Up In Flames (15 page)

She really did need to learn a little discretion, she thought, now wishing she hadn’t told him all her intentions. But she was used to going after what she wanted, and he’d been irresistible, a man unlike any she’d ever known. Everything about him turned her on, from the protectiveness she’d never received before, to his strength and intensity, to his rough velvet voice and drool-worthy bod. The man was sexy emotionally and physically, and she wanted him.

She caught his wrist and kissed his palm. “Mick, you need to rest. There’ll be plenty of time for...”

He carried her hand to the thick erection testing the worn material of his jeans. Her heart dropped to her stomach, then shot into her throat.

“You think,” he whispered roughly, his eyes closing at the feel of her hand on him, “that I can rest with that? The answer is no.”

Her palm tingled and of their own accord her fingers began to curl around him. He lifted her hand away, leaned down and kissed her. “I just need fifteen minutes to shower and shave.”

Carrying his bag into the room with him, he turned and closed the door, leaving Del standing there with her lips parted and her eyes glazed and her muscles quivering. She sucked in a breath and let her head drop forward to the door, bracing herself there until she stopped trembling.

His effect on her was startling, almost too much to bear. She’d given up on men as too much trouble, with not enough payoff. But with a mere look, Mick could make her hot, and when he touched her, or she touched him, the need was overwhelming.

She heard the shower start and realized she hadn’t reminded him to be careful. She leaned close and said loudly, “Don’t soak your shoulder! The doctor said that was a no-no.”

Just as loudly, he retorted, “I was there, Delilah, remember?” And then she heard the rustling of the shower curtain and knew he was naked, knew he was wet....

She turned and hurried away.

When he’d answered her, he’d sounded distinctly irritable. Well, hell. Heaven knew, he was likely to be doubly so when he found out she had no intention of making love with him today. It would be too much for him, and there was a good chance he’d injure his shoulder anew.

No, she couldn’t let him do that.

She also couldn’t let him go unsatisfied. She closed her eyes, feeling wicked and sinful and anxious. There was only one thing to do. Granted,
she
was likely to end up the frustrated one, but that was a small price to pay to a man who’d played her hero, a man who’d saved her life. And she had no doubt he’d make it up to her later. She may not have known him long, but she knew that much about him already. The man wanted her—more than any man ever had.

It was a heady feeling. She liked it.

She especially liked him.

* * *

Mick found her in the kitchen, staring into her refrigerator as if pondering what to fix. A glass of iced tea sat on the counter.

He shook his head, not yet announcing himself. Foolish woman. How could she possibly think he’d want food when she stood there looking more than edible? Oh yeah, he wanted to eat her up. And he would, slowly and with great relish. “Delilah.”

She whirled around, first appearing guilty, then abashed when she saw his naked chest. He’d done no more than pull on snug cotton boxers; he had no need of the sling right now, though he kept his right arm slightly elevated to relieve his shoulder of pressure. The bandages there were made to withstand showers and would dry soon.

Any clothes he would have put on would just be coming off again, so he hadn’t bothered with them, either. By look and deed she’d made her willingness, her own desire, clear. It didn’t matter that he hardly knew her, not when everything about her felt so right.

He braced his feet apart and let her look her fill.

Her eyes widened and then traveled the length of him. Twice. She touched her throat. “If I looked as good as you, I’d have skipped the boxers.”

Though he appreciated the sentiment, Mick was too far gone with lust to manage a grin. “Want me to take them off?”

She shook her head and said, “Yes. But not yet. If you were naked now, I’d forget you’re hurt and do something I’d regret.”

“Like what?” She continued to stand there, her gaze returning again and again to his straining hard-on, which the snug cotton boxers did nothing to hide.

“Like throwing you down on the floor and having my way with you.”

He did grin this time. “The bed is right around the corner. Why don’t we go there now?”

Just that easily, he saw her resolve form, harden. He may have only known her a day, but he already knew that look.

“You need to take your medicine. Good as you look, I can see that you hurt.”

