Hard Night Read online

  So she pulled his T-shirt hard and rose up again, hooking one hand around his neck so he couldn’t lift his head, seeking his mouth . . .

  Only to find herself jammed up against the doorframe with both arms above her head, pinned at the wrists by one of Jacob’s powerful hands.

  He gripped her chin hard with the other, giving her an intense black look. “You think it’s a joke?” There was a note in his voice, a certain ferocity that felt like it was stealing all the air from the room. “That I’m saying this for fun?”

  Her heart began to hammer in her chest. She’d seen this side of him before on the odd occasion, when an operation wasn’t going to his liking or he’d been thwarted by something. He’d never lose his temper. He’d only become dark, an intensity gripping him that bordered on savage.

  People called him frightening and yes, when he was like this, he was.

  But she wasn’t scared. Right now, looking up into his face and the darkness in his eyes, she felt nothing but excited. And turned on.

  There was something thrilling about having all that intensity turned on her, and it made her want to test him, see how far he would go.

  Which was probably a really crappy idea. But something in her couldn’t leave it alone. The same thing that loved fighting him and always had.

  Her body knew what to do and maybe it was another of those echoes, a muscle memory, but she let it do its thing, using the way he was pinning her wrists to lift her legs and wrap them around his lean hips. Then she pulled him in tight against her, feeling the hard ridge of his cock press against her aching clit, a delicious flare of sensation like a match being struck.

  “I don’t think you’re saying it for fun,” she said huskily, staring into his eyes. “I think you’re serious. But if you’re trying to scare me, it won’t work. Nothing about you scares me. You being a possessive asshole least of all.”

  He didn’t say a word, his gaze dense as a black hole, sucking in all light.

  She almost stopped breathing under the weight of it.

  Then suddenly he took her chin in his hand once more, and his mouth was on hers, and in that moment she realized just how much he’d been holding back earlier.

  Because this wasn’t a kiss, it was a conquering.

  His tongue pushed deep inside her mouth, taking it as if it were his, exploring like she was new territory he was hell-bent on claiming. And claim he did, demanding and hungry, devouring her as if she were the first bite of food after weeks of starvation. Taking all that feverish heat inside her and building it up into an inferno.

  The taste of him was like nothing she’d ever experienced in her life and she tried to kiss him back, just as starved as he was, but he wouldn’t let her, forcing her head back so he could explore even deeper. He became more demanding, hungrier, biting her, licking her, changing angles, his fingers pressing hard against her jaw as he made the kiss his and her along with it.

  It was like a storm breaking over her or watching a hurricane hit. With the winds roaring in her ears and the rain soaking her skin. Except the winds were the beat of her own heart and there was no rain, only desire, an endless, desperate well of hunger that only he alone could feed.

  She tried to pull against his hold, because she was dying to touch him, but his grip was unbreakable. So she clamped her legs tighter around him instead, lifting her hips against the tantalizing ridge of his cock. She didn’t care if she got off that way, she had no shame where he was concerned.

  Besides, when it came right down to it, this excited her. The storm force of his will, of his hunger, was an insane aphrodisiac. After months of distance he’d finally unleashed himself and behind that enigmatic black gaze lay a passion she’d never imagined.

  She wanted more of it. She wanted it all.

  She bit him, sinking her teeth into his bottom lip as she arched her back, pressing her breasts against the granite wall of his chest. He made a growling sound deep in his throat and then the hand on her chin shifted, moving down to the waistband of her yoga pants. She felt a hard, sharp jerk, heard fabric ripping, and then the material was falling away from her; he just tore it away. He did the same with her panties and then there was nothing between her bare, heated skin and the material of his pants.

  She shuddered as he uncovered her, fabric brushing against the sensitive folds of her sex as his mouth ravaged hers, making her breath come in short, hard gasps. His hand moved again and she heard the sound of his zipper.

  Yes. God, yes.

