Storm's Interlude

by Vonnie Davis

  He sat and then pointed to the areas of pain with his index finger. “Up the back of my neck into my head. Around my head. Behind my eyes.” He’d long since associated his heartburn with stress, now he was wondering if the headaches came from the same source, too.

  She stood behind the sofa and started massaging, using her trained thumbs at pressure points. “You get these often?”

  “Yeah. Anytime I’m stuck in front of that computer for hours.” Or when I think about spending time with Pilar. He blinked several times at that personal revelation. Why hadn’t he made that connection before?

  “Maybe you need glasses to wear when doing computer work.” She slowly ran her fingers up and down his neck and then across his shoulders, pressing in hard with her thumbs and gently rippling with her fingers. “You’ve got knots of tension back here. Big knots.”

  She leaned over him and dug her elbow into his shoulder. He didn’t know which felt better—her massaging or her breasts pressed against his back. Scents of her perfume wafted in the air, luring and beguiling like a floral siren. Her breathing had quickened in his ear as she ministered to him. His had quickened in like manner. Every one of his senses homed in on Rachel. She was consuming him.

  “My God,” he moaned.

  “I know I’m being rough, but this is the best way to get these subscapulari muscles to relax. Your trapezes are so tight, too. Goodness.”

  Her voice was deep and breathless with exertion, which only fueled his arousal. He closed his eyes. While her massaging and pounding of his muscles sent chills up and down his spine, the smell of her perfume, the sound of her voice, the feel of her breathing against his neck and his ear was inflaming his manhood to near madness. The warmth of her sensual touch was killing him. If he lived through this, he was heading for a cold shower. Hell, a dozen cold showers couldn’t undo the effect she was having on him.

  “Tilt your head forward, Storm. I’ve never seen anyone so tense. Even your rhomboids are knotted.” She pressed against him more, rotating her elbow into his knotted muscles. “It’s almost as if the harder I massage, the tighter your knots get.”

  No fake! His whole body was a mass of sexual knots. He glanced over his shoulder, taking in her determined expression, her teeth gritted as she pounded and elbowed his muscles into submission. She was clearly in nursing mode, clueless as to what she was doing to his libido.

  “Rachel.”

  She leaned forward and increased her pressure on his shoulder. “Can’t...talk...now,” she grunted.

  “Rachel.”

  “Maybe...maybe if I try from the front.” She hurried around the sofa. To his utter amazement, she crawled onto the sofa, straddling her knees on either side of his lap. “Lean down and put your head against my chest. Let me attack those knotted subs and traps from this angle.”

  If she wasn’t the cutest thing, hell-bent on ridding him of his headache. If he leaned his head between her breasts, he’d be a goner. No male, unless he was six feet under and had been there for twenty years, could take this.

  “Rachel.”

  “Come on, lean against me. Wish I had one of my wooden rollers to run over your muscles. Maybe I should go upstairs and get one.”

  “Rachel.”

  She finally stopped talking and peered into his eyes. He watched her slowly shift from nurse to woman. Saw her blink as awareness surfaced. Her blue eyes, wide with shock, shifted to his mouth. “I...ah...should...get off your lap.”

  He placed his hands at her waist and shook his head. “No, you’re fine.” He slowly ran his hands up her back and sighed a kiss to her neck. She shuddered when his warm breath caressed her skin.

  “This isn’t a good idea. I…I should move.”

  “Stay...stay.” Storm’s hands sifted through her long hair. “Silk and curls. I’ve thought of running my hands through your beautiful hair.” She pulled back, her gaze searching his face, her lips parted. “I keep thinking of kissing you again.” His hands clenched in her hair and ever so slowly, he brought her face toward his. “Come here, mouse.”

  His lips massaged hers, touching and sipping until a sigh escaped her lips. “You’ve been driving me crazy.” He groaned the words against her lips before he captured them, pouring all his desire and needs into the kiss.

  She ran her hands up his chest, around his neck and into his hair. When she moaned, he pressed her closer. He’d meant only to kiss her one time, to taste her lips once more, but that objective was gone. Now he needed more, sought more and, by damn, would have more.

