Blazing Midsummer Nights (Harlequin Blaze) (10 page)

Her nerve endings awakened, her heart thumping in her chest. Her blood heated and thickened in her veins as she waited.

Then it happened. Someone touched her—a finger of sensation gliding down her spine, from her neck, all the way to the cleft of her bottom, brushing lightly over every vertebrae, bringing every nerve ending roaring to life. She didn’t flinch, was not startled. Instead, she was tingling, aware and anxious, waiting for the next touch, the next breath, a whisper.

But that whisper came from in front of her, not behind.

“Come here.”

Dimitri was waiting. He’d been waiting, patiently, quietly. The right man. The one she was supposed to be with.

Mimi felt torn, confused. He was in front of her, but also behind her? It seemed anything was possible in this magical wood. So finally her feet started to move.

She walked slowly, staring straight ahead, yet ever so aware that she might be leaving something wonderful behind her, unexplored.

She reached him, and he lifted a hand in welcome. Staring down at his beautiful body, she thought that he must be an artist’s model come to life. He was perfectly proportioned, not too big, not too small. Just the right amount of sparse hair on his chest, exactly the perfect dimension of hip to chest.

“I’ve been waiting,” he said. “I want to shower you with red roses and diamonds.”

“Just bring me to life,” she replied, not wanting any of those things.

She lifted one leg over him, straddling him, then lowered herself onto his body. His soft cock was nestled in her curls, its moist tip pressing gently against her clit, like a warm tongue.

“Mmm,” she groaned.

He reached up, tangled his hands in her hair and drew her down for a kiss. Their mouths met, lips parting, tongues licking slowly. It was warm and easy. Not like flying, more like falling.

It was good. But not good enough.

She grabbed his shoulders, digging her fingers into his muscles, trying to tell him she wanted more. Needed more. He didn’t seem to understand, continuing the lazy, sensual assault that teased but didn’t satisfy, flicking a spark but never igniting.

She whimpered, pressing harder against him, noting that the long ridge of masculine flesh between her thighs, pressed into the lips of her sex, remained half-flaccid. Frustration washed over her and she began to shake. She ended the kiss, tempted to throw herself off him.

That tingling sensation began again. The hairs at her nape stood up and her body arched instinctively, her bottom curving back and up. Her eyes dropped closed and she waited, tuning in to her other senses.

And there it was—oh, that smell. The musky, masculine scent that had drawn her into the forest to begin with flooded the air, and with it came pure heat.

She froze, still straddling Dimitri, her thighs clenched around his naked hips. She turned her head, but before she could see the forest god of heat and musk and male, she felt his hot mouth on her neck. She cried out. Dropping her head to the side to give him access, she cooed as he sucked her skin, nipping at her. Not gently. But passion, not pain, was the driving factor.

“Mine. You’re mine,” he growled, emphasizing the claim by grabbing her hips with his big, calloused hands. He squeezed, tugging her up until she was kneeling directly in front of him. One big arm curled around her waist, his hand moving up to catch her naked breast. She shook, she shuddered, she cried.

His fingers stroked her aching nipple, tweaking, pinching lightly, and her hips jerked reflexively as she felt the touch down to her very core.

“Mine,” he repeated, that mouth hot against her neck. “I’m the one you want.”

She arched back against him, groaning, and was rewarded with the feel of his massive form pressed against her. He was naked, sweaty, his crisp body hair spiking her with sensation, from the chest that seemed twice as broad as her back, all the way down his stomach, to the wiry nest rubbing against her bottom. And from it sprang what felt like an utterly enormous, thick and fully erect cock.

“Yes,” she cried, every sense roaring to life, every inch of her in tune to the sensations that battered her like the strong winds of a hurricane. Liquid want flooded her sex and she was dying to be filled by him. She desperately wanted to turn around, to see his face, to behold the incredibly sensual creature seducing her right out of the arms of another naked man.

“No, she’s mine,” that other man said. “I’m the one she’s supposed to be with.”

She looked down. The man with the mist-swathed face still lay below her. She could see the angry thrust of his sculpted jaw, the snarl on his lips. And she felt between her thighs that his penis, only half in the game before, had come roaring to awareness. He was long and rock-hard against her skin, just a few teasing inches away from her opening. As if the very thought of someone else wanting her—taking her—had pushed him over the edge.

He rose up on an elbow, reaching for her, his mouth moving to her other breast. When he covered it with his lips and gently suckled, she cried out. His mouth pleasured one side while the dark forest god’s hand and fingers tweaked heaven on the other.

