Intimate Strangers (7 page)

Shock flared in his eyes. "My God," he muttered between gritted teeth.

Hannah felt the change in him—the tightening of his musculature, the heat rolling off of him in waves. She trembled as she stood in the shadow of his large body. Closing her eyes, she bowed her head. He slid his fingertips under her chin and tilted her face up to his view.

She met his gaze, no longer willing to deny or to conceal her confusion. "I’m frightened."

Nicholas shook his head. "Don’t be. I just want to hold you. Nothing more."

"Why?"

A combination of vulnerability and raw male hunger flashed in those steely eyes. "It’s just something I need to do."

She possessed not a single defense against his candor, because she found it so unexpected. She went willingly as he drew her into his arms, fitting her to his hard length by smoothing his hands down her back and over her hips. She felt him shudder, and she finally realized that he was equally unprepared for this nameless thing happening between them.

Hannah sighed, resting her cheek against his shoulder. She savored being surrounded by his strength, the sense of safety she found in his arms. No man had ever made her feel more precious, more alive, or more protected.

The incongruity of his behavior hit her like a sudden slap across the face. She felt his tempered strength, his hands gentle as he stroked her back and threaded his fingers through her thick, shoulder–length hair. His earlier harshness, obviously designed to provoke terror as he’d crouched over her in the van, had stunned her. As she stood before him now, Hannah vowed to solve the puzzle posed by Nicholas Benteen, just as she would discover why Sean had abandoned all contact with his family.

She regretted his absence the instant he released her and walked away, although she respected his inclination to honor his word. As she watched, he paused, keeping his back to her. He gripped the edge of the granite counter top with both hands.

They were strangers—strangers who shared an instinctive intimacy unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Whatever the reason for the attraction that repeatedly flared between them, they could not risk allowing it to spin out of control, but neither could she just stand there like some helpless fool. Helplessness wasn’t a word in her personal lexicon.

She crossed the kitchen, reached out, and smoothed her fingers over one of his white–knuckled fists. "You’re a very gentle man. I think I first realized it in the van. You could have hurt me, but you didn’t. Someday, I hope you’ll tell me why you tried to frighten me half out of my mind. I don’t think it was something as simple as your trying to run me off."

It was then that she noticed the muscle ticking in his upper jaw, but she forged ahead, trying to keep the lines of communication open between them. "Did I say something wrong?"

He shook his head and straightened, but strain remained etched into his hard–featured face. "Nothing at all."

"Why do you live here all alone?"

"Get some sleep, Hannah." He sounded too weary for words. "It’s a long drive back to St. Louis."

She smiled. "Now you sound like Sean. He always thought if he ignored me, I’d leave him alone. It never worked. Still doesn’t."

Taking her by the hand, he turned off the light and led her out of the kitchen. Less than a minute later, they stood facing one another at the entrance to the guest room.

"Is he alright?" Hannah asked.

"Sean is not a subject I’ll discuss with anyone."

"Has he become like you?" she pressed, willing to be reckless.

He grabbed her shoulders. "Don’t do this."

"Is Sean all closed up and cut off from his emotions, too? If he’s become that way, then I need to know before I see him."

Nicholas swore, the word explosive, brutal. Hannah jerked with surprise. She tried to step back, but she only succeeded in losing her balance. His hands shot out, and he steadied her.

"I must know." She felt desperate for any bit of information that could help her, even if it meant pushing Nicholas well beyond the edge of his tolerance.

His fingers dug into her waist. "Stop hammering at me."

"I can’t!" Tears stung her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks as she stared up at him. "Why won’t you understand? I cannot stop. Too much is at stake."

He swept her forward, his arms circling about her. He smothered her cry of panic by settling his mouth over her lips. Hannah struggled, fighting his superior strength. His frustration with her was apparent, and she knew she’d earned whatever she’d provoked as she fought her body’s instinctive welcome of his potent sensual assault.

