A WILDer Kind of Love (26 page)

Shit.
Shit.

Too late.
Too late.

He needed this now.

Ne needed her.

His hand wound tighter into her hair. A moment before that, his balls began pounding her labia. That contact alone seared them through, doubling their weight, swelling them to excruciating pressure. His chest worked to get air. His abdomen drew tight. His ass clenched and shuddered.

Heavier. Harder. Deeper. Fuller. His lust built and pounded, hammered and thundered, climbing as he read all the signs in Tess’s frame, too. Her coiled arms. Her high, hurting pants. The twin points of her nipples, blown to the realm of fantasy-come-true via her shadow on the wall.

She froze as if seizing. Screamed without sound. Threw her head back with eyes squeezed shut, neck taut and strained.

As her body vibrated hard around him.

Milking the hot, mindless explosion up his cock and out of his body.

It flowed forever, yet only an instant. Consumed him, yet detached him. His senses rocketed, but floated. Where was he?
Who
was he? What day was it? He seriously wondered if he’d ever be capable of linear logic again.

He seriously questioned if he ever wanted to be.

With that dream-within-a-dream-within-a-dream weirdness, a scythe of all-too-real horror swooshed in.

If
he
wasn’t going to be the same after this, what had it all done to Tess?

What had
he
done to her?

And how the hell was he going to fix it—without completely ruining her?

‡

“S
ir?”

“Hmmm?”

“I’m onto you, you know.”

His hands halted on the curves of her shoulders. His fingertips dug in while he sucked in a sharp breath. In most situations, Tess would gauge the reaction as alarm. This wasn’t most situations. Not by a long shot.

“I’m…not sure I follow.” His tone turned as stiff as his stature. Yeah, she could tell even with her eyes closed and her brain half-baked.

Guilt invaded. It wasn’t fair, turning him the texture of an icicle while she had become a ball of mush—because of him.

She came clean by teasing, “You think I don’t know that aftercare isn’t always like this?”

His tension drained. “Hush and eat your strawberry.”

“Huh?
What
straw—” She was silenced by a mouthful of perfect sweetness. The berry tasted so good that she nibbled to get more, moaning in ecstasy. “Oh, wow,” she finally mumbled. She didn’t remember seeing any food when they first arrived, but half her brain was still back in the dungeon, lost in the tangle of sensations he’d rained on her in the scene.

She’d never, in her life, experienced anything like it.

Now, she just didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“Another?” Sexy ran another berry along her bottom lip. Tess opened and dutifully bit the fruit.

She yearned to help him out, to at least pick up her own damn strawberries, but convincing her body it really wasn’t a noodle? New tune altogether. Like her limbs could be blamed after he’d peeled her off the whipping bench, gathered her into his arms then refused to set her down until stepping into this opulent chamber, slipping her into the heated waters of this subterranean bathing pool. If she’d regained any rational thought in her head since her orgasms, it vanished as soon as the eucalyptus steam filled her senses and the lavender bubbles nipped at her body.

Doubling the whammy was the man himself, instructing her to lay tummy-down on the pool’s seating shelf while he ran a natural sponge from her shoulders to her ankles. She damn near fell asleep on him like that, but protested and sat back up—only to have him frame her from behind, leathered legs in the water to either side, as he flowed vanilla and rosemary leaves over her shoulders in long, adoring glides. And now, the hand-feeding with the fruit…

Paradise.

The Native Americans liked to say that it was captured in the small moments of life, often so tiny that they went missed. Tess closed her eyes and chewed, grateful she’d been looking closely enough to recognize this one. So perfect. So profound. So complete…

With a man she barely knew.

But had known forever.

Of course.

The concept crashed in, broadsiding her psyche—exploding her heart. The helpless thing didn’t know what hit it, thrashing against her ribs.

This is insane. Just a result of all the chemicals from the scene colliding in your brain, a high that’s going to bring you an even harder drop than last weekend—an inevitability you can’t put off now.

Maybe Mother and Father were always right. Maybe you’re just a dreamer who simply wants perfection too damn much.

But what if it was the only explanation that really made sense?

What if they
hadn’t
just met by accident?

What if some crazy “higher power” had really brought him across the room to her that night—when others had had the chance for two whole nights before that? How else could she justify how instantly right it felt to be standing at his side…following him to private dungeon space…surrendering to him without fear or hesitation? How else had
he
known exactly what needs she had as a submissive…all the dark, wicked parts of herself that wanted to be tested, pushed, shattered?

And why else was she lingering in the warmth of this moment and the heat of him, instead of asking for her clothes and seeking the nearest exit back to the safety of reality?

Because reality didn’t feel so safe anymore.

Because he began that dribbling water thing over her shoulders again, and it felt

so

damn

good.

Because it felt safer to lean back into the broad strength of his chest once again, challenging in a murmur, “You didn’t answer my question.”

This time, his fingers didn’t stop. “Which one?”

She splashed him. His leathers were already drenched to the calves; a little more H2O wouldn’t hurt. “How about the
only
one?”

“Wasn’t that rhetorical?” After she sent more water flying up, he chuckled. The sound, filtered by the voice disk, was as decadent as the kiss he lowered to her nape. “Shut it off, babe. Typical aftercare is for typical submissives. And you are far, far from typical.”

