For a moment, he stared into her heavy-lidded eyes, touched by what he felt for this woman. As hot as he was, as much as he wanted inside her, the tenderness between them consumed him—it was unexplainably perfect. Their passion was both erotic and innocent, simple and complex. The emptiness inside him cried out, twisted in his gut, reaching for her.
Constantine kissed Nicole again, desire pulsing in his blood, warning that a kiss would soon not be enough. Nevertheless, he found himself lingering, savoring these moments. The taste of her, the feel of her skin against his, her breasts pressed to his chest.
Slowly, Nicole lifted her lips from his, depriving him of her kiss. She searched his face, emotion brimming from beneath her dark lashes, emotion that made words unnecessary. She was looking for confirmation that they felt the same way; he could see it in her eyes. There was something about her in that instant, a vulnerability that spoke to him with such completeness that he thought he might be looking in a mirror, seeing himself. A likeness that drove past the sexual desire they shared—a likeness that wrapped around them and made them one. He wanted to be one with her, buried to the hilt, the warmth of her surrounding him.
As if she read his mind, she inched away from him, reaching for her shorts. He did the same, working to shove the material down his hips. But his eyes remained riveted on Nicole. She wasn’t shy about her body, as sunlight spilled through the window, and she showed no hesitation at being exposed. By the time he’d discarded his clothing, she was crawling toward him, her breasts swaying seductively with the action.
She bit her bottom lip as her gaze swept his erection. Her tongue darted over her lips, and he groaned, the action reminding him how sweet it would be on his cock. She settled at his right hip, again on her knees. Her left hand brushed his shaft and his heart jackhammered, his eyes shutting for a second before opening. He watched her hand travel over his length, the view of the exploration stimulating him as much as the touch did.
Delicate fingers swept up and down his shaft, trailing the ridge around his engorged head and then spreading the dampness gathering there, the proof he wanted inside her. But he held himself in check, aware that the wait would only make the bliss all the more powerful.
There were a million erotic things he wanted to do with this woman, but right now, right now, he simply wanted to be a part of her. He wanted to be lost inside the wet, perfect heat of her body.
“I need to be inside you.” The words were guttural, hungry, and he hesitated no more. He pulled her across his lap, holding her weight as her hand wrapped around his shaft, guiding it to her core.
She acted swiftly, as if she, too, felt the urgency, slipping the head of his shaft inside her, and then starting the seductive slide downward. Adrenaline sizzled through his nervous system, stealing his breath. By the time they were one, pelvis against pelvis, a whisper from kissing, he was on fire—blazing red-hot and emotionally charged. In a far corner of his mind, he recognized this was sex—where the hell had the emotion come in to play?
His nervous system was in overdrive. Every breath he managed came with a sensation, a charge. And from the heavy rise and fall of her chest, she felt the same. But for some reason, he wanted to know for certain.
Intentionally, he kept his body still, fighting the urge to pull her hard against his cock and thrust into her. Instead, he brushed the mass of shiny blond locks from her creamy shoulders and caressed his way down her arms. She shivered and leaned into him, her arms wrapping around his neck, nipples brushing his chest. “What are you doing to me?”
And so he had his answer. She was as lost in him as he was in her, equally uncertain about why or how. He’d bedded his share of women. Hard and fast, slow and easy. Though never, ever, had he lost himself by merely having a woman take him inside her. But he was lost now.
His fingers brushed her nipples and then tugged lightly. A gasp escaped her lips, and the muscles of her body tightened around his cock. He tugged a bit harder and she moaned, her muscles squeezing harder this time. Suddenly, her mouth was on his, her tongue delving past his lips, her hips beginning to rock against him.
Pleasure shot through his groin and exploded throughout his limbs, threatening to consume him. But he wanted her pleasure more than he wanted his own. He continued to tease her nipples, applying pressure, twisting and tugging. She gasped against his mouth.
Constantine started to pull back, afraid he’d hurt her, but her hands closed over his, her tongue stroking him with a hungry kiss. There was no pain in the kiss, only pleasure. She rocked forcefully now, and he pumped his hips to match her movements. When he had the position perfect, he used his mouth to suckle one nipple, then the other.
Her gaze fixed on his mouth as his lips worked against her breasts, her heavy-lidded gaze saying she was aroused by watching. The harder he suckled, the faster she jerked her hips, adding to the pressure on her nipple. He caressed and tweaked the other nipple, pleasuring her again and again, but also needing more.
He continued to suckle her nipple, but his hands went to her hips, wanting leverage. He thrust upward, and pulled her down at the same time. She cried out and grabbed his arms, using them to push herself down on him. Thrust, push, thrust, push. The room filled with noisy heavy breathing. They were wild with passion, fulfilling their need. To be closer, to move faster and harder. Nicole screamed with pleasure, softly pleading for him not to stop.
Tongues tangled as they devoured each other, hands everywhere, bodies bucking, primal animals in heat. Abruptly, he felt Nicole stiffen, heard her gasp a second before her nails dug into his shoulders. Spasms closed down on his cock, pulling at him, taking him. She shook with the force of her release. He took control then, grinding her hips down against his, pumped once, twice, three times—and then he exploded. The power of his release ripped through him from deep in his groin, and he, too, was shaking.
