MARRYING MCCABE Read online

  She fished the blanket out from around herself and let it drop onto the floor, then hugged her knees to her chest. "You can go back to bed. I'm all right now."

  "No, you're not." He kept his expression neutral, his voice calm, so as not to alarm her. He needed to be gentle now, to soothe her enough that she would relax with him. "If it helps, we may never have found Jake, but I was part of the team that hunted Harper down. I saw his body. He's dead. I know that doesn't bring your brother back, but Harper and the entire terrorist cell he ran are gone. There was only one guy we couldn't account for, and we didn't expect to find him, because he was a contract hit man and had no known affiliations with any terrorist group. Gray still has feelers out, looking for him, but he doesn't hold out much hope. Those guys work strictly for hire, and they're close to invisible."

  A chill walked down Roma's spine at the matter-of-fact recital. She kept forgetting how close McCabe was to her brothers. In some ways he was so tied to her family, he might as well be family.

  "Get under the covers. I'll get you something to drink."

  He stood, making her aware that he was naked except for a pair of stretchy boxers that clung to his thighs and hugged his muscular butt. As he strode from the room, golden lamplight slid over his broad, tanned back, shadowing the deep indentation of his spine

  When he disappeared from sight, she let out a breath and slipped beneath the covers. She was still dazed by what had happened, the emotional upheaval of the dream and the unexpected gentleness of McCabe's response when she'd braced herself for another rejection.

  Sleepily, she wondered what it would feel like to have him in bed with her. He was big and sleekly muscled. He would be heavy, and hot. A little shudder ran through her, and her stomach contracted around a painful throb of desire. She already knew just how hot. She'd already experienced the heat that poured from him, the disconcerting electrical tingle. She wanted that, still wanted him, despite what had happened before she'd gone to bed.

  A short time later he returned with a glass of milk, then sat down beside her on the bed, quietly watching while she drank. She got the impression that if he hadn't thought she was capable of holding the glass, he would have held it for her. When she was finished, she handed him the empty glass and he set it down on the bedside table. Instead of leaving, he peeled the sheet back and slid in beside her.

  The lamp was flicked off, plunging the room into darkness. His arm curled around her waist, pulling her close. The weight of his arm, the intense heat of his body, shocked her into immobility so that she lay rigid. "What are you doing?"

  "Sleeping with you," he murmured beside her ear. "Relax, I won't bite unless you want me to."

  * * *

  Chapter 11

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  The thunder woke her, low and sullen, vibrating through the darkness and making the night seem even more oppressive, as if the churning power of the storm had sucked up all the oxygen in its path.

  For a hazy moment she wondered why she was so hot, her skin dewed with perspiration, when she was practically naked, with no bed coverings on her. Then she came fully awake. She was lying half on top of McCabe, one leg tangled between his, her head nestled on his shoulder, one arm flung across his chest.

  The steady pounding of his heart thudded in her ear. She could feel the hard power of his thigh beneath her leg, the searing heat of his hand where it rested on the bare skin at the small of her back.

  She rose up and stared down into McCabe's face, aware by the subtle tension in his body, the rhythm of his breathing, that he was awake. Lightning flickered, filling the room with a silvery radiance and glittering in McCabe's half-closed eyes. The hot weight of his hand shifted, glided upward, taking her tank top with it, so that her belly rubbed against his. He pulled the limp cotton from her arms and over her head, his hands returning to cup her naked breasts, his palms hot and rough against her much cooler skin, thumbs rasping across her nipples so that they sprang swollen and erect.

  His thigh shifted, riding up between her legs until hard muscle rubbed against the sensitive, tender folds of her sex, and a moan stirred from deep in her throat. Even with her panties on, the sensation was close to unbearable. The pressure of his thigh was replaced with his hand as he stroked between her legs, rubbing through the damp cling of cotton, his voice low and soothing as she twisted against him.

  He coaxed her up his body until she was straddling him, supporting herself on her hands; then he lifted his head to suckle her, his movements slow and deliberate, almost lazy, the wet pull of his mouth strong, the drawing sensation sharp in the dreamlike well of the night.

