Vivian Arend - Rising, Freestyle

Whisper soft. Not hesitant, but careful.

Too careful. Melanie leaned in harder, accepting his offering. Derrick responded, becoming more forceful and direct. Heat built between them as he ravished her mouth and her mood flipped again. All her stored-up frustrations burst out into glorious lust and she opened her lips willingly. Somehow she found her fingers tangled in his hair like she’d dreamed of earlier. He showed his approval by clutching her hips to him, his arousal evident even through the mass of webbing in the harnesses lashed around their hips. The safety rope wove between their bodies; the hard surface another contrast against the delicate brush of his fingers as he trailed them up her arms.

He kissed her, his tongue teasing along her teeth, tickling her lips, plunging deep. Their breaths mingled as they separated for a second to gasp for air then dove back for more. The tight knot of fear in her belly slipped into an aching need a handspan lower, centered between her legs.

Maybe she should have freaked out sooner. Maybe coming to the climbing wall and forcing herself to get back into a harness was the best thing she could have done.

Maybe she should just concentrate on the man she wanted to climb up and swing from the rafters with. Her swelling desire shoved the lingering stench of her anxiety into the corner as she let the thrill of arousal take her away.

Derrick figured he’d be kicking his own ass once this was over, but for now he reveled in the woman melting in his arms. For the past three weeks he’d been as patient and gentle as a saint. He’d ignored the urge to make a move, sensing her nervousness, thinking it was about her getting back into the swing of climbing again. He’d forced himself to stay aloof and make the situation as peaceful and serene as possible, all the while longing to find out what Melanie Dixon tasted like.

Even the fact she was related to a good friend wasn’t enough to stop him from expressing interest in the dark-haired beauty. Kane’s little sister was grown up enough to know her own mind, and what she’d said she needed was to regain her courage in the climbing arena.

If she had given him even an inkling of what she’d just shared, he would have been all over her weeks ago. Now he was finally getting the chance.

Screw the consequences. She needed this—maybe even more than he did. And he needed it bad.

God, she could kiss. She held his head in traction between her palms, lips tight to his. Every breath he dragged in tasted like her, with that damn tongue exploring and rampaging through his mouth. He cupped her butt and dragged her higher to line them up better, thrusting his own tongue along hers, pulsing it like he wanted to pulse into her body. Her moan of approval rippled along his spine, and he went from hard to utterly rigid. The confining straps of the harness holding his khakis in place pressed on him violently enough to cut off circulation.

Derrick took another step back. There was a sudden jerk as the rope between them snagged and he tripped. Melanie let out a little scream. He rolled instantly to his back to catch her, swearing at his own stupidity in giving her any reason to not trust him. Great, asshole. Drop the woman who’s afraid of falling.

Nothing happened. He lay flat on his back, but instead of the sudden contact of her body slamming against his, he heard a peal of laughter echo off the high walls of the climbing gym.

“Damn it, Derrick, get me out of this mess.”

Her voice came from directly above him, and he looked up to see her face hovering over his. It took a second to follow the lines and figure out what had happened. The loose end of the rope was tangled around his torso, pinned in place by his body weight. The middle of the length rose to the ceiling, looped through the support hooks as it should and returned down to where Melanie’s harness was secured into the other end.

She hung suspended a foot over him, facedown, with the rope caught over one shoulder. Her feet were planted on the wall, holding her in place. She looked as if she were laying flat on her tummy on an invisible diving board.

He stared into her face, checking for any signs of fear, but all he saw was amusement. “Are you okay?”

She snickered. “I’m fine, but a little stuck. Could you please get me down?”

The situation was too tempting to resist. He gripped the rope to keep her in place, then swung himself into a direct line. When he released the rope, letting it slide through his hand an inch at a time, it lowered her all right.

Directly on top of his waiting body.

It felt so damn good, the increasing weight of her settling on him. The warmth of her thighs met his legs, her breasts crushed against his chest. Her gaze bore into him, and he wondered if he’d overstepped his boundaries for the second time.