  Her spine bowed as she wriggled and shifted, trying to push herself against him. Then what little breath she had left went out of her in a rush as she felt something smooth and long and unbelievably hot brush against her stomach.

  His cock.

  Her hips bucked, a blaze of sensation arcing through her as he brushed the slick head of his dick against her clit. She gasped against his mouth, the sound blending with his own rough growl in a vibration that stroked between her legs like a touch.

  He pulled his mouth from hers once more, saying nothing, black flames burning in his eyes, intent written all over his scarred, compelling face.

  “Let me go,” she said thickly. “I want to touch you.”

  But he remained silent, the fingers around her wrists not budging an inch. His free hand went to the pocket of his pants, hauling out his wallet. And then, one-handed, he extracted something from it, leaving the wallet to fall carelessly on the floor.

  When he lifted his hand again, something gleamed in his fingers. A silver packet. Without a pause he ripped the packet open with his teeth, getting rid of it with an easy motion. Then her gaze was drawn relentlessly downward as he began to put the condom on.

  Faith’s breath caught.

  She must have seen a man’s cock before, but of course she had no memory of it and therefore no frame of reference. So there was only Jacob’s. Smooth skin and crisp black hair. Long and very thick, it curved upward toward his chiseled stomach, making her mouth go dry.

  It was as beautiful as the rest of him.

  “Let me,” she panted, watching as those capable, blunt-tipped fingers rolled the latex down, desperate to touch him. “Please. I want to.”

  But again, he said nothing, and once the condom was on, he took her chin in his hand once more and covered her mouth, silencing her with another of those savage, hungry kisses.

  Then all thought vanished as the blunt head of his cock pressed against the entrance of her body and she felt herself stretching around him, impossibly tight.

  She groaned into his mouth, shivering as he began to push into her, sensitive tissues burning at the massive stretch of him.

  The feeling was . . . strange. Intense, almost painful. And yet so insanely good, she could hardly breathe.

  Too good. She was on the edge of orgasm already and he wasn’t even fully inside her.

  She jerked in his grip as he pushed in by gradual increments, so achingly slowly she wanted to scream. Wriggling and twisting, she tried to take him even deeper, feverishly attempting to push herself over the edge.

  But it was as if he was in control of her orgasm and was holding it just out of her reach, giving her nothing but the relentless push of his cock as he pressed her against the wooden frame of the door, his kiss turning slow yet somehow no less savage. She tried to pull away from it, wanting to look down to see what was happening, but he wouldn’t let her, his grip on her unbreakable.

  She pulled harder, feeling like there was no air in her lungs, like she couldn’t take any more of him inside her and yet at the same time wanting more. Wanting that heavy pressure and burning stretch, painful and yet so delicious she couldn’t get enough.

  Then he stopped, so deep she didn’t think she could handle it. She bit his lip again, trying to angle her hips to get some relief, but he remained still, not letting her go, not doing anything but kissing her on and on, now lazy and slow enough that she wanted to weep.

  Only when she was nearly sobbing did he draw his hips back, the sl
ide of his cock the most exquisite thing she’d ever felt in her entire life, drawing it almost all the way out before sliding back in, another slow, relentless glide.

  She cried out against his mouth, the sensation nearly too intense to bear, her whole body shaking under the weight of the pleasure that was filling her. Then his hips flexed and he was moving yet again in another smooth motion, thrusting in and pulling back, deep and slick and so hard she couldn’t stop shaking.

  Her orgasm hit unexpectedly, a white burst of light behind her eyes, tearing a sob from her as it detonated throughout her body, her inner muscles clenching around his cock as she trembled and shook against him.

  And he didn’t stop. He kept on going as if he could do it all day, driving into her, harder this time, faster, slamming her against the wood of the doorframe. Then he changed his angle, so the base of his cock hit her clit every time he thrust back in, changing the aftershocks of her orgasm into pulses of building hunger.

  Jesus. He was going to kill her. She was going to die from sheer pleasure.

