Always Ready

by Joanne Rock

  His thumbs kept up their sensual assault on her back, and she realized—wise or unwise—she wanted this last hour with him. She needed one more time in his arms that wasn’t tainted by drugs or fraught with worries that she was getting in too deep too fast.

  She already knew she cared too much and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it other than to enjoy these last stolen moments.

  “I don’t want to assume—” Damon slid one strap off her shoulder and leaned down to kiss the flesh he’d bared. “That is, if you have something else you need to do before you go—”

  “There’s nothing else I’d rather do.” Not one damn thing. She’d rather be here—an active participant in breaking her own heart—than doing anything else right now. “Let’s pretend we have all the time in the world.”

  Damon heard Lacey’s request and vowed to make it his personal quest for the next sixty minutes. He’d insulted her job, booted her out of her first hotel and failed to protect her from the toxin in her drink. So being able to do this much for her would be a pleasure. One small way to make up for so many things that had gone wrong.

  “If I had all the time in the world…” He unzipped her dress, taking his time as the teeth unfastened, loosening the fabric around her curves. “I’d spend a hell of a lot of it just looking at you.”

  He sent the dress to the floor with a gentle nudge, soaking in the sight of her lavender silk bra and panties splashed with embroidered pink polka dots.

  “Last night it was too dark to see anything.” She tugged at the strap of the bra as if she wanted it off, but he wasn’t done studying her.

  Maybe if he watched her long enough he would figure out what it was that attracted him to her more than any other woman. If only he’d met her later—at the end of his commitment to the Coast Guard.

  “If we had all the time in the world, I’d never make love to you in the dark again.” His eyes roved over her, devouring her. She wasn’t model thin. She was perfect. Curvy. Strong. Soft in all the best places.

  His body strained with interest as she twitched restlessly, her fingers skimming the elastic of her underwear, following the waistline until she paused at her hip.

  “That might be the nicest thing any man has ever said to me, Lieutenant.” She slid her finger beneath the elastic, one shiny pink fingernail dipping into the silk until it emerged on the other end of the fabric.

  Her eyes never left his face, but he couldn’t hold her gaze. He watched her teasing seduction like a teen at his first strip club.

  “I’ve got a lot more nice things to say,” he assured her, his mouth going dry as she smoothed that seductive finger along her abdomen, the nail disappearing back into the triangle of fabric moving toward her mound. “What will a few more compliments buy me?”

  She halted the tantalizing motion of her finger, never fully touching herself as her hand hovered just above her feminine center.

  “I don’t bargain away my favors,” she chided, rolling her hips for his benefit. “I just like to feel inspired.”

  He didn’t have a clue how to move her hand forward to where he wanted to see it, his creativity smoldering to ash as the temperature rose in the room.

  “I’d sure like to know what it takes to inspire a hot blond bombshell in the midst of a striptease.”

  With her free hand, she reached out to stroke his chest. The front of his flight suit right down to his fly.

  “I think a little visual stimulation is in order,” she whispered, her voice a throaty purr that undid him as much as the words.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he agreed so fast his hands were on his zipper before she finished the request.

  In the soft light of her hotel room, he observed her every movement, from the quick dip of her eyes to his lap to the rapid intake of breath that had her breasts testing the limits of her bra.

  The woman was a walking, talking feast.

  “That’s better.” She tucked her hand deeper into her panties, cupping her mound as her fingers cradled the flesh between her legs.

  The knowledge that he did that to her—made her want to touch herself—finally healed that raw spot inside him that had festered since Kelly left. His ex might not have wanted to stick around for him, but Lacey didn’t want to leave. She hungered for him so damn much she couldn’t wait for his touch.

  He shucked off his flight suit and ditched his T-shirt. Pulling her to him, he relished the feel of her against his skin. Her eyes opened wide, their gazes connecting for one sizzling second before he tugged her hand free of its place between her legs. Then, his eyes never leaving hers, he tasted each of her fingers with thorough sweeps of his tongue.

  Her knees went out from under her as she fell into him, her breasts spilling over the top of her bra to tease along his chest. The sensory input was enough to make him explode. The sweet scent of her drove him crazy, demanding he find the source of that taste.

  Backing her up to the bed, he pulled her legs out from under her until she fell into the mattress. He cushioned her fall with his arms, settling her onto the spread so her legs dangled off the edge. With impatient hands, he peeled away her panties then, positioning himself between her thighs, he kissed her intimately. Slowly. Thoroughly.

  Her hands traveled over his shoulders at first, but as he deepened the kiss and quickened his pace, they fell away. She sighed and twisted beneath him, her breathy sounds making him want her more. He pressed harder, gripping her thighs to steady her right where he needed her.

  She bucked underneath him, her hips rolling and thrashing as her legs trembled. He slowed down enough to slide one finger deep inside her. And then a second. She was drenched and shaking when he flicked his tongue against the tight center of her. Her gasp warned him he’d hit the right note in the moment before she tensed. Cried out.

  Her whole body shuddered with the force of her release and he savored every sensual spasm. The tremors went on and on, her nails raking over his shoulders as her heels pressed into his back. Not until she stilled again did he release her, his body on fire and rock solid, ready for hers.

