Rescue Me!

She was awake. And watching him.

HE WAS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL man she’d ever seen.

Tall, strong and muscular. Powerful shoulders. Perfectly proportioned. She could see defined muscles in his legs and chest, even his abdomen. And his chest was covered with a sprinkling of dark hair.

Her heart in her throat, Jen looked up at his face.

He blushed, the reddish hue suffusing his face and neck.

She couldn’t imagine why—until she glanced down at his body again and saw he was becoming swiftly and gloriously aroused. His sex, as impressive as the rest of his body, was lengthening. Thickening.

Again, he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

She’d awakened at the tail end of his shower, coming to consciousness while hearing the steady, soft fall of water. Then she’d smiled seeing how he’d tucked her in while she’d slept. The tenderness and intimacy of the gesture had touched her deeply.

She’d known he was taking a shower in her motel room, and it hadn’t bothered her a bit. She, a woman who hadn’t let her own fiancé touch her intimately until they’d been together for over a year, felt perfectly comfortable with this almost total stranger taking a shower in her motel room while she lay in a queen-size bed clad only in a whisper-thin silk robe.

She didn’t know why, but there weren’t as many barriers between them. Or maybe she did. Maybe she’d gone through most of her life having perfected the rather distant, cool and collected social face and manner that her father deemed appropriate. And maybe she’d set out on this journey to the West Coast because a part of her—the wisest part—knew her life was slowly killing her.

Maybe she wanted to live. To really feel alive. To know what that felt like after having come so close to dying.

But she couldn’t take her eyes off him. That muscular, masculine body. That large, strong erection. When he bent down and reached for his jeans, she said just one word.

“No.”

Though she’d spoken softly, the word sounded loud in the quiet of the motel room. It stilled his movement for his clothing. He looked at her, disbelieving. Puzzled. But also desiring her. He couldn’t hide it any more than she could.

But Jen knew he wouldn’t join her on her bed unless she let him know that was exactly what she wanted. This man, this stranger, wasn’t the type to take advantage of a woman. But she wouldn’t have wanted him or felt as safe with him if he’d been that sort of man.

He hadn’t seemed to register what she’d said, and Jen realized words were not the answer. Actions were. She’d told him, but now she would show him exactly what she wanted.

Sitting up in bed, she slipped the ivory silk robe off her shoulders, letting it slide to her waist. She felt the cool, air-conditioned air in the motel room against her breasts. As she looked down at them, unable to look at him, she felt her nipples harden into tight little points of sensation.

She wet her lips, trying to find the words to tell him what she wanted. Her throat felt dry, constricted with both a sort of fear and an equal amount of excitement. And somehow she knew this was right, knew this was what she wanted and what he needed.

In the end she merely looked up and held out her hand, knowing he could see exactly what she was trying to tell him in her eyes. It had to be there—emotions this strong had to come out somehow. A part of her couldn’t believe this was really happening, that she was making this happen, but a stronger feeling told her that this was right, it had to happen.

The connection, that strange electric sensation when she’d touched his cheek, remained. Slowly he crossed the room. Then he knelt down on the bed as she slid down on the soft mattress, onto her back. She closed her eyes as she felt his fingers swiftly untie the sash of her short robe, then lifted her hips as he yanked it away.

She opened her eyes, watched him as he studied her for a long moment, looking at her body almost as if he couldn’t believe what was about to happen. What had to happen.

Their eyes met. Held. She knew he was giving her one last chance to back out, to reconsider, even though she could see he was poised and ready, tense with need, his sex swollen and full, painfully aroused.

But this was more than mere sex. She was acting on pure instinct, wanting to reaffirm life in the most primal, instinctual manner possible. After coming so close to death, she wanted to feel again, to know she was alive. She wanted to be close to him, as close as one person could get to another.

She wanted to take him into her body and offer him peace. She wanted to fully experience her own sexuality, which had never happened before. And Jen knew it would happen with this man. She felt more when he simply touched her than when other men had been inside her, moving, the sensation not horrible, simply…pleasant.

Pleasant was not a word she’d ever use in connection with her sexual feelings toward this man. It wouldn’t be pleasant with this man, it would be something far more than that.

I want you, she thought, like I’ve never wanted another man in my life. She reached up, her gaze never leaving his, knowing that with a single touch she would set something in motion. Something that felt as if it had always been meant to be. Destiny. Kismet. Whatever you wanted to call it.

