Rae’s gaze dropped to the line of skin being slowly revealed by his deft fingers. Her own moved to the hem of her sweater, grasped the fabric, and did an equally slow drag up her torso. He forgot to move as the light from the windows highlighted the curves of her stomach, the hollow of her belly button, the soft undercurve of her breasts. But just as she was about to reveal more, the rise of her sweater stopped.

  Saint’s gaze flicked up to meet hers.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” she asked.

  “Forgetting?” He swallowed hard against the rasp in his throat. “I think I forgot my own name, cariño. Show me your breasts.” The word please echoed in his mind as he waited. He wasn’t above begging if he had to.

  Rae sucked in her breath before whipping the sweater over her head. Her bra was full lace, the soft cream a gorgeous contrast to her olive skin in the dim room, but it obscured more than it revealed. He wanted her bare, damn it.

  His sudden ferocity must’ve shown on his face, or maybe it was the growl that escaped him as he planted a knee on the bed and crawled toward her that made Rae laugh. Either way, he was on her in seconds, fists planted at her shoulders, knees straddling her hips. Everything inside him urged his pelvis down, screamed to find the cradle of her mound and get the relief he so desperately needed, but he didn’t. Not yet.

  His fingers met the tiny gold clasp nestled between her breasts at the same time her palms spread across his pecs. The slightest pressure against his sternum stopped him cold.

  “I’m the only one without a shirt here, Saint.”

  The reminder sent another growl through him—it seemed the only way to express the savage hunger ripping at his insides, shredding his control. He backed off long enough to tear at his clothes. In seconds he was naked save for the tight boxers he didn’t dare remove. He crawled back over her, his chest expanding at the feel of her hands stroking down it. Her fingertips grazed his nipples, sending a jolt straight to his gut, and his erection jerked at the impact. Pre-cum leaked from the tip, wetting the cloth holding it tight to his body.

  Just a little bit longer. Keep it together, bro.

  “Rae, cariño, yes. Touch me.” He certainly intended to touch her. He grasped the clasp of her bra and twisted deftly, then jerked the material apart, revealing smooth, full globes tipped with chocolate-brown nipples that had him salivating. He watched her breasts move as she caressed his back, his waist, his ass. The clench of her nails in his flesh brought him closer, and he dipped his head, let his breath wash across her skin.

  Her nipples went tight, reaching for him. He couldn’t resist any longer.

  “Saint!”

  There was something primal about a woman’s nipple in a man’s mouth. That connection to nursing, maybe, although he certainly didn’t feel like a baby as he sucked Rae between his lips. The taste of her, all heat and woman, the feel of her taut nub elongating on his tongue as if begging for more. He sucked harder, his fingers going to the opposite breast to pull and tug at her neglected nipple as her legs crawled up to his waist and clung, forcing her pelvis against his. Scraping his teeth along her sensitive flesh drew a cry of need from deep in her throat as she rolled her jean-covered mound across his erection. His back arched, pushing him closer, getting the friction he so desperately wanted, needed. Giving Rae the same. Her shocked gasp as he bit down gently and squeezed her nipple between his thumb and forefinger turned into the high cry of release as she came in his arms.

  Holy fuck. She was a live wire, and he desperately wanted to be burned.

  “Oh my God.” Rae gasped, staring at the ceiling as her body came down from its high. “I’m so sorry.”

  He sucked hard at her softening nipple, stretching it out as he pulled his head back. When it popped from between his lips, he watched her breast shake and salivated for more. “Sorry for what?”

  “Sorry because that was way faster than I intended it to be.”

  He knelt back on his heels and let his hands make quick work of her clothes. “That’s just the beginning. I haven’t even gotten inside you yet.”

  Her smile had a short edge, as if she thought he was only looking for his own satisfaction now. He wouldn’t be surprised. Very few women that he took to bed expected him to put their pleasure first, much less prolong it with more than one orgasm. It was sad, really—and gave him something to prove.