When eventually they stilled, their heads buried in each other’s shoulders, surreal silence surrounded them. They inched apart enough to stare at one another, searching each other’s faces. What had happened between them? That was the unspoken question in the air. Whatever it was had Constantine’s insides quivering in an indescribable way.
Nicole reached up and softly traced his brow, tenderness sweeping across her face, and then she rested her head back on his shoulder. His heart squeezed; his chest was tight. He could barely breathe. This connection, this bond, had to be a facade, the result of the adrenaline rush of being on the run. Didn’t it? But deep down, he knew it was more. He couldn’t fall for Nicole. He was nothing but trouble. Hell. He didn’t want to be worried about someone. He didn’t want someone else to fear for. That part of his life was behind him.
“What are you doing to me, woman?” he whispered, repeating the question she had asked of him earlier.
Nicole didn’t respond, but she tightened her arms around him. Seconds passed and they relaxed into each other, their breathing the only sound in the room. Holding her in those moments came with a sense of peace and serenity, an experience unique, never to be reproduced. There might be other special times, other amazing moments. Or perhaps there would be none. That possibility clenched his gut. He didn’t move, nor did she. Perhaps they were both afraid of ending something that might never be repeated.
Constantine contemplated sleeping with her in his arms, recognizing his desire to keep her close. He had even started to ease them both to the mattress when a sudden pounding on the door brought him back to reality. He tensed, preparing to defend Nicole. Her fingers pressed into his shoulders, and she leaned back to search his face, anxiety shining in the depths of her eyes.
“Housekeeping,” someone called through the door, the female voice carrying a heavy Hispanic accent.
Nicole expelled a breath, her body going limp with relief. Constantine felt nothing of the sort. They’d only checked in a few hours before. Housekeeping should know this. Besides, pretending to be “housekeeping” would be an easy trick to get the door open. With regret, he
motioned for Nicole to climb off him; her expression quickly filled with worry again as she scrambled for her clothes.
Constantine snatched his shorts from the floor about the time the knocking started again. “Housekeeping!” A key was being jiggled in the lock. Thankfully, he’d flipped the inner latch so it would catch before the door fully opened.
“Ahora no,” Constantine shouted out, telling the woman in Spanish “not now,” dropping his shorts in exchange for the Glock on the nightstand.
He bolted across the room, arriving at the door as it came open, hitting the barrier of the steel latch. Constantine peered through the opening, the housekeeper looking at him through the crack. He repeated his prior words and went on to demand why she was even present when they’d only checked in hours ago.
The woman responded to his demands with an onslaught of Spanish, which concluded with an apology. Constantine relaxed marginally and sent the woman away. He slammed the door shut and slid the lock into place. Then he turned to stare at Nicole. Still on the mattress, she was on her knees, her shirt in place but nothing else, nipples peaking beneath the thin material, and clearly showing the dark triangle between her legs. His gaze devoured the sight, his body stirring.
Nicole hugged herself. “Are we okay?” she demanded. “Should we leave? What did she say?”
“We’re fine,” he answered, starting toward the bed. “I was being safe. Better safe than sorry.”
“You’re sure?” she asked, as he set the gun back on the table. Her eyes scanned his body, widening ever-so-slightly as she noticed the growing girth of his erection.
His knees hit the mattress. “As sure as I can be under the circumstances.”
“On a scale of one to ten—”
Constantine cut her off with a disbelieving laugh and reached for her. She frowned, her hands pressing on his chest a bit defensively. “What’s so funny?”
“You trying to find control someplace that it can’t be found.” He tugged at her shirt and pulled it over her head, finding no resistance on her part. His palms framed her breasts and then slid to her cheeks. “I said, we’re fine.”
She didn’t look convinced, and he shook his head at her stubbornness. Grabbing the blankets, he motioned for her to join him underneath. They crawled under, lying down, heads on their pillows, facing each other.
“I know it’s hard to be calm, but try.”
She nibbled her bottom lip a minute, and he could see by her expression that her mind was racing. Another worry-laden question followed. “Shouldn’t we flip on the news and find out about the hurricane?”
Remarkable, he thought, and found himself wanting to smile again. “Later.” The mattress was starting to call him to slumber. “Come here.” He urged her to turn around, her back to his chest.
She snuggled against him without argument, a surprised sound sliding from her mouth as he settled his erection against her backside. “You’re hard again.” She said the statement as if she’d just noticed, which they both knew wasn’t the case.
“Hmm,” he murmured. “I seem to have an unlimited appetite for you, even when I’m exhausted. In fact, I was thinking of some delicious ways of using the rest of the honey that room service brought with my biscuits.”
“Were you now?” she purred seductively.
“Oh, yeah,” he whispered near her ear, as he nuzzled her neck. “It’ll taste much better on you. I’m sure of it.”
A soft, sensual laugh slid from her lips, and she snuggled against him, her hips doing a sexy little wiggle. Then she sighed and seemed to melt, as if she were giving herself to the bed, to the need to sleep. Maybe to him. Yes. To him. Another time he would analyze why that idea appealed to him so much.
