Razor's Edge: Men in Blue, Book 2 (18 page)

Like Razor, who’d eaten his hospital-issued Christmas Jell-O alone, she refused to impact the people who cared for her—the
person
who cared—simply because she’d been dumb enough to believe her friend had ever really existed.

So instead, she used Razor’s sympathy and the genuine spark glowing between them to divert his curiosity toward assuaging some of her own.

Isabella cleared her throat, glad for the wine coursing through her veins. Now they’d discover whether he’d really meant it when he’d sworn she never had to be embarrassed around him or when he promised her lack of decorum wouldn’t offend him. Because what she planned to request had to be at least a million times more uncouth than passing gas at the dinner table.

“Can I ask you a favor?” She whispered since they lay close enough for their lips to touch at her question.

“Anything.”

“I’ve never been with anyone other than him. Just that single, disastrous encounter. I never took the lover he blessed. I knew I couldn’t split my heart from my body and have any chance at reconciliation. Plus, I gave my word, and it didn’t feel right. Even now. It doesn’t. Not really.”

She feared the desolation shredding her insides might pierce through her rambling. All hope she’d harbored for a peaceful resolution had dissolved earlier tonight. She had some grainy black and white photos, but no cash to leverage them against a powerful man with unlimited resources who refused to grant her freedom. The temporary shield she’d created out of a web of limelight and bad press during the past week wouldn’t make him any more pleasant to deal with when he dragged her home either.

Thank God she had stopped relating her saga before revealing why her husband wanted to reclaim her when he had no intention of making her a true wife.

“I respect that.” Razor put a little space between them, though the sparse distance didn’t generate enough buffer to matter.

“I can feel…you.” Heat raced up her chest and cheeks at the admission. She’d tried to ignore the thick length of him pressing into her thigh. No success there.

“Sorry, I’m not gonna lie. You’re gorgeous, Isabella. After two days together, you get me. I’d swear you took some thoughts straight out of my mind. We work together like we’ve hung out for years. You’re funny as shit, generous and adorable too. Underneath everything, I sense something wild in you. Something untamed I would give my left nut to see unleashed.”

“James…”

“I’ve never wanted a woman as much as I want you right now. Together we could burn bright enough to chase away both our demons. So, yeah, I’m hard for you. Doesn’t mean I have to do anything about it if you’re not ready. Let me hold you.”

She’d waited her whole life to hear someone say these things and mean them. Cruel fate destined, now that it’d happened, she couldn’t throw caution to the wind and claim what she craved most. Her eyelids squeezed shut to stop the renewed flow of disappointed tears.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” Razor shifted the lower half of his body, stealing the warmth beginning to thaw her frozen core.

“Yes. No.” That’s not what she’d call it. Her breasts hung full and heavy, her pulse grew erratic and her legs refused to stay still as she squeezed her thigh muscles in an attempt to quell the ache in her pussy. “That’s not what I meant. I wondered…”

“Spit it out, Izzy.”

“Can I see you?” She blurted the request before she could talk herself out of it.

In the dusk of his bedroom, Razor’s feral grin turned her insides to molten lava. “Anything you want. Whatever you need and nothing more.”

Her eyes dried out as she gaped, unblinking, while he kicked off the covers. He stripped his shirt and jogging pants from his compact but powerful frame without leaving the bed. Though he lay bare, completely exposed, she locked her gaze on his defined chest. In her peripheral vision, she saw his hands fist in the sheets at his sides.

“Touch me. Explore, Izzy. I won’t move unless you tell me to.”

How could she get that lucky? “I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

“Or leave you unsatisfied.”

“I can take care of myself when you’re through.” His reassurance rasped as though he’d swallowed funny.

Isabella paused to consider her options. The side of the scale holding her guilt rapidly rose as the heavy weight of her genuine desire pulled her toward temptation.

You’re married!

To someone who never intended to honor his vows.

“Go ahead, princess.”

Just a little. A taste.
She leaned in, closer, closer.

Isabella started at his lips, with the smallest of kisses she hoped conveyed a fraction of her appreciation. She trailed her fingers over the strong bend of his jaw, along the corded tendons of his powerful neck to the bold lines of his collarbones. When she laid her cool palms on his steamy pecs, he hissed.

