He gave her a wicked smile and he pressed forward to ram the rest of his hard, pulsing length inside her. Too much, way too much... If possible, he'd grown wider and longer than before. Either that or her body had shrunk. When the muscles in her neck gave out, Recee leaned her forehead in the hollow of his throat and panted. “Give me a second, just need to..."
Garen would never find out what she needed...when he moved, Recee's ability to think vanished. From one instant to the next, the pain and discomfort disappeared only to be slammed away by an orgasm that stopped her breath. She was coming, coming hard, fast and so damn good. Her hands left the grille to latch on to him. A scream rent the air as her fingernails dug into his tough, tanned skin. Dimly she knew she'd screamed, but how else could she manifest the power and pleasure tearing her apart?
Sex had never been this good, not even the one time she'd talked herself into being in love. With each thrust he dug deeper, becoming a part of her, the burn of his cock imprinting her pussy as his for all time.
Before she recovered from one orgasm he shot her into another. She clenched down hard and tight dragging him with her. The will to fight disappeared the more she gripped him. When the world exploded around and through her again she'd be damned if she fell alone.
A shout signalled the end of his resistance. Hot jets of cum blasted into the safety of the condom as each burst tore through him. He wrapped his arms around her. Shuddering within the safety of his embrace, she said nothing as Garen went to his knees, then his ass, still holding her tight.
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Chapter Five
* * * *
Pale strands of moonlight played over the intricate tin ceiling above his head. Dark curls tickled his nose as Recee's sweat-dampened body pressed against him, their hearts still pounding from the latest blast of lust-induced madness. His hand smoothed up and down her silky back in a gesture that comforted him and kept his blood humming.
"You have the most amazing skin,” he murmured, not realising he'd spoken out loud until she answered him.
"Mhhh.” She peppered soft kisses on his chest. “It's my mutt heritage."
"Mutt heritage? What the hell is that?"
"You sure you want to hear this since we're naked and all?” Recee used her foot to stroke his calf while her knee delicately rubbed teasingly along his half hard cock.
Frissons of desire raced through his blood. He captured her sneaky long limbs between his legs. “I want to hear it. Then we'll see what you can do with that knee."
A sweet kiss dropped against the tip of his nose before she set her head back in the notch between his shoulder and neck. He'd never felt so comfortable with a woman, not once the sex was done. Maybe not even before that.
"My family is the ultimate melting pot, you could say. I've got so many different nationalities in me I could be the United Nations all by myself. My great-great-great-grandmother came over as an African slave. My great-great-great-grandfather was a Swedish immigrant who fell in love with her. Throw in a Russian, a Mexican, one Korean and melt them all together and voila, here I am. At least on my mother's side. My father's family heritage is a little more complicated and involves black Irish, Native American Sioux, Cajun fur trappers, a Haitian housekeeper and an exiled Saudi sheik."
"Wow, I thought my family was complicated. How did you learn all this?” He'd never known a woman who could trace her family history back so far with so much detail. Made his efforts to look into the Cherokee side of his family tree seem half-assed.
Brightly painted nails drummed a faint rhythm along his chest. “My...ah...parents were big into the whole family heritage and all that crap. Besides I had to inherit this place from someone, right?” She waved a ringed hand to encompass the house surrounding them.
The more he learned, the longer he remained with her, the more he couldn't help but want her. Recee was drawing him like a spider drew a fly and there was nothing he could do to resist. Honesty compelled him to admit he didn't want to resist.
Regret... He kept waiting for the emotion to hit him, along with the need to get up and get out. But contentment and a low buzz of desire were the only sensations humming through him. “We should get off the floor at some point.” They'd been at it for the past couple of hours, desire never far from the surface no matter how many ways he had her or in what positions. Even now his cock twitched with renewed interest.
They tried to get to the bedroom upstairs, but made it only to the second floor landing before the sight of Recee's plump, perfect ass distracted him again.
