One Touch More (14 page)

“What?”

He smiled, showcasing the deep dimples in his cheeks that turned her bones to mush. “You're beautiful.”

Heat rose to Tabitha's cheeks, though she doubted he'd notice with the flush of passion that was still no doubt on her skin. No man had ever called her beautiful before. And for the second time tonight, the compliment constricted her heart almost to the point of pain. Most of her life had been so hard and ugly, and at times it had made her feel ugly, too. Unworthy of praise. Her eyes searched his for any duplicity, but they were clear and honest. For the first time in her life, she truly felt beautiful. As though she was more than the low-class daughter of drug addicts. “Thank you,” she said. It might have sounded silly, but it meant so much to her, she couldn't help herself.

“I want you. I need to be inside of you. I—” Deep grooves marred his brow as though he struggled with what he wanted to say. “I want you more than I've wanted anything. Ever.”

“What's wrong with that?” He sounded so conflicted. Why?

“Because it scares the hell out of me.”

Her stomach twirled into myriad tiny knots at his words. He'd been so honest with her and deserved an equally honest response. “I want you, too. And yeah, it's scary. But it's also
amazing
.”

Damien positioned himself fully on top of her. Tabitha let her legs fall open, ready to accept him, but he held himself back, careful that only his torso made contact with her body. His arms trembled with the effort he exerted to keep himself suspended above her. “I'm a miserable son of a bitch, Tabitha. But I'm not a complete bastard. No matter how badly I need your body, it can't go any further than we already have tonight.”

What? Why?
Panic shot through her bloodstream. The night had barely begun as far as she was concerned. “What if I'm not okay with that?”

He brushed her hair from her face, lost for a moment as he rubbed the strands between his thumb and forefinger. He kept his gaze averted as he said, “You just want me to fuck you without any consideration of the fact that we have no protection? You don't really know me, Tabitha, yet you think I'm that trustworthy?”

Shit
. She hadn't considered the fact that they had no condoms, or contraception of any kind. It had sort of become a non-issue in the heat of the moment. Did she find him trustworthy? She'd heard her share of excuses over the course of her adolescence, and even a few from Joey when they'd dated.
I'm sterile. If you loved me you would . . . I was just tested, babe. I'm totally clean
. And her all-time favorite,
I'm a virgin. You're my first
. Little did Eric Jones know that his last girlfriend flapped her lips about their sexual exploits to anyone who'd listen. She'd heard more than her fair share of excuses of why it was okay to have unprotected sex, but never had a man given her an argument for why they shouldn't.

It was true that she didn't know Damien well. But she did trust him.

“I'll take my chances. I want you. Please, just . . .” Her rational brain had taken a vacation the second he put his hands and mouth on her. She knew this wasn't a good idea, but somehow she didn't care. “Trust
me
. I'm not willing to let tonight end. Not yet.”

He kissed her once. Softly. Just the slightest contact of his lips on hers.

“Baby, you're driving me crazy.” He rolled his hips and the silky flesh of his erection brushed her thigh. “I can't get enough of you.” Another thrust of his hips and he groaned, his teeth welded together as a look of near pain marred his strong features. “Sex is off the table. Tonight, at least. But you can do whatever else you want to me. Touch me, taste me. Fuck, I want your mouth on me. You're in control now, this is your show. I trust you, too.”

Tabitha didn't know it was possible to experience this sort of intimacy without actual intercourse. At twenty-three, she wasn't exactly a seasoned pro, but in her past relationships, sex had always been the endgame. A frenzied mess of excitement and urgency that came and went like a passing storm. Tonight was more akin to an ocean tide. Ebbing and flowing, building to high breakers that lulled into gentle waves. Give and take. Urgent and easy. She'd never felt more comfortable in her own skin and yet so unaware of her own body. Damien had showed her all of this.

And now, he was giving her the reins. No sex, but other than that, he was hers. How could tonight get any more perfect? “Roll over,” she said. “I want you on your back.”

Chapter Fourteen

Damien propped himself up higher on his elbow and used his free hand to release the T-shirt that was now hanging limply from Tabitha's wrists. She'd trusted him completely, resisting the urge to use her hands despite the fact that they'd basically been free the entire time.

This was uncharted territory for him.

The majority of his past sexual relationships had been short-lived and sometimes anonymous encounters that scratched an itch for both parties and nothing more. Damien was usually very careful about choosing bedmates who weren't looking for more than a couple hours' worth of fun. His life was always in turmoil, traveling from one undercover assignment to the next. He didn't have the sort of stability in his life to support an honest-to-God relationship with a woman. And now that he'd finally met someone who made him want to stick around, he wasn't sure if a relationship with Tabitha would survive the laundry list of obstacles they'd have to overcome.

