
Even the best-laid seductions can go awry.
Veiled, Book 2
Beneath Dr. Maira Khan's reserved exterior, her heart beats triple-time for only one man: Sasha Karimi. For two years she's waited patiently for the handsome police lieutenant to wake up and see her as more than a buddy. When he's injured in the line of duty, though, she realizes time is too precious to waste. Ditching her scrubs---and her shyness---she cooks up her very first seduction.
Sasha's had a hell of a week. Thanks to the national media, amorous women are pouring out of the woodwork, all wanting a piece of America's newest "hero". The biggest disappointment? Maira seems to have contracted the same case of mass hysteria. Betrayed, he pushes her away---but not before he samples a taste of her luscious mouth and body.
It works. Maira retreats, mortified and ashamed. And Sasha realizes he's just driven away the perfect woman. Now all he needs is a foolproof plan to win her back, starting with a proper courtship---and restraining his lust. Except once Maira glimpses the man behind the uniform, she sets out to show him that pure need has its own ideas about what's proper...
Warning: Contains a brilliant heroine who knows how to take matters into her own hands, a sexy hero who knows how to win his woman, an awesome full-body massage, a tender romance and sizzling bedroom (and kitchen) shenanigans.
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Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520
Macon GA 31201
Veiled Seduction
Copyright © 2010 by Alisha Rai
ISBN: 978-1-60928-047-5
Edited by Sasha Knight
Cover by Natalie Winters
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: June 2010
Veiled Seduction
For my Ash. I love you.
Special thanks to my sister, Manasi, physician extraordinaire, for patiently acting as my technical advisor for all things medical. Any mistakes are entirely my own.
Dr. Maira Khan had been called a lot of things: prodigy, weird, ice queen, robotic.
But no one said she wasn't damn good at her job.
"What have we got?" Maira coolly surveyed the newest addition to their acute care unit.
"Adult male, thirties. Two gunshot wounds to the left chest. We found him at the scene with agonal respirations so we needled his left side. There was blood all over the place, Doc. We scooped and ran." The medic who spoke was new. Not only was he young, but he had that slightly horrified look that took some first responders a year or two to overcome.
"Pressure is 60-over-palp, tachycardic to 120. Needle decompression at the scene, no IV access right now. Pressure's in the 70s." The nurse rattled off the stats in a no-nonsense tone.
"Is the suction ready, do we have an E.T. tube?" Maira asked.
"Yes."
"Then let's go, on my count, one, two, three." The medics transferred the patient to the bed, leaving the orange board behind.
One of the nurses, Cheri, a twenty-year veteran who Maira was always happy to have at her side, held the man's arm and had the IV in on the first attempt.
"Push the rapid sequence intubation meds and let's start some fluids, wide open." She stood at the head of his bed and looked down at the man from upside down. His eyes were staring up at her, she noted dispassionately. She didn't waste time to even register their color. She took off the collar around his neck and opened his mouth, not at all startled to find it pooled full of blood. "I need suction." She cleared out his mouth with the skinny plastic vacuum-like tube and held out her other hand. The endotracheal tube and laryngoscope were almost immediately slapped into it.
She held the laryngoscope in her left hand and inserted the curved metal blade into the man's mouth to make way for the breathing tube. She'd intubated people so many times, she knew exactly when the E.T. tube was properly inserted. She removed the laryngoscope.
"Stethoscope." Donning the instrument, she listened carefully to both sides of the patient's chest. "Decreased sounds on the left." Fluid in the lungs was not good. Not good at all.
Cheri was already moving to the left side with the proper equipment for her. Maira joined her, took the chest tube and inserted it as if she'd been doing it since childhood, unfazed by the spray of blood that flew out of the external end.
Clamping the tube managed to turn off the faucet of red. Holding the plastic with one hand, she listened to the patient's chest again. "I need a chest x-ray to confirm tube placement. And get Dr. Abrahms over here, if he's not already on his way." They needed the surgeon. She connected the tube she was holding to the pluravac. The machine started working, sucking more blood out of the man's chest.
"Heart rate of 150, BP is 60/40."
"Is the O Neg hanging?"
"Yes, Dr."
Her gaze fell on a medical student. "You." He jumped, Adam's apple bobbing. "Get over here. Squeeze the bag." He rushed over, so eager to please he almost tripped over his overgrown feet, and took a hold of the bag of blood. Over the next three minutes, as they worked rapidly and two units of blood were essentially pushed back into the patient, the man's heart rate slowed down, along with her own.
When his blood pressure steadied, no one high-fived or gave each other congratulatory looks. Maira only allowed herself a small mental sigh. The man was critical, but he was alive, for now at least. Sometimes that was all you could hope for.
As she was scrubbing her hands and arms, a voice came from the door. "Doctor? We need you in six, right away."
She didn't waste time with a response, only nodded and shook her hands. Hopefully her luck would continue to hold.
Four hours later, Maira walked down the slightly calmer hallway and ran her hand through her hair. She wanted nothing more than a shower and a stiff drink. In that order.
While life as an emergency department physician was rarely anything like a primetime show, occasionally they had a ripped-from-TV drama kinda day. Like today.
From snippets here and there, she'd picked up that there had been a shooting at one of the nearby elementary schools. Of course, she would have been able to figure that out without anyone telling her. Like any other trauma unit, they got their share of gunshot wounds, even child victims. But normally it was spread out, the gunshot victims interspersed with drug overdoses, ear infections, and heart and asthma attacks. From what she could surmise, upwards of half a dozen children had been rushed through their doors today.
She alone had treated two kids and two adults. All of her patients had pulled through, though three of them just barely. The man she had treated first was in the worst shape, quickly followed by a woman in her forties. That lady definitely had someone with a halo on her side. The bullet in her chest had traveled through skin, muscle and bone. Each layer must have successively slowed it down until it stopped right in front of her aorta as if confronted with a shield.
Amazing how much a fraction of an inch matters. Just a bit more and the woman, who probably had a loving husband, kids and dog who fetched her slippers, would have just been a bag of blood arriving in the E.R.
The boy she'd transferred to a nearby children's hospital by chopper...he'd been the worst, though not in terms of prognosis. Maira grimaced. She hated working on kids, as a rule. With adults, it was far easier to operate with that shield of impartiality and distance in place. She'd had to work extra hard to keep all of her focus and attention on the small pair of lungs that had gotten in the way of the bullet. And work even harder to not respond to the fear and pain in a pair of big brown eyes, made larger by the fact that most of his face had been covered by the mask from the rebreather.
She walked to the nurses' station and grabbed a chart to start writing her notes. She half-heartedly massaged her temples as she stared at the empty form. Patient condition too critical to obtain history. She checked off the box. She wrote efficiently, an emotionless rehearsal of the sequence of life-saving events. In the back of her mind, she couldn't help but wonder what would happen if she just scrawled a giant red WTF right on top of the paper. Who would do something so horrible to a bunch of kids? And in their quiet little town? Lewiston was no Mayberry, but it wasn't the rough urban city either.
"You look like you could use a Coke."
She signed her name and glanced at Cheri, who had brought her wheeled chair over to rest next to her. "A Coke would be a nice start. What are we mixing it with?"
"Alas, the cafeteria has yet to put in that fountain of rum I suggested. Blast them." She held up the red can in her hand. "For you."
"Dr. Khan, are you old enough to drink yet anyway? We'd need to card you first," Linda, another R.N., called out in a sing-song tone from her seat a few feet away.
Cheri, with her back to the other nurse, crossed her eyes. Maira bit her lip and concentrated on opening the can, gulping down a solid hit of the cold, caffeinated soda. At twenty-four, she was one of the youngest attending physicians a lot of people ever met. Since she'd dealt with it her whole life, cracks about her age generally flowed right off her back.
Besides, once they worked with her, Maira made sure no one was left with any questions about her competence and the skeptical looks dissipated. Linda was new. She'd learn.
"So, did being out on the roof with the chopper throw you back to your residency days when you would ride around with the heli-boys looking for drama?" Cheri asked, and wiggled her eyebrows.
She laughed, but sobered quickly. "No thanks. Drama isn't my thing."
"Please. If we didn't all love a little adrenaline, we wouldn't be here."
"I think we can all agree today was enough excitement for everyone. Poor kid."
"Poor kids," Cheri replied, emphasizing the plural. "They didn't deserve something so horrible."
Maira tapped her fingers against the can. "School shooting, I heard."
"Yeah, but this was no Columbine."
"I wondered. The kids were so young." Six or seven year olds, as far as she knew, didn't really fit the age group for student-on-student violence. Adolescents would probably be more down with that sort of thing.
"This guy, Alfred Reid, walked up to the playground, pulled out a gun and started picking the kids right off the swing sets."
Maira's stomach roiled. "My God."
Linda spoke. "You didn't know?"
"No. Any fatalities so far?"
Cheri shook her head. "I don't think so." She swiveled in her chair and looked at Linda for confirmation.
"By some stroke of luck, not yet. The teacher and Reid, the guy who did it, are still in critical...but then, you know that, they were both yours."
Ah, the first man she'd treated. She wondered briefly if she would have worked as hard to save him had she known what he had done. She'd like to think yes, she was that good of a physician she could distance herself from Satan himself to treat him, but...
Well, she was kind of glad she hadn't been tested.
"The kids?"
"The one you air-lifted, and then two more in critical here. Three got off relatively easy, have already been transferred out of acute, and then six more treated and discharged." Linda shook her head. "Poor kids, indeed."
"It could have been worse," Cheri said with a meaningful air. "If that cop hadn't acted so quickly, that entire class of twenty would be corpses."
"One cop?" Impressive. She'd worked with enough first responders to know that one against one wasn't always the best odds.
"Yeah. One of the people inside the school building shot a cell phone video of the whole thing. It's gone viral."
"We caught it on my iPhone just a little while ago." Cheri gave a wry smile. "Crazy how fast the world is. Cop charged in without even waiting for backup, single-handedly took the shooter down."
"He didn't get hurt?"
Cheri snorted. "Oh, he did. He's admitted too. Get this, we have a connection. He's Dr. Barrett's brother-in-law."
All of the air sucked right out of Maira's lungs. She stared at Cheri, distantly noting the concern on her friend's face. The nurse's lips were moving, but Maira couldn't hear.
She was standing. Her leg was damp. She looked down to note the full can of soda had slipped from her fingers to fall against the white tile floor. The cola had splashed and soaked through her scrubs, creating a dark stain over the light blue.
"Where is he?" Maira whispered.
"Are you okay...?"
"Where is he?" Surely, that high-pitched, almost yelling voice was not hers. Other doctors might yell; she never did. She was calm. Collected.
Right. And if this woman didn't give her an answer, she was going to strangle her.
"Room eleven. He's fi---"
Maira didn't just run, she sprinted away, the cold wetness of her cola-drenched pant hem slapping at her leg. Behind her, she heard Cheri murmur to Linda, "I forgot she was friends with Dr. Barrett's family."
Maira wanted to laugh, more than a little hysterically. Friends?
Yeah. She was friends with Sasha Karimi.
Her sensible sneakers squeaked as she came to a halt in front of the slightly ajar door. Her heart thudded in her ears as she pushed it open.
Though she knew what she would see, a small cry escaped her lips when she caught sight of the still form lying in the bed.
She'd run a half-marathon once, before she realized that she absolutely despised running and exercise in general. That was what she felt like now. Like her chest was too tight and aching. Each breath she took came in a rasping gasp.
Metal bit into her hands as she wrapped them around the side rail of the bed. He hadn't gotten that haircut, she thought inanely. When they'd met for a quick lunch last week he'd kept raking the too-long curls away from his face until she'd teased him that he was starting to look like a girl.
Teasing because Sasha was the most masculine man she'd ever met. His body was pure steel. His features were all bold lines and stubborn strength, from his straight aquiline nose to his square jaw. When he kept his hair short, he looked tough and capable.
When he grew it long, though, the black curls, along with his melted chocolate eyes and thickly fringed eyelashes, made him look almost poetically beautiful.
Now, he looked neither. A bandage was taped high on his forehead. The harsh contrast of his hair against the stark white of the pillow emphasized the hardness of his tanned features. He wasn't her animated and fun-loving Sasha. Slight lines were etched around his mouth and on his forehead. He appeared older, tired.
She didn't realize she was touching him until she felt the warmth of his cheek against her fingers. "Sasha," she murmured and leaned over his face until the slight gust of his breath wafted against her lips. "Oh God, what happened to you?"
Go get his chart and find out, numb nuts.
Still she couldn't move. She stroked her fingers over his lips and followed them quickly with her lips, kissing him, light caressing touches of her mouth. His mouth trembled below hers right before she felt the brush of flesh against her face.
Startled, she lifted her lashes and pulled back. Sasha stared at her with unfocused eyes. His hand rested against her cheek. Her wet cheek, she realized. It was as if the consciousness of her tears brought more; they poured out of her eyes. A sob caught in her throat. "Sash, God, I love you so much."
For two years, she'd kept those words bottled in, and she hadn't intended to let them out now. But she couldn't stop once she said it, and she kept repeating the three-word phrase, following it with more frantic kisses, against his nose, his cheeks, his forehead, his lips.
In the deepest, darkest depths of her heart where she kept all her dreams locked up in a pink journal decorated with ponies and unicorns, she'd fantasized about declaring her love for Sasha Karimi for two years. In those scenarios, he generally fell to his knees in thrilled delight before he reciprocated the feelings and then they got married and had lots of babies and maybe a pet iguana and lived happily ever after.
Instead, she felt his hand fall from her face. When she looked at him, his eyes were closed again, his lashes making crescent moons against his cheeks.
"Mo?"
The whisper-soft word floated from the door. She glanced up sharply. The tall blond man in the doorway was blurry. "Mason..."
Mason Barrett was a fellow E.D. physician. He was also married to Sasha's sister. If anyone would know what Sasha's condition was, it would be him. If only she could speak past the hard lump in her throat.
He didn't bother to wait for her to sort out her vocal cords. He approached on soundless feet and placed a hand on her arm. "Come on. Let's talk outside."
She dumbly allowed him to lead her outside, and he slid the glass door of the room closed. "Mason..."
"Shh. Come on now."
Part of her wanted to run far away; another part wanted nothing more than to shrug off Mason's arm, march right back into that room, and strip Sasha of his thin cotton green hospital gown so she could inspect him all over.
Mason's face suddenly appeared before hers and she inhaled. He was on his haunches in front of her, holding her cold hands in his. When had she sat down? She looked around, noting the deserted doctor's lounge with some confusion. How had she gotten all the way over here?
"Mo, breathe, honey."
Breathe? She was breathing just fine. Wasn't she?
The world tilted upside down when Mason slipped his hand around her neck and gently pressed her head down until she was staring at the floor.
"Take a deep breath. And exhale. He's fine, do you hear me? He's just fine."
It was only then that she realized her breaths were coming in half pants. That was...unusual. She did not hyperventilate.
She was calm. She was collected. She...she really could not breathe.
She sucked in a deep breath, but it caught on the sob in her throat and she ended up choking. Mason rubbed her back lightly as she swallowed and tried again.
It took a few minutes to get her air back. She concentrated on dispersing that tight, achy feeling in her chest. With every second that passed by, a little more panic set in. God, what had Mason seen or heard? What was he thinking?
That this is a hell of a reaction from someone who's a buddy, that's what.
When she could easily inhale and exhale without feeling like a gorilla was sitting on her chest, she sat back up. Her body felt rigid and easily breakable. "I---I apologize. I don't know what came over me."
"Don't apologize. Probably the same thing that came over me when I saw him wheeled in."
At some point during her little attack, he'd moved to sit next to her on the couch. She turned to look at him. Up close, she could see the lines of strain and fatigue all over his face, and a pang of remorse drowned out any lingering embarrassment. Mason was married to Sasha's older sister, but more than that, the two men were closer than most other in-laws. They shared a friendship that went back years, to their childhood.
"Is he...?" She couldn't finish the question.
Mason spoke quickly, bless his heart. "He's fine. Straight clean gunshot through the muscle of his thigh. No major vessels, no broken bones. Barring any other problems, he'll be out in a few days. Lucky bastard."
Her eyes wouldn't stop leaking. He turned away from her to grab a handful of tissues from the box on the end table and handed them to her. There was no way to hide her tears or her actions, so she didn't bother, simply wiping away the evidence of her distraught state. "His head?"
"Slight graze. He has a nasty bruise on his chest where his vest protected him. That's all, I swear."
A shudder worked its way through her body. "He was the cop who saved those kids?"
"So I hear."
"My God. He could have died."
Silence. She looked up to find Mason staring at his hands resting on his knees. He flexed his fingers slowly and then looked back at her, his eyes diamond bright. "He didn't. Thank God."
She'd do that tonight, copiously. Lucky didn't begin to cover it. She knew exactly what kind of damage a bullet could do to a person, the deadly little pieces of metal capable of wreaking a vicious trajectory through the body. Just one artery. That was all that needed to be nicked for a fragile human being to bleed out.
"I know he looks like he's in rough shape, but you'll see differently when he wakes up. He took some pain pills, and medications always hit him harder than most people."
When he woke up? She thought of what she'd say to him, how she'd walk into his room and pretend like her world hadn't tilted on its axis. True panic set in. "I can't see him. Not yet."
She hated to see judgment in the expression of a man she admired, not just as a colleague, but as a good friend. However, there was nothing but understanding in Mason's expression. "I think that's fine. Don't worry about it. Your shift is up, why don't you go on home?"
"I have some paperwork..."
"Look at your hands."
She looked down at her lap, where she'd shredded the tissue into tiny pieces. A visible tremor ran through her fingers.
She glanced back up, a crawling sensation in her chest. She felt...desperately out of control, like everything was unraveling around her.
It horrified her. She couldn't have been more mortified if she'd stripped her clothes and danced around Mason naked. She looked him dead in the eyes. He didn't even try to glance away.
He knew, damn it. She didn't know if her over-the-top performance just now had given her away, or if he'd known all along. "Don't tell." Her voice was high, plaintive. She could feel the slight burn of tears rising again.
His soothing, light touch on her shoulder kept her from making a complete fool of herself. "Never."
She didn't know why, but she believed him. Mason was a good man, a good friend.
"Go on home. I'll call you with updates."
Yes, home, where she could crawl into her small cave and work on rebuilding the wall of defenses that had kept her true feelings concealed from the man she'd loved from the moment she'd met him. Tomorrow, everything would be back to normal.
For the past few months, Sasha had thought of Maira more times than he'd ever admit. Generally, it had been during those hazy moments before waking or sleeping, when his subconscious took over, when he lacked the self-control and discipline he exercised while he was in her company.
So it was no surprise she was in his mind right now. He felt good, he thought with a mental smile. His body felt like it had been wrapped in cotton, his brain the same. He inhaled and settled into the softness of his dream world. God, it was like she was standing right next to his bed. He could smell her, that incongruously frivolous scent of lavender that he'd first thought of as out of place on such a quiet, dignified woman.
As if he'd conjured her touch, a slight pressure moved over his lips. Kisses? From Maira? Well, this was nice. He tried to respond, but all he could manage was the slightest of puckers. He fought the lead weights nailing his eyes shut and managed to pry them open.
She was crying. Why was she crying? Don't. He couldn't say it, but his brain could control his hand enough to brush his fingers against the wetness on her face. Stop. More moisture replaced what he took away.
She was saying things, words that made his heart tighten and made him want to smile. Then she was kissing him again. He closed his eyes and relaxed back into the pillow. Except for her tears, this had to be one of the best Maira dreams he'd ever had.
He frowned as her fragrance drifted away and fought to open his eyes again to call her back. It was difficult, though, and he finally just acquiesced to the hard mattress below him.
For the best. His increasing fascination with the genius doctor was getting a little out of hand.
Sasha awoke with a start and stared at the unfamiliar ceiling above him. He didn't need to look around him. He could tell from the scent that he was in a hospital.
He inhaled, the odor of disinfectant and illness creeping into his lungs. Blech. There was no place he hated more than hospitals. Bad enough to be a visitor in one. Being the patient was about forty times worse.
"Hey, Sleeping Beauty."
He turned his head to the right to find Mason sprawled in the chair next to him. His best friend looked like he'd been run over by a truck that had then backed over to finish the job. Short blond hair stuck up in all directions on his head. A rough shadow of stubble colored his jaw. His blue eyes were bloodshot. The scrubs he wore were rumpled and appeared to have been slept in.
"You look like hell."
A smile curved Mason's lips. "That's the pot calling the kettle black."
He was about to respond when the various aches in his body made themselves known. He winced and shifted, just then noticing the pretty young nurse standing on the other side of his bed, fiddling with a monitor. "I feel..." The memory of the shootout slammed into his brain, and he snapped his head around to Mason. "The kids. Are the kids okay?"
He thought he heard a small exclamation come from the nurse, but he kept his gaze on Mason, exhaling when his friend nodded. The relief was short-lived, though.
"No fatalities, but a couple are still listed as critical. One had to be transferred. The teacher's in bad shape."
He closed his eyes and turned his head. "Oh God."
"You can't blame yourself."
He opened his eyes to find the pretty nurse looking down at him. Blonde, brown eyed and petite, she gazed at him with an odd expression on her face.
Sasha was about to make it clear that he blamed the jackass with the gun more than he blamed himself, when the young woman leaned over, her file clutched to her chest. "You were absolutely amazing. What you did was so courageous and brave and...really. There was nothing more you could have done."
Sasha blinked. "Ah. Thanks."
She stared at him, her lips parted, eyes expectant.
"Um. I appreciate it."
Mason's obviously fake throat-clearing brought the woman out of whatever trance she was lingering in. She jumped with a small sound and smiled. "No problem." She straightened, glanced at one of his monitors, jotted something on the chart in her hand and turned her attention back to him.
Sasha knew he had a reputation for being kind of dense when it came to women, but even he couldn't mistake the obvious invitation in her eyes. "Just let me know if you need anything. Anything at all. My name's Karen."
"Yeah. Sure."
Both men were silent until the nurse left the room, closing the door behind her. Mason succumbed first, chuckling. "I think I needed to leave you two alone."
"Shut up." He glanced at the weak morning sun coming through the almost closed blinds. "How long have I been here?"
Mason leaned forward and loosely linked his hands over his knees. "The shooting was yesterday. The pain pills we gave you conked you out pretty well."
His next question was obvious. "When can I get out?"
"Few days. Maybe a week," Mason said, and then held up his hand, as if to forestall the argument that Sasha was ready to launch. "No arguments. Your injury wasn't that severe, but the edges of your thigh wound are a little red. We just need to make sure there's no infection."
"I'm leaving as soon as I can walk."
"The hell you are." Mason frowned.
"I can't stay here." It felt like there was an itch all along his body telling him to get the hell up and get out.
Mason's expression softened. "Man, I know how much you hate hospitals. But this is for your own good."
Their eyes met for a brief second before Sasha looked away. Yeah, Mason knew. When they'd been sixteen, his parents and Mason's single dad had all been killed when the car the three of them had been riding in had been struck by a drunk driver.
His and Leyla's mom and dad had died instantly. Mason's father, though, had lingered in a coma for weeks before finally passing.
Odd, he thought, not for the first time, how a shared experience could affect people in different ways. In Mason, it had instilled a burning desire to become a physician.
Him? Sasha just wanted to stay as far away from hospitals as possible.
"It won't be so bad, so get rid of the long face. You'll have company," Mason said in a cajoling tone.
A tear-stained face flashed in front of him, sweet and ravaged. He blinked, surprised. Hell, where had that come from? He spoke before he could think. "Is Maira here?"
Mason raised his brows and sat back in the chair. "Mo? Why?"
"Why do you insist on calling her by that ridiculous name?" Mo sounded like a stooge. Maira. Maira was perfect, all elegance and poise.
And he really didn't know why the nickname suddenly bothered him so much.
"She's a buddy. It fits her." Mason shifted. "She had a tough day yesterday. I had to push her out the door last night and she's off the schedule for the next couple of days. She might still stop by, but I frankly hope she doesn't."
Sasha frowned. His disappointment was all out of proportion, and the slight tinge of abandonment he felt was crazy too. She's not gone forever. If she had a hard day, you should want her to stay home and rest, not come visit you. "The kids," he guessed. Maira was a softie, and a sucker for children. His own niece adored her.
"Hmm. Anyway, I'm here, and Leyla's coming right back. She just had to take Ash to a sitter."
Sasha was instantly distracted at the mention of his sister and eighteen-month-old niece. As honored as he'd been when Leyla and Mason had named their firstborn after him, two Sasha's got confusing pretty quickly. He'd started shortening her name, pronouncing it with a soft A, and everyone else had followed suit. "Ash could come."
"No, she can't. They're limiting kids in the hospital due to the flu."
"You work here. You can't pull some strings?"
"You just want Leyla's attention divided."
"You got me. Please tell me I slept through my sister's initial freakout over me being in the hospital?"
"Only part of it."
Sasha groaned. "Great."
Mason smiled, his dimples flashing. "I know you've been feeling a little left out since the baby was born. This is your chance to get some of that attention you've been craving."
Sasha eyed his friend of two decades balefully. "Go to hell."
"Aww, Sash, don't be like that. We love all our kids the same. You have lots of TLC coming your way."
His sister's smothering was not the kind of TLC he welcomed right now.
Capable hands smoothing over his face, the soft pressure of lips...
Wait, what?
The quick flash of fantasy wouldn't have normally bothered him. He was a man, and occasionally he daydreamed of kissing women. Sometimes women he knew. It was the realness of the vision combined with the sweet face he'd glimpsed that had him shocked.
He closed his eyes to hide his turmoil. He heard a rustle. Mason's hand fell on his shoulder, startling him. "Rest. I'll try to keep Leyla calm for a little while."
Yes, keep Leyla calm. And while you're doing that, track Maira down and send her to me. Why? Because I just had a freakishly vivid vision of her kissing and caressing me. Oh, and I also really have the urge to look at her face.
He contained his snort of self-derision until Mason left the room. Opening his eyes once he was alone, he stared out the window at the fabulous view of brown brick.
The pain meds clearly still had not worn off. Nothing else explained that little dream sequence.
Yeah, okay, he might have thought of Maira as something more a time or two---or forty---but he'd been careful to not do anything to disturb their relationship. They were friends. A couple of years ago, when she'd first started working with Mason, he might have even called her one of the guys.
She's definitely not one of the guys.
No, Sasha reluctantly admitted. She definitely wasn't.
Granted, she wasn't all super girlie. Her hair was usually twisted up in a bun or tied off in a braid that went all the way to the small of her back. If she wasn't wearing scrubs, which wasn't that often, she was in jeans and a T-shirt.
The clothes were meaningless though, since they covered a body that...wow.
Holy Batman, what a body. He wasn't proud of it, but he'd spent more time than a friend should sneaking peeks at that body.
She was tall, but she wasn't skinny---statuesque? Was that the right word? Yeah, she had some substance to her, from her round hips to her full breasts. Her legs were miles high, and he almost swallowed his tongue whenever he caught glimpses of that flesh. Not only was she freakishly attractive, she was damn witty and funny underneath that poised and collected demeanor. There was no hidden agenda, no artifice in her. As a man who valued honesty above all else, he appreciated that.
Sasha rubbed his stubbled jaw. Damn, but she tempted him, far more than any other woman ever had. The problem was she was too young and too sweet and too good of a friend of the family for him to mess around with. Since he couldn't mess around, that meant he wouldn't touch her unless they had a shot at something serious. They had time, lots of time, to figure that stuff out. Right?
His lips firmed. Right.
However, he mused, as he tried to find a comfortable spot on the paper-thin pillow, that didn't mean it would hurt anyone to try to recapture whatever realistic dream he'd had while under the influence. Not like she would ever know.
She hadn't counted on the cameras.
Maira bit her lip and studied the news vans parked in front of the large ranch home. She'd pulled in the end of the quiet cul-de-sac in front of a neighbor's house. The late-summer Florida sun cast a glare across her windshield, prompting her to flip her visor down to block it.
Maira exhaled and fought the urge to scrub at her eyes and disturb her makeup. Visine had taken care of the bloodshot whites, and foundation covered the deep bags under them, but her eyes still felt gritty and achy. Should have gotten some sleep before coming over.
Four days had gone by since she'd broken down in the hospital room, and she still felt shaky and discombobulated. Four days of pacing her house, working up the courage to go back to the hospital. The option of returning had been taken out of her hands last night thanks to her name on the on-call schedule.
She'd left an hour early for her shift, knowing that she would have to visit Sasha. They were good enough friends he would be irritated or maybe even hurt that she hadn't stopped by to see him. It wasn't that she didn't want to see him. It was just she didn't know how she could face him and not let her façade crack. He'd see all of her ooey-gooey feelings and that thought was untenable.
Still, she'd pulled on her big-girl panties and gone to his room. Only to discover that he'd overridden his physician's orders and discharged himself.
Maira's lips tightened in annoyance. The man was so damn headstrong. She'd worked through her shift on autopilot, grateful for the slow night, all the while alternately fuming and worrying. Even the status updates she'd gotten by phone from the hospital about his condition for the past couple of days and knowing that he was well on his way to recovery hadn't made her feel better about the thought of him on his own.
Work had been a blessing though, in that it had clarified some things in her mind in a way that a gallon of Breyers over the previous few days hadn't come close to doing. Around four a.m., she'd finally realized that she just needed to man up.
She should have factored in the development of the news crews outside Sasha's home. Since the shooting, the national media had flooded their quiet little town. She herself had logged more than a few hours scrolling through the twenty-four-hour news stations. The nation was in love with Sasha. The grainy two-minute cell-phone footage of his heroics was played constantly. She saw it even when she closed her eyes.
You could leave. Just go. Call him, tell him you tried, and come back in a week or two.
She licked her lips. No. By God, she had to see him. Not just because it would look weird if she didn't visit him, but also because she was dying to see him in the flesh despite the discomfort it would cause.
With a shaking hand, Maira started her car. The rush of air conditioning over her skin was a welcome respite. She hadn't realized how hot the car had gotten while she'd sat dithering. Hoping no one would see her, she raised her arm and did a quick smell check, relieved to note the lack of sweat. She'd worked hard to make sure she looked her best today, hoping it would give her self-confidence a boost.
Maybe also hoping it might catch a certain man's eye.
She drove up the street with reckless disregard---well, five miles over the speed limit was pretty damn reckless to her---and made a sharp turn into Sasha's driveway. After coming home from work this morning, she'd spent an hour tossing and turning in bed, and then started feverishly baking. The results of her work sat neatly next to her. Showing up at someone's door with empty hands wasn't proper. Plus, knowing the man, he was probably subsisting on potato chips and soda. Arguably, the nutritional content of baked goods was superior to that.
She gathered the basket and pie she'd buckled into her passenger seat and awkwardly clambered out, her skirt making it difficult. The denim had been hanging at the back of her closet for a while now. On anyone else, it would have been perfectly modest, but her height tended to ruin cute skirts. She'd given them up long ago because it wasn't normally practical for her to reveal the length of thigh they invariably did.
No wonder drunk actresses are always having problems with this move. This takes more skill than I possess sober. She managed to make it out of her car without flashing anything indecent at the world and while juggling the food. The humidity hit her like a slap in the face---she could feel her straight hair starting to break free of its blow-dried submission.
"Miss? Miss?" The muffled shout came from well behind her. Maira knew the reporters wouldn't come past the property line, but she still tensed. She turned so she kept her head down and eyes averted as she took long strides up the walkway. She rang the little pineapple-shaped doorbell, straining to hear for heavy footsteps. His big black truck wasn't in the driveway, but he had a large garage. The back of her neck prickled, along with the bare skin of her legs and arms. She absolutely hated attention. With her height and coloring, she should have gotten used to it long ago, but it had never happened.
Panic made her heart flutter. So what was she doing here? In clothes that screamed for attention, hair and makeup done?
She had to restrain herself from throwing the food on the doorstep and running back to her car.
This is how much I love you, you big lug.
She raised her hand to ring the doorbell again as the door swung open just wide enough to fit a body through. A strong hand reached out and seized her arm. With a jerk, she was pulled over the threshold. She stumbled over the doorjamb, but was caught up and tugged inside. The door slammed and suddenly her back was pressed up against the unyielding wood.
Her front was pressed up against something even more unyielding.
Her breath caught. Her hand released its grip on the basket to let it fall to the floor. "Sasha---"
"Shh." He shifted his head next to hers and she realized he was peering out the peephole. "They're going back to their cars."
She could barely process what he had said. The pure, unadulterated pleasure of having his hard body pressed against hers, if only for a minute, made her forget about everything.
