He was undeniably sexy. His appeal was rough—tougher than the usual academic types that she went for—and who usually dumped her when she refused to put them before her work.
She skimmed her hands over her flesh, traveling the same path she knew his would take. She held one breast, her own thumb strumming over her nipple. Her other hand traveled to the juncture between her thighs and she ran her finger over the top of her sex, slick and swollen, with want. Her own touch was a paltry substitute for Roman’s.
And at the same time, a small voice in the back of her mind asked, Why? Why stand alone in the cold, when she could be warmed in Roman’s embrace? Why reject affection and spurn her longing, when she could lose herself in his arms? Why hold on to an antiquated truth that she would be a bad person for giving in to her nature, when all she wanted was to be free of expectations—at least for now?
Her hands fell still and silent, and hung at her sides. She opened the door, just a crack, and peered out. Roman stood at the window, his head rested upon the sill, his gaze trained to the woods that surrounded them. He’d pushed up his sleeves and his tattoo peaked out from the cuff.
Hoc defendam. This we’ll defend. For Roman, it was more than a motto, it was a way of life. And she should know. He promised to keep her safe, and he had. It was his courage and conviction that drew Madelyn to him as much as his physique. Which said a lot, because his body really was a work of art.
His form was bathed with golden sunlight, making him look like a god come to earth. Her own Apollo, ready to carry her into the heavens. His pants hung low on his waist and hugged his well-formed rear. His broad shoulders looked as if they could bear the weight of the world. While she was sure that his strong arms would carry her to the edge of ecstasy—and beyond.
At the same time, Madelyn recognized that there was more to her attraction than a chemical reaction—pheromones and high levels of serotonin. It was him—the way he willingly sacrificed himself to ensure her safety. That he cared for her well-being, even if it was to offer her clean clothes and a bowl of canned pasta. All that, and rock-hard abs. She was a fool not to take him as her lover.
But if she did, then what?
Madelyn let the door fall closed and leaned into the wood, unsure whether she should congratulate herself for restraint or curse her cowardice.
Was her drive causing her to let life glide by? No. She hadn’t entered medical school blindly. She understood what the sacrifices—both financial and personal—required. Yet, she was not on campus. There was nothing to study, nothing to save for right now. In fact, no one would ever need to know if she let go, just this once.
It wasn’t as if she were a virgin. Roman would be far from her first lover. Well, not too far from her first lover...
She took a breath, looked at her reflection and opened the door. Roman remained by the window. He turned as the door creaked on its hinges. His eyes opened wide, his mouth slipping into an O of surprise. Both lasted the briefest of seconds before his gaze darkened and his lips set into a thin line. Did he disapprove? There was no way she had mistaken the passion in their kisses and his desire for more. As she stood there, Madelyn felt more exposed than simply being naked.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, “but I don’t want you to feel pressured into doing anything. You said no—I get it.”
“If you haven’t noticed, I don’t allow myself to be pressured into things I don’t want to do, even if they’re for my own good. Besides,” she dared to joke as she crossed her legs and folded her arms across her chest, “maybe a roll in the hay is just what the doctor ordered after last night.”
“I want to make love to you, Madelyn. I like you—that’s why I want to be with you. Not because I need consoling or we’re stuck in the mountains without any internet access.”
“Am I being chastised?” she asked.
“Warned.”
“If you’ve changed your mind, I can just finish washing up...”
Before she could step back into the bathroom, Roman crossed the floor. His lips, heated and ardent, were on hers. His hands blazed a path across her skin. She met his kiss with her own, their tongues joined, dancing and fighting for submission and control. She fumbled with the buttons of his shirt and peeled the garment over his head.
