Sweet Revenge (13 page)

“I don’t have time to be positive. You’re here to get trained, not get gold stars.” He looked down at his stopwatch. “Do it again.”

Cursing softly at his stubbornness, Jamie bent over and put her hands on her knees. She needed her breath back before she tried it again. What Dylan’s problem was, she couldn’t begin to fathom. Yesterday, after she’d come back upstairs from practicing by herself, he hadn’t been around. Last night, he’d said only a handful of words to her. This morning, he hadn’t even bothered with that much. The last couple of weeks, he hadn’t been verbose by any stretch of the imagination, but at least he’d been civil. Now he was back to acting the way he had when she’d first arrived.

“Any time now, Jamie.”

The overexaggerated feigned patience putting her teeth on edge, Jamie went to the starting point and glared at him in challenge.

“Go!”

Fury giving her impetus, she flew over the hurdles and scampered through the tunnel like a four-legged creature. Triumphant at her improved speed and skill, she spared a glance at Dylan. The hollow look in his eyes startled her. What was his problem? She grabbed hold of the rope and swung across the sand trap. Rattled, her concentration off, she let go too soon and landed face-first on the sand.

Stunned, she felt panic seize her as her lungs worked to expel breath that wasn’t there. She couldn’t breathe. Hard, callused hands turned her over gently. She stared up at Dylan, unable to find the air to speak.

His deep voice soothing, he said, “Take it easy. You just got the wind knocked out of you. You’ll be fine.”

The roaring in her ears decreased; seconds later, her breath returned. Jamie focused on Dylan’s dark green gaze as she pulled air back into her starved lungs. Feeling somewhat normal, but totally embarrassed, she put her elbows on the ground to lift herself up. Dylan’s grasped her shoulders, holding her in place.

She frowned up at him. “Let me up.”

“No, I need to check for broken bones.”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m checking. Stay still.”

Since his tone brooked no argument, Jamie lay silent and unmoving while Dylan ran his hands up and down her body. Though his touch was impersonal, she was acutely aware that the hands belonged to a man she was both crazy about and wanted to smack on a daily basis. Other than their practice sessions, this was the first time he’d ever really touched her. The anger she’d felt before disappeared as desire unfurled and bloomed, heating her from the inside out.

It was all Dylan could do to keep his hands from shaking as he ran them up and down Jamie’s soft, slender body. His heart had been in his throat when she’d fallen; now he was putting himself through more hell by touching her. Dammit, where was that iron control he used to pride himself on?

“Dylan?”

As Jamie’s soft voice pulled him from his crazy, reckless thoughts, he moved his gaze to her face. And lost his battle. Her eyes were heated, filled with a want that echoed within him. With a groan of surrender, he lowered his head and took her mouth. He softly teased her lips, her taste sweeter than every fantasy he’d ever had. When he felt her hands on his shoulders, pulling him closer, he licked at her lips, seeking a sweeter, deeper taste. The opening of her mouth took his breath. There was no hesitancy in her actions. Her tongue met and dueled with his, drawing at him.

Lowering his body over hers, careful of his weight, he propped himself on his arms, allowing only his lips to touch her. Angling his mouth, he pressed deeper, withdrew, and plunged again. Thrusting and retreating, over and over, mimicking the motion for what another part of him ached to do.

Soft, insistent hands tugged at him, pulled him closer. Dylan lowered himself until he lay on top of her. Still mindful of his big body over her much smaller one, he tried to keep most of his weight off her. Jamie was having none of it. Pulling him harder, she spread her legs and allowed him to settle between them. Dylan nudged his erection against her mound. They groaned into each other’s mouths at the delicious contact.

Warm, soft hands moved beneath his shirt. Needing the same contact, Dylan slid a hand under her sweatshirt and felt the soft, supple skin he’d dreamed about for months. Silky and firm, she was every man’s fantasy … and Dylan’s only dream.

A dream that couldn’t come true.

What the hell was he doing? Pulling away from her abruptly, he looked down to see her soft eyes looking up at him with a desire he’d never imagined. Holy hell, what had he done?

“Dylan, what’s wrong?”

“We can’t do this.”

She laughed softly. “I admit it’s a little damp and chilly, but I—”

He pushed himself away from her and stood. “I can’t do this.”

