by Carol Caiton
"Just a few more minutes," he assured her. "No more than ten."
She nodded.
He guided her through the tunnel, keeping to the walkway until he spotted the abandoned golf cart just ahead. He got her settled inside, then talked Jeremiah through the process of returning the R-link elevator to normal operation as he drove the cart toward the checkpoint.
Nina had a difficult time walking but she kept her eyes lowered and he slid his arm around her waist again when they passed through and into the garage.
"I didn't realize," she murmured, slumping against his side. "I didn't know . . . ."
His cell phone rang. He reached for it with his free hand and took the call. "Vale."
"Simon's on property," Jeremiah said. "He just pulled into the parking garage and he's headed your way."
Ethan jerked his gaze up as a car turned into the aisle where he and Nina walked. What the hell else could go wrong?"
"Thanks, Jeremiah."
He disconnected and shoved the phone into his pocket as Simon's car rolled to a stop directly in front of them. He left the engine running and opened the driver's door.
Nina looked up. Then she turned into his side and kept her face averted.
Simon's eyes seethed with anger. "What the hell is it going to take to keep you away from her?"
Nina stiffened. She lifted her head and pulled carefully away until she stood on her own. "Simon, I've had a . . . difficult experience and Ethan . . . is taking me home.
Simon's eyes raked her from head to foot then came back to linger on the man-size shirt. He took in Ethan's white T-shirt and said, "What happened."
Ethan started to answer, but Nina answered first. "It's not important."
"It's important to me." He looked at Ethan again. "What happened?"
Resigned, Ethan told him. "She scheduled herself for a body prep."
Simon's eyes flared. He did a double-take and stepped forward. "I'll drive you back."
But Nina reached for Ethan's arm and held on. "No. But thank you," she tacked on.
"Nina—"
"She said no."
Simon started around the car. "Stay out of this, Ethan."
Nina straightened. "Simon, no. Please stop. I'd like Ethan to take me home. Or I'll . . . call a taxi." She drew in a steadying breath and said quietly, "I'm going to decline our blue icon . . . the next time I come to RUSH."
She wobbled a little, but Ethan held himself in check. If she looked like she was going to fall he'd catch her. But she needed to do this. Simon needed to hear it. And, by God, he needed to hear it too.
For a moment her face softened. "We tried to make it work. We tried . . . several times." She lifted her free hand in a weak gesture. "But I can't forget. I'm sorry . . . I just can't forget."
She turned to Ethan. "Can we go now? Please?"
She'd chosen.
For a long, speaking moment he and Simon stared at one another. The fracture in their friendship had become a gorge too wide to bridge. Then Simon turned his back on them, climbed into his car, and drove away.
Ethan stared after the taillights, then he looked down at Nina, at her bent head, and felt the tension that still thrummed through her body.
"Come on, sweetheart, let me take you home." He removed her fingers from his arm and tucked her in against his side.
She didn't speak. He got her into the car, fastened her seatbelt, then she closed her eyes and leaned back against the headrest. Every once in a while she tensed, but the tremors were spaced further apart now.
He parked the Audi inside the garage, climbed out, and walked around to open the passenger door for her. He held out a hand and she took it, using his support, then removed her hand to stand on her own. She made it inside without assistance and he watched as she walked through the kitchen and headed for the guest wing.
He dropped his keys onto the counter, stood for a minute, then planted both hands on the stone surface and shut his eyes. He had no idea how long it took for the effects of a body prep to eclipse and die away naturally. He'd never seen a woman dragged through the aftermath like that. Generally a prep was scheduled by the male half of a link. The reason was simple. It prolonged a series of continuous orgasms that carried a woman straight into rapture while milking a man until he just about died from the pleasure. An abbreviated version was available as well for the R-links when prior stimulation was desired before an encounter.