His pecs were strong and his abdomen rippled with muscles. A dark sprinkling of hair covered his chest and ringed his nipples. Meeting in the middle, his chest hair traveled in a straight line down to the waist of his low-hung camouflage pants.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, rising on tiptoe to deepen the kiss. He was hard, the fly of his pants pressed into her belly. His hands traced her body, as if he was trying to memorize her form by touch alone. Shoulder. Arm. Waist. Thigh. Then his palm cupped her breast. His thumb brushed over her nipple, sending a rush of desire flowing across Madelyn’s skin. He rolled her nipple between thumb and forefinger, pleasure and pain becoming one. She gasped and gripped his shoulders. His kisses moved from her lips to her neck, her shoulder, her breast. He took each nipple into his mouth in turn.
Right now, Madelyn’s entire universe was in the cabin. She and Roman were the only two people in the world who mattered.
His mouth traveled lower, his tongue on her rib cage, her stomach. Lower still, until he knelt before her, worshipping at the altar of her sex. He explored her with his tongue, tasting and sucking. He slid one finger inside of her and then another. His fingers moved within her as his tongue and mouth took control.
Madelyn’s veins filled with molten gold and from her core, a tide of pleasure began and spread outward. The swells grew until the tips of her fingers and the soles of her feet tingled. Then the waves rose, as Roman continued to attend to her with both mouth and hands, and she floated upon a great sea of bliss. Madelyn rode higher and higher and higher until she cried out with her climax. The echo of the receding surf resonated in her pulse and the salt spray mixed with the sweat that covered her skin.
Yet, she was far from being done.
Because after all this, now there was only one thing about which Madelyn was certain. She was going to make love to Roman DeMarco.
Her legs weak, Madelyn leaned into the wall at her back as Roman stood to face her. She kissed him, tasting the depth of her satisfaction, and worked the clasp free from his belt. Together, they wrestled his pants down just enough to free him. He reached around to his back pocket and pulled out his wallet and then the foil packet of a condom. He removed the translucent condom from the wrapper and she slid it over his length.
He kissed her again and gripped her thighs. Lifting her, Roman braced Madelyn against the wall and she wrapped her legs around his middle. He entered her in one stroke. Lips. Bodies. Sweat. Breath. Cries of pleasure filled the morning. Sunlight danced across their skin and cast their shadows on the floor. Their coupling was raw, primordial. As they moved together, each instinctively knowing the intricate steps of their dance. Only him. Only her.
Another orgasm clenched Madelyn. She held tighter to Roman’s broad shoulders, her nails biting his skin—trying to find purchase. As her pulse slowed, Roman’s hips rocked forward once, twice and once again. He threw his head back and moaned with pleasure.
They remained together, her legs around his middle, with him inside of her, for a minute longer before she slid from his grasp. His hands cupped her face as he gently placed his lips on hers. She savored the sweetness of the kiss, and at the same time wondered, Now, how am I different?
* * *
Propped up on his elbow, Roman lay on his side. Madelyn, having fallen into a comatose-like sleep after their lovemaking, lay next to him. They once again shared the sleeping bag. She had redressed in the sweatshirt and her panties. He wore his pants and nothing else. Her back was nestled into his chest. Her breaths were long and low. He needed to check on the generator, it should be fully charged soon, but he loathed the notion of leaving Made
lyn’s side.
The memory of being sheathed inside her came to him with excruciating clarity and he hardened. In her sleep, Madelyn stirred and arched her back—grinding into him more.
Roman felt his hips rock and fisted his hands as if in agony. He needed, wanted to make love to Madelyn again, and again, and again.
She yawned, and from his position over her shoulder, he saw her eyelashes flutter and open.
She was awake.
Roman could hardly be blamed for his physical reaction, and while he imagined she’d understand, he still felt like a creep of the first order. His heartbeat did a Sousa march.
“Well, that’s a fine way to wake up,” she said. Her voice was husky and slow.
“It’s just that, well, I...”
“No need to explain,” she said. She rolled over to face him. Her hand rubbed his crotch.
Roman sucked in a breath.
“I just want to know if you’re prepared to use that weapon, Soldier?” she asked, teasing him in more ways than one.