Not moving, she lay there, so damn beautiful, so damned desirable, so damn out of his reach.

Self-control firmly back in place, he ignored his need along with the shock in her eyes, which was quickly turning to hurt, and glanced down at his watch. “Run the course one more time; then we’ll call it a day.”

“No.”

“What?”

Scooting on the ground to get away from him, she stood. Fury and hurt intermingled in her eyes. “You heard me. I’m tired of your arrogance and your hatefulness.”

“I warned you going in that this wasn’t going to be fun time. You’re the one—”

“Yes, I’m the one who wanted to learn how to defend herself.” Burying her hurt beneath an avalanche of anger, Jamie let wrath take full control. Her body shaking with a myriad of bubbling emotions, she took a giant step toward him. “I’m the one who wants to go after the creep who’s kidnapping people and selling them like they’re meaningless property. I’ve done nothing wrong, and yet you’ve treated me as if I’m guilty of some kind of crime.”

His face expressionless once more, Dylan shook his head. “Not for a second do I think you’ve done anything wrong. You’ve misinterpreted my intent.”

Damn, he was good. “So it’s my misinterpretation that’s the problem here. Not you.”

“I don’t see that there is a problem. I’m your trainer; you’re the student. If you don’t like it, you’re welcome to leave.”

“And what just happened? Is that part of your training program—an approved LCR technique?”

Something flickered in his expression, so fleeting that she couldn’t read it before it was replaced with an even colder mask. “That was a mistake.”

What had been one of the most magnificent moments of her life had just been ground to dust with four simple words. Fury, hurt, and a thousand other emotions swirled together into a combustible firestorm she couldn’t contain. Whirling around, she took off running.

“Jamie, dammit. Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“Away from you.”

“Get in the truck. I’ll take you back.”

She spared him a contemptuous glance. “I’ll walk back to Paris before I accept anything from you again.”

She heard a softly worded “Shit.”

With her fury leading the way, the fact that she didn’t know where she was going didn’t stop her. At some point she’d end up on a road somewhere. Walking back to Paris might not be possible, but she had told the truth. Dylan Savage had stomped on her feelings for the last time. She hadn’t learned all that she needed to learn, which meant she would have to go to Plan B and find someone to finish up her training. If she never saw Dylan again, it’d be too soon for her.

Yes, she knew that the biggest part of her anger was her hurt at his reaction to their kiss. After months of wanting that stern, beautiful mouth on hers, needing him with a want she’d never imagined, he had finally given her what she wanted and then had taken it all back.

Anger receded, cooled by the frozen and slushy snow she trudged through. Galloping aimlessly through a frozen mass of yuck dressed only in long tights, a sweatshirt, and running shoes wasn’t the brightest move she could have made. The temperature was rapidly falling, and the heat generated by her anger was fading away. Shivering, Jamie hugged herself for warmth.

“Jamie. Stop!”

Refusing to turn around, she increased her pace. Easy to do, since she was going downhill. When she reached a flat area, she sped up, almost running now. Though the mushy wet mess had now soaked her shoes, no way was she going back.

“Jamie, dammit. Look at me!”

She shouted, “Leave me alone!”

“You have to stop. Now! Don’t move.”

Something in his voice caught her attention. She stopped and turned. Dylan stood several yards away from her … his expression of alarm alerting her that something was very wrong.

“I want you to walk slowly toward me. Don’t veer off. Take the same steps you took before.”

Wary, no longer willing to give him her total trust, she asked, “Why?”

“Because this flat area holds the runoff of the snow. You’re standing in the middle of a frozen pond. I don’t know how solid it is.”

Great, Jamie. The one time you stomp off in a huff, you end up needing to be rescued again
.

She looked down at the footprints she’d made. Having no choice but to head back the way she came, Jamie stepped in the first print. Relieved that it seemed to have no impact, she took another, then another.

“You’re doing good,” Dylan shouted. “Just a few more—”

Something moved beneath her foot. Her head jerked up, she managed to scream, “Dylan!” before she plunged through the ice and was swallowed whole.

ten

Fear rocketing through him, Dylan whipped his head around, looking for a tree branch … anything he could use. Seeing absolutely nothing, he did the only thing he could. Running forward, he reached the spot where Jamie had disappeared.

