More Than Friends (The Warriors) (15 page)

She felt his hands urging her even closer. She became pliant, eagerly accommodating his simplest touch. His tongue ravaged the hills and hollows beyond her teeth. She responded in kind, taking her fill of his unique taste and stabbing teasingly at the interior of his mouth until he captured the tip of her tongue with his teeth. She welcomed her captivity as she absorbed the frantic pace of his heartbeat. And as the heat of his skin burned her breasts, she grasped that she was finally experiencing the truth of his hunger for her.

Leah twisted in his arms, her nipples tingling and stiffening as she shifted back and forth against the pelt of dark hair that covered his chest and belly. She felt herself melting inside, felt herself turning into a seething mass of need that knew no beginning and desired no ending to the joy—the sense of utter completeness—she found in his arms.

He whispered her name, worshipping her with his low, rough voice even as he left a trail of incendiary blessings across her body with his tantalizing fingers. Brett filled his hands with her breasts, molding his fingers over her and measuring the fullness and weight of her warm flesh.

Her breath caught, suspended in her throat until she gasped for air. She felt the tremors that made his fingers tighten over her flesh, and she whimpered her pleasure into his mouth. Relief submerged her at his possessive touch, bringing with it overwhelming emotions and tears that threatened to blind her. A strangled sound escaped her as she choked back her tears. He drank in the salt–tinged sound even as he settled her back against the pillow with gentle hands and a tender look in his troubled eyes.

She reached for him, frantic at the thought of being deprived of the taste and feel of him. She skimmed her fingertips across his chest, branding him with her touch, lightly scoring the flat nipples hidden in his chest hair. His powerful body shuddered. Leah sensed his struggle for self–control, and she felt compelled to make it snap once and for all. She needed to prove to him that they were right for each other.

He seized her hands, pressing hot kisses into her palms before pushing them aside. Sprawled on her back, her long hair a cloud of golden silk around her face and across her shoulders, she trembled with need as her legs shifted restlessly and her hips undulated beneath the hand that stroked her abdomen and upper thighs. Her legs separated of their own accord, her desire for him clearly visible in the stark hunger etched into her features, her trembling body, and her uneven breathing.

Smiling at her, Brett leaned down and wet her lips with the trailing tip of his tongue. She shivered, her love for him a consuming thing. She whispered a silent prayer that he truly understood the powerful feelings he stirred within her.

Running his fingertips from the delicate pulse in the hollow at her throat, down across her swollen breasts and taut nipples, and then over the soft curve of her belly, he soothed and aroused her until she thought she might go mad from the pleasure.

"Relax, Leah. Just let me love you."

She nodded, her lower lip caught between her teeth, her breathing ragged, and her aquamarine eyes glittering with desire. She held her breath, waiting, wondering what he intended. Watching him, she couldn’t imagine sharing this kind of intimacy with any other man. She couldn’t imagine ever even wanting another man.

Brett was, she realized in a flash of lucidity, the perfect mate for her heart. She despaired that he might never realize it, and she silently vowed that she would find a way to persuade him that they belonged together.

Bending over her, he cupped her breasts in his hands. He leaned down, took one of her nipples into his mouth, and tenderly nipped at it with his teeth. Air gushed out of her as Leah arched into his mouth, wanting more, wanting anything and everything he felt inclined to give as the tension inside her steadily mounted. She gripped his shoulders, moaning brokenly.

He moved back and forth between her breasts, feeding on her like a starving man. As he suckled, he sent torrents of desire careening through her body, and she lost track of time. She lost all awareness of anything but Brett as he relentlessly stoked the flames of her desire into an inferno. She felt the threat of incineration. And she even welcomed it.

As he crouched over her, she groaned her pleasure, her nerve endings glittering. Low in her belly, heat and tension and abject need coiled tighter and tighter. She trembled. Her heart raced. She breathed in quick, shallow pants, his name spilling repeatedly past her lips. She shifted soon after, restless beneath his hands, growing more and more mindless as her body quested for release.