Maira inhaled. God, she loved the smell of him. It was all spicy and clean and male. Since she was so tall, just a couple of inches below him, they fit perfectly from head to toe. If she turned her head the slightest bit, she could brush her lips against his cheek. His large arms, the white T-shirt he was wearing straining against the muscles of his biceps, bracketed her head. His loose sweatpants couldn't hide his massive thighs or the way they felt cradling hers. His wide chest pressed against hers, flattening her warm, squishy breasts and---
Wait, why were her breasts warm and squishy?
Maira closed her eyes on a silent groan. The pie.
Her left hand was insinuated between them, still clutching the pie tin. He must have registered the odd sensation at the same minute, since he looked down at her with knitted brows and slowly separated their bodies, taking a step back, leaning heavily on the cane in his hand.
A cherry plopped to the ground, and she stared at the previously lovely dessert. It had smashed flat against her chest, and from her breasts to her stomach, she was covered with a mixture of cherries and graham cracker. As she watched, another round cherry slipped off to land on the polished hardwood floor.
A snort of laughter made her look back up. Sasha pressed his lips together, but his black eyes were dancing, the small lines around them crinkling. "Hey, Maira."
"Hey."
"You've got pie on you."
She pursed her lips. "I'm aware of this."
At that, he leaned against the wall behind him and laughed, a deep-throated, rusty-sounding laugh. The sound was so lovely, she almost forgot he was laughing at her.
Almost. She pressed the tin tighter against her, unwilling to ruin his floor as well by drawing it away. Well, she'd had some vague hope of provoking a reaction with her appearance. Granted, she'd hoped the reaction would have more to do with undying love and lust at seeing her body in something other than scrubs.
At least he looked good laughing. She couldn't help drinking his features in. His skin still had a bit of an ashen cast to it, the usual golden glow muted. He'd lost weight, so his face looked severe, his high cheekbones jutting against his skin. His dark curls were, as usual, too long and rumpled, as if he'd run his hands through them.
He finally stopped chuckling, wiping his eyes with a finger. "Oh man. Maira, I needed that. Thanks, buddy."
Buddy. When a girl started med school at eighteen, she got pretty used to being men's buddies. It had always been fine by her. She'd felt more comfortable around men who thought of her as a kid sister, which meant she tended to gravitate toward guys who were either safely married, gay, or otherwise unavailable. Sasha was the first single, straight man she'd ever felt instantly at ease around, her shy, awkward barrier melting away.
Whenever he called her a buddy, she wanted to smack him in the head. "I'm so happy to amuse."
He grinned as he came over and picked up the basket at her feet. She didn't expect the quick kiss he brushed over the top of her head. Sasha was sparing with physical affection, which would normally have been okay with her. If she didn't crave his touch so much.
He stepped back and looked at her face. Was it her imagination or was there something softer, different in his eyes as they rested on her? She felt warm and flustered. "You look good."
His smile was slow. "Thanks. So do you. It's good to see you." He cocked his head. "Did you do something different? With your hair?"
Yeah. She'd only spent a solid hour this morning straightening the long mass. That was before she'd tried on everything in her closet and done her makeup three times. Men. "It's down."
"Huh. Well, come on, let's get you cleaned up."
A bit of the mess had landed on his shirt as well. "It was a good pie," she mourned, as they walked to the kitchen.
"I'll bet. Cherry's my favorite."
She knew that. She was so pathetic. "Are you in much pain?" she asked him abruptly, noticing his limp. There was a bulge on his thigh where the bandage lay under his sweatpants.
"None at all."
She cast him a reproachful look, forgetting for the moment the seductive persona she'd planned on. "I'm very unhappy with you for insisting on a discharge. If I had known you were going to try to pull something like that..."
"I already got the lecture from Leyla."
"You should have stayed for an extra day, at least. Between the blood loss..."
"I mean it. Cut it out, I'm fine. Just because I have good insurance doesn't mean I should milk it."
She wasn't about to let his terse tone affect her. "It's not about---"
"Maira. Drop it."
Ugh, why couldn't she have picked some safe, timid guy to moon over? "Fine."
He hefted the basket in his hand, and his face softened. "What's in here?"
"Cookies, muffins." Sasha had a sweet tooth that could rival a toddler's.
"Hey, thanks. You didn't have to do that."
She shrugged, uncomfortable, and trying to fall back into their usual friendly rhythm. She searched for something to say as they entered the large, airy kitchen. "I-I wanted to. I was going to come see you in the hospital...I mean, I saw you when you came in, but you were asleep, so you probably didn't know..."
"You were really there? I thought that was a dream."
Oh God, had he seen her falling to pieces and scattering kisses over his face? She'd assumed he'd been so out of it he wouldn't remember. Her face heated. "I didn't realize you were awake. You saw me?"
He glanced at her, but looked away quickly. "I was under the effect of a crazy cocktail of drugs. I thought I saw your face for a minute."
Okay, phew. That was fine. She didn't mind him seeing her face. "It was a stressful day. I stopped in for a bit."
"I thought you'd come by after I woke up."
There was no reproach in his voice, but she felt it just the same. "I'm sorry. I was going to but..." She faltered. There was no acceptable excuse for why a friend would not stop by with a teddy bear or flowers. Or even a balloon.
"Don't apologize. Mason said you were shaken by the experience. Did you have to work on some of the kids?"
More shame. Yes, the kids had made her sad, but she'd worked on children before. He had been her trigger into a breakdown. "Yes. I did come yesterday, but you had already left."
"Don't worry. You're here now. I'm happy to see you." He placed the picnic basket on the counter. Which, now that he had called attention to it, Maira realized was more than a little crowded with foil-covered pans.
"It looks like I'm not the only one to bring you something to eat."
"Huh? Oh." He paused in opening the basket and surveyed the other dishes. "Oh, yeah. A couple of people from the neighborhood brought them by this morning. And this afternoon."
People...or women? She tried to ignore the spurt of jealousy. Don't be small.
"But it's all like this tuna-casserole crap. This is way better. You know what I like."
Victory was hers! Okay, you can be a little bit small.
"Hey, feel free to put that thing in the sink and wash up. Mi casa and all that."
She went over to the stainless-steel double sink and carefully lowered the tin to the base. At least her red silk tank top matched the smeared fruit, she thought ruefully. After she'd turned the water on, she carefully scraped the worst of the mess off her shirt. "That's quite the media circus outside."
"It was way worse when I got home yesterday. Most of them got bored when I didn't step outside and talk to them. I'm hoping by tomorrow they'll all be gone. I told the captain to just issue some sort of statement with my blessing."
"I'm sorry I made you open your door. I would have called..."
"Nah, I wouldn't have answered. The vultures got my cell phone number. I kept getting interview requests, so I just shut the thing off."
"Well, that's not surprising. I mean, what you did was so heroic."
His snort was derisive and a little bit insulted. "What I did was my job."
"You did way more than your job, Sasha."
"Uh-huh."
"Stop being modest."
"I'm not. Everyone's going insane for no reason. If I'd had any idea what would be waiting for me when I got home, I might have stayed in the hospital. There's the madhouse outside my door, my phones are ringing off the hook for interviews, suddenly everyone's my best friend, the women---" He cut himself off.
Wait, women? She scraped off the last bit of pie and tried to sound casual. "What about the women?"
"Nothing. Anyway, I wish everyone would just leave me the hell alone, especially those reporters. I didn't do anything special."
"Nothing special? You didn't have to respond to that call. You aren't patrol."
"I was in the area."
"But you didn't sit around and wait for backup. You single-handedly brought down an armed gunman while he was shooting at children outside a school. I'd say that's pretty damn heroic." As much as the thought of him in such danger made her stomach churn, she was equally proud of him. Along with the video, a still photo of him with his gun extended in front of him, narrow-eyed and intense, was a popular sight on television as well. Her heart beat a little faster every time she saw it.
The silence behind her made her duck her head. She'd been far too impassioned.
"How many of those kids are still in critical condition, Dr.? And the teacher?"
The water wavered in front of her eyes. How like him to think of the other victims. It had been popularly reported on the news that his first question upon waking up was to inquire about the children's health, and she didn't doubt it. She wouldn't love him so if he was any other kind of person. "Two. The teacher was one of mine. I hear it's looking good for her." None had died though. Thanks to him, but she knew he didn't see that.
His tone was soft and final. "Then I'd say I wasn't anywhere near a hero."
"If you hadn't been the first responder, it could have been a lot worse." She twisted the faucet off and turned around. And promptly swallowed her tongue. Sasha needed to give a warning and pass out oxygen masks before he went around taking his shirt off.
She'd never had a reason to see his chest. Usually when they were together, they were watching football or a movie or eating dinner. Shirts were generally the norm at those sorts of things.
He worked out like a fiend, and he had an amazing physique. His tan skin stretched tautly over his defined muscles. His chest was wide, his pecs sculpted, and he boasted a perfect six-pack belly. He had the perfect amount of dark hair on his chest, a trail leading southward to disappear into his pants. The sweatpants hung low on his hips, revealing the intriguing little dips at his groin.
The large, ugly contusion decorating his ribs caused her stomach to churn. She knew what would have happened had Sasha not been wearing a Kevlar vest, the kind of damage a bullet to the middle of a body could do. She visualized the suckers slamming into his torso, pushing past skin and muscle, hitting arteries, punching through vital organs. Puncturing his lung, his heart. Instant death or slow death, but dead all the same.
The world receded around her, each tick of the clock on the wall marking another second of their lives wasted.
Tick. Five years down the road and she was attending his wedding to another woman.
Tick. Twenty years after that and she was sending money for his child's high school graduation.
Tick. Fifty years after that, frail and alone, she was standing in a corner at his funeral as his real family mourned.
God no.
"I've got clean T-shirts folded on the washing machine. Why don't you change? That can't be comfortable."
His words seemed to come from far away and she stared at him. "What?"
He cocked his head and gestured at her shirt. "Your top. It's a mess."
She looked down at herself dumbly. Without thinking, she crossed her arms in front of her and pulled the tank top off.
His inhale of breath was the only sound in the room. She dropped the top to the ground. The ruined fabric plopped as it landed.
This...this was not what she had planned on. Granted, she hadn't exactly planned any of this visit. On the contrary, she'd specifically avoided thinking of it at all, knowing it would only make her more nervous, more anxious. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she'd had some vague idea of dazzling him with her hidden looks, plying him with sweets, playing the sophisticate, slowly leading him toward the realization that they were perfect together.
Maybe this wasn't the worst first step, though, she thought, a little hysterically. Nothing got a man's attention like sex, right? It was like ripping a Band-Aid off. You do it fast and quick, get it all out there.
Still, she couldn't look at him. The cold air conditioning smoothed over her skin, leaving goose bumps in its wake. Her nipples were tight against the scratchy lace of her bra.
She kept her head bowed and studied the white tile of the floor. Her hair slipped down to shield her even further.
She counted his heavy, uneven footsteps as he limped closer to her. All of a sudden, she felt his fingers hard against her chin. With a slight jerk, he brought her face up to meet his eyes.
She'd expected shock, irritation, confusion, and dreamed of reciprocal lust. But all she could read in his gaze was anger and...disappointment? "What the hell, Maira?"
She trembled, wishing she could put her shirt back on, but at the same time relieved to finally have it all out there. Literally. "I-I want you."
His hand moved from her chin to cradle her head. His grip wasn't particularly hurtful, but she knew she couldn't get away. His laugh this time wasn't the slightest bit amused. "You too? This, I never would have expected."
Some of the dazed fog cleared from her mind. "What?"
His smile was so hard, she blinked in surprise. She'd never seen this side of Sasha. He was intense, yes, but always friendly. "Do you want to offer to suck my cock like my neighbor did? Or perhaps you want to tell me I can tie you up? Or maybe you want to tell me how much you like threesomes and you've always had a thing for me?"
She didn't know about the threesomes thing, but the first two scenarios made her knees weak---wait, his neighbor? It was as if he'd splashed cold water on her. She scowled. "Which neighbor is this?"
He shook his head, his eyes turning black. "You'd be surprised how many women would love to lay down for someone because the news calls him a hero. I just never thought you'd be one of them."
"What? No. You've misunderstood..."
"No, you've misunderstood." He pressed his lips to hers. The shock of him kissing her had her going still in his grip. Instantly, both his arms came around her, and she heard the clatter of his cane on the floor as he leaned more heavily on her. He deepened the kiss, taking advantage of her surprise to slip his tongue into her mouth. He rubbed it against hers, angling her head so he could taste her even better.
When he ripped his lips away, they were both panting. He stared at her with angry eyes. "You know, I turned the other women away, but I wonder if I should bother now. You're clearly hot for this."
She was hot for him. She had been since she first met him. "Sasha, we need to talk."
He talked over her as if she wasn't even speaking. "It's been a while for me, so I might be a little rough. You may want to brace yourself."
She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, he startled her by picking her up and spinning her around. The kitchen whirled, and then she felt the hard wood of the breakfast table against her ass. "Your leg..."
"My leg isn't what's hurting right now." He silenced her with another kiss.
So this was what a punishing kiss was, she thought dazedly. Huh. Where was the punishment?
He urged her legs wider, crowding between them. Dimly, she felt his hand pushing her skirt up until it was crumpled around her waist. With one hand on her bottom he scooted her closer to the edge of the table. Through his sweatpants and her panties, she felt the thick length of his cock pressing against her, alternately relieving and building the ache she'd been carrying for years.
He left her lips to nip and lick his way down her neck, tilting her head to get better access to her flesh. When he opened his lips and sucked, she gave a little cry.
"Is that one of your sweet spots?" he murmured against her skin, and then repeated the action, drawing ever harder, not giving her a chance to respond verbally. Instead she wrapped her legs around him, locking them together at the small of his back. Her panties were already damp as her body readied in anticipation of taking that thick, hard cock nudging against the folds of her vagina.
He grunted, drew her even closer, and continued blazing a trail down her chest. His tongue came out to flick against the residual cherry filling on the upper slope of her breasts. "My favorite," he muttered. With a hard jerk, he had her bra lowered, her breast spilling out. The nipples were already hard as stone. "More cherries." He drew the bud into his mouth, his cheeks flexing as he sucked at it, lashing it with his tongue.
She moaned at the onslaught of sensation. God, it felt so good. This was what she had been missing. She lifted her hips, dying to just get a little bit closer, press against him a little harder. He scraped his teeth against her nipple and then sucked it again, soothing and inflaming her all at the same time.
And then...then it was all gone. She lay there, panting, the air wafting over her damp nipples. She opened her eyes, confused.
Sasha stood between her spread legs, looking down at her. His face was expressionless, belying his obvious signs of arousal: the red cresting his cheeks, the hard brown points of his nipples, the baseball-bat-hard length of his cock tenting his pants. "I'm giving you one last chance to say no. Otherwise we can finish this in my bed."
She could have sworn she heard her heart cracking, fracturing in her chest. Suddenly she felt naked and exposed and...ashamed. God, so ashamed.
What had she been thinking? That sexing him up would really lead to him realizing they were perfect for each other and should live happily ever after?
Sex cures all. News at ten.
He didn't want her, really want her, not the way she wanted him. Sure, he might have sex with her right now, but he was so inexplicably furious with her it would mean nothing to him. And in the end, it would destroy her.
She shook her head and raised her body off the table. Without looking at him, she adjusted her bra. She heard him walking away and then back. When he extended the crumpled cotton of his shirt, all she could do was stare at it. "It's cleaner than your shirt," he said gruffly.
Of course. She couldn't walk past the reporters with the wet and filthy silk of her tank top underscoring her vulnerability. Facing them at all should have been abhorrent to her, but even that gauntlet didn't seem that challenging right now. It would get her out of here, right? She took the T-shirt with shaking hands and drew it over her head, uncaring of the smear of cherry across the front.
He held out his hand to help her off the table and she almost laughed at his misplaced chivalry. Instead of taking it, she hopped off and steadied her knees to keep from buckling to the ground.
It took every ounce of dignity to lift her chin and look him in the eyes. She nodded once. "I'm sorry."
She was almost out of the kitchen when his whispered reply reached her ears. "Me too."
When Sasha heard the closing of the front door, he turned around, lifted his good leg and rammed his foot into his breakfast table. The little wooden dinette slammed over, one of the legs breaking off. He staggered, his balance off, but managed to steady himself.
Satisfying, but not nearly as satisfying as listening to what his brain and heart were telling him to do---chase down Maira and ask her what the hell she'd been thinking. The only thing that stopped him was the show it would put on for the news crews outside.
Damn her to hell.
Sasha's chest rose and fell as his disillusionment threatened to overcome him. The throbbing in his leg and ribs was incidental. He didn't care what other women did, but Maira...he'd thought Maira was special.
He studied the food on his island, her cheerful basket nestled amongst the foil-covered pans. In reality, she was no different from the other women who'd come crawling out of the woodwork to throw themselves at him as soon as he'd become mildly notorious.
He'd thought the hospital had been bad enough. He hadn't been left alone for a minute. Not that he hadn't entirely been shocked by that. When a cop went down, every available hand came running. It felt like everyone from the captain---who surprisingly enough, had not reamed him out for his reckless actions, but instead shook his hand and told him they would talk later---to beat cops had stopped by.
It had been the odd reactions of some of the women, from the nurses to coworkers he'd barely ever spoken to, that had surprised him and made him long to escape.
Of course, then he'd had to deal with the neighbors and downright strangers who had come by, offering food and...more. The casseroles they came bearing were accompanied by naughty words whispered in his ear. After the first couple, he'd stopped opening his door. That hadn't stopped the ones who had snuck around to his back door. And the messages on his voicemail. He blew out a breath. The reporters and news stations were only part of the contingent hassling him. Strange women had also taken to calling him and propositioning him with things he hadn't even thought were physically possible.
Other men might have found it titillating. But he wasn't other men. He'd never found cop groupies particularly sexy, and he couldn't find anything appealing about a hero groupie either.
How could Maira, of all people, be just like them?
Lavender and capable hands, soft kisses over his face, her voice tenderly murmuring...
Sasha set his jaw. That had been a hallucination, maybe a dream brought on by stress and longing. There had been nothing tender or loving about her stripping her clothes off for him out of nowhere.
He'd wondered, when he first saw her through his peephole, what was up. She'd been wearing her hair loose, a shiny fall of black down her back. Her lips had looked slick, as if she'd applied some sort of gloss. Her eyes were lined with kohl, and they looked dark and mysterious.
Plus, she'd been revealing more skin then he'd ever seen her show off. The red tank had brought out the highlights in her dark hair, her toned arms left bare. The denim skirt had been short, hitting at mid thigh and showcasing a long expanse of tanned brown legs.
God, he loved those legs.
Idiot that he was, he hadn't even considered that she'd been seduced by his new image like the others. He'd been so pathetically happy to see her. He grimaced as he limped his way to the living room and sat on the couch. Lifting her had been a mistake.
His erection, though, didn't care about any pain in his leg. His cock hadn't displayed so much as a twitch of interest around those other women. Let Maira strip her top off in his kitchen and then grind against him on the kitchen table, however, and he was ready for a party. He shuddered and pushed his hand below his loose sweatpants to curl it around his aching cock. Just once. He'd fantasize about this woman just once. Hell, the few times he'd done it before, it had been rushed, in his dreams, accompanied by the slight tinge of guilt over thinking of his friend in such a way.
Now, though, she'd thrust herself front and center into his fantasy, literally in the flesh. He didn't have to sneak the occasional guilty look and wonder what she looked like under those baggy cotton scrubs. She'd emblazoned herself in his mind in Technicolor. Christ, her full breasts were in perfect proportion to the rest of her long, strong body. They'd spilled out over the top of that black lace bra. Her skin color was naturally darker than his everywhere, but not her breasts and belly. The heavy mounds and slight roundness of her stomach had been pale and soft.
He stroked his cock rougher, twisting just under the head. He swallowed, still able to taste her nipple in his mouth. She'd been so sweet, a mixture of cherries and her own unique taste. He should have pulled his sweats off right there and stroked his cock between those luscious breasts, dragged it down her stomach, yanked the black silk panties off and...
With a hiss, he came, his orgasm long and potent. He gasped when it was over and rested his head against the back of the sofa.
One last time.
He'd forget her now. Her appeal had been her direct honesty, her intelligence, her sweetness, not just her looks. He wasn't a man who could be controlled by his cock. If his brain wasn't into a woman, he simply couldn't work up the energy to want her. Plus, he could hold a grudge like no one's business. His family might call that a flaw, but he considered it a blessing.
Yeah. He'd forget her. That was that.
Sasha couldn't get the damned woman out of his mind.
He'd thought of her strong features and mobile mouth as he'd tossed and turned in bed all night.
He'd dreamed of kissing up her toned legs as he worked some therapy on his bad leg in the afternoon.
He'd imagined her licking his belly as he showered and dressed.
He'd fantasized about her long, strong body as he'd tried to avoid backing over a reporter with his truck.
He'd tasted her nipples in his mouth as he made an abrupt but legal U-turn to shake the persistent cameraman behind him.
Bad enough if he was just thinking about Maira sexually. But no. By the time he was sitting on his sister's couch, playing with his niece's toes, Sasha had started replaying every conversation they'd ever had.
"Stop it," he muttered.
His niece grinned at him, revealing a row of tiny teeth. "Unca!"
He smiled back, unable to stay too grumpy with the chortling little girl in his lap. As much as he loved Leyla and Mason, the real reason he hadn't refused to come to dinner tonight was because of Ash. He'd managed to fend off Leyla since he'd come home, despite her initial alarm over his flight from the hospital and her increasingly demanding phone calls that she be permitted to come over and take care of him. He appreciated his sister's love, but he'd needed to be alone, with his own thoughts and company for a while. Unfortunately, that meant he'd gone without his niece as well.
Ash squealed when he pulled her tighter against him in a sudden hug. He gloried in the way her soft little body snuggled trustingly into his. In reality, it may have been only six days since he'd held her last---the day before the shooting, in fact---but it felt like a lifetime. Her pigtails tickled his nose and she leaned back to study him with big black eyes and a toddler's delight and curiosity.
His sister entered the room and smiled at them both. "I think it's bedtime."
"Bedtime!" Sasha scoffed and cuddled Ash closer. "I just got here."
"You got here over two hours ago. You got to feed her, dress her after her bath, and play with her. Trust me when I say it is most definitely bedtime."
He pulled back and studied Ash with a mock frown. "She doesn't look tired." As if the baby was in cahoots, she blinked angelically. Her eyelashes were so long, sometimes he wondered how she managed to keep her eyes open.
"Please. You weren't here earlier. Her schedule's been turned upside down and she's at the point where she's stupid tired and making Mommy crazy." Tiny and petite, Leyla perched on the arm of the chair. As frazzled as she sounded, she still looked tidy and put together in a pair of trim jeans and a button-down shirt.
"Are you giving your mommy trouble, Ash?"
"Yes!"
He looked at Leyla, who rolled her eyes. "It's her new favorite word." Despite her light tone, Sasha couldn't miss the slight tinges of blue beneath her eyes.
A shot of guilt went through him. Of course Leyla was tired. She treated him more like a child than a sibling, a result of losing their parents young. Fretting and worrying were second nature to her, and he'd given her plenty of reasons for both lately. He'd been selfish over the past couple of days, dodging his sister, when he knew it would make her feel better to fuss over him.
At the very least, he could help her now. "Come on, Ash. Time for bed?"
Ash knew what bed meant. Her perfectly arched brown eyebrows drew together in a fierce scowl and she shook her head. "Yes."
He grinned. Her coloring and delicate size was from her mother, but her contrary nature came directly from her father. "Where's Mason?" he asked his sister as he hauled himself up from the couch.
"He's finishing up our dinner. I can put Ash in bed, why don't you sit?"
"No, no problem." He was relieved when she didn't object, though managing the toddler and his cane wasn't the easiest thing to do. He carried his niece down the hall until he got to her room. He felt as he always did when he came in here, big and clumsy. Nothing made a man feel more ill at ease than dancing ballerinas, tiny white furniture and all-pink sheets.
Sasha lay her down on the toddler bed and shook his head when she sat back up promptly. "No, Ash. Bedtime."
His heart tugged when she looked up at him in mute entreaty. He knew that Leyla was worried that Ash didn't talk as much as other kids her age---she went to some Nazi mommy-and-me class where the children hit milestones like genetically engineered robots---but his speech had been delayed as a kid too. Ash was fine. She got her point across when she needed to.
Giving in, he ignored the pain in his thigh and knelt on the floor to gently tuck her into bed. When her head lay on the pillow, he stroked his hand over the silky curls. His hand alone spanned her entire head.
It could have been her.
In a few years, she'd be attending school. She'd be sitting at a tiny desk, struggling to work through her alphabet when some madman could walk right by and open fire.
Sasha dropped his head and stared at the colorful rug. He'd have to go see a shrink, he knew, department mandated. He'd never admit it to anyone, but he was looking forward to it. He needed someone to help him get the images of the crumpled little bodies out of his mind.
Yeah, he was no hero. The media wanted to build him up as some selfless, brave guy? His hands had been shaking when he had leveled that gun, his stomach churning. Hell, their county crime stats were generally limited to narcotics, prostitution and burglaries. Very occasionally they had a murder. For it being Florida, a high-crime state, they were in pretty good shape.
No one could predict the crazies, though. Where they lived, when they would snap. That was the scary part, the part that made life terrifyingly unpredictable.
A flexing beneath his hand made him look up. He lifted his palm off Ash's head to discover her sucking at air, her cupid bow's mouth flexing around an imaginary pacifier. He stroked his finger down her cheek and left the room, careful to leave her door open a crack.
He heard Leyla and Mason's low voices as he entered the dining room. They stood with their heads bowed together, talking about something intense. Though he knew he should announce himself, he stood there for a minute looking at them. As he watched, Leyla lifted her hand and rubbed it over her husband's arm.
He'd behaved badly when he'd discovered his big sister and best friend were falling in love with each other. Part of it had been his natural protectiveness of Leyla, but another part, the part he was still slightly ashamed of, had been a fear of loneliness and separation from the two most important people in his life. It had always been the three of them against the world. Leyla and Mason hadn't ever intended to exclude him, but when they'd come together, started a life together, it had inevitably happened. Since their wedding day a little over three years ago, he couldn't help but be aware of a nagging sense of...loneliness.
That's what made his disappointment with Maira even harsher. He'd never met a woman with whom he'd thought he could find what his sister had. Except Maira.
Stop thinking of her. God, why was it so hard?
Sasha cleared his throat loudly. "Hey, something smells good. What's for dinner?" He'd meant the words to be a light distraction, but now that he considered it, something did smell good. He sniffed again. Familiar, a blend of spices that tugged at something hidden in his memory.
Leyla beamed at him. "You'll see. Dinner's on the table."
He looked at the empty kitchen table. "It is?"
Leyla gave him a slight push. "The dining table, silly."
"We're eating on your dining table? Wow. Is it Thanksgiving?"
"Shut up, smartass. Move."
He walked into the dining room and sat down at one of the chairs. He took in the barely used table, set with Leyla's nicest china, and looked over at where she was sitting down across from him. "What's going on?"
"What? Can't we have a nice family dinner?"
"This is too nice."
"You always were a suspicious child. Can't a girl just be happy to be having her brother over for dinner?"
He opened his mouth to retort something sufficiently smart-alecky when he noticed the slight strain around his sister's eyes. "Yeah. Sure."
When Mason spooned up the thick stew and placed the bowl in front of him, Sasha blinked. "Is that khoresht?"
Mason placed a full bowl in front of Leyla, who murmured her thanks. "Yup."
Sasha leaned in close and inhaled the scent of tomatoes, split peas and onions, mixed with a variety of other spices he couldn't begin to name. He hadn't smelled it since he was sixteen. Once a week until she died, his mother had made the stew.
For the first time in days, he was eager to eat something, and he spooned up a bite of lamb and potato. He had to close his eyes when the flavors hit his tongue. Holy crap, it even tasted like his mother's. He'd been to Persian and Middle Eastern restaurants all his life that hadn't been able to match that taste. All of a sudden, he was sitting back in his childhood kitchen, watching his mother's smooth face as she stirred a steaming pot, tendrils of dark hair curling against her cheeks.
He looked at his brother-in-law. "How did you make it taste like hers?"
He didn't need to elaborate any further. Mason shrugged. "I just tried to remember what I used to see her put in. It wasn't that tough."
Mason had practically grown up in their house, but Sasha didn't think any teenage boy would have been paying attention to what their best friend's mom was making for dinner. He made a skeptical noise.
"He made four batches yesterday, to get just the right mix," Leyla said quietly. She gave her husband a look filled with love.
Mason's high cheekbones reddened and he cleared his throat. "She's exaggerating."
Sasha put down his spoon. Leyla and Mason hadn't even lifted theirs. Leyla's fingers were fiddling with her fork while Mason played with his glass of water. They had both lost weight, he realized. He swallowed. "Guys, it was just a scratch. I'm fine, really."
He felt more than a little wretched when his sister's eyes filled with tears. "It could have been worse. You've never been in real danger."
"This kind of thing is one in a million. You know this town. Hell, the biggest danger I've been in before was a rowdy kid or an angry wife beater."
"I know that." Leyla sniffled. "My brain knows that. My heart is just hurting at the thought of you going back on the beat."
Sasha stifled a smile. His sister loved cop terminology. "I won't be going back anywhere 'til I get the all-clear." Which would take longer than just the time it took to recover from his injury and get the okay from the investigators and psychiatrist. Thanks to the positive press, the captain couldn't truly reprimand him for his renegade actions, but Sasha'd spoken with the man this morning and been informed it would be best if he took a few extra weeks of his saved-up vacation time. The "to think about what you did" had been left unsaid, but it had been heavily implied.
He reached across the table and squeezed Leyla's hand. "When I do go back, I need you to not worry. I can handle myself. Even if something like this happens again, I'm still going to be the one who's standing at the end. Okay?"
Leyla gave him a watery smile. "Okay."
"In the meantime, you guys need to stop treating me like I've returned from the grave." He thought of Maira. "I've about had it with people treating me like I'm someone different."
Mason cleared his throat and blinked rapidly. He clapped Sasha on the shoulder. "It was just hard on your sister. Bear with her."
Sasha pursed his lips, happy for the opening. "Just her? Dude, you saying you didn't slave over a hot stove for me?"
"Ah, hell, you know Leyla can barely boil water. If Ash is going to learn anything about her culinary heritage, it's going to have to be through me."
When Leyla tossed a dinner roll at her husband, the tension in the room broke. They settled in to eat, and Sasha was relieved to note some of the wet gleam vanish from his sister's eyes the more time passed.
Sasha wiped his mouth with a napkin and settled back in his chair, letting out a gusty sigh. "Man. That was some good stuff. I'm glad you're making my sister such a good wife, Mason."
Mason topped off their wine and set the empty bottle down. "Ha. You are so damn funny."
"Seriously, I don't think she appreciates you enough. Leyla, when was the last time you took this guy out for a night on the town?"
"If it'll make you feel better, maybe I'll show him exactly how much I appreciate him once you go home tonight." She paused. "Was that too vague? I meant in bed."
He scrunched up his face. Only half the disgust was feigned. The only thing un-sexier than his sister having sex, would be, like...no, there was nothing un-sexier.
Unfortunately, Mason smelled fresh blood. He leaned in, his face glowing with delight. "Yes! Make him hear all the dirty things I do to you. Oh wait, no, I think it's my turn to be tied up tonight..."
"No!" Sasha clamped his hands over his ears and glared. "Enough. Fine. Truce."
Mason laughed. Leyla was more dignified, but she gave a slight smirk as she stood and picked up her plate. "Are you finished?"
"Yeah. I can get it."
"No, sit."
He was full enough and tired enough to listen. He slumped back in his chair, relaxed for the first time in days.
"Did Maira come by yesterday?"
His sister's innocent question zapped all of the relaxation out of him. "What?"
"Maira?" Leyla looked through the pass-through of the kitchen as she ran the water over the dishes. "She said she was going to try to stop by."
He made a noncommittal noise, determined not to let either of them guess anything.
"What?"
"Yes. She came by."
The water shut off, and Leyla came back into the room, drying her hands on a towel. A slight frown knit her brows together. "Why did you say it like that?"
"Like what?"
"With that tone."
"I said four words, Leyla. I didn't have a tone."
"Sweetheart, you're right. I'm pretty sure I heard a tone too."
"Shut up, Mason."
"Did something happen?" Leyla asked.
He shrugged and took a sip of his wine. Avoiding their gazes worked for about a second, but then his eyes ping-ponged back to his sister's stare. "Nothing big."
