Exposing Alix (31 page)

He traced the outline of her areola and gently rolled her
nipple between his fingers. She exhaled sharply and arched toward him. He bent
over and kissed her breast, took the nipple in his mouth, and sucked gently.

“Yes,” she sighed. It was right. Her body knew him as if
they had been lovers all her life. Heat shot through her, from stomach to toes
to fingers, until her entire body tingled with the force of it.

She tugged on his shirt, and he stepped away long enough
to pull it over his head. His hands closed around her waist. He held her
tightly, staring at her face as if memorizing its contours.

“I can’t give you what you want,” he said. “You have to
know that.”

Alix slipped off the rest of her clothes. When she stood
naked before him, she walked to the bed and lay down. “I’m not leaving,” she
repeated.

She knew he didn’t love her, but it made no difference.
She could no more withhold her love than she could change the tides. It pulled
her toward him, steady and unyielding.

He growled something deep in his throat and continued to
stare. “This isn’t a fairy tale,” he said. “I won’t wake up in the morning and
clothe myself in a suit of armor.”

She held up her arms. “You’re the furthest thing from a
knight that I’ve seen, Ryker Valentine. Now come make love to me.”

He swallowed and, without taking his eyes from her body,
removed the rest of his clothes and covered her from legs to chest. They were
still for a moment, hearts beating fast, bodies warming each other, his weight
balanced on his arms. He lowered his mouth to her neck and trailed kisses down
to the hollow at the base of her throat.

She tangled her fingers in his hair, luxuriating in the
feeling of the soft, black locks. His mouth moved across her neck to her ear
and nibbled on the lobe. She arched her back, and her nipples brushed his chest
like hot embers.

He rose up on his knees and let his kisses fall on her
shoulders and trail across her breastbone. She stirred restlessly beneath him,
her hands dancing over the rippling muscles of his back.

“More,” she breathed. “I want more.”

He took her wrists and pushed them above her head. With
one hand, he held her captive and dropped his lips to her breast. He sucked
gently, then more firmly when she moved beneath him. A low moan escaped her
lips.

Her hips were already moving rhythmically, an incessant
throb driving her against him. She needed pressure, already sought the release
of orgasm, but he looked up at her and shook his head.

“Oh no, not yet, sweetheart. I’m not through with you, not
by a long shot.”

He moved his body so he wasn’t touching her below the
waist and continued to torment her nipples, covering them with wide swaths of
his tongue, then licking and biting, just enough to send her jerking against
him, her hands over her head pushing back into the cool sheets.

She was hot and wet below, her legs rubbing together in a
slick motion. Smoothly, he transferred her wrists to his other hand and tickled
her skin from ribs to hips, sliding fingertips lower each time, up to her
breasts and then down until he had reached the top of her mound and tangled his
fingers in her dark hair.

Already on the edge of climax, Alix cried out when he
rested the palm of his hand against her clitoris. He did not rub or move, just
applied gentle pressure while she jerked beneath him. When she began to move
more quickly, her breath coming in little pants, he removed his hand and
laughed softly.

“So impatient, greedy little one.”

She lunged toward him, freeing her hands in a surge of
strength.

“My turn,” she said. She pushed him toward the bed,
turning his shoulders so she could roll on top of him. His penis jutted into
the air, a hard, hungry animal. She longed to climb on but restrained herself,
instead taking him in one hand and running her tongue up and down his length.

He groaned, and she took him in her mouth, sucking gently
and then with more force, taking him deep and then running her mouth around the
head, tasting the first bit of sweet, salty fluid that collected at the tip.

With strong, determined hands, he grabbed her under the
arms and pulled her up to face him.

“I learned my lesson last time,” he said. “There will be
no more of that. At least, not right now.”

She looped her legs around his waist and leaned back,
letting his hands run over her torso and caress her taut, aching nipples.
Imagining the rolling of the ocean, she rocked against him slowly, teasing
herself with the pressure against her clitoris.

Then she lowered herself down to rest against his penis,
the hard length of him landing at precisely the right spot. She rode against
him, sliding up and down his length until she was crying out with pleasure.

