More Than Strangers (11 page)

His voice resembled a growl. “At least an hour.”

The caresses continued. Her tongue darted. Her teeth grazed. Her hands explored his back before reaching around to trail up his stomach. She traced each abdominal muscle as her lips continued to roam.

He closed his eyes. His erection strained painfully against his trousers. “I want that towel off you.”

Soft feminine laughter accompanied her reply. “You’ll have to drop your pants.”

More than willing to comply, he unbuckled his belt. He stepped forward to give himself room to maneuver. He couldn’t kick off his pants and boxers soon enough. When he turned, he found her staring at his groin.

“Your turn,” he rasped.

She ran her tongue over her lower lip before biting down. It was a nervous habit. He brushed the back of his hand over the swell of her still-covered breasts. “Need a hand?”

Shaking her head, she untucked the corner holding the towel in place. It fell to the bed a second later. She picked it up dropped it on the floor.

Just watching her made blood pool to his groin.

She scooted back before sitting primly on the bed. Her voice held a teasing note. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’d forgotten how beautiful you are,” he murmured as his gaze raked her from head to toe. An instant later, her skin turned from white to pink. The blush brought back memories of the night they once shared. “You have no idea how much you turn me on.”

“There are some visual clues.” She made a vague motion with her head. Her russet lashes lowered. His penis responded to the attention.

Her question was a whispered plea. “What will it take for you to kiss me?”

He knelt on the bed and laced his fingers through her hair. Cradling her nape with both hands, he tilted her head so her mouth was at the desired angle. The tips of her breasts brushed his abdomen as they rose and fell.

He bent his head and closed his mouth over hers. He didn’t have the control not to devour. He held her captive as he plundered, drawing her tongue into his mouth before exploring her depths with his own tongue. Her slender fingers clutched the hairs on his chest. Her lids fluttered closed as she made a sound of surrender.

With a groan, he dropped his hands to cup her shoulders. She bit his lower lip. He trailed his palms down her silky arms. She raked his chest with blunt fingernails. He ended the kiss so he could lower his head and close his mouth over her rosy nipple. She cried out. The small nub swelled as he circled it with his tongue. He spanned her waist with his hands as he switched to her other breast. He felt her sway and lowered her onto the crisp white sheets.

When he had taken his fill of her breasts, he kissed his way down her belly. He passed her navel and didn’t stop. Her fingers wove through his hair. “Jason—”

He grabbed her bottom with both hands before flexing his wrists to urge her thighs apart.

She made a protesting sound. “I’ve never—”

“I know.” He parted her slick wet folds. She moaned and tried to move back. He kept her in place.

Her scent surrounded him. Her taste intoxicated him. He couldn’t stop even if he tried. She whimpered when he circled her clit with his tongue. He did it again and again. She struggled to close her knees but was hindered by his shoulders. Her fingers dug into the mattress. “It’s too much—”

Keeping one hand at her lower beck, he pressed the other between her legs. He probed her with his fingers and felt her clench around them. With a few more flicks of his tongue, her entire body spasmed.

*

Nulli sighed. Her muscles felt like mush. It was impossible to move. She felt Jason’s weight pressing down on her. She opened her eyes to meet his hazel gaze.

Mesmerized, she lifted her hands and rested them against his chest. His skin was damp with sweat. His muscles bulged. His breaths were harsh. She could feel his heart pounding against her fingertips. Without thought, her thighs parted so he could nestle between them.

He drew her lower lip into his mouth. He sucked and bit until it felt swollen and numb. His hands were everywhere—milking her breasts, spanning her waist, kneading her bottom. She flattened her palms against hard muscle before tracing each ridge with the tips of her fingers. Looping her arms under his, she clung to his broad shoulders as he sucked burning marks on her neck.

Each unconscious writhe brought her body against a wall of strength and heat. The feel of skin against skin heightened her need to have him inside her. Her arms dropped. She clawed at the crisp sheets when he moved to lavish attention on each of her breasts. Her hips lifted in an invitation he refused to accept, and the empty ache grew into a burning fury as his teeth tormented one nipple and then the other.

