Sweet Seduction Stripped (14 page)

"You OK?" I managed to get out, each hard thrust of his hips making the words jump in my throat.

"Heaven," he semi-repeated, but I knew he was also in pain.

"I can be on top again," I suggested, and I saw understanding cross his strained features.

He smiled. It lifted his face completely. Turned the fierce dragon into a charming prince.

"Dancer," he said, still rocking into me but the pace had slackened slightly and the thrusts weren't quite as deep. "Remember when I told you in some things I am very, very bad?"

I nodded, my lower lip between my teeth making it impossible to answer in words.

He ducked his head, sucked my lip out from between my teeth, and proceeded to kiss me senseless. It lasted for an eternity, but not nearly long enough. I could have kissed him and not needed another thing to survive. All that existed was Ric and me, and that kiss. Heady, consuming, passion through the touch of lips and tongue and teeth. I moaned into his mouth and as another orgasm swamped me, he swallowed my cries of release. A satisfied look gracing his face when I could focus again at last.

"Sweetheart," he said again, watching me blink the haze of my climax away. "I'm going easy on you," he whispered, starting to pick up pace again.

Easy? We were both covered in sweat, my limbs like jelly, my chest bursting with the need for more air. I was sated and content, but extremely exhausted. And yet, much like him I think, I could have kept going for the rest of the day and not complained.

He went back up on his knee, that bad leg partially bent. The pain of the movement marring his features.

I frowned, opened my mouth to tell him to stop being an idiot... and then he came. It was extraordinary. Like watching the sun rise on a crisp winter's day. Or, perhaps a more apt description, watching a rocket explode and fly off into space. Awesome. There was no other word.

His face looked ecstatic, in that brief moment between pleasure and pain. I lay stunned beneath him as he slowly came down from a high I wished I'd been on, although I could hardly complain. And then he was stretching out on top of me, laying kisses all over my neck and collarbone, and trying to suck in enough air to talk, I think.

Because as soon as he had he said, still breathless, "Pain. Don't ever think I don't welcome it, Amber. It's been part of me for so long, I can't let go."

"You need it?" I asked, acutely aware of the various desires people could have.

He lifted his head and looked me in the eye. I had a strange feeling I could see inside him.

"I don't remember not being without it," he admitted, a look of sheer terror of his face.

What was he afraid of? Scaring me away?

I stroked a hand down his back, then up into his damp hair. Then kept repeating the motion again and again until I felt his body finally relax. Still on top of me, face buried in my neck now, but he must have still been keeping his weight off, because I could breathe.

Neither of us said anything, and I wondered if I should have been reassuring him. But sometimes actions speak louder than words. I wasn't going anywhere. I wasn't going to run. I held him tighter, hoping my fierce hold alone was all the answer he needed.

Hoping he realised that I'd already given him possession of my heart and my body and my soul.

Hoping he understood how to take care of it; as carefully and tenderly as I intended to take care of his. A heart and body and soul that I think might just have been damaged, which bizarrely seemed to make mine weep as though they were the broken ones.

Oh fuck, she was perfect. I'd never been so close to coming before without any pain. I almost did. I almost lost it completely, buried inside her, without anything other than elation and lust coursing through my veins.

And then she'd retreated. Just briefly. Back inside her shell. Something had spooked her. And I lost the chance to feel nirvana and needed that extra push to make it home.

I felt absolutely... what? I felt ashamed.

I left Amber showering. I could have joined her, but then she'd have seen my back. I think enough was revealed today. To her and to me. More than enough.

So I ducked out of the safe room and headed towards control, wanting to get an update on where we were currently at. Whether Harding had made his demands yet, because sure as shit he would start demanding we hand her back.

I could let go, if she asked it.

Fuck, who was I kidding? I would never let her go now.

I banged on the door, waiting for whoever was in there to let me in. It seemed to take longer than it should have, which left me wondering how the guys felt when I took my own sweet time. Shoe's on the other foot now, though, eh? I'd requested a break from control to see to Amber. Adam had offered to take over her care, but I'd punched him in the fucking stomach. Permission granted.

