by Cara Summers
“What I want is to be inside you. Right now.” He held out a hand. “Let me make love to you, Sierra.”
“I have an idea.” At least she thought she did. Most of what was in her head was draining away. “Maybe there’s a compromise we can work out.” She climbed up on the bed and pushed him back against the pillows. “Give me fifteen minutes, and then you can take over and do anything you want.”
His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t reach for her. They both knew that if he did, she wouldn’t be able to resist. “Five minutes.”
“Ten.”
“I’m not sure I can keep my hands off of you for that long, Doc. How about we shoot for seven and a half?”
His words and the intensity of his look as he said them sent power shimmering through her. She nodded. “Deal. I’ll just have to work a little faster than I’d planned.” Although there wasn’t much of a plan in her head. Step two…she paused to consider, then said, “I want you to clasp your hands over your head.”
As he did what she asked, he said, “Are you going to tie me up with that scarf?”
Her brows shot up. “I have something else in mind.”
“Should I be worried about step three again?”
“You tell me,” she said as she moved over him until she was straddling him. The quick hitch of his breath as she did send her confidence soaring.
“You’re not quite in the right spot, Doc.”
“No. But I’ll find it in about seven minutes.”
Her idea in straddling his waist had been to kill two birds with one stone. Put herself in a position of power and get temptation out of sight. But she could feel the heat of his skin against her center and the promise of his erection against her backside.
Better not think about that yet.
“Step three, close your eyes.”
When he did, she found it was just a little bit easier to concentrate without his intense gaze stirring up her senses.
“Step four,” she said as she lifted the scarf and squeezed a single drop of water on a spot just below his throat. She felt his stomach muscles tighten beneath her, saw his knuckles whiten. Encouraged, she continued to squeeze droplets of water down his chest to a point at the apex of her thighs. It was then that she realized she didn’t have a step five in her head. She’d have to improvise.
“Step five,” she said as she inched backward and then leaned down to lick away the last drop of water that had dripped from the scarf.
The low deep moan he made vibrated through her, and bolstered once again, she continued to lick one drop at a time off his skin. “You taste wonderful,” she murmured as she reached his throat. “Better than ice cream or chocolate or…” When he murmured her name, she felt it vibrate against her lips, and following an impulse, she used her teeth on him.
He arched against her, and as she retraced the path she’d just taken, she took a detour to his nipples. His taste was different there—richer. The next spot she lingered over was his stomach where his skin had grown more damp than it had been before, and so hot, she could feel the fire spread from her mouth to her center.
And then she went lower, and lower, using her lips and teeth and tongue until she was straddling his thighs. There was something else she was supposed to do with the scarf, but she couldn’t think what it was. All she knew was that she had to taste him. Leaning over, she took him into her mouth and began to lose herself in him. Would she ever get enough of his flavor? Texture?
AS HE WATCHED her through half-closed eyes, Ryder knew what it was like to be slowly driven crazy. Or perhaps it was a done deal, and she’d already pushed him over the edge. He certainly felt as if his limbs, indeed, his whole body were encased in a straitjacket.
And he wasn’t even sure when the paralysis had crept in. The weakness had begun when she’d started to enumerate those slow, methodical steps—leaning over him with that serious frown as if he were some subject she was determined to study thoroughly. Then he’d lost track of everything but that wonderful, clever mouth of hers as it had moved over him. How could it be so soft and so demanding at the same time?
And now he couldn’t move. All he could do was watch her take him into her mouth, release him, and then take him in again. Each time the heat grew fiercer, each time the pleasure grew sharper. He’d never before turned over this much control to a woman. He’d never before known what it was like to be trapped between twin desires. He wanted to end the torture. He wanted it to go on. And on.
Just as he thought he couldn’t stand it any longer, she released him to move up his body—until she was almost where he wanted her to be.
“The condom,” he said in a voice he barely recognized as his own. “On the nightstand.”
She reached for it, tore the package open, and began to sheath him in it. The soft pressure of her fingers as she accomplished the task nearly did him in.
She lowered herself onto him just a little. He arched, but she evaded his thrust by moving upward and then she leaned down to whisper against his lips, “Step number six. You can come in. I want you inside of me, Ryder. Now.”
Ryder felt like a racehorse shooting out of the gate. Then she was beneath him on the bed, and he thrust into her with one hard stroke. She was so tight, so hot, so incredibly ready for him. Giving himself a moment, he lay perfectly still. But even as he dragged in a breath, his body began to move, withdrawing and plunging into her again and again.
He couldn’t seem to get deep enough. And each time he withdrew, she seemed to clutch more tightly around him as if she would never let him go.
He didn’t want her to. In some vague corner of his mind, he knew that he was losing parts of himself that he’d never get back. But he simply didn’t care. All that mattered was Sierra. He lifted his head enough to see that her eyes were open and on his. He increased the pace, felt her match him. Perfectly.
His voice was raw and barely audible when he managed to say, “Step number seven. Come with me, Sierra.”
