More Than Strangers, page 9
Keeping one hand at her lower beck, he pressed the other between her legs. He probed her with his fingers and felt her clench around them. With a few more flicks of his tongue, her entire body spasmed.
*
Nulli sighed. Her muscles felt like mush. It was impossible to move. She felt Jason’s weight pressing down on her. She opened her eyes to meet his hazel gaze.
Mesmerized, she lifted her hands and rested them against his chest. His skin was damp with sweat. His muscles bulged. His breaths were harsh. She could feel his heart pounding against her fingertips. Without thought, her thighs parted so he could nestle between them.
He drew her lower lip into his mouth. He sucked and bit until it felt swollen and numb. His hands were everywhere—milking her breasts, spanning her waist, kneading her bottom. She flattened her palms against hard muscle before tracing each ridge with the tips of her fingers. Looping her arms under his, she clung to his broad shoulders as he sucked burning marks on her neck.
Each unconscious writhe brought her body against a wall of strength and heat. The feel of skin against skin heightened her need to have him inside her. Her arms dropped. She clawed at the crisp sheets when he moved to lavish attention on each of her breasts. Her hips lifted in an invitation he refused to accept, and the empty ache grew into a burning fury as his teeth tormented one nipple and then the other.
She needed to feel him slide into her. She needed him to fill her. She spread her legs farther even though he made no move to give her what she wanted.
He traced the underside of each breast with his tongue. He sucked and bit her sensitized skin as he drew a line from her rib cage to her navel. Then she felt his tongue probing her once more. She panted her frustration, her hands clenching over cloth as she struggled to crest a new high. She closed her eyes only to see red and white shadows as an invisible thread wound tighter and tighter inside her.
She drew her legs up and wide, her knees bending to accommodate the breadth of Jason’s shoulders. Her toes curled and dug into the mattress. He cupped her bottom and lifted. He stimulated her clit before pressing his tongue inside her, alternating between the two pleasure points until desire was a foggy haze. She could no longer remember where she was or how they came to be together again. All she knew was he was here—with her, beside her, inside her—and it was all that mattered.
Incoherent pleas escaped her lips until something snapped. Ecstasy crested a second time. Her body jerked violently, unraveling the sheets as her legs straightened and her back arched. Her lids lifted, but for countless breaths she saw nothing but white.
When her eyes finally focused, she saw Jason’s face. His neck muscles were corded, his jaw was clenched, and his eyes were dark and hooded. His breath came in hard, uneven pants. She felt something hot and hard probing her swollen folds. Before her mind registered what it was, her hips lifted in silent invitation.
He pinned her wrists against the coverlet. His mouth closed over hers. He pushed inside her. He distracted her with one hungry kiss after another as the heated lance breached and moved slowly but relentlessly deeper. While her mind registered the discomfort, her legs spread to accommodate his girth. Coarse hair grazed her skin as his body slid over hers. She could feel the muscles on his chest and abdomen ripple over her as he moved. Her hands strained against his hold, but he held her in place.
He relinquished her lips and lifted his head. Their gazes met and locked. In response to his silent query, she made a barely perceptible nod.
He impaled her. Pinioned against the mattress, she couldn’t move. He pulled out before pushing into her again. Her thighs parted even more, and the next time he entered her the ridge of his member brushed over her clit. She cried out. After coming twice, any contact there sent pleasure and pain coursing through her body.
He repeated the motion, delving deeper each time. He filled her, stretched her, and claimed her. She was a captive to his pleasure, able only to accept every hard thrust. All she could do was shift her hips to meet each impact. The torture was exquisite.
It was a matter of time before the stimulation led to a slow burn at the apex of her opening. As he continued to pound into her, the steady warmth turned into pulsing heat. She whimpered when it became too much.
“Thank God,” he groaned as she approached the brink. His movements became frenzied. He buried his face against the side of her neck, muffling his harsh, guttural cries. She gave herself to the scents and sensations, the tangling of limbs and the feel of tensing muscle. Her thighs closed against his torso as his hips ground into her. The pressure sent her over the edge. Her mind went blank just before his body collapsed over hers.
