Opposing Forces

by Adrienne Giordano

  But she loved the way life seemed easier with him around.

  “I’ve got almost ten years on you.”

  She smirked. “Very good. It only took you a minute and a half to come up with another reason why I should run from you.”

  “It’s true.”

  “So what? You look like a Boy Scout, remember? No one will know. And just imagine, you can be the dirty old man with a young squeeze.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  Then she curled her hand into his shirt and pulled him toward her. “Don’t find a reason. Just this once, don’t think.”

  “I have to.”

  Moving even closer, her lips hovering just below his, his breath wisped over her cheek. So close. “No, Jack, you don’t. We’re adults. We’re responsible. We, I think, care about each other. Stop thinking.”

  Slowly, he ran his hand down the side of her head, then down her cheek and neck, his touch so soft in contrast to the sensations electrifying her skin.

  “I’m scared.”

  His lips were right there, teasing her, making her want all the things she’d been telling herself she shouldn’t have with an addict. All she had to do was lift her chin a bit. “Me too.” She inched closer.

  Then she kissed him.

  * * *

  “Wait.” The word was barely out of his mouth, but she shoved him backward onto the couch and slowly straddled him. She kissed him again. Hard and wet and long and—son of a bitch—this was confusing.

  “Let’s just do it. I can’t take the tension anymore. Please?”

  One thing he hadn’t fantasized about was her saying please and it was definitely something he shouldn’t have overlooked. The caged animal inside him busted loose. He cupped his hands over her backside and pulled her closer while their tongues had a party.

  So close to a year, it shouldn’t matter. Not when every fiber and nerve ending came alive and made him feel like himself again. Like the guy who wasn’t a screw-up. The emotionally healthy guy he’d been before his life derailed. Wasn’t that the point? To be healthy again.

  To feel alive without the use of drugs.

  Gently, he rolled her to her back, let his weight sink mostly into his arm so he didn’t hurt her. Damn, he’d missed having a woman under him. Missed the sliding of legs and the heat of skin against skin.

  Yep, old Lynx was back.

  Jillian broke the kiss, but dragged his shirt from his jeans. “Are you okay with this?”

  He cracked up. Her legs must have gone numb, because his hard-on should be telling her exactly how okay he was with this.

  “Don’t laugh,” she said. “I can feel that your body is okay with this. But I shouldn’t be pressuring you.”

  He slid his hand over her chest and took a minute to enjoy holding Jillian’s breast in his hand. After all those fantasies. Finally. He gave it a squeeze. “Does it seem like you’re pressuring me?”

  “A little bit, I think.”

  “With me pawing at your tits, you think you’re pressuring me?”

  That made her laugh. “But the pawing feels so good.”

  “Then shut up about it. Chances are I’ll beat myself up over it tomorrow.”

  “So, we should wait.”

  “No. I may drive myself crazy, but I won’t regret it. That I know for sure. Now quit talking and let me get laid.”

  “Okay. But let’s do this right.”

  “Is there a wrong way?”

  She wiggled out from under him. “Yes. First of all, my whole body hurts and the couch will do me in. More importantly, our first time together shouldn’t be on a couch like a couple of horny, fumbling teenagers.”

  “But I’m definitely horny. And fumbling.”

  “And a comedian to boot.” She elbowed her way off the couch, wincing only a little, and reached for his hand. “Take me to bed, young man.”

  “Ooh,” he said. “She’s going into schoolmarm mode.”

  She led him into his own bedroom and his gaze went to the bed. Helluva way to break it in.

  “Um, hello?”

  “I was thinking about the bed.”

  She tugged on his shirt. “And all the things you said you’d do to me in it?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  When she kissed the back of his shoulder, his mind was definitely not on anything other than getting her naked.

  Fast.

  He spun toward her and kissed her. He’d been thinking about getting this woman into bed for three months. He didn’t want to rush it, but his body had other ideas.

  Apparently so did hers, because she grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

  Her gaze landed on his upper right biceps and the tribal tat of claw marks and a roaring tiger. “Oh, that is hot.”

  She trailed her fingertips over the claw marks and then outlined the tiger. “You’ve had it awhile.”

  “Twelve years. Chalk it up to a bachelor party and a bottle of scotch. Some asshole thought a guy named Lynx would look cool with a tiger and claw marks on his arm.”

  “It’s so you, though.”

  She kissed the spot where the tattoo sat and his body went berserk. Completely hyperactive.

  He tilted his head back and enjoyed her lips traveling up over his shoulder to his neck. “Damn, I’ve been thinking about this a long time. All I want is to love you.” He laughed. “For a very long time.”

  “Well, tiger, don’t let me stop you.”

  He dragged his fingers over her stomach. Up. Down. Sideways. This was it. All those fantasies and she was right here.

  What’s the holdup, boss?

  He hadn’t gotten laid in almost a year. The whole thing might be over in seconds, which, he was quite sure, would obliterate any ideas Jillian might or might not have about having a round two with him. That might be the holdup.

  He wrapped his hand around her waist and kissed her. Slowly this time. No rush. He pulled back and stared into those big doe eyes and wanted nothing more than to give her the best damned sex she’d ever had.

