06 Double Danger (23 page)

Someone like Simon. It was all so twisted together.

Angry at herself for wallowing, Jillian threw back the covers and sat on the side of the bed. Her travel clock glowed green—and indicated it was well past the middle of the night. Which meant that sleep probably wasn’t coming. Better to make good use of her time. She’d take another shower and then see if Avery or Hannah or someone needed her.

She stripped off the sweats she’d been sleeping in and headed for the door, wearing only a camisole and panties. Then stopped as she passed the mirror over the bureau, her eyes drawn to the woman reflected there.

Her hair was tangled from sleep, her face pale, dark smudges under her eyes, testament to everything she’d been through over the past few days. She’d dodged death more than once now. If it hadn’t been for Simon…

She closed her eyes, her mind conjuring the memory
of his strong arms wrapped around her. She shivered, remembering the feel of his hands against her skin, his mouth tracing a hot, wet pathway from her lips to her breasts. Then her mind drifted farther back in time, and she remembered that night—her first. She could feel the texture of the hairs at the nape of his neck. The silky skin of his chest. The brush of his whispers against her lips. She could smell the sharp, clean scent of him.

The past and present blended together.

Nothing had changed.

Everything had changed.

With a swallowed moan, her eyes fluttered open, and she forced the thoughts away. She’d made her decision. She walked to the bedroom door and stuck her head out. The room was empty, and despite the wash of disappointment, she knew it was for the best. Crossing the room in two strides, she reached for the doorknob, but instead it swung open, and her hand met hard flesh.

Simon’s.

She tried to swallow. Hell, she tried to breathe, her heart pounding so loudly that she was certain he could hear it. Her mind screamed retreat, but her feet were having none of it. Forcing herself to lift her eyes, her gaze collided with his, revealing both passion and need. Raw and hungry.

He held out his hand, the gesture both asking and commanding. And in that instant, she knew she didn’t have the strength to say no. Despite her declarations to the contrary, she still wanted him. And though she knew she’d regret it tomorrow, in this moment, with his hand outstretched and his soul in his eyes, she realized she didn’t give a damn.

She felt his fingers close around hers as his towel dropped to the floor, and he drew her into the moist, steamy sanctuary of the bathroom. Still holding her hand, he reached behind him to turn on the taps, the sound of the running water sensual as it cascaded against the tiles of the stall.

The steam curled around them, as he traced the line of her bottom lip with his thumb, her skin hypersensitive, as if she’d finally come alive. She lifted her arms as he pulled off her camisole and removed her panties, his palms hot against her skin. Then with a slow smile, he pulled her into the shower.

For a moment they stood, water coursing down around them, electricity arcing between them, connecting them. And then with a groan, he crushed her to him, his mouth slanting over hers, his kiss hard and possessive.

She ran her hands along the scars on his back, reveling in his strength. Steel tempered by a life she could only begin to imagine. Simon was a warrior. And the thought should have scared her. But as his tongue plunged deep into her mouth, all she felt was desire. As if they’d been kissing like this forever. As if he was her home and she’d been gone for such a very, very long time.

The rational part of her brain knew that it was chemical. That his hormones were affecting hers. That she was responding to something genetic, something hardwired into them both at birth. And yet somehow it didn’t matter. It was as if he were a part of her. Something she’d cherished, then lost, and then found again.

Clearly she was crazy, but standing here in the swirling mist, she didn’t care. All she wanted was this moment and this man. He ran his hands along the curves of her
body, fingers exploring, missing nothing. And she greedily accepted his kiss. It crossed her mind that this was what it was supposed to be like. This unending need. A desire so strong she thought surely it would kill her.

His fingers found her breasts, stroking, squeezing, and still his tongue demanded more. She felt as if he were sucking the very life from her body, demanding everything she had to give, and yet she offered it willingly.