She recoiled, crossing her arms. Her hands tucked between them and her breasts to keep from mauling him again. “Sorry.”

He talked over her apology. “Shh. No harm. It felt great, that’s all.”

“You sure? Your nipples are hard.” She blushed so furiously she probably looked like one of the fire trucks that had raced to their rescue at her apartment.

“I noticed. Why don’t you see what they feel like?” His wistful sigh intrigued her.

“Do you like it when a woman plays with them?” Isabella sat on her haunches beside his hip, leaning forward once more. She drew a tentative circle around one with the tip of her finger.

“Hell, yeah. Though most don’t.”

“Why not?” The bristle of jealousy prickling her at the thought of his many previous lovers came as a surprise. She had no claim on this man.

“I guess they never took the time to learn a guy’s body like you are, princess.” He moaned when she stuck her finger in her mouth. She sucked on the tip to heat it, hoping to prevent shocking him again. “You have no idea how sexy you look right now. Strong, curious and open.”

This time she paused at his scars. The skin hadn’t fully healed yet, leaving them puffy and red. She placed more butterfly kisses along the ridge of his injuries, loving the warmth and taste of him.

“Don’t.” His harsh exhale had her peeking up. He’d slammed his lids closed. “They’re nasty. Move on—”

“No, James, they’re not. You’re so resilient. To come back from this…” Isabella paused, stroking the unblemished flesh on either side of his wounds. She sighed, covering his left hand where it gripped the sheet. “It’s amazing. Gives me hope.”

“Dumb luck. Nothing to get excited about.”

“Lucky for me. For your family. For everyone who loves you and everyone who will. Someday you’ll realize these scars aren’t a reminder of your mistake. They’re a badge of courage.” She dropped one last kiss on the worst of the marks before sliding lower.

How much more could she push the boundary without violating her values? Nothing about the sensual exchange felt wrong. She decided to roll with the pure attraction—the only honest thing she’d ever shared with a man. Something so glorious couldn’t be depraved. Could it?

She teased his upper abs while she debated. His taut muscles mesmerized her. When she followed the ridge of one rib toward his abdomen, he jerked, laughing. “Tickles.”

The musical quality of his amusement had her smiling in return. “I won’t take advantage of you.”

“I wish you would.” His hips arched on the bed. She avoided peeking at her goal. “But I understand why you can’t. I’m good. Keep going. If you want to.”

As though I can stop now.

Her hands splayed over his belly, relishing the contraction of his lithe body. His chest rose and fell beneath the harsh breaths he took, every movement a dance of coordinated sinew that had moisture soaking her new cotton panties. The foreign sensation had her squirming, which spread her arousal.

She could kneel here and watch this magnificent man all day, though she must be tormenting him. Unwilling to rush through a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, she closed her eyes then spun toward his feet.

“Holy shit.” His muffled curse had her stiffening until he clarified. “Izzy, you have an amazing ass. I wish you didn’t have those damn sweats on.”

Could she give him what he hungered for? It seemed only fair.

With her shoulders braced on the squishy mattress, she turned her head to the side and licked the protrusion of his anklebone. She studied the light brown fur sprinkled over his calves and knees—anything to distract herself from how vulnerable she’d be in a moment.

Isabella reached behind her, tucking her fingers beneath the waistband of her pants. She slid the fabric over her ass to her knees. The scrap of her pink bikinis wouldn’t provide much coverage from his greedy stare. She wiggled out of the confining fabric. Razor’s groan encouraged her to go for broke, shedding her snuggly shirt as well.

The chill night air swirled between her legs and over her breasts. Nothing could extinguish the flames raging there. He’d have a perfect view of her silhouette in the scattered yellow light of the streetlamp outside.

“Fuck, yes. More perfect than I imagined. Izzy. So beautiful.” His reverent whispers dripped with desire she longed to satisfy. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard. No more stalling, princess. Look at me. Take whatever you want.”

She drew a shaking breath then pivoted, kneeling so their legs alternated, one of her knees on either side of his muscular thigh.

