Sawyer, Meryl

by A Kiss in the Dark

  How was she going to get out of this? Royce asked herself. There was no mistaking Mitch's desire—or her own reaction. Her chest was so tight, she could barely breathe. Insistent currents of excitement warmed her inner thighs. The only sensible thing to do was talk.

  "Who's singing next?" Too late she realized she'd whispered into his deaf ear. He thought she was being provocative, because he lowered his lips to her neck and flicked his tongue across the sensitive curve. Goose bumps waltzed up her spine.

  Mitch's voice was filled with soft urgency. "There's only one thing that beats slow dancing."

  She knew exactly what he meant. His sex, hot and hard, pressed against her. She couldn't resist putting both arms around his neck and snuggling against him. Stop, she told herself, but she honestly couldn't. Being in his arms was so erotic, and yet comforting. Through this whole ordeal she'd yearned for someone to hold her, to reassure her things would be all right. A weak, childish reaction to be sure, but she couldn't help herself.

  His strong hands were caressing the small of her back. Then a hand roamed lower, fondling her bottom. They weren't moving now; this was only a parody of a dance. Not that anyone around them cared. There was so much kissing going on that this could have been a high school prom. Royce couldn't stifle a low moan as he held her against his rigid arousal. And then he was kissing her, his tongue moving with the same slow, evocative rhythm of the music—and his hips.

  "Let's get out of here."

  Mitch didn't give her a chance to protest; Royce didn't want to leave. Being cuddled felt too good. And now she'd have to find the words to tell him no. How could she, after giving him every reason to think she wanted to make love to him?

  The rush of night air outside the club cooled her flushed cheeks and brought another thought. Her father. She'd forgiven Mitch for what he'd done—almost. He was trying so hard to help her. Even so, a thought niggled at the back of her mind. Sex with Mitch would betray a lifetime of her father's love.

  Royce braved a glance at Mitch as he drove the Viper through the steep streets as if he were on a Le Mans course. Royce, boy oh boy, you've really done it this time. Shamelessly arousing a man, knowing you weren't going to make good on the implied promise, was inviting rape. Less honorable men wouldn't take no for an answer. But Mitch was honorable, she assured herself. Despite his cynical nature he placed a high value on his reputation. His word.

  He parked the Viper in the garage under her apartment and guided her out the side door, his arm anchored around her. Why doesn't he say something? She stopped at the stairs leading up to the apartment behind his home.

  "Good night, Mitch. Thanks for dinner." She moved away from him and put her foot on the first step.

  His strong hand clamped over her arm. He swung her around, his hands now on her upper arms, and walked her backward until the force of his weight thrust her up against the building. His legs straddled hers, permitting no chance for escape. His lips were dangerously close to hers.

  "Angel, you started something. You're going to finish it."

  "I'm sorry. I didn't realize."

  "Like hell you didn't." He pushed the brunt of his arousal, hot and blatantly aggressive, against her. "You want it bad."

  A frantic need to remember she hated him swept over her. Where was the memory of her father? I hate Mitch, she whispered to herself. It wasn't quite true, but it did give her courage. I hate him, she repeated to convince herself. "What you're doing is unethical. You could get in trouble with the bar association."

  "Now you've got me scared."

  "Let me go, Mitch."

  "We're way past the talking stage."

  He tried to kiss her, but she was too quick for him. She kept her teeth locked, her lips squeezed shut. She never knew a man could move so fast. Before she could stop him, he had her halter top undone and his hands were greedily exploring her bare breasts. The pad of his thumb grazed a nipple once. Twice. Oh, Lordy.

  Mitch pulled back and wantonly gazed at her exposed breasts, following every sensitive curve with his eyes. The moon would have to choose that moment to peek from behind a cloud to reveal her full breasts and raised nipples.

  "Five years. A helluva long time to wait. You better be worth it, Royce."

  That did it. Now she did hate him. Was she the prize in the One-That-Got-Away Sweepstakes? "I'll hate you for this."

  "Uh-huh. I love the way you hate."

  "Go to hell."

