Rival Forces

by D. D. Ayres

  It was hard to take him all in when his eyes were open. His friendly but oh-so-direct gaze took in more than she wanted him to see. But now she could look her fill.

  Her gaze shifted to his mouth. His wide, full lips might have made a lesser man seem vulnerable. But there was nothing vulnerable about this mouth. It conquered and possessed and demanded surrender in its kiss. The hard square jaw was like the man. Bold, imposing, uncompromising, 100 percent masculine. And yet he could be goofy. That aloha smile of his was 90 percent kid at play. She felt an unaccustomed fondness for his face. It was a funny feeling that made her stomach flutter. It had nothing to do with the parts that made up a pretty spectacular specimen of human male.

  He had been more than she remembered. The young man all eager and sweaty was not the consummate adult in full possession of his powers. Which he’d demonstrated by giving control to her. What was he like when he was in charge? It made her hot just thinking about it.

  She lifted a finger toward his nose, a smile blossoming on her mouth. Maybe she should test her curiosity.

  She heard it across the house. The soft ping of a text message being delivered to her phone. The sound went through her like an electric current. She bolted from his bed, shock and disbelief powering her.

  He opened an eye. “Where are you going?”

  She looked back, frowning at the intrusion into her amazement. “Bathroom.”

  She took the stairs two at a time. She was wrong. Probably wrong. It must be Kye’s phone.

  But the phone plugged into her bathroom socket was glowing. She could see it from the doorway of her bedroom.

  She approached it as if it were a bomb. She picked it up as if it might burn her. There was a message. The first on this phone in more than three months. From an unknown number.

  She opened the text message. It was a link to YouTube.

  Holding her breath, she touched the link and suddenly the voice of Nat King Cole filled her ears. It was an old recording of a song she’d never heard before. But the lyrics were clear. “Do Nothing Till You Hear from Me.”

  David.

  She jabbed a return text into the phone, her hands shaking so badly that even autocorrect couldn’t make sense of it.

  “Damn.” She cleared it and started again, making herself type slowly, her thumbs taking turns. It was simple. David? Are you okay?

  She hit the SEND button and waited, staring so hard at the screen it began to blur.

  It was David. It had to be him. Do nothing until you hear from me? What did it mean? Was he going to contact her again? Could he not just call her? Or text her? Was he in trouble? Oh God, she’d given up—

  “That’s a pretty sight.”

  Yardley jumped so hard she fumbled the phone and it fell into the sink. In the mirror she could see Kye standing in the bathroom doorway. He was naked. But the grin on his face said he was more interested in her state of undress. She could feel the winter air against her bare butt, only partially covered by her top. But she couldn’t get caught up in the anticipation on his face. Not now.

  She half turned to him. “I heard my phone. Business.”

  “On Sunday morning?”

  “Dogs are like children. They don’t take things like weekends and holidays into consideration when having a crisis. Can I have a sec?”

  “Sure.” He rubbed his chest lazily. “I can use some coffee. I’ll put the pot on.”

  “Aren’t you cold?” She couldn’t help it. She was suddenly freezing while he was standing there like it was at least eighty-five degrees in the shade.

  His grin answered before he did. “I was, a bit, until I saw you.”

  She didn’t have to ask what he meant. The source of the heat between them had him rising to the occasion. Except there weren’t going to be any more occasions for them.

  She couldn’t find the words to object as he came toward her. He looked so happy, like a kid who’d discovered the brand-new bike he’d gotten for Christmas was still there the next morning when he opened his eyes.

  Except she wasn’t a bike to be ridden. She’d done the riding. And it was glorious. He was glorious.

  He stopped just inches from her, the soft smile on his face almost too much to endure. “Did I say thank you?”

  She gave her head a tiny shake then made a sound she didn’t know she could make as his hands settled on her waist. His palms were scalding through her—no, he’d slipped her sweater up so quickly and smoothly she hadn’t realized until they were skin-to-skin.

