Take Me Deeper (14 page)

He whispered more things to her, his mouth on her skin, so hot and soft against her nape and shoulders, making her gasp and shudder as he thrust into her, the pleasure beginning to concentrate between her legs in a tight, hard knot.

Then his hand slid beneath her, finding her clit and pinching gently, drawing a soft scream from her that she half muffled against the sheet. He did it again and again, in time with the push of his cock in her pussy, the rhythm getting faster, harder.

She turned her face into the sheets as the orgasm began to swell inside her, pressing outward, pulling her skin taut and making her feel like a balloon filled with too much air. She sobbed his name, her voice cracked and desperate, and he replied, telling her she was his good girl, that she was doing so well, that he was proud of her. It was pathetic and if she hadn't been pushed beneath him and half out of her mind with pleasure, she would have been appalled with herself. But she
was
pushed beneath him and she
was
half out of her mind, and it didn't seem to matter right now, not when she'd already fallen to pieces once with him.

So she let the sounds she was making leak out as the orgasm got bigger and bigger inside her, swelling up, her skin a taut membrane around it so it felt as if the lightest touch would make her explode. Then he bit her shoulder, sinking his teeth in hard at the same time as his cock thrust deep, his fingers delivering one final pinch to her clit.

And the balloon burst, a hot, liquid rush of pleasure firing every nerve ending she had, making her groan helplessly into the sheets, her body shaking so much she didn't think she'd ever stop.

Dimly she felt his arm slide around her waist and tighten, holding her against him as he gave one last, hard thrust, pressing his mouth to her neck and shuddering, growling her name as the orgasm came for him too.

Then the weight of him came down on her, pinning her to the bed, the heat of his hard, muscular body astonishing against her back. A week ago she would have shoved him off, because she hated being pinned down. It made her feel suffocated and crowded and trapped. But right now, with Zane sprawled on top of her, she didn't feel any of those things.

What she felt was boneless, utterly spent, and for the first time since she could remember, completely and totally safe. As if his body were a shield protecting her from the rest of the world and all she had to do was lie beneath it.

So she didn't move, keeping her eyes closed, the heavy weight of him on top of her reassuring in a way she couldn't quite have articulated. And eventually, warm and comfortable, listening to the rush of his breathing in her ear, she drifted off to sleep.

Zane woke with his arms full of sweet curves and warm, bare skin, and for a second he didn't want to move because if this was a dream, then he sure as hell didn't want to wake up. But then the woman in his arms shifted, the soft curve of her ass pushing against his morning erection, making him realize he was definitely awake and this was no goddamn dream.

Iris…

She was lying on her side, her back pressed to his front, her hair an inky silken tangle on the pillow, and the feel of her against him made a deep satisfaction uncurl inside him. He leaned forward, burying his face in all that black silk, inhaling the sweet scent of flowers and feminine musk.

He knew what a gift he'd been given. Because to have this strong, independent woman melt in his arms the way she had the night before, trusting him completely,
was
a gift. Especially when he suspected she didn't do that for just anyone. Oh, no, she'd melted for
him.
She'd given her trust to
him.

Are you sure that's a good idea?

Refusing to listen to the doubt in his head, he tightened his arms around her, gathering her more firmly against his body.

No, he didn't want to be anyone's hero these days, but he'd be damned if he ignored the gift of Iris's trust. He wouldn't let it mean nothing. He'd make sure she was safe from the cartel, reunited with her sister, get them both living happily in that little house she'd wanted to buy, and he wasn't going to let her out of his sight until that was done. Failure was not an option.

And in the meantime? Well, keeping his hands off her seemed ridiculous after the night before. Definitely a closing-the-stable-door-long-after-the-horse-had-bolted situation. So maybe he wouldn't bother. Maybe he wouldn't let her out of his bed either, or at least not until he'd accomplished his mission.