Not once had she complained and turned away from him. God, he could really get into a female who exploded with barely a touch.
"I need food before you come at me with that monster again.” Recee sat up, brushed her hair out of her face and sent a wary look at his crotch. “Feed me and I might let you talk me into trying out my bed."
"Uh...bed.” Bed plus Recee was nothing but a win/win combo in his mind. “Is there food in the house or are we dependent on the mercy of the takeout gods?"
Smooth and agile, Recee stood and stretched. Garen reached for her again, his hands on her waist before she noticed and danced out of his reach. “No way, schedule man. Feed me first then we'll see."
"You want me to make you dinner?” No one ever asked him to do anything. Generally his bedmates catered to his every whim, offering him food then serving it up nice, hot and homemade.
"You want sex then get your tight ass up and in the kitchen.” She turned and headed to the end of the long hallway, her ass looking ripe and plump as she sashayed away from him “I'm taking a shower. I expect food, real food, by the time I get out."
Exhaustion pulled at Garen when he dragged himself from the floor. Something crackled under his foot, so he stopped to pick up the empty packets and used condoms they'd run through like a pair of bunnies on Ecstasy.
Cooking equalled heat and Garen had no intention of leaving his Johnson hanging out waiting to get burned off, so he went off in search of his pants. After the first frantic round they'd stopped long enough to lose his boots, socks and pants.
"Somewhere in the... Bingo!” His clothes had been thrown in random patterns that brought back very heated memories. Scooping up his pants, Garen dragged them on then carried the rest of his possessions back up the stairs.
After poking around random rooms, Garen developed a sense of Recee, one he knew she'd never allow him to see. Recee had a romantic heart. Every inch of her personal space shouted hidden emotions buried under ten miles of concrete-covered steel. The woman made his paltry barriers look like a joke.
Jewel tones, textured fabrics and fantasy art with heroes of old blended seamlessly with the restored majesty of the historic house. Though fascinated and curious to explore more of the unseen depths of his new lover, he held back. Dig too deep, too fast or, worse, get caught by the prickly private woman, and he'd be thrown out on his ass.
Running his hands through his wild mass of hair, he backed out of the library and went in search of the kitchen. His thoughts tumbled and raced through his mind. How could he care about a woman he'd been close to killing only a few hours earlier? Granted, he'd never actually follow through with it, but still, the itch had been there.
Now...oh yeah...now the mighty had fallen. Thoughts like these would do him no good, not when Recee was so close and he could still smell her sweet scent on his skin. But there was more to her than amazing curves, full breasts and smart mouth. He liked how she never backed down from him or anyone else. Confidence, pride and her wicked sense of humour turned him on just as much as her wicked tongue.
With even those simple thoughts of her, Garen's denim-imprisoned cock tried to rise. “Quiet down.” The damn thing should be exhausted, sore or broken. Erections weren't like toys. They didn't keep bouncing back up as soon as you emptied them or at least they weren't supposed to. His poor cock hadn't understood the message. A whiff of Recee and the dumb bastard rose to salute her in his own cocky
way.
"Food,” he muttered, straightening his shoulders and marching into the kitchen like a man preparing for war.
Something had happened tonight, a connection he would bet his last dollar Recee would deny to the point of torture. Maybe all the dancing around each other and verbal sniping had been their particular style of foreplay that had both of them going up in flames the moment skin met skin.
Not to mention the astounding recovery time on both their parts. Garen couldn't remember a time, even as a horny lust-ridden teenager, when he'd been ready for action so quickly after the first round. Nor had he ever wanted another woman with this almost desperate desire and compelling need even while still in her arms, still wrapped snugly in her body.
Though a man with few addictions, he could easily see having Recee several times a day becoming his daily fix.
But he needed to quickstep his way through the minefield of Recee's emotions and barriers, coming out the other side with her in his arms and in his life.
Big muscled arms looped around Recee's waist and a soft gentle kiss brushed the back of her sensitive neck as she finished the last of the dishes.