“Did you plan this all along?” she asked.

He shook his head, trying to ignore the violent urge to rub their groins together to satisfy the hunger burning inside. He couldn’t do that, not unless she showed some indication she was agreeable.

Tying up a woman to get into her pants—it wouldn’t be the first time, but he only did that with willing partners.

“Couldn’t have planned it in a million years,” he confessed.

Her eyes darkened as her gaze darted over his face, landing on his lips with a hungry stare. “Damn, I’d hoped it was on purpose.”

Hallelujah. He let go of the rope and rolled her, diving back into the kiss. Only this time the feel of her under him made him crazy. She opened her legs and his hips settled in tighter, except for the layers of harnesses between them. Like some kind of modern chastity belt, the wide webbing snagged together as he rocked his hips, stopping him from rubbing his erection against her mound. He growled out his frustration.

She grabbed one of his hands and tugged it to her breast.

Okay, he could be pacified for a moment or two.

They slowed the frantic kisses as his need to taste her skin grew beyond restraint. While he licked and nipped his way along her jawline, her fingers skipped over his back, tugging his shirt upward until she reached bare skin. Her short nails weren’t enough to scratch, but her strong fingertips dug in and pulled a groan from him.

He wanted to be naked with her. He wanted to strip off the long-sleeved shirt and sports bra she always wore, and suck on her firm nipples until she screamed. Then he’d—

A buzzer went off and they both tensed. They glanced toward the clock on the wall and Melanie let out a huge sigh. “Opening time.”

The after-school crowd was waiting for him to open the door to the climbing gym. Screw it. They could all wait for a few minutes.

It took an extraordinary amount of time to untangle themselves and find their feet. Derrick held her close for longer than he needed to, pretending it was to make sure she had her balance. He just didn’t want to let her go.

The damn buzzer went off again, this time accompanied by banging fists on the doorframe.

“Your students are eager to get started.” Melanie stared away from him, all her concentration centered on untangling the knot tethering her to the rope.

He wasn’t going to leave it this way. A wild tumble on the climbing mats and nothing more? “Would you like to go for dinner with me?”

Her head snapped up, a small smile appearing. “Tonight?”

Derrick nodded as he headed for the door. “I can get away around six thirty. Seven if you’re okay waiting that long.”

Melanie paused and he held his breath. “I’d like that. You want me to come here?”

Excitement raced through him to rival any teenage boy planning a first date. “That would be great.”

“Okay.”

They were grinning at each other like fools, he was sure of it, but he really didn’t give a shit. Not about the continued protesting at the door behind him, or the faces peering in. Not about his lack of finesse. She turned and headed for the change room, and he watched her ass with a growing conviction that fate had intervened today and that tonight was going to be the start of a fine relationship.

Melanie wanted to relearn how to live? He could help her with a lesson or two, and if somewhere along the way they happened to get involved in some heart-pounding, body-aching sex?

He was good with that as well.

Rope Gun: Slang title for the climber who does all the leading.

Melanie pivoted in front of the mirror, frowning in dissatisfaction. She smoothed her hands down the second T-shirt she’d layered on. Unless a person knew exactly where to look, no signs of her accident showed. Of course, that equaled no skin visible anywhere, which meant she wasn’t very sexy, and therein lay her dilemma.

There had to be some kind of rulebook she’d neglected to read that could guide her through this situation, but the feverish heat pulsing through her veins and the ache between her legs continued to distract her. A girly-girl she wasn’t, but surely even she could manage to pull together one outfit that was a little less “here I am, I’m covered” and a little more “here I am, want to uncover me?”

She changed clothing five times before she forced herself to stop.

In a few short minutes, Derrick James had turned her on and left her revving on high. Although she was embarrassed at her emotional outburst, it hadn’t seemed to bother him. On the contrary, he must have had getting close to her on his mind before that moment. Guys got turned on fast—she knew that from too many years of close contact in confining quarters when her co-ed team had traveled to competitions. But Derrick? He had struck her as far more mature than the trigger-happy youths on her climbing team.