Hero Unmasked: 3 (Heroes of Saturn) (10 page)

“Not fair. Not fair.” Damn the man. She needed to come now.

“What’s not fair is you melting around me. I bet you’re like hot syrup, and those little squeezes are divine.”

So was the massage of his fingertips around her clit. He alternated between the pulsing bud and the area stretched around his shuttling cock.

Oh yeah? Two could play this game.

In slow increments she eased her hand into the snow gracing the ledge and turned up the sex-kitten coos and appreciative moans. When her hand tingled with the cold, she reached between her legs and cupped his tight sac. The heated flesh seared her palm as he shouted and shoved hard inside her.

“You little witch. You want to test me? Then reap what you sow.”

Cam’s hands at her hips were the only thing keeping her upright as his pelvis worked at a frantic speed, lifting her to her toes with each thrust.

Propriety was officially shot to hell as her body rejoiced in the brutal claiming. If the neighbors were to hear her screams or see her receiving the fucking of her life? Who cared? Let the house catch fire or all the pipes burst, she really couldn’t give a rat’s ass. He might as well have tossed her out the window and into the knee-deep snow bank. The shock to the system would have been just as intense.

Every nerve was alive. Her lungs burned as she dragged in deep mouthfuls of frigid air that exploded out again in a scream. The world dropped away and her vision clouded as she soared. Her only tether to consciousness was Cam’s grip around her waist and his own cries of release in her ear.

Nearby the trees shook, falls of snow cascaded off the weighted limbs as his bellows echoed in the distance.

His knees buckled and he dragged her to the floor to sprawl across him. Under her back his muscles jumped and twitched and his chest heaved with his ragged breathing, which delighted her to no end. Cam was the strongest man on the planet, and she wore him out. Little ole Fiona Corrione went toe-to-toe with an out-of-this-world lover and brought him to his knees.

“Is that,” she paused to clear her throat, “all you’ve got, space boy?”

“You want more? Give me five seconds and I’ll…still be right here.” His arms came around her and she felt the press of his lips against her hair. “You amaze me, woman. With sex like that, I’ll be on your doorstep every night when you return from work.”

Crap, why did he have to bring up the future now?

Yes, tomorrow would come. And of course she wanted to see him again. She’d be stupid not to crave his affections after experiencing world-altering sex. But what type of relationship were they developing? Friends with benefits? Boyfriend-girlfriend? And what about the Chameleon’s responsibilities to the public? How did she fit in with the implied obligations he had with the people?

All those questions, and the ones she was certain she hadn’t thought of yet, had to be answered, immediately. Soon. Well, not that day, but definitely in the near future.

“How do you have the energy to think?”

His groaned question startled her from the dark turn of her thoughts. “Don’t eavesdrop on my brain.”

“I’m not. I’ve noticed you grow unearthly quiet when thinking. You should be soft and sated, not tense with uncertainty. Did I do something wrong?”

She tilted her head to place a kiss on his lips. “You’re perfect. Well, almost. If only you were able to produce hot water, then you’d be perfect.”

The power came back to the house with a swell of energy as the appliances hummed as if they were charging up a hill. Lights she had forgotten she left on blinded her with their glow as she struggled to a stand and reached for a blanket dangling over the back of the couch to cover her nakedness.

Cam stood at a more languid speed, his limbs flowing in a graceful wave that spoke of his confidence and was oh so sexy. “I’d like to take credit for this, but I don’t have that power. However, I can draw you a hot bath once the water tank refills.”

“Will you join me?” Would he finally remove the cowl and let her run her fingers through his hair?

“While you’re relaxing, I’ll make us dinner. I want to pamper you this evening.”

He wasn’t going to take off the hood. Boo. He wasn’t rushing off at first light. Yay. A small yay, but she’d take whatever he had to offer.

“I hope this pampering involves a massage.”

He pulled her into an embrace. “When I’m done, there won’t be an inch of you that is not branded by me.”

Her head fell back to allow him unimpeded access to kiss her neck. To their right, the open window framed the mountain and the chain of lights that sparked as power was restored to the rest of the neighborhood. With each yellow flicker her throat tightened and her fingers wanted to curl into his thick biceps and never let go.

