by Tasha Black
Vince responded by trying to struggle to his feet, dragging West with him.
Quickly, West applied pressure to the trapped arm. There was a snap and he felt something give way as Vince’s arm bent at an impossible angle
Vince howled in pain and struggled wildly to break free.
West took advantage of Palma’s flailing to lock his choke even tighter. Like a python constricting its prey, every breath bringing it one step closer to submission.
Improbably, Vince made it up to his feet anyway.
He began to lift West into the air.
West knew he wouldn’t survive a slam.
He gave one last squeeze to Palma’s neck.
The exo-suit crumpled.
Vince’s neck emitted a loud pop.
Palma went limp and fell to the floor in a heap, bringing West back down with him.
For an ugly moment, West was frozen, still squeezing Palma’s limp body.
He had killed a man.
A small sound reminded him of the child who had watched the whole thing. He tried to extricate himself, but his legs wouldn’t obey.
After a few seconds of panic, his control returned.
He quickly untangled himself from the suited man and ran for the boy, snatching up the loose saw blade from the floor on the way to deal with all the tape.
Sean cowered, but West reassured him.
“It’s okay Sean, it’s me, West. I’m here to help. I just have to get you out of this,” he explained gently, as he began working the blade through the mountain of duct tape holding him in place.
After what seemed an eternity, he freed Sean’s right arm from the box and began working on the chair.
Sean moaned.
West looked up at the boy.
Sean was looking over West’s shoulder, his eyes wide in terror.
Shit.
West tackled him to the ground just in time for a large meat grinder to sail by.
There was a crack like thunder as it hit the steel support rod of the roof, which snapped in two.
The wooden beam overhead groaned horribly.
Before West could decide what to do, Vince was moving again, throwing anything he could get his hands on.
A fire extinguisher flew through the air. West dodged it. But it embedded itself in the wall, filling the space with a cloud of noxious vapor.
West didn’t have many options. He spun and threw the saw blade.
It found its home, sunk deep in the center of the battery pack taped to Vince’s chest.
West watched as the whole suit started to spark and sputter.
There was a smell of cooking bacon.
Tearing his eyes away, West reached for Sean to make a break for it.
There was an earsplitting groan as the overhead beam cracked.
On instinct, West reached up. He caught the broken beam with both hands and was surprised to find that he could hold up the weight of the roof. Barely.
Desperately, he looked back down at Sean, ready to urge him to run.
But of course, Sean couldn’t run. He was still taped to the chair.
Vince was cooking in the suit.
But his expression was one part pain, the other part malice.
Inconceivably, shaking all over, Palma bent and lifted a cinder block.
West was a sitting duck. There was no way he could dodge this. They were so close to escaping, but they were all going to die here anyway.
Palma raised the block.
West braced himself for the impact.
It didn’t come.
He looked up to see Palma’s eyes go wide in shock.
Vince dropped the block and turned around.
A rusty meat hook protruded from the back of his head.
His body crumbled and he collapsed to the ground again, his head at an unnatural angle.
Behind him a figure stepped through the door.
Dalton?
No.
The form was acutely female and somehow familiar. He took in her generous curves, ripped clothing, and tousled hair.
“West,” she said.
Oh god, Cordelia.
She stepped closer. She was absolutely filthy and absolutely beautiful. Her eyes shone. He could look at her like this forever.
“Sean,” she breathed, looking down at the boy beside him.
Reality came crashing back, and West knew what he had to do.
“Get him out of here,” he yelled to her. He could hear the strain in his own voice. His strength was failing.
Her eyes moved to his hands.
“Oh, West,” she murmured.
“I’ll be alright. Just get him out. Now!”
He fought his panic, hoping she would believe the lie.
Her eyes told him she didn’t.
“I’ll be alright,” he lied again. “I can survive this. But you two can’t be in here when it comes down. Go. Please.”
Cordelia set her jaw and nodded once.
She lifted Sean in her arms, chair and all, and turned to leave.
Her eyes glittered with tears, but he knew she didn’t want him to notice.
The beam shuddered and began to give way in his hands.
So this was what it felt like to be a hero.
42
Cordelia laughed and held tightly to West’s hand.
The silk of his tie made a soft blindfold.
She could have peeked underneath, but she didn’t want to ruin his fun. Besides, she knew her old brownstone like the back of her hand.
He was leading her down the center hall and into the kitchen.
A creak told her he was opening the back door. That was a bit odd.
The evening air was fragrant. With her eyes closed Cordelia was free to take in other sensations. The mild breeze tickling her skin. The sounds of the neighborhood: radios playing, car engines, birds, children. The warmth of West’s large hand.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Hmm, we’re outside. Is it a car?” she teased.
There was silence.
“West, I’m kidding, I live in a city, why would I want a car?” she said.
