White Heat (22 page)

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Authors: Cherry Adair

Tags: #Contemporary, #General, #Romance, #Fiction, #Suspense, #Romantic Suspense Fiction, #Terrorism, #Counterterrorist Organizations

BOOK: White Heat
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She found the crisp hair on his chest sexy as hell, and wanted to rub her face in it. Tamping down the pang of lust, she gave him a stern look. “There are two people back there, and two more people in the cockpit,” she mumbled, snugging the soft blanket around her throat as her lids fluttered.
And f they
weren’t
there, I’d be sitting astride your lap right this second, with you deep inside me.
The image of it was so clear in her mind’s eye she had to suppress a little groan of need.

“I know that.” His voice was a low rumble as he dimmed the lights from the control panel on the arm of his chair.

She smiled at his deep, low-pitched voice. She loved the sound of—Her eyes shot open as he hauled her, pillow, blanket and all, onto his chair beside him in a preemptive strike that left her breathless. “What are you doing?”

Pushing his chair back to lay flat, he wrapped her in his arms, tucking her against his naked chest, the soft blanket covering them both. His warm breath fanned her damp hair. “I told you I’d protect you, didn’t I?”

And who’s going to protect me from you?
“Where’s your gun?”

“Wanna touch it?”

She smacked him lightly on the chest. “What are you protecting me from? Bedbugs?” Kissing the steady beat of his heart, she tucked her arm around his waist under the blanket.

“I’d hate anything to hurt this beautiful bottom of yours.” Slipping his hand under the elastic waistband of her borrowed shorts, Max palmed one butt cheek, stroking it with his big warm hand. There was a devilish glint in his eyes. “My God, your skin is soft. I think there’s a broken spring in that chair. Very dangerous to sweet, tender asses. You’d better share mine.”

“Your sweet tender ass?” she mocked, huffing out a weak laugh. “I think there’s a spring loose in your
head.
You
know
we can’t …”

“Shhh,” he said softly, tilting her face up. “Close your eyes.” Gently he trailed his lips across her cheekbone, then brushed each eyelid with a tender kiss. “You have the prettiest eyes,” he murmured. “Big and brown, and far too damned trusting.” His lips drifted down to hers. “Your mouth could drive a man mad just looking at it. This little dip right here”—his teeth closed lightly on her upper lip, and the sensation of his teeth on her skin made Emily’s temperature rise, and her heart start beating a little faster— “is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Increasing the pressure of his mouth on hers, Max kissed her, long and slow and deep, until she melted in his arms and forgot that they were on a very small aircraft with four other people.

Warm and sleepy and turned on by his hand stroking her bottom and his mouth on hers, Emily let herself rise and fall with the tide of needs and eddies drifting through her body.

Eyes closed, she felt the delicate graze of the fingertips of his other hand brush her cheek as he kissed her slowly and thoroughly. His fingers trailed down her throat, pausing to feel the rapid beat there. His hand traveled to her breast, teasing her nipple through the thin cotton of her T-shirt, and she arched into his hand.

The hand cupping her breast moved down her midriff, causing all sorts of sparks to wake up body parts that had thought they were ready to sleep. His hand felt cool on her hot skin as he slipped past the barrier of her shorts and traced lazy patterns on her belly.

“I’d dream about your little dolphins,” Max murmured thickly against her temple as he slid his fingers around her midriff and stroked the dolphins leaping over her belly button. She automatically drew up her knee to grant him better access. The movement made her exquisitely aware of the dampness between her thighs, and the rapid beat of her heart which she felt all over her body.

His nostrils flared, and she knew he scented her need. “Sometimes when I can’t sleep,” he said thickly as he continued to trail his fingers over her increasingly more sensitive skin. “I’d count these little guys over and over, imagining how many times I’d have to kiss each one before I’d drop off.” His fingers slid lower to tangle in the damp curls at the apex of her thighs. Her breath caught, and she shifted, spreading her knees a little. With a little moan of greed, she arched her hips as his fingers delved between the damp folds, stroking deeply. She shuddered with the sweet pleasure of his intimate touch and lifted her mouth to brush her lips over his slowly, tasting him with the tip of her tongue.