Chapter 9
“Have we met before?” Nulli asked the gray-haired pilot as she walked up the dimly lit winding staircase toward the hotel rooftop helipad.
Tom Allen smiled. Jason had introduced them five minutes ago, and she had disliked the man on sight. “I’m sure I’d remember a pretty face like yours.” The more he spoke, the less she wanted to talk to him.
His teeth were yellow. She guessed his lack of dental hygiene was the result of too much smoking since the smell of cigarettes formed an aura around him. His overtanned face had the texture of worn leather. Feathery wrinkles surrounded his eyes and the sides of his mouth. His ill-fitting blazer looked like it hid a potbelly. He lacked the casual assurance Jason and Dan wore like a second skin. Given a choice, she wouldn’t want this man to have anything to do with her protection.
“Jason said you own a private security company. What’s it called?”
She turned to face the man and saw his eyes narrow. “World Protective Services. I’m sure a sweetheart like you has never heard of it.”
There were several problems with his brush-off. For one, she didn’t like it when random men called her a sweetheart. It was a sign of condescension more often than not. She was more concerned because the name of his company sounded eerily familiar. But this helicopter was the safest means to get her from this hotel to the airport. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.
The elevator had gone up to the seventeenth floor. She now knew the reason for what seemed like an odd choice. If someone was going to construct a building that high, they might as well up the count to an even twenty. In the case of this hotel, the top three floors were accessible only through a hidden stairwell.
Jason and Dan trailed a few steps behind her. Tom Allen opened the door to the rooftop. She peered through. It wasn’t as dark as she thought it would be. There was plenty of light pollution despite the electricity and natural gas shortages this country faced. They were about a dozen yards from the helicopter.
This ride would mark the end of her ordeal if everything went according to plan. She could board Zahra’s private jet and be on her way to Dubai once she reached the airport. She had plans to return to Pakistan one day. Right now, she couldn’t be more eager to leave.
Something didn’t feel right. Wiping her damp palms against her jeans, she tried to dismiss her racing heart as a bad case of nerves. Perhaps because this escape seemed so anticlimactic, her subconscious was convinced the danger wasn’t over. She hadn’t exactly been adept at detecting life-threatening situations thus far. It reasoned she would also be bad at determining when she was safe.
But she couldn’t shake her sense of unease. She tried to pinpoint the moment she started getting goose bumps and came to a disturbing realization. Tom Allen gave her the creeps.
The sound of rapid footsteps echoed in the stairwell. She turned to see Dan and Jason unholster their weapons. Multiple shadows decorated the dingy walls.
Jason spared the pilot a single glance. “Strap her in and make sure we’re ready to fly.”
Tom Allen grabbed her arm and pulled her through the doorway. They raced across the rooftop as loud cracks filled the night. When they reached their destination, she turned to check on Jason. He and Dan were a few yards behind her. They reloaded before emptying their clips at the men piling through the natural choke point. Bodies dropped like flies. Her heart pounded. It was difficult to breathe. Though she intellectually knew Jason was more than capable of gunning their attackers down, visions of him taking a bullet made her falter. She bit her lip and slammed a virtual door on the paralyzing fear. This wasn’t the time to panic.
“Get in.” The pilot lifted his arm so she could brace herself and climb up. She hesitated. Instinct commanded she stay behind. Pieces of a puzzle came together, and the picture wasn’t pretty.
She had never been adept at muting her facial expressions. With a scowl, the pilot’s fingers formed a vise over her upper arm. Her face was level with his chest. She saw him reach inside his jacket. His free hand closed around a dull black grip. He looked over her head—his attention on Jason and Dan.
He pulled out the pistol and straightened his arm. His forefinger rested on the trigger. She didn’t think. Grabbing his wrist with her free hand, she yanked it down as hard as she could. She simultaneously rammed her body into his chest and remembered to scream.
