Whose Bed Is It Anyway? (10 page)

He'd only had to stand in front of her and she was aroused. Now she was burning. She arched her hips repeatedly, trying to get him to touch her again. There. Just as he had. She was
so
close. He teased her—knowing what she wanted. Giving her only half.

‘I'm halfway there in my head already, you know,' she gasped, embarrassed at how wet and desperate she was. ‘It's not all your doing.'

‘No?' He laughed. ‘Then I better work harder.'

No wonder he was good at his job. He put so much determined focus into the task at hand. His tongue moved in erotic circles. She wanted him inside her. That one teasing finger wasn't enough. He fastened his mouth over her clit and sucked. Adding to the onslaught by caressing the nub with the tip of his tongue. His hands clamped hard on her hips so she couldn't escape him. Her entire body tensed as orgasm approached. She heard the low sound of satisfaction deep in his throat as she shook in his arms—her legs spread wide, her hips bucking up to him. She cried out as sharp, piercing pleasure hit—quick and fierce and so, so good.

She slumped, panting roughly, trying to regain control of herself—so she could push for more. She wanted more.

Oh, she'd gone to heaven. This was intimate, raw and real...
honest
. And yet it was like a dream. A damn good one.

He swept his hands possessively over her lower belly, looking his fill at her slick, ready sex. Then he moved his gaze higher, to her heavy, tight breasts. He smiled and lightly stroked his fingers upwards, over her ribcage until he struck the soft flesh. He changed position, to cup her breasts carefully. Then slid his thumbs nearer and nearer her painfully tight nipples.

‘Feeling better?' he asked.

She shook her head. ‘I want you. All of you.' She wanted him inside her.

But he just grinned and started all over again with the slow teases—the strokes, kisses, licks, nips. Building her tension, making her
want
. Until at last she writhed on the bed, like a restless wanton, helpless to subdue the sensations clamouring through her body.

‘How bad do you want it?' he murmured.

‘As bad as you got.' She panted. Defiant. Teasing. Because she heard the tension in his roughened voice, she saw the steely grit in his eyes. The determination.

His grin quirked. His hands tightened around her wrists, preventing her from touching him. Preventing her from stopping him. Not that she had any thought of stopping him. He knelt above her, keeping his body out of reach of hers.

‘What is it you want?' he asked.

‘You. All of you. Now.' She was reduced to begging. ‘Please.'

‘Hmm.' He pretended to ponder her request. But slowly lowered himself nearer.
Almost
near enough.

‘James.' She ground out his name. ‘James, James, James.'

He pushed forward, slowly filling her.

‘Hell,' he growled. An edge of desperation sharpened it; his grip on her wrists tightened. ‘It's been a while, Goldilocks.'

‘Ditto,' she breathed. ‘And call me by my name.' Defiant to the end, she demanded he feel this as intensely as she.

He put on a puzzled face so she had to strain up and sharply nip his lip.

He laughed. ‘Caitlin. Beautiful, fiery, funny Caitlin.'

He shifted, pushing a fraction deeper. He gritted his teeth.

She growled and lifted her legs to wrap them around his hips, pushing her heels on his butt to keep him close inside. So good. Too much. But she didn't want to lose a moment of it. Didn't want him to slide back even a millimetre. She strained her legs further around him, fiercely trying to clutch him closer. She moaned, wordless, unable to express how insanely good he felt filling her like this. He took every inch—and then some.

‘You going to let me move?' he rasped as she locked even tighter around him.

She shook her head.

He chuckled, the tension in his face easing. ‘Too bad for you.'

He, stronger than she, broke free of her hold. Withdrew. She gasped in disappointment. But then he slammed back into her and her groan came in ecstasy instead. He was hard, powerful, big. Now he thrust hard and fast. His hands still pinned her wrists so she couldn't touch him. The dominance merely turned her on more. She liked being at his mercy, enjoyed the power she'd allowed inside her. And she let him pleasure her from the inside out—met him with every stroke. Until, so quickly, she sighed, letting herself go in his delicious rhythm.

But then he stilled. Went slow, his movements teasingly uneven. His smile was almost malicious as he held her agonisingly on the precipice of orgasm.

‘Don't you dare stop,' she growled at him.

His dark eyes pierced. ‘I want to watch you come again. I want to feel you clenching around me. I want to soak in your wet heat.'

She gasped. His words alone heated her, but as he spoke he slowly rolled his hips, providing just enough friction to send her over.

Her neck arched and she squeezed her eyes shut as it hit. She cried out, her relief sounding raw, her fingers in tight fists, as spasms of delight shook through her. He stayed thrust deep inside, rocking in only the tiniest, most maddening way that maintained that pressure on her clit, so the sensations kept surging through her.