The pain in his shoulder and head were nothing, certainly not enough to make him want to wait another day to have her. “I’ll take a pill after I’ve sated myself with you.”

Her gaze locked on his. “Oh boy, you don’t pull any punches, do you?”

“From what I remember last night in the hospital, neither do you.” And to encourage her, he added, “But I like it when you speak your mind.”

She nodded. “Okay, yes, I want you to sate yourself with me. I want to sate myself with you, too.” Her expression was one of worry, regret. “But I figure that’d probably take me hours, maybe even days, so we should maybe put it off until you’re not likely to die on me.”

Damn, her brazen words mixed with the sweetness of her expression and the obvious worry she felt for him was an aphrodisiac that fired his blood. She was a mix of contradictions, always unique, sometimes pushy and too stubborn. Mick took two long steps toward her, ignored the continual throbbing in his shoulder and head, and gathered her close.

He wasn’t prepared for her stiffened arms, which carefully pushed him back again. Shakily, she said, “We have to make a deal.”

The need stalled, replaced by innate suspicion. What possible deal could she need to make at this moment? Thoughts flew through his head as he remembered numerous deals offered to him by prostitutes, drug dealers, gamblers, people from his youth and the people he now came into contact with every day of his life.

He also thought about the robbery, about her uncom-mon interest in the jewelry store, her interest in him, her willingness to bring a near stranger into her home and have sex with him.

By nature, he was overly cautious. From his upbringing, and then working undercover, he’d become suspicious of almost everyone and everything.

Because of his background, he often doubted the sincerity of women in general.

Dropping his hands so he wouldn’t accidentally hurt her with his anger, Mick growled, “What kind of deal?”

She blinked, confused by his temper. Carefully, her words no more than a whisper of sound, she explained, “I can’t stand seeing you in pain. I want you to take your medicine first, then we’ll go to bed.”

Mick made sure no reaction showed on his face, but once again she’d managed to take him off guard. Her deal was for him, not for her. “The medicine makes me too groggy.”

“Not for fifteen minutes or more. I’ve watched you after you take it. It doesn’t kick in right away, and you only go to sleep when you let yourself.”

Still not touching her, he said, “What I have in mind will take more than fifteen minutes.”

She inhaled sharply at his words, then touched him, her hand opening on his chest, her fingers splayed, sifting through his body hair. The reflexive clench of his muscles brought a sharp ache to his temples, his shoulder.

“You’re welcome to stay here until you’re completely recovered,” she said, still stroking him with what seemed like acute awe, probably attempting to soothe him, when in fact each glide of her delicate fingers over his muscles wound him that much tighter. “There’ll be plenty of time for both of us to indulge ourselves.”

He didn’t answer right away, trying to figure her out in the middle of an intense arousal that kept rational thought just out of reach.

“Please,” she added, both hands now sliding up to his shoulders. One edged the bandage that came over his shoulder from the back. “I won’t be able to enjoy myself for fear of hurting you.”

He didn’t want that. He fully intended for her to experience more than mere enjoyment. He wanted her ripe with pleasure, numb with it. He wanted to give her the kind of explosive release she’d have only with him.

Yet, she was right. In his present condition, it wasn’t likely to happen. With her insistence, she was probably helping him to save face.

Mick brought her close and said against her hair, “I’m sorry. I’m not used to wanting a woman quite this much.” He wasn’t used to wanting to
trust
a woman, either. But he wanted to trust Delilah. He wanted to involve himself with every aspect of her life. He needed to tie her to him in some way.

Nodding, she said, “I know the feeling. You blow my socks off.”

He tilted her back so he could see her face. Her honesty humbled him, and pleased him.

“We haven’t discussed it,” he said, thinking now was as good a time as any, “but I want you to know the nurse was right, I come with a clean bill of health—in all ways. Not only have I always been discriminating, but I’m very cautious, too.”