A popping sound preceded a sudden tightness in her stomach. Her nose caught the scent of lit matches. It felt like there was a stitch in her side—the kind she got after long bursts of running. It was odd since she hadn’t engaged in strenuous physical activity. A flurry of loud cracks echoed behind her.
Feeling suddenly weak, her grip loosened. The pilot yanked his arm free and lifted his weapon once more. She moved to intercept him, but another burst of sound startled her into stillness. Tom Allen staggered backward. His hand opened and the pistol thudded on concrete. A dark stain spread from the center of his chest.
Dan moved into her line of vision and bent down to retrieve the fallen weapon. She frowned. Where was Jason?
An arm circled her waist. She breathed the familiar scent of hotel shampoo and minty shaving cream. A chest—warm and solid—was a wall against her back. Her muscles relaxed, and she leaned into his strength. She felt a dull ache on her lower back. Her knees buckled. The world tilted. A moment later, her butt was on the ground.
“He was going to shoot you,” she murmured as Jason supported the back of her neck and lowered her until she lay flat. Their gazes met. For the first time in memory, she saw terror reflected on his handsome face. She needed to reassure him. “Don’t worry. I think Dan shot him. You’re safe.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Jason place a pistol on the floor. It occurred to her his friend might not have been the one who fired.
He took both her hands in his and placed them on the left side of her stomach. The contact hurt, and she resisted. His voice was low, commanding, and laced with panic. “Nulli, I need you to press down.”
Her chin met her chest as she tried to look at her torso. She couldn’t see clearly, but she felt liquid ooze between her fingers. Jason’s words cut off her thoughts. “Don’t panic. The faster your heart rate, the more blood you’ll lose. Try not to breathe shallowly. Press down as hard as you can. Follow my directions and you’ll be fine.”
She filled her lungs and did as she was told. He turned her so that she was lying on her side with the wound elevated. She felt his fingers digging into her back. It hurt like hell. She must be bleeding there too.
Leather-soled shoes entered her line of vision. A red nylon bag followed. She heard the sound of parting plastic and tearing cloth. The lower half of her T-shirt was ripped off.
A stray piece of gauze fell by her face. Something was shoved inside the wound on her back. She bit down to muffle her cries, but the torture continued. When it stopped, she felt tape seal over her skin.
Jason turned her onto her back. She deduced they were about to repeat the same process on her stomach. Their gazes met. She was trying to be a trouper, but the pain was getting to be too much. The edges of her vision blurred, bleeding inward until it was impossible to focus.
“Don’t fight it. I’ll keep you safe. When you open your eyes again, I’ll be here.”
His reassurance made her relax. She hadn’t known she was keeping a death grip on consciousness until she let it go. The world glazed over before going dark. His words were the last thing she remembered.
* * * *
“What do you mean I can’t see her?” Jason hissed through clenched teeth. He looked down to find his hands in fists. His legs were spread in a combative stance. He took a deep breath. This doctor was just the messenger, and he wasn’t doing himself any favors.
Dark, kind eyes met his. The young woman’s returning smile was sympathetic but firm. “You are not a family member, Mr. Reynolds. Ms. O’Hara’s father insisted—”
“I don’t care.” With great difficulty, he kept his voice just above a whisper. “I brought her here. You met me before you took her into surgery.” He flexed his hands before closing them again. “You came out midway to tell me she’s going to be fine.”
The doctor patted his arm. “You don’t need to worry. The surgery went very well.”
A weight lifted off his chest, allowing anger to push to the forefront. “But you won’t let me go into her room.”
She shook her head. “Ms. O’Hara is not conscious. It will be many hours before she is. Until then, she can’t make her wishes known. Her father just arrived, and he insists you stay outside. All hospitals, even ones in Dubai, respect the wishes of the patient’s next of kin. I strongly suggest you go home and get some sleep.”
It was the last thing he wanted to do. “When she wakes up, she’ll expect to see me. I promised her I’d be there when she opens her eyes. It’s my right—”
“Unfortunately, boyfriends don’t have legal rights.” The doctor’s tone held a hint of disapproval. Beneath the glitz and glamour, this was still a conservative Muslim country.
