Delly's Last Night (Go Get 'Em Women) Page 4

  She shook her head and the tears spilled at the movement. “I don’t want to fuck a stranger. I want to fuck you.”

  “You don’t know me,” he ground out, even though his heart was aching.

  “I know everything I need to know and the more you say no to me, Neal, the more I want you, because that makes you exactly the sort of man I want in my life. If I can only have you for a few hours, I’ll take it.”

  Neal stepped back. Away from her. Away from temptation. “I can’t give it to you,” he said. “Especially now. If I do, then I won’t be that man.” He allowed himself one more kiss. “Goodbye, Delly Alexander. I won’t wish you good luck. You don’t need it.”

  He got the hell out of the alley before his resolve exploded and they both lived to regret it. He tried to pretend he couldn’t hear her crying.

  Chapter Four

  Golden, Colorado. The next day.

  “Stop! Stop!” Olivia screamed over the music and it switched off with an electronic squawk.

  Delly picked herself up off the mat and dusted chalk from her hands.

  “Where on earth is your head today?” Olivia demanded, striding over to where Delly stood. Olivia never took any notice of the “no heels” rule for the floor mat areas. She wore stilettos and high heels and refused to remove them for anyone. She stopped in front of Delly and put her hands on her silk clad hip, pushing the fur coat aside. “You’re completely not there. You’re just going through the motions.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not on your period, are you?”

  Delly sighed. “No. I’m just tired, Olivia. I didn’t sleep much last night.”

  “Why not?” Olivia asked, a furrow between her brows. Delly mentally braced herself for the cross-examination to follow. She had never really got used to the complete micro-management of her life that came with Olympic-level training, even down to the food she ate, and orchestrating her periods with the use of birth control pills to avoid competition days. By confessing a lack of sleep, she was waving a red flag. Now Olivia would want to monitor her diet and water intake for a few days, log her sleep hours, and rearrange her accommodations for better sleep inducement, and any number of possible adjustments to ensure Delly’s sleep went uninterrupted from now on.

  “I can probably answer that question.”

  It was Neal’s voice. Delly spun to look behind her, where the voice came from.

  Neal stood in the arena, leaning against the balustrade just past the gate that gave access to the stands. His arms were crossed.

  And he was smiling.

  He lifted a hand when she saw him. A wave. “I seem to have missed my flight.”

  Delly didn’t remember crossing the mat. She threw herself into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. Neal held her up easily. She kissed him, pouring all her pleasure and joy at seeing him into it. “How long until your next flight?” she asked, her lips brushing his.

  “Let’s see how long you need me for.”

  She drew back enough to look him in the eye. “You can do that?” She was startled.

  “For you, yes.” He glanced over her shoulder. “Your coach is looking pissed. You’d better go back.”

  “Screw her.” Delly leaned in for another kiss.

  “No, thank you,” Neal replied and grimaced. He dropped her gently to the ground. “Training first,” he said and turned her to face Sophia. “Then I will take great pleasure in screwing you.” He pushed her toward Sophia.

  Delly returned meekly to the centre of the mat. Sophia was tapping her arm with long fingernails. “I see now why you’re short on sleep,” she said. “Do we need to talk about how boyfriends can sabotage your career?”

  “I wasn’t with Neal last night, if you’re thinking incredibly hot sex is why I’m tired. But that will be my excuse tomorrow. Ready?”

  Sophia made an impatient tsk’ing sound, and proceeded to try and work Delly into sawdust. But Delly could do no wrong for the rest of that training session. She was vitally aware of Neal, sitting on the barricade, watching everything she did, and she kept remembering the way he had called it sensuous.

  She floated through the training, nailing everything. Even Sophia unbent enough to nod in satisfaction, although she didn’t quite manage a smile.

  * * * * *

  Neal took her by the hand and led her across the playing fields onto Washington Avenue. It was a ten minute walk to Eleventh Street. Neal walked into the Golden Hotel and took her up to the third floor and unlock and opened the door.

