One Wrong Move

by Shannon McKenna

  “Ah,” she said softly. “Yes. I do.”

  He was inexplicably pissed that she had no more to say than that. “So,” he said. “There it is. That’s it. That’s the fuckup.”

  “That’s all?”

  “What, that’s not enough for you? You need more? They took her! I couldn’t stop them! She almost died, and so did Bruno! All because of me! So as you can see, my track record sucks. Big time.”

  “Your track record’s pretty good with me,” she said.

  He waved that away, with an angry swat.

  She studied him. “Lily told me how they set up that scam. I would have been fooled. Anyone would have been fooled, Aaro.

  Anyone.”

  “Yeah, well, anyone wasn’t. I was.”

  “So you need to redeem yourself? For not being perfect? Is that why you’re going to all this effort? To make up for that?”

  He stuck his cigarette back in his mouth and sucked on it, to preclude letting anything stupid blurt out.

  Nina twitched the cigarette out of his mouth. “Put this out.”

  He gaped at her, smoke still trickling from his mouth. “Huh?”

  She grabbed a cup from table, and tapped out his smoke in it.

  Then she turned, and gave him a smile that almost stopped his heart.

  “It just became worth your while,” she said.

  Chapter 14

  Nina couldn’t read the look on his face. The few hours that she’d known him, he’d been so armored, so totally ‘fuck you,’ it took a minute to recognize his expression, and another one to believe it. Fear.

  Aaro was scared. Of her. Holy shit. No one had ever been scared of her. But this guy, this rawhide-and-gunmetal guy who blazed raw sex appeal—he looked scared of her.

  The realization gave her the urge to giggle, which she suppressed. Giggling would kill the moment. She did not want this moment killed. It was astonishing. She wanted to treasure it, follow it. See where it went.

  Maybe it was the way he felt about his failure in guarding Lily.

  He pretended to be indifferent and cynical, but it was bullshit.

  He cared desperately. It was killing him. Like he cared for his dying aunt. It fogged her up, just thinking about it. He’d revealed so much of himself when he let her witness that. He’d handed her his operating instructions.

  She wasn’t afraid of him anymore, and fearlessness felt good.

  The voice of reason still yammered away in the back of her head, and yeah, it was still the worst idea in the history of bad ideas. He was a stranger, a totally inappropriate choice for a lover, badly behaved, and there was no guarantee the sex would work, however excited she might be.

  In fact, chances were statistically overwhelming that it would be a disaster. Sex so far had been lots of staring at ceiling tiles, discomfort, embarrassment. Afterward, trying to explain. Reassuring her partners that it wasn’t their fault, it was her, not them, blahbity blah blah.

  She’d started to wonder if she was, well, different. Some people were straight, some were gay, some were bi. And some were asexual. She’d been getting comfortable with the idea. Thinking that it might be OK, to be “a.” What a relief, to just relax. Give up the fight.

  And ka-boom. Her mind was yanked open, shields down, no gray fuzz, no nobody here nobody here churning out. She was oh, so very here right now. So present. Like never before.

  It was madness. But it felt like magic.

  She laid her hand on his chest, and the contact made her nerves tingle, a zillion little bells ringing. He was hot. The fabric of his T-shirt damp. So hard, that lean economy of muscle beneath it. He smelled of smoke, the tang of male sweat. His heart thumped beneath her palm. Her fingers dug into his sinewy bulk. Mmmm.

  “All this effort, just to make up for being human,” she said.

  His eyes narrowed. “If you’re trying to make me feel better about fucking up, don’t bother. I don’t need someone to hold my hand.”

  “It’s not my job to comfort you,” she said. “And it wasn’t actually your hand I was thinking about holding.”

  His chest jolted, but he jerked the laughter and his grin promptly back under grim control. “So what are you doing?”

  “I’m calling your bluff. You are so busted, Aaro. Was it all just so much calculated bullshit, this amazing skill set of yours? Did I have my mind in the gutter when I assumed that you were offering yourself up as a sex toy when you invited me to use you? Am I that far off base?”

  “Uh, no.” A muscle pulsed in his jaw. “By no means. My mind lives down in the gutter. It maintains a full-time residence down there.”