She felt the change in him the instant his anger turned to hunger. He traced her lips with the tip of his tongue. Hannah moaned in capitulation, almost ashamed that she sounded so relieved and hungry for the taste of him.

He sipped and bit and ate at her mouth, his hands gripping her waist. His tongue plunged deep. He feasted on her, faint tremors of need racking his large body.

All the while, Hannah ignored the shrill voice of caution in her mind. Instead, she responded wholeheartedly, parting her lips to welcome the intrusive thrust of his tongue, her own darting forward, stroking, tasting, and tempting in an erotic, incendiary duel. She savored every bit of his desire for her as he explored her mouth. He tantalized the sensitive flesh behind her lips, deepening his exploration of her sweet heat with sweeping strokes of his tongue.

She skimmed her fingers up and over his broad shoulders before sliding them into the thick, dark hair that curled at his neck. A heartbeat later he filled his hands with her breasts, measuring the fullness he found there, plucking at her tightly–beaded, silk–covered nipples until she thought she might scream from the feverish pleasure threatening to overwhelm her.

Hannah sensed that Nicholas Benteen would be the fiercest kind of lover—the kind of lover who would demand every bit as much as he gave—the kind of lover capable of allowing her to reveal the passions that ran deeply in her nature.

Trembling as his hands moved lower, she felt her stomach muscles quiver when he smoothed his knuckles back and forth across her abdomen. A starburst of sensations exploded within her. Hannah shifted even closer, the need to crawl beneath his skin nearly obscuring her connection to reality as streamers of fire unfurled in her bloodstream.

Aching for Nicholas, she welcomed the images flashing across her mind of their bodies joined in the ultimate intimacy. She savored the feel of his strong fingers as he cupped her hips and brought her against his swollen, throbbing loins. Hannah sighed into his mouth, the power of his need and the stunning reality of her own nearly mindless craving to mate with him devastating her senses.

Without a hint of warning, Nicholas tore his mouth free of her lips. She felt as though her soul had been ripped in two when he jerked back from her. She clutched his forearms to steady herself. His ragged breathing matched hers as they stared at each other.

She saw the shock in his eyes. Although she longed to fling herself back into his arms and insist that he continue his assault on her senses, she withdrew her hands and backed away from him. The insanity of her behavior jolted through her like a thunderclap. She felt stunned and disbelieving, her emotions reduced to so much rubble in the aftermath of the storm that had swept over them.

They were strangers, she reminded herself. Intimate strangers fated to be adversaries because of her search for her brother. She knew it was insane to think or to hope that they could ever be anything more.

As she stared up at Nicholas, Hannah raised trembling fingers to her swollen lips. With his head thrown back, his eyes closed, and his entire body corded with strain, he reminded her of a warrior in the heat of a fierce battle, a battle she didn’t completely comprehend.

Awash in uncertainty, she feared he’d chosen to use any tactic available to him in order to silence her. Any tactic, she thought, up to and including seduction. While her common sense suggested that that was exactly what he’d just done, she still prayed that he’d touched her out of desire and not as the result of his need to manipulate her into submission.

Hannah sagged against the doorframe. Lifting her hands, she pressed her fingertips to her temples to ease the dull pain throbbing there. All the while, she again tried to convince herself that she hadn’t driven Nicholas to the point that he’d decided to shut her up any way he knew how. She failed in both endeavors.

"This can’t happen again," he told her in a low, grit–filled voice.

"If my brother has become at all like you, then it’s a good thing I didn’t wait any longer to search for him."

He reached for her. "Hannah…"

She ducked away from his hands, certain that if he touched her again she would throw herself directly into his arms. Turning away from him without a backward glance, she fled his sad eyes, the bleak expression etched into his harshly carved face, and the knowledge that she still craved the intimacy and intensity of his possession.

After locking her bedroom door, she crawled into bed and tugged the covers up to her chin. Hannah fought the urge to weep. And each time she thought about the vulnerability she’d seen in Nicholas Benteen’s eyes, she clenched her fists at her sides and told herself to quit crediting the man with human qualities.