  “Come here,” he guided her, sitting down on the bed before he helped her to sit on his lap, facing him.

  “I don’t know where I put the condoms,” she fretted, her eyes unfocused as she peered around the hotel room.

  “I’ve got them.” He’d been the last one to use them, after all. “They’re right here.”

  He’d stashed the box next to the bed, and, reaching down, he removed one from the packaging. His boxers were only half-off, landing somewhere around his knees as they’d shuffled down onto the bed. But he didn’t care. Nothing mattered except for being with Lacey right now.

  Apparently she thought the same thing. She pulled the condom from his hand and rolled it on, freeing him to cup her breasts and mold them to his hands. He raked her hips closer to his, pulling her up his thighs until the wet heat of her cradled his cock, setting his blood on fire. He lifted her up, positioning her at the tip of his shaft and then easing her down in slow, amazing degrees.

  The feel of her around him drove him insane. And having her there, nose to nose, mouth to mouth with him made him keenly aware of her as a woman and not just a hot sex partner. Lacey was spending her last hour in tropical paradise here. With him. Taking him deep inside her and giving him more pleasure than he’d ever imagined.

  Giving himself over to sensation, he shut down everything else to focus on the moment. Her. He wrapped her up in his arms and pressed his lips to hers, taking everything she had. She locked her ankles around his waist and held on, the tone of her urgent little sighs telling him she was close to finding release all over again. Heat slicked his back with sweat, the ocean air blowing in off the water keeping the room sultry. Lacey’s fingers dug into his shoulders, holding him tight as her back arched and her hips ground into his.

  Then his release hit him like a killer wave, pulling him under and down as sensation swamped him. He hadn’t expected it to hit so fast, but he c
ouldn’t hold back, not even when he felt Lacey’s fingernails dig deep into his arms and her sex tighten around him in the moments before orgasm. He just had to hope he didn’t break her rhythm…

  And then she shuddered once, twice, three times. Her body trembled with lush spasms as she found her peak and rode it out right alongside him.

  The scent of her filled his nostrils and he buried his head in her hair. His heart beat erratically, filling his ears with the sound of how off-kilter she made him.

  Logically he knew he ought to release her and help her get to the airport. The sooner she was out of Puerto Rico, the faster he’d be able to make his bust and ensure Castine never drugged anyone else. But with the alarm clock beside the bed illuminating the small window of time before they had to leave, Damon couldn’t stand to relinquish his hold on her just yet.

  “Lacey?” His voice rasped as if he hadn’t used it. Or as if he’d just shouted himself hoarse, a more likely scenario.

  “Mmm?” She flexed her toes behind his back, her muscles stretching against his sides. Still, she didn’t pick her head up from where it rested on his shoulder.

  “Lie here with me.” He leaned back, bringing her down to the mattress with him. “Just for a minute.”

  Or two. Or a lifetime.

  He didn’t know where the idea had come from, but he shut it down. He wouldn’t let regrets about what might have been ruin the here and now.

  “That was amazing,” she whispered in his ear, their bodies still joined. “I wish I didn’t have to leave.”

  He couldn’t speak, didn’t know how to express the firestorm she’d unleashed in him. All he knew was that the clock was ticking on their time together and once Lacey left, his world wouldn’t go back to being as dull and gray as it had been before she’d arrived.

  No. It would be worse, since now he would know exactly what he was missing.

  Chapter 12

  LIKE ANY MATURE ADULT LACEY held back the tears until she got home.

  She’d planned for the emotional breakdown from the moment she’d blundered through a hasty airport goodbye to Damon before stepping on the direct flight from San Juan to Miami. She hadn’t even let the tears fall in the privacy of her earth-friendly hybrid vehicle that Laura had talked her into last year. If she’d let the emotions flow in the car, she might have compromised her driving ability on the dark roads that led to a narrow causeway joining the mainland and one of the bigger islands. And she’d needed her wits about her to make the ferry that crossed to the more remote islands. As it was, she’d had to bribe the ferry operator a hefty sum to take her back home at the unusual hour.

  Now, walking into the quiet house that was her escape from the world, Lacey unlocked the barrier on her emotions. She dropped onto a stool at the kitchen island, not bothering to take her shoes off, and cried out her frustration.

  She cried over her business because she had struggled so hard and still met with meager success, and because she’d finally found some success and then had to walk away from the source of material for her newly popular blog.

  Mostly she cried over leaving Damon Craig.

  Walking away from him had hurt. The pain in her chest radiated through her whole body as she collapsed onto the granite countertop. Tears fell unchecked onto the smooth surface. She would have never guessed she would grow to care about anyone so quickly. So deeply.

  But that’s what had happened with Damon. It didn’t matter that she wanted to fall for someone after she’d secured professional success. Or that she planned to find happiness with someone whose characteristics helped her see in black-and-white print that they were meant to be together. She’d fallen for a stranger in a bar and made out with him on the beach before she knew jack squat about him.

  And things had only gotten better from there. She’d somehow forged the most compelling relationship of her life while ignoring everything she’d thought she understood about dating. She felt like a professional fraud.

