Page 23 of Stolen Seduction


  “Hailey?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You’re my favorite flavor.”

  “Oh…”

  He’d been hesitant. These last few days he’d tried to keep his distance. But she’d made the first move tonight, broken through every one of his walls until all he could see and feel was her. And now there was absolutely no turning back.

  “I want you,” he whispered, walking her backward toward the bed as he licked and nipped at her neck.

  “Mm…”

  “I want you in every position I’ve imagined. On your back, on your knees, on that damn airplane of yours.”

  She shuddered when his lips found an especially sensitive spot. “On my plane? I like the sound of that…”

  He bit her earlobe gently until she moaned. “I want you calling my name.”

  The back of her legs hit the mattress. “Oh, yes, Max—”

  “No.” When she tried to cut off his words with her mouth, he pulled her arms from around his neck, pinned them to her back to get her attention and said, “My first name, Hailey. Like you did in the Bahamas when I got shot. Like you did when that damn alligator bit me in the Everglades.”

  Even before she opened her mouth, he knew what was going to come out. “I thought you might be dying both of those times. You look pretty healthy to me right now, Maxwell.”

  He felt like he might just die. If she didn’t give him what he needed.

  “Shane,” he corrected.

  Her blue eyes sharpened, and she smiled a slow and sexy little grin full of sass and challenge that supercharged his blood, and told him, oh, yeah, their little power struggle was alive and kicking. “Maxwell.”

  He flipped her around so fast she gasped. Her back was pressed tight to his chest and her cute little ass was grinding into his hips. Then he locked her arms around her front with one of his so she couldn’t move, used his other hand to tip her head to the side and ran his tongue down the column of her neck until she quivered. “In a matter of minutes you’ll be screaming my first name.”

  “Don’t be so cocky,” she said in a breathy tone he absolutely loved.

  He rubbed against her backside. “I can’t help it. It’s what you do to me.”

  “Oh…do that again.”

  He nipped the juncture of her neck and shoulder, ran his tongue over the spot and sucked until she groaned. Then pushed her to her stomach on the mattress.

  She went down easily, no fight, no resistance. Kneeling on the bed, he wrapped one arm around her waist and lifted, repositioning her higher into the pillow and using the opportunity to peek at the color she wore beneath her Bon Jovi tee.

  Black. Satin and lace. His mouth watered at the thought of ripping the flimsy panties off with his teeth. He flipped her T-shirt up her back as he lifted her hips and pressed his lips along the base of her spine.

  “Maxwell—” She came up to her hands, peered back at him over her shoulder.

  As he trailed kisses along her back, he pushed his hand inside her shirt, around her torso and underneath to grasp one full, luscious, bare breast in his big palm.

  Whatever protest she’d been about to make died on her lips. She moaned, pushing into him and arching her back.

  His blood pounded. His cock strained to be set free. He trailed his lips up her spine until the T-shirt was around her shoulders and he could pull it free from her body. He dropped it on the floor, leaned over and kissed her shoulders, her neck, the mole just under her right shoulder blade. Then reached around to caress her breasts and draw her nipples into tight, stiff peaks against his fingers.

  “Maxwell…” She pushed back into his hips, her body making him harder, her words that much more determined.

  “Do you want more?”

  “Yes…”

  He brushed her hair over her shoulder and kissed her jaw. “Say, ‘Yes, Shane, I want more.’”

  She smiled, arched into him again. “Mmm…Yes, I want more.”

  God, she was stubborn. And he couldn’t help it. He smiled. Because for the life of him, he couldn’t remember another woman who left him more frustrated, more needy, more challenged and turned on than she did. “Officer Roarke, you are really asking for it.”

  Her squeal when he threw her onto her back was half laugh, half shock, but her moan when he pressed her into the mattress and kissed her hard was pure approval. Her hands ran to the hem of his shirt, up under until it was yanked from his body and they were skin to skin, her mouth taking him on a journey of a thousand senses.