  His hands were on her breasts again, erotic hands molding her sensitive flesh and toying with her nipples. "Remember, angel, we're already in hell."

  What did you expect, Royce? Mitch is as contemptuous of sex as he is of life. Still, his attitude infuriated her. She wanted him to... to what? Be sweet? Be loving? Dream on, Royce. This is hell, remember?

  Mitch's mouth covered hers, commanding her lips to open with an assertive thrust of his tongue. His kiss was hot and rough—and thoroughly arousing. He used his hand under her derriere to bring her up on her toes. He pressed his arousal into the notch of her thighs until it fit snugly into the cleft. She couldn't resist moving against it—just a little— cuddling him, savoring the heat and the hardness for a moment.

  "You don't just want to get screwed, angel. You need it."

  The words hit home. Screwed? "You cocky jerk, don't do me any favors." Both hands on his chest, she shoved him hard.

  He grabbed her wrists in one hand and pinned them over her head. "I love charity cases."

  She swapped hostile stares with him. She had half a mind to scream. It would serve him right if the neighbors called the police. His eyes roved leisurely over her exposed breasts as they lifted with each angry breath. Almost of their own volition her nipples tightened even more, offering themselves to him.

  He dropped her arms and they fell to her sides. He nudged her chin upward and forced her to look into his eyes. "I'm not crazy about screwing alfresco, Royce, but I don't know if you can make it up to my bedroom."

  She opened her mouth to curse him, but his hand was under her skirt. Between her thighs. She'd felt the throbbing moisture building all evening, heightening these last few minutes.

  He actually laughed, a low, smoky sound that was unspeakably erotic. His talented fingers burrowed inside her panties, stroking her where she needed it most. Exquisite sensations overpowered her, rendering her incapable of protest. Guilt and common sense were swept away in a rush of desire while his questing hand took even more liberties.

  Unexpectedly, he stopped, his hand intimately cradling her, not moving but caressing her softness with an erotic touch. She bit the inside of her lip to keep from begging him to finish what he'd started.

  "Last chance, angel," he said with an insolent grin. "Tell me no and I'll stop." He took her hand and pressed it against his fly, forcing her fingers to curl around his erection. "Otherwise, I'm going to let you hate me until I get you out of my system."

  CHAPTER 18

  Son of a bitch, Mitch cursed under his breath. Royce had him nervous there for a second. He thought she might actually tell him no. Jee-sus, he would have had blue balls for a week, but he would have backed off. Instead he'd gotten to her. She hadn't said a damn thing.

  Close enough for government work. In seconds he had her out of what clothes weren't already half off. She was even sexier than he'd ever imagined, standing in the silvery moonlight filtering through the branches of the chestnut tree, her blond hair tumbled across her bare shoulders, her breasts rising and falling with each breath.

  She could destroy him in a second if she realized how much power she had over him. He'd be damned before he'd let her find out. He'd been down that course once. What had it gotten him?

  Get you out of my system. Those words changed Royce's mind. Why fight him? Denying she wanted him was futile. And getting harder each day. Admit it, Royce, at least be honest with yourself. You're obsessed with him. Mitch knew what a devastating effect he had on her and exploited it ruthlessly.

  Making love to him mi
ght be for the best. She desperately needed to get him out of her system too. It would ease the sexual tension between them, Royce decided.

  If they'd made love five years ago, it wouldn't have been an issue now. But frustrated desire often intensified—fueled by the imagination. Reality always destroyed these illusions.

  Royce shivered and reached for Mitch, but he backed away, quickly unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes traveled down her flushed breasts, across the peaked nipples, then moved lower to the crown of curls between her thighs. Finally, he gazed at her legs, inspecting every inch right down to her toes, which were curled into the plush grass beneath her bare feet. She didn't remember kicking off her sandals, but she must have.

  He tossed his shirt into the air, and it landed on the grass at the base of the tree. Mitch's eyes were tracking along her thighs while Royce watched his fingers on his belt buckle and the noticeable bulge below it. He yanked the belt free.

