Heat of the Night

  Tugging at his towel, Connor let it drop to the floor.

  “Good grief,” she muttered. “You’re incredible.”

  With a gentle smile, he deliberately took her statement in a way it wasn’t intended. “Ah, but I haven’t even started yet.”

  The low, deep brogue wrapped around Stacey’s spine, then slid down in a heated glide.

  Infuriated with herself for being aroused, she stared at the tall, golden, gorgeous—impossibly gorgeous—naked man striding toward her. Unable to look away from the beautifully honed muscles drenched in tawny skin. Or the dark honey hair that hung over a strong brow. Or the Caribbean blue eyes that roamed her body from head to toe, the gaze hot and lustful but tender, too.

  His sinfully sensual mouth was framed by lines of tension and stress, a sight that tempted her to kiss his troubles away. Whatever they might be.

  As if it that was possible. Connor Bruce seemed to be an island unto himself. There was something inherently dangerous about him, something savage and untamed. He seemed…dark somehow, tormented. A feeling she understood because she presently felt that way herself. Barely leashed. Tense. She wanted to drive up to Big Bear and tell Justin and Tommy both that one fucking ski trip did not make Tommy Father of the Century.

  Frustrated with her inability to “get over it,” Stacey imprudently ogled Connor’s luscious cock instead. After all, he was waving it around…

  “It’s all yours,” he purred, coming at her with a devastating combination of determination and mouth-watering, finely honed abs. She looked up and saw challenge within the depths of his blue eyes. He knew she couldn’t help but look and covet what he offered so bluntly. “And you’re all mine.”

  God, how she wished she could laugh that off. Considering how long they’d known each other, that comment should have been funny as hell. But Connor was too primitive a male to dismiss when he became possessive. Just as she, apparently, was primitive enough to enjoy being dragged back to his cave by her hair.

  There was something very wrong with a man being that perfect. Six feet plus of pure, potent male. He was big, broad, and bad. Irresistibly bad. And unapologetic about it. She might have been able to resist if that were all he was. But he seemed vulnerable, too, in a way she couldn’t define. It called to her, though, whatever it was. Deeply. She found herself wanting to soothe him, embrace him, make him smile.

  Her gaze once again fell helplessly to the long, thick cock that led the way for him. That was perfect, too. She couldn’t find a damn thing wrong with his body and she was trying. Boy, was she trying. He was savagely beautiful and forbiddingly sexy, but she wasn’t giving in. No way. She was drooling over him, yes, but she was not going to repeat her past mistakes. She didn’t even know the guy, for chrissakes!

  “Does that Conan the Barbarian act work for you?” she asked with an arched brow, acting for all she was worth. “‘Cuz it sure as hell isn’t working for me.”

  His lips curved in a boyish smile. She was stunned by her reaction to it. It was the kind of charming curve that made one want to smile back.

  “Prove it.” His long, easy stride made her shiver. She gripped the seat behind her with such force she broke a nail and a small sound of dismay escaped her. It gave away too much, that soft breathy cry. She could tell it did, because his gaze heated and darkened, and his cock swelled even further. Her mouth dried at the sight.

  Lord have mercy. The thick length was lined with throbbing veins that forced her to bite back a moan of longing. Porn stars would pay for that cock. Shit, women paid for cocks such as his, molded in plastic with a speed control switch.

  “Are you double-dog daring me?” she muttered, her gaze riveted by the sheer predatory grace of his movements. She wondered how he moved while fucking and the thought made her damp between the legs.

  She was lonely, tired, frustrated by the hand life had dealt her, and pissed off enough to want to shed her unappreciated-mommy role for an hour or two. Get over it? Sure. What better way to get over it than to get under a man like Connor Bruce?

  “Let me hold you,” he murmured, his accent a gentle enticement.

  Stacey didn’t move. She couldn’t.