The fantasy was coming to an end. For all she knew this was to be their last night together. Oh sure, he said he wanted to see her again, but that was when they were isolated from reality and riding a constant high of orgasms. In the bright light of day all the warm fuzzies currently coursing through his veins could disappear as quickly as the snow melting outside. Look what happened in the movie
Speed
. All that great chemistry between Jack and Annie yet Keanu didn’t bother to show up for the sequel. Then again, no one should have shown up for that movie.

If this night was all she had left with him, she wasn’t going to waste a second. With a deep breath she went on tiptoe and sealed her lips to his, conveying all the affection she felt for him into her kiss and hoped when morning came, Cam knew her heart belonged to him.

“You’re looking quite chipper for being elbow-deep in spoiled cream,” Aunt Bridget said as she leaned against the open door of the walk-in refrigerator. “Please tell me you waited until daylight before coming in this morning.”

“The sun was up long before I was,” Fiona replied with a roll of her eyes.

Well, technically the sun had been up when she left the house, but Cam had woken her up extra early with open-mouthed kisses spread over her breast. Never before had she had such difficulty leaving a warm bed. Only their sense of duty, her to her employees and his to the people, nudged them out of her comfy home.

“Then what has you smiling like you discovered a way to eat chocolate cake without consuming the calories? I know it’s not joy from cleaning up this mess.”

“What’s with the questions? We’re alive, we survived the storm relatively intact and I have insurance. Isn’t that enough?”

Bridget huffed and dragged over a second garbage can. “That’s it? I thought it was something juicy, like you met a man.”

She lifted a crate of questionable-quality eggs in front of her face to cover her burning cheeks and tossed them in the trash. “In a snowstorm? Really, Auntie, you read too many books.”

“I’m optimistic. I bet you stayed indoors the entire week and didn’t once go out to play in the snow. At least I got out a little.”

“Yeah, I heard,” oops,
she
hadn’t heard, Cam had, “nothing from you, you know, with the battery dying on my phone and all. What mischief did you get into?”

“Who says it was mischief?”

“Was there whiskey involved?”

Her aunt opened her mouth then snapped it shut. She took a sudden great interest in her fingernails. “Maybe.”

“Were the authorities called?”

“No, but Officer Dhavin did stop by. He was checking on everyone in the neighborhood. Once he saw we were fine and dandy, he left us with a jaunty wave.”

“Who were you with?”

“Mr. Hendrix, Eliza and the Dursthams. We were having a lovely time until Clive suggested we play strip poker and shucked his clothes before the cards were even shuffled. Nothing kills a party faster than a pair of old-man balls spotlighted with a flashlight.”

A carton of milk dropped from Fiona’s hand as she burst out laughing. “Eww. I need bleach for my brain. Good Lord, woman.”

“I suppose when he was younger, he might have been the stud, but I tell you, he did nothing for me. I think Eliza would have taken him up on his offer, but she’s so shy.”

“And eighty.” Did she really need to point out that fact?

“So what? Old people like sex too. Just not as often. Anyway, I guess it was a good thing you didn’t venture outdoors. I ran into Mrs. Miller at the gas station and she thought there might be crazed animals in your neighborhood. She said some wild beasts were fornicating rather loudly last night. Frightened her to tears, she said.”

Thank goodness for the cool interior of the refrigerator calming the race of heat scorching her face. So, her screaming orgasms sounded like a wild beast, huh? Lovely.

Fiona shut the refrigerator door and began to drag the garbage cans toward the back door. “I guess I had my earbuds up too loud to hear anything. Sounds like it was quite something. Anyway, it looks like we only lost the milk, cream and eggs. I called around and Hogan’s is expecting a dairy shipment at one this afternoon. I’ll head out there and be the first in line. If all goes well, we can prep tonight and open first thing tomorrow.”

“Good, good. It will be nice to return to normal.”

Was a return to normal even possible? If normal meant nights without Cam, then the answer was no, which scared the bejesus out of her. After only knowing him a week, the thought of not seeing him every day left her as cold as an icicle.

