Cold Sight (30 page)

“Hi.”

“Hi.” He didn’t move away, liking the feel of her silky hair against his fingers, and the warmth of her body so close to his. There was intimacy in the moment and he didn’t want to give it up right away, liking the soft look in her eyes and her languid, sleepy mood.

“I fell asleep here?” she asked with a yawn.

He nodded. “I wasn’t crazy about the idea of you staying alone at your place, anyway, so I just let you be. I didn’t want to wake you up, but you were having a nightmare.”

“Don’t remember it.”

That was probably just as well.

She looked down, seeing he was still dressed, and asked, “Where were you?”

He nodded toward the chair.

“I’m sorry I kept you from your bed.”

“You didn’t. I never actually sleep in it.”

“What
do
you do in it, Aidan?” she asked after the slightest hesitation.

Aidan’s breath slowed, even though his heart rate kicked up a notch. There had been nothing subtle about the question, nor did her suddenly hot stare hold any coyness. They both knew what she was really asking, and what she wanted the answer to be. “Your throat . . .”

“Is fine.” She didn’t seem willing to risk him backing away. Lifting her arms, she twined her fingers in his hair, tugging him closer. “Please, Aidan. I want this. I want you. I want
us
.”

So did he. Oh God, yes. But he didn’t want to hurt her. He’d kissed her yesterday, then worried he could have caused her pain. Now the things he wanted to do to her—with her—well, he didn’t know that he should even allow himself to start until she was one hundred percent well.

“I know it hasn’t been very long since we met. But I’ve experienced things with you that I haven’t shared with people I’ve known for years.”

“Ditto,” he said, thinking particularly of their dream. And of the instant desire he’d felt for her, which had almost immediately overcome his natural resistance to touching anyone.

“We could dance around this, keep dreaming and thinking about it and satisfy whatever convention that says nice people wait until they’ve known each other a month before having sex,” she whispered. “But frankly, I just don’t want to.”

He let her pull him closer, until their lips were close enough to share a breath. Their stares met one more time, silently acknowledging how far they’d come and where this was going. What it meant, he couldn’t say. He only knew he had to have her.

“You’re absolutely certain?”

“
Yes
,” she growled. “And if you ask me that again I’ll have to hit you.”

“I guess you are feeling better if you’re threatening me with bodily injury,” he teased.

But his laughter quickly faded. Unwilling to resist his overwhelming desire for her—and hers for him—Aidan didn’t wait any longer before eliminating the sliver of air that separated them. He covered her mouth with his, gently at first, savoring the softness of her beautiful lips, the taste that was uniquely Lexie. She groaned, deep in her throat, twining her hands harder in his hair even as she tilted her head. Arching up toward him, she pressed against his body, her feminine curves the perfect complement to his hardness.

Aidan moved over her, onto the couch, holding his weight off her, but letting their legs tangle and their hips meet. She made no secret of what she wanted, thrusting her tongue against his, demanding the passion, the heat he’d worried she wasn’t physically capable of handling.

She was handling it, all right. Taking every warm touch he offered, throwing accelerant on it, and turning it into an inferno.

“God, Lex,” he muttered against her mouth before plunging his tongue deep. He ground against her, knowing that as good it felt to be between her clothed thighs, being between her naked ones was going to drive him out of his ever-loving mind.

Not content with devouring just her mouth, he tasted his way across to her jaw, then down the side of her neck. He slowed to press warm, tender kisses to the bruises on her throat, wishing he could take away the pain, determined to at least make her forget it for a while.

Any farther downward progress was halted by her clothes. He pulled away from her, wanting to see, feel, and taste every bare inch of her. Lexie sat up and wriggled to help him, tugging at the soft sweater. Aidan gently pushed her hands away, pulling it up himself, avoiding her bruises. He didn’t want to risk even the scrape of fabric against her injured skin.

Once it was gone, he had to just drink her in, feeling hot blood rush through him, heat pulsing in his groin as the desire he’d already thought was overwhelming built to an even greater inferno. “Beautiful,” he said, staring at her, now clad in only her jeans and a pretty, pale pink bra that wasn’t nearly as attractive as the curves it contained.

