Killing Secrets (22 page)

She cried out and thrust more fully into his hand.

Gently pinching her nipple through two layers of cloth, he was rewarded with another demanding cry. Anchoring Rachel between his aching body and the wall, his left hand flat beside her head, he trailed his free hand down her sweet curves to the bottom of the shawl she was wearing over his old football jersey. He slowly gathered the material upward until he uncovered bare skin.

He froze. “You’re not wearing panties.” The words scraped like gravel in his throat.

“Is that a problem?”

“Only if I had a chance in hell of sending you back to your room without taking you right here, up against this wall.”

Talking to her in his parents’ bedroom fifteen minutes ago was difficult enough when he saw how feminine and sexy she looked wearing his old jersey. It had taken everything he had to force his libidinous carcass out of the room. Once he realized she’d gone commando beneath all of that innocence—

“No chance,” Rachel said, her sultry smile cutting him off at the knees.

He cursed when she pulled his T-shirt from his waistband and the back of her knuckles seared his bare stomach. “Not here,” he ground out. He took her hand and dragged her through the nearest doorway. With the light from the hallway guiding him across his brother, Ben’s old bedroom, he led Rachel to the queen-sized, brass bed. He tossed the coverlet aside and eased her onto the cool sheets.

When he started to follow her down, she stopped him. “Shut the door?”

“Let me see you, Rachel.”

“Please? No lights?” She stared up at him and shrugged. “I-I don’t want you to see my scars.”

Patrick’s insides twisted. He wanted to tell her the scars didn’t make him want her any less, but he didn’t think she was ready to hear how close to the edge he was. He walked to the door and closed it, shutting off the glow of light from the hall lamp. With the heavy drapes drawn on this side of the house, it was difficult to see much. But he knew every square foot of his family home so he walked back to the bed, pulling his T-shirt over his head on the way. He tossed it in the general direction of the chair before joining Rachel on the bed.

“Wait. Could you put the baby monitor somewhere?”

He hadn’t noticed she was carrying anything besides the mirror. Hesitating, he remembered why Rachel had come to Denver…and it wasn’t to satisfy his demanding libido
.
Whatever she’d said in the hallway, she wasn’t ready for this. She couldn’t be. “Amanda needs you.”

Rachel tucked the monitor in his palm. “It picks up a whisper, remember?” she said. “Buckwheat’s with her, too. Just put it on the nightstand.”

The dog would guard Amanda with his life, Patrick knew, but—” Are you sure?”

“Please,” Rachel said.

The urgency he heard in her Southern drawl convinced him, so he did as she asked. Then, lying on his side, he brought her flush with his rigid length, straining his zipper. She sighed. Her hands drifted over him, cool flutters over his scorching skin. Every touch made his muscles contract, each caress building on the next, until he ached for release.

When she flicked his nipple with a fingernail, a punch of lust ripped a ragged path to his balls. They tightened unbearably inside his jeans, the heavy material the only thing that kept him from plunging into Rachel like a randy teenager. He sucked in air when her hand grazed the bandage covering the nine stitches Sam stapled into his side on Thursday.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

“Not as much as it will if you stop touching me,” he admitted with a small laugh. “You’ll just have to be gentle with me.”

Aching to have her naked—and soon—he fumbled with the knot between her breasts and released the shawl. Unwrapping her like a present, he tossed the material over the side of the bed to the floor. His football jersey quickly followed. Rachel finally naked in his arms, he forced himself to slow down. He’d been dreaming of this woman forever. He was going to take his time.

He nuzzled her fragrant skin over her collar bone, the tops of each breast, around her nipples never quite touching them. He played with her until she arched closer in demand. Only then did he draw her into his mouth. He suckled one nipple, wrapped his tongue around it and tugged until the tip grew hard and distended.

“Oh!” She quickly released the top button on his jeans, the rasp of the zipper loud in the dark room. Her hand dipped behind the waistband of his briefs and cupped him. She whispered his name. “Patrick.”