  His room.

  “You wanted to get away from your life for a while,” he said. It was the first time he had spoken since her training had finished.

  Delly kissed him. “I did. I do. Thank you.” She moved inside. It was a suite. The front room had a table set up for a meal, and there was a meal waiting, under a silver dome lid.

  “And I guessed you would be hungry, again.”

  Her stomach growled in agreement, and Neal grinned. He took her coat from her, sliding it off her arms. “Sit. Eat. Be as piggish as you like. You’ll need your strength later.” His lips brushed across the back of her neck. She felt his fingers in her hair and her hair loosened and fell.

  Delly shivered.

  It wasn’t a chicken burger, but it was a chicken casserole, heavy on protein and vegetables, low on fat...Sophia would have approved instantly. Delly wolfed it down, and not just because she was hungry.

  Neal sat across from her, talking sometimes, but mostly watching her, and the tension in her gut spiralled more. He was extraordinarily good looking. He wore a simple dark sweater with a vee neck, with the sleeves pushed up so she could see his forearms flex with muscles and tendons. And he wore jeans that encased long legs and a very nice ass.

  She was used to seeing male gymnasts with their taut, zero-fat bodies and well-developed upper body musculature. Neal was nothing like a gymnast, but he didn’t look weak, or unfit. He looked very good indeed.

  His pale coloured eyes, in the right light, turned to silver. And they seemed to see straight through her, like they were now.

  She put down her fork. “Could I...would you mind? I need a shower.”

  “Whatever you need,” he said.

  The bathroom wasn’t a squeezed-in galley with a shower and tub combination. There was a full shower cubicle next to a claw foot tub. She shed her clothing and clipped up her hair, and stepped into the tiled shower, studying the walls.

  Then she washed herself quickly. “Neal!”

  He came and stood on the other side of the curtain, but made no attempt to move it aside. “Do you need something?”

  “Apart from you?” She pulled the curtain aside and looked at him. “There’s a wall in here.” She patted the tiles.

  She saw him swallow. His gaze travelled the length of her body and back. Then he pulled the sweater over his head and tossed it onto the counter.

  No, Neal wasn’t a weak man at all. There was muscle there, and his flesh gleamed with a touch of the sun. He looked fit, healthy and not at all obsessed.

  He stripped the rest of his clothing from him as she watched. His cock was thick, the tip flaring red with excitement. It was already erect, and veins bulged along its length.

  Delly’s pussy throbbed along with her clit. She was more than ready. She had spent the night fantasizing about what might have been, and now that moment was here. All the potentials and could-have-beens would have a chance to become real.

  She rested her back up against the wall, using it for support, as Neal stepped into the cubicle. The water from the showerhead sprayed on her shoulder.

  Neal smiled. “A wall, hmmm? I did leave an impression.”

  “You have to live up to your promise now.”

  He lifted her up, his hands around her waist, and pinned her against the wall with his body. She wrapped her legs around him once more.

  “Mmm. I like that,” he said, settling his hands under her ass. His fingers stroked gently, inching toward her cleft, making Delly catch
her breath.

  Then he kissed her and she lost track of his hands. She became immersed instead in the pleasure building in her from everything he was doing to her. Hands, mouth, even his body pressing against her clit. His lips trailing along her collarbones, then down toward her breasts. With a flare of understanding, she saw he had lifted her higher up the wall in order to gain access to more of her.

  As his mouth closed around her nipple, she closed her eyes and simply tried to ride herd on her climax, to contain it and make this moment last.

  “In me,” she whispered. “I want to come with you in me.” Her voice was unrecognizable even to her. It was thick, syrupy with lust.

  Neal’s hands shifted, spreading to her hips. He lowered her, letting her slide down the wall. Just a few inches, then his cock nudged up against her cleft. Even despite the sauna effect of the shower, the heat of the blunt tip of his cock against her pussy was shocking. Delicious.