Her head bobbed back up, her eyes wild with panic.

With time of the essence, he dropped his body to lie flat on the ice and demanded, “Give me your hand.”

A slender, sodden arm came up, uncoordinated and almost lifeless. Dylan grabbed hold and pulled. The ice shifted beneath him. Dammit, it wasn’t going to hold.

Adrenaline, fueled by panic, gave him a strength he never would have had on his own. With one long, hard jerk, he pulled her completely out of the water.

She landed beside him—soaked to the skin and freezing. Praying that his luck would hold, Dylan scooped her into his arms, and stood. Taking long, swift strides, he ran for safety. The cracking, shifting ice beneath his feet warned him that time had run out.

Pressing Jamie tight against his chest, he growled, “Hold on!” and leaped. Flying through the air, he shifted his body in mid-flight and landed with a hard thud on his side, with Jamie on top of him.

Fear running like a rampaging river through him, Dylan looked at the soaked, shivering woman in his arms. “Are you okay?”

Her eyes wide with pain and fear, she nodded. Shudders quaked through her body; her lips, blue from the cold, tried to form words and managed only a stuttered whisper: “C-c-cooold.”

It was at least half a mile to his truck. Thick clouds now covered the sun, and the temperature had dropped dramatically … was probably in the lower twenties. He made a decision she might not like, but at this point, he didn’t care. He went to his knees, pulled her beside him and with quick, efficient moves stripped off her clothes.

She never protested … never said anything. Her eyes were locked on his, motionless in her deathlike white face. There was no change of expression. Was she going into shock?

He whipped his sweatshirt off, wrapped it around her, lifted her in his arms, and took off again. He had to get her into some warm water and get some hot liquid inside her. If not, hypothermia could set in.

As he ran, he started a one-sided conversation, having no real idea what he was saying. Keeping her awake was imperative. Though she still didn’t talk, her eyes never left his face.

The sight of his SUV was the most beautiful one he’d ever seen. He opened the passenger door and hauled himself inside, still holding Jamie tight in his arms. He pressed the start button and the engine rumbled to life. With a flip of the heat switch, air blasted on high—cold but it was still warmer than outside. Scooting sideways, he slammed his foot on the gas pedal and shot forward. He was five minutes from the cabin.

“Dylan?” she whispered.

He glanced down to see that her eyes were closed. “No. Open your eyes, Jamie. You can’t go to sleep.”

Her eyelids fluttered, and he knew she was doing her best to stay awake. Hoping to get a reaction from her, he said, “You’re right. I’m an asshole.”

Though her entire body shook as if she had palsy, her lips twitched slightly as if she were trying to smile but it was too much effort. “You think I’m going to argue with you?”

Her voice was weak, but he heard the amusement in her tone. An emotion he didn’t recognize caused a sting in his eyes and a lump in his throat. “It’d be the first time you haven’t argued.”

“It’s because you’re so easy.”

Seeing her eyes flickering closed again, he said, “Keep those eyes open. We’re almost there.”

Heavy eyelids blinked up at him. “Sorry I stormed off like that. Not very mature.”

Since his own behavior had been adolescent at best, he had no room to criticize her. “I’m sorry for what I said.”

“Wow, I think the earth just shook. Dylan Savage apologizing.”

He snorted. “Don’t get used to it.”

Jerking to a stop in front of the cabin, he shoved open the door. “Can you put your arms around my neck?”

She nodded slowly and complied. His arms tight around her, Dylan jumped out of the cab and stalked inside the cabin.

Jamie locked her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering. She was cold … so very cold. And so very tired. Beneath half-closed eyes, she watched Dylan. The grim set of his mouth wasn’t unusual, but the stark fear in his eyes was new. She’d been under the water for only a few seconds, but it had felt like an eternity. Once again, Dylan had been her rescuer.

He pulled out the vanity chair beneath the counter of her bathroom, dropped her into it, and then handed her a towel. “Sit here while I run some water. Okay?”

Her limbs so heavy with cold and exhaustion they felt like lead, Jamie lowered her head and patted at her streaming hair. Weary from the effort, she leaned back against the chair and held the towel against her chest for warmth.

