Facing Fear (12 page)

Nikki closed her eyes, breathing unevenly. He was being so gentle but he didn’t understand. The memories she was trying to push away weren’t of heroes. It wasn’t going to work. “No. He doesn’t hurt women.”

“Does he hurt the heroine?”

“I…I…Rick…” She couldn’t concentrate at all, not with those fingernails lightly raking all the way down, reaching the vee between her thighs. She jerked her legs up to cross them, forgetting that the steering wheel was in the way. That was the opening he was waiting for, and his hand slid between her parted thighs and completely cupped her. She gasped at his intimate possession. Her heart thundering wildly, she turned sideways from him, but there was no escape from his hand. Not when the steering wheel locked her legs up. He curled his fingers inward and suddenly her whole world was centered right where he held her.

Colors swirled behind her closed eyelids. She couldn’t breathe. Or maybe she was just holding her breath. She didn’t know. Something hot and alive was burning her from the inside. All she could feel was the slow gliding of his exploring fingers as they touched her intimately, opening her, and—

Nikki stiffened, gripping the top of the seat belt button where her hand was still imprisoned under his, waiting for
the blast of pain that would follow. It always hurt when they put their fingers in there. Always.

“Breathe, little bird.”

He slipped his fingers intimately between her folds and she gave a soft cry, squirming away when he made contact. There was no pain. She felt as his long finger probed and slid inside in one slow stroke. No pain.

She was wet.

For the first time in years, she hadn’t felt the screaming psychological pain that tortured her body whenever a man touched her there. Another cry escaped as she felt his fingers pushing in deeply, opening her wider.

“Are you hurting?”

She shook her head as she took in the intense feeling of pressure between her legs. Oh God, no, he wasn’t hurting her. The mounting need gushing out of her had nothing to do with pain. She was too shocked to utter a word. She was wet. His slippery fingers told her so.

“Nikki, turn back around if you aren’t in pain.” His voice was soft but firm. “If you want it, turn around and look at me, damn it.”

She did, although she really couldn’t see him. All she could do was feel what he was doing to her. She gasped when a finger pressed against the sensitive part of her. A power surge. A burst of sensation. Her entire body jerked up, but was restrained by the seat belt. She reached out with her free hand and grabbed hold of the front of his shirt. “Rick!”

Her body was a bundle of nerves as his fingers moved, sliding in and out. His thumb circled lazily in between strokes, teasing her, getting closer and moving away, and pleasure grew like a sunrise over a dark horizon. He was driving her crazy in her own car, taking his time, using his skills to take over her control. He hummed with approval at the first spasm of pleasure.

She had never felt this way before, as if she was melting from the inside. His fingers teased with such slow torture, pinpointing where her pleasure center was and returning to stroke it over and over until she couldn’t bear it any longer,
and her hips started to undulate. But every time she jerked, the seat belt tightened even more, restraining her while he explored every tender part of her. She moaned. She couldn’t move. In and out. Over. Around. It was unbearable pleasure.

“Please—” she finally managed. She couldn’t take much more.

His mouth covered hers. “Open,” he ordered, his tongue dipping in, his fingers doing the same, the heel of his hand rubbing her damp need with the slightest pressure. “Open for me.”

It was so easy to connect with Rick. Nikki knew what he wanted. He wanted her to give him what she hadn’t been able to do for anyone else. And in that instant she let go. She opened her legs. Opened her mouth. Opened her heart. And screamed throatily as she started coming.

Rick couldn’t remember when a woman’s passion had made him ache like this. He couldn’t get enough of her, and he hadn’t even started making love to her yet. A few weeks ago, while listening to an opera about a man who loved too much, he had looked down from his seat, and felt an emptiness inside. He had been searching for something since, even in his sleep.

Like a miracle, a woman had shown up literally at his doorstep. She had deliberately sought him out and even though she had an ulterior motive, he didn’t particularly care at this moment. Right now she was definitely what he had been hungering for. And he meant to devour her.

The more he tasted, the more Rick wanted. Like the fine wine he had compared her to, Nikki’s flavor seeped into him, a slow, sure, fiery desire that was sweeping away his own control.

