The Risk-Taker (9 page)

Not that she had a chance to really examine the situation. Not with his hands tearing at her shirt. He pulled the wet material over her head. It squelched when it dropped to the floor. She couldn’t stop the grimace and brief urge to rush over and clean up the mess that it was undoubtedly making of her floor.

But he distracted her by pulling his own shirt off with one quick motion. This time she barely heard the liquid
splat.

Hot muscle against cool skin. There was nothing else but him pressed against her. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t want anything but him.

His feverish lips latched onto her throat. “Tell me to stop,” he groaned roughly. “But say it now because in a few minutes I won’t be able to let you go.”

Like he was playing fair. “Why don’t you stop kissing me and say that again.”

He laughed against her, the sound vibrating through her. Her skin felt paper-thin, not strong enough to hold him out, or her in.

“Haven’t you heard? All’s fair in war.”

Love and war. But she wasn’t about to correct him. Not now.

And still, he took a single step back. His hands dropped from her body to ball into fists at his side. His biceps bulged, long lines of bluish veins popping out in provoking relief. His pecs and abs hardened, straining against the same need that coursed through her own body.

“Tell me to leave, but do it now.”

Delicious desperation filled his voice. Never in her life had she been this overwhelmed by a man.

Or this desired.

How had she ever found the strength to tell him no? That she couldn’t care about him?

Holding her hands out, she motioned for him to come back to her. It was all the answer he needed.

The catch of her bra snapped and fell away. His hands dropped to the fly of her jeans, but there they hit a snag. Desperation—his
and
hers—fought against rain-soaked denim. Her jeans clung to her skin, reluctant to release the hold they had on her thighs.

Gage had her pants bunched into an unyielding ball halfway down the curve of her rear. With a growl, he picked her up and plopped her down onto the counter. The cold granite might have been a shock to her system if she hadn’t already been chilled from the rain.

With the change of leverage, he wrapped both hands into the waistband of her jeans and yanked the suckers away. They, too, landed with a squelching plop.

“Good place for them,” he said, pointing accusingly at the jeans, as if they might become ambulatory and try to prevent him from having her again.

She moved to jump down off the counter, but his heavy hold on her thighs stopped her. His hands were so big. Strong. Capable. He could do anything with those hands, anything he wanted. Spread wide, they could have wrapped all the way around her leg.

His fingers, agile, calloused and marred by a myriad of tiny scars, held on tight. The bandages on his thumbs made her chest tighten and ache. She stared at them, mesmerized and momentarily overwhelmed by everything—him, her, them.

“Don’t,” he growled, low and threatening.

She jerked her gaze up to his. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t think about it. Don’t let them win. Don’t ruin this.”

Her throat tightened, but she nodded. How could she not? It was the only thing that she could do for him. She hadn’t been there. She couldn’t protect him. Couldn’t prevent the suffering. So she’d give him this instead, even if it hurt her just a little to do it.

Reaching for him, she spread her thighs wide and pulled him into the waiting cradle. Even as his hands moved tantalizingly up the inside of her thighs she struggled against a need to hold on to him.

A need to feel him and know that he was there. Safe.

To hide the reaction—from him and herself—Hope pulled his mouth to hers and let the desire she’d been struggling against fill her. It was so much easier to deal with than the rest.

His tongue stroked against hers, tantalizingly insistent. An arm swept her hips forward, balancing her precariously on the edge and bringing her aching core tighter against him. Wet denim abraded her warm thighs.

Her hips rolled against him. The reaction was involuntary, instinct and need. She ached to feel him, all of him, deep inside her.

A sound erupted from his throat, a combination of wounded surrender and snarling command. She understood perfectly.

It was so liberating to stop fighting against them both. Such a relief.

His mouth and hands were everywhere. Her throat, shoulders, stomach. His teeth grazed against the distended tip of her breast. It was her turn to whimper. She watched that damnable smile play with the edge of his lips as he opened them. She could feel the moist heat of his breath on her aching flesh, and still he wouldn’t give her what she wanted.

His golden eyes glittered.

“Gage,” she warned.

“Hmm,” he answered, the sound buzzing deep in the back of his throat.

As she watched his tongue flicked out for a single, quick taste of her. How could that one touch send a shudder convulsing through her entire body?

Her eyes slid closed at the pure pleasure as he did it again. But he didn’t let her luxuriate long.

“Look at me.” Her eyes popped open, obeying without question. “I want you to watch what I do to you. I want you to see. To know it’s me.”