When her hands made contact with his bare skin, however, any obstacle seemed surmountable.

Warm and soft as satin, her fingers glided over him. She studied him with an intensity that made his heart race as she traced the outlines of the tattoos marking his pecs, ink that he'd recently become ashamed of because he'd begun to associate them with a lifestyle that he didn't subscribe to, yet had to pretend to live.

“I love this one,” she said as she lovingly traced the artwork that crawled from his left pec up his shoulder. “The artwork is so intricate. What's the symbolism?”

Truth be told, he liked that one too. To the casual eye, the whorls and angles that made up the spines and scales of the dragon's head looked innocent enough. But to the discerning eye—the gangbangers and dealers who'd notice—the tattoo artist had hidden symbols that denoted his affiliation with the Russian mob. “The artwork is meant to represent Norse folk art. Dragons are considered evil in some of their mythology, but also creatures of immeasurable power.”

“And this? Is it Norse too?”

She traced his opposite pec. This image depicted a snarling bear, and again, the artist had carefully hidden symbols meant to buy Damien street cred: stars that indicated stints in federal prison. Tabitha's fingertips traced each of Damien's knuckles and moved over the dots on the webbing between his thumb and forefinger, a false representation of the number of men he'd killed. These were the images—not the tattoos themselves—that Damien despised. Lies constructed to maintain his cover, permanently etched on his skin.

“The bear is associated with the berserker. Warriors possessed with supernatural strength and fierceness in battle that made them more animals than men.”

Her mouth spread in an enigmatic smile. “They're beautiful. I love them.”

On and on she went, her palms roving the landscape of his body as though mapping every inch. She asked questions and he answered, more interested in observing her expressions than his own responses. He could watch her for hours.

“When I first noticed these, I thought they were gang symbols,” she said with a laugh as she traced the ink tattooed between his knuckles. “But they're definitely not.”

“Runes,” he said.

“More Norse stuff?”

“Yeah,” he said, trying to hide his embarrassment. He must seem like one of those idiots who'd succumbed to the tribal tattoo craze, inking his entire body in a theme. He dropped the façade of Damien's cover. She'd put her trust in him tonight. He could return the favor by sharing a little bit of Parker with her. “My mom's family are Norwegian. Most of them still live in Norway. I used to hear all of the myths and stories when I was little.”

Tabitha brought his hand to her mouth and kissed each and every knuckle. Damien's stomach twisted into a knot so tight, he doubted it would ever unfurl. She kissed the inside of one wrist, and then the other, before venturing up his arm, across his shoulder, and down over the tattoos she'd traced just moments before. Her tongue flicked out at one nipple and he inhaled a sharp breath.

His stomach went rigid as she kissed a path down his abs, and he swallowed a groan as she went lower still, dragging the flat of her tongue across the juncture where his hip met his thigh. Hard as stone, his cock throbbed between his legs, and when she nipped at the flesh on his inner thigh, the sting of her teeth caused the bastard to twitch as though in anticipation of similar attention.

Tabitha took her time, acquainting herself with his body in the way he'd done with hers. Her will had to be stronger than his, because only seconds of her attention drove him crazy with desire. He wanted her so badly, every inch of him ached. She rose above him, settled her body between his thighs and bent, hovering over the one place he was dying to have her mouth.

“Tell me what you want,” she said in a husky tone that tingled down his spine and settled in his balls. “And I'll do it. Anything.”

Even after handing her total control, she gave it back to him. She trusted him. Wanted this give-and-take between them. He'd never known a woman like Tabitha. As though she sensed his need for control in the way he sensed her need to be controlled, they fit together like puzzle pieces. Perfect.

“I want you to suck the head of my cock.”

Her gaze heated at his words and she dipped her full lips to his erection. A low moan vibrated in her throat as she wrapped her mouth around him and the sound tingled down his shaft. She curled her tongue around the engorged head, soft and slippery, before she sucked gently.

“Harder.”

He didn't want anything tentative or light from her, and she increased the suction and pressure. Damien's hips rolled involuntarily, it felt so damned good. “Yeah, like that. Don't stop.”

When the sensation was too intense for him to take another second, he thrust, guiding his cock slightly farther into her mouth. He let out a moan that was as much in relief as it was pleasure. She pulled back to the tip, a clear sign that if he wanted her to take him deeper, he'd have to tell her so.

He reached down and threaded his fingers through the silken strands of her hair. “Deeper, baby. I need it deeper.”

