04 A Killing Touch (25 page)

Her arousal rose again. Her belly knotted.

“I always remember you’re sexy, but still seem to forget just
how
sexy.”

“Uh-huh.” She closed her eyes and delighted in the pleasure he awakened.

He slid his fingers over her ass and down the backs of her legs. His fingers danced at her knees, weakening her ability to stand without shaking. A warm breath she didn’t expect heated her sex. She cried out when a pulse later he used his teeth to pull her soaked thong away from her body.

Her hips bucked. His touch had her vowing to wear skirts much more often.

His mouth was only gone long enough to strip the barrier away. When he returned, he swept away the evidence of her arousal. The single swipe that barely touched her clit stroked deep inside and had her ready to orgasm.

She fought the desire, wanting him inside her when she went over the edge.

He clearly had other ideas. He licked, nipped, swiped and teased her clit until her legs shook so hard he had to use his hands to hold her steady. Still she resisted, which only seemed to make him more determined to carry her to orgasm.

She resisted his teasing. Her resistance teased him. Teasing and resisting. Resisting and teasing. It was a game they’d never played, and it was one she delighted in. His playful side made an appearance. His caresses became more intimate, or maybe it was just that her body became more and more aware.

Aidan pulled back. Lana cried out and popped her hips back, trying to follow him. His mouth wasn’t there, and she missed it. She wanted his mouth on her pussy and his hands on her breasts.

A brush of air on her ass was barely a warning. His teeth nipped into her ass cheek and then he proceeded to nibble his way up to her hip. Then he paid the other cheek the same attention. He gave “kiss my ass” a whole new meaning.

Every muscle in her arms and shoulders, her legs and back, burned. Lana curved her back, unwilling to change her position and miss out on whatever pleasure he had in mind next. Then he was standing behind her with his hands at her hips for support.

He leaned down and kissed the tender spot just behind her ear. “You’re mine, Lana.”

“Okay.” She probably could have argued his ownership claims if her brain wasn’t shutting down. The only thing she could process clearly was the desperate desire to have him thrust home and bury himself inside.

Her pussy trembled. As if he heard the pulsing plea, he gripped her hips tighter and thrust. Proving how well they suited each other, he slipped directly home.

In all her years of having sex she’d never given a partner as much control as she was turning over to Aidan. She always demanded that she be an equal partner and she was always equally naked. She’d struggled with his inability to trust her, but only now realized she herself had trust issues. Except with Aidan.

A wash of excitement swarmed her. The tingles covering her skin rushed faster. The scent of their arousal hitting the air with the soft slapping of their bodies as Aidan thrust and withdrew, thrust and withdrew, heightened her yearning.

Her tensed muscles trembled and with the flood of her orgasm they released their tension until she felt soft and pliant.

She was vaguely aware of Aidan lifting her off her feet and carrying her to her room where he undressed her and eased her onto the bed before going to the bathroom. Her head was still buzzing when he returned with a damp washcloth to clean her up. It was another intimacy she’d never allowed a man, but again it seemed so natural with Aidan.

She was more gone than she’d thought, but until he was ready to accept her feelings she would keep the depth of them to herself. Instead, she settled for curling into him when he got into bed behind her.

Darkness was settling when she finally broke the silence. “Aidan.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for the cameras. For not asking me to change.”

He kissed her neck and lingered long enough that she felt his lips curl into a smile. “You’re welcome.”

“Are you really okay with who and what I am?” She should just let their issues vanish if he was willing, but a perverse part of her wanted to know that they wouldn’t be rising back up to bite her when she dropped her guard all the way.

Aidan pulled away and sat up. Lana did the same so they were both braced against the headboard and facing each other. She had an instinct to cover herself with a sheet, but didn’t want even that barrier between them.

“I can’t say that I like how involved you get in your stories. How they have a tendency to put you in danger.”

She bit back the argument that tapped its way to the tip of her tongue.

“I’m the same way with my work, so I understand your drive,” he continued. “We’ll always argue and we’ll say hurtful things we don’t mean.” He fiddled with her hair and sighed so deep his chest shook. “I also know that I feel like I’ve been in the wrong place, just trying to make it right.”

“Me too.”

“You’ve changed that, Lana. With you at my side, I think I’m finally in the right place at the right time with the right person.”

His weighty words whispered with unspoken meaning. Her heart bounced with eagerness. She wanted to tell him she felt exactly the same way, but until he said everything he had to say she was afraid to reveal too much.

“I didn’t say it before, because I was still trying to deny it.”

“Deny what?” She knew the answer she wanted to hear. She just didn’t know what it would mean if he said something different.

“I love you, Lana.” He kissed her nose. “From the tiny freckle in the crease of your nose to your perfectly painted toes and every vibrant inch in between.” Brief and tender, he kissed her lips. “Your spirit, your drive.”

The hope she’d been holding back burst forth. Tears streaked down her cheek as he granted her wishes more with every word he spoke.

“I love you,” he said again. Smiling, he wiped a tear from her cheek. “And I trust you with my secrets, because I trust that you’re the only person strong enough to protect them.”

“I love you too, Aidan. And I trust you.”

About the Author

Heart-stopping puppy chases, childhood melodrama and the aborted hangings of innocent toys are all in a day’s work for Nikki Duncan. This athletic equestrian turned reluctant homemaker turned daring author is drawn to the siren song of a fresh storyline.