And she did, moving faster and faster as he drove them both higher. He felt her clutch him even more tightly when her convulsions began.
His own climax hit him, slamming into him with such force that his vision grayed. All he could see was her; all he could call was her name as he shattered.
14
USING THE SLEEVE of her terry-cloth robe, Sierra wiped steam off the full-length mirror in the bathroom and studied her reflection. She definitely wasn’t the woman she’d been three days ago before Ryder Kane had kissed her. But she wasn’t Britney Spears or Eliza Doolittle or a Hitchcock heroine either.
Just who was she? The question had the nerves tangling in her stomach. Had she changed so much that she didn’t really know herself anymore?
She raised one hand and ran her fingers over her lips. The transformation had all started with a kiss. Of course, she’d known from an early age that kisses had a tremendous power. In the stories her father had read to her as a child, kisses had the power to turn a frog into a prince, to wake up Sleeping Beauty, and to bring Snow White back to life.
One thing she was determined to make sure of. She was not going to turn into that old Sierra Gibbs ever again once the favors Ryder was doing her were completed. Despite the band of pain tightening around her heart, she continued to study herself for one long moment. She liked the new Sierra better.
As for the dents in her heart, well, she’d deal with them. She’d suffered losses before, she’d lost both of her parents, and she knew better than most that nothing in life was permanent. Ryder was a man who did favors for people and he craved adventure. Just like Harry, he’d feel the need to move on. She’d better be prepared for that.
But she would never regret asking him for those two favors. The whole adventure had been worth it to learn that she was more Harry’s daughter than she’d ever believed herself to be. As for Ryder—well, the risks she’d taken with him had been worth everything.
There were so many facets to the man, so much to admire. There was the lo
ver whose face she saw above hers, so intent on giving her pleasure. Then there was the warrior, the man who’d drawn his gun, rolled into the street and shot the man who was trying to kill them. And there was the kid who loved to watch classic movies and race through a mall like a crazy person.
And she was going to lose them all.
But she’d survive. She’d just have to map out a plan. Turning, she moved to the door. Some kind of twelve-step recovery program would be good. There had to be one she could develop.
But the moment she stepped into the bedroom of the suite and saw him on the bed smiling at her, a new rush of feelings streamed through her. He was fully dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt, his back propped against the headboard and his legs crossed. And it felt so right to see him there sitting on a bed they’d just made love on.
The way her heart was taking a slow tumble had her realizing it was much more than lust or friendship that she felt for this man. And perhaps it wasn’t just a kiss that had transformed her.
She opened her mouth, not sure of what she was going to say when he gestured at the mattress and spoke. “I didn’t know what kind of candy you liked best so I brought a selection.”
“A selection?” Her gaze fell on the candy bars spread out next to him. She counted eight.
“That’s all they had in the machine, so I got one of each. What’s your favorite?”
She moved closer and studied the array. “What is this?”
“A little brain-food picnic. After all, we’ve got to be relatively safe here. And before we leave, I thought it might be a good idea to review what we’ve got so far and bounce some theories back and forth. Besides, we haven’t eaten since noon. What do you say, Doc?”
A mix of relief and disappointment moved through her. They weren’t going to talk about anything personal. They were going to talk about the case. It was better that way. She wasn’t ready. She…
Compartmentalize, she told herself as she reached for a plain chocolate bar.
“A purist,” he said, patting a space on the mattress. “I’m not surprised.”
Her chin lifted as she joined him, sitting cross-legged next to him as she unwrapped the candy. “Actually, I prefer chocolate-covered caramels. The expensive kind made by a chocolatier.”
He tore the paper off a bar that boasted peanuts and then said around a mouthful, “Probably aren’t any additives in that fancy stuff. My own personal opinion is that it’s the unpronounceable chemicals that help me think more clearly.”
Closing her eyes, Sierra swallowed the mouthful of chocolate she’d let melt on her tongue and sighed. “Additives or not, chocolate is definitely brain food.”
Ryder reached for his second bar. “The best. As soon as endorphins start flooding your system, your brain cells start perking up. Of course, soft drinks work, too—especially the kind with extra caffeine and real sugar. Take your pick.”
Sierra eyed the four cans sitting on the bedside table and selected a diet cola.
Ryder sighed. “I figured you’d skip the extra sugar. Now, I’ll have to think harder.”
Sierra popped the last bite of chocolate into her mouth and said around it, “I can hold my own. How did you know I’d love this?”
“I’m a genius at following clues. You had a burger and fries at the mall, and I checked out your kitchen. You don’t cook. Your favorite kind of chili is something you have to pick up or eat at a restaurant. But the biggest clue was the candy wrappers in your waste basket. It follows that you’re a junk food addict.” He spread his hands and shrugged. “Who’d have thought we have so much in common?”
Sierra took a long swallow of diet cola. They really didn’t have much more than a love of junk food and classic movies in common. She’d do well to remember that.
RYDER POPPED the tab on a caffeine-and-sugar laden soft drink and took a long swallow. She shouldn’t look so sexy in a unisex terry-cloth robe. And he should be able to ignore how she affected him and focus on the puzzle they had to solve.
