Rush (Phoenix Rising) (24 page)

“I love that smell,” she said, drawing Gil’s gaze from the push and pull of her pale breasts against the dark wood to her black-rimmed green eyes. “The tobacco. Dark and edgy. It turns me on.”

Gil’s groin tightened, but his mind remained distracted. He offered his inane politician smile and nodded. Let his gaze slide up the curve of her back, and watched her smooth ass gyrate. The tension evaporated from his shoulders.

“What can I do for you tonight, senator?” Courtney crawled along the bar. Stretching out, she pressed up on her palms, threw her head back and bent her knees until the tips of her glittering scarlet boots touched her blond head. “My throat is achy. Could use a good rubdown.”

Oh, this girl had his number, and played it expertly. Giving him control. Hinting toward dominance. “You’re lively tonight, Courtney.”

“I’m lively every night, senator.” She swung her legs around and pulled herself up by the pole at her back, then bent forward, her ass writhing along the big, round, brass shaft.

This one could offer him extreme stress relief. God knew he deserved it. He was pulling in a breath to accept her invitation, when someone slid into the seat beside him.

Courtney’s gaze swung in that direction. Her eyes sparked. “Well, hello, major.”

Gil didn’t have to look to know the man’s identity. The club only had fifty members, only three of those majors, and only one of which had reason to sit down beside him now.

“Good evening, Courtney,” the newcomer returned in a smooth, confident tone.

Every ounce of Gil’s tension returned, cramping his neck, clenching his teeth and fisting his hands. “Can’t I get an hour of peace?”

“You could have if you’d returned my phone calls.” Major Bruce Abernathy leaned forward, resting his forearms on the bar, his gaze appreciating the deep undulations of Courtney’s hips. “But since you didn’t, I have to interrupt your . . . peace. Courtney, beautiful,” he said, “can you give us a minute?”

She bent to run a finger down the side of Abernathy’s face, whispering, “I’ll give you as long as you want.” Her lips touched his. “You know where to find me.”

The girl slithered farther down the bar, joining another dancer and treating Admiral Peck and Ambassador Man-ash to an erotic rubbing, touching, tongue-sucking girl-on-girl act. Gil was almost as furious with Courtney for forgetting he existed as soon as Abernathy plopped his womanizing ass in the next chair as he was for these damn problems at the Castle only months before his senate campaign kickoff.

“You sure choose the strangest times to chase pussy, Gil.” Without taking his eyes off the women, Abernathy drank deeply from the amber beer in his hand.

“I’m relaxing,” Gil said. “Or I was until you showed up, and I have everything under control.”

“Yeah? Then you must have located O’Shay.” He paused, still watching the girls. Courtney was rubbing something shiny over the other woman’s breast while licking and sucking the opposite. “Must have the completed formula in your possession. Must have been just about to call me and let me know when Courtney distracted you.”

Gil’s blood pressure spurted into the two hundreds. He could feel the heat of tiny blood vessels bursting across the surface of his skin. “I’ve put Owen Young on O’Shay’s trail. We’ll have him within twenty-four hours. Probably less.”

“Good start.” Abernathy nodded absently, his attention honed now on Courtney’s finger deep inside the other woman’s mouth as she sucked until her cheeks caved in, pulling it out slowly, licking it up and down, then starting all over again. He took a drink of his beer, then rolled the chilled bottle against his forehead. “Getting hot in here.”

After another greedy swallow, nearly downing the rest of the bottle, Abernathy said, “Q was due in Punjab two days ago. My troops can’t just slum in Pakistan, Gil. If Q isn’t going to follow through on gathering those weapons, the men and get the intelligence out of them, it’s time for my men to move on.” Abernathy pried his gaze away from the soft porn show atop the bar and used his glacial blue gaze to pin Gil in place. “You know our budget goes where we go, senator. And you know I’d like to keep the bulk of our budget with your project. But I have to admit, I’m less than impressed with the way you’ve handled the development so far.”

The top blew off Schaeffer’s patience. “Who the hell do you think—?”