  “I really do thank you. Best night of my life.” His voice had gone rough. His eyes looked lazy. But as he drew her in by the waist there was nothing remotely calm about the heat swirling between them.

  His cock, half ready to go, was nudging her groove. She felt the letdown of wetness in answer as he playfully poked and prodded, enjoying the dance before the dance.

  She opened her mouth to protest. But his mouth sealed the words inside. He was kissing her with the focused intensity she’d felt in surprise the morning before. But that time there’d been at least an edge of anger in his kiss. This time, it was all sexual allure and persuasion and hope. Oh God, what he was promising her.

  Her knees unlocked but he was there, hands sliding down and behind, grabbing her ass and lifting her up onto the counter beside the sink. Her knees fell open naturally and he moved in like a man on a mission. Hard hairy thighs brushed the inside of hers as the kiss went on and on, one melting into another soul-burning kiss.

  They hadn’t really kissed last night. Even in the midst of the shattering climax when they’d been skin on skin, him buried to the balls inside her, their lips hadn’t met. Now she knew she could come from the feel and taste of his mouth alone.

  Shattering.

  He groaned against her mouth, whispering, “Shit.” He lifted his head. “No condom.”

  “Doesn’t—” She grabbed fistfuls of his hair and pulled his mouth back down to hers. This wasn’t going to happen again between them. Not ever. She wanted, this once, to feel Kye inside her. And then she stopped thinking.

  She scooped forward and lifted a leg to wrap it behind his thighs.

  He expelled a breath of laughter into her mouth. And then he was moving his hips in slow circles, his cock bumping against her lower lips until he was wet with her essence. Her body opened and tightened in anticipation. His hands slid forward to tighten on her hips, his thumbs digging into her inner thighs to part her and make his way easier. The head of his cock touched her sweet spot and she gasped.

  He sucked in her lower lip, nibbling on it without pain until she was gasping again and again. His tongue delved in behind to lick pleasure from her. Tongue and cock each nudging her toward a climax. Then he paused, took a breath, tightened his grip, and with a frank sexual roll of his hips shoved into her sleek heat.

  She was trembling now, and sweating. Yet he paused and held her, the fit snug and smooth and tight. She could feel him inside her, pulsing and filling her to capacity, his body arched over hers. For this moment there was only the two of them.

  The world stopped.

  His hips rotated slowly, as if he were moving to a primitive beat only he could hear. That rhythm pulsed with the urgency of life, the downbeat coming as a thrust that speared straight into the heart of her. She didn’t try to hold back, be an adult. An experienced woman. A sophisticated being. She let go, opened her mouth, dropped her hands to his buttocks, and gripped him hard. Her head fell forward against his shoulder and she simply held on as if her life depended on it.

  He had it, the rhythm, the beat, the heat, the push–pull of lust in perfect sync with her need.

  He came hard, lifting her off the counter to ride the gush of desire jetting out of him.

  “Damn, Yard. You feel…” He took a breath. “So damn good. So good.”

  He looked so happy. So very happy.

  That’s when she lost her grip, sliding down more than his sweat-slick body into the depths of shame. She’s just had sex�
��oh, please. It was more than that. She’d just offered every bit of her physical self to a man she couldn’t have.

  She slipped sideways from his splendid body and looked away with more regret than she would have expected. “I really could use that coffee.” And an ice bath. Why had she thought she was cold?

  “Yes, ma’am.” He offered her an intimate smile, so tender and happy it made her feel like the greatest cheat of all time. Then he ran his hand lightly down her spine, making her arch in spite of herself. He cupped a butt and gave it a gentle squeeze. The whole time his caramel eyes, soft with the aftermath of satisfaction, held hers.

  In the mirror she watched him walk away. Treacherous eyes taking in every inch of his shoulders, back, and butt. It was a glorious ass, firm and full with shallow dimples on either side. She’d betrayed David for that butt.