The door clicked and I pushed my way inside finding the place packed. I shouldn't have been surprised. We were on lockdown and the reason for it was currently on the main screen.

"How's she doing?" Nick asked as soon as I closed the door at my back.

"Awake. Sore." I tried not to let any male satisfaction seep into my expression on that last. Some of that soreness was all on me and didn't I just want to pound a fist on my chest and roar with masculine pride.

And there goes the pervert again.

Adam snorted, Ben muttered something under his breath, and Abi smirked. OK, maybe I was wearing a sign that read, "Just had fantastic sex and I'm feeling fucking good," on my forehead.

"Pierce said they were denied access to C&C," Nick announced, bringing everyone's attention back to the task and not my outstanding sexual pastimes. "Lawyer's turned up and told them, in no uncertain terms, that they'd need a warrant to visit the premises. He's trying for one now, not that he thinks he'll get it. HEAT want access as well, so there's pressure from that front. But Harding's swearing it's an internal matter and the building is sound, no one got hurt."

"If there's fire damage HEAT should be able to convince a Judge to let them in," Brook offered.

HEAT, or the Hauraki Emergency Assistance Team, consisted of three different divisions. Investigations, the part that looked into fire related crimes, could insist the explosions would have caused fire damage and work their way in there. But it was a long shot. If the cops couldn't get into the building, it would be unlikely an off-shoot of the Fire Service could do any better.

Nick was shaking his head. "Not gonna happen, Harding's lawyer is pretty slick."

"So, did the girl manage to copy the file?" Koki asked, and all eyes turned to me.

Fuck. I hadn't even asked Amber. Just screwed her senseless and left the room. Yep. I was a fucking perverted bastard, too hung up on getting inside her sweet body to remember the reason why she came to our attention in the first place.

And now I felt like shit, because there was no way I was pressuring Amber into handing over any evidence she didn't want to share.

Priorities, say hello to confusion, and welcome to a fucked up mess.

"Well?" Nick pressed, and here's where it would get messy.

"Haven't asked her," I admitted, leaning back against the wall beside the door and crossing my arms over my chest. Nick's gaze dipped down at the movement, watching the defensive gesture and seeing it for what it actually was.

"Got something you wanna share?" he asked, ignoring my distraction and not calling me on the ruse.

"She's not long been awake. Just give her a moment," I shot back, feeling all sorts of uncomfortable with every single pair of eyes boring into my head.

"If you don't wanna ask her, I will," Adam, the bastard, drawled from across the room.

It was Ben's arm braced over my chest that stopped my forward motion. Silence blanketed the room as I breathed through clenched teeth.

What the fuck? I knew I was gone for her, but I never suspected I'd be a fucking retard about it. Oh, fuck me. This was not going to be good.

Nick rocked back on his heels, his own arms now crossed over his chest, a scowl on his face, contemplating me where I stood; Ben to my side, ready to intercept my next unbelievably stupid move at a moment's notice.

And then Nick surprised the fuck out of me by saying, "I guess that answers that."

Movement and soft murmurs, until Brook stepped forward and pulled out a wad of cash. "And the winner is Mr Ben Tamati.
Ka pai
, mate. Your guess of, and I quote, 'Already a fuckin' goner' is correct."

I turned my head slowly towards the big M
āori at my side and glared. Ben shrugged.

"Wildcat's just as gone as you, my man," he said, reaching for his winnings.

"How'd you figure that?" I asked before I could stop myself, receiving several chuckles of amusement from the rest of the room for that ridiculous, pansy-arsed question.

Ben smirked. He leaned in, lowered his voice so it didn't carry over the hilarity of the crowd, and said, "Know a thing or two about possession. There are those who become obsessed with what they cannot obtain. Then there are those who already own it, given freely and completely. Guess which one you are."