  He bit her lower lip, gently tugging it out and running his tongue inside the warm flesh of that luscious lip. She shuddered, and he was lost. Lost in kiss after kiss. He spiraled toward sensual oblivion, lost in the essence of her. She’d taken possession of his soul—a conquest he was powerless to resist.

  Rachel’s fingers trembled over his face, her eyes cloudy with desire, her lips swollen.

  He covered her face with countless delicate kisses as if she were an elusive dream he meant to detain. His hands fumbled for the hem of her shirt and slowly explored her back, forging a trail upward. Velvet—she was warm human velvet; he could spend forever touching her. She quivered and locked her arms around his neck. “Storm.” His name was uttered on an exhale of desire.

  She took his earlobe into her mouth and nipped it. He groaned, tightening his hold on her. Pulling back, she tugged at his T-shirt. He leaned forward and she pulled it off. She ran warm hands over his shoulders and pecs, murmuring words he couldn’t quite hear over his own heavy breathing. She bent her head and ran her tongue from his neck to his chest. He gasped when she bit his nipple.

  “My God, Rach.” He grabbed her arms and pulled her upward, capturing her lips again. He delved his tongue into their sweet moistness.

  Sensations—he was immersed in the glory of sensations; at once he wanted to drag them into eternity and rush to completion. He tilted his head to gain deeper access with his lips and tongue. She rubbed her breasts against him, driving him totally out of his mind.

  Obsession—she’d been his obsession from the first dream, before he laid eyes on her. He wanted to touch every part of her, needed to touch every part of her. His hands moved under her shirt to unsnap the front clasp of her bra, and her breasts fell free. He groaned, marveling at the feel of her. When he ran his thumbs over her beaded nipples, her head fell back as if in total surrender as she moaned his name.

  Enough—he couldn’t get enough of her. An ecstatic madness overtook him. He leaned down and placed his lips around her nipple, licking, tugging, sucking. Closer, he needed her closer. So close that they, though two, became one, separate, but united. The madness of wanting her, possessing her, and, yes, surrendering to her consumed him. He brought a hand to her bottom and rocked her against his hardness, wanting her to know how she affected him.

  He rocked against her in a gentle rhythm over and over, a prelude to the dance of love—slowly, very slowly, whispering her name with every intimate connection of man to woman. She fisted her hands in his hair and shuddered. “My God! It’s too much! It’s too strong! Storm...Storm.” She’d climaxed in his arms, on his lap, fully dressed. He held her close as she shattered and trembled. He tattooed a ribbon of kisses to her neck. The woman was magnificent.

  He had to be inside her, needed to feel her surround him. The madness of desiring her was burning his very soul. He slid a hand down the back of her jeans and once more brought her in intimate contact with the hard length of him. “Rach...Rach, I need you...”

  “Little one, Noella bring you some ice...”

  “Oh, my God!” Rachel jumped from his lap, trying in vain to straighten her T-shirt, tugging it over her exposed breasts. Her face was blushed, her eyes languid, and lips swollen from his endless kisses.

  Storm closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the sofa, breathing hard, trying to regain control. What had he done? He’d been so maddened for her he’d lost all restraint. In his twenty-nine years, he
’d always been in complete control. He opened his eyes and focused on his flesh and blood desire.

  “What...what is going on here?” Noella looked from him to Rachel, both obviously embarrassed.

  Rachel’s eyes sought his, pleading for help. Her face, already flushed with desire and completion, blushed a deeper red. She never made eye contact with Noella. “Nothing...nothing is going on.” She hurried from the room.

  “Storm Sawyer Blackhawk!” Noella slammed the tray of refreshments she’d prepared for Rachel onto the coffee table. “You cannot dally with that girl. She’s too sweet.”

  He rubbed his hands over his face. “I know how sweet she is. It just happened. It meant nothing.” It meant everything.

  His mind was still crammed with the sweet sensations of Rachel; his fingertips still tingled with the touch of her, and his mouth was still full of her taste. His body ached for her like he’d never ached for another woman, including Pilar. He sat forward, dangling his hands between his knees, and shook his head. Just how did a man get over a woman like Rachel Dennison?

