Sparring Partners (19 page)

This was something else entirely. Something
vital and base in its carnality.

The air in the room changed from maybe to
certain without so much as a kiss. Henry disrobed, placing each
piece of folded clothing on the chair beside the bed. His shoes
went under the chair, and after checking the safety, he placed his
gun under her pillow. He didn't make a show of it, all of his
movements were efficient, unhurried and without pretense. Whether
he intended to or not, Henry was telegraphing loud and clear that
it wasn't a painter she was taking to her bed.

When he finished he didn't try to undress
her, he simply stood for a moment letting her get used to his size
before pulling back the light summer quilt and worn cotton sheets
and climbing in. Henry didn't bother covering himself as he settled
on his side, one arm cocked, hand behind his ear, holding his
head.

It didn't take her long to slip out of her
halter dress and sandals. The thin strip of silk she put on this
morning to feel empowered now left her feeling silly, although the
dampness she felt earlier hadn't lessened. Neither had her need to
straddle this man and ride him until she was too exhausted to take
the lead.

She slid into the bed beside him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Henry shifted, giving Finn access to the
bed. Queen size was plenty big enough for Finn when she was alone,
which was almost always, but seemed incredibly small at this
moment. Before her lay Henry, naked, naughty, larger than
Schwarzenegger on steroids and twice as menacing.

Finn wanted to wrap herself around his
tree-trunk thighs and sink onto not-so-little Henry with a need
that forced the breath from her lungs in short, quick, painful
breaths.

Henry kept his strength in check, she hadn't
seen him use it as a weapon but she knew by the way he moved that
if he did, the recipient wouldn't be going anywhere without a
gurney. She wasn't afraid. Not of him. Not now. Not ever. Henry
moved her alright, but he didn't scare her, not physically.

Finn slid into the small space he made for
her. His arms came around her and he whispered in her ear as he
pulled her flush to his steaming skin. "I was wondering how long
you were going to stand there looking hotter than Pamela Anderson
could. That's not enough for me. I'm too old to shoot my load just
looking. I need to touch..." His warm breath on her ear caused an
involuntary shiver. Henry laughed low and rich, a purely satisfied
male sound. "...and taste...and smell all of you."

Finn rolled over straddling him. It left her
open. Vulnerable. Yet powerful in a purely feminine way. Reaching
over to the table next to the bed she opened the drawer and pulled
out two condoms. She placed one between her front teeth and set the
other under her pillow.

"Is that wishful thinking?" Henry said
jerking his head toward her pillow.

Finn took the foil wrapper from her lips and
opened it with her teeth. Throwing the wrapper across the room she
took the condom and fitted it over his thick erection with a grace
that bespoke familiarity with the process. It barely fit. His penis
had a slight bend to it she found fascinating. It bobbed at her
when she blew on its tip.

"There's nothing wishful about this bad boy.
Wistful. Wondrous. Whopper. Certainly." Finn licked her lips and
raised her eyes from little bad boy to big bad boy. "That part of
you takes wish to done deal."

The sides of Henry's eyes crinkled but he
didn't offer a smile, he growled instead and rolled her under him.
His biceps bulged as he held himself just far enough away from her
to allow her to breathe and feel safely surrounded at the same
time. She thought he'd plunge into her. She expected it. Wanted it.
And was mildly disappointed when he gently brushed her hair from
her brow looking deeply, seriously into her eyes.

"This isn't a game for me. I won't be your
toy, Finn. You won't be able to put me away when we're done here no
matter how many condoms we go through." He bent closer and bit her
earlobe before softly blowing to make it better. "Although I may
let you play with me whenever the mood strikes you. As long as it
strikes you often."

He didn't give Finn a chance to respond. He
kissed her instead. Slowly. Thoroughly. And with more depth of
emotion than she could remember feeling. He was making her toes
sweat and he just kept kissing her as if they didn't have to ever
leave her bed.