  As he came closer, she held her breath, knowing that her resistance to his very attractive but impractical offer would weaken if she smelled him. The scent of his skin was unique. A bit spicy, a bit musky. One hundred percent male. Pure Connor. Inhaling would sharpen the images already in her mind of him suspended above her, his arms bulging as he held his weight aloft, his abdominal muscles lacing tight as he pumped his thick cock in and out of her, his gorgeous features taut with lust.

  The way he looked right now.

  Panicked at her craving, Stacey shook her head violently and jumped quickly to the side, hoping to skirt the dining table and…hoping he’d chase her.

  Which he did.

  Connor lunged and caught her easily, his steely arm banding around her waist and hauling her back against him. The confinement awakened the full force of her desire, making her soften and grow slick with anticipation.

  “Let me, Stacey.” The tone of his voice changed, became urgent and thick with need. “I need you. You need me. Let it happen.”

  The fierceness of his desire was evident in every line of his big body. It was tangible and very, very tempting.

  It was also insane.

  “Damn it!” she snapped, struggling because it turned her on more to do so, not because she had any expectation of getting away. “You can’t just haul me off to bed!”

  “You’re right. I won’t make it that far. Right here will have to do.”

  “Here?” she croaked. “This is nuts! We don’t even know each other!”

  He tightened his embrace and nuzzled against her sweetly, his tongue gliding across the fluttering pulse at her throat. It made her dizzy to be held by him, surrounded by his scent and his attention to detail. She had no doubt that Connor would find every erogenous zone on her body. She also had no doubt that she wanted him to. God, it had been so long since she’d had great sex with someone who was focused on pleasuring her. Someone who seemed to need to pleasure her.

  “You’re thinking too much,” he whispered with his lips to her ear. He reached up and cupped her unfettered breast. His palm was warm, his squeeze firm but gentle. His thumb and forefinger pinched her nipple, rolled it, tugged it. She writhed as the sensation shot straight to her sex and tingled madly. A rough sound rumbled up from his chest.

  The urge to close her eyes and melt into him was strong. “People don’t just hop into bed with strangers because they had a shitty day.”

  “Why not? Why deny yourself something you want?”

  “It’s called maturity.” She changed tactics and hung like a deadweight in his arms. He didn’t appear to notice. The man was brawny enough to carry an elephant.

  “Sounds like self-torture to me.”

  “I suppose you just barrel through life thinking you can do whatever you damn well please because you’re hot.”

  He pressed a hard, quick kiss to her temple and used both hands to knead her breasts. “You’re hot and you don’t do what you want.”

  Stacey snorted. “Compliments will not get you into my pants.”

  Connor reached up and cupped her cheek, angling her mouth to meet his. “No,” he whispered against her lips, “but this will.”

  He yanked open her button fly, then shoved his hand into her jeans.

  “No…”

  His tongue thrust deep into her mouth, stemming her protest. He cupped her through her lace thong. “Yes,” he purred, rubbing her swollen, needy pussy with skillful fingers, “you’re wet, sweetheart.”

  She whimpered as he pushed the intruding material out of the way and touched her skin-to-skin.

  “Tell me you want me,” he rasped, the callused tip of his index finger sliding between her folds and stroking over her engorged clit. Back and forth. Caressing, circling.

  The tension was intense, her breath panting,
her legs straining.

  “Oh! I’m going to come…Oh god…” Jesus, she’d gone so long without she was hair-trigger ready.

  “Tell me you want me,” he repeated.

  Her hips swiveled and rocked into that maddening finger. “Does it matter?” she gasped, bucking like a wild thing within the cage of his powerful arms.

  “Yes.” His teeth sank into the taut muscle at her neck and she cried out in surprise. “It does. I want you. I want you to want me back.”

  Two long, thick fingers were pushing into her and she spasmed on the verge of climax. Her eyes closed and her head fell back against his chest. She was shivering violently, overwhelmed, teary. Her entire day had been an emotional overload and now he’d added lust and desire to the mix.

  “Yes…” she sobbed, her nails digging into the forearm crossing between her breasts. It felt so good to be held and embraced. Wanted.

  “Push your jeans down.”