Gripping her hair in his clenched fists, he covered her mouth with his, tasting and touching her until she shuddered. She had to pull her lips away from his to bury her face against his neck as his thumb drove her to the very edge.

She contracted around his fingers pushing deep inside her. Her hips rocked as he withdrew, then thrust again, leaving her hanging on a sharp precipice of need. Every time she thought she’d tip right over for a free fall, Max paused, keeping her poised on a razor sharp edge of pleasure again and again, until she couldn’t catch her breath, and all her senses seemed amplified and sharpened.

She arched her hips off his lap, pressing her mons into his palm. “Max …”

The climax rolled through her body in an avalanche of pure pleasure. The moment seemed to go on forever, as Max’s clever fingers and kisses kept her riding the rush of sensations for what felt like an eternity

A last wave crashed through her body making her shake and moan. He slid one hand up her back to cradle her head against his chest, while his fingers glided slowly out of her ultra sensitive folds, making her arch and shudder again.

“Christ, you’re responsive.”

“If I had my hand in a corresponding position on you, I guarantee, I’d have your undivided attention, too.” The hard length of his penis pushed against her hip as she sprawled beside him.

“I look forward to it, but I’m afraid you’d fall asleep mid-stroke.”

Sleep pulled at her, and her jaw popped as she yawned. “Rain check?”

In a few hours they’d say good-bye in front of his team members when they landed in Denver, and she might very well never see him again. Her chest felt tight. But she knew it was a good thing. She and Max had nothing in common but sexual attraction. A boatload of sexual attraction, but that wasn’t enough to build a future on. And then, she thought, as her brain started shutting down, there was his job.

Compatible in bed. It had to be good enough.

She felt as limp as overcooked spaghetti. Limp and satiated and bonelessly relaxed. Max played with her hair which relaxed her even more.

“Everytime I look at you,” he murmured. “I’m staggered by just how damn beautiful you are. I know you’ve got incredible talent, but did you ever think that you don’t have to work as hard as you do?” He gently massaged her scalp with the pads of his fingers. Which would’ve felt wonderful, if she’d been stone deaf.

“What you do, while amazing, is too solitary. You’re so beautiful, why do you choose to isolate yourself when you could surround yourself with people who adore you?”

A little sleep dissipated as he hit her Achilles’ heel. “Adore
me?
Adore what I look like, you mean. And of course, how it makes
them
look when they’re seen with me.” She wasn’t thinking about herself. She was thinking about her mother. “My appearance isn’t who I am, Max. It’s not a skill, or a talent.”

“Beautiful women tend to choose more public professions, that’s all,” he murmured, stroking her nape and causing goose bumps on her skin. “Hell, you could easily have done what your mother did—become a model.”

Become a crackhead junkie who’d spent most of the past twenty years in and out of rehab, and in between sleeping with anyone who told her she was beautiful?

She stiffened. “Exactly.”

Max had just done what every other man she’d gone out with had done. Made a big freaking deal about her appearance. As if a pretty face was all there was of her.
Good,
Emily thought, annoyed to find tears stinging her eyes.
I’m glad that’s all he sees. Because he’s just put this whole sex thing back into perspective.

“I thought you were on your way to see your mother in Seattle. Don’t you two get along?” he asked lazily, stroking her back. “I imagine with two such beautiful women you must’ve had a complicated relationship.”

She laughed; it sounded rusty and hurt her chest. “You could say that. First of all there were three of us. My sister Susanna is nine months older than I am.”

She rested her head against the curve of his shoulder. A perfect fit. But she felt brittle, and somehow unprotected lying practically naked and vulnerable in his arms while she dragged out her family for show-and-tell.

“I love my mother. I do. But the line between parent and kid is pretty blurred with us. She was one of the first supermodels. The cameras loved her. And while they were on, she was happy. Unfortunately she’s an arid sponge when it comes to getting attention. It’s never enough. No matter that they called her ‘The Beauty.’ There was always someone younger, or prettier, or smarter. They always got more callbacks than she did. More jobs, better jobs. So she started to drink when she didn’t get the job. And then she started taking drugs here and there. And then she’d look and feel worse, so she’d take more.”

His fingers tangled in her hair as he listened, combing through the damp strands in a rhythmic caress that was as soothing as it was arousing. Emily was driven to reveal this part of herself to him, even if she wasn’t sure what underlying emotions caused her to do so. Usually she did her best not to bring up her family.

