Torn (4 page)

The dizziness was getting worse. She put her hand to her forehead.

“Oh, Melissa . . .” He sighed out her name. “Don't you know better than to leave your glass unattended?”

She . . . she
had . . .
but just for a moment. One dance. And her friends had been at the bar, right next to her glass. Her roommate Jim had been there. Jim always looked out for her. The drink had been safe.

Hadn't it?

Her knees started to buckle, but he was there to catch her.

“You put . . . something in my drink . . . ?” Now her nausea and dizziness made sense. He'd drugged her drink. Maybe roofied her.
So scream, Melissa!
A voice in her head cried out.
Scream! People are right there.

She opened her mouth.

And felt the sharp prick of a knife beneath her chin.

I did see a knife, glinting in the dark.

“I'm not here to hurt you, sweetheart. I just want to make you happy.”

A tear slid down her cheek.

“So don't scream. Just relax. In a few more moments you'll be far away, with me.”

Melissa didn't want to be with him. She'd broken it off. They were done.

“Sorry!” She heard his voice boom out. She blinked and tried to see what was happening. “My girlfriend had a little too much to drink.” His arm was wrapped around her. “I'll make sure she gets home okay.”

He was talking to someone else. Her eyes narrowed as she turned her head. One of the bouncers from the club was walking toward them. She had a chance—­

The knife pricked her skin. Could the bouncer see it?

“Say a word to him,” he said softly, “and I
will
hurt you, so very badly.”

She didn't speak.

“Don't worry!” he called out to the bouncer. “I'll take good care of my girl.”

She wasn't his girl.

The bouncer's footsteps shuffled away.

Her eyes began to drift closed. She couldn't hold them open any longer.

“That was so good,” he said. “Now don't worry. I'll take care of you. Just like I said. Such good care . . .”

W
ADE CLENCHED HIS
hands into fists and fought to hold onto his control. They were in Victoria's bedroom. He was near the bed. She was in the doorway.

Holy hell, this was happening. Victoria was about to be
his.
Finally.

She stared at him and then lifted her fingers and turned off the lights.

“You don't have to do that,” he said. His voice sounded rough and a bit ragged, but when a wet dream came to life, how else was he supposed to talk? “I want to see you.”
All of you.

He heard the rustle of clothing, and, with the city skyline drifting through her bedroom blinds, he could just make out her sensual form as she pulled her shirt over her head. “You don't want to see my scars,” Victoria said. “It's better this way.”

Screw that. He knew she'd been attacked by that bastard with a knife while they were in Louisiana. And her scars—­they weren't a turnoff. Nothing about her was. Not to him.

There was more faint rustling and then . . . then Victoria was walking toward him. He could hear the soft sound of her footfalls. When she touched him, when she pressed her body to his, he realized that she was totally naked.

“You're wearing too many clothes,” she told him. “If this is going to work, you need to get naked.”

“Oh, it's going to work,” he muttered.
Provided my control stays in place.
She had no idea just how badly he wanted her. He got that now. She'd understand soon enough.

But he didn't strip. Not yet. Instead, he put his hands on her shoulders. Such smooth, soft skin, and then, slowly, his fingers skimmed down her body. Over her arms. Across to her breasts. He loved her breasts, so round and full. He could feel the nipples—­tight, aroused—­pushing against his fingers, and he had to tease them. Stroke them.

“Wade . . .”

And on down his fingers went as the two of them stood in the near-­dark. Over her stomach. Over the faint line of a scar that he could feel. His fingers lingered there, caressing softly, wishing that he could take away her pain.

“Don't—­”

His fingers moved away at her sharp cry. He'd come back to her scars later. He'd show her that every single inch of her body was perfect to him.

Down, down his fingers went. Her legs were parted and his hand slid toward her sex. Soft. Hot. And when he thrust his fingers inside—­

Her hands clamped around his arms and she held on tight.

“I can't wait to be in you,” he rasped.

“Then don't wait.” Her hips rocked against his hand. “Don't make
me
wait.”

She was wet. For him. Turned on already.

He slid his fingers over her sex. He liked to touch her. Liked to explore every bit of her and hear the hitch of her breath. His cock shoved against the front of his jeans. The zipper was probably imprinted on him, and he didn't even give a damn. He enjoyed touching her far too much to stop.

Would she climax for him this way? It would be so much better if she came now, then he could go in, drive deep, get her to erupt for him—­

“Strip,” Victoria told him as her short nails bit into his arms. “Now, Wade,
now.
”

He liked the need in her voice. The sensual demand.

She pulled away from him and climbed onto the bed.

Wade stripped. Threw his shirt across the room. He ditched his shoes and socks and lowered himself onto the mattress. His hand curled around her hip and he leaned over her. He wanted her mouth beneath his, he wanted—­

“You don't have to seduce me,” Victoria whispered. “I'm ready now.”

Good to know. But he'd been fantasizing about her like mad for the last few weeks, and he wasn't about to screw this up.
She won't ever think of freaking Flynn again.
So he kissed her. Deep and hard, and he savored her. His hands stroked her body as he explored every single inch of her.

First her mouth. Then her neck. He pressed his mouth to her throat, right over the frantic beat of her pulse. He licked her and used the light edge of his teeth on her tender skin. She moaned for him then, so he did it again, harder.

He kissed her breasts. He
loved
the taste of her. Sweet. So sweet. She arched up against him when he licked her nipples. She whispered out his name.

And he kept exploring. He spread her legs wide and put his mouth on her.

This wasn't going to be some fast hookup in the dark. By the time they were done, he'd own her body.

Just as she'd own his.

When she tried to pull away from his mouth, he put his hands on her hips, held her close, and he tasted her. He got a little drunk on her—­a
lot
drunk as he stroked and licked and she came against his mouth.

