Vivian Arend - High Passion

Erin lost her relaxed posture, leaning forward on her elbows. “You got troubles, hon? Are you in danger?” Her eyes widened. “Shit, you think you know who might have drugged you?”

The idea of Vincent being involved seemed impossible. “I’ve got troubles, but right now I have no idea how Vincent could have orchestrated something like drugging me. I’m . . . Devon knows. It’s part of the reason why I’m living here temporarily.”

“Vincent?” Erin frowned. “Who’s that, and what’s he been doing?”

Alisha gave a brief rundown, noting with satisfaction that Erin didn’t seem ready to run from the room, but instead her spine stiffened as if she were ready to do battle on Alisha’s behalf.

When Alisha was done, Erin nodded slowly, folding her fingers together and holding them to her lips for a moment as she considered. “I’ve had a bad relationship before, oddly enough not with the guy you heard me mention. He was . . . a different issue. As well, in a way, the solution to the first creep.”

“You had a guy get rid of the first troublemaker?”

“Him, and a restraining order.” Erin shifted position to sit on the bed beside Alisha. “Look, there are times no matter what you do, no matter how firm you are in handling a situation, you won’t be able to deal without help. It’s one of the downfalls of being a woman in today’s society.”

Alisha nodded. “Society can go suck eggs.”

“Agreed.” Erin caught her hand and squeezed it. “Thanks for telling me. I’ll keep an eye out for you, but honestly? Being involved with Devon is great front-line help. On a different topic, if you need to get your stuff out of your old apartment, well, I’ve got room to store things. Heck, you can move in with me temporarily if you’d like—I’m not keen on a permanent roomie, because I enjoy my personal space, but the offer is there if you need it.”

Alisha would be crying in a minute if she wasn’t careful. “Thank you. I just want Vincent to go away. I’m not changing my mind, so I don’t see what good it does him to hang around.”

Erin hummed. “He’s staying in Banff? How can he do that for a prolonged period of time? I thought he worked for the company your dad owns.”

“I assume he’s using the computer to work remotely.” Alisha had wondered the same thing. “I’d call my father to find out, but the last time I asked him a question about Vincent I got nowhere. Plus, I don’t need more pressure from that quarter for me to do the right thing and come to my senses .”

“To hell with that,” Erin muttered. She rose to her feet. “Come, grab something to eat and say hi to the guys—they’ve been worried sick about you.”

Alisha stood. “Thanks for the ear, Erin. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime.” She nodded. “And say the word, and we’ll take care of your apartment for you. I’ll coordinate, get the guys to add the muscle power. We’ll be done in no time.”

“I might take you up on that offer,” Alisha promised.

They stepped into the hall and down to the living room. The team swarmed Alisha. One set of muscular arms after the other surrounded her as she was passed down the line and hugged fiercely. Tripp’s teddy bear envelopment was followed by Anders’s more casual embrace. Xavier squeezed her extra hard before flipping into paramedic mode and examining her eyes.

“Ambulance chaser,” she joked, pressing a hand against his chest. “Go away.”

“Attention hog.” Xavier patted her shoulder, then gestured toward the couch. “Put your feet up. You get to cast the deciding vote for the first show of the night.”

“ Hellboy marathon?”

“God, no.” Devon slipped onto the couch beside her. “How can someone so sweet and innocent like you watch that crap?”

Alisha accepted a plate of food from Tripp, leaning on the couch contentedly. “What? You want to do the Lord of the Rings again? I think you’ve got a serious crush on Legolas.”

Tripp blinked. “Well, who doesn’t?”

Anders cackled. “Or Gimli.”

Devon rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right, I’m all about the dwarves. But make it Thorin, and you’d be closer to the mark.”

That earned him a few hoots of laughter, and Alisha smiled harder and relaxed into the easy acceptance of the team as they distracted her by being themselves.

Less than twelve hours ago Vincent had threatened her. It seemed impossible, like some drug-induced hallucination. Glancing around the room, though, she couldn’t bear to think of not being a part of this. The smiles, the jokes. The honest-to-God caring.

Beside her Devon had balanced his plate in his lap so he could drape an arm around her shoulders. She snuggled in tight, allowing his body heat to comfort her like a living blanket.

The show began, conversation continuing over the soundtrack since they’d all seen the show a hundred times. Conversation and teasing were the order of the day, and her fears faded. How could anything tear her from something so powerful as the caring and commitment she’d found in Lifeline?

Devon couldn’t stay away. The last of the team had silently slipped out once they’d discovered Alisha had fallen asleep sometime during the second movie. He’d remained motionless, her head resting on his chest, with knowing glances tossed his direction, especially from Erin and Tripp, before the door clicked shut behind them.

He carried her to the bedroom, her breathing staying even and heavy, she was so out of it. Devon arranged her on the bed, pulling off her sweats, but hesitating over the sweatshirt until he decided she couldn’t possibly be comfortable sleeping in the bulky thing.

She nuzzled against him as he supported her with his body and slipped off the top, her sleep-warmed skin scalding him with the desire to consume her like a feast. Leaving the room wasn’t possible—not unless he wanted to spend his evening returning every five minutes to check on her like some crazed stalker.

So he gave in and stripped, joining her in the bed. She turned and cuddled in instantly, her strong fingers skimming over his chest. A happy noise escaped her, somewhere between a sigh and moan.

He kissed the top of her head as she eased one of her legs between his, tangling them together intimately. All of it so natural, so comfortable, they could have been lovers for years instead of weeks.

The whole thing with Vincent had shaken him more than he’d thought. Adding in Tripp’s concerns, he really didn’t know what to think, other than that he was determined to keep Alisha safe.

How to accomplish that, he had no idea. Waves of helpless frustration swamped him harder than the sexual desire he always felt in her presence. This wasn’t about wanting her, although there was no doubt that he did. It was about being there for her and not letting her down.

She’d said she trusted him, but should she?

The fear that he wouldn’t be enough made him stare into the darkness for a long, long time.

He must have drifted off. It was the only explanation, because there was this incredible heat surrounding his cock. Wet pressure pulled him from dreams that involved entirely too much of Alisha’s eyes—turned blue with passion—staring up as she wrapped her perfect lips around his shaft and sucked him.

Only it wasn’t completely a dream. Her eyes were there in front of him, staring earnestly as the blood rushed to his cock. She’d separated their bodies far enough to wrap her fingers around his shaft as she worked him in a smooth steady pace that had his balls tightening and him blinking to regain consciousness.

“I’m taking advantage of you,” she whispered.

“Sweet Jesus.” Devon took a deep breath, attempting to muster up the strength to force her to stop. “Alisha, oh hell . . . ”