Huh. Never thought I'd have an articulate conversation with Ben about possession versus obsession, but there you go.

"The latter," I said, already aware of what he was trying to tell me. Amber was mine. Because she'd given herself to me.

Ben nodded towards the too large image of Jaxon Harding on the screen.

"Guess which one he is," he murmured.

Yeah. Harding wasn't going to let Amber go easily, even though he'd already lost her.

The need to be back in the safe room with my Dancer consumed me. I lifted my eyes to seek Nick's and found him already looking at me. He nodded towards the door, in a clear signal for me to go, and then turned his attention towards the screen.

I knew I had to get my head in the game soon or the shit would hit the fan and I wouldn't be ready.

But for now, I needed Amber more.

Priorities.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, then swiped the glass again as it re-steamed. I'd taken such a long shower the entire bathroom was full of mist; the extractor fan inadequate and there was no window to open to vent the steam. So every few seconds I swiped the mirror and kept staring at the eyes that looked back.

Still my eyes. Still me. But changed.

Did I feel guilt for sleeping with Ric? Maybe. No, not really. Which made me think, just what sort of woman am I?

Several more blank moments passed and I re-swiped the mirror again. I wasn't sure I could answer that question. But as the mist from the over hot shower settled back on the glass
again
, my mind in its ever eager recollections plucked out that file I'd initially hacked.

I'd enjoyed being with Jaxon. I'd even loved how he treated me. But the moment I saw that image, that picture of him grinning as he shot a bound, kneeling man, all bets were off.

People leave people all the time, for various reasons. One minute the relationship appears perfect. The next in tatters. I was no different from hundreds of thousands of other people out there. But still I had trouble looking into my eyes. I knew what I felt was true. Real. I'd cared for him, in a way loved him, but not enough. Would I have eventually left him if I hadn't ever read that file?

I had to believe that sooner or later I would have found the courage to face the truth. But sometimes we need more than a vague sense of things not being right. Sometimes we need a catalyst in order to make that next move.

I'd known he had darkness in him. I tried to ignore the warnings because he treated me so well and seemed a decent man. I didn't want to hurt him. And then he hurt me.

I may have been having issues trying to reconcile what had happened and the fact that I appeared to have moved on to another man in lightning speed. But I was not ignorant of the fact that Jaxon had used me. Planned to involve me in his illegal business in a way I would have found difficult to get out.

As it is I stole that money, set ASI up, at his request.

Duress, I kept telling myself, but with all the turbulent emotions going around inside my head, it was difficult to believe that excuse was adequate. Could I have fought him? Argued? Found a trigger in his once gentle heart to back off from Sweet Seduction with that bomb threat?

I swiped the mirror again and sighed.

"No," I said to the girl staring back at me with too big eyes. "He made this happen, and I was ready to move on. I have nothing to feel guilty about. My life. My heart. My body."

Then why did I still feel like shit?

I heard the door open out in the main room. Ric was back. And I was still standing naked, wet from a shower, in a steamed up bathroom. I reached for a towel and the door beside me opened. I'm not shy. I used to flash my boobs every night of the week and swing around a pole in a thong. My body isn't just an extension of me, it
is
me. So I stood there, one hand outstretched to the towel on the handrail, the other holding me up by a grip on the vanity top.

"You're not dressed," Eric said, sounding a little strung out actually.

I frowned and pulled the towel closer, then started to dry off. His eyes followed my movements like a hungry cat watching the antics of a mouse.

"I got distracted," I replied, amused to note his immediate reaction. It was hard to miss, growing ever larger as it was.

He rubbed a hand over his mouth and closed his eyes.

"You can watch," I said, wondering why he was hiding.

Angry green suddenly stared back at me, making me go still.

"Don't ever think," he growled, "that you have to put a show on for me, Amber. I want you. Not what you can do. Just you. Any way I can get you.
I want you.
"

I stared at him. He stared at me. And then I dropped the towel and crossed the short distance
and threw myself at his body. My legs wrapped around his waist as my arms snaked around his neck, and then I was kissing him. Hard, deep, desperate.