"Did you have a fight?"
He snorted before he could stop himself. When Leyla's eyes narrowed, he realized his tactical error. "It wasn't exactly a fight." To fight, you needed to have two people with a difference of opinion. There was no opinion here. He was right, and she had been wrong. Black and white.
"Oh, Sasha. What did you say to her? Did you hurt her?"
That his sister was taking Maira's side irritated him to no end. Never mind the fact she had no idea what, if anything, had even happened. "No, I didn't hurt her." He paused when the image of her sad face popped into his mind. That hadn't been hurt. Surely that had just been mortification. And well-deserved, right?
"She's so sweet..."
"Are you kidding me? She came on to me, Leyla. There, now you know." He shook his head in disgust and drained the rest of the wineglass. He wanted more, his throat suddenly dry, the ache in his chest growing. "She's no different from everyone else who's suddenly wanting to be my best friend." She'd been the only one who'd tempted him toward accepting the offer though.
Leyla closed her eyes. "Oh my God."
Well, that was better. "I know, right?"
"Mason, I think I hear the baby. Can you please go check on her?"
Since he knew Mason would easily run through fire naked to keep his daughter from so much as whimpering, Sasha was surprised when the other man shook his head resolutely. "I don't hear anything."
"Please."
"No. Leyla, my E.R. is full, and I can't let you put your brother back there."
Leyla turned back to Sasha slowly. Fire snapped in her eyes. "You idiot. That woman has been crazy about you since she met you. She finally works up the courage to do something about it, and, being the stubborn, blind fool that you are, I bet you blew up and did something insane, didn't you?"
Sasha blinked at her, unable to process more than a few of those rambling words at a time. "Crazy about me?" He tried to laugh and looked at Mason for support.
His best friend shook his head sadly. "Dude, I was the one who noticed it first. She's got it bad."
"Who are you, Dr. Phil?"
"Nah. I just know unrequited love when I see it."
His stomach churned. "She does not love me."
"Lust then." Mason shrugged. "Whatever."
"You're both crazy."
Leyla huffed a breath. "No, we're both normal. You're the idiot. If you've hurt that woman, so help me God, I will shoot you in the other leg."
Since he knew it probably wasn't an empty threat on Leyla's part, he winced and attempted to defend himself. "You think it's just coincidence that she suddenly decided now was the time to act on this long-standing desire?"
"Hmm, I don't know." Leyla held up her hand and ticked off the points on her fingers. "Is it a coincidence that Mason decided yesterday he needed to figure out how to make your favorite meal? Is it a coincidence that for your first time over since you got out of the hospital, I pulled out my wedding china? This is just a wild guess, but maybe she was so relieved you were okay and freaked out that you'd actually gotten hurt in the line of duty, she decided it was time to bite the bullet and work up her courage to lay her heart on the line." Her scowl was utterly black. "Of course, I may be completely wrong, and she really is just a hero groupie."
His stomach hurt. Before he could respond, a thin cry interrupted them. Leyla's mouth tightened, and he felt like something that had been scraped off the bottom of her shoe. "Excuse me." She swept out of the room.
He and Mason sat in silence, the slight murmur of Leyla's soothing voice carrying from the baby's room. "Are you certain?" he asked, unsure of what else to say.
Mason rubbed his temples. "I came in to check on you before they transferred you out of emergency. You were laying there, unconscious from whatever they'd given you. Maira was standing next to your bed crying. Her hands were shaking, man. She kept trying to clasp them together, but they were knocking like an alcoholic coming off a bender. I've seen that woman stitch up ripped-open heads and stabilize pregnant women who have been stabbed without batting an eye."
Crying? Her hands had been shaking?
The scent of lavender, soft kisses on his face...
That had been real. Oh God. All of it. Sasha swallowed. Maira was the most calm, collected woman he knew. He couldn't imagine what it would take to rattle her.
Sash, God, I love you so much.
Nausea punched him in the stomach as the words replayed in stereo. Too genuine, too leaden with fear and...and caring to be fake. He'd bet his soul she'd said those words. Said them while he was laying in a stupor, not knowing he would hear them and bury them away in his subconscious.
The media attention hadn't prompted her to make a conquest out of him. That emotion, that vibrating intensity, couldn't possibly be faked.
While he'd been tentatively considering a possible romantic relationship with her, she'd fallen in love with him.
He could barely speak. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Mason snorted. "Yeah, that's right. Do you like Maira, check yes or no. Come on. You're almost thirty, you're old enough to go after what you want." He hesitated. "Though now that I think about it, maybe I should have talked to her. She's so professional and mature, I forget how young she is. I've never seen her with a man. In fact, other than you, the only men she seems really comfortable with are the ones who are married. I can't imagine she's had a ton of experience."
Sasha rubbed his hand over his mouth. "I fucked up."
"Yeah."
He closed his eyes briefly. After checking to make sure his sister was still gone, he leaned in close. "No, I really fucked up. She stripped her shirt off. I accused her of just wanting me because of the cameras, made out with her a little on my dining table, acted like an asshole and watched as she ran out."
"Oh."
"I fucked up."
"Indeed." They were silent. Mason fiddled with his napkin. "So...do you like Maira?"
"I've always liked her. I was thinking lately..." Sasha paused awkwardly, since he wasn't really good at talking about his personal life, not even to his best friend, "...maybe it might be something more."
"More? More as in, you-like-having-lunch-with-her more, or more as in you'd-die-if-you-never-saw-her-again more?"
He stared at his friend. Never see her again?
Never talk to her about a problem, never hear her laugh, never ever have any contact with her? Every fiber in his being rejected that scenario. "I...I can't not see her again. I just can't."
Mason brightened. "Okay. This is good, awesome."
"Good?" Nothing was good about this situation. Nothing.
"Well, it would really suck if you were disgusted at the thought of kissing her or something. I think it's pretty clear what you have to do."
"What?"
"Tell her that you fucked up, that she's a goddess among women, and you didn't mean anything that you said."
"And if that doesn't work out?"
Mason frowned at him. "It'll work."
Sasha thought of the courage it must have taken Maira---reserved, shy Maira---to strip her shirt off for him in the bright daylight of his kitchen. He thought of the things he'd said and her shamed, heartbroken face as she'd run out. Misery coiled inside of him. "And if it doesn't?"
Mason sighed. "Then lock her in a room, get down on your knees, and don't get up until she's ready to listen to you beg."
It was definitely easier to think about begging for forgiveness than it was to actually get up the gumption to go do it.
Sasha sat in his truck and stared at Maira's little gingerbread house. The windows were all dark. And why wouldn't they be, he thought with a grimace. It was almost eleven. If she wasn't at work, she was tucked safely away in bed.
Of course, thoughts of her in bed led quickly to thoughts of him in her bed. He shifted. Nice thoughts. Very nice indeed.
A tinge of shame made him shake the image away. He didn't have the right to think of her like that right now. Focus.
He considered her dark house. He couldn't very well just go marching up to her door and apologize. And he couldn't call her and do it over the phone.
Actually, you could do either of those things. Sasha reluctantly conceded that. If he wanted to salve his conscience or just wanted to put her at ease enough that she'd let them go back to being friends, he would have no problem picking up his cell and phoning his apology in.
He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. He didn't want that. He was greedy. He wanted more.
Maybe, just maybe, Maira was the only woman he'd ever really considered getting serious about because Maira was the only woman for him.
Oh yeah, you think?
He winced. No one had ever called him brilliant. Particularly where women were concerned.
Just go home. If it were you who had been humiliated like this, would you forgive? Maira wasn't him, though. She had a huge heart under that no-nonsense exterior. She loved him.
Sasha's lips firmed. She loved him. It was unthinkable that they wouldn't sort this out. Hell, he wasn't about to take something like this laying down. He'd win her back.
A plan.
He smiled as the idea solidified in his mind. Yes. He needed a plan. All of his problems tended to happen when he went rushing into things, right? He'd come up with a step-by-step plan to win his woman back. If he did things right, he'd have her for keeps.
Almost giddy with relief, he started his car and pulled away from the curb. Just you wait, Dr. Khan. You aren't going to know what hit you.
"Mason?"
Leyla walked into the darkened living room, stumbling over a toy on the ground. When they'd bought this house the week before their marriage, the three bedroom had seemed spacious enough. Less than ten months later, Ash had arrived, bringing a whole bunch of stuff with her. The stuffed duck gave a little jingle as she picked it up and tossed it into the playpen/aka Fisher-Price holding cell.
"Hmmm."
She moved closer to the couch. "Dishes are done, leftovers put away." Leyla happily took the kitchen cleanup duties, since it meant Mason handled the cooking. Cooking, her nemesis. "That was a wonderful dinner."
"Thanks."
"I feel better after having seen Sasha looking so good, don't you?" It was like a massive weight had been lifted off her shoulders. From the minute she'd gotten that horrible phone call from Mason, she'd spent the last week worrying over her brother and his injury. Seeing Sasha walking and talking and being himself, even if that meant occasional acts of boneheadedness, relieved her.
Her husband took a swallow from the highball glass he held. "Yeah."
She cocked her head. "Aren't you coming to bed?"
"In a minute."
Relief made her giddy and giddiness made her naughty. Leaning over the back of the couch, she touched her lips to his ear. "I could make it worth your while."
It always gave her ego a little boost that she could still tempt her husband after two decades of friendship, three years of marriage, and one child. And he was most definitely tempted. She could tell by the slight tightening of his muscles, the inhale of breath.
Normally, he would have tumbled her down onto the sofa with him. Now, though, he remained seated. "I'll finish my drink first."
She considered the amber liquid in the glass. "What are you drinking?"
"Whiskey."
Another oddity. Mason rarely had anything stronger than beer. "Since when do you drink whiskey?"
He considered the glass and then downed the whole thing. "Since I found it in the cupboard."
"It's probably from our Christmas party last year. You said it tastes like medicine."
"It's not bad. Maybe my tastes are maturing. I am thirty now."
"And I'm thirty-four," she said dryly. "Does that mean I need to start drinking hot toddies?"
Instead of laughing, he rested the glass on his knee and stared moodily out the window. "Maybe I'm having a mid-life crisis."
She frowned. It wasn't that Mason never sulked or brooded. It was just that it happened so rarely, and she usually had a pretty good inkling of when it would happen. He was sunny by nature, and his easygoing personality helped make their life together...well, easy.
He was under a ton of stress, though, Leyla realized with a pang of regret. As much as she had worried over her brother, he'd had to worry about Sasha in addition to the other patients. "Do you want to talk about anything, Mason?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
This time, he didn't respond, only grunted. Leyla bit the inside of her cheek. Mason had a tough time concealing anything. It wouldn't take long to get him to talk.
She straightened and smoothed her hands along his shoulders, beginning a slow massage of taut muscles. Her fingers slipped over the broad planes, the flesh tight and hot under her palms. Amusement vanished. His shoulders were rock hard. She hadn't realized how tense he was until she laid her hands on him. Poor guy.
She concentrated on working the kinks out of his neck and back, stopping only when he reached behind him, grabbed her hand and drew her around the couch. She slipped easily into his lap, his arm loosely encircling her waist. No one told you about these little bonuses that came with being married. Like just being able to slide into someone's embrace whenever you felt like it. It was so very nice.
He rested his forehead against hers. Their breaths mingled. She knew his scent better than her own. And she knew when he was upset sometimes even before he did. "What's wrong?"
He shook his head, his hand slowly stroking up and down her back.
Yeah, he was about to crack. With the lightest of touches, she brushed a kiss near the corner of his mouth. "Something's up. Tell me." She kissed him again. "Please?"
His hands clenched at her waist. "It could have been you. Or Ash."
The honest anguish in his voice startled her into tightening her arms around his neck. "What?"
He took a deep breath. "You remember when I was in med school you would tease me about how paranoid I was?"
Leyla remembered. It seemed like every time she talked to Mason back then, he was spouting some gloom and doom about a new illness or disease.
"I mean, it's like, we get hit upside the head with all this knowledge about how fragile the human body is, all the horrible things that can go wrong with it. And then we practice and it all kind of becomes commonplace. You...you get used to it, used to people dying or getting sick. Or you just think, it can't happen to you or the people you love." He glanced up at her, his eyes unfocused. "Even when Ash was born. I know about all of the stuff that can go wrong with babies. But I held her and I was so damn certain none of it would happen to her. She wouldn't have CP or die from SIDS or drown in a pool. Not our baby."
He shuddered. "Those parents at the hospital. They're all just sitting around and waiting. How many of them thought the same thing when they held their babies? In a few years, Ash is going to have to go to school. That could be her. Or you. That teacher, she was just at work. You're in the lingerie store by yourself so much, what if someone comes in and opens fire?"
She didn't realize she was crying until she tasted the saltiness of her tears. "Oh, Mason. Why didn't you tell me you were struggling with all of this?" The horror of the shooting had touched her, but obviously not to the degree it had affected him. Her reality had revolved around her brother. Mason had witnessed every person who rolled through the hospital doors.
He sucked in a ragged breath. "When I heard the cop who got injured was Sasha...it was like my world got turned upside down, and I started thinking about all this stuff. You and Sasha and Ash...I don't have any family but the three of you. If he can be hurt, that means you and the baby... God. I think I'd die, Leyla."
Her heart clenched. "Don't say things like that. Listen to me. Look at me, Mason."
He used the trick she'd been on to since he was about thirteen and trying to avoid her gaze, looking just over her left shoulder. She grasped his chin in her hand and made him look directly at her. "Sure, bad things happen. I worry every time you have a night call and you drive to and from the hospital because you're tired. I worry that somehow Ash will figure out how to get past the cabinet locks and into the Drano. I worry a million times over about the fact that Sasha carries a gun while at work." She made a face. "Though maybe that worked out for him this time. The point is, I will never stop worrying about any of you. You're all the family I have too. But just because something bad could happen, doesn't mean we can all bury ourselves in our home and never come out again. It just means we have to enjoy the time we have together." She gave him a watery smile. "Listen to me, I sound like a Hallmark card."
He gave a bark of laughter. "Yeah, you do."
She hugged him tight and savored the solid feel of him against her. It would take him, and her, some time to get over this. Amazing how the actions of one crazy man with a gun could create ripples of trauma and pain, touching people who weren't even directly involved in the crime itself.
She brushed her lips across the base of his neck. He shifted. The heavy thickness of his erection, obvious through the soft denim of his jeans, surprised her. So did the fast, almost painful kiss he delivered.
She responded, opening her mouth, allowing her tongue to touch his. Immediately his arms hardened around her and he crushed her closer. His lips turned from gentle to devouring, sucking on her tongue, her lips.
He anchored a hand in her hair so that his palm cradled the nape of her neck. Tilted her head to get deeper access. She broke away with a gasp. "Mason..."
There was something hot and a little wild in his eyes when she looked at him. He closed his eyes and swallowed. "I'm sorry. I just..." He shook his head. "I'm not sorry. I need you. Now."
She stroked a finger over his wet lip and then drew it away to kiss him with exactly the same amount of bruising force he'd shown her. "Then take me."
The blue of his eyes deepened to cerulean. "The baby."
"Is fast asleep. But let's go to the bedroom just to be on the safe side, hmm?"
He released her hips and leaned back on the couch. "Run."
He didn't need to say anything else. The "or else" was heavily implied. With a half laugh, half squeal, she darted out of their living room and down the hall, thanking God that their daughter's room was on the other side of the ranch home.
His rasping breath sounded louder as he gained on her. She knew he was being careful to keep barely a step or two behind her. Her heart thudded as she flew through the door of their master bedroom, more from excitement than actual exertion. She pivoted at the sound of him closing and locking the door behind them.
As soon as the lock was turned, he tore his T-shirt off over his head and tossed it aside. His jeans and boxers were unsnapped, unzipped and down his legs in seconds as well, leaving his already hardened cock bared.
Well hello.
She met his gaze, and wanting to play with that desperate edge just a little bit more, turned and lunged across the bed.
He caught her easily---she would have been disappointed if he hadn't. Gripping her around the hips, he dragged her back until she was on her hands and knees, her ass in the air. He leaned in close and nuzzled her hair aside. "It'll be hard."
She shivered. They had a satisfying sex life. But with marriage and a child came mortgages and play dates and the occasional monotony.
That particular tone, the rough demand and need from her husband, didn't come too often, and she reacted to it as if he'd poured gasoline right onto a small fire. Her body relaxed submissively below his dominant one, her core wetting and readying for the pounding thrusts of his body. "I don't mind."
He growled, already reaching below her, and he unsnapped and unfastened her jeans. A few jerks and he had them and her panties off. "Give me your hands."
Another rush of arousal flooded through her pussy as she placed her hands behind her back. He readjusted her body so her head and shoulders were flat against the bed, her ass lifted to the sky. She heard rustling and felt him loop fabric around her wrists.
"Are those...?" Her breath hitched, the idea scandalous.
"Your panties," he confirmed, with a wicked edge to his voice. He paused, as if he were enjoying the view. "God, you look so sexy. Tied up with your own panties, your ass and pussy offered up for me..." He stroked her exposed buttocks and dipped his finger into her channel. She moaned and raised her hips higher. He fucked her lazily with his forefinger.
Ignoring her small whimper of protest, he removed his finger and smoothed his hands higher, coasting them up her sides and under her yellow T-shirt. "And then up here, you're still all prim and proper soccer mom." He bent over her so his cock rode the crevice of her ass. He shoved the cups of her bra down, filling his hands with the mounds and pinching the nipples with exactly the amount of pressure she needed. "It's so hot. I love the difference."
She turned her head to try to capture his lips to seduce him into giving her what she craved. He withdrew his hands and slowly stretched so he stood behind her again. He delivered a small, almost careless pat to her ass cheek. "Stay still. I'll be right back."
She heard him walk away and rested her cheek against the comforter so she could watch him enter the closet. The thought of what they kept there, tucked away on the top shelf in an innocuous shoebox out of reach from inquisitive little hands, made her burn even more.
It felt like he was gone forever. Instead of abating her lust, it only drove it higher, each tick of the clock on the nightstand sounding off the beat of the blood flowing in the inflamed tissues of her pussy. The air conditioning kicked on, blowing over the wetness. Her bra was twisted below her breasts and her nipples rubbed against the cotton of her shirt. All of it inflamed her further.
She watched him exit their large walk-in closet with a tube of lubrication and a vibrator. Judging from the high flush on his cheeks and the curve of his cock, his arousal was unabated as well.
He tsked when his eyes met hers. "I thought I told you not to move."
"If you'd hurry up, maybe I wouldn't have had to."
Laughter danced in his eyes as he walked toward her waiting body, stalking behind her once again. "You're awfully demanding for someone who's tied up and at my mercy."
Her body ached. "Please, Mason."
His fingers found the opening of her pussy. The cold air hit her as he opened her and she waited, tensed, for the broad head of his cock.
Instead, she felt the nubby, rubbery texture of the vibrator. She gasped as he drove it in with a strong, sure thrust. She was wet enough that he was able to push it in to the base without waiting for her to adjust. He pulled it out almost as quickly so the head of it just kissed her opening. "Put it back," she gasped.
He turned it on the lowest possible setting and then shoved it in again. He only gave her a second to enjoy it before removing it.
He did that for a few strong thrusts until she was whimpering, her body aching with emptiness. The vibrator had nothing on his cock---the rubberized prop couldn't begin to compare with him, either in size or feel. When he withdrew the next time, she rocked back, her impatience making her hungry.
"Did you want something?" he asked her, his tone as casual as if he were asking what side dish she preferred with her dinner.
"Mason, stop teasing me or I'll kill you."
He chuckled and held the fake cock at the entrance of her pussy lips, nudging it just inside. "Show me what you want. Fuck this for me."
She didn't need any more encouragement. She rocked her hips back and forth, fucking the vibrator he held motionless. He groaned. "Now this is an even prettier picture."
What a spectacle she must be making of herself, her ass raised and naked in the air as she screwed the vibrator he held, her pink panties twisted around her wrists. Her breath came faster, her body moving quicker.
Though she was lost in desire, she couldn't miss the snap of the lubrication tube's cap. She stilled, knowing what was coming next and craving it with every breath she took.
"Do you know what would make this picture even better?"
She nodded, her forehead against the mattress.
"I wonder if I should be nice and give you a choice as to what I'll use to fuck your ass."
Her breath caught. "Don't."
He spread her cheeks. The dollop of lubricant he squirted on her anus was cold, but warmed quickly as he used his thumb to push it inside. "Don't what?"
"Don't be nice."
He cursed, the sound rough and low. In the next instant, the broad head of his cock breached the entrance to her ass. The tight ring of muscle resisted him at first, but he knew her body well. In a couple inches then out one, then in again until he was lodged balls deep. He paused for a moment, and the rubber of the vibrator steadily breached her pussy until she was completely filled.
With a flick of his wrist the vibrator turned on to full blast, shocking every nerve ending and causing a hell of a climax to rush through her. He fucked her through the contractions in her pussy, moaning as her ass tightened on him. Her body didn't stay empty for even a second. She came to reality, panting and exhausted to find him still steadily pumping inside of her. He pulled the vibrator from her pussy and tossed it next to her, grabbing her hips, all of his focus on his own pleasure. She closed her eyes and weathered the ride, taking his thrusts and his passion. He gave a low groan and thrust into her one last time, his balls slapping against her flesh, as he came long and hard.
He caught himself on his arms and withdrew slowly, her ass letting him go in small increments. He fumbled with the fabric around her wrists and then her hands were free. Mason helped her lower them from her back and turned her over, arranging both of them until she lay in the crook of his arm, her head on his chest. He used the arm encircling her to rub feeling back into her limbs as they stared at the ceiling and caught their breath.
"I don't mean for this to diminish all the other times we've made love," he rumbled. "But. Wow."
"Mmmm." She turned her head and kissed his chest. "We need to do this more often."
"Have crazy wild sex?"
"Yup." She rolled over and stacked her hands on his chest. "I love our sex life. But I think it's nice to toss in moments like this." She left the rest unsaid: if something happened to either of them, she wanted no what-ifs, no regrets.
They knew each other so well she didn't need to say it. He drew her closer and pressed a light kiss on her lips.
"You need to get married."
"Mmm."
"I mean it, Maira, you're going to be twenty-five in just a few weeks. That's the perfect age for marriage."
Maira sighed. Only her mother would have marked out a window of marriageable age for her daughters. She allowed her parent's softly accented voice to flow over her while she effectively zoned out. There wasn't much to distract herself with in the tiny cramped office she shared with other doctors. After she counted the babies in the poster someone had hung on the back of the door---and what sick person put babies in pots anyway?---she started to sort through the paper on her desk.
"...turn your skin lighter!"
She frowned and readjusted the phone between her shoulder and her ear. "What?"
"I said, your aunt told me that your cousin used this cream that promises to turn your skin two shades lighter in a month. You know Rabiah got engaged last week."
"Let me get this straight. You want me to bleach my skin so I can land a husband?"
"It's a cream. It's not a bleach."
"What it is is a gimmick. Come on, Mom." Really, why was she surprised? Her mother was constantly trying to fix her defects so she could become more attractive to a good man.
Men do like doctors, sweetheart, but try not to act too smart.
It's nice that you have height, so why don't you wear flats? That way you won't tower so much.
You need to get out of those scrubs. None of your colleagues are going to be attracted to someone they see as just a coworker.
"I think it could work."
"I like my skin the color it is, Mom," she said, as mildly as she could.
"You're getting irritated."
"No, I'm not."
"I think I'll come down and visit you."
Without making a sound, she slapped her hand against her forehead. Her parents lived about two hours away. When she'd taken this job, it had been a nice change to be within driving distance of her family after she'd been across the country for college and medical school.
She was an idiot.
"I need to go visit Sonia and the baby soon anyway. I'll stop by to visit you once I'm done there."
Her older sister lived between her and her parents. Sonia, as her mother reminded her often, had married a nice Pakistani-American man right around twenty-five, and popped out an adorable baby ten months later. Well, maybe her mother would get so satisfied seeing her sister's perfect life, she wouldn't need to spend anytime harping about hers. Maira could dream, couldn't she?
"Mmm. Oh, look, my pager's beeping. I have to go."
"Don't frown."
"What?"
"When you're rushing and stressed you tend to frown. It'll leave lines on your forehead."
Argh! What the hell? Maira caught a glimpse of her face in the framed mirror on the wall. The frown that was so obviously reflected back at her only made her more irritated. She consciously relaxed. "Goodbye." She placed the phone down and then leaned back in her seat, stretching. Her mother was going to kill her.
She could get a man, if she wanted...
Maira stopped mid-stretch. Because that little sentence, which usually worked wonders on her self-esteem after one of these discussions with her mom, didn't really apply anymore, did it?
She had wanted. She hadn't gotten.
She closed her eyes and tried to push thoughts of that particular man out of her brain. So, what? So she'd chosen unwisely. It certainly wasn't her. It was him.
You're not too smart.
Nope.
Or too tall.
She was the perfect height.
Or not pretty enough.
She could be pretty. She glanced down at her usual uniform of light blue scrubs. Maybe not every day, but she had a hectic job, and the scrubs were comfortable. She was pretty when she tried. Hell, she'd gone all out for him the other day.
She'd gambled, she'd lost, and that was that.
Any minute now, she'd stop thinking about him and how monumentally stupid she was.
Her shoulders sagged. Gah, who was she kidding? In one way or another, he'd been on her mind for the past five days, since that horrible farce in his kitchen. After she'd sobbed her heart out for a full day and night---clutching a pillow against her chest, teen-heartbreak style, no less---she'd quickly traded shifts so she could throw herself into work, but she was off again today. She'd come in anyway, hoping she'd find something to distract her. Lord knew, she was too practical and reasonable a person to stomach much more mooning.
Plus, vulnerability in any form didn't fly in her line of work. The E.R. was still a boy's club. For a woman to play, one needed a certain degree of arrogance and confidence. Self-doubt was an insidious creature, worming over from agonizing about looks and desirability to affecting the skills she needed to perform effectively.
With a determined shove, she pushed back from the desk and promptly hit the filing cabinet behind her. She gathered six bulging bags of toys that sat on the floor. In an effort to avoid going home last night---not because she was avoiding thinking of that man, she just didn't want to go home---she'd decided to pick up a couple of little gifts for the two kids who had fought their way out of the intensive care unit. The other children from the attack had already been discharged.
Since she'd felt bad about excluding the other children in the ward, she'd picked up enough to cover everyone. It had taken a chunk of change, but, well, she had no one else to spend her discretionary income on.
She was almost able to forget him as she distributed the presents. The children's enthusiasm lightened her grey mood. By the time she reached the last door, she was pleasantly energized.
That is, until she opened the door and saw a very familiar face sitting negligently in the armchair next to the young boy she'd come to visit. She would have retreated quietly and shut the door, but Sasha turned his head, his black eyes flaring when he looked at her.
Well now you'll just look stupid if you back out. She fixed a determined smile on her face and entered the room.
Carefully avoiding looking at him, she studied the little boy in the bed. "Hey there, Dylan. How's it hanging?"
"Hey, Dr. Khan. Did you come to visit me too?"
"Just for a minute." She wiggled the small box in her hand. "Thought you might be getting bored. Your mom said you like puzzles, so I brought one for you."
Dylan's small face lit up. He was a sweet, towheaded little boy, the last one to be upgraded from critical to stable two days ago. A bandage was wrapped around his head where a bullet had hit him. Another was wrapped around his chest. All in all, Maira knew it was considered something of a miracle he hadn't died.
"Thanks. Lieutenant Karimi came by to visit me."
Since she couldn't completely ignore Sasha now, she cast him a dismissive glance. She was startled to find him watching her with a steady black gaze. There was no anger or disgust in his look. It snared her, made it impossible to look away. She gave a slight incline of her head. "Lieutenant."
"Doctor."
His voice sounded deep and gravelly. With great effort, she tore her gaze away and smiled at the boy. "That's very nice. It's great to have visitors."
"When I heard Dylan here was doing so much better, I had to come and say hi." Sasha stood and reached out a hand to gently pat the boy's leg. "I better get going though."
Thank God. She felt immediately uncharitable when Dylan's face fell. "Will you come back?"
"Sure. Your parents said they didn't want to tire you out though, so it may be a couple of days."
The kid had no small amount of hero worship for the big cop who had saved his life. No doubt he'd heard the story. Sasha was easy to idolize. Not only did he look like a hero, he acted like one too.
Stop thinking about him like that.
Nothing wrong with admiring the way a man does his job.
He stopped briefly in front of her. She had the feeling he was going to say something, and she just couldn't stand it. With a quick nod, she stepped aside.
The moment passed and he left the room without speaking further.
She spent some time chatting with Dylan, but left after a few minutes, hoping that would be enough time for Sasha to have left the floor. Hell, the building. As she traversed the corridor, she tried to avoid thinking of the man by making her grocery list. In alphabetical order.
She'd only gotten to cauliflower when a pair of footsteps fell in place next to hers. Her skin prickled, the fine hairs on her neck rising up. She didn't even need to glance over to confirm her suspicions. The best defense... "May I help you?" Her tone was pure stiff snootiness. So much for trying to act unaffected.
"I need to talk to you."
"No thank you."
"I went by your place yesterday, but you weren't home."
She masked her surprise. "I was working."
"Maira, look at me."
She kept her gaze firmly on the sterile tile in front of her. No way she'd take the elevator back down to her office. It was harder to ignore a person on the elevator. She kept grimly silent as they passed the nurses' station and walked down the isolated hallway that led to the stairs. She quickened her steps. She had such long legs, people usually had a tough time keeping up with her, but not Sasha. He easily lengthened his stride to match hers.
He sighed. A second later, a strong hand wrapped around her arm, and she was hauled through an open door. The darkness closed around her as Sasha shut the door behind him. The lock made a clicking noise as he slid it into place. The slight hint of ammonia swept over her.
Janitor's closet, was her first thought.
What the fuck, was her second.
"What the fuck?" she growled and spun around. She could just barely make out the basic shape of his hulking body.
"Ms. Maira, are you cursing?"
His teasing tone, so utterly normal and common before everything had exploded, fanned the flame of anger in her chest. Before she could think, she hauled back her arm and punched him in the stomach.
He didn't even flinch, the bastard. "You've got potential, but you hit like a girl."
She was equally furious and alarmed. She'd never hit anyone, not in her entire life. She was usually calm to the point of being comatose. "You may not realize it, but I am a girl."
His shadowy hulk froze. When he spoke again, his tone was gentle. "I realize it."
The anger drained away, as quickly as it had come. Why was he torturing her like this? Did he just want to punish her some more? "What do you want?"
"You wouldn't talk to me."
"So you're detaining me inside of a janitor's closet until I do?"
"Yeah."
"This is ridiculous."
"I know. I didn't think I'd actually have to lock you up to get you to listen to my apology."
Wait, what? Apology? Now she was really startled. "Mr, I-never-back-down is apologizing?"
He sighed. "Yes."
Her heart raced. It doesn't mean anything. "What are you apologizing for?"
"Um. Because of what I said, the other day. I mean, I've known you awhile. I should know well enough that you're a good person, you're not like others. You're not a fake and you're not a groupie. I shouldn't have treated you like that. And, I'm sorry." He hesitated. "Is there something else I should be apologizing for?"
Yes. You should apologize for not loving me the way I love you. You should apologize for not seeing how perfect we are together.
"No," she said tightly. "Sounds about right. Thanks."
She moved to get past him, but he seized her by the arms. "You don't sound happy."
"I'm fine. Thrilled. Let me go."
"You didn't let me finish."
God, didn't he get that it was killing her to be so close to him in such close confines? The heat radiating from his body was torture. "I have to go." She shoved her body weight against him, taking him by surprise. His hold loosened, and she managed to scoot past him. Her hand was on the doorknob when his body pressed up against the back of hers. She froze, the thin cotton of her scrubs doing nothing to keep her from feeling all of him.
His hands encircled her waist, his cheek pressed against hers. He inhaled and exhaled right next to her face, and she realized they were breathing in tandem.
"Do you---do you make a habit of pushing women up against doors?" She hadn't meant for the question to come out, particularly not in the half-flirtatious way it may have sounded to him.
"Only you." He pressed closer and moved his mouth next to her ear. "You didn't let me finish. The reason I was so mad, so crazy the other day, was because I felt betrayed and...disappointed."
She held her breath until she felt lightheaded. "Betrayed?"
"Yeah. I mean, here I was all this time, liking you, slowly feeling you out, not trying to rush you, and suddenly I thought you were acting like every other woman out to get a piece of me. I was furious, yeah, but I was also hurt. It doesn't excuse what I did or said, but, well, maybe you can better understand why I did it."