“Lord, woman.” He chuckled weakly, hands tight on her
waist. “I need to get a condom on before we do something really stupid.”

She rolled onto her back and watched him pull a foil
package from the bedside table. Her heart beat wildly, and panic started to
rise in her throat as he eased the condom into place.

She closed her eyes and felt his weight on her chest.

“Tell me now if you want to stop,” he whispered into her
neck.

In response, she opened her legs and thrust her hips
upward.

He groaned, and she felt him enter her slowly, just like
they’d done before. He pulled out, rubbed against her clitoris, eliciting a
deep moan and painful, throbbing response, and then gently thrust back inside,
a little farther this time.

The fear dissolved. This was right. Now, with this man.
She spread her legs wider and moved her hands down to his buttocks. When he
moved against her, she pushed him deeper inside while bringing her hips up
against him.

He thrust deeper, and she gasped. She was tight, almost
like she’d become a virgin all over again, yet having him inside left her needy
and hungry in a way she’d never experienced. She couldn’t help but tense, and
he must have sensed it, because he withdrew and substituted his finger for his
penis, tickled and stroked her clitoris until she was once again on the verge
of orgasm, and then slid his finger inside. He pressed up against the wall of
her vagina, and at the same time rocked her erect nub with his thumb.

She cried out and arched against him.

He moved his finger away and resumed his position on top.
Then he swallowed her nerves away with a deep, endless kiss that left her
unable to think about anything else.

“Look at me,” he whispered as he positioned himself
between her thighs.

She forced her eyes to open. He was staring at her, dark
chocolate eyes fathomless, full of emotion.
Trust me
, she felt him say.
I
will protect you.

Alix melted, all the reserve, the fear, and the tension
melting from her body. Unconsciously, her lids started to slide closed as her
legs fell open, and he slid into her.

“No, no, don’t shut your eyes,” he urged. “Stay with me.”

Mutely, she let his gaze envelope her and let all the
caring she saw there fill her.

“One…two…”

And then he was inside, and a cry escaped her lips. She
was full, fuller than she’d ever been before, and a wave of emotion caught in
her chest.

“Oh,” she moaned. “Yes. Yes.”

Cautiously, he began to move. In and out, now withdrawing
all the way and tickling her clitoris with his penis, now penetrating deeply.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and urged him to move harder, faster. She
gloried in the sensation, their bodies moving in unison, his hardness buried
inside her. They were one. It was nothing like she remembered. Sex in her youth
had been a slightly painful, hurried affair with a boy who grunted a few times
and then came. She had never been with a man. And certainly never a man like
Ryker.

“Now,” he murmured. “Together.”

She kept her eyes open, knowing what she wanted to see but
not imagining she would see it. But there it was—the moment of perfect
passion, the splitting of her soul in an orgasm that surely made the heavens
move. And he was with her, eyes half closed, arms clutched tightly around her.
She saw it in him, the love she wanted so desperately. They were one, and they
were made for each other. Their bodies knew it and so did their spirits.

She shook with release, cried out his name, and heard him
do the same. He pulsed inside her, his waves of pleasure enhancing hers,
bringing her back to her peak again, until finally, racked with shuddering,
uncontrollable joy, she was spent.

The fireworks faded, she lay her head in the crook of his
arm, and let herself drift off to sleep.

#

Ryker studied the woman sleeping peacefully at his side,
bathed in the soft pink light of early morning, and wondered just how violent
Gunther Hartcourt could really be. Would he have Ryker killed, simply tortured
a bit, or perhaps tortured and then killed?

He rolled onto his back, careful not to jolt her awake,
and silently smacked himself in the head. This would go down in history as the
dumbest thing he’d ever done. Dumber than the tattoo he’d had to have removed
when he started his modeling career. Dumber than the car he’d stolen when he’d
turned sixteen. Dumber, certainly, than the time he’d told his girlfriend he
had run out of condoms just so he could see what it felt to be truly naked,
from head to toe, when they had sex.

Luckily, his girlfriend had started her period two days
later. No repercussions there. But this time? Well, this time he didn’t see how
he could avoid it.