He’d tried to seduce her, she decided, as a mean by which to distract her from the real purpose of her trip. He didn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt, although a part of her longed to give it to him.

The tension in her body slowly retreated. Hannah fell asleep, too emotionally bruised and physically depleted to resist her body’s need for rest.

** ** **

Nicholas walked into the kitchen late the following morning. He didn’t bother to disguise his ugly mood as he glowered at Hannah.

She glanced cautiously at him and then returned her attention to the platter she was filling with scrambled eggs and bacon. She kept her thoughts to herself as she added several slices of buttered toast to the side of the platter.

Nicholas blamed her for a sleepless night and the low–level state of arousal that still tortured his body. He felt like a fool for allowing her mere presence, whether or not she knew it, to bring into sharp focus the loneliness that had been his constant companion in recent years. He considered her a disruptive force in the parcel of the world under his control, and he vowed to put an end to the situation as quickly as possible.

Nicholas hadn’t bothered to return to the master suite after their late night confrontation. Instead, he’d spent the intervening hours in his study. Frustrated with his inability to concentrate on his work, he grew more and more annoyed with Hannah.

He’d monitored her throughout the night and well into the morning hours. Thanks to his sophisticated security system, he knew the instant she’d left her bed, showered, and dressed. He tracked her movement through the house as she made her way to the kitchen, courtesy of a bevy of motion sensors and a few well–placed microphones. Once she initiated breakfast preparations, he allowed himself the time to shower and dress for the day.

"Do you ever do anything besides eat?" He filled a mug with coffee before he slouched that long, muscular body against the edge of the countertop.

Hannah swallowed a laugh. "Aren’t we in a good mood this morning."

She looked far more rested than she had any right to after what he knew had been a very restless night. Clad once again in her leggings, sweater, and hiking boots, Hannah resembled a model in an advertising campaign for the all–American woman.

Although his instincts insisted that she was as harmless as she appeared, past experience continued to urge him to err on the side of caution. Ulterior motives possessed the power to pervert the most decent of people.

"Eggs and bacon?" she asked.

"I see you’ve made yourself at home." His chagrin underscored every word.

A hint of wariness showed in her expression as she returned his gaze. "I love exploring new places. Besides, your kitchen is very organized, so I didn’t have any trouble finding what I needed."

"Obviously."

Nicholas watched her place the full platter in the center of the table, settle into a chair, and reach for her napkin. Although he noticed the slight tremor in her fingers, he said nothing.

"Please join me." She smiled as she looked up at him. "We really do need to talk."

His grip tightened on the mug he held. He recalled her sweet taste and the feel of her shapely body as they’d explored the passion that had exploded between them. He forced himself beyond those sensory memories, reminding himself that she couldn’t remain in his home.

"Wrong. You need to listen. I suspect it will be a new experience for you."

He heard her soft sigh and saw the instant that the hopeful expression disappeared from her heart–shaped face. His body responded to the sound, his emotions to her disappointment. Nicholas loathed the idea of hurting Hannah, but he considered his response to her a weakness fueled by sexual desire. Nothing more. It couldn’t be anything more.

The lives of those who resided in the more remote sections of his property depended upon his vigilance. Their loyalty and friendship, not simply their collective need for a retreat from the world of violence they’d endured and survived, made him willing to carry the burden of protecting them. It didn’t matter that he no longer commanded them on battlefields across the globe. What truly mattered was that he considered them his family, and he would guard against anyone he deemed capable of harming them.

Nicholas refocused on Hannah’s face. When he noticed her curious expression, he felt a reluctant kind of gratitude that she didn’t feel compelled to hammer at him with questions about the current state of his mind.

"I’m more than willing to listen to what you have to say, but conversation is a two–way street where I come from, so I’ll expect you to return the courtesy." Hannah took a sip of her orange juice before reaching for her fork.

"Don’t hold your breath."

She smiled gently. "The eggs are getting cold."