Oh, he was good. Too good.

She breathed fast, shallow, loud as she clawed her way back from the prolonged orgasm. Slowly she opened her eyes. It wasn't enough. She wanted it wild. She wanted
him
wild.

He looked it—with his face flushed, his eyes black, intent and trained on her, his jaw clamped shut. And his sex still slammed tight inside her.

‘Satisfied?' she taunted breathlessly.

‘Not nearly.' He bent and kissed her ferociously, his tongue circling in the cavern of her mouth. His invasion of her total.

Slowly he withdrew his cock, then thrust again. He lifted his head fractionally so he could read her expression. She strained up to keep their lips in contact. She was building again already. So sensitive yet still aroused. Not completely satisfied because he'd not been satisfied. Another orgasm was yet possible. She wanted it. And she wanted it
with
him this time.

‘Demanding,' he muttered.

He'd felt her body tighten on him.

‘Is that a problem?'

His eyes narrowed, more determined. ‘I like it.' He moved again. ‘I like you.' He kissed her ear lobe, tracing the whorl with his tongue before whispering, ‘I like being in you.'

She angled her head as he kissed and sucked his way down the side of her neck. Helplessly she rocked her hips beneath him, cradling his, aching for him to simply screw them both to smithereens.

‘Show me how much,' she asked. ‘Show me.'

This time he didn't stop. This time his breathing roughened along with his movements. This time he swore pithy and crude as he told her again how good she felt. How he couldn't stop. How he wanted more. And he took more. Pushed for her absolute acceptance of him. Driving into her over and over and over.

She moaned with every thrust. Louder, harder, faster, like the animal she was. He was almost as loud, feral and grunting as he fought to fill her—and fill his own needs. His lips parted, almost in a snarl as the pleasure sucked her under again and she screamed.

He rammed into her deep and hard one last time, his body jerking, eyes closing as orgasm overtook him.

He slumped, almost smothering her. His harsh groan rang in her ears, but she revelled in his weight, in the thump of his heart against her breast, in his exhaustion. In the sweat pooling between them.

She smiled despite her swollen, oversensitive, kissed to glory lips. ‘You know that only counts as one, right?'

SEVEN

Caitlin moaned as
she reluctantly woke. Her body tingled. He'd flipped her over for their tenth round only an hour ago, determined to prove that the woman's gushing in that article hadn't been a massive exaggeration and that he could, in fact, go much, much more.

‘So how bad was it?' James asked teasingly.

With effort she rolled away from where she'd been burrowed against his side and smiled, happy to take the bait—and bite. ‘I think you need a little more practice at being super bad.'

‘More practice?' He lay face down in the centre of the bed, his words muffled by pillows and a delighted laziness in his voice.

She prised her eyelids open with her fingers. ‘Much.'

He half laughed, mostly groaned. ‘Tigress.'

She'd barely slept—she couldn't with the way he'd tended to her, tormented on her. The way he'd
touched
her... She was still floating in an utterly soothed, relaxed state. She'd never felt such freedom and yet such safety before. There were no morning after regrets here.

With a growl and a curse he levered up from the bed. ‘I'm not looking at you.' He stumbled into the bathroom.

Caitlin closed her eyes again and stretched right out on the bed. Her aches began to ease; already she hungered for fulfilment again. With treatment like this, she could stay here for ever.

Her eyes flashed open at that wayward thought. Instantly, imperatively she reminded herself of some fundamental truths. Just as there was no such thing as love-at-first-sight, nor was there such a thing as love-at-first-screw. There was definitely no such thing as life-changing, earth-shattering, cataclysmic sex. So this dreamy, whole-other-plane of happiness she was coasting on was purely hormonal. Not actually
real
. Her pulse would settle, the softness inside would harden up again.

Dazed, she made herself drum up some emotional armour. Doubtless he had a million annoying habits—aside from the arrogance and occasional moodiness she'd already witnessed. And just because they were sexually compatible didn't mean they had anything more in common. The ‘happy ever after' fantasy flash could disperse into the thin air from which it had come. It was a moment, that was all. Everyone knew the initial rush of lust faded from any relationship.

Not that this was a relationship.

Hell. Her mind was shredded.

This was just fun, easy sex. With the ground rules established and the end date already in sight, there was simply enjoyment to be had. Like having a regular booking at a fine restaurant, she'd be able to enjoy all the dishes over a few short days. Then end it satisfied, replete and with no ill effects after.

The bathroom door opened and he walked out. Rippling abs, massive muscles, even more massive erection.

