Naked Edge

  She shivered again, the idea of him seeing her body in the light both startling and erotic, nervousness twining with anticipation in her belly. Barely able to breathe, she watched as he finished undressing her, removing first her bra, then her skirt, tights, and panties, leaving her completely naked. Without meaning to, she found herself pressing her thighs together and fighting the urge to reach down and cover herself.

  No man had ever seen her like this.

  He let out a gust of breath, his brows drawing together, his gaze moving over her from her breasts to the most private part of her like a caress, scorching her skin and making her nipples draw tight. "You are so beautiful. Jesus."

  With a moan, he lowered his mouth to her belly and scattered hot kisses over her skin, his lips and tongue seeming to leave a trail of fire as he slowly worked his way upward. Her breasts grew heavy, memories of how it had felt to have his mouth on her making her impatient. But when at last he reached her breasts, he didn't kiss her nipples as she'd thought he would. Instead he pressed first his lips and then his cheek against her heartbeat, as if the feel of it mattered to him, as if the fact that her heart was beating meant something to him, as if ...

  As if her being alive meant the world to him.

  Kat's throat grew tight, a feeling that could only be love--yes, love--swelling inside her, tears trickling down her temples. She was alive. Thanks to this strong, brave, beautiful man, they were both alive tonight. She swallowed the lump in her throat, kissed his damp hair, desire for him driving through her veins like a pulse.

  He raised his head, his gaze meeting hers, the intensity in his eyes making her breath catch and her belly fill with heat. "Kat."

  His lips came down on hers in a deep, slow kiss that made her feel like she was melting from the inside out, his tongue claiming her mouth with skilled strokes. One of his hands slid up her rib cage, his knuckles teasing the underside of one breast, before he took the weight of it in his hand, cupping and plumping it, his thumb making lazy circles over her puckered areola. Then with a hungry groan, he dragged his mouth from hers, lowered it to her nipple, and sucked.

  She gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders, pleasure surging through her in a liquid rush, making her inner muscles clench. "Gabe!"

  He moved from one breast to the other and back again, teasing her nipples, tugging on them with his lips, flicking his tongue over their sensitive tips, until she was out of breath, her body arching toward him, the ache inside her excruciating. Then he did something she never would have imagined.

  He took her right hand, drew it downward, and pressed it against her there, his hand holding hers in place. "Help me, Kat. Show me what you like."

  Gabe was so turned on that it took him a moment to realize that Kat's expression had changed from arousal to shock, a blush creeping slowly from her breasts to her cheeks. She tried to pull her hand away from him, as if he'd just touched it to a hot stove and not her own sweet muff. "I... I..."

  He gaped down at her and released her hand, so stunned that for a moment he couldn't speak. "Don't tell me you've never given yourself an orgasm."

  "Well, I..." Her blush deepened, a look of genuine shame on her face. "I grew up in a hogaan, and my grandmother is very traditional."

  He thought about that for a second, imagined sleeping in a single room with ten other people--one of them being a very strict grandma--and thought he could see why that might have been a problem. "What about during college?"

  She shook her head. "I had two roommates, and..."

  Gabe'd had one roommate, but by then he'd been getting enough tail that on the rare occasion when he needed to take matters into his own hands, he'd just marched his dick to the shower. "After college?"

  She looked away. "Well, I... I tried a few times, but... I guess I didn't really have the patience or know... what I was doing."

  Gabe felt an unexpected rush of tenderness at her embarrassment. "Well, honey, we'll just have to figure you out together, won't we?"

  Letting his fingers brush lightly through the dark curls of her muff, he ducked down and drew one ripe nipple into his mouth, wanting to carry her past her inhibitions to a place where arousal took over. It didn't take long--a few flicks of his tongue, a nip of his teeth, a slow tug with his lips. He felt her fingers clench in his hair, her hips shifting as she instinctively tried to find relief, her innate responsiveness turning him on in a way that other women's theatrical moaning never had.

  "God, Kat, I could kiss your breasts all night long. Mmm."