  Rain spattered against glass, the drops slow and ponderous, marking out the slow, restless passage of time as she was caught and held by the rough heat of McCabe's hands, his mouth, the pleasure that jerked through her in waves.

  Abruptly, his hands closed on her waist and she found herself lying on her back, his solid weight pressing her into the mattress as he settled between her thighs. The hard jut of his sex prodded her soft folds through the barrier of their clothes, shoved at her entrance.

  "If you want me to stop, say so now," he said in a low voice.

  For answer, Roma pulled his head down to hers. He groaned as she kissed him, and a shudder moved through his body, filling her with a sense of amazement at just how much she could affect him.

  McCabe lifted himself a bare few inches from her, stripped her panties off and shoved his boxers down, then reached for something on the bedside table. She heard the rustle of foil as she pulled his mouth back to hers. The weight of his body settled on her, and she felt the blunt satiny shape of him prodding between her folds, the pleasure so exquisite she bucked against him.

  Abruptly, the broad head of his sex lodged in her entrance. There was a moment of utter stillness, then McCabe shuddered, groaned against her lips and plunged inside her, the intrusion so thick that she froze, her whole body stiffening at the immensity of the thrust, the shock of penetration.

  With a muffled curse McCabe pulled free, rearing back on the bed.

  She had a moment of stunned realisation as she saw the swollen jut of his sex, saw him rip a foil packet open and smooth a condom down the length of the shaft.

  His shoulders were broad as he loomed over her, the muscular lines of his body as powerful and sleek as a big cat's as he reached between them and fitted himself to her entrance. "I'm sorry if that hurt," he said low and rough. "I promise I'll make it as easy as I can."

  She tensed at the burning pressure, the sense of impalement, as he pressed inward and abruptly breached that first tight constriction. He stopped, chest heaving, gaze locked with hers; then with one heavy shove he was inside her.

  They stayed like that for endless minutes as she struggled to adjust to the muscular thickness of him forging deep in her belly. She felt smothered and hot, her skin welded slickly to his wherever they touched, but the shattering intimacy of what McCabe was doing to her held her.

  Rain pounded on the window in solid sheets, but the breaking storm didn't bring any relief; the atmosphere was moisture-laden and murky, settling like a damp shroud so that every breath was an effort. Lightning flickered through the room, outlining McCabe's shoulders, gleaming with sweat, the stark line of his cheekbone, the barbaric lash of the scar. Her gaze fastened on his, and a tingling chill quivered along the length of her spine. His eyes were glittering hot, utterly aware, as he reached between them and rubbed the swollen, taut flesh just above where he penetrated her. He stroked once, twice, his fingertips dragging over the acutely sensitive bud, and she arched at the hot shock of her climax, crying out wildly.

  He began to move as she lay beneath him, limp and dazed by the power of her climax. She heard his voice, low and rough, cajoling, and realised he wanted her to wind her legs around his waist.

  The different angle relieved some of the rasping pressure, and he was moving more easily now. He dipped and took her breast in his mouth, and the hot, stirring pleasure gripped h
er again, pushing her over some invisible edge so that she moaned and lifted her hips to meet the plunge of his, her fingers tangling in his hair, gripping him tight, as he moved to her other breast.

  The tension coiled and built on endless waves of heat until she was dazed, all the breath pushed from her lungs. He bit down gently, and her climax hit her again. He shoved deep in that same moment. Her whole body quivered at the shock, her legs slipping limply from his waist. One big hand gripped her buttocks, held her locked hard against him as he shuddered against her. She felt the muscular pulsing spasms start deep in her belly, had a moment of startled recall. McCabe had stopped to pull on a condom, so he wasn't naked inside her. There was no chance of pregnancy, because that intimate part of him was sheathed in latex and wasn't actually touching her; then there was only the steady drumbeat of the rain, the dizzying, suffocating darkness, and the burning awareness of McCabe still on top of her, the alien, throbbing pressure where he still penetrated her.

