Veiled Seduction: Veiled, Book 2 Read online

  She kept her head bowed and studied the white tile of the floor. Her hair slipped down to shield her even further.

  She counted his heavy, uneven footsteps as he limped closer to her. All of a sudden, she felt his fingers hard against her chin. With a slight jerk, he brought her face up to meet his eyes.

  She’d expected shock, irritation, confusion, and dreamed of reciprocal lust. But all she could read in his gaze was anger and…disappointment? “What the hell, Maira?”

  She trembled, wishing she could put her shirt back on, but at the same time relieved to finally have it all out there. Literally. “I-I want you.”

  His hand moved from her chin to cradle her head. His grip wasn’t particularly hurtful, but she knew she couldn’t get away. His laugh this time wasn’t the slightest bit amused. “You too? This, I never would have expected.”

  Some of the dazed fog cleared from her mind. “What?”

  His smile was so hard, she blinked in surprise. She’d never seen this side of Sasha. He was intense, yes, but always friendly. “Do you want to offer to suck my cock like my neighbor did? Or perhaps you want to tell me I can tie you up? Or maybe you want to tell me how much you like threesomes and you’ve always had a thing for me?”

  She didn’t know about the threesomes thing, but the first two scenarios made her knees weak—wait, his neighbor? It was as if he’d splashed cold water on her. She scowled. “Which neighbor is this?”

  He shook his head, his eyes turning black. “You’d be surprised how many women would love to lay down for someone because the news calls him a hero. I just never thought you’d be one of them.”

  “What? No. You’ve misunderstood…”

  “No, you’ve misunderstood.” He pressed his lips to hers. The shock of him kissing her had her going still in his grip. Instantly, both his arms came around her, and she heard the clatter of his cane on the floor as he leaned more heavily on her. He deepened the kiss, taking advantage of her surprise to slip his tongue into her mouth. He rubbed it against hers, angling her head so he could taste her even better.

  When he ripped his lips away, they were both panting. He stared at her with angry eyes. “You know, I turned the other women away, but I wonder if I should bother now. You’re clearly hot for this.”

  She was hot for him. She had been since she first met him. “Sasha, we need to talk.”

  He talked over her as if she wasn’t even speaking. “It’s been a while for me, so I might be a little rough. You may want to brace yourself.”

  She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, he startled her by picking her up and spinning her around. The kitchen whirled, and then she felt the hard wood of the breakfast table against her ass. “Your leg…”

  “My leg isn’t what’s hurting right now.” He silenced her with another kiss.

  So this was what a punishing kiss was, she thought dazedly. Huh. Where was the punishment?

  He urged her legs wider, crowding between them. Dimly, she felt his hand pushing her skirt up until it was crumpled around her waist. With one hand on her bottom he scooted her closer to the edge of the table. Through his sweatpants and her panties, she felt the thick length of his cock pressing against her, alternately relieving and building the ache she’d been carrying for years.

  He left her lips to nip and lick his way down her neck, tilting her head to get better access to her flesh. When he opened his lips and sucked, she gave a little cry.

  “Is that one of your sweet spots?” he murmured against her skin, and then repeated the action, drawing ever harder, not giving her a chance to respond verbally. Instead she wrapped her legs around him, locking them together at the small of his back. Her panties were already damp as her body readied in anticipation of taking that thick, hard cock nudging against the folds of her vagina.

  He grunted, drew her even closer, and continued blazing a trail down her chest. His tongue came out to flick against the residual cherry filling on the upper slope of her breasts. “My favorite,” he muttered. With a hard jerk, he had her bra lowered, her breast spilling out. The nipples were already hard as stone. “More cherries.” He drew the bud into his mouth, his cheeks flexing as he sucked at it, lashing it with his tongue.

  She moaned at the onslaught of sensation. God, it felt so good. This was what she had been missing. She lifted her hips, dying to just get a little bit closer, press against him a little harder. He scraped his teeth against her nipple and then sucked it again, soothing and inflaming her all at the same time.