Lifting his hands off the granite, he drew a stabilizing breath and walked over to the refrigerator. Then he changed direction and started toward Nina's wing. He wasn't much good in the kitchen, but he could put together a decent sandwich and eating might help take her mind off other parts of her body.
He stopped short when he found her in the living room. She'd removed his shirt and stood gripping the back of an armchair. Her fingers squeezed the fabric with obvious pressure, eased, then squeezed again. Eventually, she relaxed. But she made no move to go to her room.
"Nina?" he questioned softly. He approached with caution, stopping a couple of feet away.
She stared down at her hands and squeezed the back of the chair again, but this time he saw no accompanying shudder. "I was hoping," she said quietly, "I mean . . . ." She paused once more. "Ethan, do you think you could need me again . . . like you did that night in the kitchen?"
His heart slammed in his chest. Hunger for her, love for her, felt as though it spilled out of every pore. "Honey, look at me."
It took a second but she lifted her face and turned. Her breasts were still swollen, nipples pushing hard against the pink cotton. He inhaled, drawing in her fragrance, then wished he hadn't.
"Honey, the next time I make love to you it's going to be in my bed and there won't be any turning back."
He saw the confusion in her eyes. They were lucid, but she hadn't grasped his meaning.
He took a step toward her, lifted his hand, and traced the line of her jaw. "When we make love, I want it to mean something. Something deep and lasting. I don't want to be a fill-in to relieve a compulsion."
Desire began to cloud her pupils again and she stiffened, fighting it until it subsided. When her eyes cleared, she looked into his and said, "It's been almost an hour since I left the body prep room. Even after you explained it, I didn't understand that a need so excruciating existed. But if all I wanted was a fill-in to relieve it, I could have gone home with Simon. He wanted it. I saw it in his eyes. I heard it in his voice."
She wasn't wrong.
"The thing is," she said then paused. Warm color rose up in her cheeks. "The thing is," she repeated, "I don't want Simon. I told my sister the night she was here . . . that I'm in love with you. And now my heart . . . it's tripping all over because—"
Yes, goddamn it.
He slid his fingers into her hair and covered her mouth with his. She didn't need to say another word. She was in love with him and she'd known it days ago.
He slid his tongue into her mouth and when she met him with her own, weeks of self-restraint ignited like tinder.
He tore his mouth away even as she cried out and held fast to his neck.
"My bed," he rasped, scooping her up in his arms.
He carried her with long, purposeful strides. "No more separate rooms," he ordered. "Tomorrow you'll move your things in here." He lowered her feet to the floor beside his bed. "No more links." He reached behind his head and pulled his T-shirt off in one fluid move, tossing it to the floor. "No more RUSH," he added, reaching for the hem of her top and stretching it over her breasts to pull it off. "Just you and me," he said, dropping it as well to the floor.
Then he lowered his eyes to her breasts, showcased in pale peach half-cups that lifted her up and out for his pleasure.
"Jesus, honey," he said thickly.
He stroked one nipple with the pad of his thumb and she grabbed onto his sides.
"Ethan."
Bending down, he sucked the other nipple into his mouth and the flavor of spiced honeysuckle slid ove
r his tongue.
Her knees melted beneath her. She would have sunk to the floor had he not been holding her.
"Yes!"
"No."
He pulled his mouth away, swept her up again, and placed her on the bed. "Not until I'm inside you. You wait for me, do you hear?"
After what she'd put him through, he was going to reap every last benefit from that damned body prep.
* * *
Nina watched him strip off the rest of his clothes, every tug of fabric, every toss to the floor an exercise of passion restrained. He was beautiful. And he wanted her. Wanted something deep and lasting.
Through the haze of desire that was still very much alive, happiness filled every part of her, so full it was difficult to contain. When his boxers dropped to the floor however, and she saw the size of his penis, a fair portion of her haze cleared. She'd touched Simon there, through his clothes, and she'd seen pictures before. But the naked reality, the size of Ethan protruding out like that and knowing where he was going to put it, sent a stab of fear through her.
