The Darkest Touch dh-3 Page 11

  His face was tight with strain as he loomed over her. He spread her arms out to her sides and stared down at her.

  “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Be certain.”

  Was he joking? His cock rested hot and heavy on her thigh, sweat beaded between her breasts, she was panting like a damn dog in heat because she wanted this so badly-and he was asking her if she was sure? “Dammit, Ryder. I’m not sixteen.”

  “No, you sure as hell aren’t.” He leaned over her, covering her body with his.

  Oh, the contact of skin to skin was just what she needed. To feel him pressed full on against her was everything she’d wanted. There was so much muscle on him, and she felt every inch of it against her. She was so slight and he was massive, overshadowing her slight frame.

  Instead of intimidating her, she thrilled to his possession, the way he buried his face in her neck and seemed to linger there, just breathing her in.

  She felt a sense of urgency. He didn’t, taking his time to lick along the pulse point of her neck. Oh, did that ever drive her nuts. She tilted her head to the side to give him free access, her blood rushing where his lips met her skin.

  That wasn’t the only place blood was rushing. With every lick of his tongue along her neck, she tingled between her legs. Mercy, that was hot. And it made her itchy to feel something else between her legs. Something hard. Something he withheld from her.

  “Ryder, come on.” Hadn’t they toyed long enough?

  He lifted his head and smiled down at her. “Relax, darlin’, we’re just getting started.”

  No, no, no. She didn’t want foreplay now. She wanted sex. Him inside her, thrusting hard. Damn him. She struggled, deciding to take over.

  But clearly Ryder wasn’t having any part of letting her take the lead, because when she tried to lift, he held firm to her wrists.

  “Uh-uh.” Instead, he dipped down and licked her nipple.

  “Oh, God,” she whispered, both hating and loving the wet heat of his mouth. Too much, not enough, she wanted more of this. She moaned, bit down on her lip to silence herself, and fumed that she couldn’t break away from his tight hold on her. His body had her pinned from the waist down, and his hands had a viselike grip on her arms. She was going nowhere until he decided otherwise.

  And he was determined to torture her by paying lavish attention to her breasts, licking them, sucking them, even nibbling. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that would eliminate the sensations shooting south and threatening to make her insane.

  It wasn’t working. She arched her back and drove her breasts against his oh-so-eager mouth, absolutely crazy over what he was doing to her. She hated him. She loved what he was doing to her. She was pulsing everywhere.

  So much for her taking the upper hand. She was unmolded clay, soft and unformed. And Ryder was the master sculptor. She even whimpered, God help her, then clamped her lips together, realizing that would only encourage him further.

  “You need to relax, Angie.”

  She opened her eyes and lifted her head, realizing he was staring up at her from his position at her breasts.

  “I am relaxed.”

  “No, you’re not,” he said with a smart-ass grin. “What’s wrong? Used to being on top?”

  Damn, the man was irritating. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

  “Too bad.” He dragged her wrists with him as he crawled down her body, kissing her belly button along the way. Every single touch of his lips to her skin was a blasted heat furnace. Despite her discomfort at his determination to engage in some serious foreplay when all she wanted was fucking, she couldn’t help but stare down at him when he kissed her inner thigh.

  “I know why you’re wound so tight,” he said, his gaze meeting hers as he applied a torturous, long, slow lick to the spot where her thigh joined her sex. “You need to come.”

  He had no idea how much. But not this way. Not in the way that left her so out of control. Didn’t he realize she never let men take over like this? Didn’t he unders-

  Her thought process was lost when his mouth covered her sex. Wet and hot were the only words that came to mind as an explosion rocketed her. She melted against him as she released over and over again, almost embarrassingly, but couldn’t stop the waves of climax that took over and wouldn’t stop. It had been so long and she was so primed, she hadn’t known she was so ready to fly right over the top. And he was a damned expert at knowing just where her trigger points were. How could he do this to her? How could he know her so well?

  He let go of her wrists and climbed up her body, pressing his lips to hers, devouring her mouth in a long, drugging kiss that soon had her raging hot again.

  She dragged her fingers through his hair, tugging it with an angry fierceness that had more to do with her exasperation at his prowess over her body than any passion she might feel.

  And he knew it, too, because he half growled, half laughed against her lips, as if he knew exactly why she was so mad.

  Damn man. He might have given her a Fourth of July fireworks orgasm once, but she wasn’t going to allow him to do that to her again.

  He nudged her legs farther apart with his knee and pushed inside her, scooping one hand under her butt to lift her against him.