Brett slid his fingers beneath the lace edge of her bikini panties, delving suddenly, deeply into her wet heat with two fingers. Her hips came up off the bed, her cry of pleasure raw as her body adjusted to his intrusion. Her flesh quivered and wept in response to his touch, drenching him with her essence.

Quickly stripping the bit of lace from her hips, Brett moved lower, parted her thighs, and covered her with his mouth. He held her still as he explored the soft, damp folds and the taut nub secreted behind the golden silk that shielded her sex.

Tension vibrated through her entire body. She cried out, certain she’d just been hurled into the center of a sensual storm unlike anything she’d ever before experienced. Her hips moved in counterpoint to his skillful tongue and lips. She died a little—a seemingly endless series of glorious little deaths—each time he dipped his fingers into the hot, wet recesses of her body, and again each time his tongue circled and then stroked her now quaking flesh.

With the pressure inside of her threatening to reach flashpoint, Leah gasped, "I want you… inside… me."

Brett paused, drew in enough air to fill his lungs, and then he simply intensified his sensual torment. His tongue swept back and forth across her tender flesh at an increased pace even as he quickened the thrusting of his long, narrow fingers into the depths of her body.

The impact of his erotic assault sent charged currents into every part of Leah’s trembling body. Feeling electrified by the sensations suffusing her, she gripped the bedding, her back and legs stiffening with tension.

Her emotions seemed to turn on a dime when she finally sensed his restraint. She fought Brett in earnest then, instinct and need prompting her to try to slow him down and draw him up and into her body. She wanted—
needed
—him inside of her. She wanted to feel his hard strength as he penetrated her body. She wanted to love him completely, not just be the recipient of his skill as a lover.

He thrust his fingers even deeper. Leah resisted the tantalizing power of his touch, trying to wrench free of him, her teeth gritted and her head thrown back as wave after wave of splintering ecstasy threatened a total breach of her defenses. His single–minded determination almost seemed to mock her. Her resistance to the inevitable steadily waned. She felt it the instant she began to lose her battle for the climax she wanted to experience with him buried to the hilt inside of her once their bodies were joined.

"Let go, Leah. Don’t fight me. Don’t fight your feelings," he urged, his voice gritty, intense, challenging. "You need this, so let go. Let me love you."

"No!" she cried even as his words defeated her and triggered her response. "Not… yet."

Leah felt her orgasm detonate with violence and without warning, contracting deep inside her body, sweeping her up, tearing her apart, and then catapulting her into world of sensory wonder. She called out his name until she grew hoarse. Tears crept from her closed eyes as a firestorm blazed across her senses and her body imploded in slow motion.

Burning with need, Brett held Leah throughout her shattering journey. Despite the cost to himself, he denied his emotions and his body the joy he knew he would find in and with her. He snugged his arms around her hips and pressed his cheek to her pelvis, holding on to her with every bit of his strength. He absorbed the stunning burst of her climax and the powerful aftershocks that quivered through her, and he listened to the broken sound of the sobbing breaths she took.

His heart thundered in his chest as he fought for the control he needed not to take Leah and plunge into her sweet, hot depths. His sex, still pulsing with need, felt a heartbeat from exploding, and rivers of molten desire seared his veins.

Brett exhaled, summoned his strength, forced himself up to a position at her side, and gently gathered her against him. He felt profound relief that Leah came willingly into his arms, but he silently cursed himself for making her weep. He knew her tears had been born of her frustration with his denial of his own need.

He didn’t blame her for her last–minute struggle against him. She’d wanted their bodies merged for a shared climax. He craved the same, just as he craved a life with her, his thoughts and senses focused even now on what it would have been like to be sheathed by her wet heat, her arms around him, and her legs circling his hips as they shared the same breath, the same heartbeat. He shuddered, his fantasies about reaching fruition with Leah pure torture. His flesh throbbed, his soul felt mortally wounded, and his heart ached for what might have been had Fate been a less cruel mistress.

