by Lori Foster
He stepped up close behind her. “Delilah.”
She could feel the tension emanating off him in waves. It made her tense, too. “Call me Del.”
Her hands shook. She refused to turn and face him, choosing instead to rinse out the cups and put them in the dishwasher.
He ignored her order. “Why,” he asked in a barely audible growl, “do you do all this crazy stuff?”
“You mean like bringing strange men home to my place? I was just wondering the same thing.”
She’d meant to distract him from his grievances, but her ploy didn’t work.
“Hell, yes, that’s part of it. Don’t you have any sense of self-preservation at all?”
She tightened her hands on the edge of the counter. “I learn what I need to know and I don’t take unnecessary risks.”
He stepped closer, crowding her against the sink. His anger was there, pulsing between them. But there was something else, something more. Her skin prickled with awareness as she felt his erection nestle against her bottom. Her breath caught.
“Tell me why you do it, babe.”
She swallowed hard. “The media claims I do it because I like writing about heroes, about guys who can win against all odds, solve twisted mysteries and get the bad guy every time. They psychoanalyze that I’m setting myself up as a heroine.”
“Are you?”
“No.” It was difficult to think with him so close, and so aroused. “My parents say I’ve always been too creative and too frenetic. I’m not content to sit idle.”
His hot breath touched the side of her throat as he spoke. “I can see that.” He nuzzled her, making the fine hairs on her nape tingle, her breasts swell. “You’ve got more energy than any woman I’ve ever met. And you don’t think about things, you just act.”
“You’re...you’re complaining?” His words sounded disgruntled, but his touch was so gentle, so exciting.
His good arm came around her waist and squeezed her. “The things you’ve claimed to do are insane, Delilah.”
“Look who’s talking! A man who deliberately takes a bullet in the back.” She forced enough room between them so that she could turn and face him. Her hand trembled from a mix of anger and excitement as she reached up and touched his jaw. “What if that bullet had hit something vital? A lung or your heart or your spine? You could have been killed.”
“I’m trained to react.”
She snorted at that bit of idiocy. “They don’t train you to get shot, do they? I thought PIs did sleuthing, not gunplay.”
He looked away from her gaze and focused instead on her mouth. “We do what we have to do.”
“And that includes nearly getting killed for a stranger? At least I take every precaution when I do my research.”
His eyes, when they met hers again, were so dark, so intense that Del felt consumed by him. “I couldn’t bear the thought of that bullet hurting your soft skin,” he whispered. He leaned lower and kissed her, tiny biting kisses from her throat to her ear, to where her neck met her shoulder.
Del shivered, then forced herself back in control. “I can’t change who I am, Mick. This is what I do, what I enjoy doing.”
He pressed his face into her throat and simply held her. It was a tender, possessive embrace and made her heart rap hard.
“Not since before Angel married Dane have I felt the need to protect someone.”
She slipped her fingers through his silky hair, over his neck and the hard joint of his shoulder. “I don’t need you to protect me,” she assured him softly. Then, touching the bulky bandage on his back, she added, “I don’t even want you to try to protect me. Especially not when you get hurt in the bargain.”
His head lifted and he stared at her hard. “Tough. We’ve forged a bond, you and I, whether you like it or not.” He tangled his hand in her hair and tipped her head back. “You did take me in, not just into your home but into your bed. If you didn’t mean it, you shouldn’t have started it.”
“Mean it?” She found it hard to breathe with him watching her so intently, as if he could see her soul. “What...what does that mean?”
“It means you’re mine now.”
He continued to study her, probably waiting for her to refute his claim, but Del had no intention of doing so. No one had ever wanted to protect her. No one had ever wanted to claim her.
She swallowed. “I was going to clean the kitchen—”
“Leave it,” Mick ordered.
“—but I’d rather go to bed with you.”
His jaw hardened and his pupils flared. He caught the back of her head and drew her up for his kiss. He tasted so good, and she leaned into him until she heard him groan.
“Mick...” Very gently, she pushed him back. “You should take your medicine.”
“Not this time, sweetheart.”
“Your shoulder—”
“Will be fine. I promise.” He took her hand and started toward the bedroom.
Del admitted to herself that she wanted to let him have his way. Never in her life had she felt so hungry for a man. Never had a man been so hungry for her.
The bedroom door closed behind them and Mick leaned against it. “In the morning,” he said, “we’re going to talk. Without distractions.”
Del had no problem with that plan. “You’ll tell me more about the kids and how you and Angel met and about your background?”
There was only a slight hesitation before he nodded. “All right.”
“I’m curious about you, Mick.”
His gaze moved over her, hot and anxious. “We haven’t had much time for talking, but we’ll catch up. For now...”
“For now, I want what you want.”
He pushed away from the door, his smile slow and lazy. Hot.
“As long as you don’t hurt yourself,” she qualified.
Mick again caught the back of her neck and lifted her to her tiptoes. Against her mouth he said, “You can help me out by taking your clothes off.”
She smiled. “And yours, too?”