The air around him was laced with the scent of desire, lilacs, and Rachel. He wanted to see her, but somehow the darkness that surrounded them forced him to use his other senses which made each sensation stronger. More intense. With each stroke of her fingers, he lost another piece of his mind.

Her skin grazing his, the slender curve of her butt firm in his hand felt as good, no,
better,
than he’d imagined. He’d dreamt of making love to Rachel for days. He longed to make all of his fantasies a reality, kiss her from head to toe and back again. Explore her secret places. Find her sweet spot. Make her scream with her climax.

He wanted to look into her angel-soft, brown eyes and watch her come apart. Then, he’d finally,
finally
push inside her and put out the fire that had only flamed higher each day he was around her.

The image of Rachel sheathed tight around him, crying out as she reached for her orgasm, pulled a frustrated growl from his throat. The woman made him crazy stupid. He didn’t have a condom!

There might still be one hidden in a corner of his old dresser down the hall, but if he found it, did he dare trust Rachel’s protection to fourteen-year-old latex? She rocked her heat against him, his dilemma becoming more urgent by the second.

A voice whispered in his head.
Shuck your jeans and just claim her. Hard. Fast. Damn the consequences.

“Rachel, stop,” he said loud enough to smack down his libido. He caught her shoulders and gently pushed her away. “I can’t do this.”

She froze. “I-I—” A heartbeat passed before she whispered. “You don’t want me. It’s the scars, isn’t it? Even in the dark…oh, God!”

When she tried to scramble off the bed, he pulled her back. A mistake. The position made it difficult to think coherently. “It’s not the scars, sweetheart. I don’t have a condom.”

“Oh.”

He felt her relax. “There are other ways,” he said, unable to let her go.

“It’s okay,” she said at the same time.

“What?” Patrick wished the moon shone through the drawn curtains so he could see her expression. “Honey, I have to protect you.”

“I’m clean. So, unless you have a disease,” she stopped to lick a sensitive spot below his ear, “we’re good.” She traced an erotic path to the hollow at the base of his throat. Her tongue dipped into the indentation there.

His throat tightened. Trying to talk a woman out of making love to him was a new experience for him. It would help if his dick wasn’t still waiting impatiently for him to get on with the program.
She’s good. You’re good. What’s the hold up?

Swallowing a curse, his heart raced. He wanted to accept Rachel’s assurance at face value. If he couldn’t see her, he wanted to feel her.
Really
feel her without anything between them. But, that way lay stupidity and he just couldn’t—

“I can’t…get pregnant,” she said, nipping his skin.

“We can’t depend on the time of the month, Rachel. And I sure don’t think I’ll have the willpower to pull out once I’m inside you, not that
that
method is foolproof either.”

She stilled, drew back. “You don’t understand. I can’t get pregnant. At all. Ever.” She paused. “I’m infertile.”

How could this vibrant woman be infertile? Had something happened after Amanda was born? Patrick knew he should feel relief at the news it was safe to give in to his base impulses. Moments ago, he’d been dying to be buried deep inside her, protection or not. But now, all he could think about was how beautiful she’d look growing huge with a child. His child
.

He was taking too long to respond, but the notion of Rachel carrying his baby stunned him. It was one thing to want her in his bed. It was something else when he thought about making her a permanent fixture in his life. He’d made a vow—

“It’s safe. Can’t we leave it at that and take this moment?”

He wanted to, desperately, but— “Tell me again that you want this.”

“Oh, I want this,” she said, “more than you know.”

Out of arguments, he gave in to what they both wanted. “Come here, then,” he said, kissing her until they both struggled for air.

Rachel’s mouth caressed a searing path over the too tight skin right above his heart, his ribs and lower. His muscles jumped. He could barely think. Only breathe. And feel. Until he knew he had to quench this scorching desire in this woman soon or die. “Rachel!”

She pushed his jeans and briefs down together, and he sprang free. He groaned when she gave the tip of his shaft a lingering caress.