  Noella fisted hands on her hips. “Are you still dating Pilar or not? Either you break it off with Pilar or stay away from Rachel. You cannot have both.” She snatched his discarded shirt, tossed it at him and stormed out.

  Storm leaned back and closed his eyes, willing his body to calm. The time had come to accept the inevitable. He loved and craved Rachel with his whole being.

  Chapter Twelve

  Rachel slid down the closed door of her bedroom onto the carpet. She was trembling and sobbing, so humiliated she never wanted to set foot out of her room again. She’d allowed Storm to do things to her, and she’d reacted to it all.

  What did Storm say to Noella? “It just happened. It meant nothing.” She swiped at the tears coursing down her face. Nothing. It meant nothing to him. While...while it had meant everything to her. At the age of twenty-seven, she’d just had her first climax, fully dressed in the arms of a man who couldn’t emotionally let go of another woman.

  She was by no means a virgin, having lost that status in college. Sex was something she enjoyed even if she never reached the summit, so to speak. She appreciated the kissing, the touching, the closeness and that special enjoyment two people could bring each other. Toward the end of her relationship with Kyle, however, sex had become a chore. How could a woman begin to respond to a man who brought her so much misery? Just now, with Storm, with all her senses heightened, she’d had her first climax. The experience was a beautiful moment for her, but a meaningless one for him.

  If she hadn’t stopped in the hallway outside the den to refasten her bra, she wouldn’t have heard his remarks to Noella, wouldn’t have known that was how he truly felt.

  She raised her knees and pressed her forehead to them, wrapping her arms around her legs. A wave of self-hate went through her. Noella had walked into the room while she was still climaxing. She saw. She had to have known what was happening.

  The sobbing began anew. How could one go from the ecstasy she’d felt in Storm’s arms to the depths of disgrace she felt now? A long time passed before the crying jag ended.

  The last thing Rachel wanted to do was face Storm and Noella again, but the reality was she had a job to do here. What little pride she had left propelled her to face them both, no matter how difficult.

  Fresh from her shower, she braided her wet hair and added one last swipe of mascara to her swollen eyelids. Her tan linen pantsuit, with square black buttons down the front, was boxy enough to camouflage her ample bosom. She added black square earrings and slipped black bangles onto her arm before stepping into black strappy heels.

  One quick turn in front of the mirror told her she looked presentable—for a wanton woman who couldn’t seem to stay away from her patient’s brother. A man she barely knew, no less. Well, that ended right here, right now. She was not ruled by hormones or by Storm’s magnetic maleness or the power of his kisses. What was called for was grit and determination.

  She would walk down those steps and into the dining room. Her head would be held high and her face emotionless. She’d be coolly polite. Once she made it through dinner, she would plead exhaustion and retreat to her bedroom—for round two of a major crying jag.

  Her gaze traveled to the desk where she’d written and discarded two letters of resignation. Sunny needed her; she couldn’t turn tail and run. The needs of her patient always came first. She was a nurse, and nurses lived by a special set of codes, both personal and professional.

  Reaching for her glucometer, she pricked her finger to check her sugar levels before eating. With all the stresses she’d had these past few months—Kyle’s harassment, hiding from him, and meeting Storm—her glucose levels were jumping all over the place. Knowing this, she was checking her levels more often. A higher sugar reading meant adjusting her diet and increasing her exercise routine. When her reading flashed eighty points higher than what she liked, she resigned herself to stricter portion control and sit-ups and push-ups after dinner.

  With one hand on the doorknob, she pressed the other to her stomach, trying to still the butterflies. She could do this. She would do this.

  Halfway down the steps, she heard Storm laugh. The sound of his voice washed over her like warm honey, and her traitorous stomach lurched. She was too raw with emotion, her system still on overload with sensations. She turned to go back to her room, admitting there was no way she could do this.

  “I thought I heard your footsteps.”

  She stopped and slowly looked over her shoulder. Storm was standing at the foot of the curved stairway, a hesitant smile causing his dimples to flash. He was dressed in a tuxedo, ready for his date with Pilar.

  Gorgeous hunk didn’t begin to describe him. His white shirt was a stark contrast to his tanned face. Shoulder-length black hair was brushed behind his ears. Obviously, his tuxedo was tailor-made to fit those broad shoulders and chest muscles. Chest muscles she’d touched and kissed earlier. She closed her eyes at the memory, and her stomach twisted again.