“Cordelia, if you need a car, I would be more than happy—” he began stiffly.
Wow. It was easy to forget how wealthy he was sometimes.
“Please don’t buy me a car, West,” she pleaded. “I just want a nice little surprise, like you said.”
“Hmm, okay then, but next time don’t ruin it.” he chided.
But he squeezed her hand, so she knew he wasn’t really mad.
The next thing she knew one of his arms was around her shoulder, and the other under her knees, and she was flying through the air.
She couldn’t help squealing.
And feeling momentarily self-conscious. Wasn’t she too heavy for this sort of thing?
He didn’t seem to be struggling.
And after all, he had just held up a building long enough to save her.
And Sean.
And then somehow crawl out himself. And come out of it all with barely a scratch.
But she couldn’t spend another minute wondering over it, because he was putting her down.
As Cordelia’s body slid down West’s, she was acutely aware of how warm he was.
She could feel his muscled chest through his shirt. It took all her self-control not to open her hands and touch him.
She couldn’t resist laying her cheek to the side as he lowered her so she could pass through the intimate place between his neck and the collar of his shirt on the way down. When her nose was nestled in that warm cave she could smell him, spicy like aftershave, and another smell that made her think of camping in the mountains as a kid.
As he lowered her further still, her breasts crushed against his chest, and she had to repress the urge to moan, just a little. He was so strong.
Her feet touched the ground lightly, but he didn’t let go.
Instead he spun her around so that her back was against him, and then
he hugged her tightly to himself.
She felt something hard press against her backside and she nearly gasped.
At least one part of West seemed to be all-original.
His breath tickled her ear, and she was very sure he nuzzled her before he began whispering.
“You shared your home with me. I wanted to leave my mark on it.”
What?
It was hard to concentrate with West’s scent in her nose and his warm breath against her skin.
But was he trying to say he had done something to her house?
Before she could hazard any guesses, she felt his hands in her hair and the silk of his tie slide away from her face.
“Open those blue eyes, baby,” West whispered.
Cordelia blinked and then caught her breath.
What had once been a brown postage stamp, with a few clumps of grass gasping for sunlight, was now a paradise.
Real blue slate with veins of autumn gold led the way from the back stairs, and expanded into a patio that went all the way to a large flower bed that now bordered the rear fence. The bed had a deep, high ledge, that looked as if it were meant to be a counter.
The patio curved wider and narrower at intervals. In the corresponding curving beds, a dozen baby trees had been planted. One day they would grow tall, and shade the whole garden.
Tonight their small branches were strung with fairy lights.
A round glass table was set for two. On its surface, bucket of ice cooled a bottle of champagne.
Opposite the table was a fire pit, crackling merrily.
The whole thing looked like something out of a magazine or a movie.
This was so much better than dinner at some snooty restaurant.
Cordelia searched for some clue that this was her own backyard. But all that happened was that she noticed the details: rhododendron, lilac, a Japanese maple that must have cost a fortune to bring in at that size, a trellis with a baby rose bush already training at its feet.
“Do you hate it?” West asked softly.
Cordelia shook her head very slowly.
“Say something,” he pleaded.
She turned to him.
His one good eye locked onto hers.
She couldn’t resist stroking his cheek to placate him.
“It’s beautiful,” she assured him.
It was too much. That’s what it really was.
But she was going to accept it because it was already done, and because it would delight her sister.
And if that didn’t show how well he knew her, nothing did.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.
She colored and looked down, pulling her hand from his face.
He grabbed her chin and tilted her face up to his.
“So fucking beautiful,” he said darkly.
His gaze was powerful. But her eyes were drawn to his lips.
West groaned, and slid his hand into her hair. His other hand clutched her back.
Cordelia felt herself crushed impossibly against him.
Then his mouth was on hers.
The tingling began at her toes, and rose up, flooding her chest with butterflies.
West thumbed her jaw, opening her mouth so that he could devour her, his tongue seeking hers.
Cordelia was sure there were a thousand reasons she should pull away.
But her blood was ringing in her ears, and his hands were encircling her, possessing her. One warm, one cold. One strong, one stronger.
With a sigh, she gave in, and felt her body melt to his.
He growled his approval and pulled her tighter still. It was as if he wanted to assimilate her, possess her.
His fingers tangled and tugged her hair, his tongue explored her mouth.
When the world had disappeared, and there was nothing but Westley Worthington’s kiss, when there was no yesterday and no tomorrow, nothing but the gripping immediacy of the moment, he pulled away.
Cordelia found herself drowning, as if she had grown gills during the kiss and could no longer breathe the cool evening air.
Her eyes popped open.
He was staring back at her feverishly.
“Is this what you want?” he asked through gritted teeth.
But she was too overcome to answer. She only nodded and reached for him again.
He grabbed her hands and pulled them down.