  “Thank goodness. I’d have been mortified, if I’d gotten it wrong.”

  “I’m just surprised, at the about-face. I thought you were scared of me. Scared of sex. That you thought I was a pain-in-the-ass buffoon.”

  She smiled, dug her fingernails in. Feeling his nipples, tickling her palm through his shirt. “So you figured you were safe, right?”

  His face was a taut mask. “Don’t push me.”

  “Why not? You push me. But you know what?” She delicately scraped her nails down over his chest. “I see right through it now.”

  He flinched back. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “That bag over my head,” she said softly. “You wear one, too.

  Takes one to know one. That’s why I couldn’t read your mind, even though I can read everyone else’s. Your bag is a shield. Just like mine.”

  He cleared his throat. “OK. I think you’re nuts, but I’ll play your game. What do you think you see in there? This one’s for free.”

  She ran her fingertips over the rasp of beard stubble. He was so skittish, so painfully macho. He wasn’t going to want to hear about his grief and loneliness. It would just embarrass him, which would piss him off. Not conducive to what she had in mind.

  She let out a careful breath. “I don’t think you want to know.”

  He snorted. “Easy answer.”

  “Easier for you, definitely,” she agreed.

  The silence thickened, and when she put her finger to his cheek again, he leaned into her touch, like a cat. The shimmer of awareness intensified. “So it’s official?” His voice was almost belligerent. “You’re letting me fuck you tonight. Awesome. Let’s get started.”

  She stifled a giggle. “There you go again. Get it through your head, Aaro. The rude-and-ugly bag over your head won’t work.

  I’ve seen through it. The spell’s broken. It’s silly, now. Give it up.

  Behave.”

  “The desire to get laid can make even an asshole behave well for a little while. Then it passes, and it’s like it never happened.”

  She tried not to smile. “Is that a warning?”

  He shook his head. “A reminder.”

  “You’re not an asshole,” she said. “I don’t know why you want to convince everyone that you are, but with me, you might as well stop.”

  “You’re projecting a fantasy onto me,” he said grimly. “Don’t.”

  She flapped her hand at him. “You think too much, Aaro,” she said. “Stop it before you hurt yourself.”

  His chest jerked in harsh laughter. “Nobody’s ever accused me of that before.” He grabbed his duffel. “I need a shower. I’m foul. I was traveling for hours even before the mortal combat.

  Give me a few.”

  He vanished into the bathroom. Nina sagged down onto the bed.

  The sky had fallen. Pigs flew. Hell was frozen over. It had made dreamlike sense, while he was standing there, zapping her with his wild energy, but once he fled into the bathroom, her in-securities crowded eagerly back. Maybe he’d come on to her out of habit. Some men didn’t know any other way to behave with a woman. And now, he was forced to deliver on his big talk, to sal-vage his macho image.

  Then again. That erection had seemed very, very sincere.

  The shower was hissing. The pressure was on. She’d never had such an intense reaction to
a man. In personal relationships, she avoided intensity. She’d had plenty of that as a kid. She got plenty more working for the women’s shelter. She preferred careful, polite, safe guys.

  And look how well that was working out for her. It had been over a year since her last attempt at sex. Though she hadn’t been aware of any feelings of deprivation. Not until she met Aaro.

  Yes, this attack of mad, mindless lust was totally Aaro-specific.

  The shower stopped hissing, and she was still wearing the glasses and tent dress he so despised. This was her chance to re-cline naked, be a seductive siren. But she could hardly breathe, let alone undress.

  The bathroom door opened. A cloud of steam swirled around him as he emerged, like stage smoke wreathing a rock star as he stepped into the spotlight. He was naked to the waist, and God, he was fine. Black cotton trousers hung low on his lean hips. She drank him in, breathless. That chest, those shoulders, that belly.

  Solid, massive, ripped. Some scars, here and there. Perfect. In every last detail.

  Their eyes met. The energy level roared up and got hotter with every step she took toward him, like the very air would explode. She inhaled deeply as she moved toward him. Mmm. Perfumed. He’d washed his hair. And shaved. His long hair was combed straight back from his forehead. Minty toothpaste, shampoo. Aftershave. Deodorant.