“You let extremist scientists dictate the speed of delivery. You let a few firefighters run circles around you. You let one damn lawyer hog tie you. You’ve got one job, Schaeffer. Only one that you’ve got to get right and that isn’t your senatorial position, because we all know that’s a given fuckup. You only need to wrap up this damn soldier of the future project. Not brain surgery, as they say.”

A pop from the other end of the bar drew Abernathy’s gaze again. One of the girls had pulled a can of instant whipped cream from behind the bar and was shaking it. Abernathy grinned and shoved his beer away. “Hold on there, ladies. I’ll help you with that.”

He stood and started in their direction, tossing Gil a dark look. “You’ve got two days to get Q to Punjab.”

Abernathy snagged the can from Courtney’s hand with the confidence of a man used to getting his way. He tipped his head back, squirted the cream into his mouth until it overflowed, then trailed the stream down his neck. With squeals of delight, one girl attacked Abernathy’s mouth, the other latched onto his neck. While feasting on and being feasted upon, Abernathy wrapped one arm around each girl’s waist and headed for the back stairway.

 

Jessica couldn’t get comfortable. Couldn’t find sleep. She kicked the covers off, but found her legs already bare and remembered she’d torn off the silk pajama pants Mitch’s assistant had supplied early on in her attempts to sleep. Now she only wore panties and a tank top. But she was still hot. Restless. Dying for some fresh air. But Mitch had told everyone to sleep with their windows closed and locked.

She groaned in frustration and twisted onto her back, pulled the pillow from under her head and tossed it to the other side of the bed. She scraped both hands through her hair, then flung her arms out wide.

Quaid filled her mind. Quaid then. Quaid now. Where the hell was he? She’d thought he’d be sleeping with her tonight. Had expected him to come to her after he’d looked at the pictures.

And the pain that went away only when she slept, blossomed like a flower in her chest. She closed her eyes on the bittersweet memory of his confession of love. Sweet because of course he had strong feelings for her. Bitter because he didn’t know why, didn’t understand either the feelings or what they stood for. How much could words, or even feelings mean when the real moments in life that created those feelings were absent from his memories? Then he’d admitted he wasn’t even sure he could live up to the commitment.

She really hadn’t gotten her husband back.

She’d gotten the
possibility
of her husband back.

What the hell did she do with that?

Still, there were parts of this new Quaid she really enjoyed. His vulnerability. His openness. His almost-innocence, which was a strange way to see him after he’d nearly beaten that spy or assassin or whatever he was to death. But that was another thing she loved about this Quaid, his fierce protectiveness.

And if she had been prepared for that intense sexual version of Quaid, their sex earlier in the day might not have been so shocking and she might not have been too emotionally messed up to enjoy it. Because the passion ebbing from the man was toe-curling extreme.

Okay, this was not helping. She was going to fry in here. Rolling off the bed toward the window, she unlocked and slid it open. She inhaled deeply, letting the clean air cool her body, cleanse her mind, soothe her heart.

She could do this. She would rework her life to make it right for Quaid, too. They’d find a way.

Fear crawled out of a dark corner of her chest. He had no memory of having chosen her after dating many other women. Without any comparison, how would he know she was the right one? What if he wanted to date? What if wanting his freedom meant him wanting freedom from her, too?

God, these were never things she’d even imagined, let alone considered.

Her anxiety amped up her body heat again. She pulled at the fabric of her tank, fanning the air against her belly. Wasn’t cement supposed to keep buildings cool, for God’s sake? Oh, screw it. She crossed her arms, grabbed the hem and pulled the fabric toward her head.

“Don’t.”

A male voice.

Quaid’s voice.

Jessica froze in place, her heart speeding from the kick of fear-laden adrenaline.

“Please.” He softened his voice, the tone edged with a painful plea. “Please don’t. I’m barely keeping my hands off you as it is.”

J
essica lowered her hands, swallowed and turned slowly. It took a moment to find him, sitting on the floor near the door in the deepest shadows, knees up, back pressed against the wall.

