Fury of Desire (38 page)

Wick stifled a snort. Totally laughable. He was about as modest as a peacock in full preen. He just preferred to fly below the radar before he showed his true colors, that was all.

Limp more pronounced than before, she skirted the end of the bed. Giving him a wide berth, she walked behind him. His skin tingled as her aura flared, ringing her body,
making her glow from the inside out. Wick inhaled deep and exhaled smooth. She stopped at his workstation and, reaching out, fingered his brushes, then turned her attention to the assortment of tubes littering the tabletop. She touched each one, bypassing blue, green, and red to pick up ochre yellow.

Wick shifted his weight from one foot to the other. As his bare feet brushed over the wood floor, he flexed his hands, telling himself to be patient, but… Jesus. Less than five feet away. She stood so close, yet still too fucking far away.

His dragon half urged him to move, close the distance and walk up behind her. Instinct warned him to wait. Attuned to her mood, he felt her tension as clearly as his own. She was stalling for a reason. Maybe for time. Maybe for space. Maybe for a bit of both. Whatever the case, Wick refused to rush her. If she needed him to back off and—

“All right,” she whispered, the strain in her voice palpable as she turned to face him. Taking a deep breath, she met his gaze head-on. “I’m ready now.”

Concern washed through him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.” The rough edge of his voice made her flinch. “I want your honesty. Every bit of it, Jamison.”

“All right. I guess I owe you that much,” she said, looking so unsure he bled for her. “Being alone with you makes me nervous. I know it’s stupid. I mean, you’ve touched me before and everything, but right now I’m…”

He raised a brow as she trailed off.

She bit down on her bottom lip. “Extremely coherent. As in, no drugs in my system.”

“Are you afraid I’ll hurt—”

“No,” she said, her denial so quick it soothed his pride. Made Wick believe he could help her while he helped himself. “I know you would never hurt me.”

“But?” he asked, prompting her, encouraging her to talk to him.

A furrow between her brows, she looked away, then back again, letting him see her vulnerability. The sight made him ache for her. He knew what it felt like to be insecure and uncertain. To live with unease every damned day. But as he waited for her to continue, patient in the wake of her silence, Wick wanted nothing more than to soothe her. To carry her burden, banish all the angst and replace it with comfort and confidence.

“Look, if you really want the truth, I’ll be honest. I came in here with every intention of getting close to you, but one look at you, like that and… God, Wick. You’re so strong. So much bigger than I am, and…” Shaking her head, she blew out a shaky breath. “It’s second nature for me to protect myself. My track record sucks. I’ve never been with a guy who hasn’t hurt me, and even trusting that you won’t, I’m just… I don’t know… freaking out a little.”

“I understand, Jamison.” He really did. His hands-off policy predated the Second World War. A helluva long time to live in darkness, without the warmth of another’s touch. But here… right now… in the presence of a female he couldn’t resist, Wick saw a chance to change tack and head in a healthier direction. Fear was a terrible thing, and trust more than just about knowing. It was about showing. So instead of backing away, he took his hands from his pockets and stepped toward her. When she didn’t shy, he raised his arm and held out his hand, palm up, in invitation. “Come,
vanzäla.
Let me show you how gentle I can be.”

The entreaty surprised him. The meaning behind it even more so.

He’d never thought of himself as a gentle male. A killer without conscience? Without a doubt. But as Jamison slipped her much-smaller hand into his, trusting him to keep his word, Wick reevaluated, seeing himself in a new light. Maybe change was possible. Maybe he wasn’t destined to be alone. Maybe… just maybe… he’d finally met his match.

With a gentle tug, Wick drew her into the circle of his arms. J. J. shivered in reaction, but let it happen. Resistance wouldn’t help her solve the mystery. Nor give her what she longed to collect… answers that would unlock the paradox he presented. Intense warrior vibe. Comforting touch delivered by gentle hands. Delicious dichotomy. Beautiful polarity. And as she waited—breath hitching, heart thumping, uncertainty rising—she wondered what he would do next.