She needed to feel him slide into her. She needed him to fill her. She spread her legs farther even though he made no move to give her what she wanted.

He traced the underside of each breast with his tongue. He sucked and bit her sensitized skin as he drew a line from her rib cage to her navel. Then she felt his tongue probing her once more. She panted her frustration, her hands clenching over cloth as she struggled to crest a new high. She closed her eyes only to see red and white shadows as an invisible thread wound tighter and tighter inside her.

She drew her legs up and wide, her knees bending to accommodate the breadth of Jason’s shoulders. Her toes curled and dug into the mattress. He cupped her bottom and lifted. He stimulated her clit before pressing his tongue inside her, alternating between the two pleasure points until desire was a foggy haze. She could no longer remember where she was or how they came to be together again. All she knew was he was here—with her, beside her, inside her—and it was all that mattered.

Incoherent pleas escaped her lips until something snapped. Ecstasy crested a second time. Her body jerked violently, unraveling the sheets as her legs straightened and her back arched. Her lids lifted, but for countless breaths she saw nothing but white.

When her eyes finally focused, she saw Jason’s face. His neck muscles were corded, his jaw was clenched, and his eyes were dark and hooded. His breath came in hard, uneven pants. She felt something hot and hard probing her swollen folds. Before her mind registered what it was, her hips lifted in silent invitation.

He pinned her wrists against the coverlet. His mouth closed over hers. He pushed inside her. He distracted her with one hungry kiss after another as the heated lance breached and moved slowly but relentlessly deeper. While her mind registered the discomfort, her legs spread to accommodate his girth. Coarse hair grazed her skin as his body slid over hers. She could feel the muscles on his chest and abdomen ripple over her as he moved. Her hands strained against his hold, but he held her in place.

He relinquished her lips and lifted his head. Their gazes met and locked. In response to his silent query, she made a barely perceptible nod.

He impaled her. Pinioned against the mattress, she couldn’t move. He pulled out before pushing into her again. Her thighs parted even more, and the next time he entered her the ridge of his member brushed over her clit. She cried out. After coming twice, any contact there sent pleasure and pain coursing through her body.

He repeated the motion, delving deeper each time. He filled her, stretched her, and claimed her. She was a captive to his pleasure, able only to accept every hard thrust. All she could do was shift her hips to meet each impact. The torture was exquisite.

It was a matter of time before the stimulation led to a slow burn at the apex of her opening. As he continued to pound into her, the steady warmth turned into pulsing heat. She whimpered when it became too much.

“Thank God,” he groaned as she approached the brink. His movements became frenzied. He buried his face against the side of her neck, muffling his harsh, guttural cries. She gave herself to the scents and sensations, the tangling of limbs and the feel of tensing muscle. Her thighs closed against his torso as his hips ground into her. The pressure sent her over the edge. Her mind went blank just before his body collapsed over hers.

“Have we met before?” Nulli asked the gray-haired pilot as she walked up the dimly lit winding staircase toward the hotel rooftop helipad.

Tom Allen smiled. Jason had introduced them five minutes ago, and she had disliked the man on sight. “I’m sure I’d remember a pretty face like yours.” The more he spoke, the less she wanted to talk to him.

His teeth were yellow. She guessed his lack of dental hygiene was the result of too much smoking since the smell of cigarettes formed an aura around him. His overtanned face had the texture of worn leather. Feathery wrinkles surrounded his eyes and the sides of his mouth. His ill-fitting blazer looked like it hid a potbelly. He lacked the casual assurance Jason and Dan wore like a second skin. Given a choice, she wouldn’t want this man to have anything to do with her protection.

“Jason said you own a private security company. What’s it called?”

She turned to face the man and saw his eyes narrow. “World Protective Services. I’m sure a sweetheart like you has never heard of it.”

There were several problems with his brush-off. For one, she didn’t like it when random men called her a sweetheart. It was a sign of condescension more often than not. She was more concerned because the name of his company sounded eerily familiar. But this helicopter was the safest means to get her from this hotel to the airport. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

The elevator had gone up to the seventeenth floor. She now knew the reason for what seemed like an odd choice. If someone was going to construct a building that high, they might as well up the count to an even twenty. In the case of this hotel, the top three floors were accessible only through a hidden stairwell.