“What . . . ?” She felt stupid asking such a basic question, but it needed answering. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer right away. The darkness, the silence, felt heavy and charged with emotion. “I just . . . needed to be near you.”

With no other stimuli distracting her, his voice registered so clearly as Quaid’s, it reached into her chest and squeezed her heart like a fist.

“I . . . didn’t want to wake you,” he said. “Why didn’t you stay?”

She knew he meant for the pictures, but she didn’t know how to put all the pain, failed hopes and dreams, misery, agony, and loss into words. “I . . . it just . . .”

“Hurt too much,” he said, his voice a pained whisper, telling Jessica he felt the same pain.

Her heart cracked a little more. She twirled her fingers in the bottom of her tank. “Yes. I’m sorry. I should have been there for you. I didn’t realize . . . I didn’t think . . .” She gasped with a sudden realization, and that damn spark of hope that just wouldn’t die flared again. “Did you . . . remember—?”

“No.” He pulled an audible breath. “I’m—” His voice broke and with it, Jessica’s heart fell into pieces. “I’m sorry, Jess.”

She pressed her eyes shut. Nodded, because she didn’t trust herself to speak.

“I want to. I want to remember so badly.” The desire in his voice rasped low and needy and both Jessica’s heart and body churned in response.

“It’s not your fault.”

He made a noise and Jessica lifted her gaze to him. All she could see was that he’d straightened his arms, braced them on his knees and hung his head between his biceps. His shoulders shook. And, oh, shit . . .

“Quaid?” Her voice trembled.

She crossed the room and knelt beside him. The industrial grade carpet bit into her knees. She could hear him now, suppressing his sobs. Her heart shattered.

“Oh, my God, Quaid. Baby, don’t.”

She put her hand around his ankle, slid it up bare skin to his shin. She realized he’d changed into shorts at some point. Scooting close, she put both hands on the leg closest to her and gave a comforting squeeze. The heat of his hip burned through the cotton of his shorts and into her thigh where she pressed against him.

The feel of his skin, the light brush of crisp hair against her hand, all that warmth, made her want to keep touching, caressing, exploring. She longed to move close, to feel him against her.

“Shh, baby,” she whispered, pressing her cheek to his arm. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I didn’t realize . . .”

“Seeing everyone, seeing how happy we all were . . . especially y-you”—his voice caught—“only to see what my death has . . . done to you, how much pain you’ve . . . been through. . . . ”

He heaved a breath and rested his head on his arm. His breathing remained choppy and Jessica ached for him. Her own tears wet her face. She reached up and scratched her fingers gently along his scalp, something that always used to soothe him. He let out a shaky sigh, fisted his hands and then released them.

“When I thought you were a dream, a fantasy, it kept me going, gave me something to look forward to. You kept me alive all those years. I’ve spent an hour looking at those pictures of us, then another three replaying them in my head. And I know I
had
you. You and me. We were . . . we were
us
.” He shook his head, a sharp, angry movement. “And I don’t remember a goddamned minute. It’s killing me. Because, damn it, Jess, I want you. I want . . .
that
. I want . . . shit, I don’t even know. Because I don’t know what we had, because I can’t fucking remember. But it’s inside me and it’s . . . God, it’s so intense, so insane, I feel like I’m going to explode with it.”

His ferocity seemed to roil inside her, kicking up a storm of hope and loss and love and anger.

“Jessica—” He lifted his head and looked at her. “I’m not that man.”

“Quaid—”

“I’m not. And I never will be.” His voice was cold and final. Bitter. “I know I look like him and sound like him, but inside,
I’m not him
. You just have to accept that. I have to accept it.” He gestured toward the door. “They have to accept it.”

“Baby, you’ve been through so much. Give yourself some time. Give
us
some time. You can’t expect—”

“There is no part of him inside me.”

His finality chilled her. But it also angered her. “You told me just hours ago that you love me.”

“I do, Jess. I
do
love you.”

“Then the man in those pictures
has
to be inside you somewhere, because there is no other possible way for you to love me.
None
.”

