Prescription: Makeover (17 page)

A chill spun through Ike, a dash of reality in an unreal situation. She straightened, unlinking her fingers from his. When he turned towards her, she said, “Of course. I should —”

He framed her face between his hands and kissed her. His palms were warm, his lips hot and demanding, melting the ice in an instant and bringing her blood to a boil.

When he ended the kiss and looked down at her, his expression clouded for a moment, then cleared with comprehension, though a hint of sadness remained behind. “You thought I was talking about the case.” He kissed her again, taking her under with nothing more than his lips and his tongue and his gentle touch. “I wish you trusted me more than that.”

Shame washed through her, along with the knee-jerk slap of irritation that she used as self-preservation. “I —”

He silenced her with a searching kiss that turned her insides to liquid heat. When she sagged against him, he said, “Do you really want to fight right now? I don’t. I’d rather we try something new together.”

“As long as it involves both of us getting naked,” Ike said, clinging to the hope that she could keep this about sex and not something more complicated, something neither of them was ready for.

He grinned against her mouth. “Now we’re on the same page.”

He stepped out of his shoes, jeans and boxers, unbuttoned her pants and slid a testing, toying hand inside. He paused when he found her bare beneath.

Ike smiled as her blood drummed hard in her ears and heat pooled beneath his fingertips. “Surprise. Another of my idiosyncrasies.”

“Panties make you claustrophobic?”

It was more that going commando had been yet another way to feel different and dangerous. Acting out sexually had been a way to play for her parents’ attention after Donny’s death. She’d thought they’d have to pry themselves out of their grief to deal with her if she made enough noise, if she acted tough enough, slept around enough, got in enough trouble.

In the end, all she’d gotten was a slutty reputation and twice-a-week counseling from a school employee with a bad comb-over.

“Let’s just say that Eleanor wears panties,” she murmured against his mouth. “Cotton ones with bunnies and hearts on them.”

Okay, that was a bit of an exaggeration, but she needed to be sure he knew the difference, that he knew he was having sex with her, Ike, not Eleanor or some sort of hybrid between the two women.

“Nothing wrong with bunnies and hearts,” he said. Then he slid her pants down in a smooth move he’d probably practiced since early teen hood. “But I’m liking the commando thing. Makes it easier to do this.”

Before she could anticipate, he dropped to his knees in front of her and looped one of her legs over his bullet-scarred shoulder, bracing her, baring her.

A hot, hard surge of lust gripped Ike when she understood his intent and she threaded her fingers through his hair, part caress, part holding on for dear life as he kissed a path up her inner thigh and her insides went to water.

Her weight-bearing leg buckled and she nearly collapsed, saving herself by grabbing onto his shoulders, then moaning when he looped an arm around her hips, anchoring her, drawing her closer as he traced his tongue inward, parting her folds with an exquisite tenderness that made her want to weep with the sensation, scream with it. Instead she dug her fingers into his hard, muscular shoulders and parted her legs wider, inviting him to do more, to do whatever he wanted.

She could count on one hand the men she’d allowed to go down on her in the most intimate of kisses, and always before she’d hung onto some thread of herself, some essence of control. Except this time, with this man. As William bent to her, loving her with his tongue and mouth, bringing her spiraling closer and closer to the edge, she realized she was in danger of having nothing held in reserve, nothing left to protect herself with.

Then it was too late, as his mouth and plundering hands found their rhythm, driving her up higher and higher still, until the pleasure vised her lungs and she was locked within the tingling, burning mix of sensation and almost painful longing that presaged orgasm. It came at her in a rush, stealing her breath and contracting her being until there was nothing but the tingling heat, and the man kneeling before her, worshiping her with his mouth.

Where before her orgasms had been hard, hot bursts she rode for all they were worth, this one slipped in almost unnoticed, pulsing and lifting her onto another level of feeling as it built and built, ever-expanding waves of pleasure that burst inside, growing in intensity until she wanted to weep.