For some reason she was afraid of sex. It wasn’t an act, he was sure of it. And it pleased him to know that she wasn’t afraid of his touch now.

He had tasted passion before but not quite like this. There was a desperate sweetness in the way she tangled her tongue with his, as if she couldn’t get enough. She was still coming,
juicy and slippery all over his hand, and her throaty cries excited him. He pushed his fingers into her as deeply as he could and the fluttering contractions squeezed him so tightly, the thought of climbing on top of her naked body and being held so possessively inside her made him break out in a sweat. Despite her damp evidence soaking his hand, she was still incredibly tight. He wondered how long it had been since she’d had a lover and was surprised that he felt so possessively triumphant at the certainty that it had been a while.

He had wanted her like this ever since he had seen her eating at the restaurant. He had known her passion for food hid a sensual nature. Now she ate at his tongue with such wild abandon, he wanted to keep her coming. And he could, if he wanted to. A woman with a prolonged orgasm would be more relaxed and could take someone his size more easily. And he meant to be inside Nikki Taylor tonight.

Not yet, though. Right now, her pleasure was enticing. Her hands running up and down his chest, caressing his neck and face, made him wish he could feel them on his bare skin. Her legs opened wider. Her hips arched higher. She murmured against his lips and her taste and scent had his seething need straining heavily against the front of his pants.

Rick released a ragged sigh. Her uncontrolled response was like a powerful aphrodisiac, mainly because he had wanted to break that calm exterior and see how far he could go with her. And she still had a long way to go.

She clawed at his collar, moaning. He lifted his mouth a little, still unwilling to stop. He liked seeing her this way, liked knowing she belonged to him mind and body. “More,” he breathed. “Give me more.”

Inside her, he curled his fingers along the lining beneath her pubic bone, sought the internal pleasure spot. At the same time, he pressed down firmly with the heel of his hand. Her hips arched and shook as she released again. The seat belt did its part, keeping her still as he pleasured her, drawing each stroke out until her orgasm became one long contraction, then another, like a slow heartbeat. Her breath blew against his lips in halted gasps, until he was able to ad
just every rolling wave of her orgasm so precisely that she couldn’t surface.

He was good at that, making a woman die from pleasure. He had perfected it through the years because it gave him control over sex. But tonight, with Nikki, was different. He was having a difficult time resisting the urge to climb on top of her and take her in that little car. He wasn’t sure whether she would still be fearful when he took her back to his apartment.

His own raging senses were urging him to do so soon. Her scent tempted him to taste her but he resisted. A few more minutes, he promised himself. Then she couldn’t say no to him anymore. He didn’t feel like letting her go tonight.

“Rick…” Her voice was a low murmur. Her eyes were closed. Her hand still gripped his collar.

“Hmm?” He kissed her eyes, nose, lips. He stroked her again, heard her inhale sharply, and waited for her to return to him. Her breathing hiccupped.

“Rick…don’t…” He frowned. She had better not ask him to stop. “Don’t…think…I’m finished with…the interview.”

Rick stopped, then backed away a few inches to stare at her in silent amazement. The woman couldn’t lie to his fingers. She was still convulsing, still coming. Her hips were moving feverishly. She was having one huge orgasm.

Nikki Taylor might be afraid of sex, but she was indeed a NOPAIN operative. Even in the throes of being pleasured, she didn’t forget that she had a job to do. Rick had to smile. He couldn’t help but admire her. A small package of contradictions, indeed. He liked a challenge.

“Finished?” he countered, as he slowly teased her, eliciting another moan. “I’ve just begun, little bird.”

He pulled up her skirt even more and trailed wet fingers down her thighs. He slipped under her right knee and pulled her leg higher. She let him do so without protest, lethargically avoiding the steering wheel, which had aided him to keep her from crossing her legs. He leaned in and kissed her knee and scraped his teeth down her damp thigh. Then deftly he draped her leg over the partition between the front seats
and used the gearshift to lock her in place. Now he had wide access.

“Rick?” She shifted restlessly, still tightly held by the belt. Ignoring the restraint, her body eagerly followed his prodding, as if it knew better than she what it wanted.