  He pulled back before she could seduce him into forgetting his goal, kissed his way down her neck to her succulent breasts. They were perfect in his hands, soft and silky, the tips like little pink erasers when he brushed his fingertips over them. And in his mouth? Heaven.

  She groaned, arched up, dug her fingernails into his scalp until a lick of pain shot though his skin. But he didn’t stop. He drew her deep into his mouth, first one breast, then the other, traced her nipples with his tongue as his hand slid south and her legs opened to make room for him.

  “Oh, God, Maxwell…”

  He worked his way down, over her toned abs, across the flat expanse of her belly, to the edge of her silky black panties. His tongue traced the edge. She shuddered. He lifted his head to peer up her body to her arousal-flushed face. “Are you ready to give in yet?”

  A wan smile flitted across her features. She didn’t open her eyes, though, not even when she reached for his hand on her belly and pulled it back to her breast. “Not even close.”

  “I thought you’d say that.”

  He gripped her panties with his teeth and stripped them from her luscious legs. And when her eyes flew open and she gasped, pushing up on her elbows to look down at him, he smiled.

  He had a raging hard-on. And seeing her there like that, naked and laid out for him like an offering, all he wanted to do was strip off his jeans and bury himself inside her.

  Instead he dropped to his knees, grabbed her thighs and pulled until her calves were hanging off the bed and his mouth was brushing dangerous kisses against her inner thigh.

  She drew in a breath. Swallowed—hard—while he drew closer to her sweetest spot. And watched him with lust-glazed eyes.

  He licked the juncture of her hip. Her head fell back and her eyes slid closed. He breathed hot over her mound—careful never to make contact—until she groaned, opened wider and lifted her hips, searching.

  “Ready?”

  “Please…” She thrust up again.

  “Please, Shane,” he corrected, running one hand up her neglected leg, while the other found her breast and squeezed.

  “Oh…”

  Her back arched. He licked the opposite hip juncture. Trailed his tongue lower. Bit just hard enough to make her tremble.

  “Dammit, stop teasing me, Shane. I need you right now.”

  He didn’t hesitate, dove in with one long, lingering lick, split her thighs with his hands and circled and swirled until she came in his mouth.

  He might have been able to hold off, could have slowed things down now that he’d gotten what he’d wanted, but when he heard her screaming his first name as her climax peaked, every rational plan about being a slow and easy lover went sailing out the window.

  His mouth found her belly, her breasts, her neck, her mouth. She didn’t hesitate, pushed her tongue inside and kissed him crazy while her hands wrestled with his pants and finally set him free. Somehow he found the presence of mind to pull a condom from his wallet—condoms he’d bought that morning in the Keys, just in case—eased back on his knees and nearly lost it when she sat up, ripped the foil open and rolled it down his length.

  Her hand squeezed, stroked, drove him wild. Her eyes held his until he was afraid he’d come just from that minor touch. But it was her words that did him in. “Yes, Shane,” she whispered. “I want more.”

  He hooked one arm around her thigh and lifted, shifting his knee under her slightly so he could thrust inside her on a long groan.
The angle arched her back, pushed the tips of her breasts higher. He leaned forward and drew one deep into his mouth and felt her whole body shudder.

  “Oh, Shane…”

  That did it. Feeling her tighten around him with her release as she called his name was all he could take. He shifted, captured her mouth with his and finally let go.

  Hailey came awake with a start. She’d been dozing, snuggled next to Shane in his bed, warm and sated and…safe.

  She eased up on her elbow, looked down at him. He was really something. Her sex clenched at just the thought of what he’d done to her earlier, and a smile played across her face. Making love with him had been so much hotter and exciting than she’d expected. She’d loved what he’d done to her. Loved their wrangling and the fact he knew what he wanted and didn’t back down. Loved even more that, though it was obvious he’d been fighting his attraction for her all this time, when it came down to it, he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. The fact he’d taken her father’s dagger proved that tenfold. Honestly, she just loved…him.

  Her heartbeat quickened as the knowledge set in. She loved him. Even with his frustrating moods and confusing angles and dark secrets she wasn’t sure she wanted to know about. She just…loved him. The thought created a sweet ache she didn’t want to get rid of.