  A tight fit, her body pulsed around him in appreciation, once again betraying her as it began to contract when he slid in and out with such a perfect rhythm it brought tears to her eyes.

  She sighed, surrendered the fight, and gave up on her frustration, instead enjoying the supreme pleasure this amazing man gave her. She relaxed and moved into his embrace, kissing him back with full abandon and no sense of anger, throwing her whole body and mind into the experience. He rolled them to the side and lifted her leg so he could thrust deeper, rocking against her slow and easy.

  In this position they were face-to-face, eye to eye, and it was so unbearably intimate. She caressed his beardstubbled cheek, rubbed his bottom lip with her fingertip until he took it in his mouth and sucked on it. The sensation made her clench around him and he stilled.

  “Damn” was all he said, then all pretense of gentle movements was finished. He gripped her buttocks in a tight hold and began to pump furiously inside her.

  She loved this wild side of him and held on, going with him on such an intense ride that when she flew to climax this time, she wasn’t at all surprised, nor annoyed. And he went with her, groaning and taking her mouth with a hungry kiss that left them both panting in its wake.

  Satiated and exhausted, she laid her head against his chest while he rubbed her back, and it wasn’t long before she felt her eyelids grow heavy. With Ryder still inside her, she smiled, not able to recall when she’d been more content. Or when she’d felt more protected and cared for.

  She let her eyes close and drifted off to sleep.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Dalton couldn’t help but grin at Isabelle. She was so happy after today’s find one would think she had just raised the Titanic, when all she’d discovered was a broken piece of stone pottery. To her, though, it was one hell of a treasure.

  They’d spent the better part of the afternoon on this dive, and the pottery was all they’d manage to bring up.

  At least she was easy to please. She stood on the deck grinning from ear to ear as she examined the piece from all sides.

  They’d climbed back aboard the yacht to shower and change. Dimitri had dinner and drinks ready for them on deck. Isabelle set the pottery on the table as they ate.

  “So, have you found Atlantis?” he asked as they finished up dinner.

  She gazed at the pottery, then at Dalton, her eyes bright with enthusiasm. “I don’t know. I’ll have to have it authenticated, and then there’ll be the disbelievers of course, but I think we’re close.” She didn’t even try to hold back her grin. Her cheeks were flushed as she breathed in deeply and exhaled.

  “It seems such a small piece. Not too much to get excited about.”
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  She arched a brow. “Are you trying to burst my bubble?”

  “Maybe just an attempt to keep you grounded. I don’t want you disappointed.”

  “Awww, does that mean you care?”

  He laughed. “I’m merely protecting my investment.”

  She leaned back in the chair and raised her glass. “Which investment, Dalton? Me or the dive?”

  “You, of course. You’re the biggest asset on this expedition. You’re the specialist. Without you, all of this fails.”

  She stared, blinked, her lips parting as if she was surprised by his words. “Thank you. I wasn’t fishing for compliments, but that was nice. I don’t often get to feel special.”

  He leaned forward, grasped a tendril of her hair. “You should be made to feel special all the time. I’m surprised you aren’t often showered with praise and attention.”

  That garnered a snort.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing.” She pulled away from him and stared down at her goblet.

  “You don’t think you’re worthy of having attention lavished on you?”

  “Let’s not go there.”

  Was she playing a game, or did she have issues? He wanted to press this. “Oh, let’s do go there. I think you’re beautiful, Isabelle. And a skilled archaeologist. Driven and a hard worker.”

  Her gaze lifted, her eyes liquid pools of emerald. “Now you’re making me blush. And I never blush. Stop it.”

  He liked the heightened color in her cheeks. It brought out a sense of inexperience in her he found incredibly appealing. He’d like to think he was a pretty good judge of people, knew when they were playing him and when there were honest emotions involved. She was having a hard time taking this praise, almost as if she didn’t believe it of herself. This person across from him exuded warmth and innocence. And yet at other times she was supremely confident, driven, to the point of being cold and ruthless.

  There really were two sides to Isabelle Deveraux.

  “Maybe that’s why you work so hard to succeed.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “A lot of people look for approval in success.”

  Her brows tilted in a slight frown. “Are you trying to psychoanalyze me now?”

  He offered a slight laugh. “No. Believe me, I’d be no good at that. But I do enjoy trying to figure people out, what makes them do the things they do.”

  “I wouldn’t even make an attempt to do that with me.”

  “See? Now you’re being mysterious. And that intrigues me.”

  The breeze blew tendrils of her hair across her cheek. She brushed them behind her ear. “There’s no mystery about me. I gave you my bio, my background. You know everything.”