Since that would be giving in to the pleasure, giving it more power than she was willing, she kept the tears at bay by pressing her eyelids tightly together. But she didn’t stop the cries, the moans and gasps, the sound of his name on her lips.
William.

She sagged against him as the waves lessened, remaining as pulsating aftershocks. He slid her leg from his shoulder to his waist and stood, hitching her other leg up so she could lock her ankles together above his taut buttocks, her hands still on his shoulders. With her wrapped around him, he strode to the bed. He lowered her gently and followed her down, and she heard the crinkle of plastic and the snap of latex, though she couldn’t have said when he’d palmed the condom or from where.

Then he aligned their bodies, and the tip of his hard, thick shaft nudged at her entrance, teasing her, pleasuring her.

Ike’s head spun, but she was aware of his body over hers, his arms braced on either side, caging her. Trapping her. She stiffened and started to voice a protest, to reverse their positions so she could bend over him and set the rhythm, control the situation.

Before she could form the words, he leaned down, touched his lips to hers and slid home.

She felt him stretch and fill her, felt the harmless hitch of pain that reminded her how long she’d been celibate — months. And how long it’d been since she’d done this with a man as large as he — years, maybe never.

Her unvoiced protest died on her lips as he withdrew and thrust again, bringing to life sensations she’d thought had been burned out by the orgasm he’d given her minutes earlier. But though she should’ve been sated and relaxed, her inner muscles grabbed onto him, stroking his length as he lowered his body so they were chest to chest, freeing his hands to grip her buttocks while he angled deeper, touching off sparks inside her.

“William, I…
Oh!
” Her words dissolved to a gasp as he rocked within her and a second orgasm began to build, clenching her with its utter, unassailable importance, with the feeling that what was happening to her was the single most vital thing in that moment. Her consciousness sucked inward, concentrating itself at the place where he bucked against her. His muscles bunched beneath her fingertips as he surged within her, deeper and deeper, until she felt as though he’d reached inside and grabbed a piece of her heart.

Panic jolted at the thought, but that hot rush was lost when her orgasm slammed through her unexpectedly, hard and fast and so intense it was almost painful. She bowed against him and cried out, her words sharp beneath the deep, guttural roar he gave when he came.

She felt him jerk within her and fold himself around her, holding her so tightly she couldn’t breathe. But breathing wasn’t necessary as her inner muscles gripped him with rhythmical pulses that matched the movements of his hard shaft and their heartbeats raced in sync.

He groaned her name, turned his head to bury his face in her neck and tightened his arms around her as the wave washed past them, leaving pleasure to echo through their bodies in long, lingering tugs.

Then those, too, faded, and Ike’s head began to clear. As it did, panic built. She was trapped beneath him, unable to breathe, unable to move or escape the slap of realizing that she’d just made a very big mistake.

She’d started off having sex and wound up making love.

O
NE MOMENT
, W
ILLIAM
was lying there, sprawled across Ike, his body buzzing from the best sex of his life and his mind reverberating with the realization that it’d quite possibly been about more than body heat and friction. The next, he found himself hanging onto a tornado.

“Off!” Ike erupted into motion, pushing at him while trying to squirm out from underneath and nearly kneeing him in the process. “Get off!”

“Whoa.” He rolled away from her and nearly onto the floor. “Settle down. What’s wrong?”

She scrambled to a crouch, then surprised the hell out of him by vaulting off the bed and plastering herself against the far wall. She crossed her arms over her body and stood there, shaking, breathing hard, eyes wild.

As he watched, she visibly gained control of herself, straightening, dropping her arms and lifting her chin so she stood there naked but no longer looking vulnerable.

William pulled himself to a sitting position and dragged a hand through his hair. He inhaled air redolent with the scent of her and said, “Okay, you want to catch me up here? What just happened?”

“I don’t generally…” She paused, then continued, but he had a feeling it wasn’t what she’d originally intended when she said, “I prefer to be on top. The other way makes me feel trapped.”

He felt an instant surge of compassion. “Sorry, I forgot about the claustrophobia. You should’ve said something sooner.”

