In For the Kill (15 page)

C
HAPTER
11

S
veti pressed her hot forehead against the window glass, shaking.

The door opened, making her jump. Sam, of course. He shut the door, locked it. As if he had every right to. And God knows, he did.

“You can't come to Italy,” she blurted. “That wasn't the plan.”

“Plans change.” His voice was so calm. It maddened her.

“Not like this. Not . . .” She waved her hands. “You don't understand. This whole thing. You and me. Coming to your house the other night. It was all predicated on the fact that I was leaving. I would never have done it otherwise. I would never have led you on like that.”

He shook his head. “You really know how to stroke a guy's ego. Why be so uptight? Don't worry. Take it one day at a time. Don't stress.”

“It doesn't make any sense,” she protested. “Following me to Europe, gratis? When your life is here, your work, your family—”

“What life?” he said. “What work? And my family bites my ass. I'm willing to put distance between me and my family. You catch me at a unique time in my life, Sveti. I have no compelling reason right now not to follow you across the world.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. How bad could it get, if her pattern held? The nightmares, the flashbacks. And how did she explain that nasty, toxic shit to a gorgeous, brave, sexy, wonderful guy who just wanted to be her boyfriend? “But I can't offer you anything that would make it worth your while,” she insisted. “I just can't.”

“Let me decide what's worth my while,” he said. “There's nothing on earth I'd rather do with my time than prevent scumbags from killing you.” His dimples flashed. “And spending all my downtime draped over your naked body, of course. But hey. No pressure.”

She brushed aside his invitation to keep it light and playful. “I can handle myself, Sam. Val can get me a weapon once I'm there. I have combat training. I'm not helpless. I learned to shoot from Tam and Nick; I studied martial arts with Davy and Sean and all the rest. And I know more about drugs and poisons from Tam than you ever want to hear.”

“Right,” he said. “You can repeat that for days on end, and I'll still keep seeing you with your head and shoulders in a tub of ice water.”

She waved that away. “I was off my guard yesterday. I won't be ever again. Plus, I'll be less of a spectacle by myself. I just need to fall off the face of the earth for a while, let everyone forget that I—”

“Do not insult my intelligence,” Sam said. “A girl who looks like you will always attract attention. When you start doing your thing, you'll attract even more. You'll be splashed all over every media that exists. Schoolgirls will write essays about how you inspire them. You're doing the opposite of going into hiding. Don't bullshit me, Sveti. Ever.”

“But I can't make it worth your while, Sam,” she said, desperately. “I swear. I just can't.”

He gazed at her. A level, appraising glance that made her knees go wobbly and her face get hot. “No,” she said quickly. “If that's what you have in mind, forget it. I would never trade sex for—”

“Shhh. Not at all. I never said that. You came up with it yourself, because you're all wound up. I would never think that of you.”

“Sam, I . . . I'm just afraid that it will go bad. Really bad.”

“Don't sweat it. Just do your thing,” he urged. “Save the world, and I'll watch your back. Don't worry about my poor tender feelings or my unrealistic expectations. Those are my problems. I'll deal with them.”

She took a nervous step backward as he advanced on her. “And why this great act of self-sacrifice?”

“Who said anything about sacrifice?” Another step flattened her against the window. The glass was cold through the loose weave of her sweater. “Of course, I'll come on to you. I'll be all over you, every chance I get. But it won't be payment for services rendered. Don't slap a crass label on it, Sveti. Just let it be whatever it is. Let it breathe. Let it exist.”

She laughed, shakily. “Oh, you smooth, sneaky bastard.”

“That's me.” He put his hands on either side of her head, against the glass. “Granted, I stand ready. Give me the nod, and I'll be all over you. My tongue in your mouth, or sucking on your tits, or trailing down your spine, or between your pussy lips, lapping up your lube. I'll fuck you into sweaty exhaustion every night and every morning. But when we go to breakfast, I'll morph from abject sex slave into the perfect bodyguard. Not a hair out of place. Completely focused. We'll all get what we need. It could work, Sveti. Really.”