His movements swift and sure, Dylan plugged the tub and turned the water on. Jamie eyed him dreamily. A part of her knew that if she didn’t feel so cold and tired, she’d still be angry or, at the very least, hurt by what happened earlier. Right now, she wasn’t thinking about that. All she could concentrate on was watching a shirtless Dylan draw her a bath while she fantasized about sharing it with him.

Yes, she knew it was a stupid, hopeless fantasy. The kiss had been an anomaly. He’d been aroused, but what healthy, heterosexual man wouldn’t get an erection when a woman practically threw herself at him. She’d been the one to pull him closer, the one to pull him down and grind herself against him, the one to make room between her legs for him. Heat, welcome and intense, flooded through her at the memory.

“Can you stand?”

She nodded and pulled herself to her feet. When she swayed slightly, Dylan caught her by the shoulders. As much as she wanted to lean into him, she couldn’t. He had made it clear that what had happened before was a mistake. She wouldn’t compound that mistake by offering herself to him again. Making a fool out of herself twice today was going to be her quota.

“Here, let’s get you into the water.”

Holding her with one arm, Dylan pulled the shirt still wrapped around her and dropped it on the floor. Before she could protest, he lifted her in his arms and lowered her slowly into the water.

“It shouldn’t be too hot. Feel okay?”

A delicious warmth spread through her body. “Feels wonderful.”

“Still feeling sleepy?”

“A little.”

“Lean back against the tub.”

Sliding deeper into the water, Jamie leaned against the back of the tub and sighed. She knew she should be feeling some kind of embarrassment. Though she’d never been particularly shy about her body, a rational part of her brain reminded her that this man had just rejected her advances.

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “You don’t have to stay.”

Instead of leaving or telling her he wasn’t going anywhere until he knew she was fine, Dylan did something completely unexpected. Picking up the bottle of lemon-scented shampoo on the side of the tub, he poured a small amount into his palm and said, “Sit up a little.”

Jamie sat up and then closed her eyes on a sigh at the glorious feel of Dylan’s firm, hard fingers and hands slowly massaging her scalp. The fragrance of lemons wafted through the air, and every argument she had just given herself evaporated. Heat bloomed everywhere, and a moan escaped.

“Feel good?”

The husky, thick tone in his voice was so unusual, Jamie opened startled eyes to look at him. Desire, hot and potent, like a thousand blazing candles, burned in his eyes.

Too afraid to take that look for what she thought it was, she whispered, “Dylan?”

“Lie back so I can rinse your hair.”

Her eyes locked with his as she lowered herself into the water. Dylan held her head in one of his big hands and used the other to rinse the soap from her hair.

No way he didn’t see the need and want on her face. Not only that, her breathing had become more labored and her nipples were peaked … the thought of having his mouth on them made them even harder.

He finished rinsing. “Sit up a little.”

Mesmerized, her body throbbing with anticipation of what might come next, Jamie once again sat up.

Dylan pushed her gently back against the tub and took a washcloth from the shelf beside him. He soaked the cloth with water and then tenderly bathed her face.

Needing to speed things up, to appease the desire thrumming through her body, and answer the aching throb between her legs, she said, “Dylan … please.”

“Shh, just relax.”

Her heart pounding, Jamie kept her eyes glued to his—the desire and need she saw in them turning her on almost as much as his hands. With intense concentration, Dylan moved from her face to her throat and then her shoulders. Her breath held in suspension, she felt the cloth move lower, to her breasts. When the cloth rubbed against a taut nipple, aching for his mouth, she was unable to control her gasp.

“Feel good?”

Swallowing hard, she whispered, “Yes.”

The cloth moved to her other breast, and he circled her nipple gently; then he moved slowly, deliberately down her torso, over her stomach, and veered to her right hip. Jamie couldn’t prevent a moan of disappointment that he hadn’t gone to the spot that needed him the most.

The gentle lapping of the water as it moved over her body and the increased breathing—hers and his—were the only sounds in the room. She continued to watch his face carefully. The taut line of his jaw indicated that he was striving for control. Her gaze went back to his eyes. She had to know … had to ask. If he stopped and pulled back … if he said it was a mistake again, she wouldn’t be able to handle it. “Dylan, what are you doing?”

“Making you feel good.”