  McCabe watched Roma as she slept. He should ease himself out, get some sleep himself, but he wasn't going to. He knew that if he withdrew for any length of time, he wouldn't be able to penetrate her again tonight, and he was still hungry, still heavily aroused. He was going to stay on top of her and inside her as long as he could.

  She had been a virgin. His jaw tightened.

  And he'd damn near made her pregnant. The magnitude of the mistake he'd almost made alarmed him. He'd lost control. He'd had the condom in his hand, but he hadn't wanted to use it. He'd wanted to be naked inside her, and when she'd shoved against him, he'd given in to temptation and had slid inside her. The pleasure had been so acute, he'd almost lost it completely.

  It was male and primitive, dumb-ass stupid, but he still wanted to slide into her naked, still wanted to pump his sperm into her until he made her pregnant. He guessed that was what made the world go around. Getting Nicola pregnant had certainly changed his world once, although that had been a genuine mistake, his mistake—trusting to a contraceptive pill. Since then, he'd always travelled with a supply of condoms, and he would never have imagined that he would consciously tempt fate by having unprotected sex. He'd worked too hard, hurt too hard, to let his life be pushed off course by the whim of sexual need.

  Grimly, he withdrew, dispensed with the used condom, sheathed himself again and gently slid back, smooth and deep. Her muscles gradually relaxed around him, and he began to move, unable to remain passive until she woke. He felt fierce, possessive, and completely unsettled by the need that burned through him. He was grasping for a measure of control, and for the first time in his adult life, control was eluding him.

  She must have slept. Roma woke, drowsy and exhausted, to find McCabe moving over her. She was vaguely aware that he'd remained inside her as she'd slept, that he'd only removed himself to sheath himself, to pull on another condom, then he'd slid into her again. This time the glide of penetration was smoother. The climax sneaked up on her, slow and hot and endless, shimmering through her until she grew disoriented, unsure if she was awake or dreaming.

  It was still raining as she drifted in that curious limbo. The steady drumming muffled the sounds of the city, created a drugging sense of intimacy, so that she had the oddest sense of being cut off from the rest of the world, isolated and enclosed in stifling shadows, too tired to move.

  McCabe lay sprawled between her legs and off to the side, dozing, but still lodged firmly inside her. The dense heat of his big body blasted her, and wherever they touched, her skin was flushed with heat and slick with perspiration. Sleepily, she examined the quivering leap of excitement in her tummy every time she consciously registered the raw animal intimacy of having McCabe on top of her, inside her.

  The initial pain seemed hazy and distant now, obliterated by the hot, endless wash of pleasure. She was fuzzy on how many times they'd made love. Maybe it had been more than twice. She decided she was actually getting used to having McCabe inside her, despite the fact that the first time had hurt.

  She drew one leg up to ease her back. Her inner thigh rasped against the powerful line of McCabe's thigh. Experimentally, she contracted the muscles between her legs, clasping him more tightly. The warm, tingling throb sharpened, spread, so that her nipples tightened. She felt McCabe stir and thicken in response, his sex prodding deeper.

  His hand glided up from her belly to her breast, a sleepy, lazy touch that made her want to stretch and rub herself against him like a contented cat. Dimly she became aware that he'd propped himself on one elbow and was watching her as he played with her breast, his eyes a narrow glitter in the darkness. He caught one nipple between his thumb and forefinger, making the throb between her legs more insistent.

  Her breath came in sharply, and she voiced the thought that hovered at the edge of her consciousness. "What made you change your mind?"

  Her eyes flickered wide at the unfamiliar sound of her own voice, husky and faintly slurred, as if she was drugged by the sweltering heat of the night, held in thrall to the man lying over her. Abruptly, the strangeness of what was happening swept her.

  "I couldn't stand not having you."

  The words were low, matter-of-fact, like a dash of cold water in the thick heat of the room, intensifying the disorienting strangeness of lying naked beneath a man she'd met less than twenty-four hours ago.

  He shifted more firmly over her, dipped and took her nipple into his mouth. The wet rasp of his tongue made her arch helplessly, and the moment of disorientation spun away. Her fingers sank into his hair, holding him against her, as he continued to suckle her breasts. This time he didn't move between her legs, simply held himself deep, anchoring her solidly beneath him while she shivered and arched, desperate for the aching hot glide of his sex, and enduring the spasm of pleasure every time he used the edge of his teeth.