"Who knew such skill was hidden under that macho veneer?"
He smiled against her skin. “Just because I don't cook doesn't mean I can't. The military trains for more than shooting guns and blowing stuff up."
With a genuine smile she turned in his arms and pressed a kiss to his whiskered chin. “Yeah, but I bet you liked the blowing up part the best."
The shrug he gave was all male. “Setting explosions fed my...what did you call it? Oh yeah, OCD monster."
"Blowing shit up gave you a sense of order?"
"No, it's the planning beforehand. Understanding the structure or target, finding the perfect weakness or combination of stress points to bring an object down.” A wistful sigh left his kiss-swollen lips. “I really miss that."
"Maybe we can find you a train set. You know, one with all the little villages, homes, shops, people...even barn animals. You could blow that up as much as you want.” Come to think of it, the idea sounded fun to her too. She'd never blown anything up before unless you counted a frozen turkey in the microwave. She never counted it since the explosion hadn't been deliberate.
Garen shot her an incredulous look, dark eyes wide. “Wow, I'd never thought of it, but it would be fun."
"Yeah,” she said, encouraging him, always ready to egg someone on when they were headed for disaster. Good thing this disaster would be harmless and environmentally safe. “Just think of all the little people dressed in their perfect suits and dresses. You could have them spinning through the air like confetti. Heads, arms and legs raining down in your own personal version of kaboom paradise."
"I like the idea maybe a little too much.” He released his hold on her to back away. He didn't stop until his hips rested against the granite counter across the room. His dark eyes lost the light of laughter and settled into something far more serious.
Recee's stomach twisted.
"Are we going to avoid talking about this?” He waved a hand to encompass the two of them.
Suddenly uncomfortable in nothing but her overlarge sleep shirt, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Why do we have to talk at all?” Though women were supposed to be the ones obsessed with sharing their emotions and feelings, in her experience, Recee believed men had the bigger obsession.
"So... What? We spend the rest of the night together as intimate as two people can be, experiencing the best sex, no, the best lovemaking this side of heaven. Then wake up tomorrow morning and act like nothing happened?"
Her fingernails dug into the soft flesh of her palm.
"Go back to insulting each other every time we're in the same room?” he continued. “Forget I know exactly how you feel squeezing my cock as you come, yelling my name and scratching your pleasure into my back. Is that what you really want?"
"I like that plan. I could really get behind a plan like that.” What she wanted was for him to get behind her again, to take her over, body and mind, but his fixation with tomorrow ruined her plans. “Besides I doubt I'd fit in your schedule."
A flash of surprise crossed his face while a hint of a smile curved his lips. Damn the man was too sexy for her. One night of really good sex with no strings attached... Why was it too much to ask? Or had she simply found the wrong man to break her long fast with? Would any man who made it to her bed have brought out these conflicting and irritating emotions in her?
She doubted it. Garen Swifthorse was a man like no other.
"When it comes to you I think my schedule is a little flexible."
Why did such a stupid, simple sentence thaw her heart? The man knew nothing of traditional romance, but his words found their way past her barriers, something she vowed years earlier to never happen again. Caring for Garen could easily lead to loving him, no matter what bullshit she spouted to herself or her friends.
Love...been there, done that, had the scars to prove it. No thanks. She'd leave the sweeter emotion to those who deserved it. In no way, shape, form or life cycle would she ever believe she deserved that soft, life-affirming, soul-altering emotion.
Not after she'd let down the only person who'd ever counted on her.
Love generally meant saying you were sorry, but only after it was too late to stop the train wreck from happening.
Mentally strengthening her walls and hardening her heart once more, Recee tilted her chin. “Look, Swifthorse, we had fun. Got an itch out of our systems. I'll be the first to admit my attraction to you. You are a good-looking man with a tight ass and big hands. Everything I like in a man, plus you're normally not a big talker. Please don't try to make more of this than it is. We can still have a good time together without having the ‘tomorrow’ discussion."
