Shadow of Sin (The Martin Family) (3 page)

He dropped the supplies next to the sink and turned to face her, his arms crossed over his well-muscled chest. “The sun’s almost up.”

“Shot at,” she said dryly and resumed her position on the edge of the tub. Even in her slightly tipsy state she could tell he was fighting the urge to yell. His hands—big, strong hands—flexed into fists. The muscles in his legs protested against tight denim as he approached her, and then turned to pace.

Approach. Pace. Approach. Pace.

She hoped he made a decision soon, because he was making her dizzy.

Finally, he turned and leaned his ass against the counter. “What were you thinking tonight?”

His tone made her bristle. She wasn’t a sixteen-year-old who’d broken curfew. “Can you be more specific? I thought a lot of shit tonight. For instance, I thought those boys back at the bar were about the worst card players I’ve ever seen. I had a few choice thoughts when I spotted you walking into the bar. More recently, I thought, man, I hope we don’t get killed before I have time to chew Alec’s ass for sending you after me. I’m currently having a few thoughts about what I’d like to do with your arrogant tone. Which thought was it you were looking for, exactly?”

His insolent gaze met hers. “How about when you thought, ‘I think it’s a great idea to put on a sexy shirt that shows more skin than it covers, and then go to an obscure biker bar with a man I don’t even know’? When did you have
that
thought, Samantha?”

“You think my shirt is sexy?” Not the point, but her body responded anyway. Her breasts grew heavy; her nipples pressed through the thin material of her blouse. She tried to be covert, folding her arms across her body and rubbing her arms as if she were cold.

But Caleb didn’t miss a thing. His eyelids flared wide before narrowing again. He stalked closer.

“Give me that,” he snapped.

Caleb snatched her glass from the edge of the tub and drained it. “Get over there and bend over the counter.”

“Excuse me?”

He leaned in, putting them nose-to-nose. “Don’t give me any more shit, Samantha.” He jabbed a finger toward the sink. “Bend over that counter so I can see to your injuries, then you can go to bed. I’ve asked Alec to stop by your apartment and pick up some things for you, so you need to call your building people to let him in.”

“Alec has a key, but that doesn’t mean he’s allowed to use it. Call him back and tell him to forget it. I don’t need him going through my panty drawers.” She groaned at the thought of Alec going through her stuff. If he found where she kept her sex toys, she’d never live it down. “But, because you’re being so nice, I’ll let you check me out and I’ll get a few hours sleep before I go home. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

Caleb cocked a brow. “I’m not making any deals with you.” He pointed again. “Counter, now.”

Samantha drew in a deep breath. The sooner she complied, the sooner she could get away from him.

Positioned in front of the mirror, Samantha held his gaze as she gripped the edge of the sink and leaned forward. Caleb moved in behind her. The vision in the mirror turned her knees to jelly. She imagined him taking her just like this. His tall, muscular frame overpowering her. His handsome face twisted in passion as he held the back of her neck and pounded his flesh into hers.

Samantha shifted as her pussy clenched with need. Would he be as intense in bed as he was out of it? Or would he take it slow and easy, teasing her with light caresses and soft words?

Oh, no. There was nothing soft about the man in the mirror. Biting back a moan, she dropped her head, unable to watch as he leaned over her, and braced herself for his touch.

She felt him long before he actually touched her. The heat of his hand burned as it hovered above her skin, as if he, too, was steeling himself. She heard his intake of breath a moment before his fingers danced over her back.

“I did the best I could to wash the dirt off.” Feather light, his gentle touch rocked her. Moisture dampened her panties as her body readied itself for more than first aid.

“Easy. Just relax,” Caleb soothed. “You’ve got a few abrasions, probably from the underside of the truck. Nothing too severe.” He moistened a towel and began to blot it against her back. He worked quickly and efficiently, re-cleaning her scrapes and rubbing antiseptic ointment over them. “Turn around.”