  Royce tried to swallow as he jerked open his trousers, but couldn't. How many dreams had she had about him? How many times had she imagined him naked?

  Nothing compared to reality. His shoulders were more powerful, the funnel of hair on his chest was denser, darker. Her eyes were drawn lower across his taut belly to the nest of hair cradling the proudest erection she'd ever imagined.

  "See something you like, Royce?" He took a step forward and nudged her down onto the cool grass, the scent of the damp earth and night-blooming jasmine filling her nostrils.

  He loomed over her, mysterious, menacing. Huge. And everything she ever wanted in a man. His eyes never left hers as he joined her on the ground. He angled himself across her, gradually letting her absorb his weight. His arousal nestled against her thigh, hot and shockingly hard.

  With the pads of his fingers he explored the soft curve where her breasts rested against her rib cage. She sucked in her breath and held it. Why hadn't someone told her how sensitive that area was?

  A shudder stirred deep within her, heightened by his lips purling over her breasts, leaving a damp, hot trail. With the point of his tongue he teased the sensitive nipple and drew it into the moist heat of his mouth with a touch of suction. The sensation was so utterly arousing, she dug her nails into his back.

  "Oh, Mitch."

  He blew across the taut bud. She felt the cool puff of air deep inside her body. She grabbed his head in a futile attempt to coax him to continue kissing her breasts. Instead he guided his shaft into the moistness between her thighs, homing in on her most sensitive area.

  "When I kiss you here's where you feel it, don't you, Royce?"

  The tip of his sex nuzzled her. Once. Twice. It was the most intimate, the most seductive caress she'd ever experienced. There was no way she could have responded, she was concentrating on not begging him for more.

  "Answer me."

  "Yes," she whispered, and then squeezed her eyes shut. Any second she was going to explode. Criminy, would that be embarrassing.

  He'd obviously given up his amateur status years ago and knew how to arouse a woman like a consummate professional. Why was she surprised? Everything Mitch did, he did exceptionally well.

  She opened her eyes when she felt the weight of his body leave hers. He grabbed his trousers, which were in a heap nearby, and fumbled in the pocket. It took a second for her to realize he had a condom in his hand.

  "You bastard. You had this planned all along, didn't you?"

  "Damn straight." His voice was husky and his eyes swept up her bare legs, lingering at the crest of her thighs, then moving upward more slowly across her breasts. Finally, his gaze met hers. "Tonight was the night, Royce."

  What could she say? Tonight was the night. Somehow she'd sensed it from the moment she'd looked up and seen him standing at the kitchen door. Still, it irritated her that he'd known it all along—and planned for it.

  "Sweet cheeks, you're damn lucky I didn't haul you into the storeroom at the club and take you—standing up—right there." He caught the edge of the wrapper between his teeth. A shaft of light from the moon glinted off the foil as he ripped it open.

  "Hell, I even considered pulling the car into some dark alley on the way home."

  She tried to joke. "The Viper's too small to—"

  "The hood's perfect."

  She gasped in utter astonishment, realizing he wasn't joking. He was completely serious. He would have taken her— anywhere—tonight. She'd known he desired her, but the undertone of passion in his voice frightened her. She was totally out of her league here.

  He handed the unwrapped condom to her. "You do the honors."

  Royce scooted to an upright position. She was eye level with his navel and a very intimidating erection, which she managed to ignore. Just below his belly button was an area of smooth skin the size of a half dollar. Beneath it a thin strip of hair unfurled into a dense thicket surrounding his sex.

  She brushed his erection aside, not knowing what possessed her, and kissed the bare spot. She flicked her tongue over the smooth area, savoring the baby-soft skin and the thoroughly arousing intimacy of kissing him in a secret place no one else knew about.

  How long had she wanted to taste him, really taste him? Years. His skin had a trace of salt and smelled erotically masculine. Mitch. This was truly Mitch.

  Aw, hell. Mitch wound his fingers through her hair, sucking in a steadying breath. Her golden curls tickled his cock and brushed against his thighs as her lips caressed his belly, her tongue tracing a lazy circle.