What happened to her? She was a modern, independent woman who did not need to be joined at the hip to a man, however being joined to Cam at any point of the body was not an unpleasant thing.

Their relationship, if a week of hot sex counted as a relationship, was new and the excitement that came with the newness was addicting. She only hoped that once daily life commenced, the need to know what he was doing, where he was and counting the minutes until she could see him again would fade away. She just had to be patient and keep her perspective. Like the craving for a chocolate caramel bonbon when you just ate one. Drink a glass of water and wait thirty minutes and the feeling would pass. Work. Lots and lots of work was the cure for puppy love.

Fiona pulled the hood of her coat over her head and leapt across the small river flowing down the alley. Mother Nature’s follow-up to the blizzard and wind was a rapid snow melt that turned the streets of Cedar into the canals of Venice. And to think, it was only December. No one would be dry for another four months.

The trip to Hogan’s Market was like trying to figure out a life-sized maze. Where she’d normally turn right, she was forced left by a fallen tree. A few more blocks down the road and a flooded storm drain made her change direction again. After twenty minutes and traveling a grand total of one mile, she was almost ready to call it a day and try again in the morning. Almost. The storm had already taken a major hit to her business, she refused to let it take any more.

She took the fourth detour and shouted in victory as an empty stretch of roadway lay before her like a gray piece of taffy. Triumph was short-lived after she rounded the bend and was stopped by an officer blocking the road and motioning for her to stop.

She rolled down her window as he approached. “Hold up for one second, ma’am. We have some debris we need to clear that might come across the road. Won’t take but a minute.”

“Sure. No problem.” She peered over his shoulder and laughed. “That’s an entire tree. I think this is going to take longer than a minute.”

His jovial chuckle joined hers. “Normally, yes, but the Chameleon is here to assist. You’re welcome to turn around, if you wish.”

“No.” The word came out breathy. “No. I can wait. Maybe even stretch my legs a little.”

“Right.” He shook his head with a rueful smile that told her he knew exactly what she was thinking. “Just keep out of the way, ma’am.”

“Of course.”

The wind kicked up as she stepped out of the car and whipped the loose ends of her ponytail into her eyes. She brushed the strands away and her jaw dropped when she spotted Cam a few yards away in the midst of man and chainsaws.

The hard set of his lips pinched tight with strain as he held up the trunk of a hundred-foot Douglas fir. Only the strength of his arms prevented the bulky tree from sliding into the entry of the home that caught the brunt of the collision. An axman slashed the extraneous limbs away with a roaring chainsaw, whittling the mass to a more manageable size.

When the axman gave the all clear, Cam hoisted the trunk over his head and set it down alongside the road like a weightlifter dropping a loaded barbell. He brushed his palms together and looked up, catching her eye.

Before she thought better of it, she waved her hand with the enthusiasm of a groupie and felt her cold cheeks bunch in a grin.

Cam nodded, his mouth formed a slight grin that was exceedingly polite for a man who had kissed her most intimate areas just that morning. With a small salute he dismissed her with a turn of his back.

The chilly response slapped her in the face like an arctic gale. Her glove felt as if it were weighted with rocks and dropped heavily at her side. She hadn’t expected him to bound across the street and greet her with a big smooch, but he could have at least smiled as if he was glad to see her or send her a wink.

She tried not to feel as if he’d punched her in the heart. They’d never discussed what they’d do if they ran into each other in public, so she couldn’t blame him for the slight. At least, that’s what she tried to rationalize as she squared her shoulders and fought back visions of revenge. She was an adult and possessed the maturity to behave like one.

Then she noticed Cam talking to the sheriff.

The breeze played with the strands of blonde hair that escaped the sheriff’s braid, and Cam smiled that smile Fiona thought was just for her as he smoothed the lock back into place. His fingers lingered along her cheek for longer than was professionally acceptable.

The sheriff knocked his hand away, but the corner of her lips twitched and she batted her lashes in a silent message Fiona took to mean,
I like when you touch me, but not now
.

What. The. Hell?