“I’m not her boyfriend. We’re—”
She lifted a dark brow. He wasn’t helping his case.
The truth hit him. The word boyfriend didn’t come close to describing what he was. Their relationship wasn’t something either of them would choose to end. How he felt about Nulli would never change. She had risked her life to keep him safe, and he would return the favor without hesitation.
In this moment, he would give anything to be by her side.
“Is there a problem, Dr. Aziz?”
Jason looked past the white-coated lady to meet hauntingly familiar dark blue eyes. Even without the red hair and beard, he would have recognized the barrel-chested man. The textile mogul may be reclusive, but his picture had made it to the cover of Forbes a number of times throughout the decades. He had a wide nose, thick mouth, square jaw, and very much resembled a bulldog. Nulli clearly got her looks from her mother’s side of the family.
The surgeon shifted her feet. “Not at all, Mr. O’Hara. Mr. Reynolds was just leaving.”
“The hell I am.” These were extreme circumstances. He didn’t have a choice but to be difficult. The doctor rolled her eyes and walked away. She was a smart woman.
David O’Hara responded to Jason’s glare with a deep, throaty chuckle. “I’m surprised you didn’t take the excuse to leave.”
Jason crossed his arms. His silence was a question.
In a thick Irish brogue, Nulli’s father explained. “Zahra tells me you’re the security consultant who got my daughter out of a very dangerous situation. You have my sincerest thanks, and I plan on expressing my gratitude in a monetary fashion as well. Your work is done, boy. You’re free to go.”
Jason felt his jaw clench. “I have a right to see her.”
“Do you now?” The man’s hands lifted to rest on his hips. “What kind of right might that be? She’s never mentioned your name. When did you first meet?”
“Six months ago. We’re very well acquainted,” Jason bit out.
David O’Hara rubbed his beard. “I see. Unfortunately, I don’t know you from Adam. Considering recent events, I’m of a mind to be suspicious. Get some rest, and change your clothes. When she wakes up, I’ll ask if she wants to see you.”
Jason crossed his arms. “If you speak with Zahra, she can—”
“Nothing she’s told me warrants you hovering by my daughter’s bedside,” the man snapped.
Jason’s molars ground together. “I saved her life.”
“Which is what you were paid to do,” the man countered. “Tom Allen was paid by the Public Health Partnership to do the same. From what I’ve been told, he discovered Nulli’s connection to me and tried to kidnap her for ransom. You can understand why I no longer view men in your field of work in a positive light.”
“I’m the one who made sure Tom paid for his lapse of judgment,” Jason reminded the man. He didn’t fear reprisal. As far as the local government was concerned, a few thugs and a foreigner went missing in Karachi. Such things didn’t even warrant a headline in the local newspaper.
David O’Hara crossed his arms. He had a mulish look on his face. It reminded Jason of his daughter. “I don’t give a horse’s arse. Now get.”
The man was being ridiculous. But since the only option was putting Nulli’s father in a choke hold, Jason’s choices were limited. “I promised her I’d be there when she woke up.”
David O’Hara lifted his bushy red eyebrows. “Then it’s a promise you’ll break.” Before Jason could open his mouth to argue, he was facing the back of the man’s head.
Chapter 10
“What the hell are you doing here?” Jason asked as he climbed into Dan’s two-seater Audi R8.
It didn’t take his friend long to floor the accelerator. The man factored speeding tickets into his annual budget. It was lucky Dan was born with deep pockets. “Zahra called and said you might need a ride—or an intervention. I was looking forward to witnessing a fistfight between you and the textile tycoon.”
Jason grunted. He had come too close to losing his temper for the comment to be funny.
Dan rocketed onto the six-lane highway. A speeding camera’s flash went off. “A call came into the office while you were solicitously hovering by the operating room. Safe Harbor won the Department of Defense contract in Nimroz Province. You’re going to Afghanistan for a year.”