"Ethan?"
He lowered himself onto the big bed, slid a hand across her stomach then around to her rear and dragged her hard against his erection. Even through her clothes the contact with his body and his sharp intake of air set off another series of tremors she couldn't control. She might be frightened of what came next, but her body knew what it needed.
She wriggled against him and he lifted one of her legs, draping it over his, then slid his hand between her thighs.
She bucked, crying out against the unstoppable yearning that wanted release. It effervesced just beneath the surface, more torment than pleasure. "Please, Ethan! Please no more!"
She tightened her leg around his thigh, crushing herself against his jutting penis and writhed.
"Shhh, honey. Jesus."
He pulled back, drawing her leg away.
"No!"
But he held her back. "No clothes. Not for either one of us this time."
She whimpered. She couldn't help it. His hand slid down to the button of her jeans, unfastened them, then he pulled them off her legs.
The breath that hissed out through his teeth made her remember she was wearing a tiny panty of peach lace embellished with white seed pearls and . . . there was no crotch.
Shamelessly, she opened herself to him, seeking his touch and, this time it was he who trembled.
"Christ," he murmured again, smoothing his fingers up her thigh to brush over her exposed flesh.
She froze, then bowed off the bed.
"No! Not yet!" he growled.
He spread her thighs wider and positioned himself between her legs. The head of his penis rubbed against her opening, sliding through the wet heat, then began pressing inside, thick and hard.
"Yes!" she gasped. "Oh, yes!"
She squirmed to bring him in farther, then gasped at the quick stab of pain and stopped squirming.
He stopped pressing. He stared down at her as the resistance of her maidenhead hindered penetration.
"Nina?" His voice was rough with emotion. He squeezed his eyes closed, opened them again, and blue fire smoldered in their depths.
"Put your arms around my neck, sweetheart."
She did as he said and he pulled back a little, then slid forward again. Back. Forward. Back once more, and forward. It was enough to drag her over the edge and into an orgasm that came from so deep inside, it seemed to explode from her soul. It went on and on until her muscles ached and she couldn't pull in a full breath of air.
"Yes," she heard him murmur. Then he surged into her body with a driving thrust that tore a cry from her throat and embedded him deep inside her body.
Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes, replacing the euphoria of a moment before.
"Shhh, sweetheart, it's done now. Shhh."
His voice sounded strained and harsh. She tried to stop crying, but the burning abrasion inside felt raw and the tears kept falling.
"Just lie still, honey. Don't move."
She cried quietly for a minute, and Ethan's chest heaved with choppy breaths. She looked up and saw sweat beaded on his forehead, saw the ruthless restraint burning in his eyes and tightening the skin across his cheeks.
He was waiting, she realized. Watching her and waiting. And with that thought, unintentionally her inner walls contracted around him.
He jerked in response.
She blinked, wide-eyed.
Then it happened again. But this time, he lowered his head and sucked one of her nipples into his mouth.
Everything—all the frenzy and erotic need—surged up all over again. With a growl every bit as female as his had been deep, she imploded again, bursting into a sparkling galaxy of bliss, bowing her back as wave after wave carried her from one orgasm to another.
Ethan drove into her, his big body thrusting hard and deep and she exploded again, then drifted somewhere, floating. She felt his hot sperm shoot inside her body, felt the lush slickness as he pumped into her, and flew apart yet again.
Over and over she contracted around him as he stiffened and shuddered, continuing to thrust until he collapsed on top of her.
It was the wildest, most violently pleasurable experience of her life—and she never, ever wanted to go through it again. Not like that.
"Ethan . . . I can't . . . breathe."
Immediately he rolled off of her and onto his side, groaning. The motion caused him to slip out of her body and she lay boneless, even as he draped an arm over her waist and dragged her close to his side.
Every muscle she possessed was dead and waiting for burial.
And she was so much in love, tears gathered in her eyes.
