by Sun Chara
Her assailant lay sprawled on the floor amidst trophies and overturned chairs, trying to disentangle himself from the folds of the fabric. Stella reached out to lift the cover off him and he swung his legs, skimming her above the ankles. The speed and impact of his attack knocked her off balance, and she fell to the floor.
Confidence is good, over confidence can backfire.
Concealed by yards of cloth, he grabbed for her, but she rolled away, landing a double front kick to his abdomen. With a muffled oath, he staggered back and she shot up, securing a defensive stance. Just as quickly, he rebounded, coming within her range and she kiead aloud, smacking him with a spinning back kick to his chest. The thick material cushioned the blows, so she followed with a double forward punch to his jaw. He blocked the first, but she made contact with the second. He stumbled backward and growled under his camouflage, far from being knocked out.
She couldn’t put a dent on this man.
It was time to call 911 and have the police take over. She didn’t have time for this combat; she had a birthday party to attend. At this thought, a faint smile feathered her lips and she slid back another step. Within reach of the telephone, she turned to lift the receiver and he tossed the covering over her.
“Never, ever, turn your back on an opponent.” The cloth smothered her words and she tried to disentangle herself from it.
“You carry a powerful punch, Mrs. Rogers,” the man said, encircling her with his arms.
“Oomph, let me go.” Stella tried to twist away. His familiar scent and deep voice sent shivers of another sort up her spine and she swatted at him.
He shifted, holding her with one arm while he swept the fabric off her with the other. The moment she tossed her head back, her eyes sparred with his—violet-blue flame versus cobalt ice.
“You—you…” she sputtered, struggling to get out of his arms. His aftershave wafted to her, his body heat melting her and his breath tickled her nape. “What’re you doing here?”
“You left this behind.” He pulled an envelope from his jeans’ pocket. “Tsk, tsk, careless of you.” He wedged the envelope in her cleavage, his fingers brushing her skin.
She sucked in a breath.
He jerked at the contact, her sizzle spearing him to the core.
“I don’t want—”
“A deal’s a deal.” He winked.
She struggled to shake him off. Couldn’t do it.
“I would’ve delivered it earlier,” he said. “But I figured you’d come to your senses—”
“Me?”
“—and return to claim it yourself.” He shrugged his indifference, but the throbbing of his pulse at his temple cued that he was anything but. He tightened his jaw. A nuisance. The feeling of falling into her persisted. So, he went on the offensive. “Time to come clean, set the record straight.”
“What do you mean?”
“You walked away from a mil, you might be holding out for more—”
“No!”
“That’s mighty confusing.” He scratched his head with his knuckles.
“If you don’t want the mil, maybe you’re wanting something” –he mocked a cough—“someone?”
Me, he thought, his gut clenching at the possibility. He’d waited nine months … nine long dry months while he got his pride in order. When she didn’t come for her ‘pay’ and didn’t demand more cash, he dared to believe again in the real deal. Then, he’d called, heard her voice and that sealed the merger.
Stella shook her head. “I—I don’t—”
“Let’s find out shall we?” He flashed her his sexiest grin. “A lot’s at stake here” –his eyes zeroed in on her breasts, skimmed over the envelope nestled there and focused on her nipples pushing against the fabric of her gui—“and it has very little to do with dollars and cents.”
She inhaled sharply and stepped back, but his arms were like a steel band around her. And he liked that just fine. His grin turned wolfish. “What now, Sensei?”
“Let me go,” Stella demanded, every nerve in her body vibrating with awareness. “You’re acting like an ape-man—”
“If you say so.” And with that, he threw her over his shoulder, curtain and all and stalked through the studio until he sighted the bedroom. A lazy smile curved his mouth. He kicked the door open, marched inside and tossed her on the bed.
“Don’t.” She swallowed, willing her churning emotions to subside. “Not like this.”
“How would you like it then, Mrs. Rogers?” he asked, voice husky.
Chapter 15
Stan followed, his weight pressing the mattress down and holding her captive amidst the pillows. His eyes shadowed, and he bent his head, claiming her lips.
Stella lowered her lashes, her pulse racing and her stomach fluttering. His mouth could create magic over her body … she craved … wanted … until she remembered nine months of angst.
This was easy, just too easy.
Wouldn’t do to capitulate and fall like a ripe peach smack in his palm, even if every nerve in her body vibrated with wanting him.
Stella yanked his hair, hard.
“What the …” With a muffled oath, he pulled her hands away and held them above her head.
“I’m so-o mad at you.” She glared at him and her heart jerked out of rhythm, the taste of him still upon her lips.
“Can you … uh … be mad at me, later?” he murmured, trying to check her squirming beneath him. “That’s not helping.” He rolled over and dragged her on top of him, his arousal evident.
It stirred her blood with desire, her heart with longing. Dear God, she really loved him, this man who had caused her such heartache. She shut her eyes tight, rising passion banishing tormenting memories. Reveling in the scent and feel of him, she wanted to wrap her limbs around his, holding him close, and succumb to his sexual magnetism. She inhaled a gust of oxygen, exhaled and punched him in the stomach instead.
“Enough,” he growled, reaching for her hand.
