Vivian Arend - Rising, Freestyle

Oh my God . She hadn’t said that. She scrambled to her feet and turned her back on him, fumbling to undo the figure-eight knot holding the rope twined through her safety harness.

Strong arms surrounded her, his hands blocking her attempts at the knot and holding them still. He was a wall of muscle behind her, hot and firm, making all her earlier thoughts return. Sweaty, needy, entangled bodies and…she wasn’t going to be distracted from the fact she was pissed off. She struggled and his grip tightened as he backed up a pace, moving away from the wall.

“Melanie, it’s okay.” He didn’t release her, but his clasp changed, one hand locking her immobile, the other caressing her gently. Prying her hands from the rope until he could slip his fingers over hers, his fingertips teasing the webbing between each digit. The motion was intimate and soothing even as it sent a tingle up her arm.

She closed her eyes, the heat in her face slipping to her chest and farther inside—a rush of warmth that tightened her throat and made it tough to breathe.

He nuzzled at her nape, the warm air of his breathing a caress down her neck. “Melanie?”

Right there in front of her was the wall that had defeated her again. She tilted her head to stare at it, fear making her legs quiver the higher her gaze rose. Only this time Derrick was solid at her back, his warmth a cocoon of safety.

Longing to move forward hit like a thunderclap. Longing for the touch of a man—this man—intertwined with her desires. She’d been afraid for so long.

Melanie twisted in his arms to stare into his eyes—dark midnight pools that were filled with something more than concern. Derrick brushed a knuckle against her temple, smoothing back a loose hair. All the time his gaze fixed on hers.

Then he leaned closer, slowly. Giving time for escape, for retreat, before his lips made contact.

Whisper soft. Not hesitant, but careful.

Too careful. Melanie leaned in harder, accepting his offering. Derrick responded, becoming more forceful and direct. Heat built between them as he ravished her mouth and her mood flipped again. All her stored-up frustrations burst out into glorious lust and she opened her lips willingly. Somehow she found her fingers tangled in his hair like she’d dreamed of earlier. He showed his approval by clutching her hips to him, his arousal evident even through the mass of webbing in the harnesses lashed around their hips. The safety rope wove between their bodies; the hard surface another contrast against the delicate brush of his fingers as he trailed them up her arms.

He kissed her, his tongue teasing along her teeth, tickling her lips, plunging deep. Their breaths mingled as they separated for a second to gasp for air then dove back for more. The tight knot of fear in her belly slipped into an aching need a handspan lower, centered between her legs.

Maybe she should have freaked out sooner. Maybe coming to the climbing wall and forcing herself to get back into a harness was the best thing she could have done.

Maybe she should just concentrate on the man she wanted to climb up and swing from the rafters with. Her swelling desire shoved the lingering stench of her anxiety into the corner as she let the thrill of arousal take her away.

Derrick figured he’d be kicking his own ass once this was over, but for now he reveled in the woman melting in his arms. For the past three weeks he’d been as patient and gentle as a saint. He’d ignored the urge to make a move, sensing her nervousness, thinking it was about her getting back into the swing of climbing again. He’d forced himself to stay aloof and make the situation as peaceful and serene as possible, all the while longing to find out what Melanie Dixon tasted like.

Even the fact she was related to a good friend wasn’t enough to stop him from expressing interest in the dark-haired beauty. Kane’s little sister was grown up enough to know her own mind, and what she’d said she needed was to regain her courage in the climbing arena.

If she had given him even an inkling of what she’d just shared, he would have been all over her weeks ago. Now he was finally getting the chance.

Screw the consequences. She needed this—maybe even more than he did. And he needed it bad.

God , she could kiss. She held his head in traction between her palms, lips tight to his. Every breath he dragged in tasted like her, with that damn tongue exploring and rampaging through his mouth. He cupped her butt and dragged her higher to line them up better, thrusting his own tongue along hers, pulsing it like he wanted to pulse into her body. Her moan of approval rippled along his spine, and he went from hard to utterly rigid. The confining straps of the harness holding his khakis in place pressed on him violently enough to cut off circulation.

Derrick took another step back. There was a sudden jerk as the rope between them snagged and he tripped. Melanie let out a little scream. He rolled instantly to his back to catch her, swearing at his own stupidity in giving her any reason to not trust him. Great, asshole. Drop the woman who’s afraid of falling.

Nothing happened. He lay flat on his back, but instead of the sudden contact of her body slamming against his, he heard a peal of laughter echo off the high walls of the climbing gym.

“Damn it, Derrick, get me out of this mess.”

Her voice came from directly above him, and he looked up to see her face hovering over his. It took a second to follow the lines and figure out what had happened. The loose end of the rope was tangled around his torso, pinned in place by his body weight. The middle of the length rose to the ceiling, looped through the support hooks as it should and returned down to where Melanie’s harness was secured into the other end.

She hung suspended a foot over him, facedown, with the rope caught over one shoulder. Her feet were planted on the wall, holding her in place. She looked as if she were laying flat on her tummy on an invisible diving board.

He stared into her face, checking for any signs of fear, but all he saw was amusement. “Are you okay?”

She snickered. “I’m fine, but a little stuck. Could you please get me down?”

The situation was too tempting to resist. He gripped the rope to keep her in place, then swung himself into a direct line. When he released the rope, letting it slide through his hand an inch at a time, it lowered her all right.

Directly on top of his waiting body.

It felt so damn good, the increasing weight of her settling on him. The warmth of her thighs met his legs, her breasts crushed against his chest. Her gaze bore into him, and he wondered if he’d overstepped his boundaries for the second time.

“Did you plan this all along?” she asked.

He shook his head, trying to ignore the violent urge to rub their groins together to satisfy the hunger burning inside. He couldn’t do that, not unless she showed some indication she was agreeable.

Tying up a woman to get into her pants—it wouldn’t be the first time, but he only did that with willing partners.

“Couldn’t have planned it in a million years,” he confessed.

Her eyes darkened as her gaze darted over his face, landing on his lips with a hungry stare. “Damn, I’d hoped it was on purpose.”

Hallelujah . He let go of the rope and rolled her, diving back into the kiss. Only this time the feel of her under him made him crazy. She opened her legs and his hips settled in tighter, except for the layers of harnesses between them. Like some kind of modern chastity belt, the wide webbing snagged together as he rocked his hips, stopping him from rubbing his erection against her mound. He growled out his frustration.

She grabbed one of his hands and tugged it to her breast.