Tall, Dark, and Dangerous Part 2

by Suzanne Brockmann

  Nell had to clear her disappointment out of her throat before she could speak. “Okay.” Had she honestly thought that it might be Crash knocking on her door? What was she thinking? In the entire month that they’d slept under the same roof, with the sole exception of the night of Jake and Daisy’s wedding, Crash had never made a move on her. He’d never done anything at all that even remotely suggested that he was interested in anything but her friendship. So why on earth had she thought he would knock on her door now?

  “What time are you leaving tomorrow?” Jake asked.

  She was going home to Ohio for a week or two. “First thing in the morning. Before seven. I want to try to miss the rush-hour traffic.”

  He reached into his jacket pocket and drew out an envelope. “I better give this to you now, then. I want to sleep as long as I can in the morning.” His mouth twisted into an approximation of a smile. “Like, until April.” He handed her the envelope. “Severance pay. Or a bonus. Call it whatever you like. Just take it.”

  Nell tried to give it back. “I don’t want this, Jake. It’s bad enough that Daisy left me all that money in her will.”

  Somehow Jake managed a more natural smile. “Yeah, well, she really wanted to give you Crash. She was sorry that didn’t work out.”

  Nell felt herself blush. “It didn’t not work out,” she said. “It just…There was nothing there. No spark.”

  Jake snorted. “You really don’t think Daisy and I didn’t notice the two of you staring when you didn’t think the other was looking? Yeah, right, there were no sparks—there were nuclear-powered fireworks.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know what you think you saw.” She lowered her voice. “I did everything but throw myself at him. I’m telling you, he’s not interested in me that way.”

  “What he is is scared to death of you.” Jake pulled her in close for a quick hug. “You know I’ll never be able to thank you enough for all you did, but right now I have to go lie down and become unconscious. Or least attempt it.”

  “Admiral, are you sure you want to be alone? I could get Billy, and we could all have something to eat and—”

  “I’ve got to get used to it, you know? Being alone.”

  “Maybe tonight’s not the night to start.”

  “I just want to sleep. The doctor gave me something mild to help me relax. I’m not proud—if I need to, I’ll take it.” Jake gave her a gentle noogie on the top of her head.

  “Just give me a call when you get to your mom and dad’s so that I know you made it to Ohio safely.”

  “I will,” Nell promised. “Good night, sir.” She was still holding the envelope he’d given her. “And thank you.”

  Jake was already gone.

  She turned and looked at Crash’s door.

  It was tightly shut, the way it always was when he was inside his bedroom.

  What he is is scared to death of you.

  What if Jake was right? What if the attraction Nell felt for Crash really was mutual?

  If she didn’t do something now, if she didn’t walk over to that tightly shut door and knock on it, if she didn’t get up the courage to look Crash in the eye and tell him exactly how she felt, she could very well lose the opportunity of a lifetime—a chance to start a very real relationship with a man who excited her on every level. Emotionally, physically, intellectually, spiritually—there was no doubt about it, William Hawken turned her on.

  When she woke up in the morning, he’d probably already be downstairs, coming back inside from his morning run. She would load up her car, then shake his hand and that would be it. She would drive away, and probably never see him again.

  She stood a chance at making a royal fool of herself, but if she wasn’t going to see him ever again, what did that matter?

  As she stood there, gazing at Crash’s closed door, she could almost hear Daisy whispering in her ear, “Go for it.”

  Nell tossed the envelope Jake had given her into her suitcase and, straightening her shoulders, she went back into the hall, heading for Crash’s room.

  Crash sat in the dark, fighting his anger.

  He’d sat through the funeral as if he were watching it from a distance. It didn’t seem possible that Daisy was dead. Part of him kept looking around for her, waiting for her to show up, listening for her familiar laughter, watching for her brilliant smile.

  He didn’t know how Jake could possibly stand it. But for the past two days, Jake had accepted condolences with a graciousness and quiet dignity that Crash couldn’t imagine pulling off.

  The anger Crash felt was something he could manage. He was good at controlling his anger. He was practiced in distancing himself from it. But the grief and the pain he was feeling—they were threatening to overpower him.

  He’d found he could stomp down the grief, controlling it with his stronger feelings of anger. But after two solid days, the anger was getting harder and harder to control.

  And so he sat in the dark with his hands shaking and his teeth clenched, and he silently let himself rage.

  Nell was leaving in the morning. The thought made him even angrier, the feeling washing over him in great, thick waves.

  He heard a sound in the hallway. It was Jake, knocking on Nell’s door. He heard the door open, heard the two of them talking. He could hear the murmur of voices, but he couldn’t make out the words. Still, he managed to get the gist. Jake and Nell were saying their goodbyes. Then he heard Jake walk away.

  Crash closed his eyes, listening even harder, but he didn’t hear Nell’s door close. A board creaked in the hall, and his eyes opened. She was standing right outside of his room.

  Dear, sweet Mary, how was he supposed to fight the temptation that Nell brought as well as all his grief and pain?

  He closed his eyes, again, willing her to walk away. Walk away.

  She didn’t. She knocked on his door.