Dear heaven. How could he possibly be hard again? ‘Did you pop Viagra while you were in there?' She gaped, so tempted to climb aboard and take another ride to oblivion.

‘Who needs that when I have you to look at?' he answered all husky voice, stubble and smoky eyes. ‘You're the sexiest thing I've ever seen. And the way you move? The way you moan? They way you whisper sweet filth in my ear?' He shook his head and laughed. ‘I can't
not
get hard for you.'

‘You say the most charming things.' She shimmied into the sheets, wanting him to come back to bed. She'd discovered her inner nympho.

‘I know.' He grinned.

But to her horror he walked into the wardrobe.

‘Are you getting
dressed
?' she asked, amazed. How would he ever get his trousers done up? And what was with the hurry? Didn't he want to sleep? Didn't he want to put that fine erection to use?

She heard his bark of laughter.

‘You're in New York,' he said. ‘You should be making the most of your time here.'

‘I am,' she called after him. ‘I've already walked my own New York marathon. What more do I need?'

‘You should be
experiencing
all the city has to offer, not just walking past all the attractions.'

‘This is all your travel expertise coming out, huh?' She rolled her eyes. ‘I'm
experiencing
local hospitality—getting to know one local very well. Isn't that enough?'

‘No. There is so much to see and do. This is your holiday. And mine.'

She hesitated. Seriously? He didn't just want to have a holiday in bed? ‘What did you have in mind?'

‘Don't look so wary.' He waggled his index finger at her. ‘It won't cost anything.'

She steadfastly met his gaze. ‘There are different kinds of costs. Money is the least of my concerns.'

‘Really?'

A small sigh escaped her. ‘You still don't understand. You had trouble over one news story, James.
One
. Do you have any idea how many headlines I've been in? None of them good.' She forced herself to get up off the bed and stalked towards the bathroom. The guy was never going to get it.

‘You're still worried about being spotted?' He followed her, leaning against the doorframe. ‘Well, so what if you are? Why give a damn? Why not just get out there and lift your chin high and screw them all?'

She kept her back to him as she turned on the shower. ‘It's not that easy—as well you know.' She turned to face him. ‘You're too scared to enter a new relationship for fear of the media finding out. Of someone letting you down.'

His mouth opened, shut, then opened again. ‘That's not why I don't want a relationship.'

‘No?'

‘Of course it's not. I'm not that pathetic.'

He wasn't? She stepped into the shower. ‘So why no relationship?'

He shrugged. ‘It doesn't fit with my lifestyle. I'm away all the time. I'm never sure for how long or where I'm going to be going. It's not fair to ask someone to keep home fires burning.'

Oh, please, that was the line he was spinning? ‘Military spouses do it all the time,' she said, lathering up the shower gel. ‘SEALS go covert in all kinds of dangerous places, for who knows how long.'

‘It's not going to work for me. I'm not going to ask someone to live their life like that for me. I'm not going to leave a family in the lurch if I happen not to come back. I'm not doing that to my kid.'

Raw vehemence tinged his voice, betraying emotion. A personal connection to the words? Who had he seen not come back?

She frowned as she rinsed off, wishing she were up close enough to see into his eyes. His family published the world's most popular independent travel guides. His grandfather had started it, his parents were also intrepid travellers. He and his brothers had grown up with the world at their feet. They were the ultimate success story. Living the American dream—independent, ambitious and happy, right?

‘Maybe you wouldn't travel so much when you're settled. You'd take fewer risks,' she said.

His expression shuttered, he reached for a towel and held it out to her. ‘I'm not changing my job for anyone. I'll never stop doing what I do. And I'd never be able to compromise it, not for anyone.'

Caitlin stepped out of the shower and wrapped the large towel around her. ‘Work will always come first for you.' A little patch in her chest ached, but she got it.

His stance stiffened and he crossed his arms, regarding her steadily. ‘I love my job. I need to—'

‘It's okay.' She smiled peaceably, walking back into the bedroom. ‘You don't have to justify it. I understand, I've seen it before. It's what you're driven to do.'

He regarded her, the defensiveness draining from his shoulders. ‘Who else do you know like that?'

‘My father. My sister.' She shrugged. Nothing but work mattered to them—for different reasons. Her father because he sought the fame and the fortune and he'd do almost anything to get it. Her sister simply because she loved it. She loved losing herself in a character, into someone else's life. Even better that the someone else wasn't even real. Work was everything to them, coming ahead of anything and any
one
else. Even family. That was the way it was.

Caitlin had thought she was okay with it. Over it. Until the Dominic mess. Until she'd been pilloried by the press and her family still hadn't stepped up to defend her. That had just ripped the scab off the old wound. Now she found it festered.

