Chapter 5 #2
She searched his eyes, looking for something.
He imagined she was looking for signs of violence.
There was violence in him, sure, always had been, but never toward women or children.
He’d never hurt a woman or a child and was grateful that his military career had never forced him to, because he wouldn’t have been able to.
But beyond that, he could never hurt Nicole Pearce. He’d rather shoot himself in the chest. He just hoped with all his heart that he could keep in control in bed with her, which was another matter.
Control.
He’d spent a lifetime in control of himself and had to grip himself tightly to keep it, because it felt like it was slipping away, like sand through a fist.
Finally her lips turned upward in a faint smile. “Okay,” she said softly.
All right! It was like letting a greyhound out of the gate.
A second later, they were shooting down the road, Sam trying to make it to his apartment as fast as legally possible. He wished he had one of those James Bond cars that could fly.
After twenty minutes at top speed, they were driving along the waterfront, the sun starting to set in a bloom of red on the water. It was a beautiful evening.
With any other woman, he’d remark on that. He’d driven countless women to his house or their house, knowing they were going to have sex, and he’d always been capable of keeping up a light conversation.
He couldn’t get any words out now, though. None. It was like his throat was seized up.
She didn’t seem to have any problems with that. He liked that she was comfortable with silence. She looked out at the vastness of the Pacific, the lower edge of the boiling crimson sun lighting gently on the horizon.
“It’s a lovely evening.”
Sam made a strangled noise in his throat and she turned to look at him.
“Where do you live? Where are we going?”
An ordinary question, deserving of an answer. He was going to scare her again if he couldn’t even freaking talk.
He wrestled with himself, grabbed at a little self-control.
“Coronado Shores. Bought an apartment there over a year ago.” He had to actually think about driving.
Red lights, green lights, brakes. He was a good driver, had a natural feel for it, but right now he had to work hard not to press the accelerator to the floor and the hell with everything.
Probably drive them straight into a goddamned light pole.
“I was essentially a Navy diver and when I moved back here, I knew I wanted to live close to the sea.”
That was part of it, but he didn’t say the whole truth—how he’d spent countless afternoons on the dunes a couple of miles down, spending as much time as possible away from Old Man Hughes’s fists, watching Navy SEALs go through their brutal paces.
He’d longed to be one of them, part of a team of men with all the skills to make the world safer.
Over the years, watching the hard men become harder by the day, he knew what he wanted to do with his life.
And now, in his post-military life, living in Coronado Shores meant he could run along the beach down to the training area and watch the new recruits rolling in the freezing surf and know that there would always be a new generation of men to watch over his country.
Nicole was looking around her with interest as they drove into Coronado Shores, passing by the first of the big condominium complexes. His was the last, La Torre. “I’ve been meaning to explore this part of town but I never got around to it,” she said softly.
“That so?” He was surprised. The area was a popular outing for San Diegans.
She looked at him with a faint smile. “We’ve only been here a year. Since we arrived, I’ve been really busy with Dad and Wordsmith. I’ve barely explored San Diego, just poked around a little, mainly in our part of town and the downtown area near our building.”
“I’ll show the area to you,” Sam offered. “Be happy to. I know the city like the back of my hand.” Afterwards. When we come up for air, whenever that will be.
She looked at him, a sideways dark blue glance that held a slight note of sadness. It hit him like a sledgehammer that she wasn’t really expecting to see him again after tonight.
Oh no, he wasn’t buying that. No way.
That big song and dance about her not having room for a man in her life? Fuck that. Sam would fucking plant himself at her fucking feet if that was what it took to keep seeing her.
“We’re here,” he said, veering sharply into his condo’s driveway, then plunging down into the underground garage. He drove into his slot and killed the engine.
His condo had 140 units and the garage was usually busy 24/7 with people coming and going. Oddly enough, though, right now it was deserted. The only sound was the ticking sound of his engine cooling.
They sat in silence for a moment, looking at each other. Nicole swallowed.
Do something, dickhead, he told himself.
Clutching the wheel tightly, because he didn’t trust himself to touch her, he leaned over to her, slowly. She was still a moment, then moved her head to meet his, hands in her lap. Their lips met over the central console.