  Delly clutched at his shoulders. “More,” she begged.

  He pushed up inside her, gasping as he slid all the way in. “Ah, you’re like a fist around me,” he breathed, resting his head against hers.

  But she couldn’t keep still. She arched, her body taut with her building climax. “Fuck me, Neal,” she begged.

  He kissed her in reply, his tongue thrusting deep inside.

  Then he began to thrust. The rough movement of his cock sliding in and out of her slick vagina, caressing the walls, was driving her closer to her climax. She beat at his shoulders as the slow pace of his thrusting kept her teetering on the edge of a massive explosion of pleasure. “Faster,” she begged.

  “No,” he told her, his voice rough. His clear eyes were hooded, indicating his arousal, but he was watching her, measuring her responses.

  But the inexorable pace of his cock inside her was enough. Finally her climax gathered...and built and built, stealing her breath. Then it shattered, and a mindless storm of pleasure ripped through her body.

  She felt Neal’s hips shift and his thrusts falter. “Ah, you’re squeezing.” He gasped, and gave two more deep, hard thrusts. She felt his seed spill as his body stiffened against her.

  For long moments, Delly could only hear her heartbeat, the soft patter of the shower against the tiles and Neal’s breath slowing, next to her ear.

  He turned his head and kissed her jaw. “When do you next have to be somewhere?” he asked.

  “Eight tonight,” she replied. “I’ve got the balance beam booked.”

  “I’ve time yet to make you scream, then.”

  * * * * *

  Miami: June 28, 2.04 a.m.

  “Why did you pull out of the Olympic squad, Delly?” It was a casually phrased question, but Delly felt her body twitch to high alert. It had nothing to do with what Neal’s hands were doing to her right then, either. It was a moment of quiet contemplation that had fallen between them, while their bodies recovered. Neal had turned the lights down in the room and settled himself on the floor, with his back resting against the foot of the bed. Then he’d pulled Delly into his arms, snuggling her up between his legs until her back rested against his chest, with her head pillowed on his shoulder. Then he’d fed her pieces of fresh pineapple and handmade chocolates, in between sips of wine.

  As he fed her, his other hand continued to stroke her body, keeping the nerves awake and receptive. Tingling.

  His question, softly put, broke the mood anyway.

  She pushed the offered glass of wine away. “We don’t have time to go over the past, Neal. And there’s no point, anyway.”

  His hand rested on her shoulder, calming. “Relax,” he breathed. “It’s just conversation.”

  She tried to relax against him again, but the moment had gone. “Nothing about the past makes good conversation.”

  “Not even us? Those two weeks just before the trials were pretty damned good by anyone’s standards.”

  “Especially not us,” she said flatly.

  Neal stiffened. “All right, then,” he said, his own tone very even and controlled.

  She twisted her shoulders enough to look up at his face. “I meant...simply that the time in Colorado reminds me of how impossibly young and naïve I was. I don’t like reminders of how incredibly stupid I was then.”

  “Stupid about me?” he asked softly.

  “Yes,” she said flatly. It was the truth, after all.

  “I see.” He took a deep breath, let it out. Then gave her a small smile. “Serves me right for prying.”

  “Damien always quotes Forster when I ask too many questions. Curiosity is one of the lowest of the human faculties.” She mimicked Damien’s rich English accent perfectly for she had been listening to it for years.

  Neal sat abruptly upright, throwing her forward and spilling the chocolates that had been sitting on her breasts. She thrust her hands forward to save herself, and scrambled out of the way, then turned to look at him, alarmed.

  He reached for her wrist. “Damien Lacey?”

  “You know him?” Her heart was thudding in response to the tension that radiated from Neal’s stiff body.

  “Englishman, with a deep baritone. What’s your relationship with him, Delly. Quickly. Tell me.”

  “I...I work for him.” It was close enough to the truth. His grip on her wrist was growing tighter. “Neal, you’re hurting me.”

