“He didn’t have to see.” Macey’s voice dropped, the arousal that still burned in his eyes brightening as his gaze flickered over her body. “The position of my head was self-explanatory. And if you don’t stop pushing me, sweetheart, you’re going to find my lips there again, and next time, I won’t stop. Now, go shower, crawl into bed, and stop arguing with me. Arguing with you just makes me harder.”
It made him harder? It was making her wetter. And if she didn’t get out of this secured basement that he called a cave and away from him, then it was going to make her jump feet-first into a relationship that she knew had the potential to break her heart.
He didn’t want her, he wanted her body. He didn’t want her heart, he just wanted sex. And reminding herself wasn’t easy when he was standing there, his jeans straining with his erection, his gaze hot and hungry. She was terribly afraid that reminding herself was going to do very little good.
FOUR
“COME ON, WE BOTH need to get some rest.” Macey forced himself to ignore the hard-on torturing him. He had his pet snake to put away before she went to bed. Drack was his defense. It hated guns, and anyone with the ability to access his cave would no doubt be packing a gun. He didn’t think Emerson would appreciate curling up with a full-grown anaconda on her first night here.
Besides, there was something in her eyes that pricked at his heart, that had him releasing her slowly and stepping back. Not exactly fear of him, but there was fear there, uncertainty, innocence. And the look didn’t make sense to him.
He knew she’d had lovers before, he’d made it his business to know. He knew her medical history and the fact that she had lost her virginity between the ages of eighteen and nineteen.
She wasn’t promiscuous, but he knew she wasn’t a prude. Unfortunately, she might be too damned innocent for the likes of him, because the things he wanted to do with her would have had a call girl blushing.
She didn’t speak as he turned away and opened the bedroom door. Flipping the lights on, Macey had to clench his teeth against the sight of the huge bed across the room: plenty large enough for two people to play some hellaciously erotic games on.
Dumb thought, he told himself, shaking his head as he felt her move into the room cautiously.
Striding to the walk-in closet, he pulled one of his t-shirts from one of the drawers built in beneath the hanging clothes. From another drawer he pulled free a pair of his sister Stacey’s cotton leggings. She was always leaving clothes scattered around the upper level of the house.
Moving from the closet he glanced at where Emerson stood in the center of the room, staring around it, resignation filling her face.
She might as well resign herself to it. Other than the bolt hole, this place was locked up tighter than Fort Knox. There was no getting in and no getting out without his help.
“Shower’s in here.” He moved to the door at the far end of the room, opened it, and flipped the lights on. “Towels and washrags are under the sink, fresh soap, both bar and that shower gel gunk my sister likes, is on the shelf beside the tub. Get whatever you need.”
“Now you have a sister, too.” She was leaning against the doorframe, looking around the bathroom with hazel eyes that were gleaming a brighter green than before. “Guess you weren’t hatched after all, Macey.”
“Guess I wasn’t,” he drawled, his lips quirking as he watched white, sharp little teeth nibble at her lower lip.
She was nervous. He rarely saw Emerson nervous, and had never seen her uncertain, until now. Seeing it in her made him want to kill. It made him wish he was hunting terrorists with Nathan and drawing their blood. It plain pissed him off that Emerson would know so much as a moment of uncertainty or fear.
He watched as she backed out of the doorway and turned to the bedroom again. Her shoulders were stiff, her head held high, and as he moved around her he caught the flicker of indecision on her face. “I want you to promise me you won’t try to leave while I’m trying to sleep, Em.”
“I am not stupid, Macey.”
“I didn’t say you were stupid,” he assured her. “But you’re headstrong as hell. The admiral gave the orders, sweetheart; calling him or trying to run to him isn’t going to do anything but endanger your life. And if I have to stand and listen to another bastard strike you, I just might have to lose my temper.”
He reached out to run the backs of his fingers over the bruise that had formed on her cheek, remembering the killing rage that had swept through him when he heard the blow.
“It wouldn’t do a lot for me, either,” she assured him, pulling away from him as a flush brightened her cheeks and renewed arousal glittered in her eyes.
Oh, she was hot. As hot as he was and just as ready for bedroom aerobics as he was; she was just more cautious.
Macey caught her arm as she turned away from him, holding her steady as her gaze flashed back to his. Wide, wary, her eyes glittered like emeralds and threatened to ensnare him in a web of arousal.
“I told you this wasn’t a good idea.” Her breath hitched as he curled his arm around her waist and pulled her to his body once more.
He couldn’t help it. He needed to feel her breasts against his chest again, needed the taste of her kiss going to his head like potent liquor.
“It’s the only idea.”
Her lips parted, whether to protest or meet his kiss he wasn’t certain, so he took the kiss.
It was late. Weariness was dragging at both of them, but he couldn’t help it; one more taste, one more touch, that was all he needed. His head lowered, his lips touching hers gently as he stared into her eyes. He didn’t take the kiss this time, he eased into it, eased her into it. He licked at her lips until they parted further. He nipped at the lower curve and felt her ragged breath of response, watched her lashes flutter as her hands clenched on his upper arms.
And he felt that tight clench in his heart again, the one that had warned him years ago that Emerson’s touch went deeper than flesh. Deeper than bone.
Macey could tell that she didn’t know whether to push him away or to pull him closer to her. Her breathing was harsh, irregular, those temptingly full breasts moving against his chest heavily. He wanted to fill his hands with them, feel her hard little nipples against his tongue again. He wanted to devour her.
“Macey, please …” A whisper-soft plea fell from her lips as he licked over them, her eyes dilating, the small ring of green darkening in arousal.