  Stacey grabbed her waistband and shimmied her pants down to her knees, blinking back hot tears. Straightening, she reached for her purse on the granite-topped breakfast bar and pulled out the string of condoms she’d picked up a week ago. They were Magnum XL, a joke she thought would add levity to her upcoming “birds and the bees” talk. Now, she hoped they weren’t too small. Connor was hung, a circumstance that only made her wetter, less resistant. My god…he was going to be in her…soon…

  He thrust one foot between her legs and stepped down, shoving her pants down to the floor. Her butt bumped against his steely erection and his breath hissed between his teeth. His grip on her torso tightened. Her heart leapt with a flare of fright. He was a huge man and he seemed barely in control.

  “Shh,” he crooned, releasing her only long enough to put his hand beneath her shirt. With his hand over her racing heart, he paused, his chest heaving against her back. His face was damp and feverishly hot, and he pressed his cheek to hers roughly. “This isn’t me. I’m not like this. I’m pushing you too fast—”

  “I’m not like this either,” she whispered, setting her hand over his through her tank top and moving it down to her breast. Her fingers rested atop his and squeezed, urging him to fondle the heavy, aching weight of her flesh. “And you’re not going fast enough.”

  “I’m going to fuck you. I can’t help it.” His brogue was so thick she could hardly understand him. “Hard and fast. Then we’ll start over. I’ll make it good for you. Do it right.”

  Shaking her head, Stacey leaned forward, offering the most private part of her body to him. “Just do it. Right or wrong.”

  Connor rumbled something, then he tore open the box of condoms and broke into a foil packet. She forced herself to breathe in and out carefully, willing her brain to feel less dizzy, telling herself that this was a one-night stand, not a goddamn relationship. He didn’t have to be “permanent” material; he just had to carry the right equipment and show her some consideration.

  The man was best friends with Aidan, who was a great guy. That didn’t make Connor a great guy, but it did make him slightly better than a complete stranger. And they were adults. They could indulge in a little gratuitous sex and still be civil. She wasn’t repeating past mistakes, because she had no expectations that this would go beyond an orgasm. Right? Right?

  Stacey had almost convinced herself that this encounter was only slightly more involved that using a vibrator when Connor grasped her thighs and lifted her effortlessly, stealing her balance in more ways than one. With a startled cry, she clung to the barstool and felt the world tilt.

  Then he was there, the fat tip of him notching into the slick, slitted entrance to her pussy. She moaned as he nudged and he made a soothing sound that might have calmed her if she weren’t out of her mind with lust and a hundred other emotions.

  “Relax,” he urged hoarsely. “Let me in. I’ve got you.”

  Panting, she willed herself limp, afraid that she would be too heavy and startled to realize that he held her aloft easily. He eased in an inch and she felt every groove and vein of him because she hugged him so tightly.

  “Oh!”

  “Touch yourself.” Connor shuddered as he fed more of his thick cock into her. “Get yourself off. You’re so tight…”

  Stacey clung to the seat with one arm, while reaching a hand between her legs to rub. She was stretched wide and tight to accommodate him, which exposed her clit even further from its hood. She was swollen, hot, slick; more aroused than she’d ever remembered being. He sank deeper, pushing with shallow, rapid digs that made her mewl and beg. Her pussy fluttered around his cock and he groaned, his fingertips digging into the flesh of her thighs.

  “That’s it, baby,” he whispered hoarsely. “Suck me in. Take all of me.”

  With a relieved cry, she climaxed hard, her fingers rubbing, her cunt flooding with moisture, easing his way. He thrust hard and hilted with a grunt. In a distant part of her brain Stacey heard the phone ringing, but it didn’t mean anything and a moment later all she could hear was the deafening rush of blood in her ears.

  “Hang on,” he ordered. He began to pound her pussy in a savage rhythm, pumping high and hard, his powerful thighs flexing between hers. Her eyes closed and her cheek rested against the hard wooden seat, sliding back and forth in her own sweat, her body on fire because his was. His cock was like a burning brand inside her. She was hot, but he was hotter.