Sveti's mouth shook, from proximity to his sensual lips, but he didn't kiss her. He just danced around it, teasing her. Leaning to inhale the scent of her hair, to nuzzle the nape of her neck.

“After a long day of saving the world, I'll bathe you, shampoo you, rub you down with scented body oil,” he rasped into her ear. “Mmm.”

“Don't make fun of me,” she whispered.

“I'm dead serious. I'll blow-dry your hair and steam your suits. I'll pick out your lingerie. I'll carry your bags, and keep your cell phone charged, and screen your calls, and solve your computer problems. And go down on you. For hours. You'll lie there legs spread, writhing with pleasure while I lick your pussy. My payoff is your sweet elixir. Yum.”

She shook her head. “A guy like you will get bored out of his mind really fast, playing lady's maid and charging up my cell phone.”

“You know what, Sveti? I am totally willing to cross that bridge when I come to it. When I'm with you, the very last thing I have to fear is boredom.” He suckled her earlobe. “I'm not asking for love or gratitude or promises. All I want is to keep you safe. And make you come. Let me give you a sample taste right now. See how you like it.”

“You don't have to, ah . . . I already know—”

“Sample it again. You might have forgotten. It's been well over an hour.” He kissed her hungrily. His lips were so hot. Soft and hungry, demanding and insisting. He slid his hand down to the small of her back, pressing her mound against the hard bulge in his crotch.

Her jeans were low rise, and loose enough for him to just slide his hand inside, over her ass. His fingers stroked tenderly into her sensitive cleft. Barely touching her labia with his fingertips from behind.

Her thighs contracted at the delicate touch.

He jerked her belt buckle loose and tugged her jeans halfway down her thighs. He sank to his knees. “Hold up your sweater and watch while I lick your clit,” he said. “Watch every detail.”

Sveti clutched the wadded sweater against her breasts. Her thighs quivered, trapped by the jeans that were snarled around her knees, but Sam didn't pull them down. He seized her ass cheeks in his big, warm hands, clutching tenderly as he pressed his mouth to her mound.

The sound that came out of her was unrecognizable as his tongue probed boldly between her folds, swirling up around her clit. Kissing it, suckling it, trilling. Thrusting his tongue hungrily up inside her pussy.

It felt so good. She felt so naked, exposed, with all the glass, all the light, all that enormous space behind her, as if she could fall back into bright emptiness. The cold glass against her bare ass felt good now, against her hot skin. It was pleasure, joining all the other rivulets of pleasure. They all joined into a rushing torrent that crashed and roared, carving brand-new channels of sensation inside her body. Remolding her. Then they rippled out, into a sweet, shimmering endless vastness.

Sam held her steady, his hand splayed against her belly to keep her upright. The other hand was between her legs, fingers deep inside her pussy. Just holding her. Claiming her.

She licked her dry lips. Groped for words, found none.

Sam found them for her. “You want me to fuck you.”

It was not a question. She managed only a tight, nervous nod.

Sam pushed her jeans down and she stepped out of them, wobbling so hard she almost fell. Her face burned. She was abashed at how easy it was for him to manipulate her with sex.

She felt helpless and desperately eager. Vulnerable. Weak.

Sam jerked her sweater and T-shirt over her head. A flick of the clasp and the bra followed. She was naked, while he was fully clothed.

Sam's eyes swept the room. “We need fresh sheets before we use the bed again. Put your hands on the back of the couch and bend over.”

She hesitated, so he guided her into the position he wanted. Arms braced, back arched, ass stuck out. Legs spread. The submissive pose triggered a rush of complicated, conflicting emotions, but nothing trumped that clawing, restless heat. She offered herself to him, shaking.

He let out a harsh, jerky sigh. “You are so beautiful from this angle. That sweet pussy. All shiny and pink. Mine.”

She moaned as he stroked her from behind, up and down her labia. “Wet and soft,” he whispered. He thrust two fingers inside her, forcing them deeper. His breath was hot against her shoulder. “Arch your back,” he directed. “Dance for me, around my hand. Show me how you'll move around my cock when I'm inside you.”