How could she not? Only Gage had ever made her feel this restless and out of control. That’s what had always scared her. When they were fourteen, fifteen, seventeen, just the weight of his eyes on her could make her skin feel tight enough to split and spill out everything she was. All she could think of back then was if he could make her feel that way without even touching her...

That kind of power and control still scared her. But it was a little late for second thoughts. Besides, the pleasure of him was a heck of a lot stronger than the fear.

His mouth trailed down her body. “I’ve waited years for this. I’m going to relish every second. I’m going to draw it out and make it so good that neither of us will ever be able to forget.”

That sounded...decadent and terrifying and absolutely perfect.

“Like I could.”

Muscles leaped everywhere his lips touched—her belly, her hip, the crease at the top of her thigh. His tongue swept beneath the edge of her panties, making her gasp.

His mouth latched onto her through the barrier of lace and satin. Her hips surged forward—she wanted so much more. The heat of his breath caressed her. It wasn’t enough.

One large hand lifted her up as the other yanked away the final barrier between them. He stared at her bared body, studying her with an intensity that had her squirming self-consciously.

She was far from a virgin, although her first real sexual encounter hadn’t been until college. At home she’d never been interested in anyone. Spending all her time with Gage, she’d had nothing left over for anyone else.

Besides, she’d never thought of herself as a particularly sexual person. She liked sex. Who didn’t? It felt good. But nothing—not a damn thing—could have prepared her for the way Gage made her feel.

Every cell in her body was awake, straining to get closer to him. To get more of him. It was an energy writhing inside her. A need so inherent and deep she was afraid she’d never be able to shake it.

And maybe that’s really why she’d kept him at a distance.

Gage dropped to his knees in front of her. She wanted to protest, but couldn’t find the words.

A stubble-roughened cheek rubbed back and forth against her inner thigh. Her skin prickled and tingled.

“It isn’t fair,” he whispered against her.

His hands spanned her hips. A single thumb brushed softly against the curls he’d just uncovered.

She ached. So badly. “What isn’t?”

He spread her open. Cool air kissed her heated skin, driving her crazy.

“That you can be this beautiful.”

Hope scoffed, the harsh sound crackling and breaking. “I’m not.” Willow was classically beautiful. Lexi was cute. Tatum was edgy and mysterious. Macey was soft and comfortable. Lanie was striking. Jenna was confident. She was pretty...and realistic.

He looked up at her, staring her straight in the eye. “You are.” When he said it that way, all heavy words and honest gravity, she almost believed it. “I’ve met women from all over the world—exotic, appealing, even seductive.”

“Just what every girl wants to hear when she’s naked and vulnerable.”

“The only one who’s vulnerable here is me. I’ve wanted you for as long as I can remember, Hope, and you know that.
You
have been the woman I compared every other to.”

Hope tried to laugh off what he’d just said, but the sound got strangled. “Only because I told you no. If I’d said yes, if I’d followed you to basic training and hung around like some army groupie, you would have been bored within a week.”

“Not true. Plenty of women have told me no over the years. I just didn’t care when they did. With you, that ‘no’ hurt.”

What was she supposed to do with that? As she sat naked on her kitchen counter, his words made her feel even more exposed, which was silly since he was the one making confessions.

She didn’t want to be the standard he used for other women. She didn’t want to have that kind of responsibility and power in his life.

She didn’t.

Hope leaned forward and tried to push him away from her. Tried to close her thighs and block him out.

But he wouldn’t let her.

“Oh, no, you don’t. You don’t get to run away this time, Hope. I’m not letting you.”

His mouth latched onto her sex. The silky edge of his tongue stroked her clit. And any thought of protecting herself, of denying him, fled.

It was too late, she’d already let him in.

His fingers slipped up the slit of her sex, spreading the evidence of her desire for him. Her heart pounded erratically in her ears and everything but the feel of him faded away to nothing.

He stroked her, teased her, drove her to the brink of insanity. And she relished every second of it.

Gage pulled her tighter against his tormenting mouth, balancing her on the edge of reality and the counter. Her hands scrabbled for something solid to hold on to even as the storm of sensation built dangerously inside her.

Her entire body strained. She’d never been this overwhelmed or wantonly desperate.

A cabinet door crashed open. Several thunks reverberated ominously. Tigger yowled from wherever he’d hidden. Her fingers curled around whatever she’d grabbed on to, the sharp edge of something biting in and holding on.