He was, and then some. Roman’s lips met hers, as Madelyn unfastened his pants and freed him. She circled his tip with a finger and collected a bead of moisture. Using his own lubrication, she slid her hand up and down his length. “I want you again, Roman,” she said.
Up until now, Madelyn had been reluctant to become lovers, using biomedical mumbo jumbo as her excuse. And now she was ready for more?
Was Roman being used for sex? Was he annoyed by the idea? Definitely...maybe. He was realizing that he wanted more from Madelyn than simply a physical relationship—but they both had barriers to overcome. And yet, he could deny her nothing. That was true from the first moment he saw her and he saw that with startling clarity.
It was why he didn’t make her leave The Prow when she showed up at Oleg’s office. It was why he came to cabin, where he knew she’d be safe, instead of going to Denver. It was why he agreed to find Ava when he had the world’s greatest criminal to track down.
Her hand stopped moving and Roman could’ve wept.
“You don’t have to quit,” he said.
“I wasn’t planning on it.” Madelyn licked her open palm.
Roman hardened even further. She gripped him steadily, her strokes were long and slow. From the base to the tip and back again. He rolled to his back, giving her total access. But he wanted more from her.
“I need to be inside of you,” he said, tugging Madelyn close to him. “Come here.”
Pulling off her sweatshirt, Madelyn sat astride his waist. He slid into her with a single thrust. Moaning, she bent to him, kissed him. He cupped her breasts. They fit into his palms perfectly and her nipples hardened under his touch. Roman drove into Madelyn as she whimpered with pleasure. A shimmy ran through her body and Roman moved his hand to the top of her sex.
He stroked her, so hot and slick, that he almost lost control and climaxed himself. Sweat-slicked skin. Hot mouths. Eager tongues. Moans of ecstasy and cries of delight. Roman’s senses were overloaded. It was more than the physicality of the moment, it was the fact that she made him whole.
Madelyn increased her pace, driving down on him harder. He matched her stroke for stroke as she glowed with perspiration.
She reared back and cried out. Her innermost muscles clenched as they came together. Only as the echo of his final throb faded did he think.
“Damn. No condom.”
“It’s okay,” she said, “I’m on the pill and I’ve been tested for everything.”
Roman had a full physical workup annually, and he’d practiced safe sex since his last doctor’s visit. Still. “I should’ve taken care of you. I guess I got caught up in the moment.” It was a lousy excuse.
“I did, too,” she said as she snuggled into his chest.
Roman draped an arm over her shoulder and pulled her closer. She was soft and petite everywhere he was large and rough.
“But, I’m an adult, too, you know,” she sighed. “I can take care of myself.”
“I like taking care of you.”
She kissed the inside of his wrist. “You know, if it weren’t for you, I’d be dead now.” She gave a little shiver. “So I’m glad I have someone watching out for me.”
Her statement brought back the thought that had never left.
Roman had valuable information about Oleg Zavalov and, more important, Nikolai Mateev. Even though the obstacles before Roman were difficult, he could handle each step of the journey. The first step, the hardest one by far, would be to let go of Madelyn and return to the real world, especially since she wanted nothing more between them.
* * *
Oleg shifted in his seat. His eyes burned and his head throbbed. He tried to recall the last time he’d slept. Yesterday, he thought, or was it two days ago now? He refocused on the road as each revolution of the tires carried him closer. Closer to what, he didn’t know. Either breathtaking glory or certain doom.
The phone in his pocket vibrated and chirped. He took his eyes from the road for a second to swipe to answer, then look at the caller.
A split second after he answered, he remembered: it wasn’t even his phone.
Oleg’s pulse spiked and he dropped his foot on the accelerator, as if he could outrun the person on the other line.
“Da,” he answered. Yes.
“Serge?” Vomit rose in the back of Oleg’s throat. He’d only spoken to Nikolai Mateev twice before, but he’d recognize the gravelly and deep voice anywhere.