  A task he reveled in.

  When he got down to her thin lace panties, his impatience hit a high. A rip sounded as his rough handling tore the fabric from her body. Rae gasped, lying naked beneath him, but he didn’t pause until he had his boxers off and his cock in his hand. Only then did he stop to take in the long stretch of her body. Full breasts he already knew overflowed his hands just the right amount. Dark nipples slowly beginning to harden again beneath his stare. A narrow rib cage that flared into womanly hips, giving him just the right amount of flesh to hold on to. Her mound was darkened by neatly trimmed brown curls that made his heart beat faster than it already was, made his fingers tighten to stave off the climax gathering at the base of his cock. He could imagine parting her slim legs, getting his first look at the plump folds hidden between. Stroking his tongue along her opening to taste the tart essence of her most intimate places. His cock thumped in his grip, and he knew the time for looking had better come to an end if he wanted to finish inside her instead of right here, on her beautiful skin.

  “Come with me, cariño.” He rolled, taking Rae with him until she was the one straddling his body now. Stacking the pillows behind his head, he stared between her now spread legs. “I can’t wait, Rae.” His fingers met wet warmth when they followed his gaze. “I need inside you now.”

  He nudged carefully between her folds and slipped a finger into her, testing her ability to take him. Rae threw her head back on a groan. Tight, but not too tight. He let his finger play while he reached with the other hand for a condom.

  Rae clenched down on him when he added another finger and pressed high along her G-spot. “Saint.” She sounded drugged with pleasure. Coming up on her knees, she planted her fists on either side of him and began to rock on his fingers.

  “Oh no you don’t.” He slid his hand away and replaced it with his cock. “Take me, Rae. Take me inside. I’ll please you, I promise.”

  Rae nodded even as a flash of disappointment crossed her pretty face. He grinned up at her and pressed his rock-hard penis at her opening. “Trust me. I won’t leave you wanting, beautiful.”

  Rae moaned along with him as he slid slowly inside. Her body gave way reluctantly, but the thumb he held against her clit had her rocking against him, pressing down more and more to gain the pleasure of that touch. He watched her breathing quicken, matching his. Sweat glistened between her breasts. When he bottomed out, she arched her back and her breasts swayed in front of his face. He caught the nipple he hadn’t gotten to taste yet between his teeth, then sucked it into his mouth.

  A hoarse cry shot from her at the force of his suction. With his hands he urged her to ride him, desperate for the friction, greedy for the flesh he refused to release from his lips. Rae obeyed his silent command instantly, dragging herself up before slamming down with more force than he’d expected. The tilt of her hips forced her clit against his pelvic bone. A hard, breathless “yes” escaped her, and she did it again, slamming into him over and over, desperate to find the high once more. Saint clenched his eyes closed and concentrated on the plump flesh in his mouth, the taste of her skin, and the wet glove surrounding his dick until he felt her tighten on him—tight, tight, tight—and then clamp down in release.

  He was barely a breath behind her.

  When the spasms finally subsided, he realized his fingers were digging into Rae’s hips, forcing her as close as possible as they both milked their bodies for every ounce of pleasure they could get. He slowly eased his hold, then caught his breath as another wave rippled through him. “Rae,” he gasped, trying desperately to catch up on air. Pulling her down to lay atop him, he struggled to find words. “Holy shit, cariño.”

  Her chuckle mashed her breasts harder against his chest. She shivered, goose bumps rising below his fingers as he traced her spine. “Holy shit is right.” She turned her head slightly and brushed her lips across one pec. “Thank you for that, Saint. I—” She sighed. “I needed that more than you know.”

  His words were slow but definite. “I’m happy to oblige. But”—he tipped her head up and stared into her dark eyes—“we’re not done yet. Not by a long shot.”

  Her “hallelujah” was muffled by his languid kiss.