Mimi closed her eyes again, giving herself over to it, lost in her other senses. Her skin was on fire, her pleasure receptors attacked from every direction. Hands were on her hips, her breasts, her thighs, her butt. Hoarse, hungry groans warred with the sound of her own heartbeat. She tasted sex every time she opened her mouth to draw breath. She smelled the forest and the trees and the earth and sweat and cock and skin and breath and musk and cum and magnolias and moss and her head was ready to explode as she tried to take it all in.

The hand on her bottom moved down, dipping between her cheeks. She quivered at the wicked touch as he explored her. She arched her back, urging him onward. His fingertips slid into her slick lips, and she cried out, jerking into his hand. Those strong fingers found her clit, stroked it, circled it, played it like a tiny instrument until she was shaking. If not for his other arm around her, his other hand still cupping her breast, she might have fallen.

Right onto the other man, whose mouth had moved to explore her ever so much more intimately.

Oh, God.

He was edging lower, shifting his entire body through her parted legs so he could reach more of her vulnerable skin. She was now kneeling right above his face. His tongue teased her stomach, dipped into her belly button. Then he slid down even farther, his lips nuzzling her curls, until his tongue replaced the dark stranger’s fingers, leaving those fingers free to move back to her opening. Thick heat as one entered her. Another joined it, slowly thrusting in and out.

She was crying by this point, tears of erotic pleasure flowing from her eyes. The first orgasm blasted through her, and she shook, falling forward, having to brace herself on her hands. She was on all fours, one lover below her, one behind her.

They moved as if choreographed. The man on the ground—she could no longer recall his name, the one she’d been using didn’t seem to fit anymore—kissed his way back up until he was able to reach her breasts, catching one with his hand, the other with his mouth. She looked down at him, startled to realize she could see him better now. The mist had shifted, and she caught a glimpse of nearly jet-black hair, coarse and thick and a little long. That seemed strange to her, unexpected, as she thought his hair had been lighter, golden-brown, when she’d first stumbled over him in the tiny glen. His body seemed bigger somehow, more rugged and rough, the chest hair thicker, darker, his muscles far more bulky and commanding.

He had changed, become someone else. At some point, he’d segued from someone she wasn’t sure she wanted into someone she was aching for. But the mist shifted again, and she couldn’t fathom who he was.

Mimi felt too good to care, too aroused to question. She was practically dying now, needing the scene to climax, even if her body already had, at least once. She need to be filled. By one of them. By both of them. Now.

She felt the other—the delicious-smelling stranger she had never even seen—move in tight behind her, his enormous cock nudging between the curves of her ass. She shimmied up and down, wetting him, inviting him, then held her breath, waiting for him to accept the invitation. The thick, huge tip of him nestled closer, teasingly traipsing across her rear opening, then nudging between the swollen lips of her sex.

She held her breath, anticipation flooding her, then finally felt him edge into her body. An inch—she whimpered. Another—she sighed. Another—she was groaning now.

Then his hands clutched her hips and he groaned himself, plunging deep and hard, as if unable to draw this out anymore.

This time, she screamed. He filled her up so deeply, so powerfully, she felt she might break apart. But it was good. So damn good, she honestly didn’t think she’d ever experienced such heady pleasure.

Her other lover twined his hands in her hair and drew her down for a kiss. His mouth was no longer soft and tender; this kiss was hot, deep, hungry. It was like she was kissing another man, different from the one she’d kissed before.

His scent was also familiar now. So incredibly rich and evocative. It was the scent she’d come to associate with the dark stranger riding her from behind.

He was both men. Taking her wildly, thrusting into her with hard, hungry strokes, and yet still below her, kissing her, stroking her breasts, making love to her mouth with his tongue. The same dark, dangerous, powerful stranger. It made no sense, yet she realized it was true. He surrounded her. He was on all sides, in all places, taking her to heights of pleasure she hadn’t even realized were possible.

Then he took her one step higher, and she broke apart into a million satisfied pieces.

She fell, dropping onto him, curling her face into his neck. She was limp, boneless, able to do nothing but lie there and let the last waves of her powerful orgasm dissipate beneath the evening sun. He was still surrounding her, stroking her tenderly, kissing her hair, whispering in her ears, as, still bathed in the glow of ultimate delight, she fell asleep.

6

E
VEN THOUGH HE
was a lieutenant, as the new guy, Xander had had to pull some strings to get a weekend off for his move-in to his new apartment from the extended-stay hotel where he’d been living. So he didn’t complain about the back-to-back shifts that hit him over the next week. Hell, he’d done crazy hours from the time he started volunteering at a firehouse as a teenager.