“I don’t —”

“Turn around.”

She huffed, but obeyed. The minute she faced him, he brushed aside the fabric of her shirt, holding it between his fingers as he wrapped his hand around her bared waist.

Caleb slipped to his knees before her. Samantha tipped her head toward the ceiling and prayed he’d be quick. His breath was warm and enticing against her stomach as his fingers prodded at her side.

“I don’t see any glass. It looks like a clean cut, but I don’t want to take any chances since we aren’t sure what cut you. You won’t need stitches.”

“But, the blood.”

He gave her a droll stare. “It wasn’t that much. Probably just seemed like it at the time.”

“Okay,” was all she could manage. She didn’t want to talk about blood and whether she’d need stitches. Her fingers itched to dive into his hair and pull him close. She was wet, her body primed for sex—for release—and the sight of Caleb on his knees threw her into sensory overload.

If he so much as looked at her again, she’d come for sure. Thank God he was completely focused on his task, gently cleaning the cut, and oblivious to her rampaging hormones.

“This might hurt a little.” His brow creased as if the thought upset him.

He tipped a bottle of peroxide over her side, allowing the liquid to drizzle over her wound.

She hissed as the liquid made contact, the muscles in her stomach flexing in response to the blossoming pain.

She clenched her teeth as Caleb poured and dabbed, poured and dabbed. By the time he’d placed the bandage, Samantha was ready for another drink.

Caleb looked as if he could use one himself. His cheeks were flushed and perspiration clung to his forehead.

He cleared his throat and straightened to his full height. “All done.”

A strange flutter went through her chest and she was suddenly unsure of how to handle his newfound kindness. He’d been bossy, sure, but his touch had been gentle, caring. As if she were important.

And thoughts like that would only get her into trouble. Caleb saw her as a duty. Nothing more.

“Thank you. I’m sorry Alec called you, but I’m grateful you were there.”

“You shouldn’t have been there at all.”

Annnnnd he’s back. She rolled her eyes and stepped around him, needing to put some distance between them. “You sound like a broken record. I’m not a saint, Caleb. I’ll not live like one.”

“Someone took a shot at you tonight!” His voice reverberated through the room. “If you don’t give a shit about your life, then at least think about Amanda and what it would do to her if anything happened to you. You’re like a sister to her. She loves you.”

His anger gave her the reality check she needed. How dare he use Amanda against her.

“So, you’re saying I should give up my life? Sit at home every night and twiddle my thumbs? Masturbate until I’m blind? Is that what you’re saying?”

“I’m saying you need to be more careful about who you fuck around with.”

“Are you volunteering?” Samantha threw the question he’d posed to her all those months ago—the night she’d bought the vibrator—back in his face.

Without warning, he grabbed her arms and jerked her against him.

“Make no mistake about it. If I were to take you, it wouldn’t be a quick fuck.” He crowded her back against the door and shoved his knee between her legs. His hands clenched her arms, holding her still.

She struggled against him, her chest heaving, as he leaned his weight against her, making it clear who held the reins. “I like to take my time, Samantha. There are so many fascinating places to explore on a woman’s body. So many tempting noises to tease from a mouth gone swollen from my kisses.”

He put his mouth close to her ear. “If I take you, you’ll be mine to do with as I please. You’ll be wet.” He ground his hips against her stomach. “And you’ll beg.”

Sweet mercy. Samantha groaned at the feel of him against her. The rigid length of his erection left no doubt he was ready to play.

“I don’t beg,” she breathed. But oh, she wanted to.

He loosened his grip. “No matter. You were out with another man tonight, and I don’t play sloppy seconds.”

“Bastard.” She snorted and shoved him off. “I’d have to have firsts … first. Thanks to you, I haven’t had a man —”

She clamped her mouth shut, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d cock-blocked her over the last year with his hovering. “And just because I like sex doesn’t make me a whore, or a bad person. Jesus, when a man likes sex, it’s as normal as breathing. But when a woman likes sex, well, that’s another story entirely.”

