True Vision (26 page)

She moaned, wanting him to go faster, to get inside her. But he took his time caressing her everywhere—the backs of her knees, her ankles, the arches of her feet, back to the insides of her thighs—everywhere but where she wanted it most. When she couldn’t stand it anymore, she shoved at his shoulders and rolled so that she straddled his hips, her hands braced on his chest, her hair hanging down.

He grasped her waist with a chuckle. “In a hurry, are you?”

“You have no idea,” she said as she tossed her hair over her shoulder and settled her mouth on his. She nipped at his lips with her teeth, and he made a sound in his throat that sounded like a growl.

When she came up for air, he adjusted his position under her so that his rigid cock was right at her entrance. “Jesus, you’re so wet I can smell it.”

She smiled into green eyes burning with desire. “Does it turn you on?”

He bumped his hips up, his hard, hot cock nudging against her. “What do you think?”

She began to lower herself slowly, taking him in an inch at a time, sucking in a shuddering breath. His hands tightened on her waist, then, without warning, he rolled her under him and plunged. She gasped and arched, shocked and thrilled at the abrupt invasion. He withdrew and plunged again, sinking into her to the hilt, stretching, filling. Sliding his arms under her thighs, he drew her legs up, opening her farther, withdrew and glided home again.

“I’m not going to last,” he rasped. “You’re so tight and hot. I get inside you, and I can’t control myself.”

“Go ahead and lose control.”

Instead of beginning the final, desperate thrusts that preceded his orgasm, he unexpectedly withdrew and paused, braced on his arms, his breathing harsh but controlled.

He gave her a determined, albeit pained grin, a trickle of sweat tracking the side of his face. “Not yet,” he said. “You’re going to have to wait for it right along with me.”

She started to protest but instead gasped when he lowered his head and his hot, wet mouth sucked in her left nipple. His tongue rolled it against the roof of his mouth before catching it gently between his teeth and tugging, tugging. She arched off the bed at the stab of longing between her legs. He did the same to the other nipple, then suckled it hard, his tongue circling and pressing and flicking.

She grasped his head, unable to stop the raspy moan that escaped her throat. His breath was warm and moist as he moved down, pausing to taste the skin above her navel, then sweeping his tongue into that little indentation. His teeth nipped at her flesh, burning a trail straight to her throbbing center. And then he was there, right there, and she raised her head to watch him, surprised when he got off the bed, grasped her by the ankles and pulled her toward the foot. He knelt before her then, his eyes on hers as he flattened his tongue fully against her heat. She just about shot off the bed, but he held her still, his hands firm on her thighs, keeping her open so he could sink his tongue into her. Just when she thought he was going to go slow and torture her, he took her fast, his tongue flicking and plunging and probing until the rocketing waves built and began to crash into her over and over, building higher and higher.

He left her at the crest of one of those waves, but before she could protest, he rose over her, grasped her thighs, dragged her forward and plunged, impaling her with his rigid cock.

She gasped, bucked, shocked to be filled at the height of orgasm. He held still while she pulsed around him, the pleasure drawn out by the pressure of his unyielding flesh inside her. When she began to relax, he drew her up into his arms, his cock still firmly embedded, and put his knee on the bed. He came down on top of her with a grunt, and she arched, stunned that he was able to slide in another inch.

Breathing hard, gasping, desperate for more of him, she grasped his butt and arched her hips, encouraging him to move, to thrust. He was so hard, so hot, and the pleasure was a throbbing ache that required only a tiny amount of friction to bloom and flood yet again.

He groaned, his chest rumbling against her breasts. “If I move, I’m done. I can’t help it.”

She answered him with a flex of her inner muscles, and he gasped. “Christ, you’re evil.”

She laughed, and he growled. And then he braced above her and moved only his hips, withdrawing and plunging, again and again, while she held on to his forearms and looked up at his face, so tight with concentration, his eyes on hers. The cords in his neck were taut, his jaw set, as his thrusts became short and jerking, desperate, before he came with a harsh groan.