  She bit her lip to keep from smiling. “Why, Aaro,” she said demurely. “Look at you. You primped.”

  Those massive, gleaming shoulders twitched. “Least I could do.”

  “You look awesome. And you smell delicious. I’m touched.”

  “Not yet, you’re not,” he replied. “Soon, though.”

  Her mouth had been open, some smart remark on the tip of her tongue. It vanished, melted away in the heat of his penetrat-ing stare.

  “You’re still wearing your bag,” he said.

  Her face went hot. “Um. It . . . it doesn’t come off so easily.”

  “Tell me about it,” he murmured. It sounded almost as if he had admitted that she was right, about his own masquerade. His own mask.

  “Stop that,” he said suddenly.

  She jumped. “Huh? Stop what?”

  “That thing with your lip. Stop doing that.”

  She bristled. “I know this lip thing is your pet peeve, Aaro, but you’re going to have to get over it, because I have no idea—”

  “So make it conscious.” He grabbed her shoulders, and swung her around so that they faced the mirror. “Look at your mouth.

  See how the top is soft and pink, but the bottom is squashed flat.

  Feel the tension?”

  “You’re a fine one to talk about tension,” she said sourly.

  “See?” he said, triumphant. “You can’t do it when you talk.

  Whoops, there it goes again! Back into the cage. It got spooked.”

  “You’re making me self-conscious,” she snapped. “That’s the kiss of death, you know. Freezes me right up. So not in your best interests.”

  “Just look in the mirror.” He reached around, touching her lower lip. She jumped, at the intimate contact. Her lips trembled.

  “Try to relax,” he urged.

  She laughed in his face. “With you? Now? Hah!”

  He looked pleased. “Look! See? When you laugh, it comes out to play. See? Pillowy soft. And that sexy crease in the middle.”

  They both stared at her mouth. It hung slightly open, her breath coming ragged and fast. Her lip gleamed, moist from having been sucked inside her mouth. He began to stroke it. Barely touching it.

  The glancing touch was a match to a fuse. She closed her eyes, shuddering. Sensations jolted deep into the most sensitive, secret parts of her body. He put his mouth to her throat. A delicate drag of his teeth down her tendon, a slow lick of his tongue. She whimpered, and drew his fingertip into her mouth. A suckling swirl of lips and tongue.

  He made a choked, shocked sound. “Oh, my God.”

  Nina reached up, took off her glasses with a trembling hand, laid them on the telephone table. The world blurred, leaving just a small bubble of clarity. It was enough. As long as he was inside the bubble.

  Aaro kissed her neck hungrily, and fished up the end of her thick braid. Slowly, as if it were some sacred rite, he teased the elastic off and unraveled it. The curly strands slid and wound around his long fingers.

  It was like the hair itself had nerves. As responsive as skin, each stroke of her hair against his hand. Every point of contact reverberated through the vast energy field their two bodies had become. His lips were so soft against her throat. The faint nip, the scrape of teeth. A reminder of the depth of his animal hunger. And his immense self-control.

  I won’t lay a hand on you unless you tell me to. And I would never, ever hurt you.

  She believed him. This guy did not tell lies. He didn’t know how. He didn’t gloss over anything ugly. There was nothing ugly to gloss over.

  She felt like an eye had opened up inside her that could see light shining out of him. It relaxed her like sunshine. Unraveled her, like her braid, making her wanton and luxurious. Loosening taut knots of tension with a warm glow of . . .

  Trust? Him? Oh, please. Wake up!

  She batted the voice of reason away. She wanted to live this fantasy. She’d never melted in a man’s arms. Her sexual experiences had all been carefully planned. And they had all gone exactly nowhere.

  But Aaro, his teeth sliding delicately down her throat, made ticklish thrills lick over her skin, and damp heat rush into her face, between her legs. Her nipples went taut, her knees went weak.

  Aaro could take her anywhere . . . and everywhere.

