Her body plastered against his, she could feel a hard protrusion against her ass. "You're naked."
"Yeah. I sleep in the raw, sweetheart. Get used to it," he murmured, his voice husky. "You want to tell me about the nightmare?"
Actually, what she wanted was to forget. But she turned around in the circle of his arms, needing desperately to wrap herself around his warm masculine body. She wasn't a tiny, delicate female, but as she buried her face against his bulky, solid chest, she felt like one. "It was just a dream about what happened. Only in the dream, they got me into the car. They were going to rape me before they shot me in the head. I fought, but they were ripping at my clothes. They were so much stronger. All I could think about was that I wanted to die before they could violate me, but the one that got away was on top me, the other holding the gun to my head." She was shaking her head, trying not to get emotional. It was only a dream. It hadn't really happened. "But it was so real. I could smell their body odor, see those evil eyes. I woke up just as they..." her voice trailed off in a shaken whisper.
Simon rocked her, running a hand over her back as though he were comforting a small child. "Shhh...it's okay, sweetheart. You're safe. They can't get to you anymore."
Her body quaking from the nightmare, all she wanted was to wipe away the bad memories, to bury herself in sensation, to indulge herself in the incredible body of the man who was comforting her. The one man who could make her forget the last few days, wipe it away with his sensual touch. "Make love to me. Make me forget," she whispered, her voice seductive and tremulous.
She felt his body tense as she pushed him gently, rolling him on his back. Her hands roamed over his chest, savoring the hard, sinewy muscles and taut, hot skin. Unhurried, she traced each muscle from his shoulders to his abdomen, caressing the enticing swirl of hair that led from his navel to his groin.
"Shit! We can't do this!" Simon groaned, catching her wandering hands in his strong grip. "There's no better feeling than having your hands all over me, but you just got out of the hospital."
"Several days ago. And I'm not hurt. I feel fine. I have a little cut on my forehead. There's only one place where I really ache." She pushed his unresisting hand to the heat between her thighs, parting her legs. Maybe she was coming on too strong, begging too much, but she didn't care. She needed Simon's possession, needed him inside of her. "Please." Her voice was pleading, desperate. Pulling her hand from his grasp, she slid her hand down, lower, wrapping it around his engorged cock.
"No! Christ! I'll come if you touch me." His voice was strangled as he captured her hand, holding it against his chest. The hand between her thighs breeched the elastic of her tiny panties, his fingers slipping easily between her saturated folds. "You're wet. So f**king hot."
"Because I need you." She moaned as his large, blunt fingers explored her, moving sensually over her clit and the tender flesh surrounding it. Mindless desire devoured her body whole. Not thinking, only able to react to the relentless need that was pounding at her, she yanked the soaked panties down her legs, kicking them into the sheets, and clambered on top of him, straddling him. Placing a hand on each side of his head, she kissed him.
One minute she was on top of him, her lips covering his, ready to lose herself in the power of his touch, and the next moment...she was flat on her back. He had flipped her, tearing his mouth from hers.
"No. I can't. I f**king can't." His voice was tortured, his torso imprisoning her, his hands gripping each one of her wrists at the side of her head.
His breathing was labored, ragged. She could hear harsh sounds coming from his throat as he attempted to get air in and out of his lungs.
Shaking her head, starting to emerge from her erotic fog, she looked up at the massive figure looming over, a man in obvious torment.
Shit. What did I do? Did I push too hard?
The moon provided some muted light in room, but it still wasn't enough illumination to see his eyes...but then, she didn't have to. The sound of his voice, his breathing, his trembling body, his tight hold on her wrists told her that she had sent him plummeting into his own personal nightmare.
"Simon. It's me. Kara." She pulled on her wrists, but she couldn't free them. “Talk to me."
"I know who you are. I just can't f**king do it." Chest heaving, he stayed locked in place.
"Kiss me."
Trapped under his body, under his dominance, she still wasn't sure that she could assuage his fear. He wasn't hurting her, but she wanted to bring him back to the here and now. Somehow, she had inadvertently hurt him, sent him into a panic.
Her heart was racing and it seemed like forever until he finally lowered his head slowly, fitting his mouth over hers. He kissed her like a man who had come unglued. His tongue speared into her mouth, conquering, lashing, over and over.
His wild, dominant embrace released a primal instinct inside of her, as if her body was automatically responding to her mate. She moved her tongue against his, surrendering herself to him, letting him be her master.
"Kara." He breathed her name as he released her mouth, burying his head in the side of her neck.
"Yes. Just you and me, Simon. Just us."
"Need to f**k you." The statement was muffled, his rumbling voice vibrating against her neck.
"Do it. Just like this." Something about her being on top, being in control had flipped his detonation switch. But his lust was still there. She could feel it, rock-hard and hungry, pushing against her thigh.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. It felt so good, but I just couldn't --"
"No. Don't. It doesn't matter. I just want you inside of me." She parted her legs, and pulled at her wrists. "Can you let go of me?"
Slowly, he loosened his powerful grip as he moved between her thighs. "Yeah. I think so." He answered in a tone filled with trepidation.
Her heart stuttered as she pulled her wrists out of his now only slightly resisting hands and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "I just want to hold you. You have control."
"Around you, I doubt I'll ever really have any control," he muttered quietly, his voice filled with reluctant resignation.
"Make love to me, Simon." Her voice was pleading, but she didn't care. His momentary fear and vulnerability had crushed any self-preservation instincts left in her body. She needed to help set him free, to obliterate whatever was in his past that held him prisoner. He was too good a man, too kind a person to remain trapped, unable to move forward.