  Chapter Four

  The musky scent of Saint’s skin mingled with sex in the air. She dragged it in, filling her lungs with the memory even as her fingers softly stroked the skin beneath them. For a man this tough, the smooth glide of skin along his abdomen was silk. Except for right below his belly button, where a trail of black hair led down to the covers he’d pushed away in his sleep. She’d remember that trail, this moment very fondly—but she’d gotten what she came for. Fed the very real, very human need to touch another person after months of being alone, separate, isolated. Now she needed to leave.

  So why wasn’t she moving?

  The man beside her stirred, his arm tightening around her shoulders. The hand at her waist clenched as if making sure she wasn’t going anywhere. And lying here, watching him sleep, she wished she wasn’t. She wished she could stay another hour, another day. Spend a few more minutes—or a lifetime—with his hands caressing her and those beautiful hazel eyes holding her captive as he plunged into her body. Hear the hint of foreign spice in his voice as he called her cariño.

  Sweetheart.

  In another place, another life, maybe that would have been possible. But this wasn’t another place or another life, and she wouldn’t put him in any more danger than she already had just to fulfill her own selfish needs.

  Gritting her teeth, she eased away from his warmth. When his eyelids flickered, his full mouth pursing as if to question where she was going, she laid her palm back on his broad chest. “Bathroom,” she whispered.

  Saint’s brow smoothed out, and the breathing she could feel beneath her hand deepened once more.

  She slid from the bed.

  Don’t look back. Don’t look back.

  She gathered her clothes from where they lay, scattered across the floor. The panties were a lost cause. She’d thought all that stuff in romance novels about men tearing off women’s panties was just a fantasy, but it turned out, if the man was strong enough, determined enough, hungry enough—yeah, not just a fantasy. She tucked the material in her fist and carried everything into the bathroom, closing the door without turning on the light.

  Five minutes allowed her a quick clean and dragging on of her clothes, and she was easing the door open again. Refusing to allow herself a look back at the bed, she hurried toward the hall and slid soundlessly through the door. Darkness embraced her as she forced herself forward one step at a time. The scent of Saint on her skin refused to dissipate despite the distance between them and the soap she'd used in the bathroom, calling her back despite her best intentions. Only the fear she'd lived with for the past six months kept her going—through the silent living room, out the apartment door, down the empty hall to the waiting elevator. When she landed on the first floor, she turned away from the brightly lit front entrance and found the back service entry, slipping out into the pitch-black alley.

  Dawn was still a couple of hours out. The shadows hid her well as she stole between the buildings toward the sound of traffic. Being downtown, she'd get a cab easily enough. The room where she was staying—she wouldn't exactly call it an apartment—was too far away to hoof it, but she’d manage. She’d managed much harder things in the past few months. Nearing a side street, she glanced both ways and crossed, avoiding the streetlights and early-morning stragglers for several blocks before crossing to a main thoroughfare. She could see a traffic light two blocks ahead, knew a ride was mere yards away. With another quick glance around, she hastily crossed the street.

  She didn't hear the car accelerate. Didn't sense the danger. After months of being alert, scared, aware of every sight and sound and possibility, she enjoyed the looseness of her limbs and the feel of being relaxed, happy. Satisfied.

  Until a white cargo van skidded to a stop in front of her, the sliding door slamming open. Dark hands reached out. She backpedaled fast.

  And two tons of steel and aggression slammed into her without warning. She was unconscious before her head hit the pavement.

  Chapter Five

  Pain forced her out of the depths of the darkness surrounding her. Not a gentle resurfacing, but a slam into reality that had her whimpering, twisting against whatever it was she lay on, trying to find some ease. Her head, her back, arms, legs—there wasn’t a place on her body that didn’t hurt.

  What confused her was, why?

  Searching her brain didn’t help. She couldn’t remember what she’d done that would cause her entire body to throb with pain. In fact, she wasn’t sure what she’d done last. Or, for that matter, where she was now.

  Open your eyes.