He trembled beneath her fingers as they roamed over his back and chest. She tugged free of him without warning and curved her hand over his erection. The air in his lungs stilled. Although clad in trousers and briefs, his clothing provided little protection against the arousal that still streaked fire through his body. Leah was both purveyor and symbol of that fire. She was his ultra–sensual fire goddess.

"Why?" she whispered, the single word rife with disappointment. She stroked him, her fingertips skimming up and down the hard length of flesh until he thought he might go insane. "Why, Brett?"

He jerked beneath her evocative touch, hungering for her with a physical and emotional need that only she could satisfy. Trying to find a way to answer her question, Brett discovered that neither his conscience nor his integrity offered solace or assistance.

"I can feel how much you want me." She lifted her head to peer up at him.

He saw her confusion. He took her hand and raised it to his lips. Pressing a kiss into her palm, he admitted in a strained voice, "I do want you, more than anything in the world, but you deserve to be protected."

She looked blankly at him for a long moment, but understanding soon dawned in her eyes. "There are other ways. You need…"

"I can wait."

"But I want to…"

He gathered her even closer. "Go to sleep. You’re exhausted."

A soft laugh escaped her. "And whose fault is that?"

"Guilty as charged, ma’am."

She sighed, tucked her head beneath his chin, and closed her eyes. "We’ll stop at a store tomorrow."

He held her then, aware that he could correct her misinterpretation if he wanted to. But he didn’t.

He didn’t tell her that he had condoms or that he would have used them to protect her, because he never intended for her to face another unplanned pregnancy on her own. With or without her understanding, he also intended to protect her from himself.

Brett chalked up yet another lie to his already tattered conscience, leaned back, and closed his eyes. With Leah cradled against his body, he told himself yet again that he was content simply to care for her when she was vulnerable, but his body and the desire still raging through it made a liar out of him.

After holding her for several hours while she slept, he left her shortly after dawn to shower, shave, and dress in warm clothing suitable for the inclement weather still buffeting the Pacific Northwest coastline.

He paused beside Leah’s bed, placing a hastily scrawled note on the night table to explain his absence if she wakened while he was gone. His fingers trembled as he nudged aside the thick strands of golden hair that had fallen across her cheek. He froze when she turned her face into his touch. She sighed softly in her sleep, her warm breath washing across his hand. He covered her exposed shoulders with the edge of the comforter before he stepped back.

Retrieving his weapon, he exited their room, locking the door securely behind him as he glanced up and down the corridor to make certain that no one observed his movements. He forced his thoughts from Leah to the day ahead as he conducted a thorough inspection of the lodge’s oceanfront property. Then, he made the decision that they would linger for another day and night at the Seaside Lodge. A selfish decision, he knew, but he needed just a little more time with Leah—time to acquire a few more memories for what would certainly be a solitary future.

As he strode the resort property, he found no sign of the pick–up truck that had followed them the previous day. Neither did he see any hint of surveillance being conducted. After stopping in the restaurant for a cup of coffee, he persuaded the lodge’s owner to open the gift shop earlier than usual.

Confident that Leah would resent being confined all day in their room, Brett purchased warm, waterproof down jackets and knit caps to offset the cold temperatures and drizzly rain. He intended to use the weather as an excuse for donning the heavy outerwear, although his true motive was to shield Leah’s distinctive mane of golden hair from further notice. After calling Washington for an update and learning of Micah’s progress in the capture of several additional members of the targeted terrorist faction, he ordered a picnic brunch basket and requested that it be delivered by room service.

Brett heard the shower running when he returned to their room. He set aside his purchases, added logs to the low fire still burning in the fireplace, and opened one of the containers of coffee he’d brought back to the room.

Standing in front of the fireplace, his expression reflective, he watched the jets of flame consume the newly placed logs. His thoughts turned yet again to the stunning volatility of Leah’s passion. His eyes closed, and his body re–ignited with unresolved hunger for her.

A short while later he looked up from the blazing logs to see her emerge from the bathroom. Clad in jeans and a body–hugging turtleneck and with her hair wrapped in a towel, she smiled shyly and accepted the coffee he handed to her.