He kicked his jeans over the side of the bed and rolled Rachel beneath him. Their tongues tangled, mated. Rachel’s legs wrapped around his hips, and he groaned with pleasure, riding the edge of his control.

“Honey, slow down. There’s no hurry.” Capturing her wrists, he carried them over her head.

With a gasp, she went completely rigid beneath him. It took a moment for the blood to return to his brain. Realizing what he’d done—this first time had to be about her pleasure, not his—he released her wrists. “I won’t hurt you, Rach,” he murmured. “Just tell me what you want. Show me what you need.”

“I-I’m no good at this.”

He heard her insecurity, felt it deep inside his gut. It took everything in him not to leave the bed and go track down Rachel’s ex-husband. He wanted to hurt him for crushing the sensual creature he knew was inside her. The woman brought Patrick to his knees without trying, and she seemed completely unaware of her power over him.

“Just do what feels good.” He rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of him. Her long, slim legs straddled his hips, bringing them together in too many ways that tested his control. But he raised his hands to the pillow above his head. “I won’t touch you unless you ask me,” he said. “Take what you want, whatever gives you pleasure.”

For an eternity, Rachel couldn’t think. She was too aware of the way she fit atop Patrick, like she’d been made just for him, for this moment. The heat building at her core burned away the anxiety that had rushed inside her when he’d held down her wrists. She knew making love with Patrick would be different—she’d counted on it—but she hadn’t expected the exquisite fire between them. It was exhilarating…and a little scary.

It wasn’t until that moment she realized Patrick could hurt her so much worse than Greg ever had. And those scars wouldn’t be visible on her body. They’d be imbedded in her soul. She’d fallen for Patrick and that made him much more dangerous.

What was more frightening? She didn’t care. She wanted him anyway. If it hurt her later to leave him behind, she’d still have this one night.

“Rachel?” His chest rumbled under her palms where she leaned over him.

“I’m okay,” she said. Her sensitized breasts skimmed the hair on his chest as she bent down to kiss him.

She might not know what to do or ask for, but she loved kissing this man. She took her time stroking his mouth with hers, pressing her tongue to the seam of his lips, and silently begged him to let her in. When he didn’t respond, she moaned her frustration. “Kiss me back.”

He didn’t hesitate. His head lifted off the pillow as he seduced her mouth. He sipped. He nipped her lower lip. Their tongues tangled for several glorious moments…until it wasn’t enough.

“Touch me,” she demanded.

“Where?”

Patrick’s question rasped through the darkness and, for the first time, she wished the lights were on so she could see his face, witness the passion lining his masculine features. She could hear it in his voice, feel it in the way he hardened beneath her. “Anywhere,” she whispered. “Everywhere.”

Without light, she didn’t see his hands. It made his touch that much more intense. The fire inside her blazed higher with each touch of his hands on her waist, over her belly, upward to her breasts. He caressed slowly, exploring her like he was memorizing it by touch alone. By the time he reached her breasts and held them in his palms, she couldn’t stifle a whimper. His thumbs scraped back and forth over the tips of her breasts. “More!”

He tweaked her nipples and she felt the tug between her thighs where he was cradled. Her legs squeezed his hips. She rocked up and down his shaft seeking satisfaction she knew only he could give her.

“You’re killing me, Rach.”

The harsh tone of his voice stole her air and tightened her desire. His heartbeat a thundering tattoo under her hand, he took nothing more than what she was ready for. No man before Patrick had considered her feelings like this, been willing to give her pleasure at the expense of his own. She wasn’t afraid of him losing control with her, maybe never had been. This was Patrick. The man who stood between her and Greg, who protected her and Amanda without expecting anything in return. She felt like a whole woman in his arms. Wanted. Desired.

Unable to wait any longer, she leaned down and nipped his chin, her fingers moving down to clasp him. He bucked into her hand and groaned. “Then, come with me. We’ll die together, Patrick,” she said. “Love me. Now!”