  “You’re not going to run from me, are you, mouse?” his voice taunted. “Noella’s serving grilled salmon. Would be a shame to miss it.”

  So, this was how it would be. He’d goad her and delight in her reaction. Well, she could handle it. She’d handled Kyle, hadn’t she? Just to show him she wouldn’t cower, she kept her gaze focused on his as she descended the stairs. No smiles were wasted on him; she wore a stony mask.

  “You’ve been crying. Your eyes are swollen.” He reached out and cupped her face. “Tell me, love. Tell me, why you were crying?” His gaze searched hers for something, but she hadn’t a clue what. The pad of his thumb slid across her lower lip. His eyes darkened.

  Rachel jerked away. “Don’t touch me! I’m your sister’s nurse, not your plaything.”

  “Rachel. Mouse.”

  “Leave me alone.” She turned on her heel and headed for the dining room. A steely hand snaked out, spun her around and hauled her back to the hardness of his chest. His arms tightened around her. Angry eyes locked. Wills warred. The muscle in his jaw bunched.

  “How would you like to go see your main squeeze tonight with a black eye? Get your hands off me, or so help me, God, I’ll...” She shook her fist at him.

  “Storm, Rachel, what’s going on?” Sunny stood in the doorway to the dining room, her eyes wide with concern.

  Storm released his hold on Rachel, holding his palms out in a “holds-off” gesture, his eyes cold. “Tell Noella I’m sorry to miss dinner, but I need to see my main squeeze.” He turned and strode out the front door. Both women jumped when it slammed.

  Sunny walked toward Rachel. “Honey? What happened between you two?” She glanced back at the door. “What’s gotten under his craw?” She waved a hand in the direction of the kitchen. “Noella’s in one of her door-slamming moods.” Then she rubbed Rachel’s arm. “You’re crying. What in blue blazes is going on in this house?”

  Rachel swiped at a tear, still tremb
ling from seeing Storm, feeling his anger, reacting to the potency of his masculinity. She glared at the door. No way in hell would she allow him to ruin her evening.

  Her smile was rueful. “Well, at least you can’t say you live in a tomb anymore.”

  Noella stormed out of the dining room. “Where is everyone? My dinner’s getting cold.” She looked around. “Where’s Master Storm?”

  “He left in a huff,” Sunny replied.

  “Said he was eager to…eager to see his main squeeze.” Rachel choked out a sob and placed a trembling hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry. He just makes me so mad, and I have no clue why.”

  Noella took her in her arms. “There, there, little one. A woman is always more vulnerable when she’s falling in love. Come. You eat, sí? Everything will work out. Master Storm is too passionate a man. It is his Comanche heritage, but I say nothing.”

  ****

  Storm pressed the doorbell to Pilar’s upscale apartment. He could have used the key she’d given him over a year ago, but that would only send a message of hope.

  She opened the door, her forehead wrinkled and her lips pinched. “You’re early. You know how I hate that. You can see I’m not finished dressing.” She pivoted on her bare feet. “Zip me up, would you? Why didn’t you use your key instead of making me answer the door? That wasn’t very considerate of you.”

  He took her wrist and pressed the key onto her palm, closing her fingers over it. “Since we’re no longer engaged, I won’t be needing it. Nor will we be seeing each other again after tonight. I’m only here because I promised to take you to this event.”

  Pilar’s expression changed from annoyed to persuasive. She straightened his bow tie and ran her polished fingertips down the lapels of his tuxedo jacket. “Darling, certainly it wouldn’t hurt for us to date every once in a while. What would be the harm?”

  “I see you’re still wearing my engagement ring. We ended things several weeks ago.”

  She faked an innocent response when she held up her ring finger. “Oh, am I? I’m just so used to it being there. It feels so right, I hate to take it off. Don’t be a grumpy soul, Storm. Surely we can work this out.” She looped her arms around his neck. “I know a hundred ways to make you change your mind. Besides, I haven’t told Daddy yet. You know how testy he gets when someone hurts his little girl.” She batted her eyes at Storm.