Wait. Wait.
He'd bombarded her with so much, she couldn't begin to process all of it. "Liking me?"
He sighed. "Yes. Maira, you're more than just a friend to me."
"Your sister." She'd heard that before.
"No. Gross, that's disgusting. I-I have thought of you in a...romantic way. But you're also my friend, and the friend of my relatives, and you're so sweet and young that I didn't want to screw up."
Slowly, it all pieced together, and she had to bite her lip against the pain in her heart. She was his buddy, and she worked with his brother-in-law. He was doing damage control. There was little the man wouldn't do for his family. "Don't."
"Don't what?"
"You're lying."
"I never lie. And if I'd been in my right mind the other day, I would have known well and good that neither do you." He brushed his cheek against hers, the move affectionate and intimate. "We're the same like that, aren't we, honey?"
When she didn't respond, he turned her around. She was too upset to resist. "You're going to make me go all the way, aren't you?" Still cupping her waist in his hands, he slid down her body. She looked down, uncomprehending, her eyes only adjusted enough to make out his general shape in the darkness.
"What are you doing?"
"What does it look like? I'm getting down on my knees."
His head butted against her stomach. Her muscles clenched, shocked at the touch, even through the layer of cotton.
"I've never begged a woman for anything before. Enjoy this."
She tried to think of something sufficiently sassy. "Enjoy it? I can't even see it."
"It's symbolic."
While she was sure it was easier for proud Sasha to kneel in the dark, some of her certainty that this was an act fell away.
"I'm sorry, Maira. I swear, if you had..." He laughed, the sound exasperated. With himself, though, Maira thought. "Yeah, if I'd had any idea, ever, that you wanted more from me than friendship, I would have been all over you. You wouldn't have been able to stop me. I've always been physically attracted to you."
"You---you have?"
"What man wouldn't be?"
"There are prettier women." Was that bleating, insecure voice hers?
His fingers tightened on her hips. He didn't seem to be in any hurry to rise from his position, his head resting against her stomach. "Are you kidding me? You're gorgeous. Remember when we had that Fourth of July picnic last year?"
"Yes."
"You were wearing this pink shirt. It drove me crazy."
She frowned, thinking of her wardrobe. Her repertoire of sexy and slinky was close to nonexistent, not that she would wear something like that to a picnic with friends and colleagues. "What shirt?"
"It had these little pearly buttons down the front."
"You get excited over button-down shirts?"
His thumbs swept over her hipbones. "I do when the top buttons keeps getting loose and you decide to help me set the table. All that bending and stretching..."
Indignation should have been the appropriate response, not the pleasure coursing through her at his words. She did have a pink button-down with a tricky top button, which she may very well have worn to that picnic. He's trained to be observant... But, still. "Dog."
She could feel his smile against her. "Woof."
The darkness made it easier for her to say things she would otherwise stumble over. "You never said anything."
"I know I act all quick-triggered. But when it comes to my personal life, I'm pretty cautious. I don't like casually messing around with women." He sighed. "Instead, I acted like a jerk. I can't tell you how sorry I am for the way I behaved the other day. There are no words. I was mean, and disrespectful, and I should have known better." He nuzzled her stomach. "Please, forgive me. Please."
Her heart twisted. He wasn't just the man she loved; he was her friend. His pride was almost as big as his heart. Sasha didn't beg. That he'd do it for her, after getting down on his knees, made her a believer. "Get up."
"No."
"The floor's probably dirty."
"It's a hospital. How dirty can it be?"
"Your leg. You shouldn't be kneeling."
"It barely hurts anymore. Only when I'm doing the therapy. Forgive me," he repeated, and rubbed his head against her stomach more insistently. The muscles of her abdomen clenched when he turned his dark head. She felt his lips brush against her stomach, once, twice. He leaned back. "Touch me. Put your hands on me."
She didn't question him. As if she was in a trance, she sank her fingers into his hair. She'd never had any reason to touch it before. The strands were cool, the texture like coarse silk, and they clung stubbornly to her fingers. She wished for a brief moment that she could turn the light on, to see her skin next to his hair.
But, no, this was better. The dark stripped her inhibitions away, the ones that often tied her tongue up with the right thing to say, the ones that worried over how to properly conduct a relationship with a man. As she stroked his hair, his fingers lightly brushed up and over her hips.
Her shirt rose until he was brushing kisses against her bare stomach. They were light, almost platonic. She closed her eyes to bring the touch into even greater focus. She felt every centimeter of his skin where it touched hers, from the rough skin at the corner of his lips to the slight rasp of his stubbled chin against her lower abdomen.
His teeth surprised her when they scraped against her; his tongue immediately followed, soothing the flesh. Sasha lifted his head. "The other day...you wanted sex."
She tightened his fingers in his hair, the bald words sitting between them. "Yes."
His next kiss was a bit more aggressive, openmouthed. "Have you ever had sex before, Maira?"
Her cheeks heated. "Technically...no."
"Hmm."
That noise worried her. She could practically see every possible objection he had running through his mind. She was too young, too naive, too...oh hell no. Not when they'd come this far. "It's not like I'm waiting to get married or anything. I just haven't had the time." Or the inclination, she added silently, until she met Sasha.
"Don't make excuses," he said gruffly. "It's not something to be ashamed of."
"I'm not ashamed." She just didn't want anything else to get in their way.
"I'll want more than sex. I'll want more than one night. We'll have to have dinner and go to movies and stuff."
"That's...what we do now."
"Yeah but now, we're going to do it right."
How would she cope? "I can manage," she said dryly.
He placed one last kiss against her belly and lowered her shirt before standing. "Good."
The loud jingling of keys right outside the small closet forestalled anything she might say. Sasha pulled her away from the door and stumbled back a step with her in his arms as the door swung open, narrowly missing slamming into her back. The bright fluorescent light swept inside, blinding her for an instant.
By the time she could see again, Sasha was already herding her past the frowning maintenance man. Blood rushed to her cheeks. She didn't recognize the man. Please God, let him not recognize her. She'd left her white coat off, and other than the hospital name, there were no identifying marks on her scrubs.
"Crazy kids. How many times do I have to tell you people, these closets aren't for foolin' around?"
Sasha squeezed her elbow. Did he think she was going to say something? She was beyond mortified.
"Sorry about that. Won't happen again." Sasha gave the other man an easy smile.
The maintenance man shot them both a nasty look as he reached inside the closet and withdrew a broom. "At least you two are dressed. You'd think these closets say clothing optional on them." He stalked away, still grumbling.
Maira studied the closed door and then looked back to Sasha, who was watching her very carefully. "Ew."
He blinked. "What?"
"I was just wondering how many naked people have been pressed against that door, where I was. There must be so many germs. Ew."
His laugh was deep. She glanced around, hoping no one had heard him. "Shh."
He only laughed harder. She grabbed his arm and tried to tug him to the stairs where they could talk in some degree of privacy. He moved so he could twine his fingers through hers. Before she knew it, they were holding hands and he was grinning as they walked into the stairwell. "I guess public displays of affection aren't in our future, huh?"
It was much more difficult to discuss sexual stuff when she wasn't under a fog of emotional distress or in the darkness of a closet. Nonetheless, she met his eyes squarely. She'd started this, and by God, this was what she wanted. "You can try to woo me. And if it's someplace that seems fairly sanitary, I might agree." There. She sounded a little stiff, but with practice, she'd unbend so her flirtatious comments didn't sound quite so robotic.
Despite her nervousness, it seemed to have some effect on Sasha. Something flared in his dark gaze as they stopped on the first floor landing. "What are you doing tonight?"
"Tonight?"
"Yup."
"I---I have to meet with someone quickly about a patient at five."
"Great. I'll come by your place at seven."
Come by. "What are we doing?"
He leaned in close and brushed a kiss against her lips. It was there and gone before she could even think to enjoy it, and then he was backing away. "Starting our relationship. Don't be late for our first date, okay? This time, we're going to do it right."
Sasha'd never been this nervous, not even when he'd been fourteen and Sally Johnson read the valentine he'd painstakingly labored over. He shut his car off in Maira's driveway and inhaled, breathing in the scent of pasta and meatballs.
If the past week of sleepless nights had taught him anything, it was that his need for Maira wasn't just a fleeting fancy.
He dug the piece of paper out of his pocket. Writing things down had always been his way of clearing his brain. When he couldn't quite articulate something verbally, he could get around it on paper. Lists were a particular favorite of his. Though this particular list had stalled on the first item until he'd seen Maira today.
1. Get Maira to forgive you.
So it wasn't brilliant, and he should probably be ashamed that he hadn't been able to think of anything more for so very long. He smiled. As soon as he had crossed this one off, it was like the juices had really started to flow. The light bulb had shot on, the rest of his plan had coalesced.
2. Woo her (properly. i.e. dinner, movies (girl movies, aka nothing you would normally pick unless you were trying to impress a girl which you ARE trying to do, aka nothing with blood) & all related stuff.)
Okay, perfect, he'd start on that tonight. No problems.

3. No Sex.


3. Non-vaginal sex?


3. Only oral sex.


3. Above the waist.

3. NO SEX.
Yeaaaaah. Number three was gonna be hard. Pun intended.
But it was the critical one. He tapped the star he'd made next to it. Kissing and touching were fine, but sex was not the way to win his Maira. His Maira was not sexually aggressive, not normally.
His Maira was sweet and innocent. A virgin, for crying out loud.
Down, boy.
The rush of primitive satisfaction that coursed through him every time he thought of that was undeniable. He was an official, card-carrying caveman.
Even if she hadn't been inexperienced, he had to do things right. His plan was solid, it was foolproof. After a few months of dating, maybe then they could reevaluate the physical aspect of their relationship. He tossed the list into his glove compartment and closed it with a decisive click. He could handle this.
As he gathered up the bags of takeout and various other romantic weapons in the backseat, he experienced a flash of doubt. Maybe he should have talked this over with someone. Leyla, perhaps.
Nah. What could possibly go wrong? No one could accuse him of being hotheaded or impulsive here, which he knew were his major faults. Who would be able to find fault with an overabundance of caution?
He jogged up the stairs of the front porch and shifted the bulging brown bags he carried to free a hand to ring the doorbell. The strains of Für Elise ringing through the house made him smile, as usual. The whimsical doorbell and this little sunshine-colored gingerbread house always amused him. It was a side of the proper Maira that he bet not many people got a chance to see.
The door opened and his grin got even wider. This wasn't the femme fatale who had come to his house a few days ago, or the professional he'd caught earlier in the day. Yup, this was the subtly sexy Maira he knew. Her hair was caught up in a loose ponytail, a softer, fussier version of her usual look. She'd changed out of the scrubs and into a pair of slim dark jeans and---holy crap, yes---the light pink button-down. Her fingers fiddled with the top pearl button, her slight nerves evident despite the clear message she'd sent with the outfit.
He met her eyes and smiled. "Did you wear that for me?"
Her chin lifted in a subtle challenge. "Maybe." She stood aside to let him in and surveyed him and his similar jeans and cotton shirt. "I was hoping I wouldn't be underdressed."
If anything, you're overdressed--- No. Sasha slammed that thought down as fast as it popped up. Number three. Number three. "Nah. This place doesn't care what you wear."
"What's in the bag?"
He wanted to kiss her. No, he needed to kiss her. Calm down. "Dinner." He cleared his throat. "That is, if you don't mind eating here?" Fuck. He should have asked first. Maybe she had wanted to go out. Maira usually preferred staying in, and since she was such a creature of habit, he figured her home would be a nice, safe place to start shifting the boundaries of their relationship.
He couldn't mistake the relief in her eyes or the smile she gave him. "No, that's perfect. Especially if the cooking's already done. Let me take something."
He moved the bags out of her reach and slipped past her to walk toward her kitchen. "I got it."
Her house was familiar to him, though they tended to hang out more at his place, which was bigger and better suited to entertaining. From the pictures on the walls to the uncluttered tables to the precisely arranged pots hanging above her island, everything was perfectly in its own place. As someone who was military-neat in his own life, a reaction of growing up around the perpetually cluttered Mason, he appreciated Maira's tidiness.
Despite her cleanliness, the place didn't lack warmth. Far from it. Her walls were a simple off white, her furnishings similarly neutral, but the bright yellow of the outside of her house was echoed by bursts of sunshine within. The yellow gingham curtains in the living room, the colorful magnets on the fridge, the bowl of daisies on the kitchen table...
Daisies. Table.
His table.
Maira spread out over his wooden breakfast table, her breasts overflowing that black...
"Did you cook?"
Her words jolted him out of his trance. Holy shit, males really could make anything into something sexual. He cleared his throat and placed the bags on her island. "Ah. I could lie and say I did. Would that impress you?"
"Oh, yes, the famous Karimi aversion to all culinary chores."
He forced an equally light tone. "Sweetheart, stick with me. I'll show you how easy it is to get through life without ever even boiling an egg." He walked over to where he knew she kept her plates.
"I can set the table."
"Nope."
"No?"
He turned with the dishes in hand. "No. Why don't you go put on some music? I can handle this."
She hesitated, but left the room.
He worked quickly, setting the table in record time, helped by the fact he knew where most of her stuff was. That was all he had time to do before he heard the low strains of a saxophone fill the air. Two seconds later, her feet were padding back down the hallway.
Panic. He wasn't done. This had to be perfect.
He took a few long strides to the open dining room entrance and blocked her. "Wait."
"Wait?"
"I'm not ready for you yet. Why don't you..." What else, what else could she do...what the hell did women do on a legitimate date? He thought of previous dates. "Freshen up?"
She arched a brow. "What exactly do I need to freshen up?"
Nothing, damn it. She looked as fresh as the daisies on her table. "Um, your nose."
Her hand flew to her face. "What's wrong with it?"
"It needs to be freshened?"
Her lips twitched, and her hand fell away. "Okay, Sash. I'm going to go powder---"
Yes! Powder their nose. That was what women did.
"---my nose. I'll be back in...ten minutes?"
He thought of what he still needed to do. "That should work."
Once she had left, he wheeled around and strode back into the kitchen. Luckily, getting the food out didn't take long, was just a matter of opening foil pans and dumping the still-steaming food on the plates. Knowing a person made it easier to order for them, that was for sure. At Salvatore's, Maira only ever ordered the spaghetti.
He dropped the pans into the now-empty bag, and then withdrew a bottle of wine and the taper candles and candleholder he'd made an emergency run for before picking up the food.
Damn it, though, he hadn't thought about lighting them. He made an instinctive pat at his pockets, and then rolled his eyes. He didn't smoke. Why would he be carrying matches?
Where did Maira keep her matches? His gaze lit on the stove. Good enough.
He snapped a burner on, lit both candles, and jammed them into the holder. He must have pressed a little too hard, because one of them snapped in two.
Whatever. Sasha shrugged, took out the broken base, and slid in the now-shortened taper. Candlelight was candlelight, right?
In the dining room, he placed the wine bottle between their two place settings, arranged the candles, and then stood back. He frowned, shoved their seats closer together. That was better.
He shut off the light in the kitchen, since it opened into the dining room, and then turned the dimmer switch on the wall. Unfortunately, the light didn't just dim. It blinked off.
He scowled and fiddled with the switch. Damn old wires.
A soft sound alerted him to Maira's presence in the doorway. The dining room had one small window, allowing in a shaft of golden light. That, along with the candlelight, cast a glow around her. The light flickered against her cheeks, softening the strong curves of her face.
She was Maira, and yet...not.
Something shifted inside of him, and he found himself standing in front of her without even realizing how he got there. With a slightly unsteady hand, he reached up to smooth a curl away from her face. Looking up at him, her luminous eyes sucked him right in. "It's lovely, Sasha."
It took him a moment to understand she was talking about his attempts at ambiance. "I wanted to show you how sorry I was."
Her lips curved. "I believed you."
"But I wanted to show you." He hadn't realized how much he needed her forgiveness until he spent a week sleepless over the thought of her hating him.
"Thank you. I still believe you."
Sasha took a step back, and then another. He cleared his throat and extended his hand. "Let's eat."
Her hand fit into his perfectly. He led her to her chair and held it out for her. She murmured her thanks and smiled when she looked down at the plate. "How did you know I was in the mood for Salvatore's?"
Because there wasn't a time when she wasn't in the mood for her favorite restaurant. "Lucky guess."
He poured their wine, and then held up his glass. "To..." His mind blanked. What could he say that wouldn't sound too strong or too weak?
Luckily, Maira came to his rescue. "To new adventures?" she asked softly.
Perfect. He gave her a relieved smile. "Yes."
They tapped their glasses together and began eating. Silence rustled over the table, broken only by the clink of dinnerware and the sound of the jazz music she'd put on in the living room.
With any other person, he would have rushed to fill the quiet with small talk and witty repartee. Not with Maira. She was the only person he'd ever known who made silence palatable for him. The quiet made it easier to watch her. How had he not fallen for her when they'd met two years ago? Why hadn't he sped up his pursuit of her when he'd started to realize how much she meant to him a few months ago?
He had no answers. All he knew was that he couldn't stop noticing little things, like how her long, elegant fingers looked wrapped around a fork or how her pretty lips looked closing over the spaghetti.
His hand clenched around his own fork, and he laid it down in his plate to take a sip of much-needed wine. Suddenly, the silence seemed too intimate, and he tried to fill it. "So how were things at the hospital this week?"
She glanced up and sucked a strand of the pasta into her mouth. He stifled his groan. Polite, she waited to swallow before speaking. "Good. Oh! Ms. Applebaum was upgraded to stable too."
He smiled. "I heard, yes. That's great. I talked to her husband before I peeked in on the kids today."
"Did the man get down on his knees and kiss your feet? Because when I talked to him, that was his game plan," she teased.
He gave a sheepish smile. "He was really nice." The teacher's husband had been almost uncomfortably effusive. Sasha didn't take it too personally. Hell, if his wife had barely pulled through multiple gunshot wounds, he would be thanking God, the cops, the milkman and just about everyone else to boot.
"So Reid is the only one left in ICU now."
That piece of shit. "Good."
She was silent for a minute. "I'm not supposed to agree with you on that."
He smiled. "But you do."
Maira gave him a chiding look. He loved that look. It made her look like a teacher. A hot teacher. "You took a vow, same as me, to protect the public. It shouldn't matter what the person's done."
"And that sounds great on paper. If we were robots, sure, no problem, we could hold our emotions in check from everything we do."
"It's not about emotions, it's about our oath," she argued. "Don't tell me you wouldn't have burnt rubber to get to a shooting if it had been a couple of drug dealers instead of a bunch of kids."
"I won't deny I would have gotten there quickly. But would I have disregarded all protocol and ran full tilt toward it? Probably not." Sasha shook his head. "I snapped when I realized what was happening, Maira. When I think back, I know that. I don't need to get chewed out by the brass to tell me what I did was not a good thing."
"You got into trouble? I didn't hear anything about that!"
He snorted. "Trust me, I got off light, and the captain is so thrilled with all of this good press he's not about to castigate me in front of the media. But it's only because my actions led to a fairly decent ending. Nobody gets that it was pure luck that my aim was good enough to bring Reid down and keep him down."
She sat back, a funny look on her face. "You know, I imagined all of the various ways you could have been wounded worse, but I didn't think it could have adversely affected the kids."
"It's all I think about," he admitted gruffly. "That's one of the reasons I'm getting sick of all this thanks and junk. Reid could have seen me and decided to step up his game, or grabbed one of those kids as a hostage..." He shook his head. "It's like one of those Choose Your Own Adventure books. There are millions of bad ways this could have ended."
"Someone was watching over all of you."
"Mmm. Agreed." Sasha noted the small shiver that ran through her body and felt a pang of regret. "Hey there. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for us to talk about this stuff."
"I don't mind."
"No, we're supposed to talk about light topics."
She smiled. "Did you have a list?"
He didn't. He kind of wished he had. Note to self: do not skimp on the lists. "Of course not. There are just certain things that people talk about on first dates."
He was relieved when she resumed eating. "Like what?"
"Like..." He had to cast around. It had been that long since he'd been on a first date. "What kind of pets we have. Our favorite basketball team. Batman versus Superman."
"You haven't had an animal since your childhood dog died and I'm allergic to anything with hair, neither of us follow basketball, and Batman."
His eyes narrowed. "Peanut didn't die. He ran away."
She tapped her finger against her lips, laughter dancing in her eyes. "Oops. Leyla must have been mistaken."
"Okay, we're going to ignore your misinformation on the first thing, and I'll agree on the second. But Batman? He relies almost exclusively on his toys. Superman has superhuman powers. Take away his suit and he's still a Super. Take away Batman's gadgets and suits, and what have you got?"
She took a sip of wine. "Are you serious? Take away Batman's suit and you have a billionaire who can invent pretty much anything. Superman is kind of a dunce."
"A dunce? How can you say that?"
She leaned forward, all militant and serious. "Because he's lived with his super powers all his freakin' life, and he can't come up with a better disguise than slicking back his hair and snapping on a pair of dorky glasses? Batman has a mask, plus all sorts of getaway devices." She rolled her eyes. "Let's not get started on their uniforms. Superman's stretchy spandex has nothing on Batman's sculpted pecs."
He glared at her. "You cannot bring fashion sense into a superhero discussion!"
"If they wear it, it's fair game." She folded her arms on the table. "Is this supposed to be a light discussion? Because I think we're fighting."
"We're having a disagreement."
"Are disagreements allowed on a first date?"
"Sure. Though usually I think they're over politics or religion."
She smiled. "Whew. I'm glad we got through all those squabbles over the past two years."
"Yeah. Or this conversation could have really broken us up."
"Not necessarily." She leaned in close. He did too. "Spiderman."
He sat back in his chair and grunted. "Could kick both their asses."
"I think so too!"
"You have no idea how relieved I am."
They chatted until a lull fell. Sasha checked his watch, surprised to find that hours had flown by. The candles had burnt low, red wax melting down their sides to pool at the base of the holders. The flames flickered, almost at the end of the wick.
"What time is it?"
He glanced up. "Midnight." They both seemed to realize at the same time that he was holding her hand. He didn't know when he'd grabbed it, just that their fingers were linked. He allowed himself to sweep his thumb over her soft skin before reluctantly releasing her. "Late."
"Mmm."
"You usually go to bed early." She was one of those people who got up when it was still dark outside.
"I don't need a lot of sleep."
She didn't mean to make the words sound sexual, but that was the way they hit his gut. The constant hum of arousal he'd managed to bank flared.
He swallowed and pushed his seat back. Their plates had been emptied long ago, and he picked hers up and put it on top of his.
She half-stood. "I can get it."
"I don't mind. Sit."
He knew she wouldn't. Sure enough, she followed him into her kitchen, bearing the casserole dishes and whatever else he couldn't carry in one trip. "If you want to just put everything in the sink, I can get to it later."
He cast her an incredulous glance. Like hell he was going to make her clean up after their first date. He may be kind of an idiot about relationships, but even he knew that wasn't kosher. "That's fine. I can just wash it while I'm here." He placed everything in the sink and accepted the dishes from her as well.
He turned on the water. While he waited for it to get hot, he rolled up his shirtsleeves.
He didn't have to look to know she stood next to him. He felt the heat from her body. "I'll dry," she said.
"You don't have..."
"Hush. I want to."
Since he didn't particularly want her to leave, he didn't say anything more.
He sank his hands into the soapy water and thought of the picture they would make to anyone peering in on the domestic scene. "You know, when I renovated my kitchen, I had an argument with Leyla about whether I should put in a dishwasher or not."
"You wanted one?"
He smiled. "Why does everyone assume all men like cleaning shortcuts? No. I didn't want one. Leyla convinced me, said I might one day want to use it." Her actual argument was that he might one day have a wife who would want to use it, but no need to scare Maira away with that little tidbit.
"Do you?"
"Nope. Barely touch the thing."
"Mmm. This house is old too, and I didn't bother to put one in either. I don't cook a lot. If I'm working, I just grab my meals at the hospital. Is that why you don't have one?"
"Partly. But most of it is memories."
"Memories of dishwashing?"
"Sure. My parents used to do the dishes together. Every night, right after dinner. It was their time together."
She gave a wistful sigh. When he looked at her, she smiled. "That sounds lovely."
"Doing dishes sounds lovely?" He hadn't met many women who would agree.
"No. Dishes are a pain in the butt. But it's sweet that they tried to make something boring into something they could share together. I bet neither of them complained, did they?"
He smiled. "Nope. Never. In fact, as we got older, they would give us all sorts of chores, but neither me nor Leyla ever got the dishes."
"It sounds like they had a good relationship."
"Yeah. They did. I mean, it was solid."
"You don't talk about them much."
He reflected for a second. "I guess... It's been so long since they died. I miss them though. They were great parents. Leyla was a good surrogate too."
"I'm sorry. I don't know what that's like. My mother drives me crazy, but I can't imagine how painful it would be to lose her or my dad. Praise God, I've never had to face burying anyone I've loved yet. You're the only one I've... Hmm."
He glanced over to find her cheeks pink, the cloth in her hand drying mindlessly over a plate. He took a guess as to what she was thinking. "You didn't lose me. Didn't even come close."
She shrugged, but didn't look at him. That wasn't it then, the reason behind her embarrassment. What was it? Because she'd lumped him in with other people she cared for? Because she'd let him know the extent of her caring?
Like he didn't already know. Of course, she didn't know that he knew. And he didn't plan on blurting that out. No one liked feeling vulnerable.
"Hey." He waited 'til she looked up and gave her a smile. "You're the only one I could ever picture wanting to do the dishes with every night."
She looked surprised, and then she laughed. "I'm going to take that as a compliment."
"You should." He loved to see her smile. It lit up her whole face. She had little laugh lines around her eyes.
As her chuckles died, she put the dried plate on the rack. All of the dishes were done. He withdrew his hands from the soapy water. Before he could shake them dry or swipe them on his jeans as was his regular protocol, she had enfolded his hands in the fresh towel from the counter. She kept her head bowed as she dried the moisture. He stared at the top of her head, counting the hairs that made up her pretty little widow's peak. "Thanks."
"No problem." Her voice was as rough as his. She glanced up from beneath her lashes, shy and sweet. He couldn't resist, not with her looking at him like that. He leaned down and gently sipped at her lips, taking care not to go too deep too fast.
He felt like a kid on his first date, not wanting to scare her away, yet unable to stop himself from pushing forward. Though he wanted nothing more than to pin her against the door and ravage her mouth, he restrained himself. His hands were suddenly awkward appendages---he didn't know where to put them. Every inch of her curvy body tempted him. He finally settled them on her waist, and even that was torture. The flare of her hips was so damn close.
Her hands twined around his neck. Her fingernails scraped over his skin. He shuddered. It took quite a manful effort, but he called a halt to the shallow kisses before they could transform into something more. Withdrawing only enough to rest his forehead against hers, he took a deep breath. "Stop being pretty."
Her light laugh stroked over him. "I'll try."
He brushed his lips over hers again before reluctantly stepping back. She really was too stunning, standing there with her hair falling out of her ponytail, the top button of her pink shirt magically undone. "I should get going."
She blinked. "Now?"
Noooo, his libido howled. "Yeah. It's late. I should let you get to bed."
He cursed the words as soon as they left his mouth. But really, what wouldn't be a double entendre around Maira right now? He could read sex into anything.
A bolder, more experienced woman might have used the moment to cast him a seductive glance and lead him up the stairs, but he didn't think Maira would. Sure enough, she swallowed and glanced away. "You don't have to."
"I should." He would. Really. Move, feet.
He heard her follow him to the door. He opened it and then turned around to face her. "What are you doing tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow?" She made a face. "Night shift."
"Oh." Damn. "I have physical therapy in the daytime."
"I like to catch a nap anyway," she said, and to his ears it sounded reluctant.
"The day after?" At her nod, he smiled. "Great. I'm booking you."
"Okay. So we're..."
"Going out. It's our second date."
"Okay...I really enjoyed myself tonight."
"Me too. Good night."
"Night."
"Lock your door."
"I always do."
She had the prettiest skin. It was so smooth. Her cheek had felt so soft against his fingers.
"Sasha?"
"Huh?"
She smiled. Her bottom two teeth overlapped. "You really don't have to leave if you don't want to."
He blinked. "Oh. No. You should get some rest. That's fine. Night."
"Night."
He turned to leave, and, because he couldn't resist, stepped back into the house, wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her in for another quick kiss.
He left her standing there, looking bemused, and backed out of the house. "The lock," he reminded her.
"Oh. Yes."
He walked two steps before she closed the door, and then stopped, reluctant to leave just yet. As if she hasn't been living alone for years, he thought, with a wry smile. She's survived this long just fine, presumably locking her doors every night.
Still, he waited to leave until he heard the click of the lock.
Maira stifled a yawn as she sat at her breakfast table and sorted through her mail. Unlike most physicians, Maira kind of liked night calls. She didn't need a lot of sleep anyway, so it didn't really matter if she caught it between patients or in a solid stretch.
Of course, her bed at home was hella more comfy than the on call room at the hospital. Also, since it had been a Sunday night, the E.R. had been busier than normal. Weekends always brought more traffic.
She cocked her head when she found a postcard nestled amidst the bills and more bills. She studied the picture on it, an ocean view that was sold in every Florida gift shop up and down the coast.
She flipped the card over. No postmark or address, simply a bold masculine scrawl in the body. "Had a great time on Saturday. Sasha."
A foolish grin spread over her lips. She had to resist the urge to grip the card close to her chest and twirl around like a giddy thirteen-year-old with her first love letter.
She'd had to make a conscious effort to concentrate on work when all she really wanted to do was rehash the previous night. Their first date had been like something out of a romantic movie. When Sasha got serious, he didn't waste any time. He couldn't have manufactured a more perfect evening.
The only thing she might have improved on? He'd ended that good-night kiss a little too quickly. She wouldn't have minded taking things over to the couch. Or maybe even...the bed.
He's just taking it slow. That was fine with her, really. Really. No, really.
She huffed out a breath. Really.
Because honestly, her headlong attempt to rush the sex had ended in disaster. Far better to take things nice and easy and make sure of everything before they hopped into the sack. That was the mature, responsible, grown-up thing to do.
And Maira was nothing if she wasn't mature and responsible and grown up.
Though no one would know it to look at her two hours later, dozing on her coach with the TV on. She picked up her cell phone when it went off, not alarmed to see the hospital's number. Off-call only meant she wouldn't have to go rushing in. "Hello?"
"Mo?"
Mason. "Hey. What's up?"
"Did Sasha call you?"
She frowned. "No. Why?"
Mason made a frustrated noise. "Reid passed a half hour ago."
Oh God. Her first thought wasn't for the dead man, or his family. "Sasha knows?"
"Yeah. I didn't want him to find out from the press---they're sure to get wind of it quickly. Turns out he'd already found out from his superior. He sounded...odd. I just called back, and he's not answering. I can't leave here."
"I'll go to his house right now." She'd already shoved her feet into her sneakers and grabbed her wallet and keys. "I'll call you later, okay?"
"Great." The relief in his voice was unmistakable. "Thanks. Talk to you soon."
"No problem." She hung up as she got in her car and backed down the driveway.
Sasha didn't really know what to do with himself.
It was a bizarre feeling. He was used to action. Even though he was on leave, he spent his day working on his leg, exercising, researching stuff on the internet, hell, even playing video games. He didn't just sit around.
Except now he was just sitting around.
The knock on the door startled him out of his contemplation of the plain off-white wall in front of him. He considered ignoring it. No doubt it would just be another reporter or perhaps some other curiosity seeker. The campers in front of his house had cleared out last week, but now they'd probably be back, asking him for a meatier statement than whatever the station had released.
The knock came again, louder, and then his cell phone rang next to him on his end table. Maira. He picked it up right away. "Hey."
"I'm at your door," came her breathless reply. "Can you open it?"
"Oh. Yeah, hang on a sec."
His limbs felt stiff, so he had trouble walking to the door. He opened it and surveyed her standing there in faded jeans and a white T-shirt. She looked fresh and scrubbed, though he knew she'd been at the hospital for a twelve-hour shift all night long.
"Hi."
"Hi."
He should be saying something. Something witty and romantic. He racked his brain. What did a guy say in a situation like this? Since he couldn't think of anything, he gave up. "This isn't a good time."
"I know. Put your shoes on."
"What?"
"Come on. I want to take you somewhere."
He hesitated. "I'm really not in the mood..."
"You'll like where we're going."
"I'd rather stay here."
Maira bit her lip. "Sasha, I know about Reid. The press is going to get wind of it pretty soon. You really want to be where everyone knows you live?"