  She ran her hand over his skin, needing to touch him. He moaned in his sleep, tilted his head her way, and she smiled at the approval as her finger circled his belly button, then up to the edge of his ribs. And that’s when she saw the scar. Up high on the left side. A three-inch jagged pucker of skin she hadn’t noticed during their earlier power struggle. She gently brushed the uneven ridge.

  His eyes flew open, and his hand clasped around her wrist with such force, she gasped. She didn’t have time to get one word out before he flipped her to her back and wrapped his other hand around her neck so tight it closed her windpipe.

  She choked, gasped, kicked as her hands flew to her neck to pry his fingers loose. His eyes were black as night and glazed over, but even through the blur of tears and darkness circling in, she saw the malevolence.

  “Shane…” she rasped.

  A microsecond passed, though it felt like a year. His eyes cleared, focused on her face, ran down to his hand, clamped around her neck. Then he instantly let go.

  “Oh, God, Hailey. Oh, shit. Are you okay? Oh…fuck.”

  She rolled to her side, coughed, drew ragged breaths to ease the burn. The mattress dipped. Seconds later he was back with a glass of water and a cold, damp rag, which he laid gently across her neck. “Jesus, Hailey. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Sit up and drink some water. The cold will help so it doesn’t bruise. Just let me massage it—”

  She pushed his hand away. “Stop.”

  He let go immediately. Stepped back until his legs hit the plush chair near the wall and seemed to go out beneath him.

  She wasn’t hurt. Not really. He’d scared her more than anything, and as she lay on her side and watched him lean forward on his knees and rest his head in his hands, she knew he was suffering way more than she was.

  What had happened to him? She remembered the way he’d reacted that night in his apartment when he’d been kissing her. He’d pulled back then, fallen against the arm of the couch much like he had just now. And then it had happened just after she’d touched that scar on his side, too.

  She’d always sensed a dangerous element in him, something lurking right beneath the surface, but she hadn’t seen it until tonight. She only knew one thing for certain. What had just happened had been a reflex. He would never do anything to harm her intentionally.

  He didn’t hear her climb off the bed or cross the floor. He was obviously too wrapped up in his own guilt. It wasn’t until she rested her hands on his knees and lowered to the floor in front of him that his head lifted and surprised, sad eyes locked on hers.

  Oh, she was right. Not in a million years would he ever hurt her.

  “I’m sorry. God, Hailey, I—”

  She pushed against his shoulder. He fell back easily, no resistance, no worry that she was going to retaliate. Her eyes ran over his naked body, to the scar on his side, to the one on his shoulder where he’d taken a bullet only a few months before. Without a word she leaned forward and pressed her lips to the scar on his shoulder.

  “No, don’t. Ah, God…”

  His fingers dug into the padded armrest. His entire body stiffened. But he didn’t push her away. Didn’t stop her from doing whatever she wanted to him.

  She kissed. Licked. Laved her tongue over the scar until his breathing went ragged. Then trailed her lips down his chest. To his nipples, now hard and standing at attention, lower still to trace his pecs and the tiny indentation of his sternum.

  His teeth ground together as her mouth moved to his left side, across his ribs. She felt his legs tense against her, but he didn’t squeeze, didn’t do anything to stop her from reaching the spot he knew she was heading to.

  She kissed all around the puckered scar on his side, knew from his rigid muscles and rapid breaths he was digging his toes into the carpet and his fingers into the chair’s plush fabric. Chancing one look up, she saw his eyes tightly shut and his jaw so hard she knew this was the root of everything between them. Why he continually pulled back, why he had the overwhelming need to protect her, why his job was his life and why he wouldn’t walk away from a career that was making him miserable.

  Her lips brushed the scar gently, just a whisper. Once. Twice. Just until he got used to it and his muscles relaxed slightly. Then again. And again. She ran her tongue down the line. Licked and kissed. And when he finally gave in and relaxed, she moved away, back across his abs and lower still.