  Yanking a clean dish towel off a shelf beneath the island countertop, Lacey swiped the cotton over her face to dry her tears and get a grip. She had no idea how she was going to recover from the heartache she’d been putting off her whole adult life, but now that she was in the thick of it, she realized she was glad she hadn’t avoided it this time. Life without feeling deeply was an existence only half-lived. And she wouldn’t trade her days with Damon for anything—not even the opportunity to erase the hurt inside her right now.

  Lifting her head from the granite, Lacey saw the world around her with new eyes. Her isolation. Her remote home that had felt like a retreat just last week suddenly seemed confining. Restricting her from finding happiness by wrapping her in total privacy.

  The surroundings appeared the same but different. Take for example the glass of water in the middle of the counter. She sure didn’t remember setting it there before she left. But now it sat there, reflecting the moonlight coming in off the water just outside the French doors.

  Why would she have poured a full glass and left it there?

  She set down the dish towel, a hairy sensation crawling down her neck. Turning to take stock of the rest of the house, she searched for things amiss, like the man stepping from the shadows.

  “Why so sad, Lacey?”

  Nicholas Castine stood in her living room, fifteen feet away. He held a gun in his right hand, the barrel pointed at her. Rumpled and unshaven, he bore little resemblance to the slick, smooth-talking businessman she’d met at Rosita’s Café last Friday night. Or maybe it was just that she now knew he was a drug dealer. Potentially violent. A sex addict who had followed her a thousand miles to her home.

  She tried to speak, but her voice didn’t come. Fear quivered through her and froze her in place.

  “I see I’ve startled you.” He smiled like a man genuinely enjoying himself. “It would have been so much easier if we could have coordinated schedules while you were in San Juan.”

  Lacey struggled to lock down her fear and remember some basic rules of human nature. She didn’t want to alienate him or make him mad. If he wanted to pretend they were friends who couldn’t “coordinate schedules,” that was fine by her. With a supreme effort she found her voice.

  “I had a work emergency,” she lied, hoping to draw the conversation away from their date. “Computer problems.”

  Her voice sounded thin. Terrified. But for the life of her, she couldn’t turn up the volume. Her heart beat fast and erratically, shaking her from the inside out.

  How had he gotten here? Did Damon know?

  Her chest ached with the sudden realization that she’d never told Damon how she felt about him.

  “Lucky for me, the El San Juan Hotel had this address on file for you.” He gestured to her home as he took two steps closer. “Nice place you have here.”

  She backed up to the island, wishing the knife drawer was a whole lot closer. She couldn’t think of anything to fight him with. For that matter, even if she got away from him, where would she go? Her home was the only residence on the tiny island well off the mainland.

  “It’s not quite as private as I would like between the boat patrols and the developers creating their own little islands all around me to accommodate buyers.” She sidestepped along the counter, feeling around behind her for anything in the recessed shelves that she could use as a weapon.

  “It seems private enough for my needs, but then, we won’t be here very long.” He closed the distance between them to stand face-to-face with her, the gun between them.

  He smelled like sweat and expensive cologne, a combination that made her want to throw up.

  “We?” She couldn’t help but wonder what plans he had for her. Hadn’t she read somewhere that being moved from the scene of a crime increased your chances of dying astronomically? If he moved her, she was as good as dead.

  “My associates and I.” He leaned close to her and she sucked in a breath to avoid contact.

  But at the last minute, he merely reached past
her and picked up the glass of water that she’d noticed on the counter earlier.

  “Can I get you a drink?” He waved the glass under her nose like a tempting treat.

  And still, the bastard smiled.

  “Drugs don’t agree with my system.” She clutched her stomach meaningfully. “I’d better not or I’ll be retching up my guts all night.”

  An old memory returned to her as she recalled telling her third stepfather the same thing when he’d tried to get her drunk on her seventeenth birthday. Oddly, she felt more in control now—even with a gun pointed at her navel—than she had back then when she’d had no faith in herself. She was smarter now. Stronger.

  “But maybe one of your associates would like it?” she offered, wondering how many other people could possibly be in the house or on the island. “I could make some sandwiches. You must be starving after your long flight.”

  She stepped toward the refrigerator, but he set down the water and gripped her arm with a steely strength she hadn’t expected in a man so lean.

  “I don’t think so, Lacey.” Yanking her closer, he set down the gun on the island to restrain her with both hands. “You and I have unfinished business.”

  He held her tight against him, the scent of his sweat and his man-whore perfume turning her stomach. “We’re going to address that before I put this property to work for me as a drop-off point. Have I told you that you have excellent taste in drug-lord hideouts?”

  He reached for her blouse with no warning and, gripping the collar, shredded it with one violent tear. Lacey screamed in surprise, seeing his mood swing from congenial to lethal in an instant.

  Cool air filtering in through the French doors hit her bared skin like a splash of icy reality. This man would hurt her, body and soul. And then he’d kill her.

  She saw it in his eyes.

  Seizing her chance while the gun lay idle, Lacey kneed him in the balls. Jammed her fingers into his eye socket.

  Then she ran like hell.