  Except, yeah, it might have to happen in zero-point-two seconds.

  Jesus.

  She stepped back and held up her hands. “What’s going on? You’re thinking way too much about this. I can smell the smoke. Are you not ready?”

  “I am. So ready.”

  “And what?”

  Here she was, ready and willing, and he was paralyzed? By an erection. That had to be one for the record books.

  “I’m concerned.”

  “Of course you are. When aren’t you? Forget it. I’m gonna get naked and we’ll have a throwdown. You and me. Cage match rules. Well, maybe not cage match, considering the shape I’m in, but you get the idea.”

  Cage match? Gulp.

  “What if the match ends fast?” he blurted. Way to go, Ace.

  She cocked her head.

  “It’s...uh...been a while. For me.” He rolled his hand. “Don’t make me say it.”

  Her eyebrows went up. The big “aha” moment. “You’re worried our throwdown will be over fast because you can’t—”

  He waved his hands. “Zzzzpppp. No need to expand. Please!”

  But she went for the button on his pants. “You’re a head case. If the first time ends quick, there’s always a second. Or perhaps a third. The night is far from over.” She drew his fly down, then looked back at him, her gaze right on his. “Shall we?”

  That was all the insanity his mind needed. “You’re on, babe.”

  Simultaneously, she was shoving his pants down while he lifted her shirt off. Then she kicked out of her pants, lowering herself sideways on the bed when her feet got tied up in the legs. “Ow,” she said. “Crap. That hurts.”

  He knelt do
wn next to her and grabbed her feet. “Stop. I’ll do this.”

  And he did. Slowly, he eased one foot then the other out of her pants and tossed them aside. Propped on her elbows, she watched him, her eyes focused on his every move while he glided his fingers up her legs. Strong legs. Not skinny, but toned from yoga. Solid.

  Everything about her was solid.

  His lips followed the path his fingers took and Jillian watched him. “You’re not such a Boy Scout after all.”

  He circled his tongue over her thigh and laughed when she flopped back on the bed. “Boy Scouts have many talents, you know.”

  “I’m hoping I will see all of them. Tonight. When I’m not sleeping because I’m having so many orgasms.”

  “Way to pressure a guy.”

  “Hey, you’re the one who said you were good in bed.”

  He tucked two fingers into her underwear. “Prepare to scream.”

  “I’m prepared.”

  “How fond of these underwear are you?”

  “Not very.”

  He reached up, gripped them with both hands and tore them. “That way you don’t have to move. I can just help myself.”

  “I like it.”

  “Somehow, I thought you would.” He ran his hand up her belly and cupped her breast. “This bra needs to go.”

  “Front closure.”

  “I love when things are easy.”

  He straddled her and his erection pressed into her thigh, causing her to groan. “Wow.”

  He undid the bra and pushed it to the side, trailing kisses over each spot his hands touched. She grabbed his face with one hand and brought him up for a mind-bending kiss. And, damn, he was ready. His ravenous, neglected body needed sex. Pure and simple, he needed to satisfy that primal urge that had tested him all these months.

  If he didn’t think she’d run screaming, he’d enter her and get rid of the chaotic overload in his brain. Then they could get down to the business of making love.

  He needed fast, hot sex. Right now. With her body beat to hell, he couldn’t risk hurting her.

  She knocked on his head. “Hey, fella.”

  He grinned down at her. “My brain. It’s crashing.”

  “I can tell.”

  “How about I screw you blind this first time and I’ll make it up to you the second time? I’ll be gentle.” He nuzzled her neck. “Promise.”

  She sucked in a breath, but opened her legs. “I say, what are you waiting for, Boy Scout?”

  His mind got quiet, yet his head pounded. Using extreme care, he pushed her legs up and entered her in one smooth motion that left them both gasping.

  Months he’d denied himself, and his body took a second to adjust to the fierce pleasure of being inside a woman.

  Inside Jillian.

  And then he began to move, hoping he wasn’t hurting her, but the way she urged him on and gripped the bedspread, she just might like her sex a little on the adventurous side.

  She shoved his hands off her legs. “I want on top. Now.”

  Together they rolled and no sooner had he hit his back than she started rolling her hips. He grabbed her hands and squeezed and she grinned down at him.

  He pumped his hips and the roaring in his head started. “Oh, shit.”

  “What?”

  “It’s gonna be over quick.”

  She pumped harder. “It’s okay. We’ll go slow next time. And then the next time.”

  Groaning, she pressed herself down onto him. “Jillian, you’re killing me. I can’t take it.”

  He rolled her back over, shoved her legs up again and went to town, his mind reeling and demanding he be gentle, but his body needed the release that twelve months of celibacy had denied him.

  The orgasm hit him hard, searing through him until his body couldn’t take it anymore. He caught himself before he completely collapsed on top of her. His breaths came in short, painful gasps and from somewhere, he realized Jillian was running her hands over his back and ass. Just a light touch of fingertips while his dead weight pressed her into the mattress.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked.

  “Nope. Kind of wild. And totally fun.”

  “I’ll say.”