Fiona fell back, dropping into the driver’s seat before her knees gave out. No way did she just witness Cam flirting with the sheriff. A very married sheriff whose husband was a fine-looking man in his own right and was probably one of the only people Fiona knew who could challenge Cam in a fight and possibly win. No. The sheriff would not be so foolish as to jeopardize her marriage.

The deep husky tones of Cam’s laughter brought her gaze back to the pair, much to her chagrin. The sheriff was gesturing off into the distance, then placed her hand on his arm. Did she just caress his biceps!

Fiona shut her eyes and willed the gathering tears to go away. She was not going to cry over a man. Never.

Yet as the mantra repeated in her mind, she felt her chest constrict and a salty taste gather on the back of her tongue.

A knock at her window brought her out of her mental pep talk with a startled squeal.

The officer held up his hand. “Sorry, ma’am. Didn’t mean to frighten you. You can proceed now.”

She nodded, too choked up to risk speaking. One wrong move and she felt ready to break into a million pieces.

Argh! This wretched feeling was so stupid. What she and Cam had was a fling. That was all. Deep down she knew that was all they were going to have when she first allowed him through her door. He was the frickin’ Chameleon for Pete’s sake. And she was…well, her.

But the fantasy. Oh, the fantasy had been so good. Of course she wouldn’t want it to end. What sane woman would?

Well, the bubble was officially burst now. The eggs had been cracked and nothing could be done to put Humpty back together again. For a smart woman like her, the best course of action was to move on. Good thing this happened now before she did something über-stupid, like fall in love with him.

She sniffed and looked around the interior of the car. Damn it, where was a crate of tissues when she needed one?

Aunt Bridget would have a coronary if she knew Fiona’s thoughts. “Giving up so soon, lass?” she’d say. “Where’s your fighting spirit?”

The spirit evaporated the moment he turned his back and cuddled up to the sheriff. And right in her field of vision no less! No way was she going to even contemplate a relationship with a man she couldn’t trust.

But she had trusted him, and that’s what stung the most. Cam coaxed truths from her she never shared with anyone. Now that connection was gone and she felt the loss as surely as if he cut off her mixing arm.

No, no, no. She swiped at her cheek at the lone tear that escaped and glared at her hangdog reflection in the rearview mirror.

You will not cry over a man. Never.

Never, she repeated during the rest of the day every time her vision blurred and her eyes stung. When the urge to curl into a ball in the middle of the kitchen struck, she plunged her hands in too-hot water, or scrubbed the front counter until the tiles glowed. In the middle of the afternoon, it was an innocent batch of cinnamon rolls that paid the price of her repressed anger.

“What did that dough ever do to you?” Bridget asked as the sound of dough hitting wood echoed around the kitchen.

“It’s my favorite part,” she muttered as an excuse and imagined the mass of flour and butter was a miniature version of the Chameleon. She lifted the dough over her shoulder and threw it down on the butcher block table with a satisfying grunt.

“Not too hard, dear. We want tender rolls, not rocks.”

Rocks would be good. A good pile of rocks the size of softballs that were perfect for throwing.

No. You will not think about that man.

Thwak.
Just.
Thwak.
Don’t.
Thwak
. Think.

The sky turned dark and Bridget had long gone home while Fiona continued to work, dusting and scrubbing until the shop sparkled brighter than it had since move-in day, probably even more. Every time she thought about calling it a day and heading home, her throat closed up and her stomach rolled. Memories of Cam were branded in every room and every surface of her home. There wasn’t a spot that didn’t remind her of what she once held in her hands. Perhaps it was delusional to think that Cam could ever be hers. But for a few days he had been.

Whoever said memories kept one’s bed warm should be punched in the throat to prevent such silliness to be spouted again.

There was a couch in her office. It wasn’t the most comfortable piece of furniture, but would be more than adequate if it meant staying away from home for a while.

“Ugh!” Fiona shouted and slammed the office door shut. The loud crack sounded so good she whipped the door opened and slammed it again.

What happened to not giving that loser a second thought? As if he had a clue as to the turmoil that had rolled through her all day. He was probably out flirting with every woman in town while playing superhero and here she was contemplating sleeping on a lumpy sofa because of a little heartache.