He breathed heavily and laid his forehead against his arms. “You’ve already gone through so much pain. I don’t want to put you through any more when you realize I can’t become him.”

“I can accept that, if you can keep yourself open to memories that come, if they come.” She spread her fingers over his head and pulled him toward her until their foreheads touched.

“Jessica.” His eyes closed. “You are so stubborn.”

“Persistent.” She pushed his knees until his legs lay flat, then lifted one leg across his lap and sat on his thighs. “This is a one in a zillion opportunity, Quaid. How often do people get a second chance to find love with their once-in-a-lifetime? I believe in you as a person. I believe in your essence. No one, nothing can change that.”

God, she hated using euphemisms for their marriage, but considering he was ready to bolt even after they’d had sex that he’d enjoyed, now would not be the time to tell him he was stuck with her.

She tilted her head and kissed him. Firmly, purposefully.

He met her kiss for the briefest moment, then pushed her back. “This didn’t go so well last time. . . .”

“If you’re referring to the bathroom, I think it went plenty fine for you. I wasn’t expecting quite so much . . . passion, and had a few of my own head trips going on. You’re not the only one with issues to get past, Quaid. We all have our demons. Besides, practice makes—”

“Perfect,” he finished.

A small smile lifted her mouth as she thought of the baby they could have a second chance at making. “We’re different people now. We’ll have to learn how to make love to each other again. It’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it.” She leaned back and pulled her tank off over her head before he could protest. Then she tossed it across the room, to make a statement—she wasn’t changing her mind and she wasn’t letting him try to change it for her—and stroked his chest. “And I think we should start now.
Right
now.”

 

Air shuddered into Q’s lungs as he dragged his gaze over Jessica’s full breasts, her strong, flat belly. All his focus seemed to collect, then center on her as if nothing else mattered.

And that was one of his biggest problems. He didn’t just want her. He
craved
her. Had coveted her for years. Every part of him strained for the freedom she offered. The expression. The sensation. The connection. The release. Sonofabitch, how he needed it all. And she was the one and only place he could find everything he needed.

Yet, just like with the food, the more he wanted something, the more he resisted. And he wanted her a hundred times more now than he’d wanted her earlier when she’d come to him. Because now, he’d tasted her. Now, he knew exactly what she could give him. And he was ready and willing to beg. If he would only let himself.

“Jessie—”

A flash of impatience lit her dark eyes before she grabbed his wrists and drew his hands to her breasts. With her hands covering his, she cupped the mounds, caressed them.

Q’s goal of staying in control vanished. His mind funneled to the utterly unique feel of her feminine body—her skin so soft he had nothing in his experience for comparison, her breasts pillowy, yet resilient. And her scent. God, her scent. Now she smelled like a combination of herbs and spice, flowers and sunshine. She smelled like pleasure, seduction, secrets and trouble. She smelled like sex. Like raw, wild, passionate sex—like their sex earlier.

She shimmied forward on his thighs, and pressed the heat between her legs against his erection. Sensation, so powerful it bordered on painful, surged through his entire pelvis. Jessica rubbed against him and her nipples tightened in his palms. All Q’s banked lust broke loose.

He leaned in and kissed her. Instantly penetrated her lips with his tongue, seeking hers. Then circled in demanding, needy strokes, which made him think about tasting different parts of her. All of her. He wrapped her in his arms, suddenly ravenous. His mouth hungry to travel. His tongue restless to taste.

With her arms clutching his shoulders, thighs grabbing his hips, bare belly sliding along his, and those damn round, jiggly breasts rolling against his chest, it was a fucking feat he wasn’t a comatose, drooling mess from the pleasure.

Her very essence rubbed the length of his cock with every rock of her hips. And each tilt began a slow, luscious wave that traveled up her body, sliding through them as if they were one, stomach to stomach, chest to breasts and right into their kiss, only to start again. With each move, everything in his body coiled tighter, grew larger, demanded more. Until that more made him grip a handful of her hair and pull back to break the kiss.