  Finally, he took his mouth off hers, trailing it along the side of her jaw and down her neck, his teeth closing on the fragile tendons there, the sharp pain as exquisite as the relentless drive of his cock.

  He released her jaw, gripping the material of her T-shirt instead, pulling at it, jerking hard, the fabric ripping there, too, baring her. He shoved her bra up and aside, his massive, hot hand cupping one bare breast, his palm scorching like a brand against her skin.

  She groaned, then cried out, as his fingers took her nipple between them and pinched, adding bites of pain to the sensations tangling and knotting inside her. There were too many, the pleasure and pain so tightly woven she’d never be able to tell which was which. Not that it mattered when the whole was so much more than she’d ever thought it would be.

  He pinched her once more, slamming back into her as he did so, overloading her nerve endings with so much sensation more light burst behind her eyes. Then he bent his head and that hot, wicked mouth of his covered her nipple, sucking hard, biting with just enough pressure to send her entire central nervous system into the stratosphere.

  She shut her eyes tight as another orgasm crashed over her and a sob escaped her aching throat. Stealing her awareness of anything but the pleasure that blinded her.

  Dimly she was aware of the movement of his hips, picking up speed, slamming her even harder against the doorframe. Of his breath against her breast and the harsh grunt he made every time he thrust in deep. And then his own harsh cry as he buried himself one last time inside her.

  * * *

  Jacob felt like someone had hit him over the back of the head with a brick. No, not a brick. A fucking jumbo jet.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had an orgasm that powerful, that intense. Couldn’t remember the last time he’d given in to his latent possessive tendencies and taken a woman the way he’d taken Faith, either.

  But fuck, the way she’d writhed against him, demanding and hot, trying to take back the control. Trying to fight him . . .

  He hadn’t been able to resist her or his own need for her surrender. And he’d gotten it. Jesus Christ, how he’d gotten it.

  She’d thought he was joking about the things he considered his.

  He wasn’t.

  There had been a reason he’d held back from her all these months and he’d told himself a lot of stories as to what that reason was. But they weren’t the truth.

  The truth was that some part of him knew that once he touched her, that was it. He wouldn’t want to let her go until he’d had his fill. And he’d been right.

  She was his lover now and he was going to make sure he explored every single aspect of her. And he wasn’t going to let her go until he had.

  She’d unleashed him and now she had to face the consequences.

  He lifted his head, looking down at her, examining her flushed face. He’d been rough and demanding, and he’d been fully aware of that. But he’d thought she could take it and she certainly had.

  Yeah, she liked a fight as much as he did.

  Her mouth looked swollen, her blue eyes almost black. It was such a delicious sight though, her pink cheeks and red mouth, and then farther down, the pale skin revealed between the ragged edges of her ripped T-shirt. Smooth and silky, her pink-tipped breasts still glistening from his mouth.

  He let himself look farther, between her thighs to where they were still joined, where soft black hair curled and she was pink and glistening and stretched around his cock.

  It was the most incredibly erotic sight, made even more so by the fact that he was the one who’d done that to her. Who’d stripped her down and gotten her so hot that she’d begged him.

  After years of anonymous hookups this—with Faith—was different. This was more real somehow and certainly ten million times hotter.

  Who’d have thought?

  Yeah, but don’t get too excited. Don’t let it become something more than it is.

  Oh, no fear of that. He knew exactly what this was.

  Hot, raw sex. That’s all.

  He stared down between her thighs, remembering the flavor of her when he’d licked her fluids off his own fingers, salt and sweetness with a maddeningly delicious dark edge.

  He wanted more of that. And he was going to have it.

  “Sooo . . .” Her voice was thick and scratchy sounding. “When am I going to get you with your clothes off?”

  “Good question. Probably when I can trust myself not to ravage you the moment you put your hands on me.”

  A little smile turned her lovely mouth. A very satisfied smile. Clearly, she liked being wanted by him as much as he liked being wanted by her.

  Shit, even now the thought of those delicate fingers touching him the way she had yesterday was enough to make him want to push her against the doorframe yet again for another round.

