Handcuffed by Her Hero (3 page)

There were no shadows now.

But this also had nothing to do
with sex. Not a damn thing.
Not a thing. Not a thing. Not a thing.

She timed the mantra with every
frantic breath that left her as Zeke set her clothes aside, then turned back
and settled his weight between her legs again. She braced herself for what he’d
do next. For the push against her legs, the vulnerability of her body, the humiliation
of his gaze on her disgrace. The way he’d prod at the piercing, reminding her
that a part of her ordeal would never leave her. That the nightmare would never
really go away.

He lowered his fingers to her
skin. Against her hips.

Bewilderment dragged her eyes
open. Again, the man’s size made him take up most of her view, but Rayna’s
focus was seized by more than that. In the last minute, his face had changed
again. The hungry puma was gone. The protective grizzly wasn’t back yet,
either. But what she stared at now wasn’t another beast. He was all man. A man
who took her in with a gaze like heat beneath coals, instead of his typical sparks
and intensity. A man with a full-lipped mouth that seemed finally at rest,
instead of the quirks that obeyed the slightest changes of his temperament. A
man who slid just the pads of his fingers along her skin, slowly and
reverently, almost like a kid learning a new texture.

“You’re
beautiful, you know.” He traced her hipbones with his thumbs.

Rayna snuck her
tongue out to re-wet her lips. Beautiful? He was tossing that out to describe
her
when
he
looked at her like this, touched her like this? “Th-thank you.”

She finished
that with a deep gulp. To her shock, Z matched the action. He paused his hands.
His head rotated, face intense as he glanced to her sweats and panties. He
blinked as if realizing what he’d just done…and was silently admitting that
this might not be a good idea, after all.

She needed to
listen to that instinct, too. This was her opportunity. She could roll away
right now. Z would probably let her. They’d laugh awkwardly, and this moment
would officially be in their past. They could go back to standing on opposite
sides of the bridge that connected them, enjoying the view while safe on their
respective shores and traveling across from time to time for visits…but never
touching in the middle. Never throwing off the balance. Him: Dominant. Her:
never going there. Yes, balance was good. Balance was necessary.

Zeke moved his
hands again. Into the crevices where her thighs joined her torso.

Buh-bye,
opportunity.

She twisted her
hands into the sheets as her heartbeat set up camp in her throat. Zeke moved
his hands down and pushed at the insides of her legs. She clenched in resistance.

“I’m only going
to look, Rayna.” His voice was so intimate she doubted someone standing at the
door would be able to hear it. “I promise…if it hurts, I’ll stop.”

She swept her
stare up to his face. He waited with those banked embers in his eyes, with that
perfect slant of his lips, with his wide shoulders set, waiting on her
patiently. Everything about him said the only thing on his mind was her health
and safety.

If he’d tethered
his Dom for the night, then she could damn well do the same with her whiny
infant.

She relaxed her
legs.

Zeke opened
them.

Rayna gulped
hard and looked up at the ceiling. She mentally filed it as a necessary chore,
like a root canal or a pap smear. The gynecologist at the base had a round
sticker on the ceiling over her stirrup table, a conversation bubble that said
I
Hate This.
That sign had always pissed her off, but now she’d give anything
for even that distraction from the strong, sure fingers that parted her pubic
curls, softly wending his way toward the circle of steel embedded in the hood
of her most intimate flesh.

She bit the
inside of her lip when he found it. Nobody had touched her there since that
awful night in Thailand. The only reason
she
went near it was to wash
the area. She certainly hadn’t inspected the little ring like Zeke did now, softly
twisting it, lifting it a couple of different ways to observe the insertion
point in her skin…

And unleashing a
wholly unexpected force in her body.

“Force” as in an
eight-plus on the Richter Scale. Cracked cliffs of composure. Tsunami time.

Holy hell.

Thank God she
already had a death grip on the sheets. Her increased torque wouldn’t appear
odd. Z didn’t have to know that the reason she tortured her Mulberry four-hundred
threads was because of the jolt he’d just given her entire sex with his tender
exam. The little flicks were like the light switch on a stunning light display,
flooding her pussy with new awareness, immersive heat…

Crap. How was
this possible? She wavered between a wild need to know the answer and a screaming
who-gives-a-shit. Her entire core was suddenly electric and alive, and she struggled
not to cry out in pure wonder. She had no idea how she limited herself to the
sharp breath she pulled in through her nose, which made Zeke stop his exam.

“You okay, honey?”

“Fine.” She
sounded like a chipmunk and hated herself for it. What the hell was wrong with
her? And how on earth could she gain a second of pleasure from that
thing
they’d forced into her flesh? She cleared her throat and said more forcefully,
“Yeah, fine.”

Zeke still
didn’t move a muscle, or for that matter, a finger—which was just as
exasperating. “You don’t look fine.”

“Can you just
focus and finish?” she snapped.

He tilted his
head as if preparing to fire a comeback but gave her thick silence through the
rest of his inspection, instead. Damn it. This had been
his
stubborn-ass
idea, and now
her
psyche was the pinball machine of arousal, guilt,
irritation, and confusion. As the man himself enjoyed saying all the time, this
was some messed-up shit.  

Fortunately, he only
subjected her to another thirty seconds of the wordless tension—and the strokes
to her libido that recruited even her toes into sheet-twisting duty. When he finally
lifted his head, he wore a look she couldn’t define. His mouth was still an
unreadable line, though his gaze had changed hues again. His eyes, bright as
garnet, emphasized his ungodly long lashes and the tan he’d brought home from
the mission. Great. Like she needed the reminders that the man’s face was as
captivating as his fingers.

“Well, I’m
shocked,” he said. “They got it right and did it clean.” His lips lifted a
little. The smile extended up, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “You’re going
to be fine, bird,” he assured. “It looks good.”

