Linda Howard - Prey

He lifted his head a little. Blue eyes glinted down at her, heavy-lidded with sexual intent. “Yet,” he replied, and she let the word stand unchallenged.

He gripped her hip, his fingers tightening, then relaxing and gently massaging before sliding up her side, under her shirt. Almost before she knew it his big warm hand was closing over her breast, his palm rough against the exquisite sensitivity of her nipple. She felt a moment of anxiety because her boobs were so small, but then his eyelids lowered even more and he made that rough humming sound again, the one she was coming to associate with pure pleasure, and with one swift motion he jerked her shirt up and dipped his head to her breasts.

There was a dizzying split-second of combined surprise and anticipation, then his mouth, hot and wet, closed over her nipple. His tongue swirled around the nub, lightly, gently, making it harden and extend. Pleasure spread through her, pleasure that made her abdominal muscles contract, made her skin feel electrified. With his lips and tongue and teeth he played with her, moving his attention to the other nipple while his fingers gently kneaded. Then he pressed her nipple against the roof of his mouth and sucked hard; she clutched at him, bucking under the lash of excitement and desire. He bore down on her, controlling her with his weight; she could feel his tongue rhythmically working the extended bud, the suction of his mouth pulling at her and sparking an echo of the same sensation between her legs, deep inside her.

He lifted his head, the expression in his eyes fierce, hot, his mouth set in a sensually ruthless line. “More?” he asked hoarsely.

Instantly she realized what he was doing. Making love was like a snowball rolling downhill, gaining speed and momentum and inevitability. If he hadn’t stopped right now, this very minute, likely they wouldn’t. He could have continued, seducing her with pleasure, and made love to her without a single word of protest from her, which embarrassed her considering how firmly she’d told him she wasn’t going to have sex. But he wasn’t going to allow her to get cold feet afterward and claim he’d rushed her, not given her time to think. He was forcing her to be with him every step of the way. She didn’t know whether to be pissed that he thought she might be such a coward as that, or grateful that he was giving her this chance to slow things down.

Both .

She took a deep breath, only a little comforted that his own breathing was harder and faster than usual. “No, I think this is as far as we should go,” she said. “Thank you. Asshole.”

He levered himself to the side but remained propped on his elbow, leaning over her. His expression took on a slight smugness. “Feeling a little tempted, huh?” he asked, lightly tracing her lips with one fingertip.

Denying it would only make her a liar. “Enjoying kissing you doesn’t make the issues go away.”

“Exactly what issues are we talking about? Everything looks pretty cut and dried to me. You either like me or you don’t-on the evidence, I’d say you do-and you either want to stay here or you don’t.”

“You’d be my boss,” she pointed out.

“I don’t think that would stop you from telling me off if you thought I needed it.” His tone was wry. Then his gaze sharpened. “Are you saying you think I’d use that to pressure you into sleeping with me?”

“No, I’m thinking more what it would say about me if I slept with the boss.” She scowled up at him. “And that would mean I’d decided to sleep with you, which I haven’t, so you can see why I need to think this out.”

He fell over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “God save me from a woman’s way of thinking. What the hell kind of logic is that? One has nothing to do with the other.”

“Maybe not to you, but let’s face it, you’re plankton, and I’m a higher life form. Details matter to me.”

His lips quirked and, without turning his head, he cut his gaze to her. Sounding a tad disgruntled, he said, “Plankton?”

“Maybe algae.”

“How about a fucking amoeba?”

“Amoebas don’t fuck, they just divide.”

“Hummph.” He made a growly noise and lay there looking annoyed. “That would be me, then, because evidently I don’t fuck, either.”

Angie turned onto her side facing him, smiling. Lying here like this with him was way, way too intimate, but in a completely unexpected way just talking with him was even more enticing. He was funny and sexy, grumpy and profane, and she didn’t think she’d ever get bored listening to him. “Not right now, anyway. So, ruling out getting naked, what are we going to do all day? Did you bring any books with you? Cards? You weren’t planning to sit up here for a week with nothing to entertain yourself, I hope?”

“I have books and cards, and my iPod. You just said I was algae. What makes you think you’re going to get your hands on either one?”

“Your sense of fair play.”

“You’re way fucking off-base there. I play to win.”

“Wouldn’t that be ‘fay wucking’?”

“Never heard of her.”

He made her beg for the books, but he wasn’t serious so she didn’t mind. Then he pulled the books from his saddlebags and she could have hit him, because if she’d known what they were beforehand she definitely wouldn’t have begged. One was an extremely dry and technical book on custom-loading your own shells, and the other was a geological study of the earth’s tectonic plates. She gave him an appalled look. “Couldn’t you at least have some popular fiction?”

“I do, but it’s at home. I figure the only way I’ll read this shit is if I don’t have anything else to read, so this was the perfect time.”

She laughed and put the books aside, picked up the deck of cards. “What do you want to play? Blackjack, Texas Hold ’em, rummy?”

“Not rummy. That’s a sissy-ass game.”

“Ah ha. That means you’re afraid I’ll kick your ass at rummy, so you don’t want to play it.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You think?” He moved so he was sitting cross-legged on the mattress, facing her. “Game on, Powell.”

She should have remembered his years in the military. He played rummy as ruthlessly as if it were war, but she was pretty good herself, if she did say so, and once she realized how good he was she buckled down, concentrated, and won two out of four. He wanted to go for a tie-breaker, of course, but she refused. “What good is that? If you beat me, you’ll crow about it, and that would lower my opinion of you. If I win, you’ll pout, and that’ll lower my opinion of you. Trust me, you won’t come out looking good no matter what happens.”

He chuckled as he shuffled and dealt. “You hate losing, don’t you?”

“Like poison.”

“Good to know. So when we fight, I should let you win at least half the time?”

“ Let me win?” she posed delicately, her tone light but her eyebrows drawing to a point over her nose.

“You’ll never know, will you?” He gave her that smug smirk and began dealing out the cards. “Texas Hold ’em. What’s the bet?”

“Bet? We’re playing for funsies.”

He stopped dealing. “I don’t play for fucking funsies. Cards are serious.”

“You just played rummy for fun.”

“No, I played rummy to prove to you I could beat you at it.”

“Is everything a contest to you?”

“I’m a man. Even pissing is a contest.”

The easy bantering continued over several games of Texas Hold ’em-he was definitely better at that game than she was-then they moved on to blackjack. They got tired of playing cards after a while, and with a sigh of resignation she picked up the book on loading her own ammunition and began reading; at least that was some information she might one day be able to use, while she was certain she’d never be able to influence tectonic plates one way or the other. Dare didn’t fuss about her choice, just picked up the other book, moved the lantern so they both had sufficient light, and settled back with his legs stretched out.