Flash Burned (31 page)

“I like what you're doing,” he murmured against my hair.

I worked the buttons on his shirt and spread the material open. Both palms glided over his hot skin and hard muscles.

Gazing up at him, I said, “You're too damn tempting.” Even the scar on his chest and the one cutting across his chiseled abs, both just faint reminders of the disaster at 10,000 Lux, added to his edgy perfection.

I left kisses over his tanned and sculpted torso while he stripped off his shirt. Then his strong arms encircled my waist and he lifted me slightly off the floor and walked us to the bed. The backs of my legs hit the mattress and he eased me down.

He quickly peeled away my clothes, then stretched alongside me.

One of his hands skimmed over my shoulder, then down to my breast, cupping it and squeezing gently. I wondered if he noticed that I filled his palm more than in the past or if he'd comment about my slightly curvier figure and the low rise of my belly.

But then I recalled how I'd gained weight during all of the food sampling at the Lux before Thanksgiving, and suspected he didn't see or feel a difference. After all, he hadn't been with me when I'd lost weight in the hospital and when the severe morning sickness had left my stomach concave.

I relaxed, certain he had no idea I was pregnant. Not that I wasn't dying to tell him—what woman, wife, mother-to-be, wouldn't be? But following our discussion and his fear over how his work impacted me. I knew I had to keep my own secret.

Conversely, I was presented with the opportunity to be completely selfish. If I told Dane about the baby, he'd never leave my side.

But just as he'd never forgive himself if something were to happen to me, I'd never forgive myself for pulling him away from what needed to be done.

It was all kinds of fucked up, in the hopes justice would prevail. Given all I'd lost and succumbed to this far, I was in too deep to let it all slip away now, just to keep him close.

So I bit my tongue, even though every fiber of my being screamed to share the joy of childbearing with my husband.

Sacrifices.

I'd never made so many before, but once again, I thought of the greater good. Not just me, Dane, the baby, and Kyle. Though the reason I was likely capable of this approach was because of the protection surrounding me. And the fact that I wanted to safeguard my family just as fiercely as everyone else did.

I tangled my fingers in Dane's lush hair and said, “I'm sorry you had to drop everything to come back.”

“I'm sorry I have to be away so long.”

“I do miss your hands on my body.” I winked. Tried to keep things light so I didn't spew my guts and tell him how painful it was to be without him. How much I wanted him learning everything about our child along with me. How I craved him each and every night that we were apart.

His lips grazed mine. Then he murmured, “You are so very beautiful. I lie awake and think of how soft and flawless your skin is. How perfect you are.”

I groaned. “Not so flawless or perfect.” I had my own scars.

“Hmm,” he groaned sexily. “You never see what I see.”

His finger and thumb toyed with my puckered nipple, tightening it more. His head dipped and he suckled softly before fluttering his tongue against the sensitive bud. My breasts grew heavy with desire. Need coursed through me, hot and bright.

He lavished the other nipple with the same delicious attention and I writhed beneath him, my back bowing to press myself against his mouth, my breasts aching for everything he offered. Every sinful touch.

“You taste good.” His warm breath blew against the taut peak, making it impossibly hard. “And feel so incredible.” His hand slid over my rib cage and belly, lower to the apex of my legs.

I parted my thighs just as his fingers whisked over my slick folds, a feathery sensation meant to tease and tantalize. My hips rose greedily as I offered myself to him.

“Dane,” I whispered.

His emerald irises glowed seductively. “I think about this, too,” he mused as he stroked me slowly. “How wet you get for me.”

The pads of two fingers moved in a leisurely, circular motion against my clit as he stared into my eyes. The intensity of his gaze heightened my arousal.

The sweeping blades of the ceiling fan overhead sent a slight breeze skating over my skin, but it didn't cool me down. My internal temperature flared. A fire burned through my veins.