  He loosened his hold and massaged her flesh, but it was an automatic thing. He was still staring at her with his clear eyes, looking right through her again. “Working for him....” he repeated, mulling it over. Then he closed his eyes and dropped his head forward. “Oh Christ....”

  “Neal?” She couldn’t lift her voice above a whisper. Her heart was a runaway train now, thudding under high pressure. She didn’t understand what had caused Neal to react the way he was. She was reacting to his stress.

  He lifted his head again. “Damien Lacey. Gentleman thief. You’ve been knocking off houses for him these last ten years, haven’t you?”

  She opened her mouth but no sound emerged. Her shock was too great.

  But Neal nodded his head as if she had confirmed it, anyway. “You threw over a career as a gymnast for the joys of a professional thief. My god, Delly, you were a sure bet for a place on the Olympic team...what on earth made you throw it all away for the dubious glory of working for a man like Damien Lacey?”

  “You did.”

  Chapter Five

  Neal’s shock was visible. He took an unsteady breath. “Me...?”

  Delly threaded her shaking fingers together to keep them still. “There were pictures of us. They showed them to me. Two men in suits with guns, and the senator. The senator had a friend, he explained, that wanted to be on the team and I stood in her way. It was a simple matter. I just had to screw up in my trial, ensure I didn’t get on the team and the pictures would go away.”

  Neal stared at her, blinking. Then he tipped the half full glass of wine to his lips and drained it. “How does Damien fit into it?” he said, his voice harsh.

  Delly looked at her linked hands. There was no way out of re-living the shame now. She knew Neal would not let her be until he had the full story. “I found out the Senator was staying in a condo not far from the Olympic camp. He was only on the fifth floor. For me it was a cake-walk.”

  “You broke in to steal the pictures,” Neal said flatly.

  “I broke in, yes. But...” She sighed. “I was stupid. I tripped off an alarm, and there were security cameras. So I dashed for the bedroom and found out I wasn’t the first one there. A man in a mask stood there with the photos in his hand and a briefcase in the other. He dropped the photos when I came in. By that time the alarms were screaming and police sirens were right outside the building.” She gave a small laugh. “I’m sure even you remember how tight security was during the trials. You couldn’t walk half a block without showing ID and there were cops everywhere, all on high alert.”

  “I remember,” Neal said softly.

  “The man in the ma
sk took off running for the front door. He was smarter than me. He’d opened the door before he went to the bedroom, so he had a fast escape if he needed it.”

  Neal glanced at the sliding door to the deck, then sighed. “What happened?”

  “The police were waiting for him. As soon as he stepped out of the door, they opened fire. He went down immediately. And I was standing in the corridor, almost wetting my pants with fear. Then a hand grabbed my face and everything went blank.”

  “A hand?” Neal said sharply. “Just a hand?”

  “That’s all I remember. I came around god knows how long after and found Damien sitting next to me smoking a cigar. We were in a hotel room somewhere. He said he knew who I was and why I had been in the senator’s condo and I had got his man killed.”

  “Shit, it wasn’t your fault,” Neal breathed.

  “He wouldn’t have run if I hadn’t tripped off the alarm.” Delly shrugged. She’d had a decade to deal with this guilt. “Damien offered to help me. He said he could get the pictures back for me and he’d already acquired the tapes from the security cameras, so I was safe there. I’d been cautious enough to wear gloves so prints weren’t an issue, and DNA testing wasn’t much of a factor ten years ago. I just needed the photos back. In exchange, he wanted me to do a small favour or two for him.”

  “Stealing for him.”

  She hung her head. “He had the photos. He still has them. And he had the tapes from the cameras. And he did haul me out of a jam I could never have survived without him. So I steal to order for him. He makes the arrangements, picks the targets, I go in, and I get ten percent off the top.”

  “He’s owned your ass for ten years...Jesus, Delly!”

  “Yeah, well, not anymore. Not after tonight.”