  The tension low in her belly grew sharper, so that she clenched and throbbed around him, lifting her hips in mute frustration while he played with her breasts, until in desperation she grabbed his head and pulled his mouth to hers. He muttered something savage. His hips jackhammered as he shoved deep, and heat burst through her in dizzying waves.

  She awoke several times to find McCabe sliding in and out of her, but her memory was vague, muddled, as if the thrusting had been prolonged and had stretched over a long period of time. McCabe had kept her spread and beneath him the whole time. She felt stretched and achey in an unfamiliar way, her body leaden with exhaustion, yet she was curiously contented. The night had changed her in a basic way, so that she'd become utterly used to McCabe's touch, his weight and the male scent of him, the peculiarly animal comfort of continued penetration.

  The next time she woke, the room was bright with sunlight.

  "All right?" McCabe asked in a low, dark murmur.

  He was sprawled next to her, propped on his side, one hand curved, warm and heavy, around her breast. Sometime in the night he'd pulled the sheet over them both, so that it draped his hips, leaving his torso bare. The broad, muscled expanse of his chest, with its dark sprinkling of hair, was subtly shocking in the light of day, bringing home the raw physicality of the night. She felt stiff and sore all over, her muscles aching in odd places. "Sore."

  "I'll get you something for that. You're going to need it."

  His hand slid down over her belly, between her legs. She flinched. She felt tender and swollen, but she opened for him as he pushed the sheet away and let him gently examine her, so used to him touching her intimately, she didn't even think of protesting. Despite her soreness, the glide of his fingers made her shiver inside and her breasts tighten in anticipation.

  His head lifted, and his gaze narrowed on hers. His hand was still between her legs, cupping her possessively. She felt the gliding stroke of his finger as he slowly penetrated, and her eyes closed, her breath catching in her throat.

  When her lashes lifted, he was watching her with a heavy-lidded intensity she'd come to recognise. The sheet had fallen away from his hips, so that his genitals were pla
inly visible, and her eyes widened at his size. His arousal jutted bluntly from between powerful thighs, the shaft thick and heavy. It was no wonder she was sore. She'd seen male genitalia in magazines and books, a couple of foreign films, but she'd never actually seen a fully erect male up close, and last night she'd only caught glimpses in the dark. Her heart pounded as he leaned down and kissed her, his tongue delving with a leisurely familiarity as he continued to stroke between her legs, inserting a second finger so that she tensed at the fullness of penetration, a muffled moan drifting from her throat.

  He pressed gently with his thumb just above her opening, so that she arched and clung to his shoulders as she clenched helplessly around him.

  When he lifted his head, his eyes burned a hot blue. "I'll go shopping for lubricant this morning. I'm not waiting days to have you again."

  Before she could answer, a buzzing sound took McCabe's attention.

  He glanced at the bedside clock. "That'll be Bunny."

  Easing his fingers from her, he flipped the sheet back and strolled, naked, from the room, calmly ignoring his arousal, all his attention abruptly focused on his daughter.

  Roma heard the murmur of his voice as he picked up the call in his room, then, a few minutes later, laughter. She lay, still and silent, her body heavy, head vaguely swimmy with exhaustion, still throbbing and tingling from his touch.

  He didn't stroll back into the room with the phone, as she expected, but stayed talking in his own room. As the minutes ticked by, her skin cooled so that she drew the sheet up to cover herself.

  Her eyelids drooped. After a few seconds she drifted into a light doze, but despite her tiredness, she couldn't sleep. She felt restless, unsettled, and … shut out.

  Her eyes flickered open, and she frowned. After the hours they'd spent locked together, she'd assumed McCabe wanted closeness. Unconsciously, she'd been waiting for him not only to stroll in with the phone, but to get back into bed and cuddle her while he finished the call. Before the phone had rung, he'd been completely absorbed in her—if she hadn't been so chafed, he would have been making love to her.