Nikki plots murder and mayhem over breakfast, scandalous exposés at lunch and the sensual turn of phrase after dinner. Nevertheless, it is the pleasurable excitement and anticipation of unraveling her character’s motivation that drives her to write long past the witching hour.

Whether it’s romantic suspense or contemporary romance with a focus on the lovers, the only anxiety and apprehension haunting this author comes from pondering the mysterious outcome of her latest twist.

Learn more about Nikki by visiting her website at
www.NikkiDuncan.com
. Nikki is also on Facebook and Twitter at /NDuncanWriter

Look for these titles by Nikki Duncan

Now Available:

Sensory Ops

Sounds to Die By

Scent of Persuasion

Illicit Intuitions

A Killing Touch

Tulle and Tulips

Tangled in Tulle

Twisted in Tulips

Whispering Cove

Wicked

Burned

Her Miracle Man

Coming Soon:

Tulle and Tulips

Handcuffed in Housewares

Fate has a way of rearranging everything…

Twisted in Tulips

© 2012 Nikki Duncan

Tulle and Tulips, Book 2

After months of just getting by on military disability pay, Jace Nichols is going for his dream job in Miami. Until he stops to rescue a woman under attack. Thanks to his deeply ingrained sense of duty, he misses his one-shot-only interview—for a woman who seems more grateful he saved her way-too-sexy shoes than her life.

No one knows better than Misty Morgan that everyone is fighting some kind of battle. Hers is against her snobby family, who look down on her chosen profession as a wedding floral coordinator. Behind Jace’s surly exterior she senses wounds that run deeper than a missing arm.

When Jace spots Misty fending off yet another fawning male. he’s not sure what makes his control snap. The fact that she insists on wearing her skirts too short, or the fact he can’t resist kissing her.
 

Best to get it over with and give in to one crazy night that should get her out of his system. Instead he finds himself with more second chances than he can shake his steel hook at—if he can find room in his wounded heart for love.

Warning: This title contains a jaded hero and an independent heroine who find that when push comes to push-back, an argument is the quickest route to steamy sex.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Twisted in Tulips:

Jace nursed the beer he’d ordered for another hour and thirty-three minutes. Kyle had left quickly after realizing Jace wasn’t interested in conversation, but the talking armpit of Misty’s date continued to miss the clues of her disinterest.

The longer they sat, the more she glanced in the mirror, occasionally meeting Jace’s gaze. The more she fiddled with the drink she wasn’t drinking and studied the grain of the wooden bar. The more she shifted away, millimeter by millimeter.

Every shift flexed and released the fine muscles in her legs. The more Jace watched those long, lean legs the more clearly he saw her naked except for her stilettos with those legs wrapped around his waist. Her back, held erect in refined posture, would curve as she arched in orgasm.

Her taste, peaches and margarita, lingered on his tongue.

The training drilled into him after years of service kept him from shifting in his seat, but the erection pressing against his zipper increased the challenge. The bigger challenge was stopping himself from crossing the bar a second time.

Misty shifted again. Her skirt slipped a little higher on her thigh.

Jace’s dick twitched. He dropped a shaking hand to his crotch, flattened his palm on his cock and pressed.

Across the bar, Misty flattened a hand on her thigh and rubbed her bare skin.

Rather than ease any tension, the pressure of his hand, the imagined pressure of hers, amped up his arousal. His balls drew tight and without touching the woman haunting him, fully clothed and in a public place, he lingered on the precipice of release.

Before shaming himself, he slid his hand to the middle of his thigh and dug his fingers in until his muscles bellowed with pain. His hunger inched back, not much, but enough for control to slip back to the forefront.

Twenty-eight more minutes passed with him fighting for control when Armpit finally paid the tab and escorted Misty to the door. Not caring if he was obvious, Jace threw some bills on the table and followed.

Whatever it was about the woman he’d rescued that called to him—he’d identify it later—he couldn’t let her walk away and risk never seeing her again. She interested him beyond the desire for sex.

She spoke to him the same as she’d speak to anyone, as if she hadn’t been scared by his arm. Or didn’t care.

Rather than taking a car, Armpit and Misty walked along the sidewalk, close but not intimately close. Satisfaction twitched the muscle between Jace’s nose and upper lip on the left side. She wouldn’t be inviting him over for a
nightcap.

After a few blocks, they turned down a side street and stopped shortly at the gate of a small courtyard shared by six town homes. The place was secured with a coded keypad on the gate. Beyond was an immaculately manicured lawn with lights hidden in the foliage that offered a well-lit security among the beauty of the garden.

Fading into the shadows across the street, Jace watched as Misty hugged Armpit goodnight and keyed her code into the gate. He couldn’t see the numbers from his position, but her finger strokes were enough for him to figure it out.

When Armpit had turned the corner at the end of the street and Misty had let herself into the corner home, Jace crossed the street and entered her gate code. Moving like he belonged there, he approached the door that stood between him and the woman of his desires. He rapped twice.

“One minute.” Her muffled call came out husky and a little breathy through the wooden panel. When she opened the door her burgundy suit jacket hung open, a lace-edged camisole in the same color peeked out.

His blood surged with heat.

“What are you doing here? How’d you get through the gate? Did you follow me?”

Driven by instinct, Jace stepped inside, grabbed her hips and backed her to the entryway wall. His mouth descended to hers. His tongue plunged into her warmth.

Misty’s hands gripped his shoulders. Her body arched against his. She mumbled against his lips. “The door’s still open.”