Riding the Storm (24 page)

"
Come here,
chere
," he said. She reached under her skirt and pulled
off her pink underwear first. And she got down on her hands and knees and held
her skirt out of the way while she crawled over to him. She positioned herself
on top of his prone body, her hand circling his erection to guide it inside of
her.

She
let the skirt drop as she pushed against him, drove him so deep inside of her,
she let out a muffled cry that scattered some magnificent frigate birds from
their nesting place in the nearby trees, their cries mingled with hers as they
escaped over the water and he escaped into her.

He
lowered himself from his elbows, put his head on the deck and let his hands
roam up underneath her shirt, loving the softness of her skin. She threw her
head back as she rocked against him, and he let his fingers trace her nipples
slowly.

"Never
been like this," he murmured. Everything felt different, as if he'd been
lulled into some sort of trance. Her nipples puckered, hardened as he rolled
them in his fingers.

"Take
this off,
bebe
," he urged. She pulled the blouse over her head and
untied the skirt and they were both naked in the middle of the swamp in a boat
that hadn't seen this much action since he'd been in high school, and that
paled in comparison to this.

And
as she lowered her weight down to his completely, he took one last look at her
tattoo moving to meet his.

"Go
slow, Haley." He grasped her waist and kept her from moving as frantically
as she wanted to. "Just for a minute."

She
wouldn't last a minute. Already her inner muscles had begun to contract around
him, and fire raced through her nerve endings at every point of contact.

"I
need to move," she moaned, but he dug his fingers into her hips and held
her still.

"I
need this to last."

His
words tugged at her heart. Their other encounters hadn't been much more than
hot, brutal races to the finish, and she imagined that his entire sexual
history wasn't much different.

Crazily
enough, her sexual past was the exact opposite. She'd never been afraid to
experiment, but mostly she shocked her partners with her longing to test erotic
boundaries. As a result, sex rarely ended up as anything other than a pleasant
diversion from work.

Sex
with Remy was so much more. Everything with Remy was so much more.
Mind-blowing. Addictive. Pure adrenaline.

Desire
rippled through her veins as she watched him watching her, his expression a
heady mix of need and want. Lowering her mouth to his, she brushed the tip of
her tongue across the seam of his lips, tasting cherries and white lightning.

"Kiss
me, Remy," she murmured. "Make love to my mouth, if you won't do it
any other way." She wriggled her hips for emphasis, and he gripped her
harder.

His
eyes darkened dangerously, and then he took her mouth with a hunger she hadn't
anticipated. Shock gave way to pleasure as his tongue thrust deep, stroking
against hers in a fierce, wet mating. One of his hands came up to tangle in her
hair, and she whimpered when he pulled her head back, just far enough away that
his breath fanned over her lips, but they didn't touch.

"Remy—"

"Shh."
He held her, her neck wrenched askew so she couldn't move, but she wasn't in
pain. Then, so slowly she thought she'd die, he flicked his tongue over her
lips, teasing, forcing little gasps from her every time she opened her mouth to
let him in.

But
he never came in. He just teased her mouth with tiny kisses, licks, and the
occasional flirty suck.

And
all the while, he held her captive, making her head swim with arousal and her
sex release a stream of silken liquid down the length of his shaft. It took
every ounce of self-restraint to keep from grinding her mound against him.

"Please,"
she whispered, not sure what she was asking for.

"This
was what you wanted,
bebe
." He took her bottom lip between his
teeth and let his hot tongue rasp slowly over it before releasing her.
"You wanted me to make love to your mouth. Imagine me doing this between
your legs."

A sob
escaped her and she struggled to move her head, her hips, but his grip
tightened, rendering her completely immobile and helpless.

"Open
for me."

She
shuddered and obeyed, moaned when his tongue rimmed the O of her lips and then
pushed inside to taunt her tongue with long velvet strokes and then quick, firm
stabs that made her weak.

"This
is what I want to do to your pussy, Haley." He circled her lips again,
like he had done to the entrance of her sex last night, and this time she cried
out, so desperate for release she was shaking with it.

Still,
he tormented her, lapping at her, tracing her lips, sucking delicately on her
tongue, all the while dominating her even though she was on top. She strained
against the prison of his grip, to no avail. It was frustrating. Maddening.

Erotic
as hell.

Finally,
with a butterfly brush of his lips against hers, he pulled back, pierced her
with his dark gaze. "Ride me," he commanded. "Now."

Releasing
her, he arched with such force her knees came off the deck. Fire consumed her
as she pushed herself up to brace her palms against the muscular wall of his
chest. She pumped her hips, driving short, hard strokes up and down the length
of his cock. Oh, it was good, so good that when the boat started rocking, she
didn't care. She surrendered to it, letting the rhythm enhance her thrusts.

A
low, rumbling sound arose from his chest, the vibrations shooting all the way
up her arms. Beneath her palms, his heartbeat pounded. Inside her, his shaft
swelled and pulsed as her orgasm hovered at that terrible place between torture
and ecstasy.

She
reached behind her, planted her hands on his thighs and arched her back,
spreading her legs wide. The position exposed her to the night air and Remy's
gaze, which she felt like a hot brand.

"Touch
me."

His
thumb slipped between their bodies, and for a moment he held it there, where
they were joined, so that every thrust brought the caress of his touch to both
of them. Then, slowly, he swiped the callused pad up through her slick folds,
stopping just before he touched her where she needed it most.