Touché. Since he'd been thinking the same thing, he couldn't very well argue with her. "Where are we going?"
"Just get your shoes, and let me worry about that."
He let her take the driver's seat, literally, and sat silently staring out the window. He didn't have to make conversation. Let her initiate the small talk if she wanted to. He'd warned her, he thought, a small flare of irritation piercing the fog surrounding him. He'd fucking warned her that he wouldn't be good company right now.
He was surprised when she pulled up in front of a giant dome of a building in a neighboring town. He glanced at the dashboard clock. Holy crap, they'd been driving for an hour? To come here? "We drove all this time to go to a science museum?"
"Oh good. You've been here before."
He crossed his arms over his chest. "I appreciate...whatever the sentiment is here. But I'm really not in the mood to learn about dinosaurs and magnets."
"Don't be such a fuddy-duddy." She leaned into the backseat and pulled out a red baseball cap. "Here. Put this on. It's the middle of the day on a school day, so it should be fairly clear in there. We won't have to worry about someone stopping you for an autograph or something."
Ugh. Just the thought made him want to be sick. Some of what he was feeling must have shown in his expression, because her face went soft with sympathy. "I'm sorry. Just put it on and come with me."
She dropped the cap in his lap and got out of the car, shutting the door behind her. He kind of wanted to sit inside the car to protest this ridiculous excursion. Only the fact that it would make him look like an infant had him following her. "Maira..."
"Come on!"
She was already several feet ahead of him. He caught up with her at the ticket agent just as she showed the woman her membership card. He jammed his hands into his pockets and trailed after her. She walked down the hall and to the right.
"Figures you have a membership here," he muttered. "I bet you were a science geek, weren't you?"
"Huge," she agreed cheerfully. "I got gold in the state Science Olympiad two years in a row in high school."
"Wow, the whole span of your high school career," he guessed sarcastically.
"Yup."
Fuck a duck. It was no fun needling her if she wasn't going to respond right. He followed after her through a pair of double doors. And then stopped.
"Planetarium?" he asked dubiously as he looked around the dome-shaped room.
"Yes. Come sit down. The show starts in two minutes." She sat in the middle row. The rest of the place was empty, no doubt because it was indeed a school day.
He remained standing. "Maira..."
She cast him an entreating look. Sonofabitch, she could give Ash lessons. "Please?" She patted the seat next to her.
He capitulated, but not gracefully, lumbering over to sit next to her in the seat she'd indicated. He sat back in the chair and looked up at the blank blue screen of the dome. "Why are we here?"
"When I was in high school, I wasn't just the youngest kid in the Science Club. I was the only girl. At the Olympiad, the other guys tried to get me to take the astronomy category. I loved star gazing but I didn't want it."
Intrigued despite himself, he found himself asking, "Why?"
"Because astronomy at that level is all math and equations." The lights in the theater dimmed to darkness, and the screen came to life with a nighttime sky. Music piped into the room, what he usually thought of as New Age/Enya. She tipped her head back as stars popped out one by one. "That isn't what I liked about the stars. I liked to look at them when I went on nighttime walks with my dad and listen to him tell me stories about each one."
A soft, soothing female voice filled the room as the constellations were highlighted. Sasha found himself relaxing into the reclining chair, tipping his head back to match Maira's pose.
"I was just a teenager when I started med school, you know," she continued in a hushed whisper. "Everyone thought I was so aloof and robotic, but it was mostly because I was nervous. When I lost my first patient, I didn't really have any peers to turn to who would understand. My parents never really knew what to do with me. My big sister was living it up in college."
Sasha frowned. Holy shit. Of course he knew her story, knew how insanely young she had been, but he'd never really thought of the implications of someone that age taking on such a serious, life-or-death profession. His hand slipped into hers.
She squeezed it. "I went to a planetarium like this one and watched the stars. It made me feel better."
He waited, but she didn't offer any more. It took him a few minutes to understand that she didn't need to. It was really simple, he thought. No particular fancy reasoning, no deep explanation. The stars made her happy.
They were making him feel better too, some of the darkness that had fallen over his soul lifting. Maybe it was her, though, and not the stars.
"Reid wasn't my patient," he whispered.
"No. But you've never had to kill anyone, have you?"
He shook his head. "But it was justified."
"Yes."
"Better him than those kids."
"Absolutely. It's hard to be responsible for someone's life like that." She lifted his hand to her lips and brushed a light kiss over it. "He was my patient, you know. Not now, but when he came through the E.R., I stabilized him. Even knowing what he did, I can still mourn the loss of a life. The waste of it."
"When I shot him, I didn't intend to kill him. I wanted him to suffer yes, but I wanted him to suffer through incarceration and trial and sentencing. I wanted him to face his victims. I didn't---I didn't intend to kill him."
"I know."
He turned his head to look at her. "I'm sorry."
"Why?"
"You're tired. The last thing you probably wanted to do was prop me up."
She continued to stare at the ceiling. "You said...you said that we were starting a relationship."
"Yes."
"Part of a relationship is taking the good with the bad," she said simply. "You have to be realistic. No one's life is all romantic dinners and walks on the beach."
"Yeah," he murmured slowly.
"Though to be honest? Don't really see the bad here. I love this place, and I like sharing it with you." She leaned her head against his shoulder.
He rested his head on top of hers. "I start counseling. Tomorrow."
Her voice sounded a little sleepy. "That's a good thing."
"Yeah." He watched the Milky Way swirl. "I want to come here with you again."
"I'd like that."
Yes. He'd like that too.
"I thought we were going to go out tonight?"
Sasha cast her a surprised glance as she followed him into her kitchen. "Did you want to?"
Maira shrugged. In all honesty, she was coming off a rough week at the hospital, so not really. "When you said a movie, I just assumed."
"I picked up a DVD."
"Hmm."
"Hey, if you want to go out to a movie, we can."
"No," she said, feeling foolish. "I'm just a little restless, that's all. Don't mind me." Restless and antsy. What was up with her? She pulled a new bottle of chardonnay from the fridge, thankful that she'd had the foresight to chill it earlier.
"Need a hand?"
"Nope."
She should have wanted to stay in with him. In the two weeks since their trip to the planetarium, thanks to her crazy schedule, they'd only had a handful of dates together. She loved them, they were fun. Magical, even, if she wanted to get Disney Princess about it.
But, but, but...
He never went beyond a kiss at the end of the night.
You should be grateful. Your mother probably got down on her knees when you were a child and prayed her daughters would end up with a man like this.
The problem was, she wasn't her mother. She was young and ripe for the plucking. Pluck me, damn you.
Stop. Better to take things slow and...
Oh shut up, you stupid prissy bitch.
Her conscience silenced on a huff.
It would be easier, she thought, if they were out in public somewhere. Then maybe she wouldn't have to deal with all of this seething sexual tension and romantic gestures with little-to-no buffers. "On second thought, why don't we go out?"
He pulled two wineglasses from her cupboard and placed them on the counter next to her. "But I got the movie."
"We can watch it tomorrow."
He seemed to hesitate again, watching as she poured. "Dessert. I got your favorite dessert from Luigi's."
"Heck, that's an even better reason to go out. You don't need to see my thighs inflate from that."
"I don't know why you think cheesecake wrapped in a fried tortilla would make you gain weight. Besides it's for us to share. That makes the calories fall in the negative."
"I think that's some shoddy science there, Karimi."
"We'll eat it and step on the scale tomorrow, how's that?"
She cocked her head and took a sip of the wine. "Why don't you want to go out?"
A dull flush crept up his cheeks. "It gets a little tiring to be recognized, and I can only wear a hat so much."
"You're still being hassled?" It had been almost a month since the shooting. With Reid's death and the children and teacher's survival, she'd figured most of the media spotlight would fade.
"It's mostly local people now. My ten-minute grocery-store trip last weekend took a solid hour. And I'm still racking up at least a phone call a day from some producer or author or reporter."
"Newsflash," she said dryly. "They're always going to recognize you. This town isn't humongous. You're their hometown hero."
He shrugged, looking uncomfortable as he always did when the subject came up. "Whatever."
Something clicked. "That's why."
"Why what?"
"Why you're so hesitant to go out around town. It embarrasses you."
"Wouldn't it embarrass you too?"
"Well, of course it would. But I'm me. And you're you."
"What does that mean?"
She shrugged. "You should just do an interview and get it over with. Give the people what they want, so to speak. It might actually help."
"That's what Mason said."
"And?"
He shuddered. "I can't think of anything I'd hate more."
"Why?"
"Why? Do I have to have a reason?"
"No. Of course not."
"I mean, I just don't want the attention."
"I always thought you were very at ease with attention."
He stared at her, a bit perturbed. "You think I'm an attention seeker?"
She gave a wry smile. "Of course not. Maybe it's because I've had to deal with someone staring at me since I was five-eleven at thirteen so I'm sensitive to those who are more extroverted."
He was an extrovert. Sometimes. Or at least he pretended to be. "Ah, thanks."
"In any case, you don't have to tell me. It's cool."
"There's nothing to tell."
"Okay."
He watched as she got the plates from the cupboard and withdrew forks from the drawer. She pulled out the Styrofoam box from inside the brown takeout bag.
He folded his arms over his chest. Leaned against the counter. Jiggled his foot.
Damn it. "You're going to laugh at me."
She stopped what she was doing. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her look up at him. "What?"
"It's stupid."
"What is?"
"My issue."
"I won't laugh."
"Hmmm."
"I promise. Unless it's a deep-seated phobia of camera shutters. 'Cause you have to admit, that's kind of funny."
He laughed despite himself. "It's not that."
"You don't think they'll catch your good side."
"I have a good side?"
She snorted and moved in closer. "Don't be vain. All your sides are good. Spill."
He rolled his shoulders, an uncomfortable heat rising in his face. "I don't like big crowds. I'm not good at handling them."
Her hand coasted over his arm. "Really? Neither am I, actually. People in general make me feel shy, but when there's lots of them, I feel like everyone's pressing in on me."
He nodded, relieved. "Yeah. Like that."
"Like I said before, I'm surprised. You seem so at ease around people."
Sasha rubbed his jaw. "I'm okay around small groups."
"Why would you think I would laugh at you?"
"Because of why I hate them." His lips twisted. "When I was a kid, I had a lot of speech problems. Delays in development, stuttering. It took a lot of therapy before I could control it. Avoiding triggers like stressful social situations was the best thing I ever learned to do."
The light dawned in her eyes. "So you're worried that if you do an interview or get around a big group of people, you'll get too nervous..."
"And regress and stutter all over the place." He gave a self-deprecating shrug. "Some hero, huh?"
A long minute passed. He finally looked up to find her steady brown gaze right on him. "A hero isn't defined by how he talks, Sasha, but by the actions he does. You saved a school full of children. You could go on TV with tinfoil on your head, and nobody would think any different of you."
"Real men don't have deficiencies. They certainly don't get tongue-tied to the point of being unable to get a word out without tripping over it. I can't tell you how many times I heard my dad tell me that."
She scoffed. "That's hogwash. The majority of children with speech delays and stutters are males, not females."
"My father was enlightened in a lot of ways. In others, he was about as old school as they came."
"Awww." She hugged him. "Trust me, I know all about old-school parents. You know why you've never met mine, even when they come into town?"
Maira had let some stories of her traditional parents slip over the years, so he'd had an inkling they wouldn't be thrilled to meet some guy hanging around their daughter, but he hadn't wanted to pry. "Why?"
"Because they assume if I'm introducing them to a man, we're shortly going to be engaged."
He grinned. "That old school, huh?"
"You have no idea." She kissed him, right on the corner of his mouth. "You aren't being silly. You're the finest man I've ever met, Sasha. And I know wherever your father is, he would be just bursting with pride over what you did."
He should have known she'd understand. They had been raised in similar cultures, and parent pleasing had been drummed into her as well. "Thanks."
"If the phone calls bother you, you should consider doing an interview, maybe a small one. It would get the others off your back if you made it clear it was an exclusive. If they don't..." She shrugged. "Fuck 'em."
He grinned. Listening to Maira swear was always interesting. "Indeed."
"It's not like they don't have a dearth of your so-called close friends to interview about you. When you were in the hospital, I saw your third-grade teacher talking about how she always knew you were a hero."
He grimaced. "Ms. Rossi? That woman used to make me sit out more recesses than I got to actually play."
Her look was teasing. "And I'm sure you didn't do anything to deserve that."
"Of course not. Mason was the troublemaker. I was just the one who got caught." He eased back, mostly because the scent of her was going straight to his groin. "Sorry. I really don't know how we keep turning our dates into therapy hour. Where do you want to go?"
"My couch."
Pure affection shot through him. "Sure?"
"Yep. What movie did you get?"
"It's in the bag." Dessert and a movie had seemed like a genius plan earlier in the day. Now he wondered if he'd be able to sit next to her on the couch for two hours without ripping her clothes off.
Well, they could do a little bit of necking, go to the next level just a bit. A movie, a few kisses, that was acceptable.
"Oh, this movie. The movie I wanted to see six months ago, when you argued me out of it in favor of the movie you wanted to see."
He grinned at her dry-as-dust tone. "But we can see it now. It just came out on DVD yesterday." When he'd seen the romantic comedy at the video store, he'd been struck by guilt and regret, by the morbid thought that had he not been wearing his vest, he may have died without ever seeing this movie with Maira.
He could care less about love triangles and ensuing hijinks. But Maira would have enjoyed it, and he should have gotten some pleasure out of watching it with her for no other reason than that. Hence, the ultimate sacrifice tonight, otherwise known as a chick flick. He only hoped she appreciated what he was doing.
"No man alive would say something like that."
Maira knew that Sasha had no idea why she so loved to watch chick flicks with him. She didn't particularly care for the actual movie. It was his running commentary of incredulous scoffing and joking throughout.
"Pansy."
Most people probably didn't like talking during their movies, but since she had trouble sitting still for two hours at a time to begin with, it made the whole thing much more interactive and fun.
"Why do women always have to remove their glasses when they get a makeover?"
"I don't know," she said mildly.
"It's stupid." He lifted a bite of the cheesecake dessert to her mouth, adding just the amount of ice cream that she liked. "Glasses aren't an automatic turnoff to men."
"Hmmm." Why had she wanted to go out again? This sitting close together and sharing-the-dessert bit was pure freakin' genius. She accepted the bite he offered and savored the taste. Since the deep-fried cheesecake---God bless America---was enormous, they'd shared it before. But never on the same plate. With the same spoon. She didn't just taste the luscious dessert, she tasted him on the silverware as well, and it was wonderful.
Intimate. Yes, the whole night had been intimate. She cast him a sideways glance as he removed the spoon from her mouth. Maybe tonight...maybe tonight she could take advantage of this intimate setting, show him she was ready for more.
Sasha must have felt her gaze, for he glanced at her and smiled. He dropped the spoon onto the now-empty plate and set it on the table. With a swift click, he paused the movie.
Now. Do something, say something now. She sat frozen though, unable to think of anything sufficiently sexy. His arm came around her in a smooth move and he shifted closer so they were sitting hip to hip. "You have some cream on the corner of your mouth."
She started to raise her hand to wipe it off, but he stayed her. "No, let me."
He leaned in close, and Maira closed her eyes, her heart stuttering. Oooh, he was going to do the little licking-off-the-food thing in prelude to a kiss. She'd always found that wildly erotic and romantic. She waited for the touch of the tip of his tongue.
Instead she got the full flat of it. Right on her cheek, as if he were a puppy bathing her face. She reared back in surprise. "What the...?"
His eyes dancing with mischief, he sat back. "It's off."
She shot him a dirty look and wiped off her cheek. "That's not how you're supposed to do it."
"Do what?"
"The food-on-the-corner-of-the-mouth thing. You're supposed to turn it into a kiss."
He looked both innocent and perplexed. "I know not of what you speak." He leaned forward, dipped his finger into the remaining cream on their plate and swiped it over the corner of his own mouth before sitting back. "Show me."
He was daring her, and little-known fact, but Maira loved dares. Did he think just because she was a virgin, she knew nothing of sex? School had been a snap for her because she was an insane speed reader. Dirty books were her friend, and she was a fast learner.
She'd just pretend. Pretend she wasn't boring, staid Maira. It was doable.
Before she could lose her courage, and before he could lower his hand to wipe it on the napkin in his lap, she caught it and brought it to her mouth.
He inhaled sharply as she licked the cream off, boldly keeping eye contact with him. His eyes only briefly dipped down, and she knew the top button of her shirt had probably come conveniently undone.
Once his finger was suitably clean, she drew it in to her mouth oh so slowly, her tongue darting around and rubbing against the underside of it. His shifted when she sucked it once, then again, strong pulls that brought the tip of his forefinger to the back of her throat.
When she released him, it only took a glance down to see how aroused he was. The hard length of his penis distended the material of his slacks. Her nipples ached, her breathing had accelerated, and between her thighs, her panties rubbed up against the swollen tissues of her labia.
She took a deep breath for courage, and then quickly turned and adjusted herself so she straddled his lap. His eyes widened, his hands coming up instinctually to grasp her hips.
Though he looked surprised, he didn't stop her. His dark eyes merely skated over her, from her disheveled shirt to his hands on her hips. Then he looked back up at her, waiting.
She leaned in and made him jump by nuzzling his neck. She inhaled. Once she'd heard another woman say that she knew she had to marry her husband, because he was the only man who smelled good to her no matter what. Maira had discounted it then. What man smelled wonderful all the time?
But after hanging around with Sasha, she understood what that meant. Even when he was sweaty from working out, she didn't mind it, still found his scent appealing. And right now, with that mixture of cinnamon and bay rum, he smelled good enough to eat.
This close to him, all of her thoughts and plans deserted her and she was reduced to her instincts. Following them, she flicked her tongue out to capture the cream at the corner of his mouth. His head turned and his lips opened as she delicately lapped at them.
Their lips melded together. This...this was different from that first time a few weeks ago. Then, it had been all angry, storming passion. Now his lips were softer, gentler. Instead of pushing her where he wanted her to go, he only took as much as she was willing to give.
Everything. I'll give him everything.
The thought was too overwhelming, so she pushed it away, concentrating on the here and now. Her hands slid up to wrap around his neck, and she deepened the kiss, opening her mouth and shyly touching her tongue to his.
His hands contracted on her hips, and he suddenly pulled her down tight against his engorged penis. She felt the heavy length through his pants and her jeans.
Even though she knew she wouldn't be able to get off without more stimulation, she shifted and ground against his erection, trying to get her aching clit lined up with him. The effort made her more wild---she rubbed her tongue along his, pulling it into her mouth and sucking on it like she'd sucked on his finger.
He tore his mouth free and pulled her lower body slightly up so she was no longer riding him. "Maira..."
"Mmmm." Kisses. More kisses. He couldn't take his cock and his mouth away. She wasn't a kiss connoisseur by any means, but surely no other man's lips tasted this good. She drew him back in, making no effort to be coy this time. Their kiss was long, hot, deep.
She released him only long enough to grab one of his hands and guide it to her breast. Two of the top buttons of her blouse had gotten undone. It was a simple matter to push his hand under the cotton fabric until it covered her breast.
He ended their kiss again, blast the man, pulling back until his head rested against the back of the sofa. "Maira. Let's slow down."
She stared at him, uncomprehending. His eyes were hot with wanting her, his body tense and ready to go. And he wanted to slow down?
To further confuse matters, his hand on her breast wasn't exactly running away. As if he couldn't stop himself, his thumb made one aborted pass over her nipple through her bra. She inhaled, more than ready for more, but he withdrew his hand and quickly buttoned her shirt back up.
Before she could protest, he'd removed her from his lap. She was back in the position she'd been in before, snuggled up against his side. He gave a rough sigh and raked his fingers through his hair before picking up the control and clicking the movie back on.
What was going on? Had she done something wrong? He was still aroused, ready to go. So was she. "Sasha..."
He looked for all the world like he was wildly interested in the movie. Still, he picked up her fingers and gave them a kiss.
"Is there a problem?"
"Hmm? No. Just figured you'd want to watch the movie."
She'd rather make love to him then watch any movie. "We don't have to. Did I do something wrong?"
That made him turn to her. "Of course not."
"Oh. Then don't you want to..." She trailed off, a blush rising.
"Are you kidding me? More than anything." His expression softened. "But, Maira, I don't want to rush you, make you do something you aren't ready for."
She stared at him. He was so pretty. Was he also stone-cold stupid?
How could he think she wasn't ready for it? She'd already thrown herself at him. Twice now, if he counted the kitchen disaster.
"Sasha...I'm ready for more."
A tender look crossed his face. "I know you think you are. But let's face it, honey, this is new territory for you. Look, I just want to make sure we do this right."
Wow. I know you think you are? "That sounds..." she studied his smiling face, smug and confident, "...incredibly patronizing."
"I'm not being patronizing."
"Uh-huh."
"I'm not!"
She crossed her arms over her chest. "You just essentially told me that I don't know my own mind. I have to deal with male superiority all day at work. I don't want to deal with it at home."
He turned on the couch to face her, a fierce scowl stamped on his features. "I'm not a chauvinist."
"Then what gives you the idea that you should be the one to decide what's best for us?"
"Maira, I think I know a little more about this than you do."
"A little more about what?"
Sasha made a gesture between the two of them. "This. Us."
"Oh, I see. You're drawing upon your years of long-term relationship experience. Since I haven't slept with anyone yet, I must not know my own mind, right? Gotcha."
"Don't be like that."
"Like what?" She grabbed the control and clicked the movie off, suddenly irritated with the main characters and their love life.
"Don't use that ice-princess hoity-toity tone."
"I don't know what you're talking about." She did, though. Blowing up and storming out wasn't her style. She just went frigid.
Unfortunately, Sasha knew how to melt her. He slipped his hand under her hair and massaged the back of her neck. "Why don't we take a minute and talk?"
Though his fingers rubbing against her skin were getting to her a little, she continued to sit stiffly. "Fine."
"I told you I don't want this to be about just sex."
Just sex and a relationship including sex were vastly different. She opened her mouth, but he continued to speak. "That's why I thought it made sense to take things slow."
"How slow?" She shook her head. "Are we waiting for marriage or something?"
Instead of panicking, Sasha looked pensive. "Perhaps."
Per...what?
She was too surprised to say anything, and he continued talking. "We have time to figure all that out. I thought you'd be happy. I know how you were raised."
Oh, oh. Blast him, for bringing her family into this.
Because it was true, part of the reason she'd never had sex was due to her conservative upbringing. She knew for a fact that her sister had been a virgin on her wedding night, and she'd had some hazy thought that she would do the same.
Until she'd seen Sasha lying on a hospital bed, that is.
Besides, it hadn't particularly been a conviction she hardcore believed in. Now that he'd invoked it though...doubts assailed her. Deep down, what if that was the kind of woman he wanted?
She considered protesting. Take off your clothes and make wild monkey love to me. What do you mean you want to take things slowly, focus on romance instead of sex? Absolutely not!
Yeah, it sounded more than a little crazy in her head. What woman wouldn't appreciate a man who had their best interest in mind, who didn't mind waiting for sex? What woman wouldn't jump for a man who was ready to put her needs before his own?
She nodded, trying to squelch the confusing mix of disappointment and anger. "I guess...you're probably right."
He looked more than a little relieved. "You'll see. Don't worry, I spent a lot of time thinking about this."
"So..." She hated feeling unsure about anything. "What, exactly, can we do?"
Instant wariness flashed in his eyes. "Do?"
She scooted closer. He withdrew his hand from her neck. "Yes. While we're waiting. What's acceptable, physically?"
"Um...kissing."
"We've been doing that."
He swallowed. "Yeah. It's good, right?"
"Well. Yes. But is that all?"
He seemed to struggle with something, and then come to some sort of decision. "That was all I had planned on."
"Maybe we can do a little more?"
His Adam's apple bobbed. "How much more?"
It wasn't her imagination that he eased back. Oddly, his wariness made her regain some of her confidence. She moved closer, until their thighs were touching. "I liked what we were doing before you stopped."
"I don't know, Maira. We have so much chemistry, I'm worried things'll just fly out of control. I was a few moves away from tossing you on the couch."
I wouldn't have minded. It did her ego good to hear that she hadn't been the only one affected. "Please?"
She could tell the exact instant he capitulated. "We're keeping our clothes on."
Boo. "Okay."
"Okay."
They stared at each other.
The corner of Maira's mouth kicked up. "I guess this isn't something we can---mmph."
She stiffened for a second when Sasha's mouth landed on hers. Their noses bumped, their teeth clinked. She could feel the curve of his lips as he smiled. She laughed and relaxed, allowing him to gently guide her until her back met the sofa.
She stroked her hand over his face as he kissed her, and then sank her fingers into his hair when he left her lips to nip his way down her neck. He nudged the collar of her shirt aside and nuzzled her collarbone.
He did not go any farther south. She shifted beneath him. "Sasha?"
"Hmm?"
"Can you...maybe do what you did earlier?"
He scraped his teeth along the skin of her neck. "What?"
"Touch my...touch my breast."
He didn't move for so long, she began to feel unsure again. "I mean, if you don't want to..."
Before she could finish her sentence, his hand was softly stroking over the side of her right breast. "I'll always want to," he growled.
He went back to kissing her as he petted her breasts, shaping the mounds while avoiding the aching center. The layers of cotton between her skin and his palm drove her mad. Her nipple was dying to be rasped by the rough calluses of his hand. But he kept his touch light, almost comforting instead of sexual.
An itch started in her belly and crept upward, her nipples rubbing against the cotton of her bra. Without thinking, lost in his kisses, she raised her hand and undid the top few buttons of her shirt until it was open to just under her breasts.
He pulled his lips a hairsbreadth away when she guided his hand inside. "Maira..."
Feeling more than a little naughty, she hushed him. "My clothes are still on."
She dropped her hand away, curious to see what he would do next. His hand remained over her bra for a second. Then, he rubbed the flesh in a tight circle. She arched her back, trying to get a deeper touch, wanting to feel his skin on hers.
"Under the bra?"
He cast her a skeptical look, which she interpreted correctly. "Technically, unless you take it off, it's still on."
He laughed. "You rationalize better than a teenage boy." His smile faded. Exhaling deeply, he rested his forehead against hers. They both watched as his long, elegant fingers slid below the thin material of her bra.
Her head fell back against the cushions as his right hand manipulated her nipple perfectly, as if it remembered the last time it had been in his hand almost a month ago.
His touch became more demanding, his fingers more certain, his other hand coming up to cup her other breast. He gave a little growl and licked and kissed his way down her chest, shoving the bra and shirt out of the way until her breasts were mostly bared.
Breaking the rules...no, her shirt was still on, right? And her bra too.
Then she forgot all about rules because his mouth enveloped her nipple and sucked strongly. He seemed to know the exact right amount of suction to make her eyes cross in need. While he laved one nipple, he manipulated the other with his fingers until her hips were bumping up from the couch in a hungry, needy way.
She didn't realize she was whimpering until his lips left her breast and he was whispering in her ear. "Shh...it's okay."
"Sasha, please..." Her hands clutched his shoulders, his taut biceps. "I need---"
"I know." He hesitated.
"We could have oral sex," she said hopefully, her lust completely eroding her shyness.
His crack of laughter broke through the tension in the room. "Oral sex is sex."
"Well, actually..."
He cut off her words with a hard kiss. "I know, I know you can get around that somehow."
"I can rationalize like a teenage boy, remember?"
He chuckled again, and she smiled despite her need. Then she strained closer to him. "Please, Sasha, I hurt." Surely he wouldn't leave her in this state.
His jaw firmed, and then his hand was sliding down her belly to the fly of her jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping to reveal her flowered pink bikinis. She couldn't even feel any embarrassment about the adolescent nature of the underwear. One, she was too excited to care, and two, he wouldn't look down.
Keeping her gaze locked with his, he went solely by touch, as if it was somehow less illicit if he didn't see his hand moving under the cotton. His hand slipped under the elastic, his fingers gliding over her mons until his forefinger rested directly on her clitoris.
She knew the anatomy of a female, had touched herself before, but it felt completely different to have a man's hand, Sasha's hand, there. She closed her eyes to break their intimate connection, but opened them again when the calloused forefinger rubbed against the bundle of nerves.
She'd thought a man fingering her would be intrusive and not very exciting. She'd been wrong.
He thrust one finger lazily in and out of her, and then added a second, twisting and widening them in a little move that made her heart pound.
"You're so damn tight," he growled. As if breaking the silence snapped his control, he glanced down to watch the activity below her waist. She followed his gaze, her thighs tensing at the erotic sight of his hand visible beneath the fabric of her panties, framed by the open fly of her jeans.
She wasn't certain how she came to be lying down, but Sasha was looming over her, and the new position allowed his fingers to go deeper, gave his thumb room to play with her clit. He moved his hand faster, responding to the cues of her body. She grasped his arm, and the feel of his muscles shifting and bunching there set her off. With a loud gasp she came, better than she ever had by herself, but somehow she knew it would be so much better had he been inside her.
He removed his hand from her underwear while she lay there and attempted to catch her breath. What was the proper etiquette after something like this? Did she offer a Kleenex?
He stood in a sudden movement that startled her into rising up on her elbows. Crossing the room, he stopped in front of her bookshelf and thrust his hands into his back pockets. His body language radiated tightly coiled emotion.
"Sash, I could..." Give him a handjob? A blowjob? The crude images the words invoked made her even hotter.
The muscles in his shoulders and back tensed even further. "No. It's fine." He turned and gave her a stiff smile. Of course, her gaze took a quick dip downward at the erection tenting his jeans.
He looked like he was in severe pain. It was stupid that he wouldn't let her ease that. "I really don't mind."
"But I do." His expression and tone was stamped with finality. "We shouldn't have even gone this far."
He was being overly dramatic, and she was starting to get annoyed again. "Sasha, it's fine---"
"I'm not messing this up, Maira."
He didn't shout the words, but he might as well have. She looked at him, surprised. How would sex mess them up? "You won't---"
"I need to go." He strode out the door, leaving her stunned and disheveled on the couch. Hurriedly, she stood and tried to rearrange her clothing. She was just tucking herself back into her bra when he came stomping back in. Grabbing her around the waist, he yanked her closer and kissed her breath away.
He pulled away, looked down and groaned.
She'd only put one breast away. Before she could cover her nakedness, he leaned down and sucked the nipple into his mouth.
"Oh!"
One pull, two, as if he was seeking something he couldn't get, and then he released her. He straightened and tucked the breast back into her bra. Slashes of red color ran high on his cheekbones, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. "I'll call you tomorrow."
Perhaps she said something, or maybe not. All she knew was ten minutes later she was leaning back against her front door staring at the mirror in her hallway and her disheveled appearance.
That was nice.
Just think how nice it'll feel when you actually take your clothes off.
By the time the next weekend rolled around, Maira discovered that unrequited lust did not make her personality shine.
In fact, a kind person would even say it turned her into a real bitch.
Though in this case, Maira felt she could be forgiven a little bitchiness.
"You owe Mason for what?"
Blithely unaware of her rising anger, Sasha continued searching for a parking spot in the crowded parking lot. "For making me see what a jackass I was to you after the shooting."
"He knew about our fight?"
"Sure."
"Did he know what our fight was about?" Namely, her throwing herself at Sasha.
"I wonder if I could fit into that parking spot."
"Sasha!"
"What?"
She counted to ten. And then counted backwards. "Did you tell him what happened? What I did?"
Sasha's expression shifted. He looked like a man who had suddenly found himself walking in a minefield. "Um. No?"
"Are you asking me or telling me?"
"I hate when people ask that," he muttered.
"Oh, God, you did, didn't you?"
Sasha turned neatly into an open parking space and killed the engine. "It's no big deal."
"How can you say that?" She folded her arms over her chest. "I can't ever face them."
"Them?"
"If you told Mason, it probably took him about five minutes to tell Leyla." Leyla was almost Sasha's mother. She did not want her boyfriend's mother figure to know that she had practically sexually assaulted the man.
"Well, I don't know about that..."
"It doesn't matter. It's bad enough that he knows."
"Maira, it's not a big deal. Yeah, they know we had a fight, and yeah, Mason knows that I thought some boneheaded stuff about you, but trust me when I say they were both firmly on your side. They like you. Hell, Leyla was ready to kill me for screwing things up with you."
She nibbled on her bottom lip, barely paying attention to him. "I'm so embarrassed."
"Don't be."
"I can't help it." She pressed her hands to her cheeks. "I can't possibly see them right now."
"They're expecting us, Maira."
"Why don't you just go?"
Apparently, nobody could do puppy-dog eyes like Sasha Karimi. "You'd make me go all by myself?"