Alix rolled over and murmured something in her sleep. Her
cheeks were flushed, perfect pink roses blooming on her pale skin. The sheet
fell back, exposing her full breasts. A tiny bruise stood out above her areola.

He must have gotten carried away.

Ryker practically snorted at the thought. Carried away?
That was the understatement of the century.

Lifting the sheet just enough to expose his body, he
inched out of bed. He tasted bile in his throat, a sick combination of
anticipation, fear, and guilt. What would she say? What would she expect of
him? Or, to put it baldly, how big of a scene was she going to make?

He grabbed a shirt, pants, underwear, and headed
downstairs, head spinning. How could he have let it happen?

It had been an incredible night. He couldn’t deny that.
From the first moment he’d realized she was truly offering herself to him and
he’d imagined sliding deep inside her, he was lost. He could try to blame it on
Rosa or Maria, the anniversary of his mother’s death or two martinis in quick
succession on an empty stomach, but the truth was, it had simply been Alix.
Alix’s touch.

The memory of it started his cock tingling. He shook his
head and started to fill the coffeepot with water, hoping to distract himself
from the overpowering urge to march back upstairs and take her again, now, when
she was still sleepy and tousled.

He wanted her from behind, where he could pull her hips
hard against him.

He wanted her on their sides, her leg looped over his.

He wanted her standing up, her legs around his waist.

He wanted her on top so he could play with her nipples
while she rode him.

The coffeepot overflowed and ran onto the counter.
Hastily, he turned off the water. He had to get control.

Think, Ryker, think! What the hell are you going to say
to her?

He was spared the agony of his own thoughts by her appearance
at the door of the kitchen. She wore one of his T-shirts, and her nipples were
visible through the thin fabric. She looked hesitant. Vulnerable. Words froze
in his throat.

“Good morning,” she said and blushed.

His mouth gaped open, and he found himself unable to think
of anything,
anything at all
, to say.

She watched him for a moment and then turned away.
“Where’s the cereal?”

He motioned toward a cupboard. She pulled out a box of
bran flakes and put it on the table.

“Bowls?”

He motioned again, still stricken dumb and mute, and she
took down a bowl, grabbed the milk from the fridge, and pulled open a few
drawers until she found the silverware. Then she sat down at the table and
started to eat.

Finally, he cleared his throat and sat at the table beside
her. “Alix, about last night…”

She cocked her head. “Oh please,” she said. He couldn’t
tell if she sounded resigned, frustrated, or amused. Perhaps a little of each.
“Let’s not go there. We’ve got a long day ahead, and I, for one, don’t intend
to complicate it with heartfelt speeches. We can deal with that later. Now, how
about some coffee?”

Lena watched nervously as Alix and
Ryker murmured to each other in low tones. It was Sunday morning, and the
studio was quiet. They had sent any unnecessary crew members home. Soft music
played in the background. The air was cool, and goose bumps stood out on her
arms.

She was naked except for the tiny scrap of a thong she’d
insisted on wearing. It was absurd, of course, but she liked to maintain the
illusion that she and Jake weren’t screwing every night like bunnies, her eyes
tightly closed, his open and seeking—or so she assumed.

She couldn’t close her eyes today. Today, the cameras
would be rolling. Today, she’d have to look.

“Don’t be nervous,” Jake whispered. “You’ll be great. I
know it.”

She ignored him, like she ignored all the endearments he
whispered in her ear before they fell asleep. Part of her wanted to believe
him, wanted it so bad it was like an ache in her chest. But another part of her
still couldn’t let go of what had happened so many years ago. She was so
terrified she’d get hurt again, she couldn’t believe that things had really
changed.

Which was ridiculous, really, because in the past few
weeks, it seemed that everything had changed. When it came to acting, Lena had
learned she wasn’t so bad after all. She’d actually started to trust her
instincts, throw herself deeply into her character and stop worrying about what
the audience might think. She learned Jake Redburn had grown up since they’d
first been lovers. When something went wrong on the set, he took
responsibility. When she was tired, he took care of her, rubbed her feet,
brought her salad with a few indulgent slices of good cheese.