Page 56 of Havoc's Fox

She stopped mid-chew and looked unseeingly at the shelves of the fridge. “He’s not in Missouri.” She canted her head just slightly as she finished chewing, then refolded the foil over the edge of the dish holding the leftover bread pudding. As she closed the door, she was still considering her next move. Usually, her dreams ended on a frustrated level, and she usually woke, accepted them for what they were knowing there was no way to rectify the situation — she was usually in Boston, and he was usually in Missouri. But not tonight. Tonight they were a matter of feet apart, not even a whole mile. And if Tempest’s words on the subject rang true, then he was awake, cursing her absence just like she was his at this particular moment.

“It’s my one chance to find out what it’s like,” she murmured, placing the spoon on the counter-top.

Barefoot, in only the Victoria Secret short-set pajamas her sister had gotten her for Christmas, Analise padded quietly for the front door. She reached silently for the doorknob, then noticed the small stack of blankets still sitting beside the door from the bonfire earlier that evening. She grabbed one off the top, then shoved her feet into her father’s muck boots and slipped quietly out of the door, closing it behind herself.

Analise shook out the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders, and kept her mind focused on the feel she imagined when thinking of Havoc’s hands on her body. The smell of his skin as his body dominated hers, the taste of his mouth on hers. “No. Just sensations. Just think about the sensations. Nothing else is part of this. Just the sensations. I’ve waited long enough.”

~~~

Havoc’s hips froze mid-stroke, his consciousness slamming back into his body. His chest was heaving, his body hard and trembling from need. But release wasn’t coming for him. It never did. Sometimes it was closer than this particular dream. Sometimes in his dreams he’d actually been inside her, but never did he reach release, or give her any type of satisfaction either. And that was okay. He’d live with that, because all the rest of it, it was as close as he got to Analise, and he needed even that little bit of commune with her. That was what kept him going.

Flopping onto his back, he shoved the pillows out from under his head and onto the floor, kicking the covers out of his way as well. He flung his arms wide and closed his eyes, determined to try to get back to her.

Just almost there, beginning to doze again, a tapping on the door threatened to bring him back to reality.

“Just go away,” he growled.

The tapping started again.

“Go away!” he bellowed, fully awake now and pissed-off that there was probably no chance of getting back to Analise, for tonight anyway.

The tapping on the front door went from a hesitant tap to an insistent knock.

He threw himself out of the bed, each slap of his bare feet on the wooden floors a warning to whoever was interrupting the only fucking peace he ever got. He didn’t even look at the door when he reached the top of the stairs, instead focusing on the stairs themselves until he reached midway. Only then did he look up to see through the glass door so he’d know whose ass he’d be kicking, and he froze. There, with her face pressed against the cut-glass designs of the front door, was Analise.

He didn’t even bother with the rest of the stairs, he simply used one hand to brace himself against the railing and hopped over it, landing easily on both feet. He half-jogged to the door, unlocked it and yanked it open.

He looked at her, from head to toe and back again, wearing her sexy little silk short set with a blanket wrapped loosely around her shoulders. Her feet obviously shoved into her daddy’s boots. Her nose was reddened from the cold, her cheeks pinked as she looked up at him.

There was a steady rumble pouring from his chest but she didn’t step back.

In fact, she shuffled closer to the threshold of the door.

Havoc’s feet covered the threshold, standing across the weatherstripping as he looked down at her. “Why are you here?” he managed to get out.

“You,” she answered.

He looked at her, almost accusingly, as he tried to decipher her answer.

“I want you,” she said.

That was it. That was all it took. He snapped. Havoc reached out and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his body as he slammed his lips down onto hers. Sure, he’d kissed her before, but not like this. This was not the kiss of a teenage kid trying to find his way. This was the kiss of a man who’d lived enough and lost enough to know his forever when it was right in front of him. He backed up enough that he could slam the door, then set her on her feet. He held her head in his hands as her blanket fell to the floor, her face turned up to him as he gazed down into her eyes. “I have waited so long,” he growled.

Analise nodded.

“If I start this…”

She shook her head and raised a hand to press a finger against his lips. “I don’t want to talk. I need to feel you, taste you, know what it’s like to be your focus, to have all of this power, this strength, focused on me. I want to be surrounded by you, dominated by you, loved by you. I don’t want to wonder what it’s like anymore. Don’t talk to me. Show me.”

Havoc kissed her again, slowly, letting the passion grow, banking the flames between them. He pulled away from her gently and looked down at her beloved face, her eyes closed, her lips just barely parted. He stroked the fingertips of his right hand down her cheek, then kissed the tip of her nose.

She opened her eyes and looked into his.

He smiled at her and stepped to the side, locking the door so there would be no interruptions. He lifted her, spreading her legs and placing her on his hips, her legs to his sides.

She kicked off the rubber boots that were just barely hanging onto her small feet, and wrapped her arms around his neck, then very carefully he started back up the stairs.

She kissed him with each step he took, until she had a sudden sobering thought. “Harley?” she asked.