That brought a beautiful smile to her face. “Same here. I can’t claim to have been a recluse, but I haven’t met many men that I wanted to get involved with. Not like this, not enough to let them interrupt my life. And men take exception to that. They don’t like to be neatly compartmentalized.”

“Is that right?”

She nodded. “You may not have noticed, but I get really wrapped up in my work, and most of the time I’m not even aware of men around me. At least, not for long.”

Mick grinned. “I noticed. At first I wondered if maybe you were a lesbian.”

Her mouth opened, then closed. She frowned at him, her pale blue eyes burning bright. “I’m not.”

His grin widened. “I noticed that, too.”

Still scowling, she said, “Not that there’s anything wrong with—”

“Of course not. But I have to tell you how glad I am that you’re interested in men.”

“I’m interested in
you.
”

He appreciated her clarification. “Which means I’m one lucky bastard.”

She snorted. “If you were so lucky, you wouldn’t have gotten shot.” She turned and grabbed up the pills. “Take these.”

He downed them in one gulp, washing the bitter taste away with sweetened tea.

“Are you hungry? You really didn’t eat that much yesterday, and you hardly touched your breakfast.”

He’d been too caught up in his thoughts, in mentally organizing all the things that had to be done that day, to concern himself with breakfast. And the truth was, he felt hollow down to his toes. He could probably eat two meals, but not yet. “No. I just want you. And now that I’ve swallowed the damn pills, time’s wasting.”

Her eyes warmed, the vivid blue darkening. She took his hand and turned to lead him down the hall. Without looking at him, she said, “Let me see if I can help you to sleep soundly for a few hours.”

It took a great deal of resolve not to turn her against the wall and enter her right there, standing up, without the benefit of a soft mattress. At twenty-six, he’d known lust, but he’d never known anything like this, an all-encompassing need to devour a particular woman.

Her bedroom was small, holding a bed that would barely accommodate his size. The beige spread was tossed half off the bottom of the mattress, pooling on the floor and showing matching beige sheets. Across from it sat a triple dresser with a mirror, the top cluttered with papers and candles and receipts.

A wooden rocker sat in front of one window. The other window held an air conditioner, softly humming on low, keeping the room pleasantly cool. Over the bed a ceiling fan slowly whirled, barely stirring the air but making the room comfortable.

The building didn’t have central air, of course. None of the buildings on her street did. Some of them didn’t have heat, either. Thankfully, Delilah’s apartment building was kept up, just as Mick kept up his building next door. And she wasn’t on the first floor, so she could open her windows without fear of intruders.

Her bedroom wasn’t what you’d call neat, not with laundry piled on the chair and shoes tossed haphazardly over her closet floor, but it was orderly. He had the distinct impression Delilah could walk into this room and find anything she needed without effort.

She went straight to the bed and propped up the pillows. “Sit here.”

Bemused, Mick allowed her to take control. She always seemed less reserved when she was the aggressor, as if taking control gave her more confidence. He wanted her without inhibitions, so he gladly let her lead.

He settled himself, easing his injured shoulder back against the headboard. Delilah stood in front of him and unsnapped her jeans. The sound of her zipper sliding down nearly stopped his heart. Transfixed, he watched her disrobing in front of him. There was no false modesty, no timidity, but no real brazenness, either. She revealed her body with a no-nonsense acceptance that touched his heart; she wouldn’t flaunt, but neither would she cower. Mick tightened his fists in the bottom sheet and held himself still.

He’d been half-afraid he was rushing her, moving too fast. But judging by her willingness now, she was finally as ready as him.

But then, he’d been ready from the first moment he saw her.

CHAPTER FIVE

Delilah’s jeans dropped, and she smiled at him as she stepped away from them, using one foot to nudge them aside. “I’m not as perfect as you,” she stated, again with that simple acceptance of her own perceptions, “but somehow I have a feeling that won’t bother you.”

Oh, he was plenty bothered, on the point of going insane. Her comments weren’t geared toward gaining compliments, but he could only give her the truth. “You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.”

