Falling For Rachel - Stanislaskis 3 Part 11

"No. I'm fine." Gripping the edge of the counter, she stared hard at the wall. "Thanks for the first aid."

"My pleasure." d.a.m.n it, he was stalling when he should be out the door.

Away from her. "Maybe we can have an early dinner one night this week."

She pressed her lips together. The way his hands were rubbing up and down her arms made her want to whimper. "Sure. I'll check my schedule."

He turned her around. He couldn't be sure if she moved into his arms or if he'd pulled her there, but he was holding her. Her lips were parting for his. "I'll call you."

"Okay." Her eyes fluttered closed as the kiss deepened.

"Soon." He felt the breath backing up in his lungs as she molded against him.

"Um-hmm..." As his tongue danced over hers, she gave a quick sigh that caught in the middle.

He tore his mouth away to nibble along her jaw. "One more thing."

"Yes?"

"I'm not leaving." "I know." Her arms curled around his neck as he lifted her. "It's just chemistry."

"Right." Struggling to remember her bruises, he rained soft kisses over her face.

"Nothing serious." She shuddered, nipping at his neck. "I can't afford to get involved. I have plans."

"Nothing serious," he agreed, blood pounding in his head, in his loins.

He jerked open a door and found himself facing a closet. "Where's the d.a.m.n bedroom?"

"What?" She focused, realized he'd carried her out of the kitchen. "This is it. The couch..." She nipped his ear. "It pulls out. I can..."

"Never mind," he managed, and settled for the rug.

Chapter Seven

He ripped her blouse. It wasn't only pa.s.sion that made him grab and tear.

He couldn't bear to see her wear it another moment, to see that vivid blue stained with spots of blood.

Yet the sound of it, of the silk rending beneath his fingers, and her gasp of shocked excitement, spread fire through his gut.

"The first time I saw you..." His breath was already short and fast when he tossed the mangled blouse aside. "From the first minute, I wanted this. Wanted you."

"I know." She reached for him, amazed at how deep and ripe a need could be. "Me, too. It's crazy," she said against his mouth. "Insane." Her skin trembled as he tugged the straps of her chemise from her shoulders to replace them with impatient lips. "Incredible."

Glorying in it, she arched against him when he took her b.r.e.a.s.t.s in those greedy, rough-palmed hands. Then his mouth-oh, his mouth, hot and seeking-closed over her to tug and suckle. Hurry, was all she could think, hurry, hurry, and her nails sc.r.a.ped heedlessly up his sides as she dragged his sweater over his head.

Flesh to flesh was what she wanted. Skin already hot, already damp. The feel of his lips against her thundering heart had her locking her fists in his hair, pressing him closer. She fretted for more. Even as the storm built to a crisis point inside her, she met, she ached, and she demanded.

Her fingers dug into his broad shoulders when he slid down, setting off hundreds of tiny eruptions by streaking hungry, openmouthed kisses down her torso. Then back, quickly back, to drown her in desire with his lips on hers. He couldn't stop himself from taking. No matter that he had once imagined making slow, tortuously slow, love to her on some huge, soft bed. The desperation of what was overpowered any fantasy of what might have been.

She possessed him. Obsessed him. No mystical siren could have stolen his mind and soul more completely.

A b.u.t.ton popped from her skirt as he fought to drag it down her hips. He thought he might go mad if he didn't rip aside all obstacles, if he didn't see her. All of her.

Half-crazed, he peeled off her stockings, and the delicate lace that had secured them. Somewhere through the roaring in his brain he heard her throaty cry when his fingers brushed against her thigh. Fighting to hold back, he knelt between her legs, filling himself with the sight of her, slim and golden and naked, her hair tousled around her face, her eyes dark and heavy. She reared up, too desperate to wait even another moment. Her mouth closed avidly over his, and her fingers tore at the snap of his jeans.

"Let me," she said in a husky whisper. "No." He slipped a hand behind her back to support her, and brought the other down to cover the source of heat. "Let me."

The volcano he'd imagined erupted at the first touch. Her body shuddered, quaked. And he watched, impossibly aroused, as her head fell back. Not surrender. Even in his own delirium, he understood that she was not surrendering. It was abandonment, the pure, unleashed quest for pleasure. He gave her more, and gave to himself, stroking that velvet fire, letting his tongue slide over hers in a delicious, matching rhythm.

How could she have known that desire could be dark and deadly? Or that she, always so sure, always so cautious, would throw reason to the winds for more of the dangerous delights? No, not just more. All of them, she thought dizzily. All of him. She would have all. Locking her legs around his hips, she took him into her.

She heard his gasp-the first one ended with a groan. She saw his eyes, cobalt now, and fixed on hers as he s.h.i.+fted to fill her. A sword to the hilt. Then he moved, and she with him. Lost in the whirlwind, she heard nothing but, the screaming of her own heart.

"The bigger they are," Rachel murmured some time later.

"Hmm?"

Smiling to herself, she lifted one of Zack's hands, let it go and watched it drop limply to the rug. "The harder they fall." She rolled over and propped her elbows on his chest so that she could study him. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought he was sleeping-or unconscious. His breathing had slowed-somewhat-but his eyes were still closed. It had been some time since he'd moved a single muscle. "You know, Muldoon, you look like you went ten rounds with the champ."

His lips curved. It was about all he had the energy for. "You pack a h.e.l.l of a punch, sugar."

As a matter of principle, she bit his shoulder. "Don't call me'sugar.' But, since you mention it, you didn't do too badly yourself."

He opened one eye. "Too badly? I melted you down to a gooey puddle."