She flashed on his orgasm at the same time that her own crashed through her, the sensation so violently extraordinary that stars burst behind her eyes. She couldn’t think, couldn’t see, couldn’t hear. All she could do was feel, her mouth open against his shoulder in a silent scream as pleasure, intense, fantastic, staggering pleasure, roared through her body, tightening muscles so taut they felt they could snap.

When it was over, she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, stunned beyond thought as nerves she hadn’t known existed sparked with incredible, jolting aftershocks.

Noah cupped her face and kissed her, gentle, tender, loving. “You’re going to have to tell me about that one,” he murmured, “when you’re able to think again.”

She released a sound, a short laugh, tried to draw a steady breath and couldn’t. Simultaneous orgasms, his and hers, had scrambled her brain. And she didn’t care if she had a coherent thought ever again.

Noah loved her.

CHAPTER
FORTY-FOUR

C
harlie walked into AnnaCoreen’s kitchen feeling energized and relaxed, flushed and sated. Reaching for the coffee carafe, she remembered how Noah had taken her yet again against the wall in the shower, whispering in her ear how unbelievably turned-on he was by the knowledge that each time he came, she relived the blissful moment. He drew their lovemaking out until the water ran cold, slowing his thrusts just before she crested until she was digging her nails into his back and begging him to tip her over. And then he timed his climax perfectly, letting himself loose moments before she began to convulse in his arms, so that while her own pleasure rolled through her, his unfurled right on top of it, blinding and deafening her to everything but the shattering rapture that hurtled through her body.

Afterward, she was so limp that he had to tell her to hang onto him while he lathered her hair, rinsed it, then soaped her up all over. When he slipped his hand between her thighs yet again, she’d weakly shaken her head. Chuckling, he’d backed her against the wall and kissed her deeply, his tongue and lips and teeth working her up to the point where she was ready for his hand to go back to where it wanted to go. But then he’d turned off the water and began to towel her off, his hands lingering on her breasts, stroking, caressing, as though he’d become obsessed with touching her and couldn’t stop himself.

When she’d gotten dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and an airy white linen blouse on loan from AnnaCoreen, Noah watched every move. Then he mumbled that he needed to get back into the cold shower and would join her and AnnaCoreen in a few minutes.

Hearing AnnaCoreen’s approach behind her, Charlie turned. “Good morning.”

AnnaCoreen tilted her head, smiled. “My, my, but you’re looking mighty . . . refreshed.”

Charlie laughed as her face grew warm. “I am, thanks. I had a great night’s sleep.”

“Among other things,” AnnaCoreen said, then shooed her toward the door that led to the front room. “You go outside. I’ll bring you some coffee and breakfast.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Don’t be silly, girl. Of course I don’t have to.”

“Thank you,” Charlie blurted. “For last night. I . . . don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been here.”

AnnaCoreen’s movements were fluid as she filled the coffee carafe with water. “You would have gone to the emergency room. They would have assumed you were having seizures and injected you with Ativan, which would have worked more quickly than how I gave it to you.” She glanced at Charlie, smiled slightly. “For future reference. Now, go relax on the porch. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

Charlie did as she was told, fearing she would insult her hostess if she refused. On the porch, she settled into a rocking chair and breathed in the salty air. The Gulf, sparkling under the morning sun, looked restless, whitecaps forming on waves that weren’t normally so robust. She supposed she should be unsettled, too. Someone—it had to be Dick Wallace—had tried to kill her again, had almost killed Alex. But she felt safe here, protected. She figured this calm feeling wouldn’t last. Granted, Alex was going to be okay, but Charlie felt anger that someone, Dick, had hurt her sister simmering deep inside her, working its way toward the surface.

AnnaCoreen appeared by her side, bearing a cup of steaming coffee and a plate with a sliced banana and a bagel smeared with cream cheese. She set the plate on the table beside Charlie and handed her the cup of caramel-colored joe.