  And then…then it was all gone. She lay there, panting, the air wafting over her damp nipples. She opened her eyes, confused.

  Sasha stood between her spread legs, looking down at her. His face was expressionless, belying his obvious signs of arousal: the red cresting his cheeks, the hard brown points of his nipples, the baseball-bat-hard length of his cock tenting his pants. “I’m giving you one last chance to say no. Otherwise we can finish this in my bed.”

  She could have sworn she heard her heart cracking, fracturing in her chest. Suddenly she felt naked and exposed and…ashamed. God, so ashamed.

  What had she been thinking? That sexing him up would really lead to him realizing they were perfect for each other and should live happily ever after?

  Sex cures all. News at ten.

  He didn’t want her, really want her, not the way she wanted him. Sure, he might have sex with her right now, but he was so inexplicably furious with her it would mean nothing to him. And in the end, it would destroy her.

  She shook her head and raised her body off the table. Without looking at him, she adjusted her bra. She heard him walking away and then back. When he extended the crumpled cotton of his shirt, all she could do was stare at it. “It’s cleaner than your shirt,” he said gruffly.

  Of course. She couldn’t walk past the reporters with the wet and filthy silk of her tank top underscoring her vulnerability. Facing them at all should have been abhorrent to her, but even that gauntlet didn’t seem that challenging right now. It would get her out of here, right? She took the T-shirt with shaking hands and drew it over her head, uncaring of the smear of cherry across the front.

  He held out his hand to help her off the table and she almost laughed at his misplaced chivalry. Instead of taking it, she hopped off and steadied her knees to keep from buckling to the ground.

  It took every ounce of dignity to lift her chin and look him in the eyes. She nodded once. “I’m sorry.”

  She was almost out of the kitchen when his whispered reply reached her ears. “Me too.”

  When Sasha heard the closing of the front door, he turned around, lifted his good leg and rammed his foot into his breakfast table. The little wooden dinette slammed over, one of the legs breaking off. He staggered, his balance off, but managed to steady himself.

  Satisfying, but not nearly as satisfying as listening to what his brain and heart were telling him to do—chase down Maira and ask her what the hell she’d been thinking. The only thing that stopped him was the show it would put on for the news crews outside.

  Damn her to hell.

  Sasha’s chest rose and fell as his disillusionment threatened to overcome him. The throbbing in his leg and ribs was incidental. He didn’t care what other women did, but Maira…he’d thought Maira was special.

  He studied the food on his island, her cheerful basket nestled amongst the foil-covered pans. In reality, she was no different from the other women who’d come crawling out of the woodwork to throw themselves at him as soon as he’d become mildly notorious.

  He’d thought the hospital had been bad enough. He hadn’t been left alone for a minute. Not that he hadn’t entirely been shocked by that. When a cop went down, every available hand came running. It felt like everyone from the captain—who surprisingly enough, had not reamed him out for his reckless actions, but instead shook his hand and told him they would talk later—to beat cops had stopped by.

  It had been the odd reactions of some of the women, from t
he nurses to coworkers he’d barely ever spoken to, that had surprised him and made him long to escape.

  Of course, then he’d had to deal with the neighbors and downright strangers who had come by, offering food and…more. The casseroles they came bearing were accompanied by naughty words whispered in his ear. After the first couple, he’d stopped opening his door. That hadn’t stopped the ones who had snuck around to his back door. And the messages on his voicemail. He blew out a breath. The reporters and news stations were only part of the contingent hassling him. Strange women had also taken to calling him and propositioning him with things he hadn’t even thought were physically possible.

  Other men might have found it titillating. But he wasn’t other men. He’d never found cop groupies particularly sexy, and he couldn’t find anything appealing about a hero groupie either.

  How could Maira, of all people, be just like them?

  Lavender and capable hands, soft kisses over his face, her voice tenderly murmuring…

  Sasha set his jaw. That had been a hallucination, maybe a dream brought on by stress and longing. There had been nothing tender or loving about her stripping her clothes off for him out of nowhere.

