Only for You (13 page)

*   *   *

Maybe you think it’ll mean more than just a few fucks, and that’s why you’re balking?

Her voice kept replaying in his head, taunting him. His head started to throb with it. His cock had been intermittently throbbing with something altogether different, and even more incendiary.

Damn. The fact of the matter was, he had sensed it was something more than just a few fucks on that night two years ago.
That’s
the truth he was guarding himself against. And Gia had guessed that.

He glanced sideways for the hundredth time in the past several hours at her still form. She said she’d withheld the truth from him about her age and about her profession because she’d wanted him. Plain and simple.

For once, while she slept, he raised the barricades on his memories. He recalled in graphic detail how good it had been with her. She’d been so sweet and generous, letting him devour her, and clearly loving it. He knew he was very demanding in bed. He knew what he liked and wasn’t afraid to voice it. Gia had been right there with him, even though he’d been more demanding and challenging with her than he had been with some long-term lovers.

More
insistent, because his lust had never been as sharp as it had been for that fresh, beautiful young woman with a smile that pierced straight through him.

That
still
pierced.

He’d grown hard again. He hadn’t bargained on how brutal the impact would be when he combined memories of that night with Gia’s nearness to him in the vehicle. Even though he’d drunk two large bottles of water since that kiss, her taste still seemed to linger on his tongue.

He winced and glanced aside again at Gia’s silent form. The forbidden image of making love to her that first time flamed into his head, her fascinated gaze and vividly red cheeks in the mirrored reflections as she observed him watching, as his cock had plunged in and out of her. He’d always been a very visual person. It was part of who he was, a characteristic reflected in his near-photographic memory, his career, his aesthetics, his sexual preferences. Some women found it offensive that he liked to watch lovemaking. He understood that they might feel objectified by it, but that was never his intention. He’d learned to tone it down, depending upon his lover’s temperament.

But Gia had liked watching them together, almost as much as he had.

She’d liked a lot of things.

Blood pulsed into his cock.

He checked the rearview mirror. The highway had been mostly desolate. He’d taken Historic Route 66 intermittently because he thought Gia might like it, but he also knew that it would expose any followers more quickly than a busy interstate might. If he had to guess, he’d say their mission thus far had been successful. One of the most recognized faces in the country had vanished off the map. He felt safer about switching to the major highway in Amarillo, which would be soon.

Making sure Gia was still turned away, he tried to shift his aching cock to a more comfortable position. If she woke up anytime soon, he doubted he could hide his arousal from her. He was hard as a stone, the rigid column of his cock pressed against his jeans at a slanted vertical angle along his pelvis and lower belly. The outline of it was obvious in his jeans. He managed to shift it, but the stimulation didn’t help matters. Gia moved restlessly.

He grimaced, experiencing quiet, simmering agony. So
this
is what the road to hell looked like.

*   *   *

“Gia.”

She opened her eyes, immediately recognizing Seth’s voice. The car was dark and stationary. In the distance, she saw the glow of neon lights. She spun around in the seat. Seth was watching her, his face tense, long legs bent directly in front of the seat, his wrists draped over the wheel.

“Where are we?” she mumbled, starting to sit up. She looked behind her and saw a large gas station–convenience store in the distance. As she turned back to him, he quickly dropped his arms to his thighs.

“Outside of Amarillo, Texas. It’s two in the morning. I need a break.”

“Okay,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “I should go too.”

“Okay. But do you think you could get yourself together while I go ahead inside? The gas station looks deserted. You shouldn’t have much of an audience.”

She blinked in surprise at his quiet, pressured tone. He must really need to go.

“Sure. The wig won’t be a problem, but I’m going to take off the binder. I’ll put on my jacket,” she said quickly when he looked doubtful.

He nodded, although discomfort shadowed his face. “It’ll do for now. Don’t forget to do your lips and put on the powder.”

