Chapter Eighteen #2
“I couldn’t either.” She inhaled the faint, shower-fresh scent that clung to his body. “I thought about knocking on your door.” Heat crawled into her cheeks. “But you beat me to it.”
He let the silence surge, then swallowed hard. “Why?”
Vanka pressed her lips together. Her insides trembled. “I wanted to say that I’m sorry.”
His eyebrows arched. “For what?”
Were men always this obtuse? Dramatically, she waved to herself. “For being an obnoxious twit.”
His deep laughter rolled. “Give me a break, princess.”
“What? Don’t tell me I wasn’t nuttering about when I went upstairs.”
“Tonight—today, everything… It’s been a lot.”
Well, yes… “I haven’t explained myself well.”
Spiker nudged his head toward the door. “You wanna talk somewhere else?”
“Not really.” She scooted farther back and patted the side of her bed. “Sit with me.”
His arms crossed, and he hesitated as if they’d never used a hotel-room bed like a sofa or office worktable.
Vanka drew back. “Oh, get over it. I don’t bite.”
Spiker chuckled. “Yeah, actually, you do.”
Blimey. She walked into that, but she’d disarmed him of his reticence.
He perched on the edge of her bed. Vanka lay on her side and rested her head on her favorite pillow.
From this perspective, Spiker’s stature seemed monumental.
The faint moonlight shone through the blinds, casting a silvery glow over his profile.
He was absolutely, soul-crushingly handsome.
“I wanted to apologize, also,” he finally said.
“You don’t have to.”
“I do.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Asking you to leave before you’re ready… pushing you, really… That’s asking a lot.”
She bit her lip. “Can we forget that for now?”
Spiker agreed and rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s not all I need to say.” He eased onto the bed and rested his head on a pillow so that their gazes locked. “When we were dropping off the Maserati, I told you that I was losing my mind.”
The rough texture of his voice vividly anchored her to this late-night discussion. “I remember.”
“I said that I wasn’t sure if I could tell you why.”
Vanka’s hair rustled against the pillowcase as she nodded.
Spiker broke away and rolled onto his back. For a long spell, he remained silent until finally returning to her again. “It wasn’t that I didn’t know why, Vanka.”
Uncertain anticipation rolled down her spine. It should’ve scared her, but instead left her breathless. His fingers touched her cheek and traced her jaw. The caress created an aching cavern of need that could only be filled if they melted together.
“It was more like…” He pulled his hand away.
“I wasn’t sure what would happen when I did.
” A cool spot remained where his touch was fading like a windblown kiss.
“Things have changed between us. I was losing my mind before I kissed you, and now that I have, I’m losing it again.
I don’t want us to end before we start.”
When he whispered about them, raw and vulnerable, she wondered if she was already in love. “That won’t happen.” Vanka reached for his hand. “We will figure out work. It won’t get in our way.”
He interlaced his hand with hers and held on, as though her promise was wrapped in naivete.
“I promise, we’re on the same page.” She pulled his hand to her chest. “Let me figure out my exit strategy.”
“I can do that.”
“Thank you.” Her lips nuzzled his knuckles with a warm breath of a kiss. “Stay with me tonight.”
Spiker stretched their locked hands over her head and caged them on the far side of her pillow. His long, lean body blanketed her, and his eyes never looked away. “That’s what you want?”
With her free hand, Vanka pulled his shirt up his back. “I want us.”
His lips quirked. He released her hand and held her face to his, taking her mouth in a kiss that set her mind on fire.
His tongue roamed; his lips explored. Breathless curls of desire caught in her throat.
A master of control, he fanned her frenzy and coaxed her into a mind-altering fervor. “You’ve been holding out on me.”
His pleasure-hunting laughter drowned between their mouths, and he kissed her with a ferocity that could sink ships. Spiker trailed his tongue down her neck. His lips skimmed over her pulse and stoked its drumming beat.
Vanka arched into his rock-hard body. Her legs spread and beckoned for him to give her his weight. His hips met hers. His erection pressed between the silky softness of her nightgown and the stone slab of his abdomen like a thick iron length. Her need was blinding.
