Wild on You Page 11

  She had her glass of wine halfway to her mouth. “You were shot in the …” She smiled and took a sip.

  “Yes, I was.” Risk’s eyes said, Wanna see the scar? But he merely gave her a long-suffering sigh. “The worst part was getting teased by the guys.”

  Their meals were served next. Hers, a beautiful plate of salmon and vegetables. Risk’s, a piece of cow flesh. He cut in to it and let out an “Ahhh, cooked to perfection.”

  She couldn’t help but glance over. It was red in the center, bloody juice pooling on the plate. The aroma hinted at spices and pepper, with a touch of chargrill. He stabbed one piece and shoved it into his mouth. “Mm, mm, mm. Tender. Juicy,” he said around his food. “How’s your fish?”

  She blinked, realizing she’d been too busy watching him to even start. “Delicious.” She took a forkful and ate. Yeah, it was good.

  “I don’t know how you could give up steak, Addie. You know, God put animals on the earth for us to consume. They’re gifts. Just like that fish.”

  The fish that was alive once, too. She wasn’t going to get into the treatment of cows, not at the table with guests who were eating steak as well. “I’ll stick to the fish, thank you.”

  “It’s not good to give up things that your body wants. Craves.” He gave her a look that made her think he wasn’t talking about steak. “The craving doesn’t go away, you know. It sits dormant, waiting until you’re weak. Then it overtakes you.” He stabbed another piece of steak and stuck it in his mouth. His jaws flexed as he chewed slowly, his gaze on hers.

  “That’s why you have to be strong in your convictions when you give up things you know aren’t good for you.” She took a bite of salmon.

  “But you can’t always be strong. No one is strong a hundred percent of the time.”

  A few months ago, she’d cruised past the butcher’s case at the grocery store, rows of deep red marbled steaks calling out to her. The memory of the taste had made her mouth water. Like it was watering now.

  She had given up a lot. Friendships. Relationships. Having a life. She swallowed a piece of salmon.

  Sex.

  She wanted that more than a taste of steak. Damn. Giving up everything had worked fine all these years. She’d blotted out that need for it and hadn’t even indulged in looking. Except for that film about the male strippers and those salad-dressing ads where the guy kept losing his shirt. Sometimes she’d backed up the DVR to watch it again.

  And now Risk had come in and … unblotted it.

  He gave her a slow grin that twined right to the core of her. “You want it, don’t you?” he said in a low voice meant just for her.

  The wine must have been getting to her, because she almost nodded. Okay, she wanted it. Not the steak. Well, maybe the steak a little, but she wanted Risk. A lot.

  “Absolutely not,” she said with as much conviction as she could muster and tucked in to her fish with abandon.

  The steak smelled good, but so did Risk. Now it was some woodsy cologne that made her think of hiking trails, canoe rides … and sex.

  Sex in a canoe. Or just off a hiking trail, tucked in a copse of saplings, his arms sliding over her derriere, his mouth covering hers—

  “Ma’am, are you finished?”

  A man’s voice shoved her right out of the fantasy, and she came back to the present, where the waiter’s hand hovered over her completely empty plate. “Yes, I’m quite done.”

  Risk had cleaned his plate, too, and he looked immensely satisfied. She liked that expression on his face. Like he’d just taken her in a canoe in the middle of the lake, with the sun slanting down—

  “A penny for your thoughts,” he said, soft and husky right next to her ear. “ ’Cause you look like you’re having some good ones. Are you thinking about a big, fat, juicy steak?”

  A big, fat, juicy something. She cleared her throat. “Dessert. I’m thinking that I want something sweet in my mouth.”

  “Mm, me, too.”

  She had to stop drinking this wine, because he didn’t seem to be talking about food any more than she was.

  “More wine?” Risk asked, tilting the bottle toward her glass.

  No, no more wine! “Yes, please.”

  After he poured, he read the label. “I’m not much of a wine kind of guy, but this stuff isn’t bad.” He held his glass up in a toast. When she reluctantly raised hers, he clinked them together. “Every day brings new beginnings.”

