Uncommon Passion (34 page)

revealing her mound. When his finger dipped into her hidden folds she tried to spread her legs but

couldn’t.

“Look at you,” he said again. His middle finger skimmed up a little, brushing the side of her clitoris.

“Watch while I get you off.”

So she did, and as she did, she wondered at the back of her mind if this was the Ben other women saw.

Slightly rough, slightly edgy, not all that dissimilar from the man she’d bought at the bachelor auction. The

new Rachel looked back at her from the mirror, eyes alight with passion, cheeks flushed, bare breasts

tipped with reddened nipples, a man at her back. His rough cheek snagged in her hair and sent it spilling

over her shoulders. Then the stroking finger made her thighs clench. Her eyes slid to soft focus. Ben

ground his hard shaft against her bottom as she undulated and gasped.

“Shh,” he ordered without letting up on his ruthless touch.

Silence was impossible, because this was the hottest thing she’d ever done, slow and visceral, like

straining time through honey, and she saw it all. Saw the sex flush bloom on her chest, the same color as

the roses Ben brought her, saw it climb her throat and claim her cheeks. Saw muscles tremble and clench in

her abdomen and thighs. Saw her throat work as she tried to stifle the desperate, pleading noises he called

from her. Then, when the pleasure peaked and his hand slid up from her breast to cover her mouth, she let

go. Waves of release pulsed from the slick spot where his finger stroked outward through her skin, into the

room and beyond. Her knees trembled and she sagged against his body. As she watched, Ben bent over her,

his forehead resting on her shoulder.

“Ready for more?” he asked her reflection, but he had to clear his throat to get the words out.

Her hair slid into her face when she nodded. He turned her to face him, tucked the heavy strands behind

her ear, then crouched to push her jeans clear of her legs. He stepped back until his legs met the bed, then

sat down. Springs squeaked and the mattress sagged. He put his hands on her hips and pushed. As she went

to her knees she looked over her shoulder to find Ben centered in the mirror, all dark stubble and hooded

blue eyes.

“You want to watch me do this?” she asked, and there was no hint of innocence in her voice.

He focused on her mouth, on her drawn shoulders, on their intimate, sexual position. “Hell yes,” he said

roughly.

He unbuckled his belt, popped open the buttons of his fly, then leaned back on his elbows, drawing his

shirt up to expose his lower belly. The cheap polyester bedspread rustled under him. Rachel bent forward,

firmed up the tip of her tongue, and traced the vein all the way up his shaft to the sensitive spot just under

the head. Then she settled back on her heels and repeated the process, each time covering new ground but

always, always finding the bundle of nerves. His breathing shallowed as his gaze flicked between Rachel’s

mouth and the show in the mirror.

He slid his palm under her hair to cup her nape and bring her head forward. She opened her mouth just

enough that it gave him the edge of teeth scraping ever so gently as his cock slid into her mouth to the back

of her throat. For several long minutes he set a slow pace, the slick sounds of her mouth and his breathing

punctuated occasionally by her soft whimper. He gave her a breather, letting her swallow hard. His cock

pulsed, then he dragged his hand from her nape through her hair to brush his thumb over her lips.

“Very, very good,” he said. “Let’s keep going.”

He found his wallet and pulled out a condom, rolling it down his shaft while Rachel knelt between his

legs. Then he pulled her up onto the bed. The ancient mattress dipped and swayed as he adjusted her

position, on her knees and centered in the mirror. He wrapped one arm around her and guided her forward,

face to the bedspread, ass in the air, and used his knees to spread her wide. She was blind until he gently

collected her hair at the back of her head.

When he could see her face, he braced one fist on the bed by her right knee, and gripped her hair with

the other, making escape impossible. He slid inside, torturously slowly. The contrast of his gentle stroke

with his rough handling made her tremble. She needed to touch him. Even in this position she wanted her

hands free to caress his leg or cup the nape of his neck. Whatever she could reach. She wanted that

connection.

But he started to move, and within moments slow was long gone, the firestorm of lust roaring higher

with each stroke. He hunched over her and took what he wanted, powerful strokes from tip to hips. The

smacking sound was loud in the room. Then he bent forward, shifting his weight from his right hand to his

left.

“Come on,” he murmured. “Tell me what you like. Is that better?” he asked, widening her stance a little.

A faint whimper. “How about”—he adjusted the cant of his hips, sliding lower over the hot spot inside

her—“that?” he asked, and did it again.

A hard shudder ran through her.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

“Good,” she gasped. “So good, but . . .” She undulated, her wrists straining against the cuffs, her hands

reaching for something and getting nothing. She didn’t want it to end like this, him deep inside her yet miles

away. Her arms jerked again, desperate to hold him close, but orgasm reared up, poised to crush her. All

she had left was his name.

“Ben,” she cried out.

Then the wave crashed over her, drowning her in sensation. Ben thrust deep, his release jerked from his

body as he ground deep inside her. When the last shudder ripped through him he inhaled a deep gasping

breath, and curved over her. Instinctively sheltering her, and yet giving her nothing of himself.

Rachel’s heart tore just a little.

When he straightened he immediately released her hands, then stepped away to deal with the condom.

She pushed back to her heels, the muscles in her thighs and arms trembling with the effort, forcing her to

tuck her knees to the side and sit for a moment to regain her balance. Ben tucked the cuffs into their leather

case, then strode into the bathroom. Water ran in the shower, then the curtain slid closed.