Although the fact that she wanted to have sex with him right now said a lot about how fucked up her head was.

“I’ve never called you a slut.”

“No, you don’t need to. Your snide remarks and comments about how I dress tell the story for you.”

He scowled. “You should go to bed.” He pointed at the T-shirt he’d brought in with him. “You can sleep in that.”

“Now you’re telling me what I can sleep in?”

He shoved his hands through his hair, a deep rumble emanating from his chest. “I don’t care what you sleep in, Samantha.” His voice was firm, harsh. “I thought it’d be more comfortable than what you’re wearing.”

It was nice that he’d thought about her comfort, but she wasn’t so easily swayed. “A few hours of sleep, then I’m going home.”

“We’ll see.”

“You can’t keep me here against my will.”

“I’m not fighting with you about this.”

“This is fighting? I thought we were talking.” With them, the two were interchangeable, so it was hard to tell.

He snorted. “Go to bed, Samantha.”

Gladly.

“Go to hell, Caleb.” She grabbed the whiskey bottle and slammed the door on her way out.

Chapter 3

Samantha pulled her shirt over her head and let it drop to the floor. Her boots and jeans were the next to go.

Her body felt alive, her skin prickling with sensitivity, anticipation. The memory of Caleb’s hands as he tended to her fired her blood in a way no other man had.

She slipped into Caleb’s T-shirt. Soft and gray, with USMC in faded color across the front, it fell almost to her knees. She brought the neckline to her nose and breathed in. It smelled of him, spicy and male. And did nothing to help her raging libido.

Sleep would be a long time coming if she didn’t do something to relieve the pressure that had started to build the moment Caleb grabbed her at the bar.

She was so sick of him bossing her around, as if he knew better than she did about her own life. Caleb didn’t know a goddamned thing about her, yet he’d judged her at every turn. It bothered her more than she’d care to admit. She didn’t help the situation when she pushed his buttons, but hell-fire and damnation, he pissed her off. Who did he think he was? Her father? Caleb could act like a jerk sometimes, but he was no match for Thomas Quinn. Samantha’s father had made controlling people an art form.

Growing up with that man had taught Samantha two things. First, she needed to get out at her earliest opportunity—which she had done—and second, no man would ever control her again.

Caleb didn’t have any right to stop her from doing whatever she wanted. Even if that meant hooking up to relieve a little stress. It was her life. Samantha loved sex, but she wasn’t stupid. She’d been tested regularly. She’d never had sex without a condom. And she hadn’t been laid in months. At least by anything not battery operated. That Caleb insinuated she was reckless chapped her ass.

That he’d unknowingly turned her on chapped her ass even more.

Samantha shimmied out of her panties and crawled across the bed. She kept Caleb’s shirt on, since he would be the star of her masturbation show tonight. She always conjured sexual inspiration when she got herself off. She’d had virtual sex with models and actors … even with the hottie at the coffee shop around the corner from her office. Okay, coffee shop stud was in the room at the time, but he’d not touched her so he counted. But of late, harsh emerald eyes haunted her every time she touched herself.

The comforter’s soft suede a seduction against her already sensitive skin, Samantha turned over onto her back and propped herself on the pillows. Her breath hitched as she eased her legs apart, the cool air of the room a sharp contrast to the fire in her sex.

She tugged at the shirt, exposing her belly and one breast. Her stomach fluttered as she teased her fingertips along the soft curve. Moving lower, she traced a circle around her navel, stopping a moment to toy with her belly ring. As her right hand traveled further down, tickling over her hip, her left hand cupped her breast. She avoided her nipple, caressing only to the edge of the peaked skin, not ready to allow herself further pleasure. Caleb said he liked to take his time, well, so did she. The longer she made it last, the more intense her orgasm would be. And she needed it to be as intense as possible if she was going to get any sleep.