  Unbelievably, the tension coiled tight again, building…growing…. His heavy balls smacked repeatedly against her tender clit, the sound so erotic she shivered with renewed arousal. The rim of his cockhead grazed a tender spot inside her and she was instantly on the edge.

  “Oh god,” she whimpered, “I’m coming again.”

  He spread her legs wide and struck deep, expertly stroking across that magic place inside her that caused her to wail in mindless pleasure. His satisfaction was tangible as she arched taut beneath his relentless drives.

  For all his warnings of haste, he seemed in no hurry to come now that he was in her. Unable to bear anymore and slightly afraid of what would happen to her if she climaxed that hard again, Stacey reached between her legs and touched his swinging balls.

  Connor cursed and swelled, stuffing her full. “I’m not going to last…”

  Tightening down, she hugged him with her inner muscles. He jerked violently and with a guttural shout began to come. His cock strained and bucked with the force of his ejaculations in a brutal, wrenching orgasm. He lowered, taking her with him. First to his knees, then to his back, his sweat soaking her tank. His brawny arms circled around her. All the way to the floor.

  Where he held her with his lips to her temple, still coming…

  Chapter 5

  “Hi! You’ve reached Dr. Lyssa Bates and Aidan Cross. We’re sorry we’re not available to answer your call right now. If this is an emergency…”

  Aidan hung up the phone with a muttered curse and flopped back onto the bed.

  Lyssa pushed up onto one elbow and stared down at him with her big dark eyes. “No answer?”

  He shook his head.

  “Maybe Connor is still sleeping and Stacey ran out for a bite,” she suggested.

  “Maybe. We’ll have to try again later on the cell phone when we cross back over into San Ysidro.”

  He watched the pendant he had given her for protection swing gently between her full breasts. When they’d first met, she had been plagued by restless sleep, a result of her uncanny ability to block both Guardians and Nightmares from her dreams. Now she was a vision, her pale skin kissed by the sun, her eyes no longer marred by shadows, her lush figure filled out and not so lean. But as wonderful as the package was, it was the contents he loved—her kindness and compassion, her deep love for him, and her desire for his happiness.

  “Are you sure it was a Guardian you saw earlier?” she asked for the hundredth time, her hand caressing the hard ripples of his naked abdomen.

  “Pretty damn sure. Either that or an Elder. We’ll know for certain when we head
back over there and I search her room.”

  Lyssa’s wince caused him to cup the back of her head and pull her down for a quick, hard kiss to her forehead.

  “Trust me,” he urged.

  “I do. You know I do.” She sighed, her thick lashes lowering to hide her thoughts. “That doesn’t mean I’m not going to freak out when you put yourself in danger. The thought of you hurt terrifies me.”

  “I know how you feel, Hot Stuff, because I feel the same way about you. That’s why we have to follow through. If we’re being hunted, I have to know.” Aidan lifted his hand and rubbed a lock of her hair between his fingertips. “We need to know if she’s after you, or the taza. Or both. Shit, maybe she’s here for something we don’t know about yet.”

  Lyssa sat up and arranged herself against the headboard. She sighed, the sound blending with the waves that crashed on the beach outside their balcony. “Being the Key sucks.”

  He hummed a soothing sound. “I’m sorry, baby.”

  There was nothing more he could say and they both knew it.

  “It’s worth it to be with you.” Her sweet voice was low and fervent.

  He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the knuckles. “Want one last beer before we check out?”

  Her smile affected him deeply, tempting him to stay in bed longer when they really had to be going. Aidan sat up and left the bed before his heart overruled his brain, something it did often because he loved Lyssa so much. It drove him crazy that he couldn’t shake the feeling that their time together was limited, that there was an hourglass somewhere draining the sands of time. For an immortal, that was saying something. And what it was saying wasn’t good.

  “You’re always taking care of me,” she murmured. “Looking after me, supporting me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “You’ll never find out, Hot Stuff.”