She yelled out his name and he rose above her, still licking his lips. Still tasting her.

He grabbed for the condom in his wallet, and he was damn grateful the thing was there. He shoved his jeans away. Put on the condom.

My control is gone.

He'd just needed her to come first, come before he let that last thread break.
She had to enjoy it, she had to enjoy me . . .

Because they weren't going to be together just one time. Oh, no, he had plans for her . . .

“
Now,
Wade,” Victoria said, her voice so sexy he knew he'd be hearing it in his head every time he closed his eyes.

He positioned his cock at the entrance to her body. He caught her hands, threaded her fingers with his, then pushed her hands back against the pillows, pinning them there even as he thrust deep into her. And after one thrust—­

Wade nearly lost his mind.

Better than good . . . better than in his dreams.

Her legs locked around him. She took him in deeper. She moaned for him, and he thrust even harder into her. The bed shook beneath him, and her sex—­so tight and hot and freaking mind-­blowing . . .

She was slick from her climax. But when she called out his name, when her body tensed beneath his, he knew the pleasure was hitting her again. As her sex squeezed him, Wade's own release barreled into him. The climax drove through his whole body, hollowing him out as he sank into her.

Hot. Dirty. Wild.

His breath heaved out of his chest.

Hell, yes, they'd be doing that
again.

He kissed her.
We'll be doing this all night long . . .

“W
ADE.”

He stirred when he heard her voice, and a smile started to curve his lips.

“Wade, you need to go.”

His smile stilled. His eyes opened. He had to blink quickly against the harsh glare of the overhead light.

Victoria stood near the bed, a white terry-­cloth robe wrapped around her. Her eyes seemed so wide and deep as she gazed at him. “You should go now.”

He glanced toward the clock on her nightstand. Nearly three
A.M.
They'd stopped their last round less than an hour ago. He must have fallen asleep . . .

“We have to be on the plane at seven, remember?”

He remembered.

He also realized Victoria was kicking his ass out of her bed. He rose, taking his time, and she immediately backed away. At that retreat, he stilled.

Was she still scared of him? After what they'd just done?

He took a minute, then rolled back his shoulders. He could smell her all around him. That sweet, heady scent of lavender, and he was still aroused.

Tonight hadn't satisfied him. It had only made him want more.

The question was . . . did she feel the same way?

Not if she's kicking me out.

He put on his jeans. Dressed in silence. He could feel her eyes on him and he knew she had to see his arousal. When he looked up at her, Victoria's cheeks were flushed.

Holding her gaze, he closed in on her.

Victoria backed up a step.

His eyes narrowed at that retreat. She was supposed to trust him.
Not
retreat.

His hand lifted and—­sure the hell enough—­she gave a little flinch. After everything 
. . .
no. His hand sank beneath the weight of her hair and he brought his mouth down on hers. He kissed her slowly, taking his time and enjoying her mouth. Then he pulled back and said, “I like touching you.”

“Wade . . .
no ties.
”

That had been her rule, not his.

He smiled and let her go. If he could, he'd tie her to him in a thousand different ways.

But he could be patient. He could play the game, for now.

So he turned away from her and headed toward the front of her penthouse. When he reached her door, he glanced back over his shoulder. Victoria had followed him.

“Two questions . . .” His voice was a little harder than he would have liked. But he didn't understand this game between them, not fully, not yet.

Victoria nodded.

“Question one . . . do you often go out and look for a stranger in the dark?” Because if she did, he'd have a whole lot of asses to kick.

“Not . . . often.”

His back teeth clenched.

“And I wasn't . . . wasn't looking for a fuck, not like you said. I was kissing him. I—­I don't know what else—­”

She stopped.

He didn't want to think of anything
else
.

Very slowly, Wade exhaled. “Question two . . . when you feel the need to let go again . . . when you want to climax until you scream . . . will you come to me?”

Silence.

Hell—­

“No ties?” Victoria asked. “No strings? Partners, with benefits?”

He nodded.

“Then . . . yes.”

That was what he needed to know.

For now.

“See you on the plane,” Wade told her, and then left. He didn't let himself look back, because if he did, he didn't think he'd be able to leave.

V
ICTORIA LOCKED THE
door behind Wade. She set her alarm and crawled back into the bed—­a bed that smelled of him.

She swiped at the stupid tears on her cheeks.

The sex had been
amazing.
Toe-­curling, can't-­catch-­my-­breath fantastic. But it should have only been sex. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Instead, she'd fallen asleep in his arms. She'd let down her guard and enjoyed being held by him. She'd awoken and hadn't been scared. She'd awoken and thought—­

He's with me.

But she had to keep him from getting too close. He couldn't learn her secrets. And he could
not
break through the wall that she kept around herself.

Sex was one thing.

Secrets . . . trust . . . no, there were some lines that she would
never
cross. Not even with him.

S
HE DIDN'T SLEEP
well the rest of the night. Mostly because she kept thinking about Wade. Thinking far too much about him.

So at six
A.M.
she had her bag and rushed out of her building. She'd already called a cab to take her to the airport. She intended to play things very cool with Wade. She could do casual. Maybe. Hopefully.

She could—­

“Victoria?”

At the familiar voice, she turned her head. Flynn Marshall was jogging toward her, clad only in a pair of loose shorts. Sweat covered his muscled chest.

Right. He runs. Just like clockwork when he's in town.

That was how they met. She'd been on her way to work. Flynn was jogging right by her—­they'd nearly collided.

Then she'd seen him again, at Wild Jokers. He bought her an apology drink.

Now, Flynn barely seemed winded as he closed in. He put his hands on his hips and his gaze swept over her. “I was hoping I might see you today.”