Her hips thrust against Gage’s relentless mouth. His tongue speared deep inside her. And she broke apart into tiny pieces. Her entire body bucked against the snap of release. Hot pleasure washed through her, blinding her to everything but the way he made her feel.

She screamed. Or maybe that was just in her own head. She didn’t know. Didn’t care.

Finally the world stopped spinning and everything settled back into place. Hope opened her eyes—it was the first indication they’d closed. Gage was standing before her, staring down at her with a hot, dangerously self-satisfied grin. The remnants of her passion glistened on his lips. She should probably be embarrassed by her own abandon, but she wasn’t.

How could she when Gage was finally smiling? Really
smiling. Not that weak excuse for the joy and excitement he’d always found in life, but the genuine thing.

She’d done that. Well, she supposed he’d done that. But she was about to make that smile of satisfaction even wider.

Something skittered across the granite countertop when she shifted. For the first time she looked around her and nearly choked on laughter.

Several small bottles lay scattered around her. Her spices. The cabinet door next to her swung drunkenly back and forth.

Looking back at Gage, she wrapped her hand in the waistband of his jeans and pulled him closer. “One of us is going to have to clean up this mess and it isn’t going to be me.”

“Happy to. Rearranging your spice rack is a small price to pay for having you.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” she whispered against his mouth.

Heat and need slammed through her. How could she want him again so quickly? “Take me upstairs.”

She didn’t have to ask twice. Gage swept her off the counter and into his arms, heading straight for the staircase.

9

W
ET
DENIM
CONSTRICTED
painfully against his straining cock. Taking them two at a time, Gage bounded up the stairs. If he didn’t find a bed in the next thirty seconds he was going to take her right in the middle of the hallway.

And while that might have been one of the fantasies his teenage mind had played out all those years ago, he thought he’d gained some control since then. Apparently not. Not where Hope was concerned.

At the top of the stairs four doors lined the hallway. Bedrooms? Bathrooms? An office? She saved him by saying, “Last door on the right.”

He strode across her bedroom, a red haze of need clouding everything but his focus on her.

Her hair was damp against his arm. His own skin felt clammy and tight, as if the rain had pounded straight into his pores. He wanted a shower, but he wanted her more.

His knees hit the bed and he dropped her onto the soft surface. But before he could follow her down Hope had already popped back up, her hands grappling with his fly.

Her fingers brushed the throbbing ridge of his erection. She tugged at the tab of his zipper. It went down a centimeter and then stopped. She jerked at it, up and down, metal grinding against metal, but it didn’t budge.

Round, disbelieving eyes collided with his. “It’s stuck.”

Of course it was. The universe was conspiring against him, that was all there was to it.

He laughed. What else could he do? Gage grabbed her hands and fell to the bed with her lush body sprawled across him.

“This isn’t funny,” she exclaimed, staring down at him as if he was on the verge of losing his mind. Maybe he was.

“Yes...yes, it is. I finally get you naked and I can’t get my damn pants off.” He devolved into laughter again. It was either that or scream in frustration. Laughter was the saner response...but only just.

Hope didn’t join him. Apparently she didn’t see the humor. Instead, the sharp heels of her palms dug into his chest as she levered herself off of him so that she could study him with narrowed eyes. Her teeth tugged at her bottom lip, pulling it into her mouth. He wanted to do that, but considering his dick was currently being held hostage, that probably wasn’t a good idea.

“How much do you like them?”

“Right now? Not at all.”

“Good.”

She crawled up his body and across the bed. He nearly groaned when her sex, still wet and swollen from the release he’d given her downstairs, hovered right above his face.

Dammit! Now
this
was torture. If the insurgents had dangled a willing and aroused Hope just out of his reach he might have told them whatever they wanted.

With a moan of surrender, even as he realized this agony would be self-inflicted, Gage surged up to taste her. A tremor rocked through her body and her hips bucked against his mouth.

“Gage,” she cautioned, breathlessly, as something metallic clattered above his head. He was too preoccupied to puzzle out the source of the sound.

To his amusement, and disappointment, after several moments, Hope physically launched herself backward out of his hold. She knelt between his open knees, her breasts bobbing up and down with each labored breath and a gleaming pair of scissors clutched triumphantly in one hand and a condom in the other.

“Have I mentioned that you’re amazing?” he asked. Folding his arms beneath his head, Gage held still and waited for her to start cutting.