I wanted Dane to make love to me, but I couldn't break the eye contact, couldn't say anything that would cause him to deviate from the excitement he evoked with his masterful touch. My hips rolled with his sensuous rhythm. Everything in my head and all the danger and drama melted away as he maintained the eye contact and gradually picked up the pace between my legs, turning the leisurely stroking into a quicker fluttering that made my breath catch.

“You're going to make me come,” I said on a heavy breath.

“That's the plan.”

“So easily. You barely even touch me.…”

“I'll touch you more, then.” Two fingers eased into me, filling me.

“Oh, God.” My eyelids drooped, then closed. I let the feeling of him massaging my inner walls, pushing deep, stroking slow and sexy, consume me.

“Ari,” he whispered against my cheek before kissing it tenderly. “All I want in the world is to make you happy.”

The corners of my mouth quivered. A smile that competed with emotion. “You do.”

His thumb rubbed my clit as his fingers pumped expertly, with just the right tempo, the right pressure. Lowering his head again, he flicked his tongue over my nipple, then sucked hard as his fingers drove deep.

Everything inside me erupted and I cried out his name, coming on a powerful release that raged through me. My fingers tightened around his hair. The other hand gripped his biceps, my nails digging in.

“Oh, God,” I whimpered as the sensations flamed over my skin, ignited in my belly.

Dane let out a low growl as I clutched his fingers inside me, my hips still raised as I savored every second of the fiery orgasm.

“Ari,” he whispered against my neck. “You make me so crazed with wanting you.”

“Then fuck me. Dane, now.
Please.
”

I'd always needed him in a dark, frenzied sort of way. That need had grown into a relentless, insistent ache that made me desperate for him. Especially when I'd suffered weeks without him.

His fingers withdrew from me and he flipped me onto my stomach. Over my shoulder, I watched as he yanked the top button of his pants and shoved the zipper down, then pushed the material—along with his boxer-briefs—to his hips.

He thrust into me from behind, making me cry out from sheer pleasure.

His hand sought mine, our fingers twining above my head. My free hand curled around the comforter while he pumped solidly and fantastically into me.

“Oh, yes,” I said in a throaty moan. “Just like that. Fuck me hard.”

I could tell his need mirrored mine. He plunged deep with quick, full strokes.

His ridged abs pressed to my back. His chest sealed against my shoulder blades. With his head bent to mine, he whispered, “Tell me you know that everything I do is for you—for us.”

I knew instinctively he spoke of the indictments. “Of course, Dane.”

“Because I wouldn't be away from you for a second, wouldn't give up having you every night of my life. Forever. If it wasn't absolutely necessary. Imperative.”

“You don't have to justify, Dane. Just fuck me.”

I wanted him that much. Conversation, rationale,
nothing
mattered. Just him, inside me.

All that registered was the insane rush of adrenaline through my veins. The thundering of my heart. The racing of my pulse. My hyperawareness of Dane. A vibrant, powerful presence that surrounded me, permeated every inch of me.

He thrust deeper and hit that perfect spot until I was panting and whimpering and dying for more.

“Dane. Oh, Christ.” He had all the right moves and knew exactly how to use them to push me so high up I couldn't stop the swelling and subsequent eruption inside me. “Yes, God, Dane!” I cried out.

Every sensation converged and burned until I couldn't think straight, couldn't feel anything other than my magnificent husband filling me as I clenched him tight.

“That's perfect, baby,” he said in a lusty voice. He thrust heartily, keeping me aroused. I wasn't sure when one orgasm stopped and the other began.

“Fuck, Ari!” He surged and convulsed and exploded within me.

So hot and searing that I came again.

 

chapter 17

I was sore the next morning, but oh, did it feel good! My inner thighs burned with the sensation of a really great workout. My pussy throbbed from the way Dane had filled and stretched me, the way his thick shaft had thrust in a confident, commanding way.

I clung to the tangible proof he'd made love to me the night before. Because I already knew he'd left me. The bed wasn't as warm. That strong presence of his had vanished.