He touched every part of her until every
nerve ending sang at a pitch so high even Reed's deerhounds
couldn't hear it. Only when she started to shake did Henry wrap his
hand around his pulsing penis and guide it into her. She was so
ready even his enormous size didn't hurt. Instead she consumed him,
hugging him with her wet walls, drawing his heat as deeply into her
as she could take. He pulsed and the fullness of him stretched her
to that luscious spot just short of pain.

And then he rocked her, sinking even deeper.
Finn's world exploded in bursts of light and the sweet sound of
champagne corks on the Forth of July.

"Oh. My. God."

Henry rocked again and grunted in the way
men do when they empty their heart and souls into another, if only
for a moment.

He rested his forehead on hers before
rolling away. Henry disappeared into her small bathroom. When he
came back to her bed he pulled her to him without a word and held
her spoon fashion with his hand over her heart.

In that moment right before sleep Finn
realized Henry gave her exactly what she told him she wanted.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Saturday morning meant weapons training.

Reed set her alarm to go off at six-thirty
so she could pack her gi bag and weapons – it took three trips to
load them all into the car – and still have enough time to eat,
shower and get Jesse ready too. This morning, however, she awoke
with a tree trunk across her chest pinning her to the bed.

She'd almost convinced herself that she
dreamt the orgasms that populated her in and out of her sleep. The
wine helped with that, but the snoring man attached to the tree
trunk debunked that idea. If only debunking him was as easy as
crushing her illusions of a dream lover who vanished with the
alarm.

She tried shaking him. Nothing.

She kicked him. He groaned irritably and
threw one leg over both of hers. Now she could barely move. So she
did what any self-respecting ninja woman would do under the
circumstances.

She bit him.

"
Ouch
." He roared like a lion with a
thorn, bolting upright, rubbing his arm as he glared sleepily at
her. "Why did you do that?"

Reed shrugged. "It was the most efficient
way to get you off me."

"You could have asked."

"You're right. I could have asked. But then
I would have had to be able to drag enough air into my lungs to
speak. Your arm cutting off my breathing kinda precluded that."

"You could have given me a nudge or
something." He grumbled.

"I shook you and when that didn't work I
kicked you." Reed cocked her head at him wondering just how awful
her breath smelled this morning. She hadn't brushed her teeth last
night. She hoped they weren't stained purple from the wine, but
they probably were. Great. This kind of thing is exactly why she
didn't do sleepovers.

"You're a grouch in the morning."

"You'd be grouchy too if I bit you."

Reed looked down at her chest. She had a
hickey right above her left areola. She hadn't had a hickey in
close to two decades. The man was old enough to know better. So she
thought, with shake of her head, was she. At least she had been
from fifteen until last night.

"Looks like the bite you gave me is going to
last a lot longer than the one I gave you."

Now that she wasn't pinned to the bed Reed
jumped out and made her way to her closet. On her way she grabbed
his shirt and threw it on. The posterior view of her wasn't one she
wanted advertised in the full light of day. The morning after isn't
always as good as one might hope from the night before. Still, Reed
could feel Jordon's gaze following her, burning through the thin
layer of cotton at her back. Maybe he didn't get the memo about
curvy bottoms being out of style.

Reed pulled her weapons bag from her closet
and began filling it. Two sets of sai, a pair of kama, two sets of
tonfa and her wrist wrap made their way into her bag. Her bo at six
feet long couldn't fit into her weapons bag so Reed leaned it
against the wall and glanced over her shoulder at the digital
display on her alarm clock: 6:40.

Time to go.

"If you're riding with me you'd better get a
move on. Black-belt class is at eight. Weapons at nine." Reed made
her way to the bathroom, longing to brush her teeth and shower. Her
disloyal body wanted that too, only it wanted tall, dark and
handsome washing her back. Maybe her front too.

"There's room for two, Mr. Bennett. Come
dance in the raindrops with me."

...

Come dance in the raindrops with me.

Reed wasn't likely to give him that
invitation after she found out about William's requirements for
keeping his job at B.H. It was just a matter of time until she did,
especially now that his mother and William decided to insert
themselves in his life.