“Where was your father in all this?” His breath was warm on her forehead. Sensation and need rippled through her. So easy for him. So complex and foolish for her. She inhaled the familiar scent of his skin. No soap smell, just Max. Just the smell of his skin made her melt. Crazy. Stupid. Dangerous.

She rarely mentioned her family because it made her feel a little too exposed, a little too vulnerable. A little too defensive. She had no idea why she was telling Max of all people.

“Suz and I had different fathers. And to be honest, I’m not sure Mom
knew
who our fathers were. According to her, we were both mistakes. She did her best, God only knows. But by the ages often and eleven Suz and I were already cooking all the meals and trying to take care of each other while Mom was sleeping, or working, or dating. We were pretty much left to our own devices most of the time.”

She didn’t mention that they had been terrified that the authorities would realize that there was frequently no adult home with them for weeks at a time. They were always at school on time, made their own lunches, and wrote their own excuse notes. If nothing else, they’d both grown up independent women.

“Daniel was a godsend for me. He convinced my mother that I was seriously talented. And because, I think, they were sleeping together, she did whatever he suggested. So I stayed in Italy and went to boarding school, and she went back to Seattle. Daniel paid for my education, an amazingly generous thing to do considering his short-lived affair with my mother.”

Her mother’s finances at that time went from insanely high to crying because she couldn’t pay the rent, flat-out broke.

“Social services went and got Suz. She was almost thirteen by then. She went to live with a foster family who adored, and eventually adopted, her. She and my mother didn’t get on very well, and they don’t have much of a relationship. Suz is smart and resourceful, and coincidentally, more beautiful than our mother, and boy, my mother does
not
like competition.”

“How’s your mother doing now?”

Emily shrugged. “She’s in and out of rehab. In, at the moment. At least she’s making an attempt to get clean and sober. Or that’s what I try to convince myself. But truthfully, I think she considers it a spa. When life gets too difficult she checks herself in. They make a fuss over her and stabilize her with meds, and for a few weeks she’s really happy.”

She rubbed her cheek on the crisp hair of Max’s chest, eyes closed. “I still feel guilty that I’ve made a life for myself far away from her. But it took several years of therapy to realize that I couldn’t fix her. Nor was it my job. It was hard, but eventually I had to let go. She sighed and shifted.

“So she’s in Seattle. My sister’s in Boston. Married, with a houseful of amazing children, and a husband who loves her. Not for her looks, but because she’s an incredible wife and mother. And I’m in Florence. End of story.”

“That’s a hell of a story. But my God, look at what you’ve accomplished by yourself.”

“Thanks in large part to your father.”

“He had nothing to do with your talent,” he said, his voice filled with admiration. “Everything you accomplished, you pretty much did on your own. Look at you. You’re beautiful, talented, wealthy, and at the top of your career. Yet with all that you could easily have made your fortune the easy way. In front of a camera, instead of behind an easel.”

She pushed away from him and sat up. He’d missed the point. Although she was too damn tired to know what the point was herself. “I’d like to stretch out. I’ll be more comfortable over here.” She managed to switch seats with her dignity intact by hauling the blanket with her. She punched the pillow into shape and crammed it under her cheek.

He gave her a searching look. “Are you okay?”

Only a man over his head and unaware of his imminent demise could ask such a bloody stupid question. “Are you kidding? I’m relaxed and sexually satisfied and ready to sleep. Thanks, Max. That was better than any sleeping pill.” She rolled over because she could not look at him for one more second through the film of angry, stupid, stupid,
stupid
tears.

“I don’t want anything to hurt you, Emily. Anything or anyone.”

The vise around her chest pressed down on her aching heart.
“You
won’t hurt me,” she said, reading him loud and clear. And he wouldn’t. As long as he didn’t realize that she was falling a little more in love with him every hour they were together. She wrapped the blanket around her like armor.

“I didn’t mean—Yeah. I guess I did. I’m married to my work. T-FLAC is everything I want. Will always want. But God only knows you’ve thrown me a curveball. I
like
you. You’re funny and tough and damned courageous. Not to mention talented and beautiful. You’re the whole package ….”

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