“Thank you,” Charlie said, wondering how AnnaCoreen had known she liked milk in her coffee, let alone that a bagel and a banana were part of her breakfast routine. She took a sip of coffee, further surprised that it was sweet.

“How did you—” She broke off, smiled. “Duh. Psychic.”

AnnaCoreen released a rich laugh as she settled onto the chair next to Charlie’s. “I just made it the way I like it, honey.”

Charlie watched her, fascinated by this woman she felt so close to yet had met only a few days ago. When the breeze blew a lock of wispy blond hair across AnnaCoreen’s cheek, she tucked it aside with a hand whose age spots and blue veins contradicted the illusion of youth that exquisite bone structure and good skin gave her face. Charlie thought of Nana and felt a pang of grief. And guilt. Nana’s garden sat untended at home, weeds no doubt already overtaking the area she’d cleared the other day.

AnnaCoreen began to rock next to her. “Your friend is very attached to you,” she said.

Charlie smiled, glad to think about Noah instead of sadness. “I know.”

“He’s a good man.”

Charlie leaned her head back, sighed. “Is he?”

“Unfortunately, he has many demons.”

“Don’t we all?”

“His are particularly . . . dark.”

“He’s a police detective. I’m sure he’s seen things that no human being should ever have to see.”

“I understand that you care for him deeply, but you would be wise to proceed cautiously.”

Charlie started to ask what in particular made her feel that way, but then Noah sauntered onto the porch in jeans and no shirt, his hair damp from his shower. He was idly scratching his rock-hard belly, and Charlie’s mind went blank at the sight of that large hand against the backdrop of rippling abdomen. That hand, those ridges, that
man
. . . as exhausted as she was from all that they had already done, she wanted him all over again. God, she thought, maybe she was in love with him.

He met her eyes then, and his gaze darkened with heat.

AnnaCoreen’s voice interrupted the direction of her thoughts. “Would you like some coffee, Noah?” She was already out of her chair and headed for the door.

“I can get it,” Noah said, not very convincingly.

AnnaCoreen waved over her shoulder. “Be right back.”

Alone with Noah, Charlie leaned her head against the wooden slats of the rocking chair, content to do nothing but drink in the glory of his naked chest. Her heart began a sensuous thud, as though her body recognized and responded to its mate.

He ambled over to her, a secret smile teasing his mouth as he leaned down to kiss her. He eased her coffee cup from her hands just before his lips brushed hers. At contact, she was transported back to the shower.

She returned to herself gasping and found Noah, who’d braced one hand on the arm of the chair while he sipped her coffee, hovering over her with a self-satisfied grin.

She released a breathless, shaky laugh, her heart thumping, her body humming.

Noah straightened as AnnaCoreen returned and handed him a cup. “Thanks,” he said as he set Charlie’s on the table next to her chair and drank from his own. “Ah, black just like I like it.”

Charlie blinked up at him, still struggling to focus. Was it possible for too much pleasure to turn your brain to mush?

AnnaCoreen’s chair creaked as she sat down. “I’m not one to rain on parades, but until we know more about Charlie’s flash fatigue, you two should probably . . . take it down a notch.”

Charlie tore her gaze away from Noah’s, a rush of blood making her face burn. “I’m sorry?”

AnnaCoreen smiled, her eyes twinkling. “You’ve discovered a rather lovely benefit of your ability. It’s natural to want to explore the possibilities, but you know what they say about too much of a good thing.”

Charlie tried to think of a response other than uhhhh.

Noah obviously wasn’t the least bit embarrassed, because he switched gears smoothly, without even a hint of blushing. “Flash fatigue?” he asked. “What happened to Charlie last night has a name?”

“Not officially,” AnnaCoreen said. “But I’m fairly certain it’s something we’ll have to deal with again. It’s best to be prepared for the next time.”

Charlie’s brain finally engaged, triggered by a potentially disturbing realization. “Can we back up a minute?”

AnnaCoreen’s knowing expression seemed to say, Welcome back from the land of bliss. “Of course.”