Page 9 of I Dream of Danger (Ghost Ops #2)

She gave a great cry as her body convulsed, pulsing in time with her heartbeat and in one of those pulses Nick slid on top of her again and into her again, and just as the pulses were dying down, they started again, only more intense this time, on the razor’s edge of pain.

He was moving in and out of her slowly, in time with the beats of her body. She was wrapped around him, arms, legs, and heart.

When her body subsided, finally, her hands fell to her sides, palms up. Her legs loosened their hold on his hips and her knees fell apart. She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling, completely and utterly sated, thinking of absolutely nothing and feeling alive in every single cell of her body.

Nick placed his mouth close to her ear and whispered, “Uh-uh.”

She blinked. Uh-uh? No?

He bit her lobe and something sparkled again, right under her skin, like a dying engine fizzing to life for one last second, sparks flying.

“It doesn’t work like that.” His lips were caressing her jaw and she could feel him smile against her skin.

“It doesn’t?”

“Nope.” He settled on her more heavily, big hands smoothing down the backs of her thighs.

Then, surprisingly, he lifted them so her knees nearly touched her chest. “You don’t get to stop, not yet.

” With her legs so high, she was completely open to him.

He tightened his buttocks and slipped deeper inside her, and oh, God, the tingling and the heat…

Nick had been rocking inside her, short, gentle thrusts, but soon he was moving strongly, long, deep thrusts with the full power of his muscles behind them, so strong she was surprised he wasn’t hurting her, but he wasn’t.

Not in any way. His body took over hers, there was no other way to describe it.

She moved to his rhythm, to his beat, completely insensible to anything outside the bounds of her skin and his.

He’d laid his head next to hers, his mouth close to her ear and she could hear his breath soughing in and out, gasping, as if running a four-minute mile.

He was slamming into her now, making her bed creak, then making the headboard beat against the wall in a fast rhythm, faster rhythm, he was moving so hard and fast inside her it was a miracle she wasn’t catching fire down there from the friction and then, oh my God, she did catch fire, everything in her simply went up in flames.

It wasn’t like the previous orgasm, which had been pleasant.

Fun, even. This was earth shattering, some outside force taking over her body, as unstoppable as a freight train, as she convulsed, over and over again, fingers digging deeply into his heavy shoulder muscles because it felt as if clinging to him was the only way not to shatter into a thousand pieces.

With a shout, muffled by the pillow, Nick’s movements became frenetic, no longer those heavy measured thrusts, but out of control writhings inside her, as if he were hammering his way to her heart with his penis.

She felt him swell, and with another shout, he started coming. She’d never felt this before, had barely read about it before, but it was unmistakable. He was jetting semen into her until she was wet, they were both wet, to the groin.

Finally, with a groan, Nick collapsed onto her, and she realized that he hadn’t been putting all his weight on her. Now he was, and he was heavy as a horse. She could feel her ribs bending slightly with the weight of him and wheezed.

Nick was still breathing heavily but at the sound of her wheezing, he planted two large hands by the side of her head and prepared to lift himself off her.

No!

Elle grasped him tightly around his back and twined her legs around him, the body movements as clear as words. Don’t go.

With a groan, Nick subsided and she made sure she wheezed quietly.

Because she loved this. Everything about it. Nick’s immensely heavy weight grounding her after she’d felt as if she’d fly apart into a million pieces. They were plastered together all along their fronts because he’d sweated heavily and she supposed she had, too. It was hard to tell.

They smelled, mainly of Nick because she didn’t recognize her own scent.

An intense, pungent, earthy scent she’d never experienced before—human sex—but recognized instantly.

Another example of her body knowing things, instinctively, that she didn’t.

Her entire groin area was wet with what was causing that smell—his semen, her juices. Mixing together in a unique mix.

He was still hard inside her, which flummoxed her a little. He’d had an orgasm, hadn’t he? Surely he had. And men—what was the word the Merck Manual used? Detumesced, that was it. Surely after an orgasm a man detumesced, but there Nick was, still hot and hard and huge inside her.