  “No, don’t do that. I—”

  She didn’t listen. Took him deep in her mouth until his words were cut off on a groan. He swelled beneath her tongue, and while she loved him, she ran her fingers back up to the scar on his side, felt him shudder at the touch and grow even harder in her mouth.

  She wanted him to remember this. To take whatever bad memory touching that scar brought out and replace it with this. With her.

  “Hailey. Ah, God…stop…”

  She finally let go. Climbed over him. Straddled his hips and lowered to take him in before his eyes even opened.

  His hands slid to her hips, but he didn’t move. The guilt etched deeply into the lines of his face nearly broke her heart.

  She gripped the back of the chair and tightened around him. His breath caught, and slowly his eyes drifted to hers. “Make love with me, Shane. Right here. Right now. No more ghosts in the room with us.” She lowered her mouth to his and felt her heart expand in her chest when he lifted his lips to hers. “I just want you.”

  “Hailey—”

  “I know,” she whispered. “Just let it go and love me.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Hailey stood under the shower spray until her skin wrinkled. As she thought about the night before, her heart bumped and a slow ache for what Shane had been through filled her chest.

  She’d climbed out of bed as quietly as she could just after eight A.M., leaving him sleeping like a rock on his side. She was tired, but he’d looked emotionally wrung out, so she’d wanted to give him as much rest as possible. They’d made it back to bed sometime just before dawn, where he’d loved her so thoroughly every cell in her body was still supercharged, even hours later.

  A smile pulled at one side of her mouth as she thought about the varied sides of him. Controlling one minute, playful the next, challenging, then serious and so damn sexy, he took her breath away.

  She sighed, rinsed the rest of the soap away. Knowing she needed to quit daydreaming if they were ever going to get out of here, she flipped off the shower and jerked the curtain back. Only to scream when she saw the body standing on the other side of the tub.

  She pressed a hand against her heart and covered her horror-movie-heroine fright with a nervous chuckle. “Shane. God. You scared me.”

/>   “Sorry.” He held up the towel in his hands as she stepped out, then wrapped it around her dripping body.

  “Did the shower wake you?” She eased in to kiss him, then took the hand towel he offered for her hair.

  “No.”

  Leaning to the side to wring the water from her locks, she studied him. He was wearing nothing but the same worn jeans he’d had on yesterday. His chest was bare, that stubble on his jaw thicker, darker, his eyes as intense as she’d ever seen them. But the hard set of his mouth told her he was still upset over what had happened last night.

  Okay, she wouldn’t push him. She reached for the moisturizer she’d left sitting on the counter by the sink, determined to make this light and normal. They hadn’t had any normal in their relationship yet, and they could both use it. “Good. I want to get going as early as we can. Hopefully Billy and Nicole are already up. I called Steve. He’s on his way to the airport now to get the jet ready.”

  “Listen, Hailey. About last night. I…”

  She caught his guilt-ridden expression in the mirror over the sink and longed to see that cocky smile of his instead. “If this is where you thank me for the best sex of your life, I’ll save you the trouble and just say simply, you’re welcome.”

  He frowned instead of smiled. “That’s not what I was talking about. I meant, the second time we…I…” He ran a hand through his hair. “Shit. I didn’t use a condom.”

  Okay, of all the things she’d expected him to be concerned about, that wasn’t it. She turned slowly to face him.

  “I take full responsibility, and I should have been way more careful with you. But I didn’t expect…” He rubbed a hand down his face, looked everywhere but at her. “You surprised me, and I should have stopped but…yeah. You know, I’m just making this worse.” He blew out a breath. “I don’t want kids.”

  Her mouth fell open, then snapped closed. “Ever?”

  His eyes finally met hers. “Never.”

  Something inside her heart pinched. Though she wasn’t ready for kids now by any means, she always envisioned herself with one or two down the line. She’d even gone so far as to consider the possibility of doing it on her own if she never got married again, although she hoped it didn’t come to that. The knowledge that he didn’t want kids…ever? For some reason that made her feel nothing but…loss.