He turned her then, her back pressed against him, his penis hard against her, the water massaging her breasts and stomach. His lips found her neck, and she arched against him, reveling in the feel of his mouth and his hands. His thumbs moved in slow circles against her breasts until she moaned. Then one hand slid lower, her body braced against him as he stroked her inner thighs, slowly at first, teasing her, and then he slipped his fingers inside.

She whimpered and pushed against him as he caressed her sensitive nub. Then he slid one finger deep inside, stroking, his other hand tightening on her nipple as he rolled it between his fingers, the sensations combining, threatening to drive her over the edge. Her body trembled with need as the water continued to caress them. He licked the tender whorl of her ear, his tongue rough and gentle all at the same time, and then suddenly he pulled the lobe into his mouth, sucking deeply as his finger stroked inside her.

For a moment, he held her suspended on feeling, then he pulled away, turning her to face him, his mouth crushing down on hers as he shifted again, lifting her up onto the seat built into the shower stall. She bit at his lower lip, then thrust her tongue deep into his mouth, relishing
the taste of him. Then he broke free, his mouth moving lower, tasting first her neck and then her breasts, his insistent pull sending shards of heat rippling through her. And she tipped her head back, wanting more, the water only adding to the seduction.

He caressed first one breast and then the other, laving each, and then tracing a fiery path downward, across her stomach and then her belly button, his mouth leaving a hot, wet trail for the water to wash away. Then, bracing her against the water-warmed tiles, his hands cupped her bottom as he slid lower still, lifting her up, his tongue parting the soft folds, flitting across her clitoris, sucking and teasing.

She squirmed against his lips and tongue, knowing that she wanted something more, but unable to stop him, her body responding like a well-strung instrument. Faster and faster his tongue moved, and she dug her fingers into his shoulders, thinking that she’d never found this kind of sexual release before.

His mouth pulled and teased and suddenly she came, her mind exploding with color and light as he drove her higher still, demanding something she’d never given anyone before. And for a moment, she hung on the precipice, afraid. But then she let go, her body breaking into pieces, pleasure indistinguishable from pain as she surrendered to his touch.

And surprisingly, instead of feeling spent, she only wanted more. With a smile, she buried her face in his hair, caressing the contours of his neck.

Then she slid down, sitting on the shower’s bench, reaching for him. Pulling his hips to her mouth. At first, she just explored the contours of his hard, muscled body
but then she let her tongue trail along the velvety strength of his penis. She heard the sharp intake of his breath and smiled, secure in her power. Then, with the water still pounding around them, she took him in her mouth, stroking with her tongue.

His hands dug into her shoulders as she began to move faster. And then with an audible moan, he forcibly lifted her up so that she was standing on the shower seat. Pulling her close, he took possession of her lips. She pressed closer, opening her legs, locking them around him so that the head of his penis pushed against her center.

“Now,” she whispered, wanting him more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life. “Please, Simon, now.”

For a moment, he pulled back, his eyes searching hers. And then with a crooked smile that cut through the defenses she’d spent years building, he thrust inside her, filling her to bursting. She closed her eyes, surrendering to the sensation as he started to move within her.

Slowly at first and then building faster and faster. Deeper and harder. His body moving within hers, their union becoming more important than breathing. And suddenly they were one, striving to reach higher still. As if together they were somehow capable of more.

And then, with the shower softly raining down upon them, bound together in a dance older than time, she called his name, their bodies joined, their hearts beating in unison as the world splintered into sensation. Magic beyond anything she could have ever believed possible.

Jillian sat on the edge of her bed, reaching for her boots, thinking that she’d totally screwed up everything. One
look at Simon standing in that shower and she’d caved completely, losing every ounce of self-restraint she’d ever possessed. No matter that she’d told him there was no future. That she’d walked out the door yesterday morning intending to never look back

One look at his—admittedly smoking hot—body, and she’d folded like a stack of cards, letting her desire get the better of her. And now,
now
she had to face him—again. Tell him that it had all been a huge mistake. That she’d only given him her body and not her heart.

Which would, of course, be a lie.

