A Siren for the Bear (Sarkozy Brothers Book 1) (8 page)

When she woke, the room was cold and her skin was icy. She'd fallen asleep on top of the covers.

She snuggled under the thick blankets and waited for sleep to come, but half an hour later, she was staring out at the twinkling stars, wide awake. At times like these she practiced, making use of her wakefulness, because tossing and turning made for bad sleep and a grumpy Carson.

She scrambled off the bed and threw her shirt on, slipping out of the room in her bare feet. She made her way down the one flight, heading to the studio. The place was dark, with just a set of small down-lights on at the back of the soundproof room.

She tiptoed through the sound room to the door to the inner recording room, and was searching for the light switch, when she caught sight of someone sitting in a small pool of yellow light, shadowed by moonlight.

Marek was near the window, perched on the window seat that ran the length of the wall, headphones covering his ears, his forehead scrunched in concentration.

The door shut behind her, the sharp click alerting him to her presence.

Crap.

He shifted off the seat, tugging the headphones from his ears.

Carson swallowed. They were completely alone. Which was a very bad thing.

"Sorry, I didn't know anyone was in here." She backed away, awareness filling her veins. They were together here, in this room that looked out on to the wild night. Her heart thudded against her ribs and her breath seemed to have escaped her lungs.

She took a soft breath and reached for the handle behind her. "I'll just leave you alone."

He was across the room in the blink of an eye, moving so swiftly and silently she didn't even see him until his hand closed over hers.

"Don't go."
 

Carson looked up at him, a part of her brain registering how close he stood in front of her.

She cleared her throat. "I have to."

"Why."

"Because this isn't a good idea."

"What isn't?"

She cleared her throat again, then bit her lip. There was no escape unless he let her open the door.

She was scrabbling around for something to say when he said, "I owe you an apology."

"What for?"

"For not telling you I was part of the band."

She shrugged. "It's not really my business, is it?"

"It is when it might have meant you'd turn down my offer."

"You thought I would turn it down because
you
were in the band?" she repeated, frowning.

"Would you have?"

She opened her mouth to say no, then realized she might have declined had she known. Only because he was altogether too much for her to deal with. Knowing she'd be seeing him day in and day out for weeks might have been enough of her to decline the offer.

He smiled and took a step away. "Exactly." He sounded so self-deprecating that Carson reached out and grabbed on to his forearm. She hadn't meant to touch him, but the contact was enough to send heat flaring through her limbs.

The muscles beneath her fingers flexed and he said, "You should let go of me now."

The instruction was odd, as if it was a reluctant warning. She looked up at him, hesitant to break the contact, enjoying the feel of him too much.

When she saw the fire spark in his eyes it was already too late.

He shifted closer, his hooded eyes watching her, and she took a step back, but not because she wanted to get away. More because she felt she couldn't breathe with him so close.

The wall was at her back. She had nowhere to go, and when he bent his head to hers, she let out a soft sigh.

His lips closed over hers, possessing her, his tongue delving deep, dancing against hers, hard and fast. Fire surged through her body as she responded, her movements urgent and needing more.

He pressed against her body, grinding his hips into hers, and when she moaned, he lifted her off the ground, pulling her legs around his hips. Only then did she realize she'd forgotten to put her tights back on. She'd ventured from the room, barefoot, with nothing on other than her damned thong.

Yet, all that mattered now was that she was in Marek's arms, as if this moment had been one that she'd been heading toward all this while. He pushed against her, his hard length pressing against her center. He ground against her and she let out a moan as he left her mouth, his lips traveling down her throat, dipping toward the exposed flesh of her chest. Her shirt fell open, buttons coming loose, bra undone with little effort and even less objection.

He ran his hands along the length of her thighs, stroking her heated flesh, cupping her ass, and squeezing her cheeks hard. She sighed as the action made her pulsate with need. His lips closed over her hardened nipple, his tongue running slowly across the distended tip before sucking hard.

She let out a soft cry as he gave her other breast the same attention.

What was he doing to her? And why was she letting him do it? She stiffened, her brain telling her that this was her boss. Hadn't she decided not to have anything to do with him?

When his hand slipped between her legs, she lost all ability for coherent thought as she bucked against his exploring fingers. He slid the fabric of her thong aside and slipped a finger between the lips of her sex.