  His arm tightened, pulling her back against him. His erection prodded her bottom. Her eyes were squeezed shut. Air would only come into her chest in little jerky starts. She felt dizzy. She opened her eyes, barely recognized herself. So pink. Eyes glowing and dilated.

  He loomed, a raptor guarding its prey. His hands slid up, cupping her breasts. Even through two layers of cloth, with pockets and buttons and embroidery and stitching, the soft, stroking contact sent licks of fire curling through her. She leaned back against him, craving more.

  And suddenly, his hands dropped.

  She almost stumbled, without the support. What the hell?

  Had he changed his mind? One glance at the loose, revealing pants draped from his hips showed that whatever might be going on in his mind, his body was still hugely enthusiastic. His erection tented out the fabric as far as it would stretch. “Ah . . . are you OK?” she asked.

  He shook his head. His hands fisted, opened, fisted again. “I just need to know the rules, that’s all.”

  She was baffled. “Rules? I didn’t know there were rules.”

  “Usually, there aren’t. I follow my instinct, and it works fine, so far. I’ve gotten no complaints. But you . . . you’re different.”

  Different? That quenched some of her glow. “You mean, a woman like me? With all the baggage and expectations and whatnot?”

  “No,” he said, with a sharp sigh. “That’s not it. Not at all.”

  “I don’t have any expectations of you,” she said. “Really, I don’t. Please, don’t flatter yourself, or insult me. I’m not that stupid.”

  “It’s the stepdad thing,” he blurted.

  That doused her buzz completely. Her belly clenched. “Ah.

  So, that’s, um . . . a turnoff for you?”

  “Fuck, no! It’s not like that! My head and my dick are both about to explode. Look at me. Do I look turned off to you?”

  She looked him over, and her lips twitched. “Um. No, not really.”

  “That’s my problem.” His hands began to open and close.

  “I’ve never been this wound up. I’m on the edge of a . . . a fucking cliff.”

  “Oh. I see,” she said, though she didn’t, really. “Well, don’t worry so much. What you were doing was fine. Super-deluxe, in fact. Go ahead, fall off the cliff. I think we’ll, um . . . catch each
other.”

  “I’m afraid of scaring you.” His voice was raw. “Because of your . . . because you have . . . you know.”

  “Issues?” she supplied.

  He waved his hand impatiently. “I don’t want to fuck this up.

  All that bullshit about my sexual skill set, fuck it, Nina, I didn’t know you would have this effect on me! You suck on my finger, and I practically came in my pants. I am this far”—he held up a thumb and forefinger—“from doing that. If you look at me funny, I’ll come.”

  Her heart did a painful little somersault. “It’s better that way,”

  she offered. “I prefer it, actually. To not be the only one who feels unsure of herself. I like you that way.”

  “Yeah? You think you’ll like me that way when I’m pounding away on top of you? All two hundred and thirty pounds of me?”

  Her thighs squeezed together, and her heart tripped quadru-ple time. “Um, yes, actually. I think I’ll like you just fine,” she said, touching his bare chest. “No one’s ever wanted me that much.”

  “You didn’t want anyone to,” he said. “You didn’t allow it.”

  She acknowledged that with a nod.

  “But you want it from me,” he went on. “Why?”

  Her hand splayed out, feeling the buzz, the heat, the powerful throb of his heart against her palm. “I don’t know,” she said. “It’s a mystery. You showed me yours. So now I’ll show you mine.”

  She shook her hair back as she slipped off the broad linen shoulder straps of the jumper smock. The weight of all the skirt fabric tugged the loose garment down. It caught on her hips, then fell.

  Aaro’s breathing became an audible rasp. “Ah, Nina.”

  She looked down, so very glad she’d shaved her legs. It had been a random impulse, an excuse to stay under pounding hot water a little while longer before work. To think she’d been humming, depilating her legs without a care, oblivious of the terrors the day had in store for her.

  It was hard to undo the blouse. She’d never tried to undo buttons while her fingers trembled. But one after the other, she tugged them loose, took as deep a breath as her lungs would accept, and shrugged it off her shoulders. Ta da. Her tits. There they were, in all their glory. She shut her eyes, overwhelmed by it. She’d never felt so seen. So known.