  She couldn’t help grinning. “And crazy surprises.”

  “You noticed.” He looked pleased as he took what she suspected was a pretend drink.

  “I like it.” Especially since he was one of those crazy surprises. She took another sip, feeling that warm buzz flow through her.

  Slices of chocolate mousse cake were set in front of each person, except the gluten-free lady, who got ice cream.

  Risk leaned close to Addie. This time he smelled like chocolate. “I’m not sure you can eat this. It’s made from moose.”

  She playfully smacked his arm. “No one keeps me from chocolate.” It melted on her tongue, sweet and rich. Didn’t chocolate have endorphins, some kind of chemical that made you horny?

  Oh no, she was in trouble.

  On second thought, it was something that made you happy. That was why people ate it when they were heartbroken. She hoped it wasn’t the horny thing, ’Cause she already had enough of that going on.

  She leaned close to him this time, her lips brushing the shell of his ear when she whispered, “If you were my boyfriend, what exactly would you do to me behind these drapes to make me pant and moan? I’m just … curious. You know, the educating thing you were talking about earlier.”

  He gave her a wicked grin. “I’d have to show you.”

  “It’s not like we could actually go behind the drapes. They’re right next to the wall. It would be rather obvious. Just tell me.” To fortify her canoe fantasies. It had been so long since she’d had sex, she wasn’t sure she could fill in the part between the kissing and the sort-of satisfied feeling afterward.

  His hand curled over her thigh beneath the table. “It’s a show and not a tell kind of thing.” He moved higher over the silky fabric.

  “You wouldn’t dare. Not with all these people right here.”

  “Oh, doll, what did I tell you about daring me to do something?”

  Heat uncoiled deep in her tummy. “I wasn’t daring you, exactly. Just pointing out how crazy that would be. How … impossible.”

  “Sounds like a dare to me.” His hand slid down to her knee and slipped beneath her dress. The feel of his warm palm on her skin jolted her. Then he moved up. “The servers can’t come up behind us because of the wall,” he whispered, heat engulfing her ear. “The tablecloth is hiding what I’m doing. Not impossible at all.”

  “Risk,” she whispered but wasn’t sure if it was a plea for him to stop … or to continue.

  “Yeah, baby,” he said, louder this time, giving her his full attention. His fingers found the edge of her panties, sliding back and forth just beneath the edge. “You need something?”

  She could only give him a long, slow nod. Even as a logical part of her brain screamed no. His hand slid beneath her panties, cupping her. A pleasurable warmth washed over her as his fingers nestled in her hair. He moved back and forth in a slow rhythm, his fingertips barely sliding over her throbbing clit. She pulled in a breath so suddenly that she started to cough.

  “Are you all right, dear?” the lady across from her asked.

  “I’m fine.” Addie chugged half the glass of wine and calmed her cough reflex.

  Risk continued moving, his finger sliding over her in slow circles. She realized she was still holding her fork—clutching it, really. Chocolate cake was not interesting anymore. She set the fork down; otherwise, she was sure she’d bend the damned thing. Or drop it on her plate. Her heart did a little pitter-patter thing, making it hard to breathe.

  When Risk withdrew his hand, she thought he’d come t
o his senses. Her body was not happy about that prospect. No, it’s good. Sane. But he slid to the side of her panties and jerked his finger. She felt the scrap of fabric fall away.

  Oh my God, he’d just torn off her panties. Right there in the dining room of this lovely mansion. She might have worried about them falling to the floor, where a server would pick them up, thinking they were her napkin. Except that Risk was pulling her leg over to his thigh so that her legs were spread. When the air hit her, she realized she was wet. What was she, some wanton hussy?

  Now that she was closer to him, he could make her crazy without moving his arm in any obvious way. He continued using his right hand to eat while it looked like his left hand was resting on his lap.

  Oh, but it wasn’t resting. His hand slid down her inner thigh, slowly, agonizingly making its way back to her apex. Hurry up, dammit.

  Yep. She was a wanton hussy.