“God, yes.”
* * *
Mick knew he should have put off the lovemaking in favor of getting a few things straightened out, but he seemed to have little control around her. That in itself was a worry. He was used to an icy indifference in most situations, an iron discipline that never wavered.
Especially where women were concerned.
Too many things didn’t add up, and now that he understood the lengths she went to for research—his blood nearly froze every time he thought of it—new questions were beginning to surface about the robbery. He couldn’t let lust make him lose sight of the possibilities.
She kicked out of her sandals while unbuttoning her blouse, and his discipline shattered. She didn’t undress slowly to tease him. Rather she tore her clothes off as if she felt the same burning urgency as he.
Mick braced his feet apart to keep himself steady while she stripped bare. Her frenzy fired his own.
Tomorrow they would talk. But tonight, he’d make her his in every way.
CHAPTER SEVEN
In no time, Delilah stood before him wearing only a lacy bra and skimpy panties. He was so hard he hurt. He could feel the hot pulse of blood through his veins, the heavy, rhythmic beating of his heart.
Slowly, savoring the moment, Mick walked to her. With just his fingertips he touched one taut nipple straining against her bra. “Don’t move,” he whispered, and bent to take her in his mouth.
Her moan was raw and real and satisfying. Mick took his time, suckling her, teasing with the tip of his tongue, the edge of his teeth. He felt the heat rising from her slim body, her restless movements, her heavy hot breath.
“Mick, please.” Against his instructions, she tangled her fingers in his hair an
d tugged. He straightened and began working his own buttons loose.
He held her gaze as he asked, “Are you wet for me right now, Delilah?”
Her pupils dilated, she shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Check for me.”
Her lips parted. “But...”
“Put your fingers between your legs,” he urged, “and tell me what you feel.”
Her pulse thrummed wildly in her throat. She swallowed hard, her gaze locked with his, and when her hand moved between her thighs, Mick had to bite back a groan. He locked his knees against the wash of raging lust.
“I...I’m swollen. And hot.”
Triumph exploded through him. “And?”
Trembling, she whispered, “And wet.”
He cursed low. The damn shirt pulled at his shoulder as he tried to wrest it off. Delilah stepped up to him, her entire body quivering. “Let me.”
With gentle hands she eased the shirt from him, then went to her knees to work on his jeans. Not this time, he told himself, seeing her on her knees, knowing how ready she was for him.
He let her get his jeans unsnapped and unzipped, then he stepped away. “Stand up, Delilah.”
“But—”
“It’s your turn tonight, remember?”
Staring at his erection, she licked her lips with blatant insinuation and said, “I know.”
Mick laughed, a harsh, hoarse sound. She looked as if she wanted to make a feast of him, and that nearly cost him his control. “You are such a tease.” Then, with more command in his tone, he said, “I want you to finish stripping, then sit in the chair.”
Startled, she cautiously stood and looked over her shoulder. The chair was piled with clothes, positioned in front of the window. Her bewildered gaze met his. “The chair?”
“That’s right.” He looked at her breasts, straining against the lace. “Take off your bra. I want to see your nipples.”
She glanced again at that straight-backed, hard-seated chair. A shiver ran through her before she reached behind herself to unhook her bra. The position thrust her breasts out more. Mick hardened his resolve, doing his best to remain unaffected by the luscious sight of her. Looking at him, Delilah dropped the bra. Her breasts rose and fell with her accelerated breathing.
“Now the panties,” he said, feeling sweat dampen his back and shoulders. His hands shook with the need to touch her, but instead he went to the chair and removed the clothes, dropping them onto the floor. He turned to face Delilah—and she was breathtakingly naked.
As if she was overwhelmed, her head hung slightly forward, her hair shielding her expression. Her long legs were pressed together, her knees locked. Her hands flexed, opening and closing in small, nervous movements.
Mick was caught between wanting to stand there and look at her forever, and needing to be inside her now, this very instant.
Her nipples had flushed a dark rose, puckered tight. The black curls between her thighs looked silky, shielding her secrets.
“Don’t be shy with me, Delilah.”
Her head lifted, their gazes clashed. “I want to throw you down on the carpet. I want to strip your jeans off you and taste you again.” She licked her lips, panting. “I don’t understand it, but I’m not shy with you at all. I just want you. A lot.”
Mick held out his hand. “Then come here. Let me help you.”
She strode to him, her small breasts jiggling, her silky dark hair swaying. He caught her and held her away, but tipped up her chin so that she looked at him. “I want you to sit in that chair and let me pleasure you.”
She blinked hard and a slightly worried frown pulled at her brow. “Couldn’t we just—”
“No.” Mick moved her to the chair and urged her onto the hard seat. He smiled at the way she sat so straight and proper, her spine erect, her knees together and her hands in her lap. But not for long.
Going down on one knee, he sat back on his haunches. “Open your legs as wide as you can, Delilah.”
Her shoulders stiffened and color rushed into her face. “What are you going to do?” she asked, both breathless and excited.