Lexie pushed at him, until he was sitting up on the couch. Then she rose to her feet, standing right in front of him.

It was still a few minutes before sunrise, but the light coming in through the slotted blinds on the front windows had already begun to take on that purplish hue that came whenever midnight melted into morning. Lexie seemed a part of both—as darkly sensual as the night, but as beautiful and breathtaking as the dawn.

He wanted her with every ounce of his soul.

Standing before him, Lexie saw the intense, covetous look on Aidan’s face. And, in that moment, she realized what she’d been missing all her adult life. She’d had sex before. She’d had relationships before. But she’d never been absolutely devoured by the ravenous stare of a man desperate to have her or die trying. Not once.

“I want you, too,” she admitted, though he had said nothing. He hadn’t needed to. She got it.

Never taking her eyes off him, she reached around and unclasped her bra. She dipped one shoulder, letting the strap fall. Then the other, and the lacy fabric dropped onto the floor.

He stared, hissed, and the tension rose.

When he reached for her, she shook her head, backing up a step. Once she was back in his arms, she wanted absolutely no impediment, nothing to stop him from thrusting into her and taking her until his body became an extension of her own.

She reached for her waistband, unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, then pushed them down. Kicking them off, she remained there, nearly naked, wearing only the skimpiest of underwear, letting him look the way she knew he wanted to.

“Ask me that question again—the one you asked at the game. About whether you’re sexy,” he growled.

When she moved her fingers to the elastic edge of her panties, he stopped her. Putting his big, warm hands on her hips, his fingers squeezing her bottom, he drew her closer, until his mouth was an inch from her stomach. His warm exhalations flowed over her skin, bringing goose bumps and the most delicious sense of anticipation.

“There it is,” he murmured.

She didn’t know what he meant until he pressed his hot mouth to her hip, kissing her birthmark, which was shaped as if it had been formed solely for this man to taste.

And suddenly she recalled their shared dream, where that wicked mouth had moved when it had left her hip. “Oh God,” she whispered, every inch of her remembering at once. Remembering—and wanting to do everything they’d done then, for real this time.

Every single thing.

Aidan rose from the couch, his hands and mouth brushing against her every inch of the way until he stood right in front of her. His thick, muscular arms flexed as he pulled his shirt up and off. And it was her turn to stare, stunned that he truly was as perfectly formed, as utterly magnificent, as she’d dreamed him to be. Thick shouldered, broad chested, with a flat, muscled stomach and lean hips, the man should star in every woman’s most erotic dreams.

But only in her reality. At least for now.

He drew her closer, until her hard nipples scraped in the wiry hair on his chest. She quivered, even that tiny contact sending spasms of delight through her.

Knowing, already, just how to touch her, just how she liked it, Aidan lifted a big hand to her breast. She arched back, wanting more, and he gave it to her, bending to cover her incredibly sensitive nipple with his mouth. He licked lightly, then sucked hard and both sensations competed to be the one that would make her legs give out first.

She didn’t know which won. She just knew that suddenly he was supporting her weight, his strong arm around her waist as he bent her back so he could lavish attention on her breasts, her throat, her neck. Feeling like she was on fire, she ran her hands over as much of him as she could reach, marveling at the coiled strength of the man. He let her, until she touched the front of his jeans. Then he stood her upright and backed up a bit.

“Uh-uh.”

She frowned. “You still have way too many clothes on.”

“Not for long, angel.” He unfastened his pants, let them gape open, but didn’t take them off right away. Instead, he pulled her back into his arms, pushing at her underwear, sending them to the floor. “Are you on something?”

She nodded, knowing what he meant.

“Good.”

Oh, it was going to be very good. So very good. She had no doubt of that.

Aidan shoved his pants and boxer briefs down, and Lexie smiled, seeing all that male power, knowing it was going to feel amazing when buried inside her.

He continued to stroke her, all sizzling heat but also sweet, erotic tension. When he moved a hand between her legs, she quivered, a tiny cry emerging from her throat as he slid his fingers into her damp core.