“You might want to wait until they’re off,” she suggested, opening and closing the scissors with a metallic snick.

She wrapped a hand in his waistband again and pointed the scissors straight for his groin. “Uh,” he started to protest, but thought better of whatever he was going to say. Better not to distract a woman with a sharp object that close to his cock.

In one clean snip a jagged line appeared beside his fly.

Finally. The relief—figuratively and literally—was unbelievable. There was nothing left to prevent him from having Hope.

The scissors clattered to the floor, probably the safest place for them right now. Her hand plunged into the opening she’d created and wrapped around his aching sex. He gasped and nearly jackknifed off the bed. A purr of satisfaction rolled through her chest and echoed deep inside him.

She worked him, squeezing, stroking, driving him crazy. Her fingers slipped over the sensitive head of his cock, making his hips thrust and beg for more. Hell, if she kept doing that his pants wouldn’t make it off before he exploded.

And that was not how this night was going to go. He’d waited too long for this for it to be over that quickly.

Grasping her wrist, he pulled her hand away. Her lips drew down into a deliciously tempting pout. He’d never been the kind of guy to like that sort of thing, but on Hope everything looked good.

Lifting his hips, he pushed the ruined jeans down his body. Hope realized what he wanted and helped.

He saw the gleam in her eyes. The way she stared at him and licked her lips. His cock jerked, wanting closer to that mouth. Oh, yeah, he was in trouble.

Executing preemptive maneuvers, Gage pulled her back to the bed and flattened her onto her stomach. He rose above her, his hand pressing gently into her spine to keep her exactly where he wanted...while he regained some equilibrium and much-needed control.

His mouth touched down onto the center of her back and she shivered. He trailed his tongue up the sensitive knots of her spine, relishing the taste and feel of her skin. Sweet. Hot. Perfect. Better than anything he’d ever imagined.

“Didn’t you get enough of this downstairs?” Hope craned her neck around so that she could look at him.

He smiled wickedly against her skin, latching onto the nape of her neck and relishing the broken sound when she sucked in a breath. “Never.”

He worked his way down again, nipping at the pale, round globes of her ass. She writhed beneath him. Her thighs fell open and he could smell the heady scent of her arousal. For him.

His hands followed the same path, urging her wider so that he could see all of her.

Downstairs he’d been hell-bent on making her scream as fast and hard as possible. He wasn’t taking the chance that she would come to her senses and change her mind. Not without a taste of her.

Now that he knew she wasn’t going to tell him to leave...he could take his time. And that’s exactly what he intended to do.

His fingers slipped down the dent of her rear, following the path until he reached the slippery entrance to her sex. He hadn’t taken the time to touch and explore. Now he did, learning all he could about her.

The way her body clenched when he pushed into her channel the slightest bit, trying to beckon him farther. The broken sound she made when his thumb pressed against her clit. The shiver of her body. The unconscious grind of her hips.

She buried her forehead against the bed when he plunged a finger deep inside her and strained back against the invasion, asking for more. Kneeling between her open thighs, he bent over and sucked gently on the tender bundle of nerves at the base of her spine. He worked his fingers in and out of her, slowly, steadily, driving them both crazy.

His own hips pumped in time to the thrust of his hand, wanting nothing more than to bury to the hilt deep inside her.

Not. Yet.

He had good intentions, but Hope took them all away. Surging away from him, she lunged across the bed, twisted and threw something at him. He caught the tiny square packet right before it hit his face. His battle-honed reflexes were the only thing that kept him from getting a corner in the eye.

“Now, Gage. Please,” she begged, her beautifully naked body spread-eagled across the bed.

How could he deny her anything? Especially something he wanted so desperately himself.

Rolling the condom down over his aching erection, Gage grasped Hope’s thighs and pulled her back to him. He didn’t bother turning her over, but lifted her up onto her knees and drove deep inside her.

She let out a strangled sound. He stilled. She warned, “Don’t you dare stop,” with what little breath she still had.

He’d always been good at taking orders. Okay, that was a lie. But he’d gotten a hell of a lot better at it.

The walls of her sex held on to him, squeezing tight. She rolled her hips and he nearly lost it. His fingers bit into her, trying to keep her still. But neither of them could stand it.

Gage pulled slowly out and then sank back into her. He did it again, running a hand down her spine. Hope followed him, grinding back against him so that she could get more, taking everything.