  The whisper tugged at her eyelids—and even those hurt. She felt the crease between her brows as if she was frowning, and then…light. Blinking hard against the brightness, the grit in her eyes, she sifted through the pain in her head, pushing outward, focusing, to see—

  White.

  What the hell?

  White walls. White sheets. White and steel equipment against a white curtain cutting her off from the world.

  An astringent scent filled her nose. Disinfectant and fake lemons.

  She was in a hospital.

  “This is bad.”

  The words came out a croak, the sound reinforcing her thoughts even as the dryness in her throat added to the myriad negative sensations enveloping her body. Slowly, fearing she would somehow rip herself apart, she raised her hands in front of her face. Scrapes, cuts, bandages, bruises. Her hands went to her cheeks without thought—more sore places. More bandages, one as big as her palm on the left side of her head. The tug of a line attached to the back of her hand drew her gaze down her body, wrapped in a flimsy hospital gown that was, no surprise, white, to the sheets gathered at her hips. Rails rose on both sides of the bed, caging her in, the sight registering at the same time that her heartbeat leaped into her throat.

  Caged.

  What was she doing here?

  Searching her memory proved as fruitless as before, but the bed provided an answer: a red call button built into the side panel. Her hand shook as she reached out, the pad of her finger meeting the cool, hard surface, and then the green light blinked on as the pressure activated a call.

  Now what?

  Her frantic heartbeat fluttered like a trapped moth at the base of her neck. Black dots appeared in her line of sight. Blinking didn’t remove them. Shaking her head made them worse. But…

  Pain gathered in her chest and worsened by the second. A hand on her breastbone brought a flicker of thought into the back of her mind.

  Oh.

  She sucked in a lungful of air. The black dots sputtered. Another breath and they disappeared.

  Well at least she had control of one thing.

  She focused on breathing as she waited, the blinking green light a beacon in the long minutes that followed. She didn’t dare move but barely managed to sit still. She needed answers, and right now.

  A squeak outside the curtain—a door on a rubber track?—then the brisk shhhhhtick as the wall of fabric was briskly pushed aside. “Morning, sunshine!”

  The pounding in her head immediately doubled.

  “What…” God, that croak. She tried to clear her throat, and panic surged again when she couldn’t. A shaky squeak escaped.

  The nurse seemed to understand the issue where she couldn’t, moving immediately to a tray on the bedside table and pouring an inch of water into a clear plastic cup. “Here you go, dear. That throat has to be dry after all this time.” The woman tipped the glass carefully toward lips that felt dry, cracked. Just one more place that hurt. “Not too much at first. Four days means you have to take it slow.”

  Immediately water spit from her mouth. “Four days?” she choked out.

  The nurse nudged the cup against her mouth again as if she hadn’t spoken. Maybe what she’d said hadn’t made sense any more than the nurse’s words had. She opened her mouth and let some water in.

  “There, that’s better.” The nurse used a paper napkin from the table to wipe up the mess across her chin and chest. No-nonsense movements of her slender, capable-looking hands. Alert expression in her dark eyes. The woman didn’t look crazy, but her use of the word better suggested otherwise. “It takes time to get those membranes fluid again. Your voice will improve with use too.”

  “Four days?” she asked again, then felt an irrational blip of pride that the words were recognizable this time.

  “We’ll discuss that in just a moment,” the nurse said, voice turning crisp as she proceeded with a short exam, including shining a light in eyes that now had white spots instead of black. The flash made her wince, but the nurse continued as if the response was normal.

  Finally all medical paraphernalia disappeared and the nurse patted down the covers. “Now,” she said, her smile bright even in the stark white room, “can you tell me your name?”

  Of course I can tell you my name. For goodness’ sake.

  She opened her mouth.

  Nothing came out.

  For a second the panic that jumped constantly inside her flared into outright terror—was her voice permanently damaged? God, what if she couldn’t talk? What if something really bad had happened to her?

  Obviously something really bad had happened to her—just look at her body!

  “Miss?”

  She glanced up, a bit wild-eyed, at the nurse beside her bed.