  Crash didn’t move. Maybe if he didn’t answer, she would just go away. Maybe…

  She knocked again.

  And then she opened the door a crack, peering in, looking in the direction of his bed. “Billy? Are you asleep?”

  He didn’t answer, and she stepped further into the room. “Hawken…?” The light from the hallway fell onto the bed, and he saw when she realized it was empty. “Crash, are you even in here?”

  He spoke then. “Yes.”

  Nell jumped, startled by his voice coming from the other side of the room.

  “It’s dark in here,” she said, searching for him in the shadows. “May I turn on the light?”

  “No.”

  She flinched at the flatness of his reply. “I’m sorry. Are you…Are you all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why are you sitting in the dark?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “This all must seem like some terrible kind of déjà vu to you,” she said quietly.

  “Have you come to psychoanalyze me, or did you have something else in mind?”

  It was too dark to see her clearly, even with the light from the hall, but he could picture the slight flush rising in her cheeks.

  “I came because I’m leaving in the morning and I wanted to…say goodbye.”

  “Goodbye.”

  She flinched again, but instead of turning and walking out of the room the way he hoped she would, she moved toward him.

  He was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, and she sat down right next to him. “You’re not alone in what you’re feeling,” she said. “There was nothing any of us could do to keep her from dying.”

  “So you are here to psychoanalyze. Do me a favor and keep it to yourself.”

  He couldn’t see her eyes, but he could tell from the silhouette of her profile that she was not unaffected by the harshness of his words.

  “Actually,” she started. Her voice wobbled and she stopped and cleared her throat. When she spoke again, her voice was very, very small. “Actually, I’m here because I didn’t want to be alone
tonight.”

  Something clenched in Crash’s chest. It was the same something that tightened his throat and made tears heat his eyes. It made his bitter anger start to fade, leaving behind a hurt and anguish that was too powerful to keep inside. There was no way he could detach and move far enough away from the pain he was feeling. It was too strong.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “What I said was rude and uncalled-for.”

  Crash tried to get mad at himself. He’d been a son of a bitch from the moment she walked in, a jerk, a complete ass, a total bastard. He tried to get good and angry—because that anger was the only thing that was going to keep him from breaking down and crying like a baby.

  Nell moved in the darkness beside him, and he knew she was wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her shirt. “That’s okay,” she said. “I’d rather have you mad at me than have to watch you do your zombie impression.”

  “Maybe you should go,” Crash said desperately. “Because I’m not feeling very steady here, and—”

  She interrupted, turning in the darkness to face him. “I came to your room because I wanted to tell you something before I left.” She reached out, touching him on the arm. “I wanted to—”

  “Nell, I’m not sure I can—”

  “Make sure that you knew that—”

  “—handle sitting here like this with you.” He’d meant to shake her hand off, but somehow he’d reached for her instead, gripping her tightly by the elbow.

  “I’ve wanted to be your lover since the first time we met,” she whispered.

  Oh, Lord.

  All of the intense feelings—the wanting, the guilt, the desire, the relentless pain—of the past few days, the past few weeks, spun together inside of him, in a great, huge tornado of emotion.

  “I just wanted you to know that before I left,” she said again, “in case you maybe felt something similar and, even though we’ve only got one night—”

  Crash kissed her. He had to kiss her, or everything inside of him, this churning maelstrom of despair and heartache and guilt and grief would erupt from him, tearing him apart, leaving him open and exposed.

  He kissed her—and he didn’t have to cry. He pulled her close—and he didn’t need to break things, he didn’t lash out in anger, he didn’t fall apart with grief.

  She nearly exploded in his arms, clinging to him as desperately as he clung to her, matching the fury of his kisses, the ferociousness of his embrace.

  He pulled her onto his lap so that her legs straddled him, her heat pressed tightly against him.

  Sweet God, he’d wanted her for so long.

  This was wrong. He knew it was wrong, but he no longer cared. He needed this. He needed her—just as she needed him tonight.

  And Lord, how she needed him.

  Her fingers were running through his hair, her hands skimming down his back as if she couldn’t get enough of touching him. She kissed him as if she wanted to inhale him. She pressed herself against him as if she would die if he didn’t fill her.

  Nothing else existed. For right now, for this time, there was no past, no future—only this moment. Only the two of them.

  As still they kissed, he touched her just as greedily, slipping one hand between them to cup the sweet fullness of her breast. She made a low, unbearably sexy noise deep in the back of her throat, then pulled her lips away from his, just long enough to grab the hem of her shirt and pull it quickly over her head.

  And then she kissed him again, as if the few seconds they’d been apart had been an eternity.

  Her skin was so smooth, so perfect beneath his hands. She reached between to unfasten the front clasp of her bra. The sensation was nearly unbearable then and, as she tugged at his own shirt, he knew that feeling her naked against him would drive him mindlessly past the point of no return.

  “Is this really what you want?” he breathed, pushing her hair back from her face, trying to see her eyes in the dimness.

  “Oh, yes.” She kissed the palm of his hand, catching his thumb between her teeth, touching him with her tongue, damn near sending him through the roof.