Curling her back, she left her breast and moved both hands to her legs. Moisture leaked from her pussy as she spread her fingers and moved along the curves of her knees. In her minds eye, large, calloused hands took over, abrading the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs. Strong, thick fingers teased her slit, spread her swollen lips apart to expose her clitoris. Samantha’s hips jerked as a nail flicked over the tortured bud.

Overwhelmed with sensation, her groan echoed in the empty room. Unable to resist any longer, she snaked a hand back to her breast and pinched her nipple hard, sending sparks of pleasure directly to her core. Planting both feet on the bed, she pushed into the finger now entering her slick opening. The finger swirled, collecting her juices before slipping back and circling the tight ring of her anus. Her legs shook, vibrated with need, as the finger pushed in, breaching her ass.

Caleb.

She imagined his finger working inside her, stretching her, preparing her to take him. If he fucked like he fought, he’d be magnificent. Fierce and determined. He’d take total control. He’d command her submission and she’d give it … after he’d earned it, of course.

Damn, she wished she had her vibrator.

Using her other hand, she pushed two fingers deep into her pussy. Emerald eyes stared at her from behind her closed lids. Caleb’s blond waves were longer now that he wasn’t enlisted. Samantha itched to run her fingers through the mass of sunshine, but her hands were a little busy at the moment. Virtual Caleb’s mouth opened; his tongue peeked out and caressed his lower lip. His lids grew heavy as a smile toyed at the corners of his mouth, as if he could taste her. She wanted him to taste her. Everywhere.

The sound of slick flesh met her ears as she pumped faster, using the heel of her hand to increase the pressure where she needed it most. Her wrist cramped and her side ached, but she didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

Perspiration dampened her skin. Her toes curled into the comforter as pleasure overrode any coherent thought. Her ass clenched around the finger that teased there, dueling with the fingers in her pussy for the right to her orgasm.

“Caleb.” Unable to hold her knees up, Samantha let them fall to the side, spreading herself wider. Her body felt light, euphoric as the telltale signs of her orgasm surged through her veins. Her muscles pulled tight, contracting hard enough to bring her shoulders off the pillows as she screamed and her body erupted, shattering into a thousand pieces and fluttering about the room. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. All she could do was pray at some point she’d be able to breathe again. And walk. Walking was important, wasn’t it?

A husky chuckle in her head made her smile. Virtual Caleb was happy with her performance. Drawing air into her lungs, Samantha tried to ease her racing heartbeat. Her body was slow to respond. She should be happy, ecstatic even. As self-induced orgasms go, that one ranked way up there. Instead, she felt … alone.

Samantha rolled onto her side and pushed from the bed, fighting back tears. She was a fool. Pining for a man who didn’t want her. Didn’t even
like
her.

She put her ear against the adjoining door to the bathroom and was relieved there was no sound coming from the other side. Her mind may have been in turmoil, but her body was blissfully unaware of the conflict. Her limbs were heavy and weak as she cleaned up and prepared for bed. She’d be able to sleep, out of sheer exhaustion if nothing else.

For now, it would have to be enough.

* * *

God hates me.

That was Caleb’s only explan
ation for the particular brand of hell he was in.

He drained his second beer and contemplated switching to something a little stronger. Jesus, did the woman have to be so loud?

He let his head fall, the jolt of pain as his forehead hit the counter not enough to distract the raging hard-on demanding release from his jeans.

The moans coming from the bedroom left no question as to what she was doing. Images of her naked and spread out on his spare bed filled his mind. Was she on her back or on her hands and knees? Did her pussy sport the same fire-red hair that adorned her head? Did she go fast or slow?

Caleb bit down on his tongue. Hard. It was either that or strip off his jeans and come along with her. He was
not
going to jack off in the middle of his own kitchen.

Was. Not.