  He slid out of her and rolled to his side, taking her with him. He wouldn’t let go. Not for even a few seconds. He’d never been a huge cuddler but after that, it seemed criminal to let her go.

  She tickled her fingers over his belly. “Remember when I said I didn’t want to love you?”

  “Yep.”

  “I lied.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  By 9:00 a.m., Lynx was in his office humming “Back in the Saddle Again” while scrolling through his emails.

  “Hey, Boy Scout.” Vic stood in the doorway and Lynx stopped humming.

  “Go away.”

  Vic stepped into the office. “You missed pancakes and eggs at my house this morning.”

  “Now I see why you’re losing your girlish figure.”

  “My ass, dickweed. My weight hasn’t budged. The agony of teenagers keeps me trim.”

  Lynx went back to his emails. “You get to do it again in fourteen years.”

  “Kill me now.”

  Clearly, Vic was not leaving. Lynx sighed and rocked back in his chair. “Thanks for babysitting me last night.”

  “I didn’t babysit. You had a bad night.”

  Massive understatement. He wouldn’t tell Vic the night ended on a high—very high—note. Right now, he was attempting to not psychoanalyze blowing his one-year mark. As much as he could obsess over it, he wanted to focus on the positives of feeling like himself again, not some tortured pansy-ass who’d thrown his life away. Addiction recovery didn’t have to mean he couldn’t care about someone. Beyond that, he refused to let himself believe he and Jillian had made a mistake.

  Later, they’d have to face the fact that, aside from the outstanding sex, they’d had a major blowout last night and had yet to discuss it. Without question, the sex proved a nice distraction, but they needed to decide what the hell they should do about each other. For now, he didn’t want to think too hard on it. Thinking too hard, in his world, meant obsessing. And obsessing was never good for a man in recovery.

  For once, he’d give himself a break and not think.

  Gavin stuck his head through the doorway and saved Lynx from Vic’s curious stare. I’m popular this morning. “Hey,” Lynx said, “what’s up?”

  “Got some intel for you on Stennar Pharm.”

  “The headshrinker is on the case,” Vic said.

  Vic, being a tactical guy, couldn’t quite grasp Gavin’s nonviolent approach to matters. From day one at Taylor, he and Vic had clashed. In a big way. They respected each other, but their opinions stretched far and wide. At the moment, all Lynx cared about was what Gavin’s FBI contacts had on Stennar Pharm.

  “Don’t dog him.”

  Vic slapped his hands over his chest. “Me?”

  “Yes, you. I need him. Getting under his skin isn’t gonna help.”

  “How’s this?” Vic made a show of clearing his throat. “Good morning, Headshrinker.”

  “Knuckle dragger,” Gavin shot back. “Good morning to you.”

  “See,” Vic said, “it’s all good.”

  Lynx looked at Gavin. “It’s difficult, but try to ignore the asshole in the room. What have you got?”

  Shoving a legal pad at him, Gavin said, “Stennar Pharm is run by Ted Ingrams.”

  “Got that.”

  “He’s the CEO of several pharmaceutical distributorships in the U.S. and possibly some overseas. The FBI hasn’t been able to tie him to any fraud—yet—but they’re not convinced he’s squeaky clean.”

  Lynx perused Gavin’s
notes. “Is he shipping drugs to the U.S.? I thought it was illegal for overseas third-parties to ship prescription drugs here.”

  “It is. Only FDA approved drugs that have been manufactured at FDA inspected facilities are legal. Your guy hasn’t been caught doing anything illegal, but they know who he is. With the privacy laws overseas, they haven’t been able to get any info on the foreign companies.”

  Vic let out a low whistle and propped a hip on the desk.

  “What do they suspect?” Lynx asked.

  “Like we talked about the other night, the task force thinks he’s selling hard to get drugs at an inflated cost. Supply and demand. They’re not sure where he’s getting the drugs and suspect they’re coming from overseas. Janet is digging into his U.S. companies. She’ll see what she can find on the owners.”

  “Ingrams isn’t the owner?”

  “Don’t know yet. Stennar Pharm is owned by Visionary Pharmaceutical Distribution. It’s incorporated overseas.”

  Lynx jotted the name. “I’ll make some calls. See what I can find.”

  Except Mike had told him to lie low. He’d have to do this without rattling any cages.

  The first call would be to Jillian to see if she knew anything about Ingrams running foreign companies.

  * * *

  That evening, Jillian opened her front door and the look on her face, that half smile and closed eyes—not quite relief, but close—stabbed Lynx in the gut. He’d called to let her know he’d be coming by with intel he’d received on Stennar Pharm and didn’t argue when she offered dinner.

  She opened her eyes and stared at him for a long second. He knew what she was looking for. It was what people did with addicts. I’m clean. Inside and out.

  He couldn’t be angry. Not much anyway. Hadn’t he admitted he’d thought about relapsing the night before? What did he expect from someone predisposed to expecting the worst from people?

  She walked through the house to the kitchen, where she’d set out cheese and crackers and was putting together a meal.

  He followed behind. Her ass looked exceptional in jeans. Hey, he was still a man and men noticed those things. “We should talk about our argument last night.”