She tried, awkwardly at first, but they soon found the perfect rhythm. Every probing stroke made pleasure jolt and swell, wafting her higher, higher . . . until it tipped, and became a crashing inevitability.

She came apart, like a dandelion in the sun. Disintegrated into a frothy cloud by a puff of air, and borne tenderly away on the breeze.

When her eyes opened, Sam withdrew his hand and leaned to tug the bathroom door open, so that the floor-length mirror reflected them.

It made her gasp. Her wanton, blushing face, her dazed eyes, her tousled hair. She jerked up, but Sam's hands tightened on her body.

“Don't move.” He wrenched his belt buckle loose, opened his jeans. He freed his cock, staying fully clothed as he prodded himself against her slick folds and forced himself inside her. Sveti pushed back, yielding into the heavy, slick caress of his thick phallus.

He wedged himself deep, then withdrew with agonizing slowness. In again, out again. Each slow stroke a hot, luscious lick of pleasure.

Amazingly, that breathless, terrifying tension was building again. She closed her eyes against it, pressing her face to the couch.

Sam seized a handful of hair at the nape of her neck and tugged her head up. “No, Sveti. Look at me. Look into my eyes.”

She met his gaze in the mirror, and her eyes skittered away from the intensity, as if it were an electric shock. “I can't,” she gasped out.

“Do it.” His eyes demanded, implacable. “It's important.”

She met his eyes in the mirror, saw the tension in his clenched jaw, the naked emotion in his eyes. His powerful body thudded against hers, stroking and stroking, demanding, insisting . . .

She came apart again, explosively.

This time, when she floated back, she was on the floor, with no memory of getting down there. No bumps or bruises, though. She'd floated down on a magic cloud. There was a heavy thrum of water from the bathroom. Steam floated from the open door.

Sam came out. He scooped her into his arms. “I ran you a bath.”

She was too limp to protest. He set her on her feet in the hot water, which foamed and roared from the pounding jet. She sank into it with a grateful sigh. He'd found something lavender scented to throw in. Ahh.

He hit the tap to stop the water, and crouched next to the tub.

For the first time, she felt relaxed enough to just look at him, full on. Not just the usual quick, nervous stolen glance, but an all-out, blatant, ogling stare. Enjoying every beautiful detail. It felt wonderful.

Sam grabbed the soap and pulled one of her feet out of the water. She twitched, trying to jerk it away. “What do you think you're doing?”

He grinned. “Call it the audition. You know, for my body servant duties. I've never done a pedicure, but I'm a fast learner. I can't wait to paint those pearly little toenails.” He leaned to kiss her toes.

Her foot jerked, involuntarily. “That's silly.”

“Is it?” He yanked her foot back and planted it against his chest, heedless of the wet footprint she left on his shirt. He sudsed up his hands and dug his fingers deeply into her quad muscles, massaging her leg. Oh, God. She gasped, as tension released in a shuddering rush. After sex like that, she wouldn't have thought there was any tension left, but Sam kept squeezing, kneading, releasing layer after layer of tightness and always finding another hiding beneath it. Some of those knots inside her were so old, she didn't recognize them as pain anymore.

The sudden relief from the tightness was weird, unsettling. She didn't know herself without it. She didn't recognize the sensations in this unknown girl's body at all. She felt lost. Floating in no-man's land.

Sam was halfway down her second leg before she could gather her wits to speak. “You're getting totally soaked,” she told him.

“A small price to pay. I give myself up to your service. Mistress.”

She snorted. “Mistress, my ass. You're a dominating alpha male to the very core of your being, Sam Petrie. Pretend all you want, but you can't fool me. Not now that we've . . . made love.”

His brow tilted up. “Say ‘had sex.' You'll feel more in control. ‘Fucked' would be even better, if you could cough it out.”

She tugged her foot away, stung. “Ouch,” she murmured.

Sam stuck his hand into the water and seized her foot again. “At least the sex works. You did fine, in spite of my dominating alpha vibe. I've never seen a girl come so hard.” Sam soaked his sleeve up to the shoulder as he slid his hand up her inner thigh and cupped her muff. Her legs floated apart to give him better access. He slid his finger inside.