She glanced out the window at the park where they were meeting Mason, Leyla, and a couple of Sasha's friends for a barbecue. "Yes. It's going to be a small group, right? You'll be fine. Put on your hat."
He exhaled and sat back in his seat. He was silent for a minute. "You know Mason and Leyla kept their relationship a secret from me?"
"What?"
"Yup. They didn't tell me anything about it. I walked in on them fooling around."
She thought of tidy Leyla and her devoted, respectable husband. "Huh."
A smile tugged at Sasha's lips. "I like to forget it ever occurred, so you should feel really special I dragged that memory out of my brain to make you feel better. Those two have gotten up to their share of shenanigans. They certainly won't be passing judgment on us."
Oddly enough, it did make her feel better. "You didn't go into too much detail, did you?"
"Like, your panty color? No, Maira. Like I said, most of Mason's focus was on the stupid stuff I said. You've seen him since then. Has he treated you any differently at work?"
A deep breath helped clear some of the tension from her shoulders. "No."
"See?" He opened his door. "Come on, you were the one who told me a barbecue would be fun. You can't make me go through it alone."
She gave him a smile, though nerves still wound her stomach up tight. She exited the car and slammed the door shut. He paused for a moment before tossing something in the driver's seat and closing his own door. It had been his baseball cap, she realized, when he rounded the hood of his car and joined her. He took off his sunglasses and hooked them into his shirt pocket before placing his hand at the small of her back. "Shall we go?"
"No disguise?"
He shrugged. "If you're feeling vulnerable, it won't kill me to do the same."
Awwww. He was so unexpectedly sensitive sometimes. "You don't have---"
He cut her off with a swift kiss on her cheek. "Hush. We're already late."
Sasha had told her that his friends had insisted they not bring anything, but she wished she had a wrapped pan or something in her hands to fiddle with as they walked to the gazebo where they had been told to meet the rest of their party.
She frowned as they approached. "Are we in the right place? There sure are a lot of people."
"Huh. This is where the guys told me to meet them. That looks like a huge birthday party or something." Brightly colored balloons hung from the corners of the structure. And the people. There were people filling the park to capacity, while children ran this way and that and the smell of hot dogs and hamburgers drifted through the air.
She searched through the crowd for Leyla and Mason, since she had no idea what Sasha's friends looked like. Perhaps the group had gotten here earlier and retreated to another area in the park.
No. There was Leyla, standing next to a picnic bench with her baby in her arms and a bulging diaper bag slung over her shoulder. She appeared to be arguing vigorously with some man.
"Ow." She bumped into Sasha's back as he stopped dead. "I think I see Leyla."
When he didn't respond, she followed his gaze and caught sight of a sign hanging from the trees. A huge sign with hundreds of signatures, most of them appearing to be from children: Thank you, Lt. Karimi, for your brave service.
Lord. It's the whole frickin' school. The thought struck her just as the swarm of people caught sight of them. A ripple went through the crowd and shouts of "Surprise!" rang out.
There were so many people, she was overwhelmed. When she looked at Sasha, however, she snapped out of it.
Though his face was expressionless, pure panic glinted in his eyes. He opened his mouth to address the huge, now silent and expectant crowd. "I---" He broke off and looked down at her, adorably needy.
Crud, but she must love the man. She must love him more than she hated being the center of attention. Maira stepped up next to him and placed a light hand on his back. She pitched her voice loud enough to carry over the crowd. "Congratulations, folks. You've made Sasha speechless. Is that a first?" A light ripple of laughter flowed over the crowd. "Let's give him a moment to process how very grateful and overwhelmed he is by this gesture."
"Good idea," she heard someone holler. "In the meantime, the guest of honor's here, so let's start the food."
A cheer rose up, particularly from the children, and the swarm of people relaxed into small clumps.
"Let's go."
Maira started at his urgent whisper. "What?"
"Come on." He inched backward, studying the party as if everyone was carrying packs of C4 strapped on their backs.
"Sasha, we can't just leave."
"Sure we can. We'll leave, I'll find out who amongst my so-called friends or family put this together, and I'll murder them. Good times. Come on."
Oh Lord. The man was equally mortified and furious. She knew from experience that combination boded ill for him and anyone who caused it.
"Sasha!"
Leyla's breathless voice made Sasha's face turn to stone as she jogged up to them. "Lee, I'm never going to forgive you."
A lesser woman might have quailed beneath Sasha's ruthless threat, but not Leyla. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Boy, how could you possibly think I would do something like this?"
"Because you're a natural-born meddler."
"I might meddle, but I wouldn't hurt. I know very well how uncomfortable you get---" She broke off. "In any case, no, I would never ambush you like this. I only got here a minute before you did, and I was about to call and warn you when you showed up." Leyla leaned around Sasha. "Hi, Maira."
"Hi." And she'd figured she'd be too embarrassed to face Leyla, Maira thought wryly. There was so much more going on now, she could barely remember the fight in the car.
"Who put this together then?" Sasha asked grimly.
"From what I understand, your captain, with your buddy Kieran helping," Leyla answered.
"Why?"
"You'll have to ask them. They're right over---" She cut herself off as she raised her hand to point to a gazebo across the grass where Mason sat alone with Ash. He raised his arm in a slight wave. "Damn it, they ran away."
Sasha's lips firmed. "That's fine. I know where they live. I'll see you later." He took a step backward.
"I'll say you came down with the flu," Leyla agreed promptly.
These siblings were pretty darn cute together. But this just wouldn't fly. "No."
They both looked at her. "What?" Leyla asked.
"I said no. Sasha, you have every right to be angry with your friends for springing this on you. But the rest of this group is filled with good, decent people who just want to thank you. They don't know, and they don't deserve to be snubbed."
"But---"
Big guns time. "You'll garner more attention if you stalk off right now. People are already looking at us."
"She may be right, sweetie," Leyla said quietly.
He opened his mouth and then closed it again. Maira took pity on him and took his arm. "I'll help you. Don't worry, it'll be just fine. Just smile and nod."
"You can't leave me."
Maira paused, caught by his intense gaze. Distantly she heard Leyla utter a slight cough and back away. "Of course not." Never. "Come on, let's go get some food." It would give them something to do.
Judging by the frozen expression on his face, the grassy field that separated them from the food stations must have looked like a gauntlet to Sasha, and Maira wasn't all that thrilled at crossing it either. Taking a deep breath and pasting on a smile, she took a firm grip on his arm and towed Sasha along as they began to make their way.
They couldn't go more than a foot at a time without being stopped by someone. It wasn't so bad at first, a few of Sasha's friends, some of whom she'd already met at one time or another, but slowly, the strangers became braver and began to approach them.
Her natural inclination would always be toward shyness in social settings, but she couldn't indulge that right now. Not if she wanted to be any help to Sasha. Every time she felt the urge to retreat to a quiet space somewhere, she pushed herself to be funnier, more engaging, carrying the brunt of the conversation so her guy could relax.
Who's the wallflower now? Look at her go. She was both amazed and thrilled at her newly discovered outgoing self. This wasn't so hard, she thought, as the group of teachers and administrators laughed at something she said. One of the women turned to Sasha and beamed at him. "Your girlfriend is lovely."
His hand tightened around hers and he surprised her by pulling her close and dropping a kiss on her head. "She is. I-I-" His jaw clenched.
Uh-oh. She was about to jump in when he continued. "I'm very blessed to have her in my life."
Tears stung her eyes and she blinked rapidly. His voice was rough. No wonder, since it was the first time he'd spoken more than a greeting since they'd started to mingle. "I'm the blessed one." She looked away from him, fearing that if she didn't, she'd get lost in his eyes. No need to air all their sappiness. Forcing a reluctant smile, she placed a hand on her stomach. "It's so nice to speak with you, but I'm just starving." Automatically the crowd parted.
Sure enough, though, a minute later they were approached again, this time by a tired-looking woman holding a frail boy by the hand. Maira cocked her head, studying the boy.
Big brown eyes filled with fear, made more prominent by the breathing mask over his face...
She sucked in a quick breath and leaned to whisper in Sasha's ear. "I want you to forget everyone around us. That child is what matters. Pretend he's the only one here and try to talk to him."
Sasha gave her a confused look, but the pair were upon them before he could respond. "Hello," she said gently to the little boy.
He swiped the back of his hand over his nose. "Hi. My name is Chris."
She smiled. "Chris, my name is Maira. You don't remember, but I believe I treated you when you first came into the hospital here in town."
The fierce hug from Chris's mother startled her. Maira returned the embrace, awkwardly patting her back. The woman stepped back and brushed at her tears. "Look at this, Chris, two of your heroes at the same time."
Awww, man. Talk about flustering her. She glanced at Sasha, not at all surprised to see the matching blush in his cheeks. Her lips quirked. Weren't they a fine pair? "Oh. I don't know what to say," Maira admitted.
"You don't have to say anything. Your actions were enough." The mother looked at Sasha. "More than enough."
Despite his embarrassment, Sasha kept his gaze on Chris and dropped to his knees to get at the child's eye level. He nodded to the soft football cradled in his arms. "Do you play?"
Yearning lit up the soft brown eyes. "Yes."
"Maybe we can toss the ball around a little? I'm out of practice."
Chris brightened for a second, but it didn't last. "I can't run or throw yet. My doctor said."
Sasha coughed, and Maira's heart melted. Big softie. "There's a duck pond right over there. Perhaps you can take a walk with Chris," she suggested, and looked to the child's mother for permission. The other woman nodded, still crying.
Sasha straightened and took the child's hand. He looked at Maira. "I'll---"
"I'm just going to be getting some food. Find me when you need me."
The touch of his hand on her cheek was featherlight, his smile almost blinding. "I will."
"You Sash's girl? The one we have to keep hearing about?"
Maira stared at the large scowling man towering above the picnic blanket where she sat. She chewed the last bite of hot dog in her mouth and swallowed. "Um."
"Kieran Harrison, you are the most infuriating man." Leyla paused from feeding a bite to her daughter to admonish the stranger.
Leyla was brave. Maira probably wouldn't have said boo to the scary-looking guy. Even if she were standing, he would loom over her, with his height and thickly muscled frame. His bald head glinted in the sunlight. Tattoos decorated his arms left bare by his T-shirt. She could even see ink on the side of his neck.
"What did I say?" the man protested.
Leyla wiped the corner of Ash's mouth. "Never mind that. You have been deliberately avoiding my brother."
Ahhh. So this was the ringleader of the great picnic escapade. Yeah, he'd do well to avoid Sasha.
He rubbed the back of his neck. "Christ, Leyla. Can you blame me?"
"Not at all," Maira said, before she could think.
Kieran threw back his head and laughed. "You must be his lady."
She straightened up. This was Sasha's friend---at least until Sasha murdered him---and she didn't want him to think she was some awkward, shy thing. She was more than that. "I am his...lady." Wow. Did that sound as silly as it felt to say?
Silly or not, it brought an odd sort of satisfaction. Why yes, she was Sasha Karimi's lady. What of it?
Still grinning, he dropped down to the blanket and stuck out his hand. "I'm Kieran. I work with Sash."
"Maira." She took his hand gingerly, bemused when his big paw swallowed hers. Surreptitiously she flexed her fingers after he released her. Look at that, they were still intact.
Something tickled her memory. She rarely forgot anything, particularly names. Where did...? Oh. "Ah, yes." Uncaring now of his awesome physical presence, she narrowed her eyes at the man. "You're also the one who helped Sasha leave the hospital."
A grin spread across Kieran's face, revealing even white teeth, warming his bright green eyes. It surprised Maira, because the pure sweetness of the smile contrasted sharply with the tough, bunny-murderer vibe he had going on. "Yes, ma'am."
"I hope you don't make a habit of helping people disregard medical advice, Mr. Harrison."
He ducked his head. "No, ma'am."
Maira frowned. "Physicians generally have a good reason for insisting a patient remain in the hospital---"
Sasha cut her off as he sat down next to her. "Stop scaring the man, Maira."
"I am not scaring him."
"I'm actually a little terrified," Kieran said seriously.
She glanced at the other man sharply. His face was sober, but the dancing mischief in his eyes prompted a reluctant smile to tug at her lips.
"You're terrified of the wrong person," Sasha said, his tone deceptively mild.
Uh-oh. Maira's amusement vanished. "Sasha, let's keep calm here..."
"What the hell were you thinking?"
Kieran held up his hands in supplication. "Okay, I admit it, I'm guilty. I swear, I had a really good reason to help plan all of this."
Leyla narrowed her eyes at the other man while Sasha scowled. Even baby Ash folded her tiny arms over her chest and pouted. Mentally, Maira rolled her eyes. It was clear that deep emotions ran through the Karimi family.
You might spend a lot of time being the reasonable one. The thought wasn't abhorrent...she actually kind of liked the idea of a regular role in this family. "I'd like to hear the reason."
Kieran gave her a relieved smile, and she tried to broadcast her encouragement. She hoped the extenuating circumstances really were valid, or Kieran was going to have to deal with a lot of grudge-holding from his friend. Surprisingly, she kind of liked the big guy.
"The school was planning an assembly. Full press coverage and everything. The captain was going to pretty much order Sasha to show up. Since Sasha has too much respect for the man to ignore a direct order, he would have had to go and then get up and make a speech of acceptance at a podium. Here, there's no press, no microphone, and he's got friendly faces. I thought this was better."
Baby Ash chortled in her mother's arms and stretched toward her uncle. Sasha absentmindedly took her, smoothing her pink-striped sundress as he studied his friend. His anger was gone, replaced by pensiveness. "How did you know...?"
"Man, I'm not stupid. We've been working together for years, and I saw you freeze up when I drove you home and those reporters started freaking out in your driveway." Kieran hesitated. "It's no big deal. Hell, I like my privacy too."
Maira made up her mind quickly. The other man may not know exactly what Sasha's issue was, but the important thing was that he'd been sensitive enough to know there was a problem, and he'd done his best to mitigate the negative. That was the mark of a real friend. "I think this was a very nice thing for Kieran to do."
Sasha cocked his brow at her. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." She flushed when Sasha wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her neck. His sister was right there, for crying out loud.
Leyla didn't look at all upset about the PDA, though. If anything, her expression was stamped with satisfaction. "I think Maira's right. This is far better than a news conference, isn't it?"
"Immeasurably. Though it would have been nice, Kieran, to get at least some warning about it."
"You wouldn't have come," he said simply.
Sasha considered that. "Probably not."
"Not," his niece agreed solemnly.
Leyla's face lit up as she retrieved the toddler from her uncle. "She's never said that word before!"
"My genius is rubbing off on her," Sasha said, very solemnly.
"So am I forgiven?" Kieran gave his friend an entreating look that somehow did not manage to look ridiculous on his tough face.
Sasha pretended to consider the matter until Maira elbowed him sharply in the side. "Oof. Yeah, yeah. You're forgiven. But if you pull another stunt like this, I'll..."
"Sure, sure, you'll kill me. Now come on, the guys want to play some soccer. You in?"
Sasha glanced at Maira. "You okay here?"
"Absolutely. Go."
"I'll keep her company," Leyla said.
They watched as the men jogged away toward the field. Maira smiled as Sasha fully loosened up in the midst of his usual group of friends.
"It's been a fun day, hasn't it?" Leyla asked. "Even though it seems to have tuckered Ash out."
Maira smiled at the baby, who had left her mother's lap to curl up in the shade on the blanket. As she watched, the little girl's droopy eyelids shut. "Very fun." Surprisingly so. The day could officially be called a success. Sure, it had taken a couple hundred folks, but it appeared as though Sasha finally believed people couldn't care less what he said or how he said it. As the crowd had thinned, he'd even relaxed enough to mingle a little without her. As for herself, she'd actually had fun being forced out of her comfort zone.
"Maira...shoot, there's no way to say this without sounding sappy, but after watching you with Sasha, I just have to tell you how happy I am to see you and my brother together. The two of you are perfect."
The warmth in the other woman's eyes couldn't be feigned. Maira smiled. "Thank you. The sappiness is entirely appreciated."
They were silent for a moment, watching the shenanigans on the field. Leyla's voice was very quiet as she continued. "I worried, you know, that Sasha would never find someone. When the shooting happened..." Leyla shuddered, and Maira felt goose bumps launch on her own skin. Even after more than a month, it was still difficult to think of the danger he had been in. "I couldn't stop thinking that he couldn't die without knowing the kind of love and happiness I've found with Mason."
Sincerity and pain rang in Leyla's words. Maybe it was too much, too soon, but Maira wanted to ease the shadows she saw in Leyla. "I love him," she said.
The other woman closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were shiny. "I know. You don't know how happy that makes me."
They shared a look of feminine camaraderie before Leyla leaned back on her hands. "He's treating you right then? I know all the secrets to whip that boy into shape."
The question was light, so Maira answered it similarly. "Of course. Everything's going great." Except for the fact that your brother thinks that we shouldn't go past first base. That isn't so great.
Yeah, she wouldn't be telling Leyla about that little problem. Not only would it be awkward, it sounded stupid. By all appearances, yes, Sasha was treating her wonderfully. It was a proper courtship. Their conversations were intimate. He brought her flowers, they'd gone out to dinner, lunch. Last night, when she'd been tired, they'd curled up in front of his TV, with her head on his lap. She'd fallen asleep there, waking up in the early hours to find him asleep as well, his head resting against the couch.
"You don't sound sure," Leyla murmured.
She plucked at a strand of grass. "I feel ungrateful," she blurted out.
"Why?"
Oh, Christ, she shouldn't have said anything. How could she tell Sasha's sister that she felt like an idiot for being irritated that the man wasn't trying to get her into bed? "Never mind."
"Honey, tell me. Maybe I can help."
"No, no...it's nothing." She shifted, about to stand up and run away.
"Did Sasha tell you how poorly he behaved when he found out me and Mason were having sex?"
The words and topic were so unexpected, Maira's butt stayed planted on the ground. "What?"
Leyla smiled. "He punched Mason in the face."
"Oh...wow."
"Do you know why he did it?" Leyla didn't wait for her to answer, but waved a hand. "Oh, I can imagine that most brothers don't want their friends sleeping with their sisters, on principle alone. But, see, in Sasha's mind, I was standing on a pedestal, and angels don't sully themselves with a crazy torrid affair. It didn't matter that I was with a man he would die for. My brother has a history of being a blind, stubborn, loveable idiot. Once that boy gets an idea in his head, it is completely impossible to knock it loose, unless you dynamite it out of there."
Maira stared at Leyla. Light bulb.
She didn't know how Leyla had figured out that something was up, but she wasn't going to question it. Her insight into Sasha's personality made everything click together.
I'm not messing this up, Maira.
She'd known from the minute she'd admitted her inexperience that Sasha had interpreted it to mean she was some sweet, innocent thing. He'd written off her aggressiveness as being spurred by her distraught state of mind over the shooting. Emotional and psychological trauma. Her. Ass.
Yes, she was young and inexperienced, but by God, she was a woman who knew what she wanted. Today had proved that she could be bold and in charge. She'd waited long enough, hadn't she? For a man in general and for Sasha in particular. Why the hell had she laid down and meekly followed his lead?
What if he's not ready for sex?
Well then, the man should just say so instead of couching it in terms that made it all about her. The anger that she'd tamped down for the past week as she told herself again and again how sweet and kind Sasha was being broke free. She welcomed it, allowed it to warm herself. If he thought she would just sit by and wait for him to decide the milestones in their relationship, he had another think coming.
"Do you think anyone would mind if Sasha and I cut out a little early?"
For a second, she thought she saw pure satisfaction on Leyla's face, but then it was gone, leaving innocence in its place. "That would be fine. It's clearing out anyway."
Maira's brain was racing almost as much as her heart as she stood, her eyes on Sasha where he now stood talking to some women. "Great. See you later. Thanks so much." Leyla couldn't know how much Maira appreciated this talk.
"You're too obvious of a meddler, sweetheart. I need to teach you a thing or two about subtlety."
Leyla gave him a smile as Mason dropped down next to her. "You heard?"
"Enough." He nodded toward Sasha and Maira as they walked to the parking lot. "They make a nice couple. What did I tell you?"
"You called it, all right."
"So what was up with the big talk? It sounded like girl code to me."
"Mmm. When I talked to Sasha a couple of days ago, I asked him how things were going with him and Maira."
"You're so nosy."
"Please. Anyway, he let it slip that things were going according to his plan. Of course that set off my warning bells."
He played with a piece of grass and stared at his wife's sweet, expectant face. Even after knowing her for a lifetime and being married to her for a few years, he still had trouble figuring out how her brain worked. "Because...why?"
She let out a rough sigh, as if he were a simpleton incapable of capturing the simplest of concepts. "Ma-son. He said things were going exactly according to his plan. You know how ridiculous my brother is. When you told me what really happened between Maira and Sasha when they had their fight---"
Mason winced at that. Sasha would kill him if he found that out. How his best friend hadn't yet discovered how difficult it was for him to keep secrets from his wife, he didn't know. Nobody should tell him anything if they didn't want Leyla to hear about it shortly.
"---I realized how absolutely crazy for him Maira was. When I asked him what his plan entailed, all he would say was that it was none of my business but I'd approve because he was being very cautious and considerate of Maira. If he conducts this relationship with the idea that she's some precious little girl who can't be touched, he's going to lose her."
As she caught her breath, Mason continued to stare at her. He chewed on his blade of grass and stared some more. Then he shrugged. "'Kay."
She smiled smugly. "You think I'm crazy. Maira confirmed everything. Trust me, I fixed things."
"If you say so. Hey, want to see if Junie can watch Ash for a little bit while she sleeps? We can go make out somewhere."
"Mason!"
"You're no fun since we got caught last week," he grumbled. "And that janitor's closet was totally your idea to start with."
Maira was ready to seduce her man.
And this time, she meant it.
There was no time for hours of getting ready. After the day outside in the hot sun, her plain cotton shirt stuck to her skin. The underwear she had on underneath was serviceable at best. The makeup she'd put on hours ago had faded.
She sat quietly while they drove to her house, responding to his small talk with an occasional murmur. She didn't bother to let doubt enter her mind or rehearse what she would say to him.
Actions spoke louder than words. Hadn't she learned that?
He parked directly behind her car and turned to her. She cut him off before he could say anything, or worse, kiss her good night. "Come inside." She didn't phrase it as a request, and she didn't wait for his agreement. She simply got out of the car and started walking to the door.
He spoke from behind her as she fit the key into the lock and turned it. "Did you want to watch some TV for a while?"
"No."
"No?"
"I don't feel like it."
Even though he stood behind her, she could sense his slight surprise at her flat statement as she opened the door and stepped inside the cool foyer. He followed her in. She shut the door and locked it, the click ominously loud.
"What do you want to do?"
She looked up at him slowly, not shying away from meeting his gaze. "Take off your clothes."
He blinked and gave a short laugh. It took him a moment to realize she wasn't joining in on the joke. "You--- What?"
"Take. Off. Your. Clothes." She enunciated each word.
"Um...are you feeling okay, Maira?"
She walked forward, slightly amused he took a step backward every time. "I'm feeling great. Wonderful." She kicked off her shoes, uncaring of where they went sailing.
"What are you doing?"
"If I need to tell you..." she undid the button on the waistband of her jeans and then the zipper, "...I don't think I'm doing it right."
"Sweetheart, did something bad happen today? Is that why you're acting like this?" Sasha butted up against the back of her chintz floral sofa. He appeared, she noted, more than a little trapped and desperate. It looked good on him.
"Nope. I'm setting some dynamite."
"I don't get it."
"I know. Why aren't you taking off your clothes again?" She allowed the waistband of her jeans to gape open.
His gaze slid over her, and when he looked back up, she was thrilled to see all of the passion and excitement she'd been the object of back in his kitchen when she'd attacked him. He banked it quickly, but by God it was there. It was hers. She thought she heard him mumble something about a number three.
"Tell me something, Sasha," she said conversationally as she did a quick hip bump to skim the pants down her legs and then kicked the clothing aside. His hands clenched the sofa behind him, his eyes burning a path of fire down her bare legs. Her shirt covered her top half, the panties hid the important bits, but even this much nudity was more than she'd ever done with any guy.
No reservations this time. No hiding.
"Tell me, why is it that you won't sleep with me? Is it me? Do I not appeal to you?"
The answer was in his eyes, and she took heart from that, as well as the swift shake of his head.
"Is it that you're not ready to have sex with me?"
His half-snort of laughter was both pained and embarrassed. "Are you kidding me?"
"Then it's me you think isn't ready?"
He gave a brief sigh. "I told you I'd give you time. I don't want to..."
"Mess this up," she finished. "You won't."
"I'm not good at relationships, Maira. That's why I almost lost you before. That's why I came up with this plan. That's why I'm going to control myself and stick to it."
"Even if I don't want your control?" she yelled, startling them both. She took a deep breath and grabbed for some calm. "Sasha. It's sweet, really. And any other time I'd be so thrilled, so flattered. But...not now. I've had time. I've known for two years that I love you, that I---"
"What?" He blinked. "What did you say?"
"I love you, you big blind idiot. I've waited for you long enough, and---mmph."
She didn't even see him move, but before she could blink, he was crushing her body against his. His mouth came down over hers with such force her teeth rattled. Oh, yes. This was what she wanted, what she needed. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth to him, to his demanding lips and tongue and teeth.
It was a shock when he pulled away to rest his forehead against hers, his heavy breaths gusting over her lips. "You are...so important to me. I didn't realize how much until I thought I didn't have you anymore. I don't want to screw this up."
Her heart caught. "You won't. Honestly, if the events of the last few weeks hadn't happened, I'd say let's take it slow. But when you got shot..." She held up her hand to forestall him. "Don't tell me that I shouldn't let my emotional response color our relationship. It happened. It's the way I feel. I---I don't want to waste any more time, Sasha."
Worry darkened his eyes. "But it's barely been a month."
She gave a half-laugh. "We've been going to movies and dinner and bowling for two years, Sash. How much more time do you need to get to know me?"
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely. And one more thing..."
"What?"
"Don't treat me like some breakable little doll. I want you really badly. I want you to show me how badly you want me." She licked her lips. "You can use dirty words."
He grinned, slow and confident. He suddenly looked younger than he had in the entire past month, the same carefree Sasha she had fallen in love with. "Can I?"
"Yes."
"And can I..." he put his lips next to her ear, "...do dirty things to you?"
Graphic images ran through her brain. "Oh my, yes."
"Good." His hands went to the buttons of her shirt. "I love all your buttons. Whenever I see them, I just think about ripping them off."
"Okay."
He laughed at her eagerness and spread her shirt open. "Next time." With a reverent touch, he traced over the wide scalloped strap of the bra. The undergarment felt almost too tight against her flesh. Particularly when he idly tugged at the material so her nipples popped free and then arranged it so her breasts were propped up. Already hard, they rested over the confining fabric as if they were being offered to him.
He dropped his hand and began unbuttoning his shirt. She swallowed. "Do you want to go to the bedroom?"
He glanced up, his eyes hot. "I thought you wanted to get dirty?"
She licked her lips. "Here will do." For dirty, she'd gladly sacrifice a bed.
She was like a goddess come to life. A really hot goddess.
The shirt hung open on either side of her. Her perfect breasts were framed by simple, serviceable white cotton. He'd always thought of himself as a black satin kind of man, but Maira wore mundane really well. Especially when her little brown nipples rested on the shelf of her bra, as if they were in the middle of a particularly tasty confection.
Dirty. He could do dirty. He could also do crazy with lust over her.
How could he have misread his woman so badly?
Sasha pushed those thoughts to the side. Later would be soon enough to castigate himself. Right now, he just wanted to make Maira's first time as dirty and raunchy and...well, loving, as she deserved.
The panties she wore were as plain and simple as the bra, a white bikini. His gaze kept ping-ponging between the three triangles that kept her from his touch. He couldn't decide which he liked more, the intriguing delta between her thighs or the nipples that were so lewdly popped out of her bra, waiting for his mouth.
"You're not touching me."
Somehow he managed to glance up at her purring voice. Hell, who knew Maira could even sound like that. He left his shirt hanging open. If he undressed, he wouldn't be able to keep from bending her over the couch and fucking her right here. "I'm trying to figure out what I want to touch first."
"Start somewhere." Her tone was impatient. She traced a finger along the strap of her bra.
Utilitarian cotton and seductive gestures. His lady was a study in contrasts. "Being dirty doesn't mean we have to rush."
She frowned, clearly more than ready to dive into bed. He was equally aroused and flattered. "C'mere." He caught her hand and turned her so she was backed up against the couch. He had no plan in mind anymore. He simply wanted her as ready for him as he could make her.
While he did that, he could have a little bit of fun.
He caught the sides of her shirt between his thumb and forefinger. "I haven't been with a woman for a while." Gently, as if he were unveiling something precious, he pushed the shirt off her shoulders. "About three years."
Her body went still.
He continued on, as if he didn't notice, tossing her shirt to the side. "I know that's not a very macho thing to admit. But it seemed like everyone around me was finding their soul mates and I kind of lost my desire for sleeping with anyone." He ran his thumb along the edge of the bra, stopping just a hairsbreadth away from her nipple. He looked into her dark eyes. "And then I met you. I don't think I realized it, but I think, all this time, I was waiting for you."
A shimmer rose in her eyes. "I think we've both been waiting long enough, don't you?"
Hell yes. Something broke inside of him. His voice didn't sound very much like him at all. "I'd planned on being gentle."
"I just want you. However I can get you."
The beast within him howled in happiness. The time for talk was done.
She gasped into his mouth when he captured her lips. He sent his tongue deep inside her, not bothering to temper his passion. He only separated their lips when he felt the tight points of her breasts poking him in the chest.
Supporting her back with his arm, he arched her so her nipples taunted him. The brown morsels were mouthwateringly gorgeous, and he wasted no time in enveloping the right one in his mouth. Dimly, he heard her utter a ragged cry when he flexed his cheeks, sucking on her as if he could consume her if he tried hard enough.
He switched breasts, stimulating the wet nipple he'd abandoned. He couldn't think in coherent sentences anymore. With the blood pounding in his cock where it was imprisoned in his jeans, all he could do was respond to the cues given to him by her hands in his hair and the writhing of her body.
Tug. He pinched her left nipple harder.
Moan. He scraped his teeth against her right again.
When her motions against him became more impatient, he let the nipple he was sucking pop out of his mouth, and slid down her body. She stilled, looking down at where he knelt at her feet.
Closing his eyes, he inhaled her scent. God, she smelled so good, exactly like a woman should.
With his teeth, he caught the waistband of her panties. He tugged them down until they cleared her pussy, and looked.
She was...gorgeous. Surprisingly enough, her pussy was free of all but a small tuft of hair. He looked up at her, trying to put words together. The pink folds of her labia were thick and fleshy. He had absolute and complete access to her, and it was a heady thought. "You wax?"
Her face and chest were red. She nodded.
Sasha turned his attention back to the treasure between her legs. He leaned in closer to investigate, pinching the slippery folds apart so her pretty clit poked out for him, as if it were just asking to be sucked. Her inner thighs were slick and soft. His fingers were already covered with her need. God, he had underestimated how lusty she was.
Unable to resist, he leaned in and swiped his tongue through the folds of her pussy. Her taste exploded in his mouth, and his cock throbbed. All he could think about was eating his woman out. He sank deep, barely aware of the slight sting of pain as her grip on his hair tightened and she cried out above him.
He cradled her bottom in his hands, squeezing the cheeks as he thrust into her pussy with his tongue like he wanted to do with his cock. He ate at her, inhaled her, 'til he was half crazy with needing her. When the frantic jerking of her hips dislodged his face, he snarled, and without thinking, raised his hand and brought it down on the curve of her ass in a light spank.
She froze and some of the lust dissipated from his brain to wonder if he had gone too far.
But, no. Instead of pushing him away, Maira hooked one of her long, luscious legs over his shoulder, opening herself up even more to him. "Do that again," she breathed.
He grinned and instead of obliging her, nudged her clit with his tongue before drawing it into his mouth for a strong, healthy suck. Oh yes. She was perfect for him.
He alternated that for a while, sucking on her clit, fucking her deep with his tongue. When he knew she was about to combust, he drew back and laid a light smack---right on the hard bud of her clit. Then again. And again. From his vantage point, he had a front-seat view of her climax. His Maira didn't do anything as girly as scream. Her leg tightened around his neck, she tipped her head back, and moaned low and long. Wanting to feel more, he slid his forefinger inside of her pussy. Instead of just feeling the tail end of her orgasm, she ground down against him and whimpered as a fresh set of pulsations massaged his finger.
