Leslie Parrish - Pitch Black

The neighborhood was familiar-her mother’s. But all the houses were shuttered and unwelcoming, no friendly faces from her childhood in sight. Suddenly she reached a cliff, where there had never been a cliff, and her terror propelled her off it until she flew. Swimming through the air, which was so much heavier than water, she couldn’t go far. Not nearly far enough.

A scrape of claws across her ankle; she began to fall.

“No!”

Sam awoke from the nightmare, shooting straight up in the bed. She choked in a few deep, gasping breaths as her heart sprinted. The room was dark, the only light the glow of red from the bedside clock.

The color confused her. Red, not green?

Then she remembered. The hotel.

And she remembered something else. Her nightmare was merely a reflection of what her life had become. A monster really was out there in the night, stalking her.

“Sam?” The door pushed open a few inches. “Are you okay?”

“Not as okay as I’d like to be.”

“Bad dream?”

“Yeah.”

“You weren’t supposed to have those tonight.”

“Tell my subconscious that.” Sam threw the covers back and got out of the bed, wanting one of the bottles of water in the small fridge. “I need a drink.”

Her eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the darkness of the room, and she put a hand out, reaching for the edge of the door but connecting with firm male skin instead.

She froze, realizing her hand had landed on his broad chest. His broad, bare chest, judging by the ripples of muscle and the crisp hair brushing her fingers.

“Why don’t you let me turn on a light?” he said, sounding as though he was pulling the words out of a constricted throat.

“Please don’t.” She stepped closer, until they stood only inches apart. Warmth emanated from the man, such a contrast to her coldness. She had on a flimsy, silky negligee that she’d worn perhaps twice in her life-his friend Mulrooney’s idea of appropriate nightwear for a woman in a safe house-and had been freezing for the past two nights.

Suddenly, though, she found herself not minding her attire as much. Her eyes had begun to adjust, and there was no way she could miss the outright hunger in Alec’s as he visually consumed her, his attention locked on the lacy edge of the gown that barely covered her breasts.

He made a sound like a low growl and muttered, “You should go back to bed.”

Staring up at him, she replied, “I intend to.” Then she further stated her intentions by pressing the entire length of her body against his. Heat and silk, his glittering eyes, and the strength of the man, all combined to bring shivers of delight and full-on desire. Lifting her other hand, she made a thorough study of his broad chest, tangling her fingers in that spiky hair, tracing them across thick ropes of muscle.

His body was every inch hard. Utterly male.

Yet, still vulnerable. When her hand brushed over a small, rigid lump just below his left clavicle, Sam immediately knew what it was. She leaned close, covering the scar with her lips, kissing it and mentally cursing the woman who had caused it.

“Sam…”

“Shh.”

In the darkness, she kissed along his chest and up to his shoulder, finding another of those damned scars and treating it tenderly. Moving on, she tasted and nibbled her way up the side of his strong neck until she felt the rasp of his rough cheek against her own. “I’m so sorry you went through such pain, Alec,” she whispered as she flicked her tongue across his earlobe.

He said nothing, keeping still, his jaw flexing, his neck muscles strained. He seemed to be holding on to his control with both fists.

That was admirable. But frankly, she’d had enough of it. Something had happened to her tonight. She had already realized she was ready to stop hibernating, to begin forward motion again. Now she didn’t just want to step forward; she wanted to race into her future. Thinking she had lost someone she loved hammered home the need to go full throttle, to grasp happiness with greed and abandon. What an utter waste, throwing away a year on sadness, anger, and regret. She had completely cut herself off from human contact, emotional and physical.

Right now, she craved both.

“Alec, I know the timing’s not right. And if you really want me to back off, I will. But to tell you the truth, after what happened tonight, I’ve decided it’s time to start reaching out and taking life instead of letting it pass me by. To grab each minute and make it as spectacular as I can.” She pressed a warm, openmouthed kiss on the pulse point just below his ear. “I think we could be pretty spectacular.”

With a groan of surrender, he put his hands on her hips and tugged her harder against him until she felt the powerful erection pressing into her belly. Her mouth fell open on a soft, helpless sigh as her hips arched forward; she needed that heat, that strength.

Burying his face in her hair, breathing her in, he admitted, “I know we could be.”

There was no triumph at having seduced him, or having appealed to his innate sexual nature. They were both winners in this, both doing what they’d wanted to do since they’d met, and Sam could muster up no regret about it.

Especially not when his hands moved, those strong fingers caressing her hips before sliding around to curve over her backside. He kissed her earlobe, as she had his, pressed that warm mouth on her own neck, bending her back so he could sample the hollow of her throat.

“Alec,” she groaned, “I need-”

He cut her off by taking her mouth. His lips opened on hers, his tongue hot and demanding. Sam met the warm thrusts, glad for his strong grip on her as all her strength seemed to depart. She became one quivering mass of desire, existing for nothing more than this man’s hands and his mouth. And, oh, God, the rest of him.

He didn’t even stop kissing her as he lifted her by the hips. Her legs parted instinctively.

She wrapped them around his lean hips, grinding against him as he carried her to the bed and tossed her onto it, immediately following her down.

Deep kiss followed deep kiss, his touch inflaming her wherever it went. He slid her gown up and off, tossing it away, then tasted his way down the entire front of her body. At the rasp of his tongue against her nipple, she arched up for more.

Twining her fingers in his hair, she cried, “Yes,” as he gave her what she wanted, sucking fast and hard. But only for a few seconds. Then he tortured her, moved away. Built the tension all over again before finally giving in to her demands and suckling again.

“You taste so good, Sam,” he murmured as he continued a downward journey, devouring her body, savoring her as if she were a banquet laid out before him.

She hissed when his lips reached the hollow just above her pelvic bone, and cried out when they moved even lower. He held her hips, keeping her in place when she wanted to roll and thrash and demand the chance to taste him as he was tasting her. Not that she really minded. God, no. When he found her pulsing center and began caressing it with his tongue, her cries were definitely not ones of complaint.

She shook and thrust as an orgasm washed over her, the first she’d had with another person in a very long time. Alec pulled back to watch her, his eyes glittering with satisfaction as he beheld her helpless cries of pleasure.

Sam savored it, but not for long. She wanted more. So much more. Sitting up, she pushed Alec onto his back and reached for his pants. “You’re a little overdressed, don’t you think?”

Easily remedied. He let her tug off his pants, then his boxer briefs. She sat back on her heels, sighing and staring in avarice at his thick arousal. “I’ve wanted you so much,” she mumbled as she reached out to encircle him, amazed by his heat and his silky smoothness. “Since the minute you knocked on my door.”