Taking the Heat (Shadow Stalkers #2)

Taking the Heat (Shadow Stalkers #2) Page 4

“Fuck it.”

“Yeah, I got that from the lube—”

“Shut up.” He walked to the bed, grabbed the box of condoms, and tossed them across the room into the trash can. Digging into the suitcase carrying the toiletries, he searched for the personal lubricant.

She watched him. She ate her burger and fries. And she got hotter by the minute. He was seething, so damn passionate in his aggravation and embarrassment. She’d rarely seen him like this out of bed.

“Where is it?” he barked.

“If I promise to be a good girl and stop picking at you, will you come back and eat?”

“Don’t patronize me!”

“I’m sorry.”

He held up a hand to ward off any further words.

“Really,” she pressed. “Can I help it if I want to see if I can still get under your skin?”

“As if you ever got out from under it.” He pointed an accusing finger at her. “Don’t look so damned shocked! I’m not the one who split us up.”

“Aren’t you?”

“No, damn it. I’m not. I was in it for the long haul.”

Layla shook her head, her own ire rising. “’Til death do us part doesn’t add up to much when you can be dead any minute.”

“Don’t.” He stalked closer, vibrating with all the emotions he was usually so adept at leashing. “It’s five years later, baby. I’m still breathing.”

“Only because we’re not together. If you haven’t noticed, men don’t live long around me.”

Brian stopped two steps away. “You can’t be serious.”

She shrugged and closed the lid of her box, her appetite gone. “Your food’s getting cold.”

“If you’re a death sentence, that meal on the table isn’t the last thing I want to eat.”

Standing, she went to move around him.

He caught her arm.

“I’m tired,” she lied, achingly conscious of his grip and proximity. The top of her head was level with his shoulder. She wanted to turn into him and hold him again. Fear held her back. The fear that she wouldn’t have the strength to part from him again when the time came, which was only a couple days away.

Pressing a quick, hard kiss to her forehead, he released her.

She brushed her teeth, then climbed into bed. Brian gathered up what he needed and headed into the bathroom to shower. She feigned sleep when he slipped between the sheets and curled up behind her. Soaking up his warmth and the comfort of his embrace, she finally shut off the horrible images in her mind and drifted off.

Chapter 4

Layla’s soft cry of distress woke Brian a moment before she jerked violently in his arms.

“Baby,” he murmured, jostling her carefully. “Wake up. It’s okay.”

Her short nails dug into the forearm he had draped over her waist. She gasped and turned into his chest, burying her face against his bare skin.

“It’s okay,” he said again, running his hands up and down her spine to soothe her trembling. “I’ve got you.”

She pushed him to his back and climbed over him, clinging to his torso like a crab.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked quietly, glancing at the clock on the nightstand. It was just past two in the morning.

“No,” she mumbled into the crook of his neck. “Just hold me.”

“Always.” He hugged her tight.

Wriggling over him, Layla got more comfortable. The position notched her pussy directly over his cock, the heat of her flesh burning through her boy-short underwear and his boxer briefs. His dick responded despite his strenuous efforts to keep it in check. When it came to Layla, he’d never been able to control his reactions to her—bodily or otherwise.

He knew the moment she became aware of his hard-on. She tensed slightly, her breathing hitching a moment, before continuing with a cautious tempo that was obviously considered.

“Ignore that,” he said.

Instead, she rolled her hips, stroking herself with the hard length of his cock. With her lips to his skin, she whispered, “It’s too big to ignore.”

Her tongue flicked over his throat and he cursed, his body tightening.

“Layla . . .” he warned.

Her hands slid down the sides of his chest to his waist. “Here’s a tip, tough guy: You’re about to get laid.”

Christ. Brian’s eyes squeezed shut. He wanted her so badly his teeth ached with it, but adrenalized by a nightmare wasn’t the state of mind he wanted her in when they finally went at each other.

But Layla wasn’t the kind of woman to be deterred, especially when it came to sex. And when she slid down his body and her teeth scraped lightly over the flat disk of his nipple, Brian lost the will to deny her.

Her tongue licked over the sensitive flesh and he jolted with a grunt.

“Watch it, baby,” he growled. “You know what it’s like with me when it’s been a while since I’ve had you.”