He’d bought the candy and the colas as much to keep his hands busy as to help them think about the case.
“How did you ever get into black ops?”
Ryder nearly dropped the can of soda. Of all the questions in the world, that was one he hadn’t expected. She was looking at him as if she’d just asked him why he preferred nuts in his candy bars. “Why do you want to know?”
“Because I want to know more about you.”
“Okay. I can understand that.” He leaned back against the headboard. “It’s a short, boring story. After my aunt died, things were getting pretty hot for me on the street, and I decided that a stint in the marines would be a nice sabbatical.”
“A sabbatical?” Sierra raised her brows. “I’m surprised they haven’t thought of putting that on a recruitment poster.”
“Not manly enough.”
“And…?” she prompted.
“The first time we did target practice, I was transferred to a Special Forces unit.”
“You were a good shot,” she said.
“Yeah. And I did a tour of duty in Rwanda. We didn’t have the right kind of leadership or equipment. A lot of lives were lost because of those inefficiencies. But I believed in what we were doing there. Can you understand that?”
She nodded. “Ethnic cleansing is horrible.”
“When I was recruited for more covert operations, the job was presented to me as a more efficient way to handle problems that the regular armed forces couldn’t. I was good at killing, and I saw it as an opportunity to make a difference. That kid I used to be in Baltimore never thought of making a difference for anyone but himself or his aunt.” He met her eyes steadily. “I believed that I could make a difference. That was the way I thought back then. I regret it now, but I can’t take it back.”
Her gaze didn’t waver from his as she took his hand and linked her fingers with his. “Why should you? You were just a kid. You made the best decision that you could.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t change what I did. I killed people.”
“All you can do in life is make the best decision that you can at the time. It’s something that I’ve realized recently about my father. When he left us, he thought he was doing what was best for my sisters and me. I think that’s all you can ask of people. Realizing that has helped me to forgive him.”
She offered him the last half of her candy bar.
As he took the bite she was offering, a warmth blossomed inside him. He hadn’t expected her to understand. Since he wasn’t sure he understood it himself, he’d seldom allowed himself to reflect much on that part of his life.
“And look what you’re doing now. You operate a business where you do favors for people. And you make a difference for them,” she said.
“You know, Doc, it’s a damned shame you aren’t a psychiatrist, complete with a couch. It’s a real waste of talent.”
He leaned over and kissed her softly on the mouth, and the warmth spread, easing something inside him that he hadn’t been aware of.
When he drew back, he saw a question in her eyes that he was sure reflected the one in his. But he wasn’t sure how to answer.
Finally, she asked, “What made you get out?”
His smile was wry. “You might say I grew up and realized that everything’s not black and white. In fact, we live in a pretty gray world. I couldn’t justify what I was doing anymore, so when my tour was up, I said good-bye.”
“And now you work for yourself, and you’re the only one deciding what’s black and what’s white.”
“Exactly.” He reached over to take her chin. “I would only kill someone in self-defense now—or in defense of a client. Favors for a Fee is not some sort of hit-man service.”
“I never thought it was.”
There was a fierceness in her tone that had the tension in him easing once again. “My turn, Doc. Why sex research?”
The heat immediately flooded her cheeks. “The answer to that is short and bori
ng too. I was curious.”
“Give me the longer version.”
She began to fold the now-empty candy wrapper she was still holding. “I was hired by two departments at Georgetown: Psychology and Sociology. I funded the original studies with a grant I applied for through the sociology department. But then I got the book contract, and the psychology department urged me to widen the scope of my work to include personality profiles. So far my research assistant, Zoë McNamara, and I have contacted and interviewed hundreds of people. We’re concentrating on single people who live in cities.”
“So it’s a sort of modern-day Kinsey Report?”
“Nothing quite that revolutionary. A lot of people are doing sex research nowadays. The bottom line is that I applied for the original grant because I was curious. There was a lot I didn’t know about modern-day sexual practices. I hadn’t had much experience learning them firsthand. It was just one more way that I decided to live life vicariously.”
“Like living your life through movies and books,” Ryder said.
“Yes.” She met his eyes steadily. “I’m not going to go back to being that person. I have you to thank for that.”
“My pleasure, Doc.” He grinned at her. “Either it’s quite a study you’ve done, or you’re just a natural.”
She squeezed his hand. “I want you to know that I don’t think that I could have done any of what we’ve done with anyone else. I can’t thank you enough for the favor.”
His eyes narrowed. The favor. Again he wondered if she thought what had happened between them was all because he was doing her a damn favor. Annoyance boiled up, and he wasn’t sure what he would have said if the phone hadn’t interrupted him.
“Yeah,” he said into the receiver.
“Don’t kill the messenger,” Jed said.
“Hang on.” Ryder answered the question in Sierra’s eyes by saying, “It’s Jed. While you were in the shower, I called him to let him know he could contact me here for a while.” Then he said to Jed, “What have you got?”