It was...wow. There were no words to describe how good he felt. Like Conan the Barbarian and Don Juan all rolled into one.
When she finally relaxed against the back of the sofa, he removed his hand from her juicy flesh. She kept her eyes open at half mast and studied him. Deliberately, he drew his forefinger into his mouth and sucked her juices clean.
She breathed deeply. "Sasha, that was... I may make you do that. A lot."
Laughter and passion had never mixed for him before, but they did with her. "Yum."
She sighed, closing her eyes and relaxing into the couch. Sweet thing. She couldn't possibly think he was done, could she?
For a moment, Maira thought Sasha's talented tongue had wrecked her equilibrium. But when she opened her eyes, she realized he had simply hoisted her into his arms, Gone With the Wind style.
You are definitely not Scarlett. Particularly when she was a boneless dead weight after the best orgasm over. Automatically, she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Sasha, I'm too big for this."
"Says you." He kissed her, a quick, hard peck meant to shut her up. "Now hush and let me enjoy this."
He knew where her bedroom was, and he carried her upstairs unerringly. As her naked skin brushed up against his still-clothed body, she forgot about her concern over the strain in his back and legs. All she could think about was how small and feminine he made her feel.
Not to mention all the things you haven't even done yet. Technically, they had yet to have sex. Well, perhaps cunnilingus was a form of sex, but he had used it more as foreplay, so it didn't count. She thought. It was an interesting rationalization...
Her thoughts about sex classification flew out of her mind when her back hit the soft mattress of her bed. "I have condoms," she blurted out, simply because it seemed like pertinent information.
He blinked and looked as if he were being jolted out of a dream. "That's...great. Where?"
She leaned over and removed a box from her nightstand. Trying to force a confident and self-assured tone, she opened it and withdrew a strip. "I thought we should be prepared."
"Smart girl." He ripped one off and tossed the rest of the strip on the nightstand. "We'll keep those handy."
Gulp. She moved to get up and pull the covers back, but was stopped by the low growl of Sasha's voice. My, but that sound did funny things to her stomach. "Don't bother. The only thing covering you is going to be me."
Oh. Sexy, sexy. Mute from sensory overload, she watched as he divested himself of his clothes quickly, kicking his shoes and socks off, his pants and shirt following suit.
And then he was naked. The thick length of his penis was deliciously long and curved, his large hand slowly stroking down the length of it as he donned the condom. The fading sunset from outside her window cast streaks of orange and red and yellow across his ripped abdomen, thick thighs and wide chest, as if he were a fertility God coming to life.
No, not a God. A warrior. He had muscles on top of muscles, the strength underscored by the various scars he'd accumulated over the years. The one on his thigh was the most obvious, though it had nicely healed, but there were others as well.
He didn't give her nearly enough time to appreciate the picture he made before his shoulders blocked out the light and he was covering her.
Oh, wow. Feeling his naked body against hers was...hmm. There were no words. She ran her leg up the length of his, the wiry hairs scraping her skin. He grunted and reached down to haul her leg up so it wrapped around his waist. She didn't require any prompting to twine her arms around his neck. He seemed to like it when she scraped her nails against his shoulders.
"I can't wait anymore," he muttered. She didn't answer, because she couldn't wait either. Instead, she just gave a slight arch of her hips. The smooth head of his penis burrowed into her wetness. Reaching down, he used his hand to guide the broad tip inside. And pushed.
With just the first inch buried inside of her, she flinched. Attuned to her body, he stopped and cradled her face in his hands. "Okay?"
Only when she nodded did he push a little deeper. He coaxed her into accepting him, pulling out, pushing more in. The motion was so hypnotic and compelling, she was stunned when he stopped, his head dropping next to hers on the pillow. That was when she realized he was as deep inside of her as he could physically go.
She turned her head and kissed his cheek. Oh yes, she really did love Sasha's scent, even when he was sweaty. Especially when he was sweaty because of her. "Why did you stop?"
"Does it hurt?"
She considered the question carefully. She was full, a fullness she'd never experienced before in her life. It verged on uncomfortable. But hurting? Nah. She shook her head.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. It feels a bit strange, but no pain. I don't think I still had my hymen. That's not a surprise, since I rode horses as a teenager---"
He cut her off with a swift kiss. His laughter warmed her lips. "Babe, let's talk about your hymen later, okay?"
She was about to say something in response when he shifted his hips and tiny fireworks went off inside her. Instead, she moaned and sank her fingers into his shoulders.
That seemed to be all that he needed. He pushed up on his elbows and stared down at her. His hips picked up speed, hammering into hers.
The uncomfortably full feeling vanished, particularly when he reached down and spread her open so his body rubbed against her clit with every thrust. It was an inspired move, and she showed him how much she appreciated it by arching her hips up into his.
He groaned when she wrapped both legs around his hips, tightening her grip on him, if it was even possible. He placed a hand under her bottom to steady her as he let loose with whatever remnants of restraint he'd employed, rutting against her.
When her orgasm rolled through her, it made the climax she'd had downstairs feel like a puny, insignificant little thing. She clenched down over the foreign hardness inside of her, and then imploded around it. Dimly, she heard his shout of pleasure. The heat of his semen, muted by the condom, warmed her.
When she came back to her senses, he was lying on his back next to her, his chest moving up and down like a bellows. She reached out and patted his sweat-damp stomach. "Sex is awesome."
He gave a wheezy chuckle. "Agreed."
"Totally worth waiting for."
He brought her fingers to his lips. "Absolutely."
They lay like that for a long while, on their backs, trying to catch their breaths. When he felt as though muscle tone had returned to his body, he rolled out of the bed and padded to her small attached bath to dispose of the condom. When he returned, he found his bedmate standing just to the side of the window, closing the blinds.
She glanced over her shoulder at him, not even batting an eye at his nudity or blushing over hers. It felt natural they be together like this.
He crossed the room and took her in his arms. "Sore? Want a bath?"
"Not really." Her brow wrinkled. "Should I be cringing in pain?"
He shrugged. His experience with virgins was nil.
"I think I'm an unusual virgin."
"Or I really am a blessed man." His cock wasn't huge by any means, but he was a big man all over. Then again, Maira wasn't petite. Her strong body could, apparently, more than handle his, even fresh out of the gate. The channel of her pussy had been narrow and untried, but still she had taken him deep. When she had come, the tight pulsations all around his cock had almost blown the top of his head off. His dick, already semi-hard, perked up. He knew it had been a long time since he'd had sex, but he didn't think it was an exaggeration for him to say that he had never had sex like that.
But then, he'd never loved a woman like Maira.
He exhaled, overcome by the thought, and leaned in to nuzzle his nose against hers. Yeah, he loved her, had for a long time. It had been one of those sneaky loves, silently growing without him even realizing it was there.
Hell, if Maira hadn't made the first move, would he have ever acknowledged it? Or would he have let life pass them by?
Scary thought.
He stroked his hands down her flanks until he could clench his hands over her hips, luxuriating in the strength and curves of her statuesque body. Man, he had really lucked out. He kissed her. With her naked body rubbing all over him, his cock didn't take long to harden.
Regretfully, he withdrew. "I don't want you to hurt tomorrow."
She stared up at him, her lips shiny and wet. She smelled like him. It was driving him crazy. "We can only have sex once tonight?"
"What?"
"Is that in the virgin handbook?"
He chuckled, unable to help himself. "Well, no. But I don't want you to..."
It was a good thing his reflexes were sound. He caught her instinctively when she leaped into his arms, her mile-long legs wrapping around his hips. "I told you, I don't think I'm a good virgin. Let's go for round two."
Sasha woke to the best feeling in the world, a warm wet suction on his cock. He'd dreamed of this before, particularly in one vivid fantasy involving a race of alien women who kidnapped and demanded sex from their abductees, but it had never felt quite so real.
He blinked the sleep from his eyes, took in the still-dark room, and looked down to find the covers thrown back and Maira curled up between his legs.
Oh. This was better than sex-starved alien women.
She gave an especially hungry suck on the sensitive head of his cock, and he tipped his head back and groaned. Much better.
At his noise she looked up at him and let his dick pop free of her mouth. "You're awake. I was running an experiment."
He didn't care what she was running as long as she kept stroking his balls with that featherlight touch. "Yeah?"
"Mmm. You were almost soft when I woke up. Then I just touched you and you started to become erect." She paused and lapped at the side of his penis, running her tongue up and down the vein. "It took you almost three minutes to wake up once I put my mouth on you. Isn't it amazing how a male body can react even while sleeping?"
"Uh-huh." He used one hand to thread his fingers through her hair. "Why don't we see how long it takes me to react once I'm awake?"
In response, she tightened her grip on the base of his cock. "I want to see how deep I can take you before my gag reflex is stimulated. Do you mind?" she asked politely.
He stared down at her, incredulous. "Are you kidding me?"
A small, very feminine smile curved her lips. "Yes." Holding him steady, she took him between her lips again, sliding down until he could feel her throat kissing the tip. She withdrew and did it again. And again.
He loved this. Christ, was there anything better than getting a blowjob from a woman you were crazy about? He wanted to grip her hair, hold her still, and fuck her mouth mindlessly, and he knew she probably wouldn't mind, but here, at least, he could try to ease her into something new.
He released his hold on her hair and grabbed handfuls of the sheet underneath him. He wouldn't go insane. She was playing though, and he needed to come soon. If there was one thing Maira was good at, however, it was picking up new things. "Lick your hand," he bit out. "Make it wet. Wrap it around the part you can't suck...oh yes. Just like that. Faster."
She was a quick study, and within a few seconds she was taking him deeper, faster, her hands and mouth picking up the exact rhythm that he needed and wanted.
When he felt the ghost of her touch on his sensitive balls, he moaned. "Touch them harder. You won't hurt."
She did it perfectly, rolling the sacs in her palm while she bobbed her head on his cock.
It was too much, and he released the sheet to cup her flexing cheek, drawing her lips off. Wrapping his hand around hers, he watched her fascinated gaze as he beat at his cock until the streams of come spurted, landing on his belly.
He relaxed back into the bed, closing his eyes and dropping his arm over them. The bed shifted, there was a padding of footsteps. He opened his gaze to find her cleaning his belly off with a wet nap. She smiled at him sweetly when she noticed he was watching, and leaned over the side of the bed to toss the napkin into the wastebasket. He managed to lift his boneless arm to cuddle her back into his chest.
Though words of gratitude and praise rang in his head, he couldn't figure out what to say. There was so much...too much. How had he gotten so lucky?
"I know you said that you think oral sex is sex, but I think sometimes it can be classified as foreplay."
He looked down at her. "What?"
"Just something I was thinking about. I think if it's followed by vaginal or anal intercourse, it's foreplay. But if it's by itself, I think you could make a good argument that it's sex."
"Um. Okay."
She patted his chest. "Next time, I want to taste you."
He gave a rough laugh. There it was again, tenderness and arousal. "We'll see."
"You can go back to sleep. It's barely five."
Yeah. That's what he would do. Maybe when he got some more sleep, he would be able to verbalize better.
"Sasha, lemme---mmm. Let's get inside."
"I've been waiting for you all day." He kissed her again deeply, dying to put all of his desire and love into his kiss.
She melted against him in that insanely accepting way she had and then pushed against his shoulders. "I know for a fact you've been doing more than waiting for me to get off work."
"Barely." He leaned in closer until her butt was pressed up against her car. "Let me show you what I thought about."
"Inside, Sasha." She gave him her stern look, the one that made him want to throw her down somewhere and mess her up. She was still dressed in her scrubs, her hair in a rumpled braid running down her back, tiny stubborn curls jumping out around her face.
He'd gotten to watch this morning as she'd hurriedly tied up her hair. The novelty of seeing her grooming ritual had somewhat made up for the fact that she hadn't been able to linger in bed with him on their first morning after. He hadn't had nearly enough of her body before the alarm had gone off.
He drew away reluctantly, mostly because he knew her neighbors lived too close for them to really have any fun outside. Next time, we'll try it at my place. He had a hot tub in the back and a high fence.
"What are you thinking about?"
He focused on her as she walked next to him up her walkway. "Water."
Her forehead wrinkled. It was damn cute.
They were barely inside the door before he had her back in his arms, kissing her slowly. He pulled back only to allow them both some air. "I go back to work on Wednesday."
She looked surprised and then grinned. "Sasha! That's wonderful."
"Yeah." It was. It felt pretty damn good to know he wouldn't be sitting on his ass anymore. His vacation days had been well used. The therapy had helped as well. And Maira...Maira had been essential in clearing his mind, getting him ready to face work again.
"We should go celebrate."
"That's what I was trying to do when you interrupted me outside," he said dryly as she slipped out of his arms and walked into her living room. She dumped her big tote bag on the couch and turned to face him, jumping a little to find him so close.
"I was thinking we could do something."
"Huh." He slid his hand over her hip. "Me too."
She sighed. "I put out and you forget all about wining and dining, is that it?"
"I warned you it would happen, but you had to have your way."
Maira didn't move out of his reach. "Is that right?"
"Three years, Maira," he reminded her. "Do you know what three years of celibacy are like for a man?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Is it something like what twenty-four years of celibacy are like for a woman?"
He considered that. "Let's talk about something else."
She fought her smile. "Fine."
"I have reservations for us at Salvatore's at eight."
"We're going out?" She appeared surprised, and no doubt. Sal's was always chock-full of local people who would recognize him in a second.
It was time, though. "I thought you'd like it. And after that picnic yesterday, anything else will seem like a...well, picnic."
"I do like it. Let me shower and change."
"I figured you'd have to do that..." He turned her so her butt met the back of the sofa. Keeping his gaze locked on hers, he slowly tugged at the knot at the waistband of her scrubs. "Why don't you let me get you a little dirtier and you can make that shower really count?"
He loved her immediate acceptance. Her breath came faster as he slid her pants and panties down her legs. She lifted her arms when he tugged at her shirt and helped him in unsnapping her bra. "Can you...make it different this time?"
"Different, how?"
"Different position, different...something. I want to learn it all."
Whoa, pressure. When Maira's genius brain wanted to learn something, she really applied herself.
Sasha thought that lesson one should be that she wouldn't always call the shots. To that end, he dipped his head and fastened his mouth over the patch of skin on her throat that he knew drove her mad. He sucked, fast and hard.
Sure enough, she gave a shaky moan, pressing her body closer to his when he crowded her against the sofa. Oh yes. Perfect. The nude folds of her pussy rubbed right over his cock through his pants. The thing was acting as if it hadn't been fully satisfied last night. She was just so juicy and slick...could it really be blamed?
Of course not.
They were both fumbling for his belt when a slight musical tone filled the air. "What is that?"
She froze. "My phone. Hang on, I've been dodging that call for a couple of days. I have to get that."
He stood back to allow her to turn and lean over the sofa to rummage through her bag. She straightened right away, but the quick glimpse he had of her in that position fired his imagination. Tuning out her conversation, he studied her nice round ass as he disrobed.
He heard her gasp when he pressed against her from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist. He was amused to realize she'd grabbed a cushion from the couch and held it in front of her as if to preserve her modesty from whoever was on the phone. He didn't have to expend much energy to pull the cushion away from her and toss it on the sofa. Drawing her earlobe between his teeth, he stroked her belly, enjoying the response of her body.
"No, I didn't say anything." She threw a frown over her shoulder and covered his hand, which was creeping up toward her breasts. "Sounds like you're having fun."
We can have some fun too. He twisted his hand under hers until it covered hers and then swiftly guided their entwined hands to the tight bud of her nipple. He used her own palm to abrade it. Her gasp was louder this time. She tried to cover it with a cough. "I have to go. No, everything's fine. I'll---oh."
He sank the finger of his other hand between the bare folds of her pussy. With his thumb, he rubbed her erect clit. He loved the way she felt against his hand, all silky wet and slippery.
Her head fell back against his chest, her breathing coming in imperceptible pants. "Mom, I---bye." She blindly pressed a button on the phone.
Mom?
He grabbed the cell before it could drop from her fingers, making sure she had disconnected it before tossing it on the couch. "Christ, Maira, you didn't tell me that was your mother."
"I am so irritated with you for that stunt."
Hell, he wouldn't have pulled the stunt if he'd had any idea who was on the other end. "She couldn't tell. Right?" He hoped so.
"What if she could? That is not how I want you to meet my mother, her freaking out on the phone because some man is alone with me and making me gasp and moan."
Mentally, he shrugged. If she suspected something, she suspected something, and he'd help Maira deal with it later. Right now, they could put their nudity to better use. He pinched her nipple, and she let out one of the aforementioned gasps.
"That was nothing." He withdrew his touch, stepped back, and guided her body so she was bent over at the waist, her ass sticking straight out. He pressed a hand against her back when she made an instinctual move to get up. "Let's see if we can recreate some of those moans. Grab on to the couch."
She didn't give even a token of protest, but caught hold of the back of the sofa.
As badly as he wanted to sink inside her, he couldn't resist fondling her ass first. Such a provocative pose. Her brown skin shone in the fading sunlight, all smooth and curved. Taking his cock in hand, he rubbed the head of it up and over her ass, spreading his moisture so she gleamed. He followed his cock with his hands, massaging his pre-come into her flesh, squeezing the cheeks. She more than filled his hands, and he luxuriated in that expanse of flesh.
He spread her cheeks apart, tantalized by the sight of her anus winking up at him. She gave a ragged exhale of breath when he stroked his thumb over that opening. He followed with his cock, rubbing it up and over. It took him a moment to realize what she was saying. "Wait...not that different."
His smile was tinged with hunger. "No, of course not." He gently pressed his cock against her and squeezed the soft flesh of her cheeks around it. They both moaned when he ground against her.
"Not yet, at least," she added breathlessly.
Would they ever get to the point where she couldn't make him mindless with lust? With a few words she destroyed whatever control he had left.
Condom. Yes, condom. He stroked his hand along her buttock. "Don't move." It only took a second to dig his wallet out from his pants pocket to find the condom he'd stashed there.
Once he donned it, he tested her readiness. One day soon, when he wasn't slavering like a beast to get inside her, he would treat her to hours of foreplay, maybe just sucking her breasts and her neck, eating her out until she fainted.
But unfortunately, that day was not today.
Even without hours of loving attention, her body was more than ready for him. Her pussy hugged and massaged his finger as soon as he inserted it. He added a second finger, scissoring them inside of her to widen her snug passage.
She whimpered and thrust her ass back against him. The provocative move just about undid him. With a growl, he lined up his cock and sank it home.
It was like she was made for him. Her pussy resisted him at first, but when he thrust with a steady pressure, it opened right up and welcomed him in. He hated the condom, resenting the way it kept him from feeling all of her wetness and tissues around him.
She didn't shrink away with virginal fright or even really need to be coaxed. Though he tried to give her time to adjust to his body inside of hers, she only took a ragged breath when he was lodged all the way in and then thrust her hips back at him.
"Give it a second."
She didn't bother to listen to him, only rocked her body forward and back again. He let her ride him once more, and then he grabbed a hold of her waist to keep her still. With a quick lunge, he withdrew and thrust his cock deep. She gave a strangled scream. He halted, a little worried. "Too hard?"
She looked over her shoulder at him. She'd folded her arms on the back of the couch and rested her head on them, throwing her back into a more dramatic arch. "Harder."
He wished he could put words together, but he was incapable of doing more than grunting. He took her at her word, setting a steady pace, unable to do anything but hold her still and hammer inside of her like he was trying to plumb her straight to her tonsils.
He figured this could quickly become his favorite position with Maira, though any situation that ended up with him inside of her was nothing but a good thing. The erotic sight of him fucking her like this was going to be one of those things that flashed before his eyes when he died.
"I love this," he muttered. "I love how tall you are. I don't even have to bend my knees to fuck you like this." He spread her cheeks wider and watched as her body swallowed his cock, shiny with her cream. The slap of his pelvis against her ass was loud. Her body made a lewd sucking noise when he fucked her.
The sights, the sounds, the feel...it was too much. He'd had some idea that he would finish this missionary style in the bed---was it okay to do this with a woman who'd been a virgin only yesterday?---but he just couldn't stop.
She didn't seem to mind. No one would call her a screamer, but he'd picked up on the series of breathy moans that seemed to signal an impending orgasm for Maira. She made a startled sound when he straightened her body up. Holding her shoulders steady with one hand, the other holding her breast, he bent his knees and fucked upward with short, hard jabs that had her coming with a strangled scream.
There it is. Satisfaction burst through him.
Without waiting for her orgasm to subside---God, he loved fucking through those clasping contractions---he bent her over again and thrust furiously. When he felt his balls tighten in climax, he withdrew. Without explaining himself, he stripped the condom off, grabbed his cock in his hand and jacked it off. It only took three strokes of his hand before he was coming, the thick white streams landing on her ass and back.
When he was finally finished, he couldn't stop himself from massaging his semen into her shiny flesh. Mine, he thought savagely. All mine.
Both of their breathing slowed, and he realized what he was doing. Even then, he couldn't stop, his hands passing over her skin. She turned her head and glanced back at him. "I think I could use a bath now."
His laugh was rusty, and he forced himself to stop. He helped her stand, rubbing any lingering strain from her back. Instant regret flashed over him when she gave a big stretch. "Are you okay?"
She paused mid-stretch and gave him a puzzled look. "Of course."
"I can't believe I took you like that." Now that he thought about it, he really should have taken her back to the bed. She'd said she wanted different, but he could have done that in the bed. He'd deflowered her roughly as it was the night before, and then he'd fucked her bent over her own sofa---
"Ow." He rubbed his arm where she'd smacked him. It hadn't really hurt, but it had been unexpected. "What was that for?"
"You were going back into that crazy world where virgin automatically equaled a lack of passion." She leveled a finger at him. "Cut it out. I'm a tough girl, and if you want to bend me over backwards right now, I'm game."
The casual offer coming out of that usually circumspect mouth made him smile. It made his spent cock do a little more than smile. "I got it. How 'bout that bath first?"
She was still frowning, and he could practically see her insanely smart brain clicking away. "The bath isn't because I'm sore, it's because I'm..." Now she flushed. The color rose on her pale breasts. "Sticky. Where you..." She shook her head and bent down to gather their clothes.
Ahh, apparently her irritation-fueled bravado could only power her so far. He pasted an innocent expression on his face. "Where I what?"
She gave him an exasperated look and pivoted to walk toward her bedroom.
He tagged behind. "What did I do? When I kissed you? Is that it? Or maybe it was when I licked your neck. Yup, that's gotta be what you're sticky from."
He laughed when she gave him the finger, and kept laughing even when he hugged her, wet and slippery under the shower.
Maira woke up with a start, ready to jump out of bed when she realized the room was already bright with light. She glanced at her watch, surprised to discover it was already seven. She was usually up and about by five, particularly on Mondays. Even if she wasn't scheduled to work, she still had a ton of things to do. Then again, she'd never spent a good portion of her weekend nights making love. She was entitled to an off day.
She slipped out of bed and then winced. She'd underestimated just how sore she'd be. She'd been riding horses for quite some time, but her thighs had been put through the mother of all workouts over the past couple of days. To say nothing of the flesh between her legs.
But, oh, it had been worth it.
Taking care not to awaken the lightly snoring, adorable man lying in her bed, she slipped on the first pair of underwear she could find, plus a roomy pair of shorts and her scrub top from the night before, and then padded downstairs to the kitchen.
She'd always thought those depictions of how women acted after a night of lusty sex were exaggerations. But right now, she was totally Scarlett the morning after Rhett had carried her up the stairs, all loose limbed and feminine feeling.
She hummed a cheerful tune as she entered her kitchen and opened her refrigerator. What did one eat for breakfast on a lazy morning after?
Not cereal. That was far too mundane. Oatmeal was boring. Her gaze lit on the bacon and eggs on the top shelf. Perfect. Protein was always good for a body after exertion. She didn't know when Sasha would wake up, so she'd just get everything ready. When she straightened from the fridge, the carton in hand, she just happened to glance out the wide kitchen window. And froze.
Nightmares did come true. Because, after her second night of major loving with the man of her dreams, the absolute last person she ever wanted to see was her mother. Yet there she was, her small, hefty frame trundling up the stairs to Maira's front door.
She was so frozen with horror, she couldn't move until she heard the doorbell ring.
Don't answer it. Maybe she'll go away.
Well, that was just stupid.
The doorbell rang again, the musical chime ringing through the house. It wasn't that she was scared of her mother, it was just that...well, damn it, the woman would be disappointed with her. Though the two of them had never once discussed sex---the thought made Maira gag---she knew that her mother expected her daughters to be virgins until they married. Or died. Whichever came first.
As of this weekend, she had firmly taken herself out of the virgin pool.
The bell rang a third time. The terrifying thought that Sasha might wake up, hear it and come waltzing downstairs pushed her into motion. She slammed the egg carton hard enough against the counter to crack some of its contents and darted to the front door. On the way, she tried to smooth down some of her loose hair, but without a brush and a hair tie, the long mass was a mess of knots and wavy frizz.
She opened the door just as her mother was about to press the bell again. "Mom! What a surprise."
Her mother took in every detail of her unkempt appearance with a single glance. "I told you I was visiting your sister when I called you yesterday."
"You didn't say you were coming here next."
"You sounded funny on the phone."
Blasted phone. She truly would strangle Sasha.
"Since when do I have to tell my youngest daughter I'm coming by?"
"Of course you don't." Maira stood aside for her mom to enter and shut the door behind her.
"Hmph. You just woke up? This late?"
She pasted a smile on her face and turned to look at her. "No. I was just upstairs...in the bathroom. About to get in the shower." There, that would explain her thrown-on clothes and crazy loose hair.
"Whose car is that in the driveway?"
She froze. God, why had she never learned how to lie well? "Car?" Even to her own ears, her voice sounded unnaturally high.
"Yes. The car. It's not yours."
"It's, um, my friend's."
Her mom crossed her arms over her ample chest. "And where is this friend?"
"He's...outside. In the garden. He's here to help me garden."
"And you greeted a man looking like this?"
Though Maira towered over the older woman, she felt about two inches tall when she got that disappointed look. "I...no. I mean..." Oh, crap.
The strains of Für Elise woke Sasha up, and he yawned lustily and scratched his chest. He cast a glance at the nightstand, smiling when he saw the bright yellow plastic alarm clock on top of the antique wood. Maira's décor was perfect for her. Calm and controlled on the surface with flashes of fun and excitement and unpredictability.
The music came again, and he frowned, realizing it was the doorbell. Who would come here at seven in the morning?
Curious, he slid out of bed, pulled on his boxers and padded to the door silently. When he opened it a crack, he could clearly hear Maira's voice. "Mom! What a surprise."
Without making a noise, he thunked his head against the doorjamb.
He tried to be as quiet as possible as he kept the door open to listen to their conversation and pulled his pants, shirt and shoes on. Though he hadn't yet met Maira's parents, he knew they were about as conservative as his own had been. Her mother would not be happy to find some man in her daughter's bedroom. In fact, she might feel a great deal like he felt when he'd discovered Mason in his sister's.
Dude, karma. This is completely karma.
This was not the first impression he wanted to make on the mom of the woman he loved. Not at all.
He listened tensely while Maira gave a stuttering explanation for his car in her driveway. Say someone left it here because they went on a long trip. Say your friend is upstairs, working on your plumbing. Say...
"He's...outside. In the garden. He's here to help me garden."
He looked over at the bedroom window and the large tree scraping up against it. Son of a bitch.
Maira was trying to figure out some way to stop her mother from marching out the back door to meet her gardening friend when her doorbell rang again.
Dreading to see who it was now, she crossed the foyer and opened it. And stared.
"Hey, Maira, not ready yet? Come on, we have to get this yard work finished before the sun gets too hot."
Sasha didn't wait for her response, which was good, since she was too confused to give him one. He simply pushed past her into her foyer and gave her mother a blinding smile. "Hello."
Her mother cocked her head, a fascinated expression on her face. "Hello. You must be Maira's friend. The one who's helping her around the yard."
"Yes, I am."
"Are you helping her with tree trimming as well?"
"Ahh..."
The older woman's tone was very gentle. "You have tree leaves in your hair."
To his credit, Sasha didn't even blink, simply reached up and dusted the leaves onto the foyer ground. "And you must be Maira's mother. It's easy to see where Maira gets her good looks from."
Since Maira looked nothing like her short, plump mother, she almost snorted. Her mom, though, seemed to relax, and held out her hand. "And what is your name?"
"Sasha Karimi, Mrs. Khan. It's a pleasure to meet you."
Her mother's face fell a little bit. "Karimi. You are not Pakistani?"
"My parents were both from Iran."
She pursed her lips and considered that. "Are you a doctor with Maira?"
"No, ma'am, I'm a police officer."
Though she was visibly disappointed, Maira's mother cast a glance her way. "Maira, why don't you put some coffee together? Your friend and I will talk about..." she looked at Sasha and raised a challenging brow, "...gardening, in the meantime. That is, if he doesn't mind."
Maira realized then that she'd remained completely mute throughout this whole farce. "Um, I'm sure Sasha has lots of things he needs to---"
"Nonsense. Go ahead and make that coffee and I'll keep your mom company," he said, smiling determinedly. He looked down at the other woman and offered her his arm in a gallant gesture. Maira could practically see her mom putting a couple of pluses under his "pro" column. Probably not enough to offset his lack of a medical degree, but it didn't hurt him.
She would have stood there worrying her hands together if Sasha hadn't glanced over his shoulder and shot her a quick wink. It gave her just the right amount of motivation that she needed to go back into the kitchen and put some coffee together. As it perked, she drummed her fingers against the counter.
She wanted her parents to like Sasha, and as he'd apparently realized, their only way out of this was to brazen it out. She tried to be optimistic. Maybe her mom would fall in love with Sasha like she had, even though he was hanging around her home at a crazy hour of the morning. Even though his parents had emigrated from the wrong country. Even though he was a lowly public servant.
Maira massaged her temples. Being optimistic was hard work.
She poured coffee into two mugs and fixed them the way she knew that her mother and Sasha liked them. She didn't bother with a cup for herself. Her stomach was churning too much to put coffee in it.
She thought she was hearing things when her mother's chuckles drifted through the living room. When she entered her mom was grinning widely, sitting in one of her armchairs. Sasha sat on the couch.
"Maira," her mom said excitedly as she gestured her closer and took the mug that she handed her. "You didn't tell me this was the cop who saved all those children! It took me a minute to recognize his name." She turned back to Sasha. "Such bravery and heroism."
Maira walked over to hand Sasha his mug, and watched as he dipped his head and murmured his thanks before sipping.
"And so humble too. Why, just the other day I was telling my friends how so many other men would have raced on to the late-night talk shows or released a book. You don't see your young man anywhere."
If Maira didn't know better, she would swear Sasha was blushing on command. "Well, that's just the way my parents raised me, ma'am."
This time she didn't stop herself from rolling her eyes. He caught it. His lips quirked up.
"So, Sasha...tell me about this family of yours."
Sasha really liked Maira's mother, despite the fact she could conduct an interrogation like no one he'd ever met. The woman should go into police work.
He felt a little drained by the time the older woman placed her mug on the coffee table and hefted out of her chair. "Well, I should be going."
Maira, who it seemed had long ago stopped paying attention, turned away from the window and blinked. "So soon?"
"Oh yes. I have a poker tournament with the girls tonight."
"Oh. Okay." The three of them walked to the front door.
"It was lovely meeting you, Mrs. Khan."
She smiled. "You as well. Maira---we'll talk later."
Maira nodded and returned her hug. When she shut the door behind her mother, Maira collapsed against it in relief. "Good job. I think she likes you."
He shrugged. "Of course she does. Moms usually love me. Even when I'm not saving children."
She snorted, and he was relieved to note some color returning to her face. "You did lay it on a bit thick there."
"It's called charm, Ms. Maira. It's a gift. Meanwhile, helping in your garden? You know I'm too old to be climbing down trees."
She grinned. He opened his arms, and she wasted no time in getting inside of them. He hugged her close and nuzzled the baby-fine hair at her temple. Ah, yes, this...this was what he had wanted to wake up to. This made everything complete.
Of course, he couldn't be allowed to savor the sensation of her snuggled in his arms. Her front door opened wide, and they both froze. The older woman standing there lifted an eyebrow at him, and he had to resist the urge to shove Maira away.
Karma.
It took him a moment to realize that Maira was frantically pushing against him. He released her and she turned to face her parent. "Mom! What...? I thought..."
Poor, honest-to-the-bones Maira. He placed his arm around her, despite her stiff shoulders, and gave her mother a shrug in a the-jig-is-up kind of way. "Hi again, Mrs. Khan."
