“No.” He held up a hand. “Just…no, okay?” Then it occurred to him that maybe he was being overly sensitive. He was tired. His leg was throbbing—the damn thing always throbbed. And he’d been staring at his computer screen for so long, his eyes felt gritty. “I think that’s enough for tonight.” He punched the power button on his monitor and watched the screen go black. “We’ll pick up here in the morning.”
Delilah opened her mouth like she wanted to say something more, then closed it again, shaking her head. Finally, she declared, “I’m going to start rifling through the accounts you hacked, see if anything buzzes my radar.”
He realized his tone was more cutting than he intended by the furrow of Delilah’s brow when he said “Suit yourself,” but he couldn’t make himself apologize. Those twin pits of self-pity and remorse were back. They’d sprouted thick branches that threatened to strangle him as he shoved to a stand.
“Samantha…” He bent to whisper in her ear, brushing a lock of hair behind the delicate shell. “Time to call it a night.”
She came awake with a start and a curse. Only Samantha. Just like that, his frown turned upside down. And some of those dark emotions that had taken root were ripped out and tossed away.
“Did I fall asleep?” She blinked at him blearily.
“Sawed a few logs. Nothing major,” Delilah assured her.
In the light of Delilah’s computer screen, Ozzie saw Samantha grimace. “I know I snore.” Adorably, he thought. You snore adorably. “Sorry.” She gazed around as if disoriented. “So did you find anything?”
“Not yet,” he told her. “But it’s enough for one night. I need to get some sleep.”
“Oh good.” She nodded and pushed to a wobbly stand. “Take me to bed, Goose. Or lose me forever.”
Top Gun. She quoted Top Gun at him.
His heart clenched. She was everything he’d ever hoped for. Everything he was doomed never to have.
*
“Your room or mine?” Samantha waggled her eyebrows at Ozzie. They were standing in the dark third-floor hallway, so she figured the effort was wasted. Still, she hoped he could hear the eyebrow waggle in her voice.
“You’re tired,” he said. “Let’s agree on a rain check.”
She had been tired. Downstairs, after hours of watching his fingers fly across not one but two keyboards—he really is a Whiz Kid, a hacker extraordinaire—she’d been exhausted. But the journey up the flight of stairs, not to mention all the thoughts of what was to come once they were in one of the bedrooms, had her awake. And horny.
“Damnit, Ozzie,” she hissed. “Not again.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized how selfish they were. How selfish she was. She wasn’t the only one to have been through the wringer these last couple of days. For heaven’s sake, he’d been tasered, accosted, and cuffed by the police. He’d wrecked his motorcycle and then spent forever on his computer trying to help her out, trying to solve her mess. The poor man had gone above and beyond. And here she was, wanting something more from him. Namely, his hot bod.
“Sorry.” She winced. “After everything you’ve done, you’ve got to be exhausted. And here I am—”
“Being wonderfully, delightfully you,” he interrupted her. His warm hands found their way to her hips. His hot breath tickled her ear when he leaned down to whisper, “Sweetheart, I’ll never be too tired for you. I just thought—”
“See…” She cut him off. “That’s the problem with you brainy sorts. You think too much.” Then she grabbed his ears and kissed the bejeezus out of him right there in the hallway.
*
Ozzie kicked his bedroom door shut, wincing when it slammed with a loud bang.
Shit, I probably woke up the whole place.
That was the last rational thought he had, because Samantha shoved him until his back hit the wall. Then she was on him, hungrily kissing him like the breath he fed her was the only thing keeping her alive, and she wanted him, needed him to keep kissing her forever.
I’m game for that!
“Ozzie.” When she whispered his name, her voice thick with passion, heat washed from the top of his head to the tips of his biker boot–clad toes.
Her lips melted into him, her tongue licking flames into his mouth. She was on fire, a living conflagration threatening to burn him up. And oh! He was game for that too.
For long moments, he allowed her to run the show. Let her skim her hands all over him, her fingers testing the muscles of his shoulders, his chest, his stomach as he simply held her steady, cupping her face in his hands. Then he couldn’t stand it any longer.
“I need you naked,” he whispered against her lips.
He needed to feel all that was her pressed against all that was him. Needed no barriers between himself and the woman who had stolen his heart just by being her marvelous, smart, unpretentious self.
Without waiting for her permission, he pulled her shirt over her head. Her bra quickly followed. She was as eager to move things along as he was. She yanked off his T-shirt and carelessly tossed it aside. The glow of the crescent moon filtered in through the panes of the leaded-glass window, providing just enough light to show the frenzy of their fingers as they worked at each other’s jeans and boots.
When Samantha stepped out of her panties, Ozzie was ready for her, waiting to take her in his arms. “Come here,” he said, or growled. That was really the only way to describe the tires-crunching-along-a-gravel-road sound of his voice.
She lunged at him. Lunged. Pressing herself so tightly against him that it was as if she wanted to crawl inside. Little did she know that she was already there.
Already in his head.
In his heart.
“So soft,” he whispered. “So perfect.”
They were finally skin to skin, heart to heart. Nothing between them but the sweet sound of his name on her lips. And when she kissed him again, there wasn’t even that.
Once again, her hands were everywhere, as if she was trying to memorize every bulge, every dip, each individual texture. And he understood. He wanted to touch every inch of her. Kiss every inch of her. And then when he was done, he wanted to start over from the beginning.
“Bed,” she said when he moved his mouth to her ear, nipping the delicate lobe.
“As you wish,” he whispered, quoting The Princess Bride, her favorite movie.
He realized his mistake when she stiffened, her graceful muscles locking into place.
Fuck. “As you wish” was Wesley’s way of telling Princess Buttercup he loved her. So in effect, whether Ozzie had meant to or not, he had just declared his love to Samantha.
By the change in her, it wasn’t something she expected to hear.
“Anything you want, you just have to ask,” he quickly added, hoping she would assume his earlier words were purely coincidental. It worked. A little shudder ran through her, and she was back to kissing him like crazy.