  He’d wondered, when he first saw her through his peephole, what was up. She’d been wearing her hair loose, a shiny fall of black down her back. Her lips had looked slick, as if she’d applied some sort of gloss. Her eyes were lined with kohl, and they looked dark and mysterious.

  Plus, she’d been revealing more skin then he’d ever seen her show off. The red tank had brought out the highlights in her dark hair, her toned arms left bare. The denim skirt had been short, hitting at mid thigh and showcasing a long expanse of tanned brown legs.

  God, he loved those legs.

  Idiot that he was, he hadn’t even considered that she’d been seduced by his new image like the others. He’d been so pathetically happy to see her. He grimaced as he limped his way to the living room and sat on the couch. Lifting her had been a mistake.

  His erection, though, didn’t care about any pain in his leg. His cock hadn’t displayed so much as a twitch of interest around those other women. Let Maira strip her top off in his kitchen and then grind against him on the kitchen table, however, and he was ready for a party. He shuddered and pushed his hand below his loose sweatpants to curl it around his aching cock. Just once. He’d fantasize about this woman just once. Hell, the few times he’d done it before, it had been rushed, in his dreams, accompanied by the slight tinge of guilt over thinking of his friend in such a way.

  Now, though, she’d thrust herself front and center into his fantasy, literally in the flesh. He didn’t have to sneak the occasional guilty look and wonder what she looked like under those baggy cotton scrubs. She’d emblazoned herself in his mind in Technicolor. Christ, her full breasts were in perfect proportion to the rest of her long, strong body. They’d spilled out over the top of that black lace bra. Her skin color was naturally darker than his everywhere, but not her breasts and belly. The heavy mounds and slight roundness of her stomach had been pale and soft.

  He stroked his cock rougher, twisting just under the head. He swallowed, still able to taste her nipple in his mouth. She’d been so sweet, a mixture of cherries and her own unique taste. He should have pulled his sweats off right there and stroked his cock between those luscious breasts, dragged it down her stomach, yanked the black silk panties off and…

  With a hiss, he came, his orgasm long and potent. He gasped when it was over and rested his head against the back of the sofa.

  One last time.

  He’d forget her now. Her appeal had been her direct honesty, her intelligence, her sweetness, not just her looks. He wasn’t a man who could be controlled by his cock. If his brain wasn’t into a woman, he simply couldn’t work up the energy to want her. Plus, he could hold a grudge like no one’s business. His family might call that a flaw, but he considered it a blessing.

  Yeah. He’d forget her. That was that.

  Chapter Four

  Sasha couldn’t get the damned woman out of his mind.

  He’d thought of her strong features and mobile mouth as he’d tossed and turned in bed all night.

  He’d dreamed of kissing up her toned legs as he worked some therapy on his bad leg in the afternoon.

  He’d imagined her licking his belly as he showered and dressed.

  He’d fantasized about her long, strong body as he’d tried to avoid backing over a reporter with his truck.

  He’d tasted her nipples in his mouth as he made an abrupt but legal U-turn to shake the persistent cameraman behind him.

  Bad enough if he was just thinking about Maira sexually. But no. By the time he was sitting on his sister’s couch, playing with his niece’s toes, Sasha had started replaying every conversation they’d ever had.

  “Stop it,” he muttered.

  His niece grinned at him, revealing a row of tiny teeth. “Unca!”

  He smiled back, unable to stay too grumpy with the chortling little girl in his lap. As much as he loved Leyla and Mason, the real reason he hadn’t refused to come to dinner tonight was because of Ash. He’d managed to fend off Leyla since he’d come home, despite her initial alarm over his flight from the hospital and her increasingly demanding phone calls that she be permitted to come over and take care of him. He appreciated his sister’s love, but he’d needed to be alone, with his own thoughts and company for a while. Unfortunately, that meant he’d gone without his niece as well.