The husky passion of her voice sent a wave of desire through him, liquefying whatever was left of his ironclad control. He examined her face, and sensing no fear, he said slowly, “Your body knows my touch. Now I want it to know my kiss. I can’t wait any longer, Nikki. I have to taste you.”

Just a bit. Just enough to carry over to his apartment. He needed to put his tongue on her, gather her scent and taste in his mouth, give in to this need to possess her. He rose and pushed his body forward, reaching for her.

She held on to his shirt tightly and he heard the popping of buttons. “Can’t.” She was barely audible.

He paused and returned his gaze to her face. “Can’t?” He cupped her and she quivered under his hand. “Can’t?” he asked again. “Or more?”

There was a strangled cry. “Y-yes.”

“Good,” he whispered, and didn’t give her a chance to say anything else. He put his head between her open legs. And tasted.

He rolled his tongue slowly over her, savoring her. Her cry was muffled against his body as she tore at his shirt even more. She buried her face somewhere against him—he couldn’t tell—he was immersed in her. He licked slowly, inhaling her scent. When her right leg jerked up he held it down firmly. Not yet.

He dipped between the silky flesh and prodded her opening. He moved his mouth and because he couldn’t stop himself, he started to do the things he knew he shouldn’t do. Not when she was so sensitive already. He tasted and swallowed every drop of her, sliding his tongue over and over that spot to make her wetter still, so he could have more. She reared up, but his lower body prevented her from hurting herself. She was moaning into his stomach, half-pleading and half-demanding, mindlessly tearing at his clothes.

Suddenly Nikki’s scrabbling hand rubbed over his erection, and it felt so good, Rick almost spilled into his pants. She started to stroke him too, following his tongue, as if he were the maestro and she was playing some instrument. His instrument, as a matter of fact. Her hand imitated his tongue’s rhythm. Faster. She went faster. Slower. She didn’t like that. She continued to stroke him at a fierce pace, not even aware that she was demanding that he follow her lead.

Rick smiled, half amused and so damn aroused, he knew he had to stop soon. He held on to her hand, stopping her teasing, and at the same time pushed his tongue into her, punishing her for almost making him lose control.

“Oh.”

Nikki halted all movement, her body tensing at his invasion. She groaned as he slowly withdrew and rolled his tongue around that little nub, sucking it.

He tongued her like he was kissing her, openmouthed, pushing in, pulling out. Over and over, he licked and tasted, finally just concentrating where it pleasured her most. Her body tensed tighter and tighter under him, straining against his questing lips. She was silent now, almost there. With his lips still holding her prisoner, he made love to her with his fingers, still amazed that she was so tight. He sucked and thrust in deep.

“Rick!” And he wallowed in her sweetness as she released into his mouth, rubbing his face as he licked her like a cat.

Rick reluctantly straightened up. He had meant to just have a sample but somehow had gone crazy at the first taste of her. Her quiet breathing told him Nikki had lost consciousness from the last orgasm. He brushed back her hair gently and kissed her lips softly. She moaned.

He undid the seat belt with a quick click of the release button. Got out of the car and went around to Nikki’s side. He made sure to lock the doors and pocket the keys. Her shoulder bag—couldn’t forget those bottles of shampoo. It took only another minute to negotiate her small weight into his arms. She lifted her head and opened her eyes.

“Rick?”

“You okay?”

“Make sure my skirt is covering me,” she said, then lay her head against his shoulder, her lips searing his neck.

Rick gave a quiet laugh. He was learning much about Nikki Taylor tonight, and he didn’t think he would get enough of her for a long, long time. His steps were light as he walked with ease toward the building, heading for the private side entrance. He didn’t think she would appreciate being carried through the front lobby with the security guards.

His heart was pounding in anticipation. In fact, his whole body was more alive than at any time he remembered. When he reached the private entrance, he shifted Nikki’s weight so he could key in the security codes.

The high beam of a car spotlighted on them. Without thinking, Rick turned his back to the light, his first thought to protect the woman in his arms. Her locked hands around his neck tightened, telling him that she was aware that something was wrong.