“Oh, my God. You’re
huge
.” Before she could stop herself, her fingertip ran the length of his thick shaft. The steely flesh covered in soft skin jumped beneath her light contact.

A strangled gurgle from Razor had her freezing in place. His fist knocked against the mattress as he battled for control. Finally, he answered. “Average.”

“I don’t think so.” How could anything larger than two handfuls fit inside a woman? If he told the truth instead of being modest, things with Malcolm had been far worse than she’d realized. But she’d heard there were alternatives. “James? Even if Malcolm couldn’t…”

“Penetrate?”

“Yeah. I could have pleased him other ways, right?” Despite Razor’s patient understanding to this point, she feared he might laugh in her face. “And the same for me?”

“Hard, sweaty sex is great, Izzy. I won’t try to kid you. If I couldn’t get it up, or didn’t have anything
to
get up, I don’t know how that would screw with my mind. But for me, it’s more about who I’m playing with than putting tab A in slot B. I don’t have a favorite position, or orifice, like some guys. It’s all about the moment. Believe me, there are a lot of possibilities when you’re creative.”

“So, I could make you have an orgasm with just my hand?”

She spoke theoretically, but he choked out, “Yes. Please.”

Another step on the slippery slope. Still, how could she reject him? “Tell me what you like.”

“Cup my balls in your palm. Gently.” Razor watched her. He didn’t beg or plead or try to grab her hands or move from where he’d fixed himself. The choice was hers.

The weight of his testicles settled into her grasp. She sighed when they shifted, drawing closer to his body.

“Roll them in your fingers a little.” His hoarse suggestion had her pussy aching.

They played with fire, but she still drew her limits. The line in her moral sand clarified. She would not allow him to make love to her even if she skirted the fringes big time now. Denying the opportunity to experiment a little would have killed her.

“Yes. Just like that. Now curl your fingers around the base of my cock. Grip it tight.”

When she did as he instructed, he bowed beneath her hands. His pelvis thrust, dislodging her momentarily. His legs bent, planting his feet on the bed. The motion wedged his thigh against her soaked underwear.

It was her turn to gasp. Fireworks burst inside her as sensations she’d never experienced overpowered rational thought. Razor’s moan helped return her to reality though her insides had turned to jelly.

“You’re soaked. Steaming. Ride my leg while you stroke me.” Instinct kicked in, putting her body on autopilot while her brain floated in a sensual fog.

Isabella matched the movement of her hand to the rock of her hips, grinding herself on the bunched muscle of his thigh.

“That’s it. Tilt forward if you can. It’ll feel better if you rub your clit on me. Maximize our connection at the top of your pussy.”

She lost track of what her fingers explored in the mindless pursuit of an elusive bolt of lightning, which traveled along her spine when she moved perfectly on him.

“There you go, Izzy. That’s the way.”

She picked up the pace as the pressure built within her.

“You’re a natural. So sexy.”

The sight of his cock tunneling through her fists ratcheted the need higher. When she made a particularly vigorous arc with her pelvis, her hands slipped over the blunt tip of his erection. Slippery cream coated her fingers, easing the glide of her hands.

“Ah! Shit.” Razor’s arms locked straight, his teeth clenched and his head rocked from side to side in the pillow. “Again. Do it again. Squeeze the head. When…”

He trailed off, unable to finish. She thought she grasped the concept. Another spurt of lubrication rewarded her escalating manipulation. Watching him dissolve under her care fed her own arousal until she thought she might die from bliss, if such a thing were possible. Her heart pounded, and so did the sensitive flesh between her legs.

Without shame, Isabella pressed the sweet spot against him. She timed the contraction and release of her fingers to elicit the greatest response from her test subject. His hungry gaze locked on hers when he growled, “Izzy. So close. Can’t hang on. Stop now if you don’t want…”

She wasn’t about to stop for anything.

Instead, she redoubled the most seductive dance of her life. Grander than any symphony, the chorus of pants, moans and moist skin on moist skin created a soundtrack for her to keep time to.

She honed in on the perfect motion to maximize her pleasure. Razor’s impressive cock expanded further, making it impossible for her fingers to meet around his girth. The veins gained definition a moment before he roared her name.