For the first time, it wasn’t enough. More honesty and intimacy infused their first night together than

this, and if she’d learned anything in the last year, it was that doing what she’d always done in the hopes of

getting different results was a waste of time and energy. Her body quivered, the hot aftermath sliding along

her nerves as she found her clothes discarded on the floor and dressed. Ben didn’t seem surprised to see

her ready to go when he came out of the shower. He dressed in quick jerks, slipped his wallet, keys, cuffs

into various pockets, then tossed the room key on the table.

“I’ll walk you back to your car,” he said.

“I’d prefer you didn’t,” she said quietly.

He cut her a sharp glance that flicked away as quickly as it landed, then folded his arms across his chest.

“I can’t keep doing this, Ben,” she said, gesturing around the hotel room.

He barked out a laugh. “You wanted a man who wouldn’t care. I’m that man. Never expect a man to

change. What you see the first time is what you’ll get the last time.”

“How disappointing,” she said. How sad. How
tragic
.

“Lower your expectations.”

“I meant for you,” she said as gently as he’d been harsh.

One eyebrow lifted. “You can’t fall in love with the first man you screw.”

“You can’t tell me what to feel,” she said. “Because I could so easily fall in love with you. I’m halfway

there as it is. You’re strong and dedicated and you care so deeply, as much as you try to pretend you don’t.”

“I don’t give a fuck about anything,” he said easily.

“So you say. Life at Elysian Fields sheltered me from so much about the real world, but I did learn

about men who wall themselves off behind the way things are supposed to be. You need me to treat this as

casually as you treat it. You need me to be another plate in the armor you wear to defend yourself against

feeling anything.”

He somehow got bigger, broader, even more walled off. “Bullshit.”

“Why aren’t you with your family at the hospital? When was the last time you went to Sam’s for brunch

on Sunday with your parents?”

He went still. Totally still. “That’s none of your business.”

“I know,” she said evenly. “It’s no one’s business, Ben, and that’s the sad part. I don’t want to learn

what you have to teach me. I don’t want to go where you’re going. I sacrificed too much to become a

stranger to myself.” She looked around the cheap room, the cigarette burns visible on the bathroom

counter, the cracked mirror. “This isn’t even your apartment. What’s next? The back seat of your patrol

car?”

He flashed her that shark’s smile, the bright, flashing one that made the average woman’s brain stutter to

a stop. But not hers. “Lady’s choice,” he said easily.

“That’s what breaks my heart, Ben,” she said. “You told me not to confuse this with love, and I haven’t.

But it doesn’t even hold the promise of love, or the chance. Sometimes it’s not even affectionate. I can’t

keep doing this. I don’t like who I’ll become if I do.”

With that she stepped out of the hotel room, into the open hallway running the length of the second

story. She closed the door behind her and walked down the stairs and across the street to her car, still

waiting in the No Limits parking lot. The noise and commotion coming from the bar remained exactly the

same.

But the words
rent asunder
, heard so often in her previous life, took on new meaning. Her heart was

rent asunder when she walked out of that hotel room.

• • •

He was falling. Tipping. Skidding. The floor trembled under his feet like the edge of Rachel’s lip when

she looked around the room. He had been from the moment Rachel surrendered. She should have looked a

little bit ruined, cheap and awkward with her jeans around her thighs and no way to keep her hair out of

her face.

Instead, she looked powerful. Like a comic book action heroine, the kind who could call down fire or

summon the ocean to do her bidding. The kind who blasted through steel plates without blinking an eye.

She took his breath away.

This isn’t even your apartment.

He’d gone from the bare minimum of intimacy—conversation over a shared meal and sex—to a twisted,

warped game, or tried to. The only reason a third man, a total fucking stranger, wasn’t leaving this room

with Rachel’s scent on his skin was her innate, true, unbreakable sense of self.

At least she had one.

He’d known this was coming. All he’d wanted to do was the right thing, get her up to speed on how the

world worked.

The thought sliced dull and deep, and he winced, shook his head once.
Get her up to speed.
Like she’d

come late to a briefing for a tactical operation. Like the most important thing he could offer her was a crash

course in how to separate sex and emotions.

Like
because I can
defined him, and therefore should define her.

That’s all you have to offer her.

Now that it was here he didn’t feel relieved. He was shattered because he’d purposefully ignored every

cue, every shudder, every plea for greater intimacy, for—
admit it,
he thought to himself—what they both

wanted.

Oh God.

When he’d come out of the bathroom she was fully dressed. Her hair spilled like a dark waterfall

against her cheeks and over her shoulders. Even thoroughly fucked, she was beautiful.

Then she’d called him on everything. Every fucking thing he did and every fucking thing he was and

every fucking thing he lived for. She was so goddamn beautiful, the way things that could end you were.

Guns. Knives. The tawny bird of prey she resembled.

Unnameable emotions reached into his chest and gripped his heart and lungs, trapping them against his

ribs. With his back to the door Rachel had just walked out of, he laced his fingers behind his head, slid to

his heels, and hunkered over. Trying to breathe. Failing.

But he knew this. He’d done this before, survived this before, hoped to never survive it again, and here

it was. Familiar in its pain, sitting comfortably inside his rib cage, crushing his lungs, knocking away at his

heart.

Eventually his body succumbed to the need for oxygen. Eventually it would demand food, water, rest.

So, eventually he pushed to his feet and opened the door. Across the street a typical Saturday night at No

Limits roared on, laughter and music and high-pitched chatter spilling out of the open door. Steve and the

cop Ben got to replace him tonight stood by the entrance to the parking lot, glancing between cell phones

and the line waiting to get into the club.

Ben scanned the parking lot. Rachel’s hail-dented Focus was gone.

Walking came back to him just before he navigated the stairs, thank Christ. Hearing returned just before