  Ash squealed when he pulled her tighter against him in a sudden hug. He gloried in the way her soft little body snuggled trustingly into his. In reality, it may have been only six days since he’d held her last—the day before the shooting, in fact—but it felt like a lifetime. Her pigtails tickled his nose and she leaned back to study him with big black eyes and a toddler’s delight and curiosity.

  His sister entered the room and smiled at them both. “I think it’s bedtime.”

  “Bedtime!” Sasha scoffed and cuddled Ash closer. “I just got here.”

  “You got here over two hours ago. You got to feed her, dress her after her bath, and play with her. Trust me when I say it is most definitely bedtime.”

  He pulled back and studied Ash with a mock frown. “She doesn’t look tired.” As if the baby was in cahoots, she blinked angelically. Her eyelashes were so long, sometimes he wondered how she managed to keep her eyes open.

  “Please. You weren’t here earlier. Her schedule’s been turned upside down and she’s at the point where she’s stupid tired and making Mommy crazy.” Tiny and petite, Leyla perched on the arm of the chair. As frazzled as she sounded, she still looked tidy and put together in a pair of trim jeans and a button-down shirt.

  “Are you giving your mommy trouble, Ash?”

  “Yes!”

  He looked at Leyla, who rolled her eyes. “It’s her new favorite word.” Despite her light tone, Sasha couldn’t miss the slight tinges of blue beneath her eyes.

  A shot of guilt went through him. Of course Leyla was tired. She treated him more like a child than a sibling, a result of losing their parents young. Fretting and worrying were second nature to her, and he’d given her plenty of reasons for both lately. He’d been selfish over the past couple of days, dodging his sister, when he knew it would make her feel better to fuss over him.

  At the very least, he could help her now. “Come on, Ash. Time for bed?”

  Ash knew what bed meant. Her perfectly arched brown eyebrows drew together in a fierce scowl and she shook her head. “Yes.”

  He grinned. Her coloring and delicate size was from her mother, but her contrary nature came directly from her father. “Where’s Mason?” he asked his sister as he hauled himself up from the couch.

  “He’s finishing up our dinner. I can put Ash in bed, why don’t you sit?”

  “No, no problem.” He was relieved when she didn’t object, though managing the toddler and his cane wasn’t the easiest thing to do. He carried his niece down t
he hall until he got to her room. He felt as he always did when he came in here, big and clumsy. Nothing made a man feel more ill at ease than dancing ballerinas, tiny white furniture and all-pink sheets.

  Sasha lay her down on the toddler bed and shook his head when she sat back up promptly. “No, Ash. Bedtime.”

  His heart tugged when she looked up at him in mute entreaty. He knew that Leyla was worried that Ash didn’t talk as much as other kids her age—she went to some Nazi mommy-and-me class where the children hit milestones like genetically engineered robots—but his speech had been delayed as a kid too. Ash was fine. She got her point across when she needed to.

  Giving in, he ignored the pain in his thigh and knelt on the floor to gently tuck her into bed. When her head lay on the pillow, he stroked his hand over the silky curls. His hand alone spanned her entire head.

  It could have been her.

  In a few years, she’d be attending school. She’d be sitting at a tiny desk, struggling to work through her alphabet when some madman could walk right by and open fire.

  Sasha dropped his head and stared at the colorful rug. He’d have to go see a shrink, he knew, department mandated. He’d never admit it to anyone, but he was looking forward to it. He needed someone to help him get the images of the crumpled little bodies out of his mind.

  Yeah, he was no hero. The media wanted to build him up as some selfless, brave guy? His hands had been shaking when he had leveled that gun, his stomach churning. Hell, their county crime stats were generally limited to narcotics, prostitution and burglaries. Very occasionally they had a murder. For it being Florida, a high-crime state, they were in pretty good shape.

  No one could predict the crazies, though. Where they lived, when they would snap. That was the scary part, the part that made life terrifyingly unpredictable.

  A flexing beneath his hand made him look up. He lifted his palm off Ash’s head to discover her sucking at air, her cupid bow’s mouth flexing around an imaginary pacifier. He stroked his finger down her cheek and left the room, careful to leave her door open a crack.