  “Oh Lord.” She felt a flicker of unnamed panic flare inside her. She could still feel her desire for Kye pounding in all her pulse points.

  If there was a heaven, she was going directly to hell for those last minutes. She couldn’t lie that it wasn’t her idea.

  The first time it had been all about her. She owed him a session where he had his way. But Kye in charge didn’t feel in any way like giving up anything. It felt like a bonus ride on the craziest sex machine ever. But he was more than fine manly parts. He wasn’t in his own head getting off for his own pleasure. He was there with her, every second, making it personal, important, and precious.

  “You okay?” He’d whispered those words several times in the throes of their wild ride. Against her mouth, against her ear, against her breasts. He’d wanted to share. And take care of her. He’d wanted her to be satisfied. It was personal.

  She smiled, despite her fraught emotions. The immature young solider she’d met a dozen years ago had matured into one helluva man. This was someone she didn’t know. Or rather, was meeting for the first time. She could admit it now, when it couldn’t mean a thing, that she liked him.

  There was a strong streak of the protector in Kye. Not the macho I-got-this show-off style she saw on display among K-9 handlers from time to time. Competition was a natural result of putting aggressive, streetwise cops or battle-ready soldiers together in a learning situation. To work with a dog, the K-9 officer needed to be something of an independent who preferred to work on his own with little or no supervision. Occasionally that competition spilled over into their personal lives, with men more interested in scoring against other men than in making happy the women they might be with. Not Kye. For all his laid-back surfer style, he was a man, strong, tender, and caring. He’d turned out to be one of the good guys. If only.

  She glanced back down at her phone. No reply.

  She caught a breath and held it, trying to steady her suddenly galloping heart. She was caught, between new experiences and old. Where did her loyalties lie? Could one night negate a year? No, that was crazy. She’d just made some terrible decisions. That, to be honest, she couldn’t find it in her to regret.

  But now there was David. Still in her life, if uncertainly.

  It had been her idea that she and Dr. David Gunnar purchase phones with numbers only they knew so that their relationship could have the privacy they both craved. Neither wanted their very public lives to spill over into this most personal connection. They even went so far as to trade semi-coded texts about where to meet, like children with a secret. David had a thing for pop standards from the ’40s and ’50s, music popular long before either of them were born. At various times over the past year she had received messages that read:

  That’s Amore. Free to share a pensione in old Napoli?

  April in Paris. I forget the lyrics. Bring them to the Madison Hotel.

  Georgia on My Mind. Outer Banks paying good dividends.

  This one was different. And caller ID was blocked.

  David had never done that before. Yet the text could only be from him. Only he had this number. Perhaps he’d lost his original phone, or it had stopped working and he couldn’t replace it until now.

  This message meant that he was okay. And that he wanted to see her.

  Still, her sense of relief came mixed with a splash of anxiety as she reread his text. Do nothing until you hear from me? What did it mean?

  “Coffee’s on.” Kye was back. His lids slid low over his gaze, taking in her bare legs. His smile held the warmth of a Pacific sun. “Should be ready by the time we’ve showered.”

  Yard couldn’t miss the invitation in his gaze. It gave her a hot flush. “I don’t have time. You go ahead.”

  She saw the humor drain from his expression at her tone. “Something’s going on, okay?” She held up her phone as if that would make her point for her.

  “It’s not serious, I hope?”

  “I don’t know yet.” But she did. It was very serious. Only she wasn’t certain what to do next. “Can you check the heater? It really did go out during the night.”

  “Is it cold? I hadn’t noticed.”

  She believed him. His erection was in full bloom again, fired by the same urges that made his gaze burn as it met hers. “I’ll check it out.” He turned, taking his fine ass and swaggering cock with him.