He got out of the car. Her brow crinkled in confusion as she watched him in the rearview mirror walk toward the entrance, his quick acquiescence to her disguise shortcut striking her as odd indeed. He usually had a sexy, loose-hipped saunter, but his long, lean form looked especially stiff at the moment. Poor man. She suddenly was very regretful for being so confrontational with him earlier. His muscles must be starting to seize up on him. He’d driven for nearly sixteen hours straight. She would insist on driving when he returned so that he could stretch out. This time, she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

She got on the wig without mishap and quickly reapplied her makeup. The finished result wasn’t as good as when Seth did it, but it was sufficient for a dark night and nearly empty gas station. She put on her sunglasses. If she looked a little more hermaphroditic than when Seth took charge of her disguise, Gia doubted it would matter here. One thing was certain: She
didn’t
look like Gia Harris. She shrugged out of the hated binder and found her jacket in the backseat. She also spotted the toiletry kit Seth had packed and grabbed it. She longed to brush her teeth. Flinging open her door, she got out of the SUV to join Seth inside.

*   *   *

He couldn’t take it anymore. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and Seth was ready to break apart from acute desperation at that moment.

Desperate, nagging, biting arousal.

He couldn’t get back in the close quarters of that vehicle with Gia with his ponderous erection harassing him every fucking second.

He stood in the closed bathroom stall facing the door and unfastened his jeans hastily. Not bothering to remove his underwear, he pulled his heavy erection through the slit in his boxer briefs, wincing as he cupped his balls and lifted them out as well. Furious at his inability to control his arousal, he slapped irritably at the jutting stalk, but even that stimulation excited him. He’d never felt so sensitive, his nerves leaping with excitement. The last several hours in that SUV inhaling Gia’s scent had been a living torture. He needed relief.

He craved
her.

Gia wanted to give in to it. He’d never wanted to submit to his need more in this life. He suspected what Gia had said was true though. Once he surrendered, instinct told him he might not be able to leave her without regret.

None of that mattered. Not now. He parted his thighs, taking a firm stance. He fisted himself and began to pump midstaff to just below the swollen head, single-minded and greedy. Only his need to empty himself of this painful craving counted. He closed his eyes and gripped onto the top of the door with his left hand, vivid memories bombarding him: holding Gia naked against him while he sucked on her beautiful breasts, of laying her on that couch and driving into her tight, sweet body while she stared up at him with helpless arousal.

Of course
he’d have her again eventually, he thought wildly as he jacked his cock faster and faster, feeling that inevitable truth rising in him as surely as his impending, explosive climax. Could any man hold out with such a bounty of sexy, hot sweetness taunting him at every turn?

*   *   *

Inside the gas station, Gia passed a sleepy-looking attendant and found the corridor in the back leading to the bathrooms. Figuring Seth was in the men’s room, and seeing not a single female—or anyone—in sight, she ducked into the women’s. She exited several minutes later, assuming Seth would either be out in the car or getting gas. Walking out to the SUV in the back parking lot, she realized he still wasn’t there though. She turned back around and backtracked, thinking she could help him carry the snacks and beverages. The attendant must have been in the back room, because she didn’t see him behind the counter. She started to get a couple bottles of water when she noticed the toiletry bag in her hand.

Maybe Seth wanted to use it?

A moment later, she walked down the corridor that led to the bathrooms again. It suddenly struck her that she was treading very quietly as she approached the men’s room. What was she thinking? Seth had told her he thought she should use the men’s room on the trip. But she couldn’t go in there while
he
was in there, boy disguise or no. She was being ridiculous.

Yet she drew closer to the wooden door, the skin of her neck and forearms roughened with awareness. Maybe he wasn’t even in there? He could have been in a part of the large store where she couldn’t spot him? Somehow, though, she didn’t think so. He was
in
there. She was always very aware of him, but that awareness at the moment seemed to swell and vibrate.

Very softly, she opened the swinging bathroom door. She immediately recognized his black leather work boots in a stall. No one else was in there. She ducked back hastily, but halted her exit just as abruptly. He wasn’t back in the stall, as if he were using the toilet. Instead, he stood close to the stall door, feet forward. Then she noticed his large hand—along with the signature silver ring—gripping the stall door at the top.