Now she would never put herself in that situation again. No relationship, no man was worth being second to anything else in his life—certainly not career. No matter how heroic he might be.

But curiosity mounted as Caitlin sorted through the clothes in her suitcase—why was James so driven? The guy had money, she knew that. Hell, he probably wouldn't have to work a day in his life if he didn't actually want to. So what made him want to so much?

‘What led you into it,' she asked. ‘You always wanted to be a doctor?'

‘I guess.' He leaned against the wall, watching as she dressed. ‘One of those games we all play as kids, right?'

‘But why search and rescue specifically?'

‘I did a stint in emergency field work as part of my training and it just fit. I knew that's what I wanted to do. I made sure that's what I did. All my training from then on was directed that way.'

His reply was so glib, she was sure it was the PR answer again. The one he'd given many times when all those people wanted his story after that landslide photo. If she searched on his iPad she'd probably find the quote almost verbatim in one of those articles spotlighting him. But it didn't seem to fully explain that deep drive—was there another reason he was compelled to work so much?

He walked up to her, suddenly turning her to face him.

‘Let's go sightseeing.' He framed her face, tilting it so she couldn't look away from him. ‘You can't hide—it's like you've let them put you in a prison. You shouldn't. You're not guilty.'

She shook her head. ‘It's not that.'

He ran his hand down her spine, as if he were soothing a spitting cat. ‘Then what?' He drew her close so she leant against his body.

She didn't want to resist. How could she? But she might make him pay. ‘Okay. I'll come out with you. But there can be no PDA.'

He tugged her hair so she lifted her face. He stared at her in disbelief. ‘You're
that
paranoid?'

‘The photographers might not know me. But they know
you
. You're like royalty here.'

She saw the denial flare in his eyes. ‘You're worried about being photographed with me?'

She nodded.

He threw his head back and laughed. ‘That's ridiculous.'

She put her palms on his chest and pushed, freeing herself. ‘It is not.'

‘It is.' He laughed again. ‘But okay. If that's what it'll take, then no PDA. You want to walk five paces behind me as well?'

‘Not a bad idea,' she said loftily. ‘That way I can check out your butt.'

His eyes glittered wickedly. ‘Come on. Come with me now and I'll let you do a lot more than check out my butt later.'

It wasn't quite five paces behind, but Caitlin did linger just a little as they walked outside the apartment building, purely to check out his mighty fine butt.

* * *

James walked up to the yellow taxi idling at the kerb. Tired but determined to do this for Caitlin. The right thing. She couldn't spend the next fortnight doing nothing but having sex with him. Much as he'd love exactly that. Except he knew he wouldn't—if he lay still too long, thoughts began to bug him.

He bent his head to look through the window and grinned at the driver who'd picked him up from the airport only a couple of days before. Oddly, it felt like a lifetime ago. Life had changed. ‘Thanks so much,' he said.

‘Any time.'

‘I might need you for a couple of days,' James warned.

‘No problem. Where you want to go first?'

‘I'll tell you in a minute.' James straightened and turned to find Caitlin. She was just in front of the entrance to the building, studiously—obviously—ogling him. He laughed. ‘Come on, then, woman.' He winked.

‘We're going by taxi?' She looked pretty damn happy at the sight of the yellow car.

‘I massaged those sore feet of yours last night, remember?' James teased. ‘I'm saving myself from the task tonight.'

She reached up on tiptoes and murmured in his ear. ‘Maybe I'll require a massage anyway.'

Before he could wrap an arm around her waist and hussle her back home pronto, she stepped out of reach and opened the cab door, sliding inside.

James took a moment to inhale deep and tell himself he could manage the no-PDA thing. Climbing into the cab after her, he chuckled inwardly at her outrageous demands. The woman who'd been so tart and scathing that first night sure had a naughty streak. He loved it. Loved that she felt free enough with him to release it.

He knew she didn't usually. Hell, she was blushing now, even though she'd said her little vixen bit already. But it was because of the deal they'd struck—an unlimited, evanescent fling. It gave them both a kind of freedom.

‘So where are we going?' She turned towards him as she asked, her eyes alert, face shining.

His tour-guide trick had been a damn good idea. The no PDA thing? Not so much.

James shifted on the seat and tried to convince himself that all good things came to those who waited. ‘First we're going on a drive by. Edited highlights. So you get an overview of the island without destroying your feet. Let's start with a trip around the park.'

The taxi driver pulled out into the traffic.

‘James.'

Uh-oh, he didn't like the edge in her voice. He glanced across and saw her gnawing the edge of her lip. ‘Problem?'

She nodded. ‘Money. Paying for this.'

He drew a breath and lied. ‘The cab is free, right?' he called to the driver.