Desperation swamped him. Touching her, having her, thrusting deep inside her felt so damn good. Gage ground his teeth together, trying to stretch this out and prolong the moment. But he’d wanted her way too long for that to last. His body had other ideas.

Pretty soon he was thrusting against her so hard and fast that he couldn’t tell when one surge ended and another began. Hope panted. They both did. He couldn’t catch his breath, but who cared about dying? Not him. Not now.

With one hand he held Hope’s hips in place. The other pressed her shoulders tight to the bed. He could feel the tremors of her release tempting him to just let go. Every muscle in her body quivered, on the edge of something great.

He felt it, too. Knew what was coming. Together, they strained for release. And when it hit, it overwhelmed them both.

Hope’s hands gripped the bed so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her mouth was locked open on a silent scream that her body was too busy to let free.

Gage didn’t have that problem. The orgasm hit like a fist upside the head. A kaleidoscope of color flashed across his eyes. The room spun and he wasn’t sure he was even still upright. The tight grip of Hope’s sex clutched on to him, the only solid and certain thing.

Several minutes later the world righted itself and Gage realized Hope was pinned beneath his leaden body. At least he’d had the forethought to land half on and half off of her. Although, he could still feel the jerky hitch of an aftershock as it rumbled through her body.

After several minutes, she stirred, disentangling their limbs and shoving him away so she could flop bonelessly onto her back. For a second her callous treatment bothered him—casual sex had never concerned him before, but this was Hope—until she pulled his arm back over her hip and curled into him.

She buried her nose against his collarbone, and her soft words whispered against his skin. “Thank God I never knew you were that good. I might not have found the resolve to watch you go.”

* * *

H
OPE
STRETCHED
SLOWLY
,
a smile on her face before her eyes had even opened. Several places on her body protested, but she ignored them. Not even sore muscles could take away the contentment that effervesced through her.

The smell of frying bacon drifted up the stairs from the kitchen. She couldn’t remember having bacon to cook.

Even though the tantalizing scent meant he couldn’t be there beside her, Hope found herself reaching out and running her hand across the cool sheet where Gage should have been. The spot didn’t have any residual body heat. How long had he been up?

And why did it bother her that he hadn’t slept as soundly as she had?

A sharp sound reverberating from her front door prevented her from looking too closely at her reaction. Nothing good could come from it, anyway.

Grabbing a robe off the back of her bathroom door, Hope padded down the stairs on bare feet. Her hand was inches away from the knob when Gage appeared beside the banister, a spatula hanging loosely in his hand.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Hope froze. He looked amazing. His chest was bare and the jeans he’d thrown on rode low on his hips.
Where the hell had they come from?
He hadn’t bothered to zip or snap them, which made Hope seriously consider how easy it would be to get him back out of them.

Another knock pounded on the door behind her.

Frowning, she spun away to glare at the thing. She took a single step toward it. Shaking his head, Gage said, “Suit yourself,” and then turned back to the kitchen.

Bypassing the door, Hope headed for the window that ran beside it so that she could see who was assaulting her door this early in the morning. And was shocked at the sight that greeted her.

There was no sign of the bike Gage had parked at the curb yesterday when they’d driven home in the rain. Instead, a handful of news trucks occupied the space, their satellite antennas stretching high against the bright blue sky.

There must have been fifteen or twenty people milling around on her front lawn. Women in suits and full makeup. Men in ties and fancy dress shoes. Almost all of them had paper coffee cups from the diner clutched in their hands.

“What the hell,” she exclaimed. Several people closest to the house turned to look at her—apparently she needed to get thicker windows, not that soundproofing had been a real issue before today. Several of them leaped into action, grabbing up cameras and snapping off several pictures before she had a chance to duck back behind the door.

“I told you,” Gage hollered from the safety of her kitchen.

Careful not to walk in front of the windows, Hope headed into the back of the house.

“What is going on?” she demanded, stopping just inside the room and crossing her arms over her chest.

Gage, standing at her stove, the handle of her skillet in one hand and the spatula in the other, tossed a frown at her over his shoulder. “I’m making omelets. Do you want bacon or veggie?”

“I don’t want either!”

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, Hope.” Tigger wound in a figure eight between his open feet.

“I want to know what those people are doing on my front lawn.”

“I’d think that was obvious. Especially for someone who works at a newspaper. They’re waiting for a story.”

Frustration jangled through her. “But why do they expect to find one here?” she asked slowly, hoping eventually she’d hit on the right question to ask him so that she’d get some answers.