One touch. One leap of faith. She only knew she had to take it, because he was making this her decision, he was giving her complete control.

Her hand came up, and it was steady. She touched the side of his face, now smooth. He’d shaved.

At her touch he seemed to shudder, and she saw he’d been holding himself in check for her. She smiled at him, knowing that smile was reflected in her eyes, and he turned his face and kissed her palm.

Sensation, electric and hot, shot all the way through her body. To her breasts, then lower, pooling between her thighs. Making her ache. She’d never felt this way with any other man and knew she never would.

She wanted this moment as she’d never wanted anything else in her life. She was being given something few women experienced in their lifetime and she wanted to take it. Her hand slipped around the back of his neck as she urged him closer, pulled him down on top of her. Their naked skin touched all along their bodies. She barely had time to cry out at the wonder of it, how it felt, before his lips came down over hers. His body covered hers. He moved between her thighs. And she simply surrendered to something that felt so right.

And for the first time since early this morning, that horrible morning when she’d thought she was going to die, Jen felt alive.

4

HE’D NEVER FELT MORE WELCOMED into a woman’s bed. More wanted. When she’d held out her hand to him, looking small and delicate in the middle of the large bed, his heart had opened, started to ache. And feelings he hadn’t felt in a long time had begun their long, arduous climb to the surface.

He’d sensed what she was offering him was more than a mere physical sensation or release. It felt as if he were being handed a lifeline. And he took it. He’d never wanted anything more. He took it and followed her down onto the bed in the middle of the day. Life might be going on all around them, but for this day, this hour, this moment, they were alone in the quiet coolness of this motel room, with just each other and the strong emotion that seemed to flow between them so effortlessly.

When he kissed her, it didn’t seem like the first time, they fit together so well. She seemed familiar to him in the best possible way, and he deepened the kiss, feeling his body quicken, hoping that it would not betray him or shame him.

He wanted her with the intensity of a teenage boy, that strong hunger and desire, but he wanted to give her the skill and knowledge of a man who knew how to love a woman thoroughly. Yet all of his desire, his emotions, seemed to be demanding he get as close as possible as quickly as possible.

He broke the kiss and, though he wasn’t usually a man who talked in bed, whispered, “Your name.” He wanted to know her name.

“Jennifer.” The one word came out on a sigh, so deeply satisfied, and it thrilled him to hear that tone in her voice when all he’d done was kiss her.

“Jen,” he said with a deep sense of satisfaction, and something flickered in those deep blue-gray eyes.

“What is it?” he whispered, looking down at her. His body was pressed into hers, even though he was taking most of his weight on his forearms.

She smiled up at him with a hint of tentativeness. “I like the way you say my name.”

“Is Jennifer better? Jenny?”

“Jen’s fine. You?”

It took him a moment to get that she was asking him his name. “Cody. Cody Roberts.”

There was the slightest flicker of awareness in her expression, and he prayed she wouldn’t suddenly recognize who he was and what he did. He’d had enough of those kinds of encounters—women who slept with him to get close to success or to get a part in one of his films. Or just to say they’d slept with a star. Even a fallen star.

“It feels like…I know the name.”

His whole body tensed.

“It must be because,” she whispered, “I feel so close to you.”

He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to make love to her, to make it good for her, to lose himself inside her. In his experience, you were either attracted to a woman or you weren’t, and he was incredibly attracted to this woman.

“Jen,” he whispered. Then he kissed her.

SHE’D NEVER FELT THIS WAY with any other man.

It wasn’t as if she had a vast amount of sexual experience. She’d had only a couple of boyfriends in college and then Ethan. Ethan, who her father had practically handpicked for her and for whom she had felt absolutely nothing.

Ethan, who was waiting back in Chicago for her, even though she’d broken their engagement and given him back the flawless diamond ring before she’d started on her trip to California and freedom.

Her father had thought she was insane. By implication, so had Ethan. But Jen had known there was something else or someone else out there for her. She’d known that the life she would have had with Ethan would have gone precisely, step-by-step, according to her father’s master plan for an ordered life.

It would have been an emotional jail cell. A gilded cage. And she would have beaten her wings frantically against the bars, and no one would have heard. But the end result would have been the same.

Now she had a chance to fly free. To live.

She was glad as she looked up at Cody that no one would ever know about this encounter. She wanted it for herself alone, didn’t want anyone judging her or giving her any unwelcome and unasked-for opinions.