“Liar,” he whispered. But his gaze was burning hot.
When she reached for him again, he didn’t stop her.
Cordelia held his face in her hands, stroking his cheeks.
West closed his eyes.
She moved her hands down his chest slowly, feeling the planes of muscle and the ridges where cool prosthetic met warm skin.
He held his breath as she dragged her hands lower still, feeling the chiseled abs she’d always admired, and then down to his belt buckle.
Cordelia hesitated.
Instinctively she knew that if she went lower she was crossing a line. Taking the night in a direction she knew now was inevitable, and also bittersweet.
Bittersweet, because it meant the end of what they had already. A relationship that was safe in its fluidity, shaped by repressed desire, and alternating respect and frustration. Whatever happened next, for better or for worse, it would be the end of this.
Cordelia held her breath too, and slid her hands down bravely.
West groaned brokenly as her hands found him.
She could feel his turgid warmth, and the way he danced into her hands. It was only then that she realized how frightened she had been that she would find something cold and mechanical instead.
As it was, he was gigantic and that was intimidating enough. Her mind wanted to quickly calculate length and circumference, but she willed herself to stay in the moment.
Surely she could handle him. Many, many, many women had before her.
“What’s wrong?” he whispered, before she had even noticed something was wrong.
She shook her head, trying to clear it.
Her body was racked with desire. Her breasts ached, the rest of her body prepared itself for him, creating a warm, wet, place to welcome him.
She looked up at him helplessly.
“Poor darling,” he crooned with a smile.
The next thing she knew, she was floating through the air again. This time she could see that it was because he had bent to lift her with one arm under her rib cage and the other under her knees.
She closed her eyes again and tucked her head into his chest, trying to ignore the desperate cries of her body, which did not at all wish to be cradled like a baby. It had very grown-up wants.
Effortlessly, he carried her to the back of the garden and deposited her on the bench seat of the flower bed.
“You aren’t ready tonight, my love,” he told her earnestly. “But I will quench you as best I can. Be still, I don’t want you falling off,” he added with a smile.
She opened her mouth to protest, but he grabbed her face and kissed her again. Her whimpers were lost on his tongue, as if he were drinking them down.
West placed his right hand at the small of her back, the cool pressure encouraged her to sit up straight.
He released her mouth, only to trail kisses to her ear.
“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he whispered.
Cordelia felt the warmth of his left hand curl around her shoulder, then sink to cradle her breast as if weighing it, his thumb rubbing dreamy circles around her nipple.
She arched her back wantonly into his touch. Her nipples burned for closer contact. Her whole body was begging him for more.
West’s mouth had formed a wordless “o”. He continued to tease her until her nipple was so swollen it pushed through her bra and blouse.
West fumbled with the buttons of her shirt with uncharacteristic difficulty. At last he pushed it to the sides, revealing her bosom and the pretty lacy white bra she was glad to be wearing.
“Beautiful,” he said.
“Hush,” he said, touching her lips with a finger, then trailing it down to pull back one cup of her bra and then the other.
West studied her in wonder.
Cordelia couldn’t resist gazing down at her own chest.
Her breasts were pale in the fading light, nipples uplifted as if seeking West’s touch.
She felt unbearably sexy and unspeakably vulnerable all at once.
West sank to nuzzle her breasts, before either feeling could overwhelm her.
Instead, she was transported by the rough stubble of his cheeks abrading her skin and then the smoothness of the satin patch over his right eye soothing it.
Lazily, he licked her left nipple into his mouth.
The heat of his tongue, the sharp edges of his canines, and the gentle suction, all pushed Cordelia so far she dropped her head back and nearly howled into the night sky.
The stars swam in front of her eyes as his warm left hand ministered to her other nipple at the same time.
She had the sudden urge to press her thighs together, but West was between them.
Her center clenched on nothing and she moaned.
“Baby,” he whispered into her breast, and withdrew.
Without his mouth, the cool night air tightened her nipples to the point of pain.
She lifted her head and opened her eyes to see that he had only abandoned her breasts to lift her skirt and drape it over her knees.
Cordelia knew under any other circumstance she would have been embarrassed of her round thighs.
But tonight all she could think about was the pounding rhythm of her body’s need for West.
He knelt at her feet.
“Oh no,” she said, feeling oddly vulnerable, though he was the one on his knees.
“Oh, yes, yes, yes,” he smiled.
Then his fingers were under her panties. His cooler right hand twisted once and she heard the fabric rip.
That’s handy, she thought mindlessly to herself.
And then she felt his warm breath on her. And her thinking was all done.
West parted her with his hands, one warm, one cool, and inhaled deeply, exhaling on a groan.
Then he was on her.
The moment his tongue touched the base of her opening, Cordelia cried out softly.
He continued and the sensation was sweet as honey.
Cordelia let her head roll back again.