As if in a trance, she entered the large lavatory and closed the door silently behind her.

Her heart started racing in her chest. Adrenaline poured into her veins, causing her flesh to tingle. For an eternal second, she remained unmoving. Then she heard a rough, muted groan, and she was moving toward him as if in a dream.

The crack between the stall door and the metal surround wasn’t large, perhaps a quarter of an inch. It was enough for a voyeur—which is what Gia had apparently transformed into in the past few seconds. Of course, she’d guessed what he was doing in there. She’d witnessed his mounting tension. Felt it . . . Shared it . . .

Despite her suspicion, when she saw the fast, pistonlike motion of his arm through the crack, an electrical shock seemed to go through her body. It was enough to mainline a jolt of arousal straight through her. Seth was a very powerful man. To witness him using all his innate force, to sense the tight coil of his arousal unraveling in a frenzy of raw need, was the most forbidden, thrilling thing she’d ever seen.

His pumping grew even faster. She heard him hiss furiously. His hand clenched the top of the door tighter. She stepped closer. Her mind and body had gone tight with anticipation and a purpose that was as single-minded as his apparently was.

She wanted to see his rigid restraint shatter.

She longed to see him erupt in pleasure.

Moving her head in a darting motion, she tried to get a better angle on him. It took her a moment to realize she no longer saw his frantic pumping motions.

The lock clicked. She barely backed up in time before the metallic door swung open. She jumped when it clattered loudly against the next stall. Her breath froze in her lungs. Seth stood there, arms at his side, his face the vivid picture of a dangerous storm about to break. Her gaze dropped to his crotch. His jeans were still unfastened and bunched around his hips. His cock was inside his briefs, but still flagrantly obvious. It tented the front of his white boxer briefs, huge and intimidating-looking. Her stare locked with his.

Oh my God. What should I say? What should I
do
?

It wasn’t as if a person was ever taught to deal with a situation like this.

Then he was stalking past her, jerking up his jeans and fastening them as he went. She heard the water start to run at the sink. When she mustered enough nerve to move, she peered around the bank of metal stalls and saw him standing at the sink. He washed his hands vigorously with soap and water, then leaned down and splashed his face repeatedly. She could tell by his stiff, forceful movements he was furious.

He shut off the tap and turned to retrieve several paper towels from the dispenser. After he’d thrown away the damp towels, she finally found her voice.

“I just thought you might want this,” she said lamely, holding up the toiletry bag. Her gaze kept bouncing off him, like he was a fire too hot and radiating for it to rest for long. “I’m . . . I’m sorry,” she said in a choked voice. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Gia.”

She blinked and gaped up at his face when he cut her off harshly.

“Give me the bag, and go out to the car and wait for me.”

Her mouth fell open in disbelief. His eyes were molten. With that ominous pronouncement, did he mean what she thought he meant? One dark brow quirked as he stared at her stunned face. “Why are you surprised? You’re the one who won’t give me a second of rest. You should be the one to give me a moment of relief, don’t you think?”

His quiet, grim voice echoed in her head repeatedly. Her skin tingled beneath his scoring stare. She said nothing when he reached out and took the bag from her frozen, clawlike hand, setting it on the counter.

“Go on. I’ll be there in a moment.” She started to move toward the door, her heart beating uncomfortably hard in her chest. “Wait,” he barked.

She turned abruptly, surprised by his command. He tore off a paper towel and walked over to the sink. He wetted the towel. Without uttering a word, he stepped over to her. He cupped the back of her head with his palm and began to rub the towel over her lips, wiping off the paint there. Her lips parted when he moved the wet towel in the slit. His gaze narrowed on her mouth. He pushed with his hand at the back of her head gently and with the towel firmly, her soft flesh molding and succumbing to his touch.

“There’s a surveillance camera aimed at the cash register and the front door. Keep your head down when you pass. Go on,” he said gruffly as his hand lowered.