She wouldn’t have forgotten. He’d sometimes been overseas on a mission for months at a time. When he came home to her, she knew to have a cleared schedule and the kitchen stocked, because they wouldn’t be leaving his house for days.

“God, you’re sexy, Brian,” she said with a low moan and unmistakable note of resentment. “I get wet and needy just looking at you.”

And he was apparently going to pay for that. The way she reached between them and squeezed his erection wasn’t tender or tentative. It was firm and demanding. The stroke of her palm up and down was quick and forceful.

“Just thinking about you does it for me,” he said gruffly, startled when she lifted off him and slid out of bed.

“Get naked.”

Her sharp order had his blood raging. She’d been a virgin the first time he’d had her and that first encounter had set the tone for their sexual relationship—he led, she followed. That was the way he liked it—and she as well—but he was more than willing to let her have some fun. Shit, he was very willing. “Bring it on, baby.”

As he lifted his hips and pushed off his boxer briefs, Brian heard her undressing. The lamp on the nightstand rattled as she bumped into it, but she was too focused to complain. Focused on him. On fucking him.

He’d never seen her like this. When it came to Layla, he was easily seduced. A heated glance or a coaxing, “Brian, honey . . .” was all the encouragement he required to have a rock-hard dick and a spurring impatience to find some privacy. But right now, she was running the show and going full throttle, and he was going to let her—for a little while—and just enjoy the ride.

Layla returned to him in a rush of silken limbs and warm, soft woman. His woman. The only thing in the world he’d ever felt truly belonged to him. And he’d let her walk away. Because he had shit for brains. No man in his right mind would have let that happen.

He tried to catch her, to kiss her, but she was sliding lower, her beautiful perfect tits caressing his abdomen the whole way down. Reaching up, Brian fisted each side of his pillow, wishing the light was on so he could watch her suck him. There was something in her eyes when she gave him head, a softness and vulnerability that flayed him open. They connected when they were intimate with each other, in a way he’d never known was possible until she had shown him. He couldn’t explain it—the way her pleasure became his own, the way his joy made her happy, the way the need to touch and taste became as necessary as breathing. He just knew that he’d lost the ability to be happy when he lost her, that he had stopping living and just barely managed to make it through each day without her.

She gripped his throbbing cock in her hand, her slender fingers not quite able to surround him. Her partial clasp was a torture all its own and he groaned, so thick and sensitive he knew he wasn’t going to last long. She pumped him a few times with her fist, priming him, bringing the first drops of pre-cum to the tip. The moment her tongue licked across the engorged crest, he cursed.

“I’ll let you play, sweetheart,” he bit out, as her breath blew hot over the dampness she’d left behind. “But now’s not the time to tease.”

Her fingers massaged his balls, gently tugging at their tautened weight. “You’re the one who says it’s no fun when you rush.”

“Who’s rushing?” Gripping her by the hair, he arched his hips and nudged her lips with the crown of his dick. “I’ll be fucking you’til sunrise.”

Brian felt the little shiver that moved through her. Once they took the edge off, they’d settle in for a slow, deep ride. She knew how it would be. The intensity. The intimacy. The unbearable pleasure. He couldn’t wait to get there. He’d been dying in slow degrees ever since she took that away from him.

She touched the back of his thigh. “Spread your legs and bend this knee. Let me get comfortable.”

“You won’t be down there long enough to get uncomfortable. You’re just going to ease me back a bit, so I don’t bruise your tight little pussy on our first go-round.”

He swore he could feel her smile. And then her sassy mouth was engulfing him and his head pressed back into the pillow, his gut knotting from the heated pleasure. “Fuck, yeah.”

Layla took him deeper, her mouth so hot and tight he spurted a wash of pre-cum over her wicked fluttering tongue. She moaned and swallowed, sucking hungrily for more.

“That’s it, baby,” he said hoarsely. “Suck my dick . . . Ah, God.”

Eyes closed and teeth clenched tight, Brian’s mind spun from how damn good it felt. Her head lifted and lowered, her lips sliding slickly up and down, her fist pumping him at the root. As if she was starved for the taste of him.

The pressure in his balls increased when her mouth drew hard on his cockhead. Her fingers left his scrotum, sliding lower, the pads of her index and middle finger stroking over the pucker of his ass.

He tensed in surprise. Her hand withdrew, her lips curving around his cock.

“Witch,” he hissed.