Take Me Harder

by Jackie Ashenden

  Relief wound through him. “Good. Because…shit, Ava. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Yes, well, like I said, you didn’t.” She turned away back to the coffee, but he didn’t miss the odd note in her voice, that sounded almost like she was…offended by the fact that he hadn’t hurt her. Which was weird. What the fuck was up with that?

  “So what happened yesterday?” She reached for the carton of milk, pouring some into his coffee without asking him if he wanted it, which he didn’t. “You were so angry, Rush.”

  His jaw tightened. He really didn’t want to talk about what Dev had told him. That was for no one’s consumption but his. “Nothing,” he lied. “Dealing with douchebags always pisses me off.”

  The glance she gave him was openly skeptical. “Nothing? Really? You had six shots in a row. And then you looked like you wanted to murder someone.”

  Unease twisted inside him. He didn’t like that she’d been able to see his fury. Didn’t like that it had been so obvious to her. Getting pissed and baiting his brothers was one thing, but being in a murderous fury with Ava? It was high time to head this one off at the pass. “Like I said, it was nothing. But hey, you’ll be pleased to know that I have some information about Troy.”

  “Oh?” She paused in her fussing, her eyes narrowing. “What do I have to do to get it this time?”

  Honey, you could suck my cock, right here, right now.

  Rush gritted his teeth. No, he was done being a douche to her. After what she’d done for him last night, it was time to try being the friend he’d told her he still was. “Not a damn thing,” he said gruffly. “Except maybe passing me that fucking coffee.”

  A crease appeared between her brows. But then she pushed the coffee mug along the counter toward him. “There’s sugar if you want it.”

  He stepped away from the doorframe and came into the kitchen proper, moving over to where she stood and picking up the coffee mug. She watched him with a wary expression, as if he was a dangerous animal she wasn’t entirely sure of.

  The need to show her exactly why she should be unsure gathered inside him, but he made himself hold tight to the coffee mug instead, needing a little pain in order to get his raging libido to calm the fuck down.

  Shit, maybe he should have dealt with himself when he’d woken up, used his hand and gotten himself off to Cagney and Lacey up in her bedroom.

  Making a mess of all that pink gingham? Nice one, asshole.

  He took a swallow of the coffee. It was horribly milky, but at least it was hot. “Okay,” he said, trying to pull himself together. “So Troy is having some kind of full-on party at his ranch down south this weekend. He does this from time to time—it’s like a criminal summit, with all his contacts and the leaders of various other criminal industries.”

  Ava crossed her arms over her chest, hiding her gorgeous breasts, which was a damn shame, but probably a good thing for his state of mind. “Right. And what does that mean?”

  “I have a…problem of my own to sort out, so I’ve managed to get myself an invite. While I’m there, I’ll arrange a little face time with some of Troy’s assholes. Stephen Collins, for example, since he’s Troy’s right-hand man. He might have some info about your mom that I could persuade him to tell me about.”

  Ava frowned and then, much to his annoyance, began to chew on her lip. “Maybe I should come with you.”

  His protective instincts rose, sudden and absolute. “No,” he said flatly. “Hell no. Didn’t you get the part where I said ‘criminal summit’?”

  “So? It wouldn’t be like I’d be there on my own, not if you were there too.”

  Rush prayed for patience. “I told you I’d get the confirmation—if there’s any to get—and I meant it.”

  Her white teeth were nipping her perfect bottom lip, and he was filled with the almost uncontrollable urge to bite it himself, to see what would happen if he did, what sound she’d make. Whether she’d tremble or gasp or give a hoarse little moan.

  He shifted, trying to drag his attention from her mouth back to the pounding in his head, which was proving less useful as a distraction thanks to the fact that the aspirin was doing its job and it was fading. “You’re not going.” He eyed her from over the top of his coffee mug. “So don’t even think about it.”

  She cocked her head, the crease between her brows deepening, silky red curls sliding over her shoulders. The movement drew his gaze and he couldn’t stop himself from following the delicate contours of her collarbones and down, over the blue and white stripes of her tank top, to the soft outline of her nipples.

  His jeans began to suddenly feel way too tight.

  “What’s the problem you have to deal with?” she asked.

  “None of your damn business.”

  “Fine, don’t tell me. Is it serious?”

  He gave her a narrow look. “Why?”

  “Because if it is, you probably won’t have time to deal with mine. But if I came with you—”

  “No,” he snapped, lust beginning to sink its sharp hooks into him, making him feel restless and antsy. “Absolutely fucking not.”

  “If I came with you,” she went on, as if he hadn’t spoken, “I could talk to this Collins guy myself, see what I could get out of him while you could deal with…whatever it is you have to deal with.”

  “Sure, I could do that. And not worry at all about you getting yourself killed because you said the wrong thing in front of someone you shouldn’t.”

  She glared at him. “What is it with you Redmonds? I’m not a little girl anymore, Rush. I graduated at the top of my class at the police academy and won prizes for my marksmanship. I’ve also spent at least a year being an actual cop and dealing with actual criminals. I know what I’m doing.”

  Rush put down his mug, the irritation and lust tightening all his muscles. Making him want to reach out and grab her, maybe shake some sense into her.

  Maybe screw some sense into her, even?

  “No,” he said, to the voice in his head and to her. “No fucking way. Because you are a little girl, Ava. I don’t care what class you graduated at the top of or what fucking targets you can hit. And your year of dealing with drunks, parking violations, and a few teenage car thieves has got nothing whatsoever to do with cartel kingpins and arms dealers. You get me?” He’d taken a step toward her, which he hadn’t meant to. “You coming along would be like fucking Bambi wandering into a lion’s den, and I’m not going to let that happen.”

  A look of pure frustration crossed her face. “I’m not stupid, Rush. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think I could do it. But this would be like going undercover, right? I could handle it.”

  He took another step, because clearly she wasn’t listening to him and also clearly he was asking for trouble. “You can’t handle it. Jesus Christ, you think it’s all dressing up and pretending you’re someone else for shits and giggles? You’d be surrounded by people who’d shoot you in the head if they even so much as suspected you were a cop.”

  Her mouth became a mutinous line. “Then I’ll make sure I don’t look like a cop.”

  “Oh yeah?” He took another step, not really knowing why he was getting close to her, not when he’d decided he was going to be a friend for once, knowing only that he was unable to resist. “What the hell else would you look like then?”

  Ava lifted her chin, the copper in her gaze flashing bright. “I could look like your girlfriend.”

  —

  Rush’s gaze widened and he froze. “My girlfriend?” he echoed. “Are you fucking nuts?”

  He didn’t come any closer, which