Tabitha's eyelids fluttered as she took him fully into her mouth, working her lips and tongue over his shaft in a steady rhythm that coaxed Damien's breath to come in deep, desperate pants. He pressed his head back into the pillow, one hand still wound in her hair, the other clenched in a fist at his side. The wet warmth of her mouth was heaven, but it only made him want to fuck her that much more. He'd sworn he wouldn't disrespect her. Wouldn't allow himself to be so irresponsible. But, goddamn, he wanted that joining of their bodies, he wanted to make that claim on her.

Like a fire tearing through dry grass, Damien's passion raged. He held nothing back, his voice an impassioned growl when he backed her off to where she'd started at the head of his cock. “Use your teeth.” He was so far gone with want, the words barely made sense to him anymore. Her teeth scraped against the sensitive, engorged skin and he hissed in a breath.

“
Ungh
, God yeah,” he said from between clenched teeth. “Again, harder.”

Fuck, that felt
good
. Better than good. She nipped at him, alternating the intense sting with the silken heat of her tongue. Another sharp nip, a swirl of her tongue, followed up with the deep suction that hollowed her cheeks. He marveled at her soft beauty and fierce will.

On his first undercover assignment, Damien had had to sit by and watch a twentysomething kid shoot up with heroin for the first time. He'd hated how overcome the kid became, the look of utter bliss that stole over his features. Lost to the drug, he was instantly and irrevocably in its grip. He now knew what it felt like to lose himself in that way. Because he was hopelessly lost—addicted—to Tabitha Martin.

Tension built up in his body like water backed up by a dam. His thighs shook and muscles ached with the need for release. His balls drew up tighter with every deep pull of Tabitha's mouth and sweat beaded his skin. “Tabitha. Tabitha.” Even the cadence of her name on his lips was euphoric. A shudder passed the length of his body. “Take it all.”

She moaned around him as she worked her mouth over him in earnest, taking him as far into her mouth as she could before pulling back to the glossy head and back down. The deep suction constricted his shaft, squeezing it tightly in the heat of her mouth. Damien gripped the sheet in his fists, giving shallow rolls of his hips, denying his body's impulse to thrust hard and fast. “Don't stop.” His breath sawed in and out of his chest, every muscle in his body going rigid. “You're going to make me come.”

Chapter Fifteen

There was power in pleasure, and even though Tabitha had wanted him to dominate her, she'd still controlled the situation in her own way. She'd felt powerless for so long, had tried to control her out-of-control life until it felt like a wasted effort. Tonight, Damien gave her something back that she'd lost and she doubted he'd ever realize what that meant to her.

He showed so much restraint, his shallow thrusts not at all what she wanted. She needed more from him, she wanted him mindless. Frenzied. Taking her mouth until he shattered in the way that he'd shattered her. She wanted him to come with her lips wrapped around him. Wanted to taste him.

She worked her mouth over him, loving the satin glide of his erection, hard and smooth as polished steel against her tongue. Sucking, licking, using her teeth in the way that drove him crazy. His thighs held her tight as every muscle in his body went rigid. She took him as deeply as she could, sucked hard, and he shouted as the orgasm rocked him. Tabitha reveled in his salty sweet taste as jet after jet coated her tongue. With each jerk of his hips, his body relaxed and soon there was nothing but stillness and the sound of his labored breath.

They had both had their pleasure, explored one another's bodies. Tasted and indulged. But Tabitha wasn't even close to feeling sated, and she knew that Damien wasn't either.

His hands went to her arms and he urged her up, pulling her body along his as he guided her head to the crook of his shoulder. Fingers played idly with her hair, as though the act calmed him somehow. In the low light of the single lamp they'd left on, Tabitha looked up and studied the angle of his jaw, straight nose, the shadow of his cheekbones, committing each to memory. Quiet minutes passed and she drank him in.

“Why do you want to be a nurse?”

The question lacked the gruffness she'd grown accustomed to. Soft, curious, and a little sleepy. Tabitha smiled as she tucked her body closer to his. “People are at their weakest when they've experienced a trauma. Emotionally. Physically. Mentally. I want to do whatever I can to fix that. To help them.”

“What about the excitement? The adrenaline that comes with an emergency situation?”

She found his curiosity endearing, and so honest. “Well, yeah. There's that, too. I'd be lying if I said I didn't like it. I chose trauma partially for that reason. But at the end of the day, I want to know that I made someone's life better. Or at least, know that I tried to.”

Damien hugged her tight to him and kissed her forehead. “Is that why you're here now? Because you think that you can fix me?”