  He wasn't exaggerating. The taste of her skin, the beaded velvet of her nipples, the way her belly quivered when he sucked--she was driving him insane. His cock felt like it might bust through his jeans, lust throbbing in his groin, his blood burning. Needing more of her, he slid his hand between her thighs and cupped her, pressing the heel of his hand against her in slow, deep circles.

  She gasped, her hips giving an involuntary jerk, her thighs still doing the virgin clutch. Her hands left his hair, one gliding over his back, the nails of the other digging into his forearm. For a moment, he thought she would pull his hand away. Instead, she dug in--and held on.

  "Does that feel good?"

  Eyes closed, she answered on a breathy exhale. "Oh, yes!"

  "Good."

  He lost track of time after that, one minute stretching seamlessly into the next, nothing in his world but Kat. Her pleasure became his pleasure, every whimper, every shiver guiding him as he sought new ways to please her, his brain buzzing, strung out on her musky scent, the honey taste of her skin, the sight of her sweet body.

  And she opened for him like a flower. Her hips answered the motion of his hand with circles of their own, her thighs parting to give him better access. Attuned to her cues, he nudged one finger between her lips to tease her entrance, unable to stifle a groan when he discovered that she was slick, drenched, ready.

  She gave a little squeak, and her eyes flew open, her grip on his arm growing tighter. "Gabe, I don't--"

  "Let me make you come. Then I'll stop. I promise."

  For a moment she watched him, her pupils dilated, her breathing unsteady. "What if ... What if I can't?"

  "Are you kidding? As sensual and responsive as you are?" He gave her clit a little flick just to make the point and was immediately rewarded with a gasp and a jerk of her hips. "Just relax, honey."

  He ducked down and nibbled her throat, then rubbed her own wetness over her clit, felt her body tense. "Do you like that?"

  Kat answered with a little whimper, her eyes squeezed shut.

  Gabe found a rhythm, felt her swollen little nub grow harder, fuller. Soon her breath was coming in ragged pants. He could tell she was close, her face flushed, her breasts swollen, every muscle in her body taut. The tension inside her built until he thought she would break like glass. But something seemed to be holding her back, and he was pretty sure he knew what it was.

  "There's no one here but me, Kat. No one can hear you or see you but me." He ducked down again, brushed his lips over a wet and puckered nipple--and slowly slipped his finger into her slippery heat, careful not to break the fragile barrier of her virginity.

  "Oh, Gabe!" She called out his name, her nails digging sharply into his skin.

  She was tight, impossibly tight, her vagina so snug against his finger that he almost came in his jeans imaging how she would feel clenched around his cock. Slowly, carefully, he began to stroke her inside and out, her breathing frantic now, her body clearly on the naked edge.

  "It's okay to let yourself go, honey." He whispered reassurances to her, nibbled the skin of her throat, his heartbeat in sync with the wild pulse he felt beneath his lips, his hips moving of their own accord, rubbing his erection against her hip. "Let go, Kat!"

  Then her breath broke, and she came with a shuddering sigh, arching off his bed, her inner muscles contracting tightly against his finger, a look of bliss on her beautiful face. He rode through it with her, kept the pressure and rhythm steady, tr
ying to prolong her pleasure in every way he could, his mouth on her breasts, her throat, her lips, as the quaking inside her slowly subsided.

  How long they lay there in the quiet Gabe couldn't say. He held her, unable to take his gaze from her, as her breathing slowly returned to normal, her body now limp, a sheen of sweat on her flushed skin. Then she opened her eyes and shyly met his gaze, the emotion he saw there causing a warm tug in his chest.

  "Gabe." She ran her fingers over his lower lip, cupped his cheek, then drew him down, her lips meeting his in a soft kiss. "I... I don't know what I'm supposed to say."

  He ran his thumb over her cheek, the warmth in his chest growing until there was almost room for nothing else. "You don't have to say anything."

  "Is... Is that what it's always like?"

  He grinned, still stroking her cheek. "Yeah--except when it's even better."

  She looked at him for a moment as if she didn't believe him, and he felt a fleeting surge of masculine pride. Then she smiled, a soft, sated smile, her eyes slowly closing. In a matter of moments, she was sound asleep.