Another of those life mysteries she wasn’t going to penetrate right at the moment. Certainly not while Nick was still penetrating her .

She snickered.

Nick stirred. “Finding this funny, are we?” She turned her head and saw him lazily smiling at her, sated and so sexy her heart turned over in her chest.

“Very. Or maybe not funny so much as…” She felt her eyes drift up and to the right in contemplation.

“As? This better be good.”

Her smile widened. “Interesting.”

Nick’s black eyebrows rose. “Interesting? That’s all you have to say?”

He was looking mock-ferocious and … and hot . When she used to have girlfriends, she’d hear them say that about a boy and didn’t really understand it, and now she did. Oh man, did she understand it!

Nick was the epitome of hot. And the epitome of cool.

Both, at the same time, hot prevailing right now.

Hot like a flame, a source of immense attraction and life.

His skin was hot under her palms, against her front, against the skin of her thighs.

And he was hot in that other sense, too.

So attractive you wanted to jump him. Tough, fully male, exuding pheromones by the ton.

No wonder women fell for him so hard.

A little bit of her joy dissipated as she remembered the many Dreams she’d had about him with other women.

How many women she’d seen him with. Fucking.

That was the operative word, of course. It had been clear that it was a physical release, because in her Dreams he never lingered.

He got up from the bed immediately after climaxing and she’d seen dozens of women, startled, legs still splayed from the sex, looking at the ceiling and wondering what had happened, while in another room Nick was already showering.

Of course, she had no idea if her Dreams, those special ones that were so intense they felt like life experiences, were real or if she were crazy. How could she know? Her life became so isolated there was no one to ask. No confidante except for her dementing father.

Nick was frowning now, running a rough thumb between her eyebrows. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it right this minute.”

Her face cleared. She’d forgotten how well Nick knew her. It had been so wonderful, being known by him. Understood and, well, loved.

No one had known her like that since he left, no one. It had been like being encased in a clear bubble. She was in the bubble and the entire world was outside it.

Maybe later she could tell Nick about her Dreams. But then of course she’d have to say that she’d seen him countless times with other women, and that was creepy.

She plastered a smile on her face. “Sorry, just thinking.”

“Well, stop that. You think too much. You always thought too much.”

She took in his face. When he smiled, the boy in him, the boy she’d known, came through. But when he was frowning, he was all man. Wildly attractive.

Down below, her vagina contracted around him and his eyes widened.

“Distract me,” she whispered.

“Oh yeah.” The voice was a low mutter and he bent to her. Just as his mouth touched hers, the downstairs bell sounded. Loud. Three ascending notes like the peal of church bells.

Startled, Elle looked to the side, to her alarm clock. Seven. Something was supposed to happen at seven, wasn’t it? Her head was sluggish, no connections possible. It was seven, and at seven…

“The food.” Nick groaned and rolled out of bed. “I’ll get it.”

In an amazingly short time, he was dressed, had combed his hair with his hand and looked entirely normal, except for a slight flush.

And well, the scent of sex that still clung to him.

But then Elle had an extraordinarily strong sense of smell.

Not everyone would pick up the smell that seemed so strong to her.

“Okay,” she said, but he was already walking out the door.

He had to do this. There was no way she could get dressed and walk down the stairs in less than half an hour. Her legs felt like mush. She was uncoordinated, slightly punch-drunk.

And even if the delivery boy could wait half an hour for her to get her act together, she would scream I just had wild monkey sex from every pore of her body. She knew of no way she could hide it. Not to mention she’d be helplessly grinning like a loon.

So let him take care of it.

Male voices downstairs, the door closing. The clatter of kitchen sounds.

Elle lay there listening, every muscle lax.

Someone else was doing something in her house.

Someone else was doing things. Company and warm food were waiting for her downstairs and it seemed like such a miracle, something so heartening after long years of silence in her home, and feeling alone every second of every day.

A tear welled and slipped down her cheek, and she dashed it away. This wasn’t a moment for tears, it was a moment for smiles.

A deep breath, and she threw back the covers, heading for the bathroom on shaky legs, completely, utterly happy.