Her mouth twitched and then she laughed. “Yeah, right. With small boobs and a straight waist and gangly limbs?”

He wanted to correct her, to point out everything he found enticing, yet when she caught the hem of her tank top and tugged it over her head, he went mute. His heart struck his rib cage, his breath caught.

The bra she wore had no shoulder straps, and the cups only half covered her. When she flipped her hair back, he could have sworn he saw the edge of a mauve nipple.

He swallowed hard. “This is insane. Come here.”

“In a minute. Don’t you want me naked?” she teased.

“God, yes.” He shifted his legs. He was uncomfortable, drawn tight, ready to come from just the sight of her. “I want to touch you, too.”
And taste you and bury myself deep.

Reaching behind her back, she unhooked her bra and let it drop. Her breasts were round and firm, with small, tightly puckered nipples now darkened with desire.

She left her miniscule panties on and walked toward him, her gait long and sure and purposeful. Without reserve, she climbed into the bed and straddled his lap. Mick groaned as her rounded bottom nestled on his thighs and her breasts came even with his face. He reached for her.

“Shh,” she said, catching his right arm and holding it still. “Let me. You just sit back and relax.”

Blood rushed through his head. He gritted his teeth and nodded. He didn’t tell her that relaxing was out of the question.

“Tell me what you want.” As she spoke, she looked at him and touched him, and his vision narrowed to only her.

“I want to taste you.”

Her eyes smoldered, encouraging him even as her hands attempted to ease him. It was a wasted effort. Each soft stroke of her hands—over his chest, his uninjured shoulder, his waist, his throat—inflamed him.

He saw the pulse fluttering in her throat when she asked huskily, “Where?”

“Everywhere, but for now, I want your nipples.”

Her thighs tightened around his, giving her away. She wasn’t nearly as detached or in control as she pretended. He didn’t quite understand her forceful determination, but he knew at least part of it was inspired by reciprocal lust.

She drew a shaky breath and slowly, so slowly the anticipation damn near killed him, she leaned forward.

Mick struggled to stay calm. He couldn’t stop himself from bending his knees, forcing her farther forward, couldn’t stop the flexing of his cock against her tantalizing ass. But he made certain to gently kiss the rounded softness of her breasts, to nuzzle against her until she moaned. He teased her, licking close to her nipple but not quite letting his tongue touch it.

She twisted, attempting to hurry him, but Mick held himself in check. She needed to catch up to him—if that was possible.

With a rough, impatient sound, she finally murmured, “Mick, please...”

He placed a wet, soft kiss directly over her nipple, briefly drawing her into the heat of his mouth with a gentle suction, and then releasing her. It wasn’t easy, considering he wanted to feast on her.

She moved against him, one small jerk on his thighs before she stopped herself. Panting, she said, “I like that.”

“I thought you would.” He did it again, then again and again until she gasped for breath, until her hands settled in his hair and her nipples were tight wet peaks. Likely with more force than she realized, she brought his mouth to her breast, saying without words that she now needed more.

And he suckled her, strong and deep and long.

The combined sensations rocked him: the taste and feel of her on his tongue as his mouth tugged at her, the heat of her sex pressing insistently against his abdomen, her scent and softness and her unique determination.

The physical bombardment on his senses was enough, leaving him confused and wild with need. But the emotional storm also overwhelmed him. He wanted to consume her savagely, brand her as his own, hear her cries and feel the bite of her nails. And he wanted to hold her gently to his heart, to let her feel protected and know that he’d take care of her. Basic, elemental instincts rolled through him in a way he’d never felt before.

As he continued to tongue and suck, her back arched and she released a ragged moan. Then she moved against his thighs, a riding motion that rubbed the damp silk of her panties along the length of his shaft.

He replaced his mouth with his fingers and said harshly, “Kiss me, Delilah.”

She did, stealing his breath as her tongue licked in to tease his. As wild and out of control as he felt, she was more so.

“Let’s get these panties off you,” he murmured, knowing he couldn’t last much longer.