Opening my eyes, I rolled toward the side of the bed he'd slept in, noting the indentation still in the pillow. Along with a long-stemmed white rose from our garden. I lifted it to my nose and inhaled. There was no note. As though he couldn't even take just the tiniest risk by leaving physical evidence behind that he was alive.

With a sigh, I hauled myself up and showered. Fought the tears that came with the heartache of not being with him. I focused, instead, on the cherished moments we did spend together. The man certainly didn't waste what little time we had on these rare occasions.

Still, it was like being married to a phantom. A seriously hot, sexy one, but an apparition all the same. A husband who could very easily be a figment of my imagination were it not for the soreness of my inner thighs.

I joined Amano on the back patio for breakfast while Kyle lifted weights in the fitness room.

Amano handed over a slim box with a coy grin.

“What's this?”

“Dane wanted you to have it.”

Okay, maybe he did feel the need to leave some proof of life behind.

I opened the lid. My heart stammered—not in a good way. Carefully removing the ID bracelet, I said, “He wanted me to have his wedding bracelet? Why?” Panic seized me. “Is he not expecting to … come back? To survive this?”

“No, no,” Amano was quick to say. “It's not his. It's one similar to his. Since you don't have the diamond bangle he gave you, he wanted you to have something as a symbol of your marriage, your union.”

“Oh.” Relief washed over me. “Jesus, that was scary.”

I rubbed my thumb over the smooth platinum surface, happy for the material confirmation that, although my husband might be a phantom, I was, indeed, married.

Flipping the bracelet over to inspect the clasp, I got another surprise.

“What is this?”

“Inscription,” Amano said. “It's on Dane's as well. You didn't know?”

“He never takes it off.”

I studied the markings.

DB 51027211 AB

With a frown, I said, “I don't get it.”

“Dane Bax, the date of your wedding, Aria Bax.”

“Huh.” My brow dipped. “Why's the date backwards?”

Amano shrugged. “Apparently, that's a secret-society ring decoder kind of thing. I don't know all the details.”

“Something tells me that's a good thing.”

I stared at the inscription a few seconds more, a curious thought clawing at my brain.

Amano noted my consternation. “What's wrong?”

“I've seen a number sequence like this before. But I can't remember where.” I closed my eyes, envisioned the date of our wedding, and then tried to visualize the sequence I'd seen … and wondered why it made me think of Dane. Finally I shook my head. “All this intrigue is clearly messing with my mind. I'm going to do a little yoga. Thanks for bringing me the bracelet.”

I collected our dishes and took them into the kitchen to load in the washer. Then I grabbed my mat and went out by the pool. Gretchen had already told me not to do any poses on my back or that would stretch my abdominals too much, now that I'd started my second trimester. So I took it easy, really just working on my breathing and light stretching while my mind churned with the mystery of those eight digits.

It took all day for one very ominous thought to click in my head. I was in the middle of slicing veggies for an appetizer platter before dinner when I dropped the knife. It clamored on the marble counter and Amano jerked to attention, having been engrossed in a magazine.

“Are you okay?”

“I don't know.” My blood ran cold. Numbers that weren't quite defined but rather a bit blurred flashed in my mind. They were red. Blood red. Then they vanished. Next, I heard Dane's voice.

Digits? Do you remember what they were?

I hadn't written anything down that night I'd viewed the Lux's Web site to see what sort of jobs for the Events department were posted, wanting to get an idea of the positions that would report to and support me, were I to take Dane up on his offer to run the show.

Suddenly the site had turned a deep onyx and the words
Under Construction
had flickered on the screen, in crimson. Along with numbers in the bottom right-hand corner.

I closed my eyes again, attempting to make a distinct determination of what I'd seen before the Web page had gone blank, solid black.

I could see the five and the one. I concentrated harder, and though I couldn't recall the exact numbers after those two, I could for sure say there'd been eight digits total.

My lids snapped open.

“Who, besides the secret society, would know about the backwards writing of dates?” I asked Amano.

He looked a bit perplexed by the line of questioning but shook his head. “I can't say. I only learned about the society when Vale kidnapped you. And Dane didn't tell me much.”