She’d lost her heart to Simon over a decade ago, and even though he’d chosen Ryan, and she’d essentially done the same, her feelings for Simon hadn’t changed one iota. Whatever the hell an iota was. She jerked on her left boot, wishing that the last two nights hadn’t been wonderful. But there was no denying that they had been. Making love with Simon had been sublime. Superlative. Absolutely amazing.

Damn the man.

She blew out a breath and stuck her foot into the other boot. Now there was going to be a price to pay. Hers. It wasn’t that she wasn’t liberated. This was an age when people could sleep together without emotional entanglement. Men and women, yes. Her and Simon, no.

At least not her.

Maybe that’s what was making her the most crazy. The irony of the situation. All those years ago, he’d been the one to run for the hills. God, she’d been so inexperienced. And she’d had such a crush on him. And so one thing had led to another.

It had been spring of their senior year. There’d been
a party. In some guy’s off-campus apartment. She was supposed to have gone with Ryan. But at the last minute, he’d bailed. And in a fit of pique, she’d gone with her roommate.

It was a ratty old place on the railroad tracks. And they were serving hurricane punch. The kind that you made in trashcans with fruit juice and Everclear. She smiled at the memory. The stuff was pretty damned potent. And before she’d known it, her head was spinning.

She’d looked for her friend, only to find her out back on the picnic table—with the host. Not wanting to ruin a good thing, Jillian had decided to head home on her own. But on her way up the stairs to retrieve her coat, she’d run into Simon. He’d had his fair share of punch, too. And what started with a search for her coat had ended with them kissing, their combustion then every bit as passionate as their exchange last night.

She remembered him pushing her against the wall, his hands everywhere, touching everything. And she remembered the feel of her palms against his chest, his heart beating next to hers. Then they’d moved to a bed, and as things progressed, she’d thought that everything was exactly as it should be.

She hadn’t hesitated for a moment. And she’d had no regrets. Until Ryan had called out from the stairs, and Simon had jerked away, the magic of the moment evaporating just like that. He’d helped her pull her clothes into place with a mumbled apology. And then Ryan had walked in. Even though the two of them had pulled apart, it was fairly obvious what had happened.

The next morning she’d expected Simon to call. Expected him to have felt the way she did. That she and
Simon belonged together. But she never heard from him. At least not concerning that night. In fact, from that moment, everything had been different.

They never talked about it, any of them, but the dynamic had changed. Ryan and Simon were still friends, but a wall had gone up between her and Simon. It was as though the whole night had never happened. And even though she knew now her hopes had been naive, she still hadn’t really gotten over the hurt. Her heart had belonged to Simon almost from the moment she’d first met him. And their night together had only served to reinforce the point.

Which made her next move really stupid. Ryan pretended nothing had happened, and, angry at Simon, Jillian had gone along with the ruse. And when he’d asked her to marry him a few months later, she’d said yes. An act of defiance that she’d ridiculously hoped would goad Simon into action.

But nothing had happened, except that she’d become a bride. Simon standing silently next to Ryan as she’d walked to the altar. And somewhere along the way, she’d traded her dreams for a nightmare. Maybe what happened between them had been her fault—at least in part.

Of course, marrying Ryan had meant that Simon was still a part of her life. Albeit a fleeting one. He hardly ever spent time with both of them, and never with her alone. It was as though he’d cut her out of his life as much as he could without losing Ryan.

And for the most part, she’d accepted the fact. Until she finally forced herself to face the truth about Ryan. To accept that her husband was never going to stop hitting
her. She’d so desperately needed someone to confide in. But by then, Ryan had cut her off from almost everyone. So she’d called Simon. But he’d shut her down cold. Not even giving her time to explain.

She’d hated him for that. So lost in her own fear and disbelief that she blamed him for what was happening. If he hadn’t rejected her, then she wouldn’t have married Ryan and her life wouldn’t have turned to a living hell.

But that hadn’t been fair. Simon had no idea what was going on. And her choices were certainly hers alone. But from that point on, she’d avoided him. Even at the funeral, she’d kept her distance. Certain that they were better off apart.