Rayna admitted her
own surprise. “Really?”

“Yep.” He
nodded. “Genital piercings heal fast, if they heal right.”

The statement,
along with the breath he let out after it, enabled Rayna to finally ID his
previous expression. Relief. From what she could tell, a bunch of the stuff. Despite
this wholly uncomfortable situation, she smiled, too. It seemed he’d been
really worried about her, not just a chest-beating thing to get his
testosterone card punched.

She was relieved
too, though her mindset stemmed from a different purpose than Zeke’s.
Much
different. She debated revealing it, but realized this might be her only chance
of attaining it. She’d never be in this position with Zeke again. And she’d
never have the guts to ask it of anyone else.  

“So if it’s
healed, you can take it out, right?”

She expected his
smile to fall. It did. She expected his moment of contemplation after it, as
well. But his shadowed scowl? That wasn’t on the checklist. Nor was the retort he
gave back in a guttural murmur.

“Why do you want
it out?”

She actually
laughed. “You’re kidding, right?” She met his stare now, inch for unblinking
inch. “You
have
to be kidding. You think I need a memento of that hell?
A
reminder
of what happened?”

Zeke shifted his
hands to the tops of her thighs. His grip was steady, matching his entire mien.
“What they did to your body healed, but what they did to your soul hasn’t. And
you’re not treating
that
wound, Rayna. Now it’s becoming infected,
dysfunctional.” He jerked his head toward her meds bottles on the desk. “And
it’s why you still need all that shit.”

Hell. She should
have kept her intention to herself. Just gone to a piercing parlor and let some
stranger get the ring out of her. Now she had to deal with what Z’s words did
to her heart, the rip they widened inside. “What’s your point?” she bit out.

Zeke caught the
hand she lifted to cover her eyes. “The remembering is what heals you,
Ray-bird. It’s what makes you stronger. Better.” She sniffed, unsuccessfully
battling tears. The torment got worse when Z intensified her horror by guiding
her hand down, then down some more, until she touched the steel circle that
felt like an alien implant to her body. “Feel it,” he directed. “Do it. Feel
your body. Love it again. You’re so fucking stunning, Rayna. You’re warm,
you’re vibrant, and you’re
alive.
You did it. You survived.” He took her
index finger and swirled its tip around the little jewel embedded into the clit
ring. “This piercing isn’t your shame. It’s your true medal of honor. Touch it.”

The tears came
faster. He was a mush of colors across her vision but in the mirrors of her soul,
she’d never seen things more clearly. She could practically hear the storm
canopies being thrown free off her psyche, exposing the skies of her spirit,
the heights of her strength. And ohhhh yes…the pulsing needs of her body too. She
set them free a little bit more, using her fingers to spread the wings of her
sex, gasping as pulses of lust tore through her intimate tissues, now welcoming
them. Rejoicing in them.

It was all
because of him. Her wisdom. Her hero. Her friend.

But damn it,
right now, she didn’t need a friend. She needed more. If only for tonight, for
this hour of liberation and light, she needed
him
as more.

“Zeke.” It left
her on a desperate breath. His fingers still twined with hers, though she now
realized he was following her lead, not the other way around. “Please…” The
supplication made their breaths mingle, too. She smiled as she pulled on his
middle finger, leading that beautifully long digit toward the opening into her deepest
core. The motion brushed his thumb against her ring, moving the metal directly
on her clit again. She throbbed with wet need. “Shit!”

He moved over her
on an urgent surge. His breath, cool as rain yet warm as summer, blew across
her neck and face.

“Ray-bird.” His
voice was husky, his stare dark with his complete focus on her. Rayna gazed
back, trying to smile through her lingering tears. That effort went to hell
when he caught a drop with his lips, wicking it from her with a little kiss. He
did it to another. Another.

Forget crying
now. Or breathing. She surrendered them both to wonderment. From the moment
she’d met him, this man was gunning for a header of his own in Webster’s under
the word
ferocious.
This tenderness illuminated a new facet of him. How
many more of these surprises would he unveil tonight?

She yearned to
get started on that answer, but the man himself didn’t seem to agree. Though
his other still hand circled the sensitive membranes at the entrance of her
vagina, driving her into the stratosphere from aching heat, he didn’t enter
her.

“Zeke, please!”

A ragged sigh
fell off his lips. “Rayna.” It sounded damn near like an entreaty from, too. A deep
furrow invaded his brow. “Fuck…Rayna.”

She dug her
fingers into the longer hairs along his nape. “
You
did this to me. Now
you have to help me!”

A ragged sigh
shook his whole frame. He dropped his forehead to hers. “Honey, I’d love
nothing better than to bury my finger inside you right now. I’ve fantasized
about it, okay?
Lots
of times. I’ve dreamed about what you’d feel like,
taste like, be like. But—”

He stopped
himself with a huff. Rayna grabbed his jaw. “But what?”

His eyes
glimmered like hazel kaleidoscopes. The rest of his face tightened. “If I get
my finger inside you, I won’t stop there.”

Hell. If his
touch didn’t have her soaked already, that growl of a confession would’ve done
the trick. Her tunnel sluiced with new arousal. The rest of her body joined the
ride. Her nipples pushed at her sleep tee. Her inner thighs burned. She
writhed, so ready to detonate, so hating the word
stop
in so many ways.

“I don’t want
you to.” She ran her thumb along his jaw, savoring the bite of his scruff.

A dark laugh quirked
his face. “You know I’ve spent the last eight weeks with a bunch of rancid
guys, right? You know my only lover’s been my fist, and that the only reason I
even suggested getting you like this was because I got so damn worried about
your piercing, and—” he dropped his head with a harsh grunt. “Shit. If this was
an op, my approach would’ve had us both toes up with bullets in our brains.”