  A-mazing! He expelled his breath in a sigh that rippled through his body like a shudder.

  How had Royce zeroed in that area on the first try? The smooth skin beneath his navel had always been extremely sensitive. Other women had touched him there—accidentally. Not Royce, she'd homed in on the spot immediately. Face it, buddy. She has your number.

  She moved lower, her soft lips teasing him mercilessly, nibbling a little, tracing seductive circles with the moist tip of her tongue. Her hand cupped his balls, testing their weight. He sucked in his breath and shifted restlessly, as her inquisitive fingertips discovered the sensitive spot at the base.

  He knew what she was going to do, but he couldn't let her. He'd loose it before he was even inside her. Gritting his teeth, determined to remain in control, Mitch snatched the condom from her hand and put it on with one quick stroke.

  He eased her onto her back and nudged her legs apart, positioning himself between her thighs. His gaze locked with hers, he guided himself into her. She was wet, more than ready, but unexpectedly tight. She shuddered, clutching his bare shoulders, her nails digging into his skin.

  "Easy, angel, easy," he soothed, pushing his thick shaft deeper.

  She writhed beneath him, moaning slightly and raking her nails across his back, unable to completely accept his girth. Mitch pulled back, then slowly, excruciatingly slowly, edged forward again, squeezing deeper and deeper, his body quaking with pleasure.

  Had he ever been quite this aroused, this close to a climax without being completely inside a woman?

  He pulled back again, feeling her body grow even more moist, more accepting. Close to an orgasm, he surged forward and buried himself to the hilt. He wasn't sure if he gasped with pure pleasure, or she did. Hell, maybe they both did.

  Fighting to control himself, he drew back, edging out of her until only the tip of his shaft was still inside. Then he lunged forward again, using more power than necessary— just to experience the overwhelming thrill of possessing her, making her undeniably his.

  She lifted her hips to meet him, her silky legs wrapped around him. Welcoming him. She tucked her head into the curve of his neck, her breath moist and hot and unbelievably erotic against his bare skin.

  He lowered his lips to hers and thrust his tongue deep inside her mouth in a kiss as hot and carnal as his possession of her body. Her heart throbbed in her ears and she couldn't quite catch her breath.

  For a moment the force of his embrace, its overwhelming power, frightened her. It seemed to
come from some deep, hidden part of him that she had never imagined existed. The experience was utterly sensual, almost primitive, suggesting that nothing but complete surrender would satisfy him.

  She'd never dreamed anyone would make love to her with such all-consuming passion. She braced herself and welcomed the powerful thrusts, her face now buried against the curve of his neck, her arms wrapped around his shoulders. Each jolt swept her a little farther, a little deeper into a new world. His world. Each surge brought a heightened sense of... belonging to someone else.

  Suddenly, he went rigid in her arms and threw his head back, breathing from between parted lips, his teeth clenched. He lunged forward one final time. Hard. Deep. Totally satisfying. His release racked through her body with erotic power and something snapped inside her, tearing her from everything she'd ever known—except him.

  Seconds later he collapsed on top of her, his head nuzzling the crook of her neck, his breath hot and harsh against her skin. She loved his weight, the uncompromising possession of her body, his sex still embedded so deep that they were one.

  She stroked the back of his neck and found raised welts. Had she done that? Obviously. It didn't really surprise her. No one had ever made love to her with such abandon.

  She reveled in these strange new sensations. She'd been lost, but now she was found, discovered. She couldn't worry about the past or the future. For now, for this night, there was only the blissful present.

  It took a, few minutes for their breathing to approach normal as they lay cradled in each other's arms. Mitch raised himself up, bracing his weight on his forearms. He flashed her the cockiest grin she'd ever seen.

  "Angel, I love the way you hate me."

  A blast of hot sunlight awoke Royce and she groggily opened her eyes. The digital alarm clock read almost noon. She sat bolt upright, remembering she was in Mitch's bed. Last night hadn't been another erotic dream; it had really happened. She'd made love to Mitch over and over and over.