Ice Storm (Ice 4)

“Never mind.”

She leaned forward, putting her hands on the back of the seat. “What’s going on with you? We’re friends. As far as you’re concerned I don’t even have breasts.”

“Princess, I’m a man. I always notice a woman’s breasts.”

“Okay, first stop tomorrow I’ll buy a bra. Will that make you happy?”

“No.”

“Killian…”

“Just go to sleep,” he said. “I’m going for a walk.” The blast of wind and rain swallowed her protest, and then the door slammed and she was alone in the car.

A moment later she was out in the night, chasing after him. He was barely visible, and the rain beat against her skin like tiny pellets. “Killian, get your ass over here!” she demanded.

“Get back in the car.” His voice came from out of the darkness.

“Not until you do.”

“Get back in the goddamn car, Mary.” He was moving farther away, and the rain was icy, blinding.

She could be just as stubborn. “I’m not going anywhere until you come back.” She started toward the sound of his voice, only to have him suddenly slam up against her out of the night, his arms around her, pulling her close.

“You idiot,” he said. “You almost went over the cliff.”

She tried to look up at him. “Why the hell did you park beside a cliff? Couldn’t you find someplace safer?”

He pushed her up against the car, and she could feel him fumbling behind her for the door latch. “Please,” he said, the word a growl, “get in the car and stay there. If you don’t, I can’t answer for the consequences.”

“Consequences? What the hell are you talking about?”

“This,” he said. And he kissed her.

Not the sweet lover’s kiss she’d daydreamed about. Not the tender touch of his mouth on hers. This was rough, hard, deep—a kiss of such raw demand that it frightened her.

Her arms were trapped between their bodies, and she yanked them free, knowing she should shove him away. Knowing she was going to put them around his neck and pull him closer. Knowing she was going to kiss him back.

He got the door open and pushed her into the front seat, and if he’d had any thought of leaving her he was out of luck, because she held on, dragging him after her into the tiny space.

They were a tangle of arms and legs, mouths and tongues. She yanked at the denim shirt he was wearing, ripping off the buttons to expose the firm smooth flesh, as he pulled her T-shirt over her head and sent it sailing over the seat back. His hands covered her small breasts, and then his mouth, and the car was hot and dark, skin against skin. He pushed her into the driver’s seat and reached under her skirt, finding the plain cotton underwear and yanking it down, putting his hand between her legs, where she was wet and aching.

He didn’t say a word. He simply pulled her back to him, her legs straddling his thighs, and she heard the rasp of his zipper, his soft groan, and then he thrust up into her, pushing, thick and hard. Hard with wanting her, needing her. The thought was dizzying.

She wanted more, and he gave her more, until she was clawing at his shoulders, shaking with it, lost in a dark, wicked place with no words, no tenderness, just heat and need and his cock inside her. Pulsing, thrusting, and her own body shivering, trembling, taking him, all of him, until she burst, arching back, her hair rippling down her naked back, her breath caught in a silent scream.

He put his hands between them, touching her, prolonging it, not moving as wave after wave swept over her, stars and darkness and a thousand pinpricks against her skin. When she was finally able to draw breath into her lungs, he began to move again, thrusting up, hard, over and over and over and over until he was trembling. She was shaking, needing more, ready for him, when he suddenly pushed her off him, and she felt the dampness across her thighs as she fell back against the seat, against him, breathless, weak, and his climax spilled over their bodies.

She wanted to weep. Weep because she wanted everything. Weep because at the last moment he’d protected her. Weep because she loved him and it was never going to work.

She felt his lips behind her ear. “You’re in love with me, princess. Fortunately, I’m in love with you. Now go to sleep, and as soon as it gets light we’ll find a hotel and do this again.”

“Again?” she whispered sleepily. He loved her. Astonishing, unbelievable, but true. He loved her.

“Again and again and again,” he said.

And before she could come up with another word, she fell asleep in his arms in the cramped front seat of the Citroën.

He’d almost blown it, big time, Killian thought, shifting a little beneath his soft burden. He’d forgotten a condom, and the last thing in the world he needed was a pregnant mark. He had every intention of ditching her once he’d completed his assignment, but he was hoping to do it gently, without arousing any suspicions. Break her heart, maybe, but save her life.