But his apology didn’t seem to help matters. If anything, she grew more agitated, crossing the room to gather her clothes and pull them on in short, jerky motions. Dull red stained her cheeks, though he couldn’t tell if the flush was from anger or embarrassment.

Frankly he didn’t understand why she’d be either. The sex had been fantastic — they’d each come twice, for chrissakes, and there had been as much tenderness as skin on skin, if not more. Which, he realized as he watched her yank her shirt over her head, was the problem.

She never said she’d felt claustrophobic, just that she’d felt trapped, which wasn’t the same thing at all.

Knowing full well there wouldn’t be an encore, he rose and pulled on his boxers and jeans. He left his shirt off in a conscious effort to make her feel that she was better protected that he was.

Never once in the year or so he and Ike had known each other in passing or even in the past few weeks as they’d gotten to know each other better had he ever thought of her as insecure. But as he watched her now, only one word came to mind:
scared.
The million-dollar question was whether she was scared that he’d leave or scared that he’d stay.

When she grabbed her biker jacket, shoved the .22 in her waistband and headed for the door, he moved to block her path. “Slow down, Ike. Let’s talk about this.”

Normally she would have shoved him aside. Now she stumbled to a halt, as though leery of touching him. “Move, William. This isn’t over just because Firenzetti is in custody. We have work to do.”

“No,” he contradicted. “You have running to do. Question is, are you running because the sex didn’t work for you and you’d rather screw and screw?” He used the crude expression deliberately, though reducing what had happened between them to that level left a nasty taste in his mouth. “Or are you running because it worked too well for you and you don’t know how to handle it?”

“Or maybe this is who I am,” she countered, glaring at him. “Maybe I’m practical enough to know that we’ve had our moment and it’s time to get back to reality.”

“It’s three in the morning,” he said between gritted teeth. “It won’t change anything if we take five minutes here.” He paused and took a deep breath, then said, “What just happened between us was pretty intense.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m a big girl and I can handle myself just fine in these situations.” She gestured to the door. “If you don’t mind?”

He did mind, but he couldn’t get past the anger that’d flared at the mention of other similar situations. In one broad sweep she’d slapped an incredible experience down to the level of her revolving-door guy policy, and that just ticked him off.

So instead of arguing and opening himself up for another hit like that one, he stepped aside. “Fine. But maybe you should ask yourself how much of this is about me and how much of it is really about you being a coward.”

She hissed, infuriated. “Damn you.”

“Am I really the only one who’s ever put two and two together and gotten four?” His anger rose to match hers. “You do your damnedest to attract attention with the way you look and act, but then you slap at anyone who gives you that attention. You pull the claustrophobia card when it’s convenient, but it’s not about the actual physical space with you, is it? It’s about being trapped.” He spread his arms wide. “I’m not trying to trap you, Ike. I’m trying to get you to see what’s standing right in front of you. I’m asking you to give this a chance.”

“You don’t like me,” she hissed. “I’m not your type.”

He exhaled a sharp, frustrated breath. “Aren’t we past that yet? You’re not my type, true, but it turns out I’m flexible. I respect your loyalty and your guts. I like the way you keep me on my toes, keep me guessing. And, frankly, I don’t care whether you wear a dress, black leather, farmer’s overalls or nothing at all, I’m still going to like you.” He advanced a step, making sure she was looking into his eyes when he said, “I like you. I want to give this a try.”

She stared at him for a long beat, so long he thought she might say yes. Then she turned away. “I can’t, I’m sorry.” She headed for the door. “It’s just not worth the risk.”

William felt the barb dig deep and draw blood as the door closed behind her. But could he really argue? He was a broken-down agent with an aptitude for killing and a partnership in a business that was weeks away from folding. Certainly no prize. Perhaps not worth the risk. But that didn’t stop the low burn of anger from kindling in his gut, a sick twist of dismay that said this was far from over.

He walked to the window and watched her pull out in the rental, turning toward the lab. He would’ve guessed that as her destination. God knows it was where he would have gone — and they were more alike that she cared to admit.