“I’m going to kiss you.” He glanced at her face, then back to her sex. “Here.” Pressing his fingers between her thighs, he cupped her in his warm palm and felt her spontaneous jerk. Though she was tense, her breathing suspended, he could feel her, soft and wet, just as she’d said.
Shifting slightly, he stroked her, his fingertips opening her more, touching her distended clitoris. “Relax for me,” he murmured.
Instinctively, she curled forward before catching herself and, with some effort, leaned back in the chair. She took several deep breaths, and her thighs went limp, yielding to him as he pressed her legs wide. “Scoot to the edge of the seat.”
Her head tipped back and her eyes closed. He saw her throat move as she swallowed audibly. “Mick, I feel...exposed.”
“You are exposed,” he whispered, watching as she slid forward in a delectable sprawl. “I wish I had two good arms right now so I could touch you everywhere.”
Her eyes snapped open. “You’re not hurting, are you?”
“Shh. I’m fine.” He moved between her thighs and leaned forward to kiss her mouth, taking his time, enjoying her while he breathed in the spicy scent of her arousal. She curled her fingers around his upper arms and held on, making no move to push him away.
He could feel her impatience and drove her as far as he could, wanting her to remember this night forever. When she couldn’t stop squirming beneath him, he cuddled her breast in his left hand. He wanted to hold both breasts, but his right arm and shoulder felt numb with pain.
He teased her nipple, stroking with his thumb and carefully tugging until her back arched. “Give me your other breast.”
Her eyes slowly opened. “What?”
“I want you in my mouth.”
Understanding dawned and her look turned equally hot and gentle. She cupped her breast and raised it high. At the same time her other hand went to the back of his head and brought him forward.
At the sight of her offering herself so sweetly, Mick growled. He kissed her softly at first, plucking with his lips, lapping with his tongue. She moaned, pressing herself into him, and he suckled greedily, unable to get enough of her taste, her incredible scent. Delilah moaned and writhed and managed to raise herself enough to rub against the fly of his jeans.
Mick cursed the injury that kept him from taking her in all the ways he wanted.
“Mick!” She cried out, straining against him.
It was too much. He moved back and opened her legs even more. Her pink flesh glistened, wet and ready, and he leaned forward to taste her deeply, his left hand curving around her bottom and holding her still.
Delilah raised her hands and covered her own breasts, crying, moving with his mouth. He loved the taste of her, so hot and sweet. He pressed his tongue into her, slow and deep, then stabbed with quick motions, swirled and licked and teased, and when he knew she was near, when he felt the tremors going through her slender thighs, her belly, he caught her clitoris and drew on her gently.
Her contractions were so strong she nearly escaped him. Fingers biting deep into her soft ass, he held her close and did his best to block the pain of his injury, enhanced by her thrashing.
With one long, last, shuddering moan, she stilled. Her breathing remained ragged, loud, and she seemed boneless in the narrow chair, her long limbs sprawled for him, around him. Her hands dropped to her sides.
Shaken, Mick put his good arm behind her and rested his face on her belly. Though he stayed perfectly still, which eased his physical aches, his mind still reeled and his emotions rioted.
Damn, he thought. This level of connection was more than he’d expected, more than he’d even known existed.
It
scared him spitless, because he wasn’t a hundred percent sure he could trust in it, in her. He just knew he wanted her now, and he couldn’t bear the thought of any other man with her like this.
His arm tightened and he forced himself to say lightly, “You okay, sweetheart?”
“Maybe.”
He raised up to smile at her. “The taste of you is enough to make me insane.”
Her eyes remained closed, but she smiled. She took several deep breaths to calm her racing heart and said, “Know what I’m thinking?”
He lightly kissed her belly button, then nuzzled the soft skin of her stomach. “Vague, soft, happy thoughts, I hope.”
“I’m thinking I want you inside me.”
Mick clenched his jaw. He wanted to be inside her, but he didn’t see how he could. Much as he hated to admit it, he wasn’t invincible. His arm hurt like a son of a bitch, more so with every breath.
Her position in the chair had taken a lot of the physical stress off his arm and shoulder, but her soft moans had caused his muscles to tighten, to flex, and now his pain felt very real.
Delilah sat up. She cupped his face in her hands and said, “Did I tell you I took riding lessons?”
His shoulder screamed a warning, but his erection was more than willing to listen. “On a wild stallion, no doubt?”
Her smile was still softened by her climax. “No. As a little girl, my parents gave me riding lessons. C’mon.” She pushed at him gently until he moved back and gave her room to stand. She reached a hand down to him, and with a laugh, Mick came to his feet.
“First,” she said, “a pain pill for you. And no arguing. I promise to make it worth your while.”
Mick pulled her up short. “You don’t have to do this, sweetheart.”
“But I want to.” Her expression clearly showed her confusion. “I’m not doing you a favor by making love to you. What you just did...it was so wonderful. I had no idea.”
Mick wanted to know which part had surprised her, but he kept quiet.