The question bit into her heart with sharp barbs. “Of course not.” There was a duality to Damien that she didn't understand. She'd known dealers and petty criminals most of her life. Assholes who had about as much respect for a woman as they did the dirt on their boots. Damien wasn't one of those men. She couldn't reconcile the man he claimed to be with the man she knew he was. Did he fight the same battle of reconciliation? “I don't think you need fixing.”

“You don't want to know why I'm living out of hotels, dealing on the weekends? You're not even a little curious as to what brought me here or how long I'm planning to stay?”

He could be a professional interrogator. Like those dudes who work for the CIA, getting you to spill your secrets before you even realized you'd done it. “If you want me to admit that I'm curious, I am. But your reasons are your own, and what I think or feel about it isn't going to change your mind about working for Joey.”

He reached down to her chin and gently tilted her head up. His expression was gentle as his gaze delved straight into her soul. Tabitha's breath hitched as a silent moment passed while his fingers traced her jaw, over her cheekbone, the shell of her ear and her temple. “Can I change
your
mind?” The warm timbre of his voice cut through the silence. “Could I convince you not to work for him?”

“I don't work for him.” Tabitha averted her gaze, ashamed.

“Then don't help him. Don't do a damned thing for him.”

Tears stung at Tabitha's eyes, the need to trust Damien and confide in him overwhelming her. She'd been bearing the weight of this burden for so long there were days that she didn't think she could take another step. “I don't have a choice.” Tabitha forced the words past the lump in her throat. “I have to help him.”

“Look at me.”

God, she didn't want to. Too afraid of what she'd see in the depth of his golden eyes. His arms came around her and he held her tight, the warmth of his body a soothing balm to Tabitha's now frayed nerves.

“I can protect you.” Damien's words brooked no argument or doubt. “Whatever the reason you're mixed up in this, I'll help you out of it.”

That was the problem, though, wasn't it? Tabitha didn't need protection. She'd spent most of her life getting Seth out of one scrape or another. It wouldn't be fair to transfer all of that onto Damien. “And who's going to protect you when Joey finds out you threw a monkey wrench into his operation?”

“You let me worry about that.” So confident. It probably never occurred to Damien that he could ever lose.

Joey was scrawny, weak in comparison to Damien's sheer size and strength, but looks could be deceiving. What he lacked in physical power, he made up for in intelligence. “I practically raised my brother, even though we're only a couple of years apart.” She couldn't bring herself to tell him outright that she'd made a deal with Joey to save Seth from prison time, but maybe she could steer the conversation in a direction that would keep him from pressing her on the issue.

“My dad was an alcoholic and a drug addict. My mom popped pills like they were going out of style. They were absentee parents for most of our lives. Partying, hustling, working the system, doing whatever they could for a couple of bucks and then spending it on booze or drugs rather than feeding their kids. Seth and I fell through the cracks. Someone needed to be an adult, and so I stepped up. Every decision I make affects him because I've chosen to take care of him. Even my worst choices aren't made recklessly. Can you understand?”

Damien rolled them so that Tabitha was on her back; he was propped up on his side next to her. He stared down into her face, deep creases digging into his brow just above the bridge of his nose. Light as a gentle breeze, he stroked her bare skin, the rough pads of his fingers tracing a path down her throat, over her shoulder and down her arm. A shudder rippled over her skin as he skimmed her hip, worked his way up her ribs and around the outer swell of her breast.

“I understand that you're loyal.” His fingers curled around the back of her neck, his grip possessive as his thumb brushed her jaw. “Fearless.” His head dipped to her collarbone, where he kissed her. “Obviously stubborn.” Tabitha's back came off the bed as his hand abandoned her throat and the flat of his palm passed down between her breasts, past her belly button. His fingers slid lower and she opened her legs to him, gasping as he teased her sex with featherlight strokes. “And that you love fiercely.” One finger, and then another breached her opening and she moaned at the deep, delicious invasion. “But you're not alone. I need you to know that.”

Her breath came in sharp pants as he pleasured her, as though he could buy her trust and loyalty with the ministrations of his skillful digits. For the record, it was sort of working. When he touched her this way, made her feel so good that it rivaled her best dreams, she wanted to tell him anything—everything—as long as he never stopped touching her.

“But I
don't
know that.” Emotion choked the air from her lungs, the pain she felt a harsh contrast to the pleasure he gave her. “I don't know anything about you.”

“Close your eyes.” Tabitha's brow furrowed at his request. Damien didn't relent as his thumb circled her clit, slowly, gently, drawing a whimpering sigh from her chest. “Close them.”

Under his spell and unable to deny him, she did as he asked. In the dark recesses of her mind, there was only this moment. The sensation of his fingers sliding across her slick flesh, the low rumble of his voice, and his breath hot in her ear.