Because of what happened earlier? Did he feel guilty about it and this was his way of making it up to her? That wasn’t what she wanted. “You don’t have to—”

“I want this … need this … please, Jamie?”

Tightness filled her chest. Big, gruff, and grumpy Dylan Savage was saying please … asking for permission to touch her. Giving up her body completely to his ministrations, Jamie relaxed against the tub again and watched as the cloth in his hand moved back up her leg and then stopped at the inside of her thigh. “Part your legs for me, sweetheart.”

Whether it was the words or the acknowledgment of his first endearment, she didn’t know. But the instant he spoke, the aching need between her legs grew stronger and became an unrelenting throb. Opening them, Jamie gasped as he tenderly rubbed the cloth over her mound and then in between the folds of her sex. As if consumed by a raging wildfire, all cold dissipated, and heat zoomed throughout her body. The throbbing became an excruciating, pulsing need, begging for an end to the increasing, tormenting pleasure.

Her whisper of “Please” was answered in the best way possible. Dylan dropped the cloth into the water and Jamie watched, breathlessly, as his fingers disappeared inside her. Strokes, gentle but firm, played and strummed at the top of her sex. Of their own volition, her legs went wider, and Dylan met her invitation by pushing his fingers even deeper. She pushed upward to meet him, her body clenched and spasmed, and a burning, glowing ecstasy followed. Her eyes closed as the intensity of orgasm hit its peak, bright flashes of light appearing before her closed lids.

She heard moans, gasps, and then a husky, aroused voice that sounded so unlike Dylan’s growled, “Look at me.”

Feeling languid and needy at the same time, she opened her eyes. Dylan’s expression held fierceness and more emotion than she’d ever thought she’d see in him.

“Do you want more?”

Unable to verbalize just how much, she splashed water everywhere as she reached for him. Grabbing his shoulders, she pulled him down and answered him with an openmouthed invitation against his lips. With a growling groan, Dylan put his hands around her waist and picked her up. Suddenly, Jamie was out of the tub, wet and deliciously aroused, and clinging to Dylan’s hard body.

Never letting go of Jamie’s lips, Dylan snagged a towel and headed into her bedroom. When he dropped her on the edge of the bed and began to dry her hair, she surprised the hell out of him and took the towel from his hands. “I can do this.” Her gaze dropped to his pants. “Your clothes are all wet. Why don’t you get out of them?”

The confident, sultry tone in her voice almost undid him. A sexually assertive Jamie was a turn-on beyond his imaginings. Dylan stripped, and in seconds was on the bed with her.

Their arms closing around each other, hands caressed, lips met, parted, delved into each other, and passion, need, and burning desire shut out everything else. The war Dylan had waged for so long was lost … the battle over, as a lifetime of denial disintegrated beneath an onslaught of fierce, burning need.

A brief semblance of sanity put passion on pause; he lifted his mouth from hers. “I don’t have any condoms.”

“I do.”

At some point, he’d be shocked by that news and want to know more. For right now, he was too damn grateful to do anything other than ask, “Where?”

“Bedside table.”

Dylan rolled over, found the package, and ripped into it. Sliding the rubber onto his erection, he turned back to her and had to stop. He hadn’t taken the time to relish this moment as he should have. He’d been about to mount her as if she were just another woman to slake his lust with, instead of who she was: the most beautiful, precious thing in the whole world.

He could’ve lost her today. His stupidity and arrogance could have cost him the one woman he’d gladly give his life for. The fact that he had no future with her no longer mattered. If he did nothing else right for the rest of his life, he would give Jamie a night to savor and remember forever.

With that in mind, Dylan retained control of his emotions and lust, and bent down to give her the satisfaction she deserved.

Lying on his side next to her, he pressed his mouth softly, briefly to hers and then feathered kisses, one after another, on her sweet lips. Her breath hitched, and Dylan took it into his mouth, blending her gasps with his own. Moving his mouth lower, he followed the silken skin beneath her chin and then her neck. Stopping at the hollow of her throat, he bathed her skin with his tongue. When she groaned, “Oh yes, Dylan, more,” he thought he would lose it. Desire pounded through him, and he closed his eyes for a moment to regain control. After dreaming about this every night for months, damned if he’d rush to the end. Not when the journey was so unbelievably delicious and worthwhile.