Pick her up. Lay her down. Strip her bare.

All seemed like excellent possibilities. The kind most girls wanted. Problem was…

She wasn’t
most
girls. Not with her past and prison record. History had taught her caution. Her ex had taught her fear. So the question—the one she really needed to answer… and fast—went something like: respond with the desire she already felt or run scared?

Her hand still in his, J. J. exhaled long and slow. Such a big decision. So little time to decide which way to jump. Stay and discover. Or run and hide. The second option was the safest, but the first tugged at her, urging her to be brave. To
move forward instead of away. To take what she wanted for a change and seize the moment.

So few opportunities, after all, ever came her way.

Good thing fate had a funny sense of humor, tossing her into circumstance, feeding on her curiosity, making her yearn to know him. Really
know
him every way a woman could a man. And as he closed his arms around her, and she settled into the hard curve of his body, J. J. let it all go. Every bad deed done. Every hurt suffered. Every punishment received. She deserved to know. Had earned the right to explore, and to a little happiness. So here… now… today, she would find the courage to reach for what she wanted. No fear. No second guessing. Self-preservation be damned.

The thought made her smile.

His eyes reflected her mood, shimmering like golden stars as Wick pressed her closer. Her palms met the wall of his bare chest and… oh my. Skin on skin. The zap of physical and emotional connection, two souls reaching out to touch each other. Instant recognition. J. J. perceived the shift, felt her world tilt on its axis, heard his low growl before she relaxed and leaned in, moving toward the inevitable instead of away.

Her cheek brushed the wall of his chest, then touched down over his heart. The steady thump picked her up, making hers catch and tumble until it kept time with his. Unable to resist, she caressed his shoulder. Muscles rippled beneath her fingertips, chasing her chill away.

“Beautiful,” she whispered, her head nestled beneath his chin. In an exploratory frame of mind, she played, allowing her hands free rein. Her touch soft, she stroked over his biceps, then changed direction. Brushing over the tops of shoulders, she moved lower to draw gentle circles down
his spine. A tremor rumbled through him. She sighed, marveling at the incredible size and strength of him. “You’re always so warm.”

“Curse of a fire dragon.”

No way. Not even close to a
curs
e. She liked that his temperature ran hot. “Do you breathe fire?”

“Kind of,” he said, his voice hoarse as she continued to caress him. Getting in on the action, Wick flicked at her T-shirt. J. J. sucked in a quick breath as his hand dipped beneath the cotton hem. Fingers spread wide, he palmed the small of her back. She arched. He took advantage of her slight twist and slid his free hand beneath the fall of her hair to cup the nape of her neck. White-hot sensation slithered down her spine. As her breath caught, he dipped his head, brushing his mouth against her temple. “My exhale is candy coated. Three layers of deadly. Magma surrounded by poisonous gas… fire on the outside.”

“A fireball with attitude.” As he chuckled, she rubbed her cheek against his. Day-old whiskers scraped across her skin. Hmm, yeah. She’d made the right decision. He was going to feel so unbelievably good in bed. “Must set the Razorbacks back on their heels.”

“That’s the idea.” Retreating a little, he raised his head and met her gaze. Molten heat made his golden eyes shimmer, sending shockwaves through her. Holding her immobile, he shifted his hips, pressing the bulge behind his button fly against her belly. “Where we going with this, Jamison?”

Ah, and there it was. The demand for truth. Do or die time.

Rubbing her lips together, she dragged her gaze from his and glanced over her shoulder. A messy tangle of
rumpled sheets, the bed sat in the center of the room. No more than ten feet away. A ripple of excitement shivered through her. Desire picked up the cue, sending her sideways, urging boldness, making her give him the honesty he demanded earlier.

“We’re going over there,” she said, a husky shiver in her voice. “I plan to take you to bed.”

His grip on her nape tightened. “Is that a fact?”

“It is.”