Jordon sat up and ran both hands through his
hair. He wanted to wield some weapons, preferably against a photo
of William, almost as much as he wanted Reed's arms around him,
pulling him close as he sank into her.

He could live without pounding an image of
William until his frustration and anger at the arbitrariness of
William's rules subsided. He wasn't sure he wanted to live without
dancing in the rain drops with Reed at least once.

Jordon got out of bed and headed toward the
sound of warm man-made rain. It was time to dance. He'd worry about
arming himself later.

The sound of paving trucks made later
impossible.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Finn met Reed at the bottom of the stairs
with steaming herbal tea in an over sized mug Jesse gave Reed for
Mother's Day. A giant squished bug on one side and jagged letters
on the other philosophizing,
Sometimes you're the windshield;
sometimes you're the bug.

It was looking like a bug kind of day.

"What's going on?" Reed asked taking the
tea, wishing she'd never let Finn talk her into giving up coffee.
Caffeine, good. Rooibos, not quite the same kick.

Finn raised her eyebrows and her shoulders.
"Apparently we're getting a new driveway and wheelchair ramps."

"I thought we were broke."

"We are."

"Then why are we doing this now? I thought
the bank was hounding you for cash since the appraisal came in at
less than what we owe."

"They are. And 'we' aren't doing
anything."

Reed set her tea down on the hallway table.
It was Charlie's table from some manor house in England where
Shakespeare supposedly wrote something, probably a grocery list.
She grabbed a coaster from the drawer and placed it under the
teacup. The table was hideous, but Charlie loved it. She wasn't
going to be the one who made rings on the wood. Charlie would have
her polishing it for a year.

"So what's going on?"

"You asked, and daddy-war-bucks is making it
happen." Finn looked at her watch. "Less than twelve hours and
Cinderella's pumpkin is already turning into a gilded
carriage."

"You're mad at me? What did I do?"

Finn seemed to crack and she got that
worried look in her eyes, like she did when she was sure Reed had
just stepped in major doo-doo that wasn't likely to wash off
without leaving remnants of its stink on Reed's skin. But it wasn't
until Finn enveloped her in a cinnamon scented hug that she truly
began to worry. She repeated her question.

"What did I do, Finn? Please. Tell me."

Finn pulled back, tears dampening her clear
blue eyes. "It's bad, baby-girl." She said, still holding Reed's
shoulders, making Reed feel small and vulnerable.

"You married a billionaire."

Reed just stared at her aunt, wondering what
was really going on that had Finn so worried.

Finn gave Reed a shake. "Not just any
billionaire, you married William Bennett's nephew, heir apparent to
B.H. Holdings." Finn shook her again, this time jarring Reed's
teeth. "Arguably the second richest man in the world."

Reed's heart skipped a beat. Sweat began to
pool in her still damp hair. Little stars of light appeared in her
peripheral vision and the air in her lungs whooshed out. Her
trachea seemed to lock and she couldn't get any air in. This wasn't
real. It couldn't be.

"This is a disaster."

Reed didn't respond. She couldn't speak. Her
line of sight was fading as the stars made their way inward. And
then she caught sight of Jordon on the stairs. The grim lines on
his face and his cold steel gaze let her know he'd heard most of
what Finn told her. She'd never seen him look so empty. So
menacing. So heartless.

Finn shook her again and the stars receded.
Air came pouring into her lungs, punishing like a tidal wave on the
soft sand of her chest. Reed pulled away and straightened to her
full height. A five-foot-three tower of power.

"Say something." Finn implored.

Jordon's jaw clenched, Reed could hear his
teeth grinding and see his hands turning white where they gripped
the railing. She ignored him and slowly bent to retrieve her
weapons bag. The bag with her gi, pads and wrist guard was already
in the car. She couldn't even look up the stairs. Not when she
could still smell him on her skin. Reed doubted any amount of
showering was going to wash him from her pores. Even if she could
purge his scent, it wouldn't help erase Jordon from her. Not when
she could still taste him.