  When she pulled at his shirt again, this time he helped her, yanking it off.

  And then she was touching him, her hands skimming his shoulders as she kissed his throat, his neck, her delicate lips driving him mad.

  He pulled her close, crushing his mouth to hers, crushing the softness of her breasts to the hard muscles of his chest.

  Skin against skin.

  Crash wanted to take his time. He wanted to pull back and look at her, to taste her, to fill his hands with her, but he couldn’t slow down without that emotional tornado inside of him breaking free and wreaking havoc.

  But there was no way in hell he was going to take her here on the floor.

  He swept his hands to the soft curve of her rear end and stood, pulling himself to his feet with Nell still in his arms.

  Two long strides brought him close enough to kick the door closed. Two more took them both to his bed.

  He put her down and pulled away to rid himself of his boots, and when he turned back, he found she’d opened the curtains on the window over the bed.

  Pale winter moonlight filtered in, giving Nell’s beautiful skin a silvery glow.

  Crash reached for her, and she met him halfway, kissing him and pulling him back with her onto the bed. He felt her hands at the waistband of his pants even as he unfastened the top button of her jeans.

  “Please tell me you’ve got a condom,” she breathed as she helped him pull her jeans down the long, smooth lengths of her legs.

  “I’ve got a condom.”

  “Where?”

  “Bathroom.”

  She slid off the bed as he wrestled with his own pants, but even so, he still managed to beat her into the attached bath. He always kept protection in his toilet kit on the counter next to the sink, and he searched for a foil-wrapped square without even turning on the light.

  She pressed herself against him, her breasts soft against his back, reaching around him to slide both hands down past the waistband of his shorts. As he found what he was looking for, she did, too. Her fingers closed around him and it was all he could do to keep from groaning aloud.

  Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined sweet Nell Burns would be so bold.

  He could have had this for an entire month. He could have…

  She took the foil packet from his hands, tore it open, and began to guide the condom onto him.

  But she took too long, touched him too lightly, and he pulled away, breathing hard, quickly finishing the task himself as she dragged his shorts down his legs. When he turned to face her, he saw that she’d taken off her own panties as well.

  She was beautiful, standing there naked in the moonlight, all silvery-smooth skin and shining hair, like some kind of goddess, some kind of faerie queen.

  Crash reached for her, and she was there, filling his arms, kissing him hungrily. He reached between them, touching her intimately, finding her more than ready for him.

  She turned them around, backing herself up against the sink counter. He knew by now that she was far from shy when it came to sex, but when she lifted herself up onto the counter, opening herself to his exploring fingers, pressing him more deeply inside of her, he thought his heart would stop.

  But then he stopped thinking as she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him toward her. She kissed him hard, and with one explosive thrust, he was inside her.

  Crash heard himself cry out, his voice mixing with hers.

  It was too good, too incredible. He could feel her fingernails sharply against his back as she gripped him, as her legs tightened around him. She wanted him hard and fast and he wasn’t about to deny her anything.

  She moved beneath him, meeting each of his thrusts with a wild abandon, a savage passion that left him breathless. And he knew that this was more than mere sex for her, too. This was a way for them both to take comfort. This was a way to reaffirm that they were bot
h still very much alive. It wasn’t so much about pleasure as it was about trying to drive away the pain.

  He’d always been a considerate lover, always taking his time, giving slow, leisurely pleasure to the woman he was with, making certain that she was satisfied several times over before he allowed himself his own release. He’d always been in careful control.

  But tonight, his control had gone out the window with his good judgment. Tonight, he was on fire.

  He lifted her off the counter, still kissing her, still moving inside her. He carried her toward the bed, stopping to press her back against the bathroom wall, the closet door, the bedroom wall, stopping to drive himself inside her as deeply as he possibly could.

  She strained against him, her head thrown back and her breath catching in her throat as he roughly took first one, then the other of her breasts into his mouth, drawing hard on her deliciously taut nipples.

  It was there, against the wall that separated his room from hers, that he felt her climax. It was there, as she cried out, as she shook and shattered around him, that he lost all that remained of his shredded control. He exploded, his release like a fiery rocket scorching his very soul.

  And then it was over, but yet it wasn’t. Nell still gripped him, still clung to him as if he were her only salvation. And he was still buried deeply inside of her.

  Crash stood, his forehead resting on the wall above her shoulder, more than just physically spent. He was emotionally exhausted.

  One minute slid into two, two into three and Nell didn’t move either, didn’t shift, didn’t stir, didn’t do more than hold him and breathe.

  He kept his eyes closed, afraid to open them, afraid to think.

  Dear God, what had he done?

  He’d used her. She’d come to him for comfort, offering her own sweet comfort in return, and he’d done little more than use her to vent his anger and frustration and grief.

  He lifted his head and somehow the Jell-O that had once been his legs made it over to the bed. He sank down, pulling himself free from Nell. He immediately missed the intimacy of that connection, but who was he kidding? They couldn’t stay joined that way for the rest of their lives. He leaned back on the mattress, pulling her down with him, so that her back nestled against his chest, so that he wouldn’t have to meet her gaze.