True enough, she admitted, but she wouldn't stroke his ego by agreeing.

"I'll say that you have a certain unrefined style that is strangely appealing." She trailed a fingertip down his chest. "But the simple fact is, I had to carry you." That got his other eye open, she thought with satisfaction. "Not that I minded. I didn't have anything else pressing to do this afternoon."

"You carried me?" "Metaphorically speaking."

His opinion of that was short and rude. "Want to take me on again?

Champ?"

She fluttered her lashes. "Any time. Any place."

"Here and now." She was laughing as he rolled her over, but the laughter ended on a hiss of pain when he b.u.mped her bruised cheek. "Klutz," she said as he jerked back and swore. "I'm sorry."

"Come on, Zack." She smiled, wanting to lighten the concern in his eyes and bring back the laughter. "I was only kidding."

Ignoring that, he turned her head for a closer look at the mark on her cheek. "I should have put ice on that. He didn't break the skin, but it's..." She could feel the tension hardening his shoulders. Instead of trying to stroke it away, she pinched him. "Listen, Buster, I come from tough stock. I got worse than that wrestling with my brothers."

"If he ever gets out-"

"Stop it." Very firmly she put her hands on either side of his face. "Don't say anything you might regret. Remember, I'm an officer of the court."

"I wouldn't regret it." He tugged her upward until she was sitting beside him. They were circled, he realized, by the tattered remains of her clothes. "And I don't regret this-except for the unrefined style."

She let out an impatient breath. "Look, if you can't take a joke, learn to."

"Wait until I'm finished before you swipe at me, okay? I swear, you come on faster than a typhoon." He tucked her hair back and kissed her once, hard. "I wasn't going to stay. Not today. I figured a bout of hot s.e.x wasn't the best encore after you'd been strangled."

"I wasn't-"

He interrupted her. "Close enough. You know that I wanted you however I could get you, Rachel. I sure as h.e.l.l didn't make a secret of i t.

But it occurs to me that you were upset and vulnerable and I took advantage of that."

She had to wait nearly a full minute before she could speak. "Don't make me mad at you, Muldoon. And don't insult me."

"All I'm trying to say is... I don't know what the h.e.l.l I'm trying to say,"

he muttered, and tried again. "Except-well, maybe I could have pulled that stupid couch out instead of using the floor."

Eyes narrowed, she leaned her face close to his. Her eyes were the color of gold doubloons, and just as exotic. "I like the floor. Get it?" He was starting to feel better. Zack knew that tending to fragility was out of his league. But this tough, hard-headed woman was just his style.

Watching her, he picked up her ruined blouse. "I ripped your clothes off."

"Proud of yourself?"

He tossed it aside. "Yeah. I can wait, if you want to put some more on.

Then I can rip them off you again."

She bit the inside of her lip, but didn't quite defeat the smile. "Those were ruined anyway. Next time I'll have to bill you for damages. I'm on a budget."

Chuckling, he flicked her earring with his finger. "I'm crazy about you."

Her heart did a fast skip and shudder. The statement was as romantic as a whispered endearment to her. "Hey, don't get sloppy on me."

"Crazy," he said again, amazed and delighted at the faint blush that stole into her cheeks. "And did I mention that your body makes me wild?''

She was a great deal more comfortable with that. "No." She tilted her head. "Why don't you?"

"From stem to stern," he said, letting his hand speak more eloquently.

"Forward and aft. Port and starboard."

"Oh, G.o.d." She gave an exaggerated sigh and s.h.i.+ver. "Salty talk. I just love a man out of uniform." More than willing to be aroused, she nuzzled her lips against his. "Tell me something, sailor."

"You bet."

"Which part is the stern?"

"I'll show you." Very gently, he touched his lips to her bruised throat.

"Honey, we better pull that couch out before this gets out of hand again." "Okay." There was something unspeakably erotic about a callused finger stroking the underside of her breast. "If you want."

Though the idea had merit, the couch seemed entirely too far away. "Or we could do it later. Tell you what, if you'd say something in Ukrainian, I'd forget we were on the floor. And I promise to make you forget it, too."

"Why should I say something in Ukrainian?"

"Because it drives me insane."

She tilted her head back. "Are you putting me on?"

"Uh-uh." His tongue traced a slow, teasing circle on her lips. "Go ahead.

Say anything."

After a little sigh, she twined her arms around his neck. Against his ear, she murmured the words, then chuckled when he groaned.

"What did it mean?" he demanded, busying himself by nibbling his way along her shoulder.

"Loosely translated? I said you were a big, pigheaded fool."

"Mmm...are you sure you didn't say how much you wanted my body?"

"No. This is how you say that." She told him, but by the time she was finished, he was already obliging her.

In the dark, he drew her close. They had managed, finally, to pull out the bed. Now they were tangled in her sheets. The afternoon had become evening, and evening night.

"I'd like to stay," he said quietly. "I know." It was silly, she thought, to be unhappy that he would go.

She'd always jealously prized her nights alone. "But you can't. It's too soon to trust Nick overnight."

"If things were different..." d.a.m.n, he hadn't expected it to be so frustrating. "I'd like to take you back home with me. I'd like to have you in my bed tonight, wake up with you tomorrow."

"He's not ready for that, either." She wasn't sure she was ready herself.

"Until I have a chance to smooth things out with him, and make him understand, it's probably best if he doesn't know we're..."

What were they? The question ran through both their heads. Neither of them voiced it.

"You're right." The mattress creaked as he s.h.i.+fted. "Rachel, I want to be with you again. It doesn't just have to be in bed." He traced the curve of her cheek. "Or on the floor."