  IT WAS ONLY after Gabe had turned out the light, cocooned Kat in his arms, and drawn the covers over both of them that he realized he hadn't come. For the first time in three long years, he was sleeping with a woman, truly sleeping with a woman, and he hadn't even gotten inside her. But as he drifted off, it wasn't sexual frustration he was feeling, but contentment.

  "WHERE THE FUCK have you been? I've been calling all night!"

  "I've been busy."

  "I thought we agreed there would be no more violence!"

  "I thought we agreed that you'd get that bitch Katherine James off my ass! She was there sniffing around the trenches with Rossiter! What the fuck did you expect me to do?"

  "I don't know! I don't know! But trying to kill a reporter and an armed ranger wouldn't have been at the top of my list!"

  "I thought I could take them out and then bury the bodies on site."

  "Well, you missed! It's over now, you know. You can't go back there. You're done. It's time to cover our tracks and wait for this whole thing to blow over."

  "Do you really think it will blow over? When they discover what's buried there, certain plans of yours will go up in smoke. It will only be a matter of time before they put all the pieces together."

  "I've covered my trail. There won't be any pieces for them to put together."

  "What if you're wrong about that?"

  "Then you'd best improve your aim--or choose a different weapon."

  CHAPTER 14

  KAT ROLLED OVER and snuggled deeper into the warm, soft bed, still floating on the edge of sleep. It was a scent that woke her, catching her attention, slowly rousing her. His scent. Salt, spice, man.

  Gabe.

  Her pulse skipped. She opened her eyes to find the big bed empty, a hollow in the pillow where his head had rested. She reached over, ran her hand over the pillowcase, and found it cold, his body heat long since having dissipated. The distant thrum of bass told her he was somewhere in the house, probably getting ready for work. But Kat wasn't ready to face real life--not yet.

  She had slept with a man.

  No, she hadn't had sex with him, but she had slept with him. It was so new to her, so different, that even in her sleep, she'd been aware of him beside her, his arms around her naked body, his long legs tangled with hers. At one point during the night when a bad dream had awoken her--she couldn't remember what it had been about, but it had terrified her--he'd been there, drawing her closer, holding her tight, whispering to her in a deep, sleepy voice.

  Shhh, honey. It's okay. You're safe. I've got you.

  And her fear had left her. She'd slept dreamlessly after that, feeling more secure than she'd perhaps ever felt.

  She stretched beneath the warm blankets, feeling deliciously languid, the sheets soft against her bare skin. She let her thoughts drift, aware of her body, aware of every nerve, in a way she'd never been before, as if her memories from last night were imprinted not only in her mind but also on her skin, heart, and womb. She could recall every touch, every kiss, every stroke of his tongue and fingers, her body seeming to echo with sensation as she remembered.

  The tug of his lips on her nipples.

  Her breasts tingled, and her nipples tightened.

  The shock of feeling his finger inside her.

  Her inner muscles clenched.

  The shattering bliss of orgasm.

  Her belly fluttered.

  She'd understood the mechanics of sex since she was a teenager--Tab A into Slot B, and nine months later out comes a baby. She'd learned the rudiments of reproduction in high school and had read sex books in college, trying to fill in the gaps and assuage her curiosity. She'd heard Holly and her other I-Team friends talk about their sex lives. She'd even looked at photos of naked men and women in various Tantric poses.

  What she hadn't known--what no book and none of her friends had been able to tell her--was what an orgasm would do to her, how it would feel, how she would feel afterward.

  Don't tell me you've never given yourself an orgasm.

  Yes, she'd touched herself--more than a few times. But she hadn't been able to make herself climax, partly because she'd never taken more than a few minutes to experiment and partly because she hadn't been able to get away from the feeling that what she was doing was wrong. Her grandmother had been very traditional about such things, and although Kat tried to live as a modern woman, there were some parts of a person's upbringing that were harder to move beyond than others.

  Of course, she'd had a difficult time trying to explain that to Gabe. She'd been afraid that a man of his experience would find it laughable. But he hadn't.