She was burning up, slick and about to explode.

The cry she let out was louder than she'd expected.

"Marek."

T
HE
WAY
SHE
SAID
HIS
name made him crazy with need. Not that he wasn't already crazy for her. She was all hot and wet, ready to accept him, but he held himself in check.

The sane part of him said this was a stupid thing to do. She was a new member of the band, and sleeping with band members more often than not led to trouble.

The sane part of him said he should stop now, leave before things got out of hand.

The sound of her moan told him things had already gotten out of hand. He moved his finger along her slit, with long hard strokes that made her whimper. When she moaned aloud, the sound more urgent, he settled his thumb on her clit, moving in in slow circles as he listened to her soft sighs, as she writhed and bucked against his hand.

He slipped a finger inside her, reveling in the sound of her cries as she bucked against him, arching her back, urging him to touch her just that much more.

Then her hand went to his waist, and he couldn't think straight. His belt disappeared, his zipper scraped open, and his jeans were sliding down his hips before common sense made its appearance.

"Marek... I..." she whispered, her voice throaty and desperate.

That sound was his undoing.

"What do you need, baby?" he asked, thrusting his fingers deeper.

She cried out, louder and more desperate this time. "Please..." She shifted, and when her fingers closed over him in exactly the same way he'd envisioned when he'd watched her grip that microphone, he almost lost control. She tightened her grip, urging him closer.

"Are you sure?" he asked softly, his eyes meeting her heavy-lidded ones. She breathed softly, lifting her hips forward as he removed his fingers.

"Yes. Marek." She moaned, urging him closer, placing him at her slick entrance.

She shuddered, her breath coming in soft sobs, and he couldn't wait any longer. No woman had needed him this much before. No woman had ever cried out for him this desperately.

Every other woman had wanted from him what he'd wanted from her. Mutual satisfaction. Yet with Carson, all he wanted was to make her happy, to satisfy
her
.

He was afraid to think about what that meant.

For now, primal need took over and he plunged into her, filling her with every inch of him. The cry she let out enveloped him, the sound thick with need and desire.

She moved against him, urging him to pull away, and when he filled her again, she gasped, her thighs tightening around his hips. He moved his thumb back to her nub. She was close. He could feel her muscles tightening around him, and he wanted her to come with him.

He stroked her as they shifted into a frenzied rhythm. As he slammed into her, their cries equaled their need. He felt her tense, sensing his own imminent release. He waited until he was ready.

And then they both exploded, the pulsing orgasm joining them together as they both shuddered through it, foreheads against each other, breath mingling.

W
HAT
THE
HELL
JUST
HAPPENED
?

Carson's breathing slowed, although her bare breasts were still pressed hard against Marek's rippling chest. Her legs were wrapped tight around his waist, her arms gripping his muscular arms fiercely.

He shifted to look at her, his eyes assessing her. Just when she thought she saw rejection in his eyes, he lowered his lips and kissed her. Passion flared again and almost brought her to tears as she kissed him back as fiercely as he kissed her.

She'd assumed it was over, that now was the time that regret would open a rift between them. And then she felt him harden inside her, felt her body respond with heated need.

He moved, and this time their joining was fast and hard and urgent. No gentle exploration, just passionate frenzy.

And when they slid to the floor, he kissed her neck, running his fingers down her sweat-slick spine. "You're so beautiful."

"So are you." She whispered the words against his neck, leaving a trail of tender bites in the wake of her breath. She could barely believe it. It felt like the wispy part of her dreams had become real.

But not real enough to endure in the light of day.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked, kissing her collarbone.

She shook her head and sighed. "It was perfect."

Then she opened her eyes and stiffened.

"What's wrong?" he asked, lifting his head. His eyes were clouded with concern, a worried line marring the length of his forehead.

"Protection," she said ruefully.

He shrugged, the line smoothing instantly. "It's fine. It's a special trait of my genes. I won't likely have kids."

She cupped his cheek, feeling a deep aching sadness for Marek. Somehow, the thought of being pregnant with his child hadn't been all that displeasing. In fact, she found herself slightly disappointed at his revelation.

"What happened?" she asked, wondering if he'd been sterilized at some point. She knew there were some diseases that could do that to a man.

He laughed, although something in his voice hurt her heart. "Let's just say it's a curse I have to live with."