She managed to twist away, scrambling off the bed and vaulting for the Ninja sword on the opposite wall. “This is how I’d like it, Mr. Rogers.”
Swishing the blade through the air, she advanced on him.
“Watch it, Stella.”
“Absolutely.” She browsed his body, strong and sinewy and mobile. A quiver shot through her, and her heart hurled against her ribs. “Strip.”
He hesitated.
“Stand up.”
He narrowed his gaze, a storm brewing beneath his lashes, and he shuffled off the bed, towering above her.
“Unbutton your shirt.”
“You want a war, Stella?”
She shook her head. “A battle will do.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He inserted his fingers in the top button and worked his way down.
“Slow ’n easy.”
“Don’t like my method?” He cocked a brow. “You do it.”
“No.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth.
A muscle ticked at his jaw.
Seconds later, his shirt hung open, sunlight curls across his chest beckoned. Her fingers itched to touch, her mouth to—she averted her gaze, stumbled onto his sex, then bounced up, falling into the ocean of his eyes. Her stomach took a dive, her breath jamming in her throat. “Shed it.”
At a lazy pace, he slid the shirt off his shoulders and it fell in a pile of white cotton at his feet.
“Now … uh—” She cleared her throat. “Your belt.”
He dropped his hand to the buckle, his smoldering gaze drilling into her. When he moved his fingers—she held her breath—the belt hung loose—she exhaled in a rush.
“Undo the snap.” Her heart somersaulted.
She’d just lit the fuse to the powder keg.
He narrowed his gaze to blue slits, cooperating.
“Zipper.”
As slow as molasses, he slid the zipper down, jeans gaping at the front, his solid length straining for release through the thin material of his briefs. She swa
llowed around the constriction in her throat, heat zapping into her body and sending her pulse skyrocketing. She wanted … it had been so long … but she couldn’t have him … not yet … not until—
“What now?”
“I … uh … I—” She stopped, rallying her thoughts to the forefront. “Shoes, socks off.”
“Sure thing,” he said, his tone flippant. He bent down, removed one shoe, then the other, and before she blinked, tossed a black sock in her face.
“Wha-a-t?” Stella swayed backward.
“Power shift.” He knocked the blade from her hand and twirled the handle around his fingers. “Nice.”
“We’ll see,” she murmured, calculating his next move.
He advanced.
She retreated.
He took another step and pointed the gleaming tip at her cleavage.
“Wha-at ’re you going to do?” She wiped her moist palms on her silk-clad thighs, wishing she hadn’t given in to the perverse urge to wear his gui to jog in.
“Finish the job you started.” A wicked grin played on his lips. “You’ll do the honors.”
She took two paces back. “No.”
He took two steps forward. “Yes.”
“I-uh—” She slid her tongue across her bottom lip.
“Stop that,” he muttered, tweaking his golden earring with his thumb and forefinger.
He looked like a pirate.
A hot and sexy buccaneer.
She swallowed. “I-I don’t think—”
“Be still, woman.”
She stopped moving.
He placed the blade at the gaping ‘V’ of her top, and flipping it to one side exposed the swell of her breasts.
She stopped breathing.
Stan slid the point down the front of her Karate gui, slicing the sash at her waist in half. In a hush, red silk slithered to the floor, coiling at her feet.
A shallow puff of air burst from her lungs.
The silk parted, revealing a vista of such feminine beauty, a tremor shook him, desire fueling him. Her breasts were veiled by sheerest white lace, her nipples straining to be free. “You take my breath away.”
Air sounded between his teeth and a muscle throbbed along his jaw. He reached for her. He pulled back. Not yet. He frowned, planning his next move, and a smile lifted the corner of his mouth.
“Aha!’
Her eyes flew open.
With a flick of his fingers, he slit the tie holding up her pants. Soft material shimmied down her legs and pooled at her feet.
“Step out of them.”
She hesitated.
“Now, please.”
She arched a shapely brow and did as he requested. “Now what?” Her chin shot up a notch.
“Let me think.” He scratched his head with the hilt, watching her through half-shuttered eyes. The two scraps of lace covering her breasts and dusky curls between her hips, tantalized … he wanted to touch, feel, taste. An inferno blazed inside him, and he raised a hand, blotting sweat beading his forehead. She should be showing some vulnerability, but instead, she stood in the middle of the floor like a champ.
“I want you lying on the bed, woman.” He stepped behind her, prompting her forward with the metallic point.
“I don’t think so.” She stayed her ground.
“How so?”
“You heard me,” she said, her voice a seductive whisper. “You want me on the bed, you’ll have to get me there.”
“And when I do?” He twisted a loose curl from her ponytail around his index finger.
“If—”
He laughed. “A challenge any man worth his salt—”
“And you’re not any man.” Her words soft as the silk that had draped her body, fell over him like a caress.
“That’s right.”
She smiled, pleased.
He caught that from the corner of his eye and scowled. Of course, he knew what she was up to. If he let his guard down, even for a second, she’d have him flipped on his back. She was a lightweight, but she knew self-defense—a real pro. “Yep.”
When he didn’t move, she took a step away from him towards the door. And another.
