Stolen: A Novel of Romantic Suspense (20 page)

She rose on her toes and pressed her mouth to his.

Elliot groaned as she used the tip of her tongue to trace the line of his lips … he liked to do that when he was kissing her. And she’d always liked how it felt. So it would work for him, too, right? When he opened his mouth, she thought … 
yeah, that works
. She smiled inwardly as she took the kiss deeper. Heat flashed through her, pulsating bursts that seemed to work in time with her heart, spreading through her body in a
rhythmic pattern. It centered low in her body and unconsciously, she rocked her hips with it.

A harsh sound came from Elliot and Shay stilled, lifting her head to stare at him.

He caught her hips in his hands, watching her through slitted eyes. “Shay, what are you doing?”

Blushing, she asked, “Isn’t that kind of obvious?”

“Fuck.” He closed his eyes and then dropped his head down, resting it on her shoulder. “Damn it, this … give me a minute.”

“I …” She scowled. Then, as the heat faded enough for embarrassment to settle in, she twisted away from him. “Never mind. Take all the minutes you need. Don’t you need to get to the store anyway?”

She made it two steps before he snagged the back of her jeans, tugging her to a stop. “Wait just a damn minute,” he said, his voice just above a growl.

“I’ve got work to do.”

“Thirty seconds ago, the only thing you seemed interested in doing was me,” he pointed out, circling around until he stood in front of her.

Jerking her chin up, she glared at him. “Well, you needed a minute and I changed my fucking mind,” she snapped.

“I needed a minute because you go from fragile to hot-damn in five seconds flat and I can’t seem to keep up.” Frustrated, he shoved a hand through his hair, temper glinting in his eyes. “Damn it, you don’t seem to get how much you matter to me, and I don’t want to screw this up.”

“You’re doing a damn good job of showing that,” she said, her voice thick with sarcasm. Crossing her arms over her chest, she glared at him. The ache in her chest expanded and she hurt—she actually
hurt
inside because she’d felt lost for want of him and now …

“Shay, I don’t even know everything that happened to you.”

She stared at him.

And the pain shifted and went from hot to cold. Ice took the place of the pain and she spun away, covering her face with her hands. “Go away,” she whispered. “Just get the fuck out.”

“No.” He covered her shoulders with his hands.

She struck backward, driving her elbow hard into his gut. He grunted and muttered, “Good hit.”

“I said,
go away
.” When he didn’t move this time, she brought up her foot to smash the ball of her heel down on the top of his foot. He saw it coming and managed to shift at the last second, but she still caught him with a glancing blow.

“Damn it, Shay—”

His arms came around her, pulling her against him.

She tried to twist away from him. “You son of a bitch, let me go. I thought what happened didn’t
matter
,” she snarled.

“It doesn’t.” He slid one arm around her, bracing his hand against her belly. “Not the way you’re thinking. But how in the hell am I supposed to touch you without scaring you? And how can I live with myself if I do scare you?”

His lips brushed over her shoulder, left bare by her tank. “I don’t want to scare you … I don’t want to hurt you … but I want you more than I want to breathe and you’re killing me,” he whispered against her skin. “I don’t know how to handle this and you’re moving at the speed of light here.”

As he skimmed a hand up her arm, she shivered. Some of the ice gripping her heart melted, though, as he used the hand on her belly to ease her body closer to his. “Do you really want me to leave, Shay?”

Closing her eyes, she tried to think around the roaring
in her ears. Did she want him to leave? She didn’t know—did she? And why in the hell was she suddenly expected to think?

Hedging, she asked, “Shouldn’t you be at the store?”

“I called Lorna last night and asked her if she’d be okay covering today if I didn’t make it in until later.” The words were spoken against the curve between her neck and shoulder, and the feel of his lips moving against the skin there was a minor torment.

She groaned and tipped her head to the side.

He kissed her. But that was all he did. That one, soft kiss. Then he murmured against her ear, “You didn’t answer me. Do you want me to leave? You can get some work done. I can come back later. Tonight, or in a few days. We can go out to dinner. Talk.”

He was leaving this completely up to her, damn it.

Why was this so much harder now?

But she already knew the answer.

She’d slowed down enough to think.

And it was always harder once her brain took control from her body.

Swallowing, she turned around and stared at him.

“You don’t want to scare me,” she said quietly. “Is that the reason you want to stop?”

ELEVEN

D
ARCY STARED AT THE PAGE, HIT THE REFRESH BUTTON
.

Nothing.

She did it again.

Cleared the cache.

Nothing.

It was after nine in Alaska. Shay rarely slept past seven. She should have done her online journaling by now. It was the one thing that kept her sane, and while she didn’t do it every day, she did it on the days when the dreams had been bad.

Last night should have been very, very bad.

Those dragons of hers should have all but eaten her alive.

So what the hell was going on?

And she did such a wonderful fucking job taking care of you … didn’t she … Michelline …?

That was a little surprise she’d been clutching close to her chest for a long, long time. Darcy had damn well expected some kind of response. Her throat ached as she reached up to touch the screen. Although they
talked on the phone all the time and emailed,
this
was her strongest connection to Shay.

The online journal.

When Shay was scared, this was how Darcy knew what to say.

When she was pissed, this was how Darcy knew what had upset her.

Although the way Shay was upset lately … really, Darcy didn’t get that—maybe she needed to think it through a little more. Shay cared about selling books so she could sell
more
, right? Darcy was trying to help her do just that—sell more books by promoting her. Obviously, she’d miscalculated and she needed to fix things, but how could she do that when Shay wasn’t reaching
out
?

Touching the monitor, she stared at it, as though that alone would
make
the damn post appear.

She needed to know what happened to Shay last night. Had she dreamed?

Had she made him leave?