He grunted, took a step back, lost his balance as a cry of pain escaped his lips, and then we were falling. Too quick to stop it, too fast to jump off his body before it hit the carpet, and all air was pushed from our lungs.

"Oof,"
he exclaimed. Followed by another sound of pain.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" I rushed to apologise, trying to extricate myself.

And then I was rolled, under his body, surrounded by him, as he raised himself enough to pull his track pants down, release his erection, grip my upper thigh and widen myself for his entry.

"In my pocket," he rasped. "Quick, sweetheart. I need you."

I need you. That phrase again.

I fumbled in his pants pocket and found another condom. Whether he'd stocked up again or had originally had two there, I don't know. But I had it out, opened and on him in a flash. His grin at my frantic movements finally replacing some of the anguish I'd seen before.

"My Dancer wants me too, huh?" he whispered, as I gave his shaft one final squeeze and stroke.

"Always," I whispered, looking deep into his eyes.

"Always," he repeated, holding my gaze and positioning himself at my entrance with just a flex of his hips. Then he was sinking. Inside my centre, inside me. Our eyes connected as our bodies came together and the world fell away until it was just us.

He panted an almost grunt when he was fully seated, and then he started to rock. Slow at first, then faster and harder and faster still. Our eyes locked. Our bodies meeting in deep, hard thrusts.

Every time he pumped his hips I rose to meet him. Every time he sunk deep I moaned. Every time he pulled out, almost to the very end of him, I whimpered. And every time he looked at me as though I was his heaven.

"Hold on," he said on a breath of expelled air.

"I won't let go," I replied instantly. I'd never let go.

"Dancer," he said in such a sweet tone; desperate and longing. "Ah fuck, Amber," he added. "I'm not gonna last long."

His hand came between us, seeking out my little sensitive nub, as my fingers ran up and down his back under his t-shirt. Desperate to touch him, all of him. Longing to give him what he needed the most.

I sucked in air at the approaching orgasm, his eyes never left mine. A whimper, then a long low moan as it flooded me. My lids fluttering but I could see the look on his face as he found his own release, seconds later.

"Oh, fuck yes," he moaned, loud enough I was sure to be heard through the door if anyone was standing on the other side.

We both panted through the exertion, as our bodies sank further into bliss, and then when I finally became aware of things other than the beautiful sensations centred between my legs, I realised my back was feeling rubbed raw from the carpet and my butt was bruised from the hold Ric had throughout. And none of it could stop my smile as I held the man above me as though I'd never let him go.

"Sweetheart," he whispered in my ear. "Am I too heavy?"

"No. You're perfect," I said. He let a bark of laughter out and raised himself up on his elbows.

"I am far from perfect, Amber," he returned. I tilted my head and raised my eyebrows, hoping he'd explain that further. He laughed again, then rolled us over so he was on the hard floor and I was lying down the length of him. He was still inside me. Just.

"Wanna know what I thought of all those times we chatted on-line?" he said softly, mischief and humour in his eyes.

"What did you think of, Eric?" I said seriously, trying not to smile.

"I fantasied about golden glitter and itty-bitty thongs. I imagined fucking you while you still wore them, leaning over your keyboard while you wrote code."

Now there's a fantasy I could get into.

But he wasn't finished. "Sometimes, I'd be waiting for your reply to a question I had typed and I'd spread my legs," oh good Lord, "undo my zip," holy hell, "pull myself out," he was killing me here, "and pretend you were on your knees beneath my desk sucking me off."

"You did not!"

He smirked. "Well, maybe not. You'll never really know. But I did spend way too many hours planning ways to seduce you should I break my rule and find out who you were."

That I could believe. Our conversations had become more and more personal as the years went by. One day, one of us, would have broken the rules. Hell, it was me, wasn't it? I was the one to try and hack him, to find out where he lived.