  His fingers found her again, fluttering over every part of her at once. A symphony of sensations flowed through her, warm honey and hot lust. He was sliding leisurely over her folds. Everyone at the table receded into a haze. The orchestra became muted noise. He dipped one finger into her opening, pulling it nearly all the way out, then inserting even deeper.

  “Coffee, ma’am?” The voice drifted from some distant place.

  “We’re good, thanks,” Risk said, looking every bit like a man simply enjoying the evening. With a little of the cat-who-ate-the-canary look going on.

  Oh, she was so good. And while he was stroking inside her, his thumb began sliding against her clit. The dual sensations rocked through her. Her fingers curled into the tablecloth; she was having trouble breathing. She was going to fall apart right there in a roomful of people. With her father two tables away.

  She had to stop. This was madness. “Zucchini,” she uttered on a breath, giving him a stern look. “Zucchini.”

  Then she realized everyone at the table had heard her.

  Risk didn’t stop moving that wicked hand of his as he addressed the puzzled faces. “She craves the weirdest things.” He turned to her. “We’ll get some zucchini from your garden when we get home.”

  She slapped her hand down on his thigh, gripping it hard and giving him an imploring look. Intense pleasure vibrated through her. Her breaths were coming in short pants.

  “Addie, what do you grow in your garden?”

  The question floated above her for a moment, then slowly penetrated. “Pardon?” she asked, trying to focus on the lady across the way, who was waiting for a response.

  “Besides zucchini. I have a small garden … should have seen my tomatoes last year … radishes …”

  The words became a buzz as pleasure overtook Addie. She tilted her head back, fixating on the crystal chandelier as her entire body quaked. The orgasm rocked through her like a freight train. “Oh my God!” shot out before she could restrain herself.

  “Addie gets very excited about radishes,” she heard Risk say. Bless him. And curse him!

  The woman looked a little surprised. “And zucchini, apparently.” She smiled. “It’s good to see a young woman so enthusiastic about vegetables.”

  Her husband patted her leg. “Remember how excited you used to get when the first vegetables of the season started growing.” He turned his attention to Addie. “This must be your first garden.”

  She pulled her leg back as the aftershocks pulsed through her. “Yes, it’s definitely a first.” She fanned her face. “It’s warm in here.”

  The microphone squawked, and she heard her father’s voice. “I hope you all enjoyed dinner. Someone seemed to enjoy it a lot more than the others.”

  The crowd tittered, and Addie flamed once more. Had the whole room heard her come? She didn’t dare look at Risk, keeping her gaze on the small stage.

  “As you know, my wife, Carol, started this dinner years ago in an effort to bring like-minded people together. I think it would be appropriate to ask my daughter, Adeline—Addie—to come up and say a few words.”

  All moisture fled Addie’s throat. She blinked as the group applauded and started looking around for said daughter.

  Her.

  She was going to have to say a few words to this gathering when she had not one brain cell left. She pushed to her feet, and her torn panties dropped to the floor. Risk snatched them up and tucked them in his pocket.

  No brain cells and no panties!

  On wobbly legs, she made her way around the tables to the front, where her father gave her a peck on the cheek. He whispered, “Clear up the zoo misunderstanding while you’re at it.”

  She stepped up to the podium and stared out at the sea of people. Normally she had no trouble talking to crowds or cameras. But all she could see was Risk, off to the side, looking sympathetic.

  “Thank you all for coming.” It was certainly my pleasure to come tonight. She gave her head a little shake to throw out those kinds of thoughts and talked about her mom’s passion for philanthropy. Thank God her Animal Hugger persona stepped up and started rattling off what her organization was up to—minus the tiger-stealing attempt and threats to her life. She ignored the way the air flowed freely all around the still-throbbing, heated part of her, and ended with a succinct rebuttal of the wild accusations against her.

  Her legs were rubbery as she made her way back to the table. Risk was applauding. “Nice recovery.”

  “Did I make any sense up there?”

  “Perfect.”