Damien had become her entire universe.

 

 

He could lie here all night, and just watch her. With his mouth close to her ear, he held her close to him, one arm cradling her body, while the other slid through the soft, pink flesh of her gorgeous pussy. He'd never broken his cover before. Ever. He'd witnessed deplorable things, engaged in acts that tore at his conscience. Hell, he'd all but pistol-whipped those idiots who'd tried to hijack Joey's shipment the other night, an offense that would land any cop on administrative leave for a good, long while. And yet, Damien was given carte blanche. That sort of power and hubris would go to anyone's head.

And Damien wasn't above enjoying it.

No, he'd never broken character, never let that façade slip. But he wanted to break through the wall. Throw all of his hard work away. Now. For her.

“I enlisted right out of high school. Marines. Two tours in Afghanistan and two years in special forces.” He continued to pet her, slowly. He didn't want her to climax, only to feel enough physical pleasure to distract her mind from thinking too much about what he was saying to her. She let out a sigh that met his ears in a caress, and he continued, low. “I don't have any brothers. No sisters to look after. I never knew my dad, and my mom died when I was twenty-one. Stomach cancer. I didn't even get to say good-bye to her. She died while I was in that godforsaken desert, and that's something I'll never be able to forgive myself for—not being there when she needed me.”

Tabitha's eyes fluttered as though she fought to keep them closed. “Don't look at me. Keep your eyes shut.”

He let a space of silence settle between them as he thrust his finger inside her tight channel, rocking his palm against her sex and coaxing tight, tiny whimpers from her throat. “I don't have a real home, I never stay anywhere for very long. I do what I have to do to get by and I won't apologize or make excuses for it.” He was being as honest as he dared, giving her as much of a complete picture of who he was as he possibly could. She arched into his touch, her full lips parted, and he couldn't help but lean down to kiss her.

“Damien . . .”

His name left her lips on an exhale and he kissed her once again, reveling in the sweetness of her mouth. “I don't know if I'm a good man, but I do know that I'm not the sum of my mistakes and bad decisions.” He caressed the outer edge of her labia, circled her clit with the pad of his finger before plunging back into her tight heat. “Let me be a better man for you. Let me in, Tabitha.”

She cried out as her inner walls clenched around his fingers, gripping and releasing with each powerful wave of her orgasm. Her nails bit into his bicep as she rode it out, and Damien stared down at her, enraptured by the expression of bliss that crested over her features.

He put his mouth against her ear and murmured, “You're so beautiful.” He couldn't say it enough to convey how truly lovely he found her. He'd done what he could to build some sort of trust between them, but now his words were nothing more than the flowery sentiments that guys whispered when they were hopelessly in love or some shit. “So soft and wet. I don't want you anywhere but in my bed. All day. Every day. Believe me when I say that I'll fucking
kill
any man who tries to hurt you or anyone you care about. I'm going to protect you whether you want me to or not.”

He pulled away to gauge her reaction, and Tabitha's lids fluttered open to reveal the glistening blue of her eyes. A single tear trickled down her temple and Damien swiped it away with his thumb. Her hand found the back of his neck and she pulled him down for a kiss. Damien pulled her tight against him, crushing her soft, supple breasts into his chest as he slanted his mouth across hers. She returned his ardor with a fierceness that stalled his heart in his goddamned chest, stole his breath, and set him adrift in the haze of pleasure and need that he'd likened to the rush of heroin in his veins.

She kissed him until her body became limp in his arms. A precious, pliable thing that he cradled with care. Her breath left her and entered him on a sigh, as though his own lungs refused to function if she wasn't there to give him air.

“I don't want to go home tonight.” Her voice was small, unsure, and it tore his composure to shreds.

“You don't have to,” he said against her lips. “Stay. I told you, I don't want you anywhere but in my bed.”

Tabitha nestled against him, and for the first time since he'd met her, Damien considered how fragile she truly was. And before this was all over, he vowed that Joey Cavello and anyone else who'd hurt her was going to pay for whatever it was they'd done to make her this way.

 

 

As light filtered in through a gap in the heavy blackout drapes, Damien woke to find his body cold and his arms empty. He shot up out of bed like the damned thing was on fire and checked the bathroom, and then the sitting area off the bedroom.

Tabitha was gone.

Panic gathered in Damien's chest, building in force like a tornado. He hadn't felt this sort of blind, senseless anxiety in a long damned time. Not since he'd trudged through the rocky desert mountains, his boots so heavy he didn't think he could walk another step. Shallow breaths were all he could manage as he reached for the door handle, only barely aware that he was naked and about to chase down the hall in pursuit of something that had already slipped through his grasp.