She pulled away, trembling, gasping for breath. Her head dropped forward. After a moment, she dipped down and kissed his throat, her mouth open and hot and wet. Mick wanted to protest, but he loved the feel of her mouth on him.

The pills had muddled his mind some and it took more effort than he could dredge up to stop her as she sank lower, biting at his chest, hotly licking his own nipples, tasting and teasing him.

His arm hurt like a son of a bitch and his head continued to throb dully, but raging lust and crushing need overrode it all. Using his good arm, he tangled his fingers in her silky hair, letting it slide over his chest and then his abdomen as she moved lower and lower down the length of his body.

When her tongue dipped into his navel, he nearly shouted with the pleasure of it. “God, Delilah,” he managed to rasp, “baby, you have to stop.”

She ignored him. Her hand crept up his tensed thigh, higher and higher until she cuddled his testicles for a brief, heart-stopping moment before grasping his erection and slowly stroking.

He stiffened, all sensation, hot and thick, rushing into his groin. Her mouth, still gentle but hungry, kissed him through the cotton boxers, and the pleasure-pain was so excruciating it blocked everything else.

He cursed, feeling himself sinking, out of control. He had to stop her, but he didn’t want to. He wanted her to—

As if she’d read his mind, she eased the boxers down.

“No,” Mick protested with a long groan, knowing he sounded less than convincing. The damn pills had melted away his determination, made him forget all his plans. He could only focus on Delilah, on what she did, how she touched him.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” she breathed.

He opened his eyes, needing to watch. The look on her face mirrored his own emotions of fire, need, possession. She watched her hand driving him to distraction, her grip firm, her thumb curling over the end of his erection with each long stroke, pushing him closer and closer....

Mick felt a surge of release and desperately fought it off, but she saw the drop of fluid at the head of his penis and leaned forward.

He shuddered, cursed, held his breath—then shouted in reaction when her mouth closed over him, not tentatively, as he’d expected, but sliding wetly down the length of him, taking all of him in, sucking.

Maybe if he hadn’t taken the damn pills, maybe if it had been any woman other than her, he could have controlled himself.

But from the moment he’d seen her he’d wanted her, and he couldn’t hold back, couldn’t stop himself from coming. His fingers knotted in her hair and he held her head to him, not that it was necessary because she didn’t pull away. She drew him deeper and made a low sound of pleasure that he felt in his soul. He tightened, surged, and experienced the strongest release of his entire life. He growled with the force of it, his body taut, arching, his mind going blank.

His only realization in that turbulent moment of rioting sensation was that no other man would ever touch her; she was his, and he intended to keep her.

* * *

Mick didn’t sleep long this time, probably no more than an hour, but he awoke half-frozen. The air conditioner, on the highest setting, hummed loudly, and the ceiling fan whirled overhead. He felt his hair blowing, felt his skin prickle with goose bumps.

He’d passed out just as she’d left him, half propped against the headboard, his legs now limp, his shoulder cushioned by a soft pillow. At least she’d pulled the spread up to his waist, he thought, a bit disgruntled.

He felt like an idiot as he looked around and realized the room was empty. He cursed. Then cursed again when he pushed the spread away and became racked with chills. It was like sleeping on the wing of an airplane, for crying out loud!

He swung his legs to the floor, stood—and nearly fell. Weakness had invaded every muscle. The pain pills had no effect on his aches, not after that mind-grinding orgasm, where every muscle in his body, clear down to the soles of his feet, had knotted in pulsating pleasure. She’d wrung him out—no doubt that had been her intent.

He grunted, unable to believe what she’d done, and unwilling to accept that after she’d done it, he’d had the gall to fall asleep.

If the room hadn’t felt like a meat locker, he’d probably have been hot with embarrassment.

He glanced down at his boxers, still around his thighs, and shook his head. It was too much, far too much.

He straightened his underwear, whipped the spread off the bed and around his shoulders to ward off the cold, then went to the window to turn the unit down. The air conditioner sputtered and died with a sigh.