“Probably should warn you, then.”

“About what?”

“I’m not good at this shit,
vanzäla.
Never had much practice,” he murmured, color spreading across the tops of his cheekbones. “I don’t know how to please you in bed.”

Tension rode each syllable, infusing his admission with emotion. Shame. Humiliation. Raw honesty. Wick owned every bit of it. And as his words tore at her heart, J. J. felt herself tumble down a slippery slope and straight into love. The fierce kind that came with compassion and a healthy dose of respect. For Wick’s courage. For his honor. For the vulnerability he showed her.

Beautiful, uncompromising man.

He might be strong—without equal physically—but Daimler was right. He needed her to show him the way. Back to himself. Into the man he was meant to become. And as he looked away, unable to meet her gaze, she yearned not only to soothe him, but to prove he was more capable than he believed.

Confidence, after all, came to those who practiced.

“Wanna know a secret?” Cupping his jaw, she forced him to look at her.

“Sure.”

“Your inexperience makes us even, because I don’t know what pleases me either.” His brows popped up. J. J. fought the urge to smile. God, he was adorable, unlike anyone she’d ever met. A good man in every way that counted. He wasn’t anything like her ex. Quite the opposite, in fact. Adam hadn’t cared whether he pleased her or not. Never given her an orgasm, either. But Wick? She could already feel the slow build of sexual attraction. The explosion hovered a breath away, making her blood sing, infusing her with the need to touch while being touched in return. And oh baby, she couldn’t wait for him to take control and make it happen. “So how about we make a deal. You do what pleases you, and we’ll discover if it pleases me too.”

He threw her a dubious look.

Balanced on her good foot, she raised up on her tiptoe. Her mouth brushed his. His breath caught. She pushed her hands into his hair. Hmm, so soft. So thick. Pure heaven. A place she couldn’t resist, and as J. J. played in the dark strands, raking her short nails over his scalp, she purred. The sound of pleasure made him vibrate in her embrace. She made it again and brushed her lips against his, kissing his disbelief away. He inhaled hard and fast. Pushing her advantage, J. J. nipped his bottom lip, then delved deep, invading his mouth with a quick stroke of her tongue.

The sharp taste of cinnamon made her moan. Mmm, mmm good. He tasted like spiced candy, a slice of the darkly erotic on a lazy afternoon. Decadence in all its glory. Beyond sinful as he opened his mouth, submitting beneath the onslaught. Bliss danced across her skin as his hands traveled over her bare back, setting her alight with desire. With want and a yearning so deep, she struggled to contain it… and take her time. She didn’t want to rush him, but—

“Holy fuck, baby.” Done following her lead, he growled against her mouth. “You taste so damned good.”

Super to know. Better to experience. “Kiss me again.”

“I’m gonna kiss you all over.” His arms tightened around her as he dipped his head and took the lead, teasing her with the flick of his tongue. She egged him on, asking for more, begging him with each kiss. Giving her everything she demanded, he turned and walked her backward. The bed. Oh God. Fantastic idea. She needed to lay him down… or be laid down. J. J. didn’t care how it happened, just as long as it happened fast. “Between your thighs too. Right on your curls.”

The promise sounded like a threat. A delicious one, but for one thing. She’d never actually, well… ah, done that. Or rather, had that done to her.

Her legs bumped the edge of the bed.

Palming her waist, Wick picked her up. She went weightless for a moment. Cotton sighed as her shoulder blades settled on the sheets. His thigh between hers, he followed her down, caging her with his body, chest rising and falling on harsh exhales. Golden eyes full of promise, he shoved at her shirt. The material brushed over her torso, rising to expose her bra. Racy rather than plain, the frilly lingerie didn’t hide much. His nostrils flared as he shifted onto one elbow. Awe winged across his face a second before his fingertips touched down, caressing her nipple through the lace. He lowered his head. She moaned in anticipation. Please, God. She wanted him to—

His mouth touched down. Heat exploded, spreading over her skin.