Or … worse?

“Please, no …” Darcy covered her eyes. She didn’t even want to think about that. It just wasn’t right.

Elliot stared down at her heart-shaped face and wondered if she had any idea how fucking hard it was for him to
not
touch her.

“I don’t want to stop,” he murmured, shaking his head. He brushed the back of his knuckles down her cheek. “I want you naked and if I have my way, I’ll have you naked sometime very, very soon. But I want to know I can do it without scaring you. I want to know I won’t hurt you.”

She gave him a faint smile, the dimple in her cheek flashing. “Elliot, I don’t think you have it in you to hurt a woman. I’m not worried about that.” Then she sighed
and reached up to rest her hands on his chest. “But I can’t promise you I’m not going to get scared. I just can’t. Hell, I’ve never been able to have a sexual relationship, casual or otherwise. Period.”

She paused, biting her lip as she worked up her nerve. “You know I’m … jumpy,” she settled on, glancing at him. She didn’t have to explain that. He’d already figured it out and she knew that without asking, because she’d seen it in the way he’d treated her over the years. “But you haven’t seen anything. Once, I …” She stopped and blew out a breath.

Elliot just waited.

“When I was in college, there was a guy. It was my junior year and we’d been flirting … or I’d been trying to flirt and he flirted back.” She looked away, staring off into nothing. “I just wanted to feel normal. And he was a nice guy. I liked him. A lot. He was … sweet. Patient. He was going to medical school, and I think he knew what had happened with me. He was … well, like I said … patient. We tried. One time.” She grimaced and shot him a look. “I broke his nose. I freaked out the one time we tried to sleep together and I broke his nose.”

Elliot cupped his hand over the back of her head and pressed his brow to hers. “My nose has been broken before. I can handle it.”

She laughed, the sound caught between tears and relief and other emotions she couldn’t define. “Elliot, he told me the same thing. But
I
couldn’t handle it. There was this wonderful guy and he couldn’t touch me the way we both wanted without me losing it. How do I know I’m not going to do the same thing when
we
try?”

Jealousy burned in him for a brief moment, but he brushed it off.
Doesn’t matter—he was important to her and she needed that
. Hell, Shay needed a hell of a lot more than what she’d gotten in life. Taking a deep
breath, he stared into her eyes and asked softly, “Do you trust me?”

“If I didn’t, I never would have opened my door.” She touched his cheek.

“Okay. Then I’m going to do something and if you feel the need to punch me, just let me know. Or … well, you could punch me, but you’d probably be sorry for that later. But here’s the deal: if you do hit me, you’re not allowed to run.” He paused and watched as she pulled her head back, still watching him. “Deal?”

“What are you going to do?” she asked warily.

“Not telling you. Just remember … you trust me. Deal or not?”

She grimaced. “This is more entertaining when Howie is offering a suitcase full of money.”

“Oh, you’ll be entertained, I think.” Either that, or he’d be dealing with a busted nose. “So … deal?”

“Deal.” She watched him warily and when he rested a hand on her side, she glared at him, her mouth turning down in a scowl.

“That’s it?”

“No.” He leaned in and slanted his mouth over hers, stroking his tongue along her lower lip until she opened for him on a shuddering sigh. As she did, he slid his hand up and cupped one round, small breast in his hand.

Shay gasped as he stroked his thumb over the hard, pebbled crest of her nipple. Lifting his head slightly, he whispered, “This is.”

Staring into her eyes, he circled her nipple with his thumb. “I’ve been going out of my mind ever since you came out of your room wearing this damn shirt … why did you even bother?”

Shay just shuddered and her gaze darkened to near black. As a weak moan escaped her, he asked, “Are you thinking about punching me?”

“No …”

“Good.” He continued to toy with her nipple, watching her face, her eyes, for any sign of fear, any sign of nerves. Her slim, strong body was tense and trembling … but her fingers dug into his arms and then moved to his waist, gripping him closer.

And every now and then, she moved, slow, hesitant shifts of her hips that had her brushing against the aching ridge of his cock. This was going to be an experiment in control … and in sweet, sweet torment, Elliot realized.

Stroking his hand down her side, he rested it under the hem of the tank. “Can I …?”

Shay stared at him, her eyes glassy. “Can you what?”

He eased the shirt higher.

“Oh …” She blushed and then nodded, reaching down to tug it up.

“Let me,” he whispered, nudging her hands down.

She stood there and let him strip it away and he watched as she started to cover herself—watched as she stopped and lowered her hands, standing there with her head bowed, the dark, choppy strands of her hair falling into her face.

Then he watched as she squared her shoulders before she lifted her head to look him in the eye. As if she was prepared for him to flinch, for him to look away. Reaching up, he cupped her face in his hands and took her mouth. In his mind’s eye, he could see the scars, and in another moment he’d see them again, but when he looked at her, all he really saw was her …

Her tension had returned when he stripped off her shirt, but as he kissed her, he could feel it creeping away. As she sighed into his mouth, as she swayed against him, he rested his hands on her waist. He stroked them upward until he could cup her breasts. He could feel the faint ridge of a scar here and there, but more, he felt
the silken, sweet flesh of her breasts, the hard crests of her nipples … and her. Shay. He felt Shay.

But it wasn’t enough. Lifting his head, he stared at her. “Do you trust me?” he asked again.

Shay swallowed. Then slowly, she nodded.

As he dipped his head, he loosened his grip on her waist. From the corner of his eye, he saw her hand move. As he closed his mouth around one nipple, she reached for him.

With a cry, she buried one hand in his hair. Her body sagged against his and he braced her weight with his arm around her waist. It was awkward—she was small, almost delicate. Groaning, he boosted her up, balancing her weight in his hands and lifting her breasts so they were level with his mouth.