He nuzzled the back of her neck, brushing his mouth over her warm skin, and she gave a little sigh. One of his hands was resting on her stomach and he slid it down, grazing the soft curls between her thighs.

She twitched, murmuring something.

Zane grinned against her shoulder and stroked her a bit more insistently.

“Stop it, Dylan,” she muttered, sounding annoyed.

He stilled. Who the fuck was Dylan? An unfamiliar thread of jealousy knotted inside him, which was disturbing since he'd never felt particularly jealous of anyone or anything in his entire life. But he was definitely
not
happy at the thought of her saying some other guy's name while she was with him. It made him think things like whether she was still with this asshole or if she'd broken up with him but still thought about him.

Zane firmed his hand on her stomach, kissed her shoulder, then bit her lightly. “Who's Dylan?”

She made a murmuring noise, as if she was half-asleep, but he wasn't fooled. The moment he'd asked the question, he'd felt her entire body stiffen against him. She was awake all right and must have realized she'd spoken aloud.

“I know you're awake.” He trailed another kiss along her shoulder. “And you better tell me if you're seeing someone else.”

There was a silence.

Then she said, “I'm not.”

He wanted to growl like an animal in satisfaction at that, but he didn't, contenting himself with another nip on her shoulder instead. She shivered in response, making him hungry to do other things. Christ, so many other things…

No. First things first. He needed to know who this Dylan asshole was and what the guy had once been to her, if he was going to protect her. Certainly he did if he wanted to keep sleeping with her.

Stroking her stomach gently and avoiding her scrape, Zane waited for her to continue, but she didn't. So, she thought she was going to go back to her being her prickly, cagey little self, did she? Sadly, that wasn't going to work for him. He was on a mission, and when he was on a mission, absolutely nothing got in his way.

“So who is he then?” Zane kept the question casual, allowing her some time to get herself together enough to answer.

“No one.” Her voice was expressionless, her body tense and stiff.

Yeah, he wasn't having that, and the sooner she understood that the better.

With gentle, but insistent pressure, he pushed her over onto her back, easing himself over her and placing his hands palms down on either side of her head.

She blinked up at him, eyes wide with surprise. “What are you doing?”

“I want you to answer my question.”

Instantly the expression on her face became guarded. “It's none of your business.”

“What? You saying another guy's name when you're in bed with me is none of my business?”

Her jaw took on a mutinous cast. “Yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying. Look, all you need to know is that he's not in the picture anymore and hasn't been for a while.” She lifted her hands and placed them on his chest, not quite pushing him away but exerting some pressure nonetheless. “Anyway, where do you get off being such a damn caveman? This is only for a night, Zane.”

He ignored that. They could discuss it later, once they'd sorted out this prick Dylan. “You don't want to talk about him.” He stared down at her, studying her face, watching the walls come down behind her eyes. “And you don't want me to know about him either. Which means something happened with him. What is it? What did he do? Did he hurt you?”

Her body shifted beneath his, and now she was definitely pushing him away, her palms hard against his chest. “Like I said, none of your business. Now get off me, I need the bathroom.”

Like hell she did. Resisting her push, he slid one thigh between hers, using it to both pin her down and to press gently against the soft, wet heat of her pussy. He'd get it out of her one way or another. They didn't call him relentless for nothing. “I'm not going anywhere.” He increased the pressure between her thighs. “Not until you tell me who this guy is.”

A helpless spark of heat flared in her eyes and he watched it light up the darkness, watched it color the delicate skin of her cheekbones in one of her quite frankly adorable blushes. “Why do you want to know? He's got nothing to do with you.”

“I want to know because if I'm going to protect you, I need all the information I can get.”

She scowled, blushing red. “You don't need to know this.”

“Sure, I do.” He lowered his head, nuzzling at her neck, indulging himself totally with that delicious scent of hers. “And you're making a big deal out of it, which means there's something I definitely need to know.”

“Zane, stop.” She shoved at him.