Jason and Dan trailed a few steps behind her. Tom Allen opened the door to the rooftop. She peered through. It wasn’t as dark as she thought it would be. There was plenty of light pollution despite the electricity and natural gas shortages this country faced. They were about a dozen yards from the helicopter.

This ride would mark the end of her ordeal if everything went according to plan. She could board Zahra’s private jet and be on her way to Dubai once she reached the airport. She had plans to return to Pakistan one day. Right now, she couldn’t be more eager to leave.

Something didn’t feel right. Wiping her damp palms against her jeans, she tried to dismiss her racing heart as a bad case of nerves. Perhaps because this escape seemed so anticlimactic, her subconscious was convinced the danger wasn’t over. She hadn’t exactly been adept at detecting life-threatening situations thus far. It reasoned she would also be bad at determining when she was safe.

But she couldn’t shake her sense of unease. She tried to pinpoint the moment she started getting goose bumps and came to a disturbing realization. Tom Allen gave her the creeps.

The sound of rapid footsteps echoed in the stairwell. She turned to see Dan and Jason unholster their weapons. Multiple shadows decorated the dingy walls.

Jason spared the pilot a single glance. “Strap her in and make sure we’re ready to fly.”

Tom Allen grabbed her arm and pulled her through the doorway. They raced across the rooftop as loud cracks filled the night. When they reached their destination, she turned to check on Jason. He and Dan were a few yards behind her. They reloaded before emptying their clips at the men piling through the natural choke point. Bodies dropped like flies. Her heart pounded. It was difficult to breathe. Though she intellectually knew Jason was more than capable of gunning their attackers down, visions of him taking a bullet made her falter. She bit her lip and slammed a virtual door on the paralyzing fear. This wasn’t the time to panic.

“Get in.” The pilot lifted his arm so she could brace herself and climb up. She hesitated. Instinct commanded she stay behind. Pieces of a puzzle came together, and the picture wasn’t pretty.

She had never been adept at muting her facial expressions. With a scowl, the pilot’s fingers formed a vise over her upper arm. Her face was level with his chest. She saw him reach inside his jacket. His free hand closed around a dull black grip. He looked over her head—his attention on Jason and Dan.

He pulled out the pistol and straightened his arm. His forefinger rested on the trigger. She didn’t think. Grabbing his wrist with her free hand, she yanked it down as hard as she could. She simultaneously rammed her body into his chest and remembered to scream.

A popping sound preceded a sudden tightness in her stomach. Her nose caught the scent of lit matches. It felt like there was a stitch in her side—the kind she got after long bursts of running. It was odd since she hadn’t engaged in strenuous physical activity. A flurry of loud cracks echoed behind her.

Feeling suddenly weak, her grip loosened. The pilot yanked his arm free and lifted his weapon once more. She moved to intercept him, but another burst of sound startled her into stillness. Tom Allen staggered backward. His hand opened and the pistol thudded on concrete. A dark stain spread from the center of his chest.

Dan moved into her line of vision and bent down to retrieve the fallen weapon. She frowned. Where was Jason?

An arm circled her waist. She breathed the familiar scent of hotel shampoo and minty shaving cream. A chest—warm and solid—was a wall against her back. Her muscles relaxed, and she leaned into his strength. She felt a dull ache on her lower back. Her knees buckled. The world tilted. A moment later, her butt was on the ground.

“He was going to shoot you,” she murmured as Jason supported the back of her neck and lowered her until she lay flat. Their gazes met. For the first time in memory, she saw terror reflected on his handsome face. She needed to reassure him. “Don’t worry. I think Dan shot him. You’re safe.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Jason place a pistol on the floor. It occurred to her his friend might not have been the one who fired.

He took both her hands in his and placed them on the left side of her stomach. The contact hurt, and she resisted. His voice was low, commanding, and laced with panic. “Nulli, I need you to press down.”