She nodded. If he didn't know better, he would swear she was fighting to keep a smile off her face. "I thought I forgot my keys." She held up the keys in her hand. "Silly me. They were in my pocket."
Keys, his ass. Now he had to fight the smile. She was crafty. He really liked this woman.
She grabbed a hold of the doorknob and pinned him with a steady gaze. "You will come to our house for dinner next Sunday."
It wasn't a question, it was a command. Still, Sasha nodded.
She smiled. "Excellent. Maira's father will be thrilled to meet you."
With that, she was gone. Sasha released his hold on Maira. "Exactly how terrifying is your father?"
Maira stifled a snort as she walked to the doorway to lock it. No more chances.
Her father was a mild academic. He'd probably spend the evening making Sasha watch golf with him. With a family of women, Daddy was pathetically grateful for any males hanging around. Still, wariness was a good look for Sasha. "Don't worry. He only has one gun."
The almost comical expression of alarm on his face made her giggle too much to keep the lie up. After a second, he joined in, though his laugh was more strained. When she moved to hug him again, he backed away, his hands up. She wasn't sure how feigned his look of horror was. "Make sure she's gone first."
"I heard her car."
"Sure?"
"Positive."
He considered that, and then allowed her to draw close. "Thank you," she said softly. "For actually trying to pretend you weren't in my bed."
"Nah, I get it. I figured she wouldn't be the kind of mom who you talked to about your sexcapades."
She shuddered. "Ugh. Ugh."
"I can relate." He patted her on the back. "When Mason and Leyla got together, I actually had to watch them snuggling. It took me about a year before I stopped wanting to blind myself."
Maira laughed and nestled closer.
"Well, darlin', I never got around to asking. How do you feel today?"
"I was a little tender at first." She patted his chest when he stiffened. "But I'm feeling great now."
"Sure?"
"Oh yes. I think I might rub some massage oil in later. That should take care of any lingering aches."
He stroked a hand down her back, trailing over her butt. She pressed closer. "Or...I could rub it in now."
Well, there was really no question of which one she preferred, now was there? "Wait here. Lemme get it."
She heard him laugh as she raced up the stairs. It took her a minute to rummage through her medicine cabinet, but she found the little bottle of oil she used for muscle strains. When she came out of the bathroom, Sasha was standing in the middle of her bedroom, stripping off his shirt.
"I don't mind playing downstairs, but I was worried your mom might forget something again and decide to take a quick peek through the window," he explained. "I thought that might be a little too much for her."
Maira's heart clenched. Aw, he really got her family's sexually repressed dynamics. What a cutie. "You're absolutely right, let's stick to the top floor 'til she's firmly back at the active adults community."
He dropped his shirt on the ground and walked over to her. She'd forgotten about the bottle in her hand until he took it from her. He unscrewed the cap and dabbed a little on his fingers. He brought it up to his nose to smell. "Is this what makes you smell so good?"
She smiled. "One of the things. You notice the way I smell?"
"Sure."
"I thought that was a girl thing."
"Nope."
"I like the scent of lavender, though I tend to only use this oil when I've gone riding and my leg muscles are sore."
"I like the scent of you. Is it safe to use on...sensitive areas?"
Had a question about a product's usage come from any of her patients, she would have answered in a matter-of-fact way, no matter how intimate. However, no one had ever asked about using something on her, so this flustered her. "I--- Yes. I believe the base is simply baby oil."
He tossed the bottle on the bed. "Let's get you ready for your massage, then. Strip."
She crossed her arms in front of her and grasped the hem of her shirt.
"Wait!"
She stopped, the shirt raised only a smidge. "What?"
"You get these for free, don't you?"
"What?"
"The scrubs?"
Why was he asking? "Yes."
He traced his finger over the neckline, surprising her by grabbing it in a strong grip. He took hold of the other side in his other hand and then jerked, splitting the worn cotton straight down the middle.
"Oh," she breathed.
"I can't tell you," he said softly and stood back to admire the way the shirt hung open, "how long I've wanted to do that."
"This kind of makes me wish I was wearing the pants."
"I'm kind of glad you aren't. Now you can take the rest of the clothes off."
She shrugged off the shirt, unsnapped her bra and slid the shorts down her legs. There was no shame in standing in front of him naked. He jerked his head toward the bed, and she walked to it and sat down. "Lay on your stomach."
Obligingly, she lay on her tummy. She felt his gaze licking up over the curve of her back and butt. The muscles there clenched as the silence spun out. She heard a muffled curse from him.
There were some noises next to the bed, so she turned her head to watch him disrobe. His shoes were already gone, and his jeans followed suit. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers and was about to pull them down, when he stopped and drew them back up.
She met his gaze. "What's wrong?"
"If I take these off, this is going to turn from a massage into naked sexy time."
"I'm sorry, do you think it won't turn into naked sexy time if you keep a tiny piece of cotton on?"
He pursed his lips. "I have hopes that the cotton might delay the naked sexy time a little while, at least."
She laughed. He climbed up on the bed and took a hold of the bottle that was lying next to her. She closed her eyes and waited for his touch on her thighs.
Instead, she felt him straddle her hips. "It's mainly my legs that hurt." And inside.
"Don't try to discourage a man who's willing to give you a full-body massage." He put his hands on her shoulders.
Well, when he put it that way...
When he started to move his hands, Maira lost all train of thought. His hands were sure and strong, finding all the kinks and hidden aches in her shoulders and back. He didn't try to restrain his strength; he seemed to know exactly how much pressure she could take.
Though his motions were seductive, there was nothing overtly sexual about the massage. She found herself relaxing into the bed, not starting even when he rubbed the oil into her buttocks. She groaned as the warm liquid went to work in the muscles there, and groaned louder when he worked down her body to her legs, paying special attention to her inner thighs.
She was floating in a dream world of mushy muscles when he nudged her to turn over. Mindlessly, she did, her eyes still closed. He started with her feet this time, working up. Then her stomach, and then her arms, even taking care to slick and rub her hands and fingers.
He released her hands and let them lay face up on the bed. Then, his hands smoothed over her breasts, rubbing her nipples, which were slightly abraded from his attentions during the past nights. It tingled a little. It tingled more when he blew a soft gust of air on the tips.
Oh, this was definitely sexual now. She opened her eyes to find him watching his fingers with an adorably intent expression in his eyes as he rubbed the nipples between his thumb and forefinger. He glanced up, smiled and reached down to trail a slick hand over her stomach. "I love how soft your belly is."
"It could use a couple of sit-ups."
"Don't. I like it soft." He pressed into it, opening and closing his hand over the flesh. "It feels good when it presses against me."
Without waiting for a response, he picked up the bottle and poured a generous amount on her belly.
Her muscles contracted at the cool sensation on her skin. He capped and tossed the bottle back on the bed and went to town working the oil in, massaging in wide circles on her stomach and breasts, stroking down to her thighs in firm, strong pulls. He completely bypassed the rapidly dampening area between her legs.
Her whole body was cool and tingling, while her pussy was getting hot. She shifted her legs, opening them in a gesture he couldn't possibly misconstrue.
Smart man that he was, he didn't, his hands slowly smoothing up her legs, pushing them even wider. He reached her groin and his thumbs dipped between to rest on the entrance of her body.
He used those thumbs to open her and then leaned in, his eyes closed as if he were about to savor something delicious. He'd worn the same expression two nights ago when he'd gone down on her. Having a man so close to her, well, there, should have made her feel shy or nervous.
But he looked like he enjoyed it so very much. Plus, when she'd taken him in her mouth, it hadn't just been for him; she'd gotten pleasure out of it too. Why wouldn't he feel the same way?
The first, barely there touch of his tongue made it clear that this was not going to be the ferocious devouring he'd done two nights ago, though. No...this was almost soothing, if such a thing could be said to apply. He gathered her own moisture, lapped at her inflamed tissues, making shallow forays, coming back out just to touch the tip of his tongue to her clit.
It was so soothing, the lust snuck up on her. She went from relaxed to wanting him, needing his body and weight on top of her.
He must have felt her restlessness in the increased tension of her body. With one last swipe, he rose up on his knees, and slid two long fingers inside of her.
It was perfect. She gasped and arched up. The remnants of the oil that had been on his hands alternately calmed and brought her tissues tingling to life. She grabbed his forearm, felt the muscles flex as he stroked the walls of her vagina with shallow, ready strokes. When he went a little deeper, she tipped her head back with a breathy moan. "Sash...more. Please."
"I don't want to hurt---"
"You won't. I feel great. Better than great." She tugged at his arm. "Please."
"You don't have to beg." He pulled back and slid his boxers off. Before she could bring him over her, he slipped his finger inside of her again. A few strokes, and he withdrew. They both watched, breathless, as he stroked his wet fingers over his naked cock. Her moisture created a trail over the taut, straining flesh. He glanced up at her from beneath his lashes, looking big and sexy and mouthwateringly delicious. "I can't wait to fuck you without a condom."
Oh man. Maira licked her lips. "I...I'm on birth control."
His hand froze on his erection. "I have a physical every year. And you know I haven't been with anyone in longer than that."
The question was implicit in his words. She'd thought maybe they would wait for this next step. That's why she'd bought the condoms, even though she was on the pill.
But then again...what the hell was she waiting for? Certain to the very core, she gave him a slight nod.
Had she been a little less turned on, she might have smiled at the elation in his expression. Instead, all she could do was sigh when his body flowed over hers. He captured her face in his palms and gently thrust with his hips.
The feel of his naked cock sliding inexorably inside of her was so amazing she couldn't look away from his gaze. When he was fully inside, he stopped, closed his eyes, and then opened them again. They were shiny.
Her vision blurred. He gently caught her tear on her cheek and gave her a heartbreaking smile. "Amazing."
"Yes." She shifted, but he shook his head and pinned her to the bed with his hips.
"Wait," he murmured. "Give it a second."
He didn't just give it a second though. A minute ticked by. Then another. And another. She didn't know how long they lay like that; she wasn't sure how he managed to keep himself from moving.
As much as she'd loved their fast rides to completion, this...this was sacred. Everything around her was magnified, the only sounds in the room their breathing and the low hum of her air conditioning. They didn't break their eye contact. Every now and then, their lips met. Their heartbeats started beating in sync. She could hear it, she realized, not just in their chests, but she could feel down below, where they were joined together.
He shifted slightly, his cock dragging against her flesh. Instinctually, her body responded, clenching around him. Sasha grimaced, beads of sweat dampening his brow. Moving just the tiniest bit, he lowered his head and nuzzled at her neck. "Come for me," he whispered. "Just like this." He opened his mouth over the spot he knew she loved and sucked ever so lightly.
The small suction set off a chain reaction in her body, and she rode out an orgasm that was more intense than any other he'd given her. As her body relaxed, she realized that he was locked in his own pleasure. It was a new kind of intimacy to watch him, stroking his hot, damp shoulders, as he silently came, lines of strain crossing his face. To feel his body ejaculating in hers, to catch every iota of drowsy lethargy that softened his face when it was over...it was all so magical.
His heavy weight rested on hers, but she was certainly strong enough to take him. He made a token effort to move, but she shushed him back into place. She kissed his cheek where his head lay next to hers on the pillow. He turned his head and smiled. "I love you, you know."
She stroked a curl off his forehead. "I love you too."
The moment was so lovely she thought, perhaps, she should try to explain all of the things she did love about him. Maybe tell him how and why her love had grown, or explain how she felt when he drew her close or made love to her or even looked at her.
Though she didn't say anything, he beamed as if she had and kissed her tenderly. As his lips moved against hers, Maira realized that sometimes, there simply were no words. And sometimes...they just weren't that necessary.
About the Author
Alisha Rai has been enthralled with romance novels since she smuggled her first tattered Harlequin home from the library at the age of thirteen. There is nothing she loves more than penning sexy, emotional contemporaries and paranormals with larger-than-life heroes and smart, capable heroines.
After a lifetime spent bouncing around the States, she is content to call sunny South Florida home for now. When she's not reading or working, Alisha loves to hang out with her close-knit family. She happily lives in a chaotic house filled with clutter, laughter, good food, boisterous kids and very loud relatives.
Alisha loves to hear from her readers! You can send her an e-mail at alishawrites@gmail.com or visit her on the web at www.alisharai.com.
Look for these titles by Alisha Rai
Now Available:
Glutton for Pleasure
Cabin Fever
Veiled Desire
Look, but don't touch...
Veiled Desire
© 2010 Alisha Rai
Leyla Karimi can't keep her eyes off the hunky guy living in the house behind her. How could any woman resist ogling Dr. Mason Barrett, especially when he makes it so easy by parading around in his skin and skivvies?
If it was only their age difference, she would have made a move a long time ago. Except Mason is more than a neighbor. He's her baby brother's oldest friend. It's not like they can have a casual fling and walk away in the morning.
Mason's been doing a little lusting---okay a lot---for quite some time. When he catches Leyla peeking, it's a sure sign she could finally be ready to heat up his nights with loving. One taste of her lips, though, and he doesn't want a "little" of anything. He wants it all.
Unwilling to jeopardize a lifetime of friendship for a one-night stand, Leyla is reluctant to throw caution to the wind. When he's kissing her senseless, though, it's hard to remember all the reasons why she should hold back...
Warning: Contains a hot hero who doesn't mind baring it all in the name of love, a heroine who doesn't settle for less, a sweet romance, steamy sex in a car and more good lovin' in bed.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Veiled Desire:
As Leyla chewed her last bite, savoring the taste of strawberry, cream cheese and cinnamon, she glanced up to find Mason's gaze on her mouth, his eyes just a bit unfocused. He looked hungry. And since his plate was clean, she figured it wasn't for food.
Her heart rate accelerated. Though she was careful with her love life, she'd received her fair share of admiring looks over the years. She knew what male interest looked like. But...Mason?
Well, why not? Hadn't she spent months wrestling with her attraction and feelings for him? Why wouldn't that desire be reciprocated?
Baby.
Sweetheart.
This is a nice thing to wake up to...
"Why don't you call me Lee-Lee anymore?" she blurted out. Sasha had tagged her with the nickname in childhood. Though her brother had grown out of it, Mason had continued to use it affectionately. But now that she considered it, he had switched to only calling her by her given name for months.
He didn't seem at all startled by her pulling the topic out of thin air. "Because it's a child's name. Neither of us are children, are we?"
She was a bit too rattled to answer. Her heart pounding, she swallowed the lump in her throat and deliberately set her fork to the side. Leyla dipped her finger in the remaining syrup on her plate. His eyes flicked down to follow the lazy figure eight she made and followed her finger back up to her mouth, where she enclosed it and...sucked.
His eyes flared, and he bit his lower lip. Hard.
Oh my. Well, this was very interesting.
Leyla had never considered herself a wilting flower, so as much as she wanted to swoon a little, she stiffened her spine at the obvious signs of desire she was suddenly noting all over him. Dilated eyes, chest rising and falling. Even his nipples were hard.
Want to taste. Then maybe he would reciprocate.
Her head was spinning from the onslaught of the sudden epiphany. Did he just want her for sex? Because that would never work. She wasn't set up to be a fuck buddy. But if he wanted more, did she? What about Sasha? How would her brother react?
Her natural humor kicked in, and she tried to fight the sudden urge to laugh at herself. Sasha had always been the impulsive Karimi, but here she was, ready to go nuts on the basis of a couple of hot looks. Time to slow down and really think about this. He hadn't given her that much encouragement, if she looked at it objectively.
To distract herself, she picked up her plate and stood. "You done?" Without waiting for anything more than his nod, she picked up his empty plate as well and carried them both to the sink. A small pile of dishes had already been gathered there.
As she grabbed the sponge and drizzled some soap on it, she heard the scrape of his chair behind her. "You don't have to do that."
"I don't mind."
"Seriously, leave it."
Trying to diffuse some of her tension, she forced a smile into her voice and made a tsking noise. "Look at all these dirty dishes. You and I both know you'll let these gather until you don't have any other choice. I still have a few minutes, and I'll just---"
Without warning, hard hands closed over her hips, and she dropped the sponge. He swiveled her around. Reaching behind her, he wrenched the water off. "Goddamn it, Leyla. Stop treating me like a kid."
She blinked up at him, stunned at both the anger on his face and the hard tone of his voice. "I'm not."
"You are. I'm not your son, and I'm not your brother. I can do my own fucking dishes."
Her eyes narrowed. "You don't need to swear at me."
He sneered. "Are you going to chastise me for my language now?"
"Someone needs to. You idiot. I certainly don't think I'm your mother."
"Then stop acting like it. You don't have to clean up after me. You certainly don't need to do my fu---"
She slapped her hands against his chest. "That's a nasty swear, Mason. Say it again, and I will make you sorry. I was doing the dishes because you cooked, you ass."
He stilled. "Do you mind if I use it and I'm not swearing at you?"
"What?"
"Fuck."
The short, graphic word looked erotic on his full lips. She caught her breath.
"Do you object to the word or the context?"
"The-the context."
His lips quirked. "I'll keep that in mind. I apologize. I'm sorry if I overreacted."
"I'm not your sister," she blurted out.
"I know that. I've known that for a while. The question is, do you know it?"
"Yes." She realized at that moment that her slightly damp hands were flat against his chest.
His naked, hard, hot chest.
Leyla had never touched him so intimately. Hugs, pecks on the cheek, pats on the back; that was it. The way she'd been raised, males and females who were platonic friends didn't touch each other inappropriately. Mason knew and respected that.
She couldn't look at his face. Instead, she studied her hands, so small against the wide expanse of his chest. Her one hand curved over his developed pec. She only had to move just a smidgeon to scrape the nail of her pinky over his nipple.
Then he was growling, a low rumbling noise, using his tight grip on her hips to pull her closer and crowd her against the counter. He shoved one hand into her hair, tilted her head and lowered his lips to hers.
All she could think was that she no longer needed to wonder if he desired her. He didn't bother with an exploratory foray or gentle teasing. He kissed her as if they'd been kissing for years, as if he had an absolute right to her lips and her mouth. It was hot and carnal, his mouth open on hers, his tongue stroking against hers and inside. When she twined her arms around his neck and sank into him, he made a rough noise and captured the zipper on her hoodie. One quick tug had it undone, and then it was like her shirt just magically undid itself of its buttons for him as well. He pushed it to the side with rough impatience until her breast filled his hand.
When he pinched her nipple, Leyla figured she was pretty much done for. Her breasts were sensitive, but Mason touched her with just the perfect amount of pressure. She arched her back and whimpered into his mouth. God, she wanted more.
He ripped his mouth away and studied her with hot eyes. She knew what she would see if she glanced down at herself right then. Tousled hair, unbuttoned top, her right breast plumped up by his hand, her nipple long and tight. She didn't want to look down at herself. The reality would force her brain back into action. There was a certain comfort and simplicity in letting one's vagina do the talking. "Mason, please..."
Slashes of red crested Mason's high cheekbones. "You're so beautiful." He dipped his head, pulling her nipple into the wet cavern of his mouth.
If she'd thought that Mason knew how to touch a nipple, that was nothing compared to how well he could suck one. He was a freakin' maestro of the nipple, suckling hard and fast, teasing her with light flicks of his tongue. She looked down at his blond head against her skin. Instantly, doubts and worries crept into her mind. She shut her eyes and they faded. She didn't want to think. Just feel.
He drew away from her nipple. "One day, I want to spend just an hour or two sucking your breasts. Will you let me do that?"
What was a girl supposed to say to that? Yes please? She nodded, since she really couldn't think of anything she'd rather have at that moment.
"Good." He flicked his nail against the wet tip of her breast and she shuddered. His eyes narrowed. "Are you close? Already?"
"Mason, I need..."
"Don't worry. I know."
A guy. A girl. A silver pole...
To the Max
© 2010 Annmarie McKenna
As owner of Jensen Securities, Max Jensen lives by one simple rule: Never take your eyes off the target. Once he spies lithe little Jordan Landon wrapped around a pole, though, his eyes aren't the problem. It's keeping his mind on his job.
Her job as a pole-dancing instructor might cause a few raised eyebrows, but it's what she does on a speeding motorcycle that kicks Max's protective instincts into overdrive. And puts the hurt on his determination to keep his hands to himself.
Years ago, Jordan left her wealthy, disapproving family behind to pursue her dream of opening her own dance studio. Approaching a hottie in a bar was easy in her college days, but now? If she wants him, she'll have to put her big-girl panties on and go for it.
Once alone, their inhibitions disappear faster than their clothes. But when someone breaks into Jordan's home, Max finds himself in an uncomfortable position---as the target of Jordan's suspicions about his real motives.
Warning: What better sexual partner than one who pole dances? Just think of the possibilities... Add in a stubbed toe, priceless Tiffany and meddling mothers and you're all Maxed out!
Enjoy the following excerpt for To the Max:
What on earth was she doing trying to pick up a stranger at a bar?
Sex, Jordan. Remember the sex you wanted to have to rehydrate your parched woman's parts? The ones currently shriveling up from lack of action?
With ultimate resolve, she lifted her face and stared at herself in the mirror.
"Jordan, you will go out there and seduce that walking sex God."
A snicker behind her made her jump.
"You go, girl. Hey, while you're handing out the confidence, mind sharing some with me? There's this really hot guy out there I'd do just about anything to go to bed with."
Jordan smiled and told herself not to punch the woman. Surely she wasn't referring to the same guy. There were lots of other men in the bar.
But only one who'd been built specifically for causing a woman to orgasm with a simple touch. Jordan was sure that would be the outcome if she ever got the nerves to get close enough to him.
Enough. She was here for sex, she was going to get some. Self-doubt was not going to dissuade her.
"Sure," she said to the woman washing her hands. "As long as we're not after the same one. I'm not into threesomes." And I really don't want to go to jail for breaking your neck. Tall, dark and drool-worthy is mine, mine and all mine.
The woman's laugh grated on Jordan's nerves, tempting her to strangle the bleached blonde's neck just to get her to tell her who she was lusting after.
"Oh, my God, he's like, so cute. Red hair..."
Jordan didn't hear another word over the breath she let out. Time to buck up and become a woman all over again. If luck was on her side tonight, the stud at the bar was going home with her.
Or she was going home with him.
She'd lived the last few years in anonymity, surely she could pick up one man and not be found out. He hadn't seemed to recognize her at least.
Jesus, she was doing it again. The urge to slap herself grew. Where was the set of cojones she'd used to move out of her parents' and live her own life away from all the crap money entailed? She straightened, flipped her hair over her shoulder and checked to make sure she didn't have anything green between her teeth. That'd be a mood killer for sure.
She was here to get her sex on.
"Good luck." Jordan shoved through the door and headed straight for the bar. If he wasn't still sitting there, she would cry.
"Go get him, Jordan," she heard from the friends she'd come with. It gave her courage. Hell yes she'd get him. She'd use his body as her pole and show him all kinds of new moves.
His closely shaved dark brown head hung over his beer and his shoulders were slumped. Damn. She'd thought he'd been interested. She hadn't mistaken the way his nostrils had flared when she'd started toward him earlier or the way his eyes had widened. There'd been a flash of lust, damn it. On both their parts.
Jordan was suddenly close enough to reach out and touch him. Mmm...he smelled so good. Like man and cologne and yum all rolled into one, and she smelled it even over all the combined alcohol and smoke odors of the bar.
It was do-or-die time. Jordan tapped him on the back. "Hello."
His head whipped back so fast she was amazed he didn't give himself whiplash or fly off the stool. Catching himself before that happened, he darted a glance between her and her friends before settling on her face.
His eyes were green. Pale green. Beautiful. Her panties went wet just looking into his gaze.
At least she knew she hadn't dried up quite yet.
"Hello." Oh man, the sound of his voice made her shiver. Deep and sensual. It curled around her to the point she swore she could feel his mouth moving on her throat.
"I'm Jordan." Did she stick out a hand to shake? Where the hell was her inner college chick?
"Max."
Max. Perfect. She wanted Max. Right here, right now. If only clicking her heels together and pronouncing, "There's no place like home, there's no place like home," would get her anywhere.
He seemed to contemplate something. It made her nervous. Picking up men used to be so easy. Of course those were the days of trying to attract the media attention just to piss her mother off. Right now, Max was going to give her a complex.
"You wanna dance, Jordan?" He said her name like he was trying it out on his tongue.
She wanted to shout, "Try my clit out with your tongue too, please."
She refrained. No use scaring the man off before she'd gotten out of tonight what she wanted.
He hopped off the barstool---or stood at any rate---and towered over her five-foot-six frame. Maximillian. Maximillian? Is that how she saw him? Appropriate because right this second she felt like she'd just won a million bucks. He had to be a good few inches beyond six feet, muscular too, as evidenced by the fit of his shirt beneath his leather jacket. She wanted to rip the shirt off and lick his abs, see if he tasted as good as he smelled.
Please God let him be this big across the board. She needed big. Needed to be filled to capacity plus some. Her clit actually ached at the thought of him between her legs.
She'd turned into a hooker. A pole-dancing, stranger-picking-up, begging-for-big hooker.
She's dead-set against him. He's dead certain he can change her mind...
Position Secured
© 2010 Olivia Brynn
Marienna Valdez has a cop allergy. Their cocky, superior attitudes never fail to turn her stomach. How fitting that her reward for enduring a perfectly sucky work week is a traffic ticket from one that's on the kind of overblown power trip she learned to hate when she was growing up surrounded by boys in blue.
But now she's finally home, where she prepares to take the edge off with a well-deserved self-love session. Just as she gets settled in with her favorite toys, though, what should come barreling through her bedroom door but...another cop!
SWAT team sniper Marcus Pearson doesn't need detective skills to figure out just what he's interrupted. If he can keep Marienna quiet long enough to resolve the tense situation under her bedroom window, he intends to put down his rifle and take aim at her aversion to the badge...
Warning: This title contains one sheet-wrapped, cop-and-damsel burrito with toys on the side. Extra batteries included.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Position Secured:
"Alpha confirm. Subject in custody." After a moment, he stood, one smooth movement unfolding his body. Mari yanked her hand away from her pussy, almost whimpering at the injustice. She gathered the opening of her robe in two handfuls. He removed the magazine from the rifle, then carefully took the single round from the chamber. His movements showed none of the stress she would expect to see. Each was practiced, smooth and deliberate, as if he trained a deadly weapon on people every day. Perhaps he did. He straightened and scanned the room before looking through the doorway to meet her eyes.
"Echo three to Alpha base. One witness to debrief. Echo three out."
He pulled the headset from his ear, and it dangled off his shoulder. Mari took her first good look at him facing her, and she had those damn visions from her fantasy stuck in her head.
But the man in her fantasy burned hot and wild, and this guy was cool as a slab of marble and showed just as much emotion. Maybe he was a robot. He was a cop after all. "I'm sorry I had to startle you, ma'am. I appreciate your assistance." His voice didn't fluctuate from the deep, even tone.
Mari nodded. "No one was hurt?"
"No. A struggle, but no shots fired." He jerked his chin toward the window. "Seems some pretty shady deals have been going on right outside your bedroom window. Probably while you were in here sleeping..." His gaze swept over the bed and fixed on her vibrator.
Heat flooded her face. Her heart, confused at the roller coaster of emotions, pounded painfully. She pressed her thighs together to quell the need flaring in her heated sex.
"You said you were in the middle of something?"
Great. He had a photographic memory. Mari blinked, bringing him back into focus. His smirk might have sent a lesser woman running for cover, but Mari saw the intrigue behind those blue eyes. She didn't stop to think that it might just be her hormones bouncing around like fireflies in a jar. She folded her arms across her chest, lifted her chin and raised an eyebrow.
"That's right. I'd like to get back to my..." she paused meaningfully, "something now, if you don't mind."
He walked toward her. Swaggered would be a better word. He paused at the foot of the bed and, without releasing her from his stare, he reached over and scooped Bob up off the pillows.
Holy hell. There was no way she misinterpreted that hungry look. The man almost drooled and bared his teeth like a cartoon wolf. Mari blinked again, just in case her imagination and libido were still salsa dancing in her brain.
Two more steps toward her and he lifted her vibrator to his nose and made a show of smelling the pink silicone. His eyes drifted half closed. She bit her lower lip to stifle the moan.
"I can't tell you how sorry I am for interrupting you." His voice dropped to an intimate pitch, and Mari released the breath she'd been holding. "If there's any way I can make it up to you..." He stopped once their clothes brushed. The back of her head hit the wall when she lifted her chin to meet his eyes. Heat from his body surrounded her. His musky scent wafted up to her nose, surrounding her. She sucked a deep breath, indulging in that male smell. "I took an oath to protect and...to serve." His breath fanned her face.
She watched his lips move, and licked hers. This wasn't really happening. This way-too-gorgeous man was not in her bedroom holding her favorite toy and standing close enough to taste. She should wake up from this fantasy before she embarrassed herself. The click and ensuing hum of the vibrator close to her ear was real, though. She met his eyes again. He nodded slowly and dragged Bob's tip along her jaw line.
"Let me." It could have been a question, but it sounded more like a statement, or maybe an order. "Tell me it's okay. Tell me you want this."
She tried to think. If this really was happening, she needed to think straight. The vibrator hummed a path down her neck. He deftly slipped it beneath the fabric of her robe and farther down her chest. She let her arms drop to her sides.
"You have to understand. I get called on an assignment like today and I can't think about anything but my target. I can't be distracted. I can't think about the woman who opened her door to me wearing a flimsy ass robe. I've got the lives of innocent people and my fellow officers to consider. I'm stressed out enough with that. I usually relieve myself afterward with a workout in the gym, followed by a solo in the shower, but I've never been presented with the likes of you when I'm feeling this."
"The likes of me?" Mari surprised herself with her ability to speak clearly. His words puffed against her lips, and Mari could even taste his breath. Coffee.
"A fucking sexy as hell woman like you," he continued, dragging her vibrating dildo around her breast. "Aroused. Naked..."
"I'm not..."
"Take this off and you will be." He used his free hand to peel her robe off one shoulder.
Mari shut her mouth with a click. She'd been about to say she wasn't a sexy woman, but she wasn't a stupid one, either. She didn't even shiver in protest when her robe slithered to the carpet to pool around her feet. Why should she? This was all a crazy dream that she'd awaken from any second now. She wasn't really standing naked in front of a cop in her hallway.
"Tell me it's okay," he repeated. "I can feel the heat coming off of you. I can even smell your arousal. Let me take care of it for you. Tell me it's okay."
But Mari couldn't say the words. She could barely wrap her mind around the fact that this was real, let alone say something. The vibrator teased the skin below her navel, but he wouldn't go farther.
"Touch me," he panted against her lips before she could answer. Her lids drifted closed in anticipation of a kiss that never came. "Please, touch me. Pull my shirt out. Let me feel your hands on me." He simply rested his mouth against hers while he spoke.
At that point she realized her arms hung limply at her sides. She laid both hands on his stomach. Just as she thought, he was in exquisite shape. His abs tightened beneath her fingers. She indulged in the first touch of his body. Hard male. A wall of muscle and man, wrapped in this thin T-shirt. She gripped it and slid the hem from his pants. He hissed when her hands met his bare skin.
"Fuck, yeah. Tell me. Tell me it's okay." He planted his elbow by her ear and leaned against her, caging her to the wall.
"It's okay," she whispered. "I want it. I want you."
"Goddamned beautiful..." He wasted no time in sliding the vibrator inside her. His moan blended with hers in a tuneless harmony. He didn't move it once the vibrator was firmly seated deep in her channel. "Don't come yet, baby. I need one thing from you first." He didn't continue until she lifted heavy lids to meet that electric blue stare. "Tell me your name."
Mari's legs almost gave out on her. Marc caught her and pressed his body against hers to hold her up against the hallway wall. She whimpered and tried to grind against the humming intrusion. He switched it off. The sudden silence drew another whine from her throat.
"Tell me."
Mari slid her tongue along his lips. She didn't want to talk. She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to quit fucking around and make her come. She moved her hands around to his back, reaching up to trace the indentation of his spine. She nipped his lower lip and squeezed her channel around the vibrator.
"Huh-uh." He turned his head enough to press his cheek against hers. "Tell me your name or I walk out right now."
He wouldn't dare. "Please...does it really matter?" She scraped her fingers back down and around to his abdomen, until she held the waistband of his pants and belt in a tight grip.
"Yes. It matters. What's your name, sweetheart? I want to shout it out when I come for you."
"Oh, my God. Marienna. Marienna Elena Valdez. But you can call me---" She gasped.
He pulled out the vibrator, flicked it on, then slid it back inside with a twist. "Marienna," he breathed, and then he kissed her.
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