  As she glowed under his compliment, it hit her: This was why she didn’t get involved with men. She’d lost sight of her goals—to meet people who could support her organization or help her pass legislature.

  No, you pretty much lost your mind.

  And it had felt so good. “We can’t do that again,” she whispered as her father wrapped up his talk and invited the guests to mingle.

  Risk rubbed the tips of his fingers together. “Don’t be so negative. I could get you to come three or four more times.”

  Her body shivered at the thought, but her mind had taken over firmly. Nothing like being thrown in the spotlight to chase away both the afterglow and the wine buzz. “The only reason that happened was because you got me tipsy.” She brushed her hair back from her face. “I can’t believe I did that. Or that you did.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “The wine wasn’t the only reason.”

  Before she could argue further, her father walked over. “You seemed a little distracted up there, but you did a good job.” He turned to Risk. “And you must be making my daughter feel very safe. She looks …” He studied her for a moment. “Content. I’ve never seen her like that, with a glow on her face.” He patted Risk’s shoulder. “If you have something to do with that, keep it up.”

  “Yes, sir.” When the general moved on, Risk turned to Addie, who was totally thrown off by her father’s comment. “You heard him. That was an order.”

  “You’re impossible. Just … impossible.”

  “Addie, you know better than to utter those words to me. Because I make the impossible happen.”

  Chapter 9

  Risk sat back in the rocking chair on Addie’s porch, his feet propped up on the rail. His cold bottle didn’t contain beer, like Saxby’s and Knox’s did. He was on duty. They hadn’t turned on the light, so they could see the surrounding yard better. Only the spill of moonlight illuminated their silhouettes.

  “Reminds me of old times,” Sax said, tipping back his bottle. “Sitting outside, with the moon giving the landscape that weird two-dimensional look, making sure no nasty bastards are sneaking up.”

  Knox was quiet, as usual, staring off a thousand miles away. If he was troubled by his divorce, he hid it well. Then again, he’d always been in the shadows, even before they’d started killing people.

  Risk drank his bottle of cherry soda, the sweetness prickling down his throat. He wasn’t in the mood for reminiscing about the good old days. “It’s nothing like old times.” At the moment, he was all right with that. May
be at peace for the first time since the mission had gone awry.

  Sax chuckled. “I guess not. Guarding a vegetarian activist. That’s priceless.”

  Hadn’t he thought the same thing? “Yeah, priceless.”

  Addie had kept Risk at arm’s length the rest of the evening and had retired early. Yeah, they were definitely a dangerous combination. He’d never done anything like that, gotten a woman off in a roomful of people that included her father. Hell, what was he thinking?

  That she needed to get off. And that he wanted to be the one to do it. He was glad Sax and Knox had decided to hang out for the night instead of flying back to Miami. It allayed any temptation Risk might have to discuss with Addie what had happened. Or to have a repeat performance in private.

  “She’s a sweet number,” Saxby said.

  “Don’t even go there.” The order had come out a little harsh, and Sax would no doubt pick up on it. Even Knox pulled out of his thoughts and glanced over.

  Sax lifted his hands. “Whoa, dude. Don’t want to tread on your territory. I was just sayin’—”

  “Well, don’t say. She doesn’t need some guy fucking with her head. Or any other part of her body.” Including him. “She’s only interested in her organization.”

  Sax laughed. “I think you’ve got a hard-on for her. Now, that’s priceless. Risk wants the one woman who’s not interested.”

  The old Risk would have relished telling them about his accomplishment that night. The outrageousness of it would floor them. But it was too personal. No, he’d keep that to himself, along with the fact that he did have a hard-on for her. And the panic on her face when her father had said how contented she looked with him. Risk thought that had rocked her more than the fact that she’d had an orgasm in a crowded room.

  He definitely would not divulge that he had that scrap of silky fabric tucked into his pocket. Maybe it was a bit sick and twisted to be moving the fabric between his fingers and remembering how her breath had hitched when they were still on her.

  Knox’s feet hit the wood deck as a sound split the night air. “What the hell is that?”