  As soon as he was gone, Yardley started the video again. This time the second line of the song caught her attention. Pay no attention to what’s said. Was David telling her to discount whatever well-meaning friends or family might have said about his disappearance? They didn’t know anything about each other’s family and friends. Would he think she would tell anyone about them? Had he told someone? She didn’t think so. Or did he mean the FBI and the DEA?

  They’d told her he had applied for a permanent work visa to some unnamed country overseas. He might be texting her from Outer Mongolia, for instance. But she didn’t think so. She had the feeling he hadn’t left the good ol’ U.S.A. Otherwise, why would the FBI be involved?

  It didn’t add up or make sense. She didn’t have any information to go by. Nothing, except the intuition that had her left leg doing the River Dance all by itself.

  David was in trouble. Probably in hiding. Unwilling or perhaps fearful of drawing her into whatever trouble he was in.

  She shut off the song and thought about the kind of trouble that brought the feds to one’s door. It wouldn’t be some local or isolated problem. This was something serious, and it remained to be seen whether David was on the right or wrong side of it.

  She met her reflection in the mirror and was startled by it. Her lip was still swollen. A bruise fattened one cheek. The opposite eye was now ringed red and deep purple. The patch above it itched. But the reason for her appearance, Stokes’s attack, had been momentarily forgotten in the light of the last few hours. Too much had happened.

  Kye had happened.

  She glanced guiltily toward her bedroom doorway. She could hear him moving around upstairs. He was whistling. He was happy.

  She had been happy, too. For six short hours her world had righted itself.

  Do nothing until you hear from me.

  There was nothing she could do. She had no way of knowing where David was. But he was still in her life. The text confirmed it. And he wanted her to wait for him. There was a promise in those song lyrics.

  There was nothing more she could do but wait.

  No, that wasn’t right. What she must do was get rid of Kye.

  Her stomach cramped with feelings of guilt. If she’d just stayed in her own bed. If she’d just not felt all the feelings that had come stealing in on her last night. If Kye hadn’t been so kind. So able to deal with her craziness. If he hadn’t been so Kye.

  That was the thing. From the very first time they met, he’d had a sixth sense about how to talk to her. She might be the K-9 guru, but Kye understood her.

  But he wouldn’t understand David. And David wouldn’t understand Kye.

  She couldn’t blame either man for that. She didn’t have an explanation for what had happened during the night and again just now in her
bathroom. It made no sense, even to herself. That didn’t mean it wasn’t real, all the feelings swirling through her, whispering wicked secrets about what else she and Kye might do together and to each other. But she knew better than to listen.

  Feelings were just that, feelings. You didn’t have to give them the space to rule your thoughts. She certainly wasn’t going to act on them, again. She was going to use her brain and think her way out of this emotionally hot-blooded female mess she became when Kye touched her.

  She did have some hard reality to help her deal.

  Number one. No more touching. Not her touching Kye. And mercy no, not Kye touching her. Those big talented hands of his were definitely mind destroyers.

  Number two. She’d made up her mind before Kye arrived that David was the man for her. Nothing had changed. Good in bed was not a commitment.

  Number three. All those feelings she was feeling were because Kye had come to her at a low moment, when she’d just given up hope on David and was in need of comfort. Her pride was cut up. She’d put herself out there and thought she’d been dumped. She flinched. She hadn’t exactly used Kye. She disliked people who used others to make themselves feel better. But she hadn’t had the strength to hold them apart. Her bad.

  She’d let old feelings, memories, and sentiment cloud her vision. She never did that. She was always reliable. Steady. Ready to make the hard decisions. The path was always clear for her. Choices clearly defined and labeled. She’d made her choice. David, not Kye.

  So why was she hoping there was another choice, like door number three?

  Forsaking all others.

  She hadn’t made that commitment yet. But just a week ago she had been prepared to do so, if David contacted her. She’d let Law and Georgie, and especially Kye, sway her away from her gut feelings.

  But now she knew David still cared. She’d heard from him again. Why didn’t that knowledge feel like a victory, a triumph, or even simple relief?