“Net, eto Oleg.” No, this is Oleg.
“Oleg? Why do you have Serge’s phone?”
The memory of Serge, laid out on the floor of the beer cooler, returned to Oleg. He had tried to be careful by shutting down the bar right after finding the body, but Nikolai had eyes and ears everywhere. What had he heard? What did Nikolai suspect?
“He’s busy,” Oleg said, giving the first lie that came to mind.
“Well, then, I will speak to you. I need to be picked up at eight o’clock. You will be ready. My nephew will be ready. My money will be ready.”
Nikolai’s money—two million dollars in US currency—was in a dozen different accounts throughout the state. It would take Oleg hours, no days, to liquidate it all. Per the GPS, he had another hour to the road—perhaps too long of a trip for a hunch. Maybe he’d be better served by turning around and dealing with the cash.
“Everything will be as you want,” he said to Nikolai. Oleg had no idea how to keep his promise, yet there was nothing else for him to say. He waited a beat for Nikolai’s response. Then a moment more. He pulled the phone from his ear and stared at the screen.
It was blank. Nikolai had hung up.
Oleg examined the phone and withdrew his own cell from his pocket. Then Anton’s, as well. They were all the exact same. It should have been an inconsequential detail. Instead, it had been an important fact, and one that Oleg was foolish to have missed.
“Chert.” Damn.
Returning his own phone to his pocket, Oleg threw the other phones to the passenger seat. Had Nikolai believed him, or was Oleg being set up?
* * *
Roman knelt before the fire and stoked the flames. He peered at the ravioli that had been set over the fire to cook. Steam rose from the pot and the sauce began to bubble.
“Can you watch this?” he asked Madelyn. “The generator’s charged enough to use the radio now. Once I’ve broadcast on RMJ’s secure channel, we’ll eat and then leave. It’ll give the crew in Denver enough time to meet us at the creek.”
Madelyn rose from the sleeping bag. After wiggling into her jeans, she slipped back on the sweatshirt. It was a crime to cover up such beauty, but Roman said nothing.
She traded places with him at the hearth and scraped the sides of the pot. “How will we cross the creek when we get there. The volume of water was strong.”
; “The folks from RMJ will bring a rope to throw across the stream and a life preserver. It’s what I’d do.”
“They’re professionals, right?” she said, dishing out the pasta.
“We all are.” Roman accepted the bowl and spoon, liking the fact they were sharing another meal a little too much, and turned to the generator. He took a big bite, the roof of his mouth burning, but he didn’t care about the discomfort. “Damn it,” he cursed. “Damn it, damn it, damn it.”
“It is hot,” Madelyn said. “I should’ve warned you.”
“Not the ravioli.” He didn’t care about food anymore. “The generator.” He slapped the top, the side, the top. “It was fifty percent charged just a minute ago, and now there’s nothing. Something is wrong.”
“Which means what? You have more work to do?”
Roman looked out the window. The sun was almost at its zenith, and half the daylight was gone. He could stay and work on both the generator and the radio, hoping that next time he actually fixed them both.
And if he didn’t?
He couldn’t waste any more time. Roman had to act. He scooped several bites of ravioli into his mouth, chewed quickly and swallowed. “If I leave now, I can make it to the road in an hour—maybe two.”
“But what about the creek? You said it was treacherous.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Or you might not. Last night you had hypothermia. Dousing yourself in cold water is never a good idea. In this instance, it might be deadly.”
“The sun’s out, it’s getting warmer.”
“Which means more runoff from the snowmelt, which means faster running and colder water. It’s a bad idea for you to be out there alone.”
How long had it been since someone cared for Roman’s well-being? How long had it been since it mattered if they did? Then again, maybe she was only concerned about him in a medical sense, not a personal one. Their dual session of passion notwithstanding, she’d made it clear that she didn’t want any romantic entanglements.
Her Rocky Mountain Defender (Rocky Mountain Justice Book 2) Page 10
