Page 7 of Desire Me
He was barely a breath behind her.
When the spasms finally subsided, he realized his fingers were digging into Rae’s hips, forcing her as close as possible as they both milked their bodies for every ounce of pleasure they could get. He slowly eased his hold, then caught his breath as another wave rippled through him. “Rae,” he gasped, trying desperately to catch up on air. Pulling her down to lay atop him, he struggled to find words. “Holy shit, cariño.”
Her chuckle mashed her breasts harder against his chest. She shivered, goose bumps rising below his fingers as he traced her spine. “Holy shit is right.” She turned her head slightly and brushed her lips across one pec. “Thank you for that, Saint. I—” She sighed. “I needed that more than you know.”
His words were slow but definite. “I’m happy to oblige. But”—he tipped her head up and stared into her dark eyes—“we’re not done yet. Not by a long shot.”
Her “hallelujah” was muffled by his languid kiss.
Chapter Four
The musky scent of Saint’s skin mingled with sex in the air. She dragged it in, filling her lungs with the memory even as her fingers softly stroked the skin beneath them. For a man this tough, the smooth glide of skin along his abdomen was silk. Except for right below his belly button, where a trail of black hair led down to the covers he’d pushed away in his sleep. She’d remember that trail, this moment very fondly—but she’d gotten what she came for. Fed the very real, very human need to touch another person after months of being alone, separate, isolated. Now she needed to leave.
So why wasn’t she moving?
The man beside her stirred, his arm tightening around her shoulders. The hand at her waist clenched as if making sure she wasn’t going anywhere. And lying here, watching him sleep, she wished she wasn’t. She wished she could stay another hour, another day. Spend a few more minutes—or a lifetime—with his hands caressing her and those beautiful hazel eyes holding her captive as he plunged into her body. Hear the hint of foreign spice in his voice as he called hercariño.
Sweetheart.
In another place, another life, maybe that would have been possible. But this wasn’t another place or another life, and she wouldn’t put him in any more danger than she already had just to fulfill her own selfish needs.
Gritting her teeth, she eased away from his warmth. When his eyelids flickered, his full mouth pursing as if to question where she was going, she laid her palm back on his broad chest. “Bathroom,” she whispered.
Saint’s brow smoothed out, and the breathing she could feel beneath her hand deepened once more.
She slid from the bed.
Don’t look back. Don’t look back.
She gathered her clothes from where they lay, scattered across the floor. The panties were a lost cause. She’d thought all that stuff in romance novels about men tearing off women’s panties was just a fantasy, but it turned out, if the man was strong enough, determined enough, hungry enough—yeah, not just a fantasy. She tucked the material in her fist and carried everything into the bathroom, closing the door without turning on the light.
Five minutes allowed her a quick clean and dragging on of her clothes, and she was easing the door open again. Refusing to allow herself a look back at the bed, she hurried toward the hall and slid soundlessly through the door. Darkness embraced her as she forced herself forward one step at a time. The scent of Saint on her skin refused to dissipate despite the distance between them and the soap she'd used in the bathroom, calling her back despite her best intentions. Only the fear she'd lived with for the past six months kept her going—through the silent living room, out the apartment door, down the empty hall to the waiting elevator. When she landed on the first floor, she turned away from the brightly lit front entrance and found the back service entry, slipping out into the pitch-black alley.
Dawn was still a couple of hours out. The shadows hid her well as she stole between the buildings toward the sound of traffic. Being downtown, she'd get a cab easily enough. The room where she was staying—she wouldn't exactly call it an apartment—was too far away to hoof it, but she’d manage. She’d managed much harder things in the past few months. Nearing a side street, she glanced both ways and crossed, avoiding the streetlights and early-morning stragglers for several blocks before crossing to a main thoroughfare. She could see a traffic light two blocks ahead, knew a ride was mere yards away. With another quick glance around, she hastily crossed the street.
She didn't hear the car accelerate. Didn't sense the danger. After months of being alert, scared, aware of every sight and sound and possibility, she enjoyed the looseness of her limbs and the feel of being relaxed, happy. Satisfied.
Until a white cargo van skidded to a stop in front of her, the sliding door slamming open. Dark hands reached out. She backpedaled fast.
And two tons of steel and aggression slammed into her without warning. She was unconscious before her head hit the pavement.
Chapter Five
Pain forced her out of the depths of the darkness surrounding her. Not a gentle resurfacing, but a slam into reality that had her whimpering, twisting against whatever it was she lay on, trying to find some ease. Her head, her back, arms, legs—there wasn’t a place on her body that didn’t hurt.
What confused her was, why?
Searching her brain didn’t help. She couldn’t remember what she’d done that would cause her entire body to throb with pain. In fact, she wasn’t sure what she’d done last. Or, for that matter, where she was now.
Open your eyes.
The whisper tugged at her eyelids—and even those hurt. She felt the crease between her brows as if she was frowning, and then…light. Blinking hard against the brightness, the grit in her eyes, she sifted through the pain in her head, pushing outward, focusing, to see—
White.
What the hell?
White walls. White sheets. White and steel equipment against a white curtain cutting her off from the world.