He remained unmoved, lowering himself instead and placing his elbows on the pillows on either side of her, their faces only inches apart. And he stared right into her eyes, allowing her no escape, pinning her with the length of his body and the thigh he had pressed hard between hers. “No,” he said gently. “I will not stop. You trusted me last night and that's a gift you can't take back. Not now that I've accepted it. I'm here to protect you, Iris, and that's what I'm going to do. And to do that, I need to know everything.”

Anger glowed hot in her gaze. “I said one night, that's as far as my trust goes, asshole. And since it's morning, it now doesn't apply.”

She was protecting herself, he understood that, but surely she could tell him. Especially after last night. Jesus, this Dylan guy had to have hurt her if she was fighting this hard.

He looked down at her, debating a couple of options. Sure, he could stop pushing her, let her keep her secrets, but in his experience secrets led to shocks and often unpleasant ones. He couldn't allow there to be any nasty surprises when it came to making sure she was safe, mainly because those nasty surprises involved armed drug dealers. No, in order to make sure he could protect her the way he needed to, he had to have
all
the information, whether she thought it was relevant or not.

However, she'd been protecting herself too long, the habit too deeply ingrained to let her just hand out painful secrets to anyone who asked for them. Naturally she would resist him. Which meant he was going to have to show her gently, but thoroughly, that resistance was not only futile, but pointless.

Shifting his hands, Zane cupped her face between them. “Tell me,” he ordered, using the same gentle, but firm tone he had the night before. “I'll get it out of you one way or another, so it may as well be now.”

Anger glimmered in her eyes, but as he stroked along her cheekbones with his thumbs, he could feel the tension in her easing. Her throat moved, her gaze flickering away from his. “No,” she murmured, the word sounding less firm and more uncertain.

“Yes.” He let his thumbs move down to her mouth, tracing the outline of her lower lip in a light caress. “And you'd better do it fast. You don't want to make me have to punish you, do you?”

She took a breath. The pressure of her hands against his chest had vanished utterly, and now they were just resting there rather than pushing away, the heat of her palms like a brand against his skin. “Punish me?”

He gave her a narrow, stern look. “You think you can get away with disobeying a direct order? I don't think so, baby girl.”

Her lashes drifted down, her gaze centering on his mouth, and he could feel the tremor that went through her. She liked the idea of punishment, oh, yes, she did. And since Zane wasn't a man who let an opportunity go by, he added, “You understand that a confession taken under duress can't be held against you, don't you?”

Sable lashes rose, her gaze meeting his, black as the thickest, darkest, strongest espresso. “You'll have to torture it out of me in that case,” she said, her voice all hoarse. “Because I'll never tell.”

Excitement pulsed through him, hot and raw. Did she know how much he'd been wanting to do exactly that? Torture her deliciously until she spilled all her secrets, until she'd laid herself bare and just for him, only for him.

You can't make her do that. Not when you'll fail her just like you failed Charlie. Like you failed Dad.

No, God. He'd cop to failing Charlie, but that old bastard? Definitely not. The old man had chosen his path and walked down it without a backward glance.

Anyway, this was a different situation entirely. He'd loved Charlie, and once, he'd loved his father. But he didn't love Iris. Which meant he wouldn't fail.

Zane smiled. “Very well. Your choice.” Pushing himself away from her, he reached over the side of the bed for his pants and extracted something from the back pocket.

“What are you doing?” She eyed him warily.

He didn't bother explaining, she'd figure it out soon enough. Grabbing her hand, he clicked the handcuffs he'd extracted from his back pocket around one wrist. She tensed, her sharp intake of breath audible in the silence, but didn't say anything or try to pull away.

“Good girl,” he murmured, pushing her back onto the pillows. Then he lifted her arm and cuffed it to the headboard of the bed.

She lay still, staring at him, and there was no mistaking the challenge in her eyes. “Well, this is kind of familiar,” she said, with a ghost of her usual snarky tone. “I thought you might have something more original up your sleeve.”