No one would ever know about the robbery other than the police and perhaps the local news. Certainly no one she knew. She would have this time alone, out of time, all for herself. She would give to Cody and, in giving to him, find out so much about herself.

She’d left Chicago because she’d been afraid she’d stopped feeling anything, and since she’d met this man she’d done nothing but feel.

She touched his lip. “Does it hurt?”

“No.”

She smiled. “Then kiss me,” she whispered. “Kiss me again.”

He smiled down at her, and her heart sped up at the look in those dark blue eyes. “You’re really something,” he whispered, then kissed the side of her neck. “I didn’t come here thinking this was going to happen.”

“I know.” She hesitated. “I didn’t open the door thinking something like this would happen.”

That smile. Devastating. He kissed her temple and whispered, “Sure? Are you okay, Jenny?”

“Never better.”

He laughed, a low, satisfied sound that thrilled her, then she ran her fingers through his hair and gently tugged his head down to hers, his mouth to hers. And then one kiss blended into the next and the next, and her body began to soften, to become pliant and willing and so filled with yearning.

She was more than ready when he touched her breasts, when he moved down and kissed them, took them into his mouth and pulled on them strongly. Almost blind with need, her eyes shut, she arched up against him, all feeling centered where his hands and mouth were touching her.

And she couldn’t stop touching the strong, hard muscles beneath his smooth, hot skin. Her hands were restless, taking him in, learning him, wanting to commit him to tactile memory.

Before, she’d felt a subtle impatience from her partners, as if they felt she wasn’t quite keeping up with them, as if they were indulging her by going slowly. Now she felt as if she were racing ahead of Cody, on fire, impatient for what he was going to do next, wanting more and more and more….

When his hand slipped between her thighs and cupped her, she was almost ashamed at how ready she was. He looked at her as he touched her and saw the bright flush on her face.

“Don’t,” he whispered, sliding back up and kissing her softly. “Don’t go there, Jen.”

Her face was so hot, it prickled. She wasn’t at all surprised he read her mood. That short moment when he’d first come into the room and they’d sat on the edge of the bed had told her he was a sensitive man.

“Don’t stop, Cody,” she whispered. “Please…”

He did as she asked but kept his gaze on her face as she felt first one finger, then a second, gently push her open, move within her, stretching her, readying her—

“Oh!” The sensation that caught hold was a new one, and she looked up at him and saw a smile in his eyes.

“Yes,” he whispered, then kissed her hard, his hand relentless, his fingers so knowing, the sensations so strong, she closed her eyes, tilted her head back into the soft pillow—

And cried out as she came, her thighs falling open in the aftermath, her body first tense and then so wonderfully relaxed. She felt as if she were melting into the mattress as she turned toward him. Her hands trembled as she grasped his hard shoulders, seeking stability after having her sensual foundation rocked.

This was what had been missing. What had seemed like a hopeless amount of work with any other partner had come so naturally with this man.

“Mmm,” she sighed against his neck. Then she smiled as she felt him start to laugh.

“So, I’m funny?” she whispered. She’d never opened the front curtains when she’d first come in, and now with the only light coming from the open bathroom door, the room was dimly lit, like twilight. Not dark but not light either.

“No,” he whispered, pulling her more strongly into his arms. “Not funny at all.”

She opened her eyes and looked up at him. He was studying her with an intent expression on his face.

She touched that strong jawline once again, loving the feel of it on her fingertips.

“Let me give to you,” she whispered.

“It works both ways, Jenny,” he said. “We give to each other.”

“But I haven’t—”

“You will.” He took her hand, guided it right to where he wanted it, taught her how to please him. And she found that it wasn’t awkward as it had been in the past. She wanted to please him, wanted to make this good for him. It thrilled her that she had it in her power to excite him to this extent.

She was practically shaking with reaction when he finally rolled her over onto her back and slid between her spread thighs. And while she’d thought there might be a moment of discomfort when their bodies joined together, when that moment came, her body opened and she accepted all of him in one smooth, hard thrust.

He began to move inside her, strong strokes that seemed to burn their way up inside her, exciting her. She held on to him, grasped his forearms, his shoulders, wrapped her legs around his body tightly because she felt as if at any second she might come apart and fly off their bed.

And again, that racing toward completion, that tightening pressure deep within, then—

She came with a low, anguished moan, and he followed her, finding his own release, pushing into her and then, with strong contractions of his own, finishing.

She felt his muscular chest rising and falling, heard his labored breathing, ran her hands up his damp back and had never in all of her adult life felt closer to another living person.