The space between them shrank even though neither one of them moved. Dark angry eyes drilled into her with burning heat. “So we had sex because I met your requirements?"
"No...yes...I mean...” She yanked her hands through her still wet curls and shifted her weight from one bare foot to another. “Shit, I don't know. I just know that whatever this is can't go anywhere. One word, just one word reaches Olivia, Briley, Emma or Trinity and they'll have our wedding planned along with the names of our kids."
"So?"
"So? Have you lost your tiny organised mind? We barely know each other, for one thing. For another, I don't do relationships like that. Never have and never will. Don't forget we always fight. That won't change just because we got a taste of each other. So if that's what you're hanging around here waiting on then you might as well pack it in now. I'm alone because I like it, not because I can't find a man. I don't do romance."
Dipping his head in a slow nod, Garen uncrossed his arms. With unhurried steady steps he closed the distance until only mere feet separated them. “I never questioned why you were alone. Beautiful, smart, successful and talented, you're a woman many men would have a hard time forgetting. What I can't understand is why you're allowing some nameless fear to trap you in a life smaller than you deserve. And everyone deserves to have a little romance in their life."
Alarm burned in her stomach. How could he know? The past, her past remained buried where it belonged. If she felt a twinge of envy every once in a while at the love her friends found... Well, no one's life was perfect.
"I don't fear anything. Haven't you heard the rumours about me?” She didn't wait for his answer before rushing on. Her heart pounded a crazy rhythm in her chest. Panic clawed inside her heaving lungs as she struggled to get air. “I carry knives. Always. I know how to use them. Men lose their ability to father children from my presence alone. I'm the boogeyman of bad boy fairy tales.” Her finger pressed sharply into her chest as she emphasised her point. “I am exactly who and what I want to be. No man, no testosterone- filled alpha male, is going to change me. The sex may be incredible, Garen, but unless you're willing to agree to be fuck buddies, then don't let the door hit you in the ass
on the way out."
* * * *
Garen stomped the gas and his truck responded to the punch of power as it ate up the distance to his house.
His fist slammed into the leather-wrapped steering wheel. “Damn woman!” His brain spun in circles, but all paths led back to Recee and not just to her smoking hot body. He loved her ability to laugh at herself, her loyalty to the nuts she called friends and her amazing talent in designing beautiful objects from bits of metal and gems. Even her penchant for knives turned him on. As a former solider he respected the hell out of anyone prepared and capable of taking care of themselves.
So he was hooked on a woman who professed to want nothing to do with him other than sex. One who didn't believe in or want romance.
Or, he thought, remembering the stark look on Recee's face, maybe no one had ever taken the time to romance her.
He was striding through his house without remembering the rest of the drive. His mind focused on the plan forming in his mind.
He'd show Caprice Williams exactly what she was missing.
One flick of his finger brought his computer to life and he settled in his perfectly aligned orthopaedic chair to start his plan to romance Recee.
* * * *
The slap of pain in his knuckles drove Garen to push himself harder. Steadily ignoring the burn of his overtaxed muscles, he continued to pound out his frustrations on the heavy bag swinging with each blow.
Memories of his one night, not even a full night, with the most stubborn, outlandish, sensual, beautiful woman in the world haunted him throughout the day and long after he was supposed to be asleep. Every word spoken in the kitchen between the two of them ran through his mind. With the eye of hindsight, Garen mentally edited his words and his actions until even the very air he'd drawn into his lungs caused him concern.
Never had a woman got to him this deep this fast. What exactly made Recee different he couldn't pinpoint. Nor could he understand when he'd gone from mildly intrigued to flat-out besotted. The situation had ended even worse, if possible, because of the fact he'd given his word to Recee to keep their involvement to himself. So he couldn't ask his best friend for advice, couldn't use the other man as a sounding board without breaking his word.
Romancing Recee Page 6