The first real taste of her was electric. He felt it down to his balls. The merest taste, a brush of the lips, then, heads tilting, a deeper taste.
Oh God, it was like drinking fine wine. His nose was against her cheek. Close up, she smelled even better. They should just bottle up that smell and call it Desirable Woman. Men would follow women wearing it over cliffs.
He opened his mouth and licked her tongue, feeling her in-drawn breath from his mouth. Oh Jesus. One more second and he’d tilt her seat back, climb on top of her, lift her skirt, rip her panties open and drive into her.
He could barely breathe from the excitement. They had to take it inside. He didn’t give a shit, but presumably Nicole would mind being caught humping in the front seat.
He lifted his head, watching her eyes slowly open, like huge dark blue headlights. She looked dazed, the skin over her cheekbones flushed. She was aroused. Not as much as he was—that would be impossible—but she was definitely turned on.
“Let’s go up.” He was whispering. Everything felt fragile, as if the moment were of glass and could shatter at too loud a sound.
“Okay,” she whispered back.
There was no small talk in the elevator going up. Nicole couldn’t utter a word, her throat was too tightly closed. What was there to say, anyway? She couldn’t have made any small talk that wouldn’t arrow right back to what they were about to do.
Sam Reston stood beside her, looking as if he were about ready to explode, with an enormous erection tenting his pants. Any possible comments she might make about the weather or the building or the food they’d just eaten would be inane.
The very air felt charged, as if something enormous, something dark, surely momentous, possibly dangerous, were coming closer with each second.
This hadn’t actually happened to her before—going to a man’s house on a date having already accepted the idea of sleeping with him.
Ms. Cool always kept her options open, never promising anything.
A number of men who thought going to bed with her was a done deal had been left hanging.
She made no promises and always reserved the right to say no if she became uncomfortable with the idea.
She wasn’t going to say no now. She couldn’t.
It was as if Sam were this…this dark wizard who’d somehow cast a spell.
Cast a glittering net over her so she couldn’t escape, couldn’t go back, could only go forward.
The way an arrow, once loosed from the bow and embedded in flesh, can only be pushed forward, never pulled back.
There was this huge, rushing stream of dark sensuality, flowing directly toward his apartment and his bed, and she was caught in it.
At the thought of being in Sam Reston’s bed, her vagina tightened, hard. Oh God, she was so aroused, she could feel the lips of her sex rubbing together as she moved.
This was absolutely new territory for Nicole. Another country altogether. One so far away from her knowledge of herself she could have been on an alien planet.
She couldn’t say anything. Her voice would betray her agitation. She was barely holding on to a semblance of control, trying to keep her breathing regular, but it was all but impossible when she realized they were minutes away from bed.
At the thought, at the heated images in her head of Sam Reston’s broad, naked shoulders above her, dark eyes staring into hers, long legs twined with hers, her vagina clenched again, her stomach muscles pulling sharply.
Heavens, she was minutes from orgasm, just from riding in the car and walking beside this man! Her heart pounded, her knees were weak.
This was ridiculous. Insane. Nicole was not highly sexed. Even in Geneva, footloose and fancy free, with all the money in the world and a city of diplomats and bankers at her feet, she hadn’t dated that much. Certainly hadn’t slept around.
She was hard to please, easily bored. Cool and in control, always.
Not now. This rough former soldier had somehow shaken her so hard she’d come away from her moorings. She was so filled with nervous excitement she had to stop herself from drumming her fingers on her purse.
She looked up, once, then looked away. He was watching her, dark eyes fixed on her, unwavering in his attention. Most women wanted their dates to pay attention to them, but this was way beyond first-date vibes. He was a soldier, and he was fixed on her as if she were a mission.
She’d never been in an enclosed space where the silence had weight and density. The silence felt like a living thing in the cabin, alive and sinuous, thick, snaking around them like an invisible fog.
It robbed her of breath and, obviously, of all common sense because she found she wanted to jump Sam Reston’s bones. It was hard to think of a more un–Nicole-like thought, but there it was.