  But no. Not quite yet. The wood was hard and no doubt her wrists and arms would be hurting from having had them pinned above her head.

  “You did very well holding back yesterday,” she pointed out.

  Slowly he drew himself out of her, liking the way she shivered as he did so, then very carefully lowered her to the ground. “I’ve been in special ops for years,” he murmured. “Controlling myself around one lovely woman wasn’t all that difficult.”

  “Liar.”

  He flashed her a grin, liking her challenge. “Put it this way. It was slightly more difficult than sitting in a box for two days without food or water. Slightly less difficult than a fifty-mile ruck march.”

  “I don’t know if I like being compared to special ops training.”

  “Deal with it, Ms. Beasley.”

  Once she was steady on her feet, he released his hold on her wrists but didn’t let go of her completely. He held them in his hands, chafing her skin to get the blood flowing.

  She leaned back against the frame, watching him sleepily from beneath her lashes. “You called me Faith just before.”

  So he had and that had been very deliberate. He’d wanted an answer from Faith the woman, not the identity of Ms. Beasley that she’d created. Plus he’d never called her Faith before—he hadn’t allowed himself—and part of him had simply wanted to taste the sound of her name.

  But that’s not her name.

  No, but that’s who she was right now, right here with him.

  “So I did,” he murmured. “Don’t get used to it.”

  “Why not?”

  “You’re talking too much.” He let go of her wrists, dealt with the condom into a nearby wastebasket, and then very matter-of-factly, he pulled her torn clothes from her body. “And I’m not interested in chatting.”

  She gave another delicate little shiver as the rest of her clothing fell away, goose bumps rising on her pale, pretty skin. “Well, that’s obvious.”

  He reached for her, lifting her into his arms before she could protest. Her weight was slight, the warmth of her body settling against hi
s chest making him start to harden already.

  Her head tipped back against his shoulder, her eyes still slightly glazed. “I can walk on my own, you know.”

  “If you can walk then I haven’t done a good enough job of fucking you senseless.” He began to make his way toward the bedroom area. “But don’t worry, I’m going to rectify that right now.”

  She gave another of those self-satisfied smiles. “You can certainly try.”

  A thrill went down his spine and he looked down, meeting her glowing blue gaze. “Is that a challenge I hear, Ms. Beasley?”

  “It is.”

  “In that case, I accept.”

  Jesus, this woman. He should be checking his contacts, seeing if any had come back to him about this Campbell guy, or checking in with Isiah. But . . . Well. They could wait a couple of hours. After all, who knew when he’d get this chance again? Her memory might come back at any moment and when it did there was no telling what she might do.

  She won’t want to find herself in bed with you.

  Not if it was his brother she wanted. And that meant that taking advantage of her memory loss in the way he was made him a fucking bastard of the highest order.

  But he didn’t care. He’d wanted her for months and she wanted him, and in this moment she was his.

  Because moments were all he’d ever had back when he’d been a kid and he’d learned to appreciate them whenever they’d come along, few and far between as they were. And now that he was an adult he did the same thing, relishing those instants of satisfaction. Of pleasure.

  And taking them for himself when he could.

  He carried her into the room that she’d chosen for herself, the one with the massive king-size bed, because there was no way he was going to screw her in a fucking bunk.

  Setting her on the edge of the bed, he then went into the en suite bathroom, pulling open one of the drawers and getting out the box of condoms he knew were stocked there—he always kept his bathroom stocked for every and any eventuality—and came back out with it.

  Dropping it on the nightstand, he went over to the bed and stood in front of her. She’d leaned back on her hands, apparently at ease with being naked. Her creamy skin was silky-looking and smooth, but here and there was the evidence of the injuries that had put her in the hospital. Scars from a gunshot wound on one shoulder and what looked like knife cuts on her torso and arms. There were older scars too, from what he had no idea, though if she’d been special ops like he thought, then she must have gotten them on different operations.