Jesus fuck, she was going to kill him. When they’d first met, she’d been too young, too pretty for her own good. His family had been grieving the loss of their parents and Caleb had just returned home, still recovering from his own wounds. Amanda wouldn’t speak to him; Alec and Brandon weren’t much better. Samantha—with her smart mouth and penchant for trouble—had been the key to his family’s recovery. Instead of being grateful to her for bringing them together, Caleb had resented her for doing something he’d been unable to do.

The truth was, she’d intrigued him, made him hard when he’d had no business thinking about her, and that had pissed him off too. He’d actually tried to convince himself he didn’t like her. It hadn’t worked, but he’d treated her as if it had.

Tonight had cured him of that particular ailment.

Seeing her blood on her hands had been an event of the life altering variety. He’d fought the urge to touch her from the moment they’d gotten into the truck. But, as she’d slapped him away, he’d seen the shadows around her eyes, the frown lines around her mouth. She hadn’t fooled him for a second. She’d been hurt and scared, and too proud to admit it.

He wanted to throttle her, hold her, protect her—all at the same time. He could deny it, but it wouldn’t change anything.

He wanted her.

The implications made his head spin. It’d be a colossal mistake to get involved with her. Samantha valued control as much as he did. Caleb had stopped resisting his dominant nature years ago. It was part of being a Marine. It was part of who he was.

He was old enough to know his sexual boundaries and he’d had enough partners to know what he liked and what he didn’t. He didn’t feel the need to use restraints in the bedroom. He preferred to use his hands or his voice to hold a woman where he wanted her. It was much more satisfying to know the woman followed his command, while having the capability not too. He’d enjoyed using various sex toys with his partners, but he drew the line at anything that caused pain. He’d seen enough pain; he didn’t have any desire for it in his sex life.

It wasn’t some manly, macho bullshit with him. His own pleasure came from the level of pleasure he gave his partner. And both were under his complete control.

Control.

Something Samantha would never give him.

Caleb slid from his barstool and dug around in the cabinet until he found the bottle he sought. He poured a healthy dose into a glass and brought it to his lips. He couldn’t resist inhaling the delicious scent before he took a drink, hoping it would settle his nerves … and his libido.

God, how long could one woman masturbate?

When he’d promised it wouldn’t be a quick fuck, he’d only been trying to get a rise out of her. Give her back a little of the crazy she’d given him. Yet, from the sounds of it, she was the one getting satisfaction while he sat here with the erection from hell and drank from his favorite two hundred dollar bottle of scotch.

Son of a bitch, that woman would be the death of him.

He understood Samantha more than she knew. She used sex to release stress, Caleb used sex as an escape. Maybe that made him an asshole, but he’d never lied to the women he’d had sex with. He made it clear up front that he wasn’t interested in a relationship … and they’d come to him willingly.

He didn’t judge Samantha for getting what she needed; it was her method of obtaining it that pissed him off. She trolled the bars as if she didn’t have any concern for her own personal safety.

Caleb wouldn’t fool himself that he had any sort of tender feelings for her. No, his feelings at present were much more primitive. He wanted to storm into the bedroom and finish what she’d started. He wanted to fuck the shit out of her, exhaust her until she didn’t have the strength to fight with him. Because if she thought she was going home, she had another thing coming. She wasn’t getting out of his sight, or the sight of someone he trusted, until this mess was over.

End of story.

Caleb drained his glass as the sounds from the bedroom grew more insistent.

Amanda would be pissed if he had sex with her best friend. Brandon and Alec wouldn’t let him hear the end of it, either. He didn’t care how bad he wanted to shove his dick past those gorgeous lips of hers and have her suck him until he lost his mind. He wouldn’t do it.

Because once wouldn’t be enough. Yet another realization he’d come to in the last hour.

“Caleb,”
Samantha cried out.

His head snapped around, his gaze directed at the door to her room. Sweet fuck, she didn’t just…

Oh yeah, he was in the worst kind of hell.