A full minute passed in which he assumed she was falling asleep until her tentative voice filled the air. “What was his name?”
His gut clenched. He hated talking about his brother. “Antonio.”
“Younger or older?”
“Younger by five years. He was twenty-seven when he died two years ago.”
One second, two. “You felt protective like I do about my sister.”
“Yes,” he whispered. “Kind of ironic considering he was tough as nails and made his living protecting others.”
She maneuvered to her back and touched his cheek before settling on her side to face him. “The horrendous crimes we see give us a reality no one else has. We know how easily life can be stripped away, without reason. How can we not? I eat breakfast, lunch and dinner reading case files telling gruesome stories with graphic pictures. You see those things firsthand. I can’t imagine what that is like.”
“It’s part of our job,” he said, realizing he’d had this conversation once before. With his brother.
“The job doesn’t come without consequences. We have to deal with what we see, and it’s not always easy.”
But it was easy for him. He felt nothing. Hadn’t since about a month after his brother’s death. It was how he’d survived Alvarez. “Somewhere along the line I found a way to switch it off. I feel…nothing. Not really. Not often.”
She made a disbelieving sound. “Yes, you do. I’ve seen the intensity in your eyes when you talk about Alvarez and Carlos. You found a way to tuck your emotions into some corner of your mind, but the feelings are still there.”
“Is that how you deal with your past?”
“Yes,” she replied, a hint of pain lacing her tone. “I’ll be glad when I get as good at it as you, though. Being responsible, even indirectly, for a murder makes for a lot of sleepless nights. I keep thinking if I win enough cases, put enough criminals behind bars, I’ll forgive myself, but so far it hasn’t happened. Maybe it never will.”
Guilt stabbed at his gut yet again. “I shouldn’t have brought that up in the car. You were right. I acted like a jerk.”
A smile touched her lips. “Yes. You did.”
“Does it help to know I regret it?”
“Not much, but some.” Her fingers slid into his chest hair, her eyes dropping to her hand.
He pulled her close, hand on her firm backside. “You’re cutting me no slack, I see.”
“It was mean,” she said, her gaze lifting.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Are you? Or do you deep down despise me for what I was?”
Pulling her leg over his, he slid his now throbbing erection back between her legs. “Does that feel like I despise you?”
“Wanting to fuck me is no indicator.”
Her words, cold and bitter, caught him off guard. Before he could stop himself, he admitted what was better kept unspoken—since there could be no future for them. “There is more to what is going on with us than simply sex. And we both made assumptions about one another that weren’t exactly true.” His knuckles caressed her cheek, his voice tender. “You’re brave, sexy and, I am beginning to learn, way too hard on yourself.” He framed her face with his hand and gently met her lips with his. When he pulled back to look into her eyes, he saw that same vulnerability he’d seen while they were making love. If he didn’t get her to sleep soon, he was going to find his way back inside her again. “We should rest.”
She nodded. “Yes.”
He eased onto his back and took her with him, settling her head on his chest. She wrapped her leg around his, and the act warmed him inside out. Yes, this woman did things to him. He ran his hand down her back—this moment in time too perfect to explain. He stilled, savoring the feeling.
Far too soon, they’d have to face the hell of running for their lives again. So, for a short window of time, at least, he wanted to pretend his world wasn’t one big hole of darkness. And somehow, Nicole made that possible.
14
ON THE THIRD DAY of basically living in the same hotel room from sunup to sundown, Nicole blinked awake, giving the bedside clock a blurry-eyed glance. Eight in the morning. Only ten more days until they headed back to Austin for the postponed trial. Only. Right.
Weeks of her life wo
uld be lost before this ordeal was over. Not that she minded being with Constantine. He’d become quite a delicious distraction.
And speaking of her distraction… Beside her, Constantine stirred, pulling her into his arms. They rested, side by side, facing each other, heads on pillows. Feigning sleep, he kept his eyes shut, as if he had reached for her in slumber. But she knew better. She could feel his attentiveness.
Having spent every waking moment with him for these few days had taught her a lot about him. You could learn a lot about a person in those circumstances. Hours of doing nothing but making love and talking. Even watching the entire first season of 24 had unveiled little pieces of his life, telling her more than he probably even realized.
Thunder rumbled outside, reminding her of the hurricane, drawing her back into the present. She started to move, intending to find the remote and turn on the television, but she was stopped by Constantine, who shackled her legs and held her in place.
“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice rough from sleep, but his reflexes alert, telling her she was right about his feigning sleep. He was wide-awake and had been for a while. Of course, he was always on edge, ready for trouble. She took comfort in that. Then again, she hated it for him, and was coming to realize he had less peace in his life than she did, and she didn’t have much.
Recognizing this sent a wave of tenderness through her, and Nicole placed a quick kiss on Constantine’s forehead. “I’m trying to find the remote. There should be a solid storm path now.” He hesitated and then released her legs. Nicole smiled and climbed over him to reach for the remote on the bedside table, the covers falling away from her naked backside. As he caressed her ass with his palm, she laughed and eyed him over her shoulder. “You are such as ass man, I swear.”
“I worship all parts equally. I think I’ve proven that.”