Vanka pulled at Spiker’s shirt. He stole away, ripping it from his chest, then yanked her silk gown overhead, finally releasing his tight hold on control.
But he stilled, chest heaving. She wriggled for his attention.
His rakish eyes glittered, and returning to the discipline he had briefly released, Spiker lowered his lips to the swell of her breast.
His tongue lashed over her pebbled nipple.
The kiss created pressure that rushed straight to her pussy.
Wet heat readied the neediest part of her body.
Spiker kissed the valley between her breasts.
Cool air rolled over her kiss-savaged nipple until his large hand covered its mound and massaged.
His tongue flicked over her other breast and lashed against the nipple, keeping the same pace—pure bliss.
His mouth trailed to her throat. Vanka groaned for the loss—and for more.
His five-o’clock shadow scratched, and he teased, sliding his hand over her stomach while breathing just behind her ear.
Spiker’s long finger breached her underwear’s silk waist and smoothed over her pubic hair.
Vanka arched for his touch, begging him to explore in the same mind-alerting way he kissed.
He rolled onto his side and took his time, stroking toward her clitoris, gently fondling over her folds, always falling away before he touched where she needed. Every almost-touch brought her to a higher level of need. “You are killing me.”
Her plea earned a nipping kiss, then Spiker stripped her underwear away. “Don’t rush me.”
Before her foggy thoughts managed a retort, he teased her clit. Her arousal slickened his toying fingers, stroking the tight bundle of nerves and spreading her folds like she was his plaything.
The tips of his fingers flirted at her opening. The pressure wasn’t enough, and she quaked with need.
“You are more than I imagined,” he whispered.
It was too much, needing his touch and words.
A desperate cry caught in her throat. His thick, long fingers sank in.
The relief was blinding, and then it was gone.
Vanka opened her eyes, and Spiker locked her gaze, refusing to let go as he withdrew and plunged into her again and again.
She couldn’t look away, only closing her eyes when he built her to a screaming orgasm that stole her sight again.
He was still, then careful and delicate, surrounding her in a hug that enveloped her soul.
She tugged on his shorts. “I need you inside of me.”
He studied her as if measuring her words. Because of what they did, the risks they took, the undercover roles they had played, they’d always known the unlikely, but not nonexistent, chance of intercourse—anything to stay alive.
They never had, but that hadn’t meant that precautions hadn’t been taken in the course of their rather dangerous everyday life.
She had an IUD. He’d had a vasectomy. They’d been open about partners, been careful and gotten tested, and neither had been with anyone else in some time.
But knowing the facts wasn’t an agreement on their personal lives.
Vanka stilled. “What do you want?”
His forehead touched hers. “Everything.”
She hooked his shorts and tugged them over his muscular ass. The last of their clothes had fallen away. He was right. Everything between them had changed, and yet that wasn’t nearly enough. “I want all of you, too.”
Vanka gave herself to him, lifting and opening, asking for more. Spiker stroked his shaft, centering the thick crown of his cock to her canal. The stretching penetration and his blistering stare strangled her lungs. Vanka gasped and arched, finally pulling him in for more.
Spiker’s control snapped. Wild kisses consumed her breaths. His pinning body plunged deeper and harder until his rigid length was seated fully inside. He only paused to hoarsely whisper, “God.”
She agreed. A connection like this was proof there had to be a god.
He withdrew and thrust, deft and steady, like finding their pleasure was a requirement to live. Vanka tangled her legs up his thighs and wrapped her arms around his neck.
Orgasm plundered her, and he gave her just enough tenderness before fucking her into the next shoulder-biting climax. Her mind and body were pushed to the razor-thin edge of complete uselessness as he buried his cock deep, filling her with his hot, pulsating cum.
They collapsed in a tangle, gasping and clinging to each other. Vanka hadn’t known anything could be like Spiker. She squeezed his hand. Emotional tears threatened to fall. He was so much more than her partner or a man who fucked like he was king of the gods. Spiker had managed to touch her soul.