The Harder They Fall Read online

  Again he moaned, knowing he’d lost before she’d even started. That she’d pushed him to the limit and drawn him in. Never mind his good intentions of holding back so she wouldn’t get hurt, it was too late to save her feelings, and it sure as hell was too late to save his. The temptation of what she offered—love and affection—was simply too much to refuse.

  Knowing it was wrong, that he shouldn’t, he drew her even closer, slowly rolling his hips to hers.

  “Finally,” she breathed against his mouth. “Hunter ... tell me.”

  For a minute fear flashed through him, rendering him mute. Scared, he was so damned scared. Of her. Of himself. Of this. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured even as he held her close with his one hand. “Please, don’t make me hurt you.”

  “You won’t,” she whispered. “You can’t. Love me, Hunter.”

  Her heart broke a little at the anguish on his beautiful face, at the mixture of desire and nervousness she saw in his eyes, and she almost gave in and offered to release him, but this was too important. If she failed, everything between them was over, but if she won ... She eased down into the circle of his arm, fitting herself to him, then lifted her gaze to his.

  “I love you,” she whispered, raising a bent knee over his thigh, brushing lightly over his lap.

  “It’s not love,” he maintained through gritted teeth. “It’s physical need. I want you, Trisha, there’s no doubt.” His hips surged upward in proof. “I’m insane with the wanting. I’ve wanted you ever since I saw you that first day in black vinyl and that damn leopard-spotted top with plaster dust all over it.” His eyes glazed with the memory. “My body is desperate to be sheathed inside you, but it’s lust, Trisha. Just lust. If you still want me, then, God, please, take me now before you kill me. But nothing will change after we go up in flames in each other’s arms. It’ll still be just lust.”

  Liquid heat shimmered up her spine, making her weak. “Is that what we’ll do?” she asked breathlessly. “Go up in flames?”

  “Oh, yeah. And more.”

  “Show me,” she begged softly, pressing close. “Show me.”

  “But—”

  “This is happening because of me, Hunter. I won’t regret this, I promise. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Do you?” he wondered out loud, his voice rough with emotion. “Well, Lord help us both, because I sure don’t.” Gently, he nudged her up a little so he could kiss her, and kiss her he did, long and slow and deep. It went on, erotic, tender, warm, and with just that kiss, he became the seducer, and she the seduced.

  His hand moved slowly over her, easy and light, but she didn’t want gentleness, not now. Irrational as it was, she wanted heat, speed, consuming passion. She wanted to erase the fear of his leaving her, which was silly, since he still lay cuffed to the bed. He was going nowhere. It didn’t matter, the urgency couldn’t be denied. With awkward fingers, she reared up and yanked off her top, tossing it behind her to the floor.

  She lowered her hands to explore his warm, hard chest. He reached for her, and again encountered the barrier of the cuffs. With a muttered oath, he arched his hips against her. “Let me go,” he demanded. “I want to touch you.”

  “Not yet.” Hardly able to breathe, she straddled him, tore frantically at the fastening of his trousers. “First this,” she said as his free hand lifted up to cup a breast, his long, sure fingers brushing over the tip.

  With him touching her like that, her fingers, still struggling to undress him, stumbled, and refused to function.

  He had to help her, and between his one hand and her badly shaking ones, she finally managed to free him and slide his pants off. Standing, she stripped off the rest of her clothes, vibrantly aware of his watching her every movement.

  “First I show you how much more than lust this is.”

  She moved close again, greedily touching his shoulders, his chest, down his tensed belly, her hair sweeping in her fingers’ path as she bent low to her task, dabbling tiny, nipping kisses as she went.

  He murmured her name on a ragged breath.

  “I love you,” she said, her heart breaking a little over the strained torment on his handsome face. “Let yourself love me back, Hunter.”

  “No,” he whispered roughly, shaking his head back and forth. “Not love—God!” He let out on an explosive sigh and bucked when her lips slid over his belly to a lean hip. “Definitely n-not love,” he managed tightly, arching his back with a strangled sound when she kissed her way across the top of his thigh. “Just ... lust,” he gasped.

  “No.” She continued her exquisite torturing of his damp, sleek skin with her mouth.

  With his limited mobility, he caressed her breasts, molded their shape, alternately worshiping and teasing until her hips rocked against the bedding. He had no idea how much more of this he could stand. Her body seemed to be made for him, the creamy texture, the incredible shape, the sweet taste ... he’d never wanted anyone so much. The force of his need scared the hell out of him, but what terrified him even more was the thought of stopping.

  Yet stop he must, before he caved in completely. He was only a breath away from begging. “Lust,” he whispered one more time, but she just shook her head and continued her trek over his body with her mouth. He was losing it, completely losing it. Her wild hair caressed his chest, his belly, his thighs, and his every muscle tensed. “Trisha,” he whispered desperately, his willpower starting to break.

  Gripping her head, he started to pull her up, desperate to taste her again, to kiss that full, sexy mouth, but she resisted, dragging her lips down his taut thighs. Then back up again, pausing at their apex. He felt her warm breath on him and he knew he’d die if she left him now.

  “Oh, please,” he groaned, his fingers entwining in her hair.

  Her mouth, hot and wet, had him writhing against the constraint of the handcuffs. He’d never felt like this, never. Torment. Exhilaration. Control was out of the question. Tugging her up, he looked deep into her eyes, dizzy with arousal and confusion. “God, Trisha, what are you doing to me?”

  Her smile was watery, and filled with such heart-wrenching love and warmth, his own eyes stung. “I’m making love to you,” she whispered. “Do you like it?”

  “No,” he lied, his voice as harsh as his breathing. Closing his eyes so he couldn’t see her delectable body didn’t help. He could still feel her. “Uncuff me.”

  “I love you,” she whispered again. “I’ll never stop, you know. You can trust me.”

  “No.”

  “Then I’ll just have to keep telling you,” she said gently. “And showing you.” Forcing the issue, she rose up and sank onto him with tantalizing slowness, taking him into her, one glorious inch at a time. “And showing, and showing...”

  He moaned, grabbed her hip with his hand, but instead of pushing her away, he drove into her again, hard and deep.

  Her cry of triumph washed over him. “I love you,” she gasped, gripping his shoulders. “So much.”

  “Just don’t stop,” he entreated, then moaned low in his throat when she rocked her hips. His fingers touched her intimately, desperate to bring her to the same pitch of arousal he was at. Almost immediately her muscles clenched around him and she cried out, lost in her release. It was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen, he thought, dazed, staring up at her. He’d never experienced anything like this. Blood pounded through his body, claimed his senses.

  Her fingers dug into his chest as she braced herself on shaking arms and looked down at him, eyes glazed. “Your turn,” she whispered.

  No, he tried to say. No. “Yes,” he said thickly, plunging into her once, twice, a third time. And despite his intentions, his body rejoiced. His emotions shattered. His heart opened, his wounded soul stirred, and as he burst into oblivion he heard himself call out her name, heard her own helpless response as she shuddered and came again.

  When he could open his eyes, he realized Trisha lay collapsed in a damp heap on top of him, trembling.