Her lips parted to reply. No words brimmed. Not a syllable. Dammit, she needed just one go-to line, something coy and smooth and elegant. The Charlie to his Maverick.
Tell me, are you a…good pilot
? But even Charlie had eventually peeled off her seamed stockings, and this man had exposed so much more of her than that. In the last couple of hours, she’d shown him more of herself than most people saw over years. It was more than just the steamy naked stuff. It was the baring of her soul—the parts of her that were womanly and vulnerable, a little scared yet yearning to battle free from those limits, too.

He had seen it all. Understood it all.

He’d freed it all.

And that scared the living crap out of her.

He couldn’t have it all
. Nobody could. She’d divvied her life into clean compartments for a reason—a damn good one. If one of the sections collapsed, the others would remain intact. Nothing to get hurt. Everything safe, by the rules. That had even explained her initial fascination with BDSM and submission. She could dress pretty, follow the rules, obey the orders, and get a prize. Hell, the best prize of them all.

But now she knew the truth. It was about so much more than that.
Too
much.

The broadside hit again. Her senses rebelled, unable to process anything more. She tensed, knowing the griffin would surely notice the change in her muscles. His indrawn breath betrayed that he did. Panic grabbed deeper. She couldn’t let him get in the verbal kicker again. He’d say something magical and wonderfully captivating, then add a soft kiss or ten to ensure her bones were fully liquefied.

And she’d never get out of tonight without half her soul missing.

“I’m getting prune fingers in here.” Not the greatest but an acceptable start. “I’d better start thinking of—”

going home.

The words were ditched as soon as the man lifted her from the water, turned her in his arms, and swathed her in a huge towel.
Home
might just need a new definition tonight. She was so warm. Calm. Safe. Though her condo had a killer view of Red Rock and a kitchen to make any foodie drool, nothing about returning to it felt like a blanket to get lost in, a safe harbor in which to drop anchor.

Nothing about Sir Sexy should have, either.

But everything about him…did.

Still moving as if she hadn’t said a thing, he carried her to a wide chaise-style bed tucked into an alcove near the pool. A mountain of gold and blue pillows was arranged against the headboard. Near the foot, another ornate serving tray supported more food—correction, one of the best chocolate selections she’d ever seen—along with bottles of the flavored fitness water she liked so much.

As Sexy settled her against the pillows, patterns of light were reflected from the pool, dancing over his sculpted chest and biceps—boulders in shades of aqua and white. She absorbed the sight greedily, barely resisting the urge to join those lucky light rays and fondle every inch of him.

Barely.

Resisting.

He was so damn mesmerizing…

What harm would it be to trace the edge of just one perfect pectoral? Embrace the bulge of just one sinewy shoulder?

“Just one,”? And what alternate universe are you living in, Lesange, that you think you’ll stop there
?

He became her knight in half-soaked leathers, saving her from herself by climbing in for the perfect spoon, instead. Nestling her head into the crook of his shoulder, he curled up one hand to finger-comb her hair. His other hand snuck beneath the towel, lightly stroking the curve of her thigh.

It was a textbook finish to quite possibly the best night of her life—doubling her guilt for letting a frustrated huff break free.

“Okay,” the griffin murmured. “Talk to me.” He synched up his touches, matching the massages of her scalp to his fingertips’ spider act on her hip.

Here it was. Her open door of opportunity. She just hadn’t expected it
that
wide. His insistence on the mask, on the voice alteration, on using nicknames for her most of the time, and even the burner phone he’d used to call her from yesterday (yeah, she’d checked in spite of herself)…none of those factors were huge screams for the Great Tess Inquisition. In short, she’d come to this part of things completely unprepared.

Can I use my phone call to a friend, please
? She smiled in spite of herself, wondering exactly what Dan would say about all of this.

“Rose?”

She tilted her head, responding to his undertone of alarm, discernible despite the voice disk. “I’m just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About how to broach the subject that I barely know you.”

She didn’t anticipate that would surprise him. Sure enough, neither of his hands faltered. He only shifted an inch, pressing closer behind her. “Do you really believe that?”

Every syllable he uttered was like a kiss of completion. Every breath he pushed against her neck was matched by one from her own lungs. In so many ways, he was right.
They
were so right.

“I don’t even know your real name,” she persisted.

“And
I
know
yours
?”

He had a point—at least halfway. She tried to push away. He locked his arm around her waist. She capitulated, facing the futility of resistance. Okay, so there was the newness factor about feeling up an eight-pack with her ass. There had to be some scientific value to the world in that research. She was willing to take the step for humanity.

“I—I work for the government,” she stated. “I have to be careful. I rely on the trust and respect of others to get my job accomplished. While my free time choices should have no bearing on that—”

“It’s not always the case.” He finished for her in a deep mutter. “I understand.”

Just like that, he’d cracked open his door a little more. “You do, don’t you?” she returned.

Was
that
why he needed total anonymity? Was his day job just as intense as hers? Maybe moreso? Was he a high-ranking officer from Nellis? An elected city official? A famous performer from one of the shows on the Strip? Even in Vegas, public perception was a huge quotient of acceptance. Kink was still “wrong” to so many. In short, one could sin in the City of Sin as long as they were nobody.

“I’m sorry,” she offered. “This is just strange for me. Sharing what we’ve shared, twice now—”

“Which won’t change in importance if we exchange birth certificate details,” Sexy interjected. Though humor laced his voice, she also felt the intent beneath it—how strongly he stressed the word “importance”.

“You’re right.”

Obeying a sudden impulse, she tilted her head back, seeking his kiss. He obliged readily, forming his mouth to hers though keeping tongues totally out of the picture. Even so, her core awakened for him again. Her tunnel constricted in need. Unbelievably, it was one of the hottest kisses they’d ever shared.