"Why didn't you?" I found myself asking.

"Undo my pants and pull myself out?" he cheekily replied.

I frowned at him.

"I did," he said in response. Did what? Pull himself out? "I located you. I knew you were in Auckland."

Silence.

"And that's it?" I asked once I'd gotten myself under control.

He nodded. "Scared myself shitless," he admitted, starting to brush my hair off my face and tuck it behind my ears. "Backed right off then."

"When was this?"

"Almost two years ago."

Yeah. I already knew. Not quite two years, about twenty-one months to be precise. Right before I finally gave in to Jaxon.

Because RiC3.1415 stopped answering my messages for a whole three weeks.

I closed my eyes and lowered my head until our foreheads connected.

"Dancer?" he said, concern evident in his tone. "What's wrong, sweetheart? You know we set up that rule in the beginning, you've gotta know I regret breaking it. But I did my best to not find out any more."

He thought I was upset he had done it. Found out I lived in the same city as him. He didn't realise I was distraught over the fact that he'd stopped. That he hadn't taken that next step then. I shouldn't have put that on him. I was just as capable as him to break that stupid rule and reach out. It was not his fault I sought comfort in Jaxon's arms.

From a fantasy I knew I could never have.

I pushed up from his body, breaking our connection as he fell out, and walked back into the bathroom to clean up and get dressed. Clearly I was too emotional right now to be dealing with any more upset. But I couldn't stop myself from feeling like we'd missed out. Lost a chance. Wasted two years together.

I might have slammed the toilet seat down a little too harshly, and pulled the hand-towel off its peg a little too hard. The plastic hook part snapped and fell to the floor as I watched it. Towel gripped in my good hand, the damaged one trying to make a fist. It was the pain that made me cry, I'm sure of it. The gash in my palm stretching as I curled my fist.

In the next second Ric was behind me, wrapping me up in his arms and pulling me into his hard chest.

"Amber," he murmured. "Sweetheart. I'm sorry. Please don't cry, baby. Please."

Hearing Jaxon's old moniker for me just made the tears fall harder. Because it sounded so much nicer on Ric's tongue. It meant so much more coming from him than it had ever done from my ex. An ex I shouldn't have been with if Ric had just had the balls to break our rules further and make contact face to face.

I had no doubt that if he had I would have fallen for those green eyes. Would have realised he fit every fantasy I had about RiC3.1415 and then some. Would have chosen him instead of Jaxon and then not had to see people getting shot in pictures, and know I'd never forget the fear and defeat in the victim's eyes.

But we had rules and he'd tried to keep to them. Despite his obvious curiosity and the fantasies he'd created around my on-line alias, Danc3r. I had no right to blame him. To put the past twenty months and the culmination of my own choices on his head. I had no right.

I turned in his embrace and wrapped my arms around his waist, holding on. My good cheek to his chest, as his hands rubbed up and down my back soothingly, and his chin rested on my head.

"I'm sorry," he repeated and I hiccuped as I sucked in a breath.

"That's not why I'm upset," I finally managed to say.

"Then why the tears?" he asked, pulling back to look down at me, but I just held on tighter to his waist and buried my face into his body, inhaling deeply. Taking him all in.

Twenty-months. What a fucking waste.

"You disappeared," I explained. "On-line. I thought I'd lost you." He stilled, stopped stroking me, and just held his breath. "I decided I needed to stop fantasising about a guy I didn't really know who could be living on the other side of the world and start living my life here."

"You turned to Harding," Ric guessed.

"I wish..." I started.

"I'd made contact," he finished and I nodded. "Fuck," he breathed. The word held a wealth of emotion. I felt every single one.

"I hate that I was weak," I admitted.

"Sweetheart," Ric started, but I interrupted him before he could go on.

"He was persistent, he wore me down. I was weak."

"Because you lost me," Ric mused, but I didn't reply. "Motherfucker!" he exclaimed, albeit quietly.