“Stop.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
She froze in her tracks, the kiss of steel smack center on the clasp of her bra. With a practiced touch, he opened the catch, exposing the smooth expanse of her back. He edged closer, his hips brushing her buttocks.
She drew in a sharp breath.
He skimmed the straps of lace from her shoulders and nuzzled her nape. She sighed, ruffling combustible air around them. His hands glided along her back, moved around her midriff and upward until her breasts filled his palms. The sword dipped from his fingers.
“Unfair advantage,” she whispered, arching into him.
“All’s fair in …” He eased her around and took her lips in a hot kiss. His tongue slid into her mouth, teasing, tasting, dueling with hers.
He pulled her smack against his steel shaft, her breasts pressed against his chest, his hands cupping her buttocks. He rocked with her to the tempo of the mating waltz in her mouth. The sword dropped from his busy fingers onto the carpet. She made a slight movement.
“Uh uh,” he breathed into her mouth and scooped her up in his arms.
Without breaking the kiss, he strode to the bed and lowered her upon it. He reclined beside her, the mattress springs creaking beneath his weight, his thumb brushing the pulse point at the base of her throat. “You are so beautiful.” He dipped his mouth to her heartbeat, licking. Then, he traveled lower and buried his face in her bosom, sweet musk assailing his nostrils. “Woman, what you do to me.”
Settling his mouth over her breast, Stan stroked with his tongue, his teeth nipping the hard bud … ecstasy. His thumb tweaked her other nipple to erection, then, he slid his fingers down her midriff, dallied at her navel and explored lower. He stripped the scrap of lace from her hips and slipped his fingers inside her moist folds, fondling.
“Stan,” Stella gasped, arching into him. She spread her hands across the muscles of his back, then upward to his nape, her fingers frolicking in frenzy through his hair.
Stan sought every sweet inch of her with his hands, his body, his mouth. He was on fire and in seconds, he shed the rest of his clothes. He rained kisses everywhere on her body. His tongue ignited a trail of moist heat toward her navel, paused to taste, and explored lower, burying his face in her warm nest of curls. Dear heaven, how had he lived without her all these months. He hadn’t, of course. He’d merely been existing.
“Stella …”
“Yes.”
Blood pulsed through him, he was rock hard, his breathing heavy. He took his weight on his elbows, exerting a check on his unbridled passion, then plunged deep inside her slick folds. He thrust into her again and again, drinking in her moan of pleasure with his mouth. Like wildfire out of control, he rode her fast and deep and high, holding onto her, not wanting to lose her on the climb. He gasped for air, thinking he’d die soaring with her to the pinnacle. A suspended stillness when passion spiraled in a tight coil, then Stella shattered, pulsing beneath him … he exploded.
“You’re mine,” he panted, brushing his lips across her moist brow.
“Yes.” She placed a chaste kiss on his cheek, a seductive smile curving her lips. “And you’re mine.” She smoothed her hands across his chest, stroked his nipples, then licked each one with the tip of her tongue.
He groaned, a guttural sound from deep in his throat.
She explored further down his muscled torso, brushing her fingers over the bullet of hair shooting to his navel and further. Pausing, she dipped her fingertip inside the crevice, then journeyed lower, skimming his hard length with her hand. She lifted a finger to her mouth, licked, and stroked his surging erection with the moist tip.
“Dear God, Stella.” He held her hand to the spot.
“Mmm, husband?”
“You want to kill me?”
&nb
sp; “Just a little bit … with love.”
He nodded, resigned. “Proceed, wife.”
***
Two hours later, Stan helped Stella from the Hummer and hand in hand they walked to the lodge.
“Oh, hi!” Troy bounded out the door and flung himself at them.
“Didna I tell ye, lad, not to leave without a coat,” Minni clucked after him, wiping her hands on her apron and shaking her head.
“We’re coming in, Minni.” Stan tossed his son over his shoulder and stomped into the house, Stella by his side.
Later that night, after Troy had gone to bed, Stan plunked down on the library sofa and pulled Stella onto his lap. “It’s been a full house for our karateka.” He pressed a kiss on the crown of her head.
“And a full heart … like Christmas,” she murmured the last words beneath her breath, but he heard.
He tilted her chin with his knuckle and gazed deep into her eyes. “We will make everyday like Christmas, my love.” Then, he chuckled. “Troy will definitely vote for that.”
Stella smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, tenderness tugging at her heartstrings. “He ’ll be up at the crack of dawn.”
“Yeah.” Stan flashed her his sexiest smile, and breath caught in her throat. He scooped her up in his arms and strode out and up the stairs to their bedroom. A suspended moment…a heartbeat…and, he lowered his head, his mouth a feather-breadth from her own. “But tonight is ours, Mrs. Rogers … and tomorrow … and forever.”
Acknowledgements
Thank you! To Sensei Joe and Sensei Harry for sharing their wisdom and expertise in the Martial Arts and inspiring unlimited numbers of karatekas! You are champions!
And most especially, with love to momma for holding down the fort, for being there for me, the Senseis, the karatekas, and everyone! Thank you! sweet momma, you are timeless!
Also by Sun Chara
Italian Millionaire, Runaway Principessa