  We'll just figure you out together.

  The memory of his words brought another flutter to her belly. Nothing in her life could compare to what she'd experienced with Gabe last night. Even as new to physical intimacy as she was, Kat knew he'd gone out of his way to make sure he pleased her. His awareness had seemed focused completely on her, as if nothing had existed for him beyond her, as if his sole purpose in that moment had been bringing her pleasure.

  Let me make you come. Then I'll stop. I promise.

  What if I can't?

  Are you kidding? As sensual and responsive as you are? Just relax, honey.

  He'd made her feel like she was burning up, his touch both the cause of her torment and her only hope for relief. She'd fought to stay in control, some part of her genuinely afraid of what might happen if she didn't. But Gabe had taken control away from her, never giving her a moment to catch her breath.

  Let go, Kat!

  His words had set her free--and the fire inside her had exploded. Waves of shimmering ecstasy had washed through her until it seemed that her body was made of light--weight--less, radiant.

  He'd done all of that for her without taking anything for himself.

  She had opened her eyes to find that she was still flesh and blood after all, Gabe looking down at her, an emotion in his eyes that she'd never seen before. If she hadn't already realized she was in love with him, that right there would have done it.

  She was in love with Gabe. She loved Gabe Rossiter. The thought left her feeling both euphoric and terrified. Falling in love with him was the last thing she'd expected. The two of them came from different worlds, different cultures, vastly different attitudes about love and sex.

  Still, she knew he at least cared about her. The mark of a bullet on his chest was proof of that--as was her presence in his bed. She hadn't had sex with him, yet he'd slept beside her all night. That had to mean something, didn't it?

  Kat wanted to believe it did, but she wasn't naive enough to think that her feelings for him could change his feelings for her.

  Is that the mistake her mother had made? Had her mother felt so worn down by her loveless marriage that she'd fallen for some charming Bilagaanaa stranger--and then let herself believe that her love for him would make him love her? How sad.


  The world Kat had been trying so hard to ignore came into sharp focus around her. She sat up, reached for the alarm clock on Gabe's nightstand, and turned it so that she could see the time. It was 7:15--later than she'd thought. She needed to take a shower, get dressed, and get to Denver by nine, or she'd miss the I-Team meeting.

  Conscious of the fact that she was still naked, she got out of bed and gathered her clothes, which lay on the floor where Gabe had tossed them. She slipped on her panties, then grabbed the T-shirt of his that she'd worn last night, pleased to find that it still smelled like him. She closed her eyes, inhaled his scent and let herself imagine for a moment that he was still in bed with her, still holding her.

  SUSPENDED FROM HIS hangboard by the tips of his chalked fingers, Gabe gutted it out, keeping his breathing slow and steady as he counted off the repetitions to the grinding beat of Metallica's "The Unforgiven II." He needed to drown out the sound of his own thoughts, to burn off his excess sexual energy. He had a date with his right hand later in the shower, but that wasn't going to be enough to get Kat out of his system.

  Ninety-seven. Ninety-eight. Ninety-nine.

  One-twenty-seven was his own personal best for fingertip pull-ups, and he wanted to break it today, if for no other reason than to drive her out of his mind. He didn't love her. Wouldn't love her. Couldn't love her.

  One hundred six. One hundred seven. One hundred eight.

  His forearms, shoulders, and lats burned, his muscles completely pumped, sweat dripping down his temples and chest. He ignored the pain, kept his gaze focused on the A-Basin poster on his wall. Steep slopes. Deep powder. Glades.

  One hundred ten. One hundred eleven. One hundred twelve.

  He'd warned himself not to get tangled up in her, but when he'd woken up this morning he was about as tangled up as a man could get, his arms around her, her face nestled against his chest, her scent all over him. His cock had been rock hard and ready, apparently oblivious to the fact that it was still imprisoned in his jeans, which he'd had the good sense not to remove last night.

  He'd watched her sleep, savoring the feel of her in his arms, relieved to see that her nightmares had gone, protectiveness mingling with some other emotion inside him. It was only after he'd realized what that emotion was that he'd begun to panic.