“More,” was all he got out.

“Yes,” she answered.

His body took action without a direct order from his brain. He pulled his legs under him, slid his arms around her waist and pushed to his feet. With her smooth, luscious thighs gripping his hips, he was holding Jessica just as he had earlier in the day. But tonight, it wouldn’t end there. At least not the way it had before.

All Q could think about was getting Jessica horizontal, bringing his body in complete contact with hers, sinking his hands into her hair....

When his legs hit the side of the bed, he leaned over, laid Jessica back with plans to follow her, press his body into hers and soak in the feeling of all that perfect flesh beneath him. But he took one sweeping gaze down that body and paused on the shape of a wing emerging from high on her inner thigh.

He slid his hands over her belly, pelvis, thighs, where he rolled her leg out. Her scent traveled on the heat of her body and wrapped around Q, making him dizzy with lust. He focused on the scar, just below the junction of her thigh and pelvis. Traced it with his fingers, while his mind struggled with flashes of memory or dreams or . . .

“Quaid?”

Jessica’s voice pulled him back. “I’ve seen this. In my dreams.”

He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to the purple flourish. Jessica sighed. He sucked at the tender flesh. She moaned and lifted her hips. Something about the sound made him open his eyes. He looked down at her phoenix. Alongside the bird, his hand spanned her thigh, big and rough and very male in comparison to her smooth flesh.

The sight, her sound, the combination, lit off thoughts he couldn’t quite grab. But a cold trickle of discomfort traveled through his chest.

“Quaid?” Jessica said. “Are you okay?”

His hand tightened on her thigh. “Were . . . those dreams?”

Fear, clear and sharp, burst in her eyes. She propped herself up on an elbow and ran her hand over his head and across his shoulder. But she didn’t speak. Didn’t meet his eyes.

The cold river in his chest turned hot. Spread through his body. But no one memory fully emerged.

“Jessica.” He waited until she lifted her gaze, her beautiful eyes a mix of regret, fear, plea and an edge of rebellion. “I have a strange feeling those weren’t dreams. Did I imagine you with . . . ?”

God, why was it so hard to say? It had never bothered him before. He’d never felt this tightness in his chest. This need to grab her and shake her. This need to brand her as his. This need to choke any other man that ever touched her.

“Fuck.” He ran a hand down his face. The intensity of his emotions made him push away.

Jessica grabbed his arm. “Quaid, wait.”

“I don’t understand. Nothing . . . makes sense.” The combination of panic, fear and anger made a volatile emotion grow inside him, one he didn’t like, one that felt too much like the desperation he’d felt at the Castle. “I thought . . . You said . . . Were they all
real
?”

“It wasn’t . . .” Her hand tightened on his arm, her voice strong, insistent. “Quaid—”

His gaze sharpened. “Were they
real
?”

She hesitated, then said, “Quaid, I’ve never—”

“Don’t you dare lie to me.”

“—loved anyone but you. Ever.”

The deepest place in his heart believed. But other dark places inside him needed security. He combed his fingers into her hair, pulled it back from her face. The motion tipped her head back so she looked directly into his eyes.

“You’re. Mine.” His voice shook and he took a breath. “That may not be right, but it’s how I feel. It just . . .
is
.”

Her eyes closed for a moment, then opened glistening with tears. “Yes.”

“Say it, Jessie.”

“I’m yours. I’ve always been yours. I’ll always be yours.”

His restraint snapped. His chest opened. Took her in. Wrapped around her. Closed. And locked.

He looked back at the phoenix and lowered his mouth to her skin. Pushing all other thoughts out of his mind, he kissed and licked and sucked at her flesh, determined to wipe out those memories.

Her quick breaths and moans told him she liked what he was doing, which was good, because he wanted to taste every part of her. But one part of her was pulling him harder than the rest. He slid his mouth toward her heat. Her panties caressed his lips. Jessica groaned and lifted toward his mouth. He licked the fabric, sucked silk and her flesh beneath into his mouth, rubbed it with his tongue.