  He’d barely scratched the surface. And he found he wanted to know more. Much more than what this assignment called for. Isabelle was definitely a mystery. Beyond what she showed him on the surface was a pain that she couldn’t quite hide. It lingered just underneath her eyes, surfacing now and then.

  She wasn’t as good at playing this game as she thought she was. And Dalton was a master at disguise.

  He was going to enjoy putting together the pieces of this puzzle.

  “You’re staring.”

  He blinked. “Was I?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “It depends on the reason.”

  “I was staring because the moonlight makes your hair shine like spun gold, because your eyes light up when you talk, and because that dress molds to you like a second skin. I can’t seem to help but stare.”

  She inhaled, the swell of her breasts more pronounced as she did.

  Dalton waved his hand and Dimitri reached under the bar and turned on the stereo. Music filled the deck and Isabelle tilted her head back and laughed.

  Under the lights, her hair glistened. She’d left it down, and it spilled over her breasts. Tonight she wore a well-fitting sundress, low-cut and revealing a lot of cleavage.

  Dalton tried to concentrate on her face, but his gaze kept dipping down. After too many drinks and not enough food today, he was in trouble, and his libido wanted to take over. And Isabelle wasn’t making him think like a Boy Scout.

  He was no angel, after all.

  Yeah, he was definitely no angel. And the more time he spent with Isabelle, the more his thoughts wandered to less-than-angelic areas. The woman was sinfully seductive and compelling to his dark side. And God knew he had a dark side.

  The upbeat rock song ended and a slow, seductive one started up.

  “Ah, now this is the kind of music I’m in the mood for,” Isabelle said, pushing back her chair to stand. She looked down at him with a seductive stare. “Let’s dance.”

  Oh, shit. He was supposed to play the part of suave, debonair playboy millionaire. He supposed turning tail and hiding in his room wouldn’t cut it. He’d turned her down last night. He couldn’t do it again.

  He didn’t want to do it again. A man only had so much restraint.

  Dalton had been restrained for too long. As long as he’d been with the Realm of Light, he’d toed the line, done everything right, never once walked on the wild side. He’d never once touched a woman in all that time.

  Too long. Much too long. So why now, and why with Isabelle?

  He gave up trying to figure it out.

  Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.

  Story of his life, wasn’t it?

  He stood and moved out onto the deck, holding his palm out. When she laid her hand in his, he felt the slight electrical current sizzle through his veins and knew he was doomed.

  The bad part was, he didn’t think he cared. This was his assignment, after all-to get close to Isabelle so he could figure her out and learn her secrets. It was a job, his duty, and nothing more. As long as he remembered that, didn’t let emotion into the picture, he’d be fine.

  He pulled her against him, her breasts pillowed against his chest.

  Get close to Isabelle, Lou had said. Well, he was close to her now, wasn’t he?

  She laid her head against his chest and he moved her around the deck, giving a slight nod to Dimitri, who dimmed the deck lights and made himself scarce. Thank God for the discretion of Realm staffers like Dimitri and the rest of the crew. They asked no questions and followed orders well. The rest of the hands had gone below for the night, exhausted from spending a day in the sun and water.

  Now it was just the two of them, the slow, rhythmic music.

  And his own wayward thoughts.

  He should be thinking about the mission. Instead, he thought about how good she felt in his arms, how soft her skin was, how her hair smelled like strawberries and whether she noticed-or cared-that his dick was hardening against her hip.

  He also thought about how tired he was of walking down the road of goodness and light.

  “Are you a bad girl, Isabelle?” he asked, voicing his innermost thoughts. Then again, maybe it was wishful thinking.

  She tilted her head back and he fought for breath. Silvery light cascaded over her features. Her eyes lit up with swirling, mysterious colors, her full lips quirked with a smile that could only be a product of the devil himself.

  “Do you want me to be?”

  He was drowning in her, and he didn’t think he wanted to be saved.

  “Maybe I do.”

  Her tongue snaked out and licked along her bottom lip.

  Invitation came knocking, and he answered, dipping down for a taste of the forbidden fruit. He cupped the back of her neck and brushed her lips, savoring the taste of wine and something more exotic. He parted them, pressed deeper, slid his tongue inside, and his world spun. She moaned and he crushed her against him, deepening the kiss.

  Isabelle’s arms wound upward, sliding into his hair, her nails digging into his scalp. The pain felt good. It made him feel alive, as if he’d spent years wandering in a fog and she’d just awakened him to wonders he’d only dreamed about.

  He splayed his
arms across her back and down, memorizing every curve, grasping her buttocks in his hands and squeezing her flesh, drawing her against the rockhard, throbbing part of him.