She
hissed in frustration. "Damn you, Remy…

Something
like a panting chuckle came from him, and she growled, reached between his legs
and cupped his balls. He sucked air between his teeth, and it was her turn to
smile. She raked her fingernails gently over the tightly drawn-up sac and then
pressed firmly against the smooth, delicate patch of skin behind them.

"Ah,
fuck," he rasped, and the breeze rattled the trees, surrounded them a
split second before he pounded into her with violent, jackhammering thrusts.

His
thumb slid up, pushed her button so skillfully she plummeted over the edge of
release and took him with her. He came in hot jets that seemed to go on forever
and splashed against the entrance to her womb in bursts of sensation, wrenching
sobbing cries from deep inside.

"Remy,
oh, Remy… She fell forward, collapsed on his heaving chest.

He
quivered beneath her, and when he brought his hand up her back, she could have
sworn it trembled. His fingers splayed over the curve of her spine as they both
tried to catch their breath.

By
the time she could breathe without huffing, darkness had fully engulfed the
bayou, but the moon left plenty of silver light. Haley pushed into a sit with
Remy still inside her. He winced, and she realized she'd pushed against his
sore ribs.

"I'm
sorry," she whispered, and bent to kiss the dark bruise.

He
sucked air between his teeth. "It's okay."

"How
did it happen?"

One
finger trailed idly along her calf as he tucked his other arm behind his head.
"Some assholes jumped me in my apartment parking lot."

"Did
they rob you?"

"Nah.
I don't think they were after money." His expression grew troubled.
"Didn't realize that until now."

Warning
alarms clanged in her head. "What makes you say that?"

"They
were too organized."

He
shook his head as though trying to forget it, but she couldn't do the same. If
his attackers were more than petty muggers, they could belong to Itor. Which
meant they'd moved faster than anyone at ACRO had foreseen. And they could very
well know where Remy was right now.

She
needed to contact Dev. Immediately.

"We
should probably go. I need to get my equipment working." She eased off
him, ignoring the emptiness as he slipped out of her body, and reached for her
underwear.

"Wait."
He grasped her wrist. "What now?"

"What
do you mean?" But she knew. And her heart seized, because she had no idea
what to say.

"Where
do we stand, Haley? And where does your agency come in? Because I still have a
lot of questions."

Agency
questions she could answer, even if the answer was nothing more than "I
can't say right now." But the personal questions… those were more
complicated.

"Are
you willing to listen to what I have to say without getting mad?"

"I
can't promise that."

She
nodded, expecting as much. "Let's talk when we get back to the house,
then."

As
gracefully as she could in the rocking boat, she pulled on her clothes, and he
did the same. Then, as she shrugged into the peasant blouse, he went deathly
still.

"Do
you hear that?"

Her
pulse rate tripled. "Hear what? I don't hear anything." If he said
alligators, she'd die.

"Exactly."
His sharp gaze took in the area, his profile hard in the light from the moon.
"It's too quiet. Something's wrong."

Oh,
God. She could stand in the path of a tornado, could be buffeted by hailstorms,
but being in the middle of a dark swamp scared the bejeezus out of her.
"What do we do?"

"We
need to get back to the house." He reached for the paddie, and started
moving them silently through the water, his biceps flexing in a way that would
have made her mouth water if it hadn't gone all dry and sandy with nerves.

"What—"
she swallowed hard "—what could it be?"

"I
don't know. Poachers, maybe." But his expression spoke of something worse.
The wind that whistled through the trees confirmed it.

"Or?"

He
closed his eyes, the savage concentration in his expression so severe that a
muscle twitched in his jaw, and then the wind died. When he opened his eyes
again, they glittered with a fierce light.

"All
I know is that I've been in too many shit situations to ignore my gut
instinct."

She
hadn't been in a lot of shit situations, but she did have a gut instinct.

And
her gut told her that they were, indeed, facing poachers.

Only
the prey these poachers were after was human.

"Annika!
Dammit, open the door!"

After
God-knew-how-long of pleading, reasoning and, finally, shouting, the tone of
Creed's voice changed. Annika backed away from the door and hit the backs of
her knees against the bed. Her world had spun off its axis, and for the first
time in her life, she didn't trust herself. Not with him. If he so much as
looked at her—

The
door crashed in. The frame splintered. Wooden shards flew across the room, and
for a second she thought the not-so-friendly house ghost had gotten pissed
again.

But
Casper was the least of her worries.

Creed
filled the doorway, fists clenched, gaze possessive and hotter than the hell
she'd cursed him to. Powerless to move, she stood there as he stalked inside.
Every heavy step vibrated the floorboards and sent tiny shock waves up her legs
to the place between them that ached.

When
he stopped in front of her, she saw only the broad wall of his chest as it rose
and fell with deep, frequent breaths. Her own breath came in painful fits and
starts, and she became acutely aware of the hardening of her nipples against the
edges of her bra, which she hadn't bothered to fix after he'd loosened the
clasp earlier.

Creed
hooked a finger beneath her chin, and she shuddered as he lifted her face until
their gazes locked. The raw desire swirling in his eyes tangled with hers, and
that fast, it was over. She'd lost the battle.

Male
triumph lit his expression. He didn't bother to hide it as he stepped back and
waited while she lifted her T-shirt over her head. Before she could drop it to
the floor, he was on her and she was on the bed, his mouth crushed to hers. An
electric tingle spread across her skin, a reminder that she shouldn't do this.
But then her bra was gone, and her shoes and jeans next, and Creed's fingers
were stroking her inner thighs and nothing mattered but his touch.