That helpless, desperate cry seemed to finally drive him over the edge. “Come here,” he ordered, backing up and again sitting on the couch. He pulled her down, too, so she straddled him.

She didn’t hesitate, didn’t tease or build this any more because, honestly, she was just too desperate. Instead, Lexie eased down onto his shaft, taking him into herself inch by inch until the man had utterly and completely filled her.

Nothing had ever felt this good. Not. One. Thing.

Throwing her head back and closing her eyes, she savored every sensation, took his every upward thrust, answering it, meeting him, rocking with him as wave after wave of delight rolled over her. It seemed to go on forever, and, in fact, their bodies were sweaty, bathed with bright sunlight when she finally heard his breaths grow choppy and a little hoarse.

“Yes,” she whispered, pressing her mouth to his for a deep, warm kiss.

He twined his hands in her hair, stroking her, cupping her head, just like he had in the dream. Just like then, the sweet tenderness of it made her feel utterly cherished and wanted.

There was one more thing that happened just like in the dream. Aidan wouldn’t let himself finish until she had. It wasn’t until she cried out in delight, shaking as waves of her orgasm threw her into an ocean of physical pleasure, that his thrusts grew frenzied and he let himself go to the deep end, too.

Afterward, she sagged down onto him, her arms draped around his shoulders. Without leaving her, Aidan shifted and pulled her down to lay on top of him on the couch. And together, still joined, they fell back to sleep.

Sunday, 9:25 a.m.

Aidan awoke with a start, unsure for a second where he was, or why he felt a weight on his chest. Seeing Lexie curled up on top of him, memory instantly flooded back.

Hot, steamy memory.

He smiled, stroking her naked hip, careful to avoid the bandaged spots where she’d been scraped against the bricks yesterday. She had to be sore, but the cries coming out of her mouth a few hours ago had sounded like anything but pain. The woman sleeping so peacefully against his chest had been wild and sensual, wanting everything, and then wanting it again.

He wished he had the whole day to give it to her. Wished this dark cloud hanging over the town, and them, would disappear so they could maybe try to act like a normal couple at the start of something pretty intense, as they both knew they were. How, he couldn’t say. But they both knew.

He glanced at the clock, realizing they had only about an hour and a half until the world intruded. About to slide out from under her, pick her up and go find that bed he so seldom used, he flinched when a knock sounded on the front door. And he suddenly realized that sound was what had awoken him in the first place.

Julia and the others had promised to be back at around eleven, and he couldn’t imagine them showing up this early without calling. But a quick glance through the sheers on the window right behind the couch confirmed Julia’s silver car was parked out front, exactly where it had been last night.

“Hell!” He bent to kiss the top of Lexie’s head, whispering, “Hey, wake up. Your parents got home from the movies early and they’re about to catch us naked on the couch.”

“Rats, busted,” she mumbled sleepily. Then the doorbell rang, and her eyes flew open. She jerked her head up, looked around, and said, “What time is it?”

“Ninety minutes before they were supposed to be here,” he said with an annoyed frown.

“Oh my God!” She leapt to her feet, looking frantically around the room for their clothes, as if she really were that busted teen or a cheating spouse.

“Calm down. Take your time,” he said, amused by her un-Lexie-like panic. “I was kidding about getting caught—they can’t come in; they don’t have a key.”

The words had no sooner left his mouth than he heard the distinctive squeak his front door made when it was slowly opened. Julia called, “Knock-knock! Aidan? We’ve been standing out here forever. Where are you?”

Lexie’s mouth fell open in shock. “You forgot to lock the door?” Diving on her clothes, she started yanking them on, not even glancing at tags or attempting to make sure things weren’t inside out.

“Hold on; I’ll be right out,” he called, trying to remember where the hell he’d thrown his pants. “Just a second.”

“What are you . . . Oh, hell, sorry!” Julia said.

She hadn’t waited. Right now, she stood in the arched doorway, apparently having gotten quite an eyeful. Throwing her hands over those eyes—a little too late—she began to back away. Somebody was apparently behind her because she said, “Back up. He needs a minute.”