The guys in the squad had been friendly from the minute he walked through the door, even though some of them might very well resent him for coming in from out of state and walking into a supervisory position. So far, though, he’d had no real problems with anybody, and had, a couple of times, even gone out for an after-an-overnight-shift breakfast, or after-a-day-shift beer with some of his coworkers.

But by late Saturday afternoon, when he returned home after thirty-six hours straight in a firehouse with a bunch of dudes, he really just wanted to chill out and relax. Remembering the plans his landlady had mentioned last weekend, he figured the whole B.Y.O.M. cookout would be a great way to do it.

Especially because Mimi would almost certainly be there.

He’d seen her several times throughout the week, but for the most part, they’d nodded, said “Good morning,” or “Good night,” and gone their separate ways.

She was avoiding him. No doubt about it.

He couldn’t say why, considering how intimate their conversations had been last weekend, but he knew it was true. She didn’t meet his eye as readily, didn’t smile as freely. Tension rolled off her and he’d swear the one time they physically brushed against one another while getting the mail, she’d actually flinched. It was as if sometime Sunday night, between the flirting and the flowers, she’d decided to put up a wall between them and stay on her side of it.

He couldn’t deny, it bugged him. The only thing that bugged him more was that Dimitri had come by twice this week. Once to pick her up and take her to work because her car was in the shop. And once, it looked like, to take her to a fancy dinner.

Xander had bumped into them on their way out. Plastic Dude had been perfectly dressed, all suited up, right down to a flash of gold cuff links at his wrists. Mimi had looked beautiful, of course, but also pale. A little strained.

He would chalk it up to trouble in paradise, but he knew better. That relationship was going absolutely nowhere—anyone could see it, except, perhaps for Dimitri. But Mimi knew. Her eyes were open, she just wasn’t ready to admit it yet.

Xander just wondered how long it was going to take…and whether or not he’d have the patience to wait her out.

Then he thought about the way she’d kissed him, the way she’d felt in his arms, the taste of her mouth, the smell of her hair. And knew he’d wait as long as it took.

He was still smiling at that thought as he parked his car in the driveway late Saturday afternoon. Walking around it toward the house, he caught a glimpse of something colorful out of the corner of his eye, over near the edge of the woods. Curious, he glanced over, just in time to see a figure dressed in bright yellow disappear into the trees.

He’d recognize that red hair anywhere.

Why are you going into the woods?
he wondered.

It was none of his business, and he didn’t even think about following her. Mimi had avoided him all week. The next time the line in the sand got crossed, it would have to be because she’d decided to cross it.

Of course, all his determination and certainty about that flew right out the window when he heard a child’s scream.

He froze in place. Then, not giving it another thought, spun on his heels and ran across the lawn. His feet pounded the ground, digging up clods of grass, and he didn’t even hesitate as he plowed between thick trees and vines, merely shoving them out of the way with his extended hands.

The voice yelled again. “Watch out!”

“Mimi?”

“Catch him!”

He followed the sound and burst into a clearing. Standing at the base of a huge tree was a little boy, probably about six or seven, with a curly mop of light brown hair, a million freckles and anxious eyes. He was staring up at a massive live oak.

And in that live oak was Mimi.

“What the hell?” he said, moving closer. “What’s going on?”

“She’s saving Buster, my cat,” the boy exclaimed. “He got up the tree and can’t get down and he’s gonna fall if she doesn’t save him.”

Mimi had climbed up several limbs and was now about twenty feet off the ground, and all he could think was,
And who’s going to save her?

“Damn it, Mimi, get down from there.”

“Xander?” She peered down at him from above. “No worries—I’m not on a shaky ladder this time. And I checked for bees.”

He rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth. “Would you please climb back down here?”

“But Buster’s scared,” the boy said. “We can’t just leave him up there.” He immediately made to climb the tree himself, but couldn’t reach so much as the bottom limb.

“You stay put,” Xander told him. He moved past the boy and swung himself up onto the nearest branch and began working his way up. “Mimi, I’m coming.”

“Don’t be silly, I’m fine,” she insisted.

And she might have been. Only the stuck, loudly meowing Buster had other ideas. He chose that moment to leap from branch to branch, catching Mimi’s arm with a sharp claw, sending her sliding downward.

“Ow!” she cried, continuing to scrape her way down, unable to grab hold of another branch. She wrapped her arms around the trunk and slid, her legs swinging as she tried to find support.

Fortunately, Xander was there to give it to her. His heart racing, he dove against the trunk directly below her, giving her his body to land on. Her feet came to rest on his shoulders. With an
oomph,
he grabbed her ankles, steadying her. From below they probably looked like a circus act. Two clowns in a tree.

“I’ve got you.”

“Who’s got you?”

“Good question. Hold still.”