Forcing himself forward on shaky limbs, Mick left the bedroom. The apartment was quiet, other than the rattling of pans in the kitchen area. On his way down the hall, he decided to take the offense. Delilah knew he’d wanted to make love to her, but she’d taken the choice away from him.
How
she’d taken it away had been beyond incredible, but still, she needed to know that he wouldn’t be so easily manipulated. Not ever again.

He was appalled that he’d proved so easy this time. But then, maybe that’s why she’d given him the pills, to weaken his resolve. He’d be sure to ask her that.

When he reached the arched kitchen doorway, she had her back to him, stirring a pan of something on the stove. Whatever she was cooking smelled good, as did the coffee in the coffeemaker. She’d pulled her tank top back on, but not her jeans, and the sight of her bottom in the silky panties did a lot to obliterate his other concerns.

Before he got distracted, he asked, “Did you talk me into the pain pills so you could keep us from having sex?”

She yelped, dropped her stirring spoon and jerked around to face him. Their gazes locked.

The sight of her face made his mind go blank, his heart trip.
She’d been crying.

“Delilah?” he asked around a sudden lump of emotion. Damn, that bothered him. He didn’t get lumps of emotion. In his job, he saw the worst life had to offer and he handled it dispassionately, with a distance that could be applauded. Always, from the time he’d been a young boy, he’d kept his emotions in check.

But God, she looked like hell with her eyes swollen and wet, her cheeks blotchy, her nose red. Seeing her made his heart thump.

She bit her bottom lip and turned to the stove again. He heard her sniff. “Yes.”

Mick shook his head. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her. Yet she’d turned her back on him. “Yes what?”

“Yes, I gave you the pills so you wouldn’t complain when I...eased you. It was the only thing I could think of. I didn’t want you to strain yourself, and the doctor said it was too soon for you to have sex.”

Talking with Delilah was like wading through syrup. He kept getting stuck, but damn, it was sweet. He cleared his throat, forcing the emotion away so he could think and react clearly. He slowly approached her and stood at her back, close enough to breathe in her sexy scent and see the enormous pot of spaghetti sauce she stirred. “You spoke with the doctor about us having sex?” Her initiative amazed him—and aroused him.

“Yes. Right after I bought the condoms.”

Mick paused.
Bought the condoms?
Before he could ask, she said, “I snuck them into the bedroom, in the nightstand drawer, just in case you didn’t go to sleep after you came.”

She spoke as bluntly as any man, but then, she’d done that from the first, speaking her mind with candor. Unlike other women he knew, she didn’t measure her words. She was so female she made him crazy, yet she didn’t always act female. Damn if that didn’t arouse him, too.

Hell, everything she did aroused him. Just moments before he’d thought himself fully satisfied, but now... “The hospital sells rubbers?”

She glanced at him over her shoulder, and he watched one fat tear track down her cheek. “Yeah, of course they do. It’s a hospital, and they understand about unnecessary risks.”

She’d managed to distract him, after all.

Mick shook his head and wrapped one arm around her waist. Resting his chin on top of her head, he asked, “Why are you crying, sweetheart? Did I hurt you?”

“Of course not.” She leaned into him, then pushed back with a frown. “You’re shivering.” Twisting, she put her hand to his forehead in a maternal gesture of concern. “Are you sick?”

“Just cold.” He turned her back around and laced his hands over her middle. Her bottom pressed into his groin. “The room was like ice.”

She nodded. “I figured you’d like it cold. Most men get warmer than women, right?”

He had no idea, but he doubted any man would relish the igloo accommodations she’d provided him. She’d obviously had some sexual experience, and she was comfortable with her body, with her sexuality. But she was far from knowledgeable about the opposite sex. Mick shook his head at the added contradictions. “Why are you crying?”

She shrugged and leaned back against him. “I’m just a little sad. I’m sorry you have to see me like this. I’m a terrible crier. Very ugly. The news just took me by surprise.”