Minutes passed as they both gulped for air. Gradually Ethan's breathing eased and hers slowly followed. Tucked in against his side, she opened her eyes and stared at an array of dark springy chest hair. It took almost too much effort to lift her hand and brush the tips of her fingers over it, to freely touch him. Ethan.
He eased back, lifting up onto one elbow and stared into her eyes. "I love you," he said quietly, soberly. "I've waited a long time to be able to say that."
She gazed into his eyes, still showing signs of tiredness. But the strain of the last few weeks was no longer there, just the depth of his emotion.
"I love you, too," she whispered, then watched as male satisfaction smiled down at her.
"Are you all right?" he asked, lightly squeezing her waist.
"Yes, I'm okay." The burning rawness inside was fading rapidly now.
He let his hand drift down to finger the scrap of lace and beads. Then he caressed a path up her arm and nudged her chin until she met his eyes again. "Will you marry me?"
CHAPTER 52
He was pretty sure she'd say yes, but he wouldn't rest easy until he slid a ring onto her finger and the paperwork was signed. The fact that she and Simon still shared a compatibility rating that guaranteed a lifetime of happiness together loomed in the back of his mind. He intended to watch her log onto her account and decline that blue icon once and for all.
He traced his thumb along her bottom lip. Her eyes grew warm, then a little watery, then they sparkled like faceted topaz and she smiled. "Yes," she said softly, "I'll marry you."
He pulled her against his chest again, tucking her head beneath his chin, and breathed deeply.
"When?" he wanted to know. If he thought she'd agree, he'd take her to Nevada and marry her before the night was over. And soon after that, he'd move her as far away from Simon and RUSH as possible. He couldn't fathom why Simon hadn't taken her virginity, but he wasn't going to tempt fate by living three doors down from a man his wife could easily fall in love with.
"When?" he asked again, smoothing his hand down her back and closing his palm around her lace-clad hip.
"I don't know," she said. "I'm not on speaking terms with my parents right now. They . . . they didn't take it well when I told them I'd joined RUSH."
She grew still, the finger
s absently sifting through the hairs on his chest at rest now.
"Do you want to try for a reconciliation?" he asked. He toyed with the bit of lace and beads, then slid a finger beneath the edge of her panty and took a chance. "Or we can fly out to Las Vegas for something private. Maybe bring Lydia with us if you'd like her to be there when you get married."
She pushed against his chest and tilted her head back, meeting his eyes. "You're serious."
"Yes. I want us to be married as soon as possible."
Continuing to watch him, she considered that. Then her lips curved in a soft smile. "I think Lydia would love to go to Las Vegas. Are you sure about this though?"
He'd rather have Nina to himself. But if his offer to bring Lydia along ensured a quick trip down the aisle, he wasn't going to complain. "I wasn't all that friendly the night you brought her here. So maybe a couple of days in the bright lights will help me get on her good side. What do you think?"
"I think you were horrible and bad-tempered that night. And I love you."
He smiled, leaned forward, and kissed her. "Speaking of that night, I believe you have something that belongs to me."
"I do?"
"Mmm. Something I want to add to my collection. A little something you left on top of the coffeemaker to let me know I needed to cool down."
"The fan? You saw it?"
"I saw it."
"But I thought— How did you see it? You were gone for days."
"I came home every night to check on you. I even started to get a blanket to cover you up. You looked chilly out there on the sofa."
"I was. Why didn't you?"
"Because you would have known I was there, and at the time it was better if you didn't."
She grew quiet. Eventually she said, "Can we bring G with us too? She'll want to be there to watch you get married."
This wasn't turning out to be as private as he'd hoped. But she was right. G was all the family he had. And to be honest, he wanted her there too. Maybe they could take some time to look around and check out the area. The dry climate out west would probably be easier on G's arthritis. But he was drawing the line when it came to inviting Libby Pye . . . and Michael, and—