She did. Unfortunately, the cat didn’t. It used Mimi as a stepladder, hopping from her arm to her shoulder—tangling a paw in her hair and eliciting a squeal of pain—then skidding down her back and onto Xander’s head.

“Don’t move, cat,” he told the hissing animal, reaching to try to grab it with one hand, while holding Mimi’s ankle with the other.

The feline ignored him, leaping nimbly to the lowest branch, then right down into the extended arms of the boy waiting on the ground below. Safe, and completely oblivious to the mischief he’d caused.

“Buster,” the boy said, “you’re in big trouble. Mom said we weren’t supposed to leave the yard.” He spared a glance up. “Thanks, lady, mister. I should get back now.”

Then, as unconcerned as all kids were once their dramas are over, he skipped out of the clearing, not waiting to see if Mimi was going to make it down. Or if Xander was going to spank her butt for climbing up so high—again—without anyone around to help her. He was seriously considering it.

“I’m going to step out from under you and hold your legs to help guide you down,” he said.

“Are you sure?”

“Got any better ideas?”

She looked down at him, blowing a long strand of hair out of her face, then shook her head.

“What is it with you, me and this position?” he muttered as he looked up at what was becoming his very favorite view.

She grunted, glared, then began to move. Slowly. Carefully.

Gripping her calves, he helped her lower one, and then the other, off his shoulder. His arms flexed, his muscles tightening as he supported her entire body. Little by little, he let her long limbs slide through his hands. Down, down, down she came, until she was standing on the same huge limb, her back to him, still hugging the trunk.

He literally breathed a sigh of relief. Sliding one arm around her waist, he tugged her back against him, holding her close. He couldn’t stop himself from burying his face in her hair, his mouth against her neck, so close he could feel her raging pulse fluttering against his lips.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, reassuring them both.

“Thanks to you,” she replied. She dropped her head back until it rested on his chest, and leaned a little so he had better access to her neck.

He took advantage, kissing her pulse point, then the spot directly behind her ear. She was pressed tightly against him, the pose provocative, her posture willing and pliant. His thoughts were racing crazily, from what might have been had she fallen to what might be now that she was pressing back against him like she wanted to make their clothes disappear.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked, carefully turning her around to face him.

“I’m sure.” She smiled up at him, then reached up and swiped her thick hair off her face. Her cheek was smudged with dirt and a tiny bit of blood where either the cat’s claws or the tree’s bark had nicked her. A few leaves were tangled in her curls, and she had a sappy pine needle stuck to her chin.

And she looked beautiful. So incredibly beautiful.

He was well over his desire to spank her, and went right for the I’m-so-relieved-you’re-okay reaction. He drew her into his arms and hauled her against him, not even caring that they were still a good six or seven feet above solid ground.

She threw her arms around his neck, holding on, and neither of them hesitated before diving together in a hot, hungry kiss. Their tongues met and mated, swirling and exploring. After not having tasted her for a week, he felt like he was ending a hunger strike. She provided all the nourishment he needed, her sweet taste heightened by her sultry woman’s smell.

She shimmied even closer, and he braced a hand behind her, on the tree trunk, to keep them stable as the kiss continued. Everything else disappeared—time, place, the kid, the cat, the job, the other guy. All of it. At least for a little while.

Finally, though, when his body was throbbing with need to do a lot more than kiss, he slowed things down. Because as much as he wanted to continue, there was, of course, the small problem that they were still standing in a tree.

When they finally drew apart to heave in a few breaths, he said, “I thought you weren’t the type to wait around for a man to catch you.”

“Well, just like you promised—you didn’t make me wait.”

They both smiled. Then, by unspoken agreement, began to climb down out of the tree. Xander helped her with the final drop, noticing the way she flinched when his hands encircled her waist. “Are you hurt?”

They both glanced down. During her descent, her bright yellow top had been pulled free of the waistband of her white capris. Now, both shirt and pants were ripped and smeared with stains.

Tugging the shirt up a little, she revealed several flecks of blood on her stomach from where she’d brushed against the rough bark. “Ow,” she mumbled.

“Let me see,” he said, dropping to one knee in front of her for a closer look. He pushed her shirt up higher. Her creamy skin was reddened and scraped in several places, but there were no deep cuts. Still, it had to sting. “You’re going to need to clean these up and put some antiseptic on them,” he said. He lifted a hand and brushed his fingertip right beside the worst scrape. “Especially this one.”

She made a tiny sound of assent. He looked up and saw Mimi had closed her eyes and dropped her head back a little.

She did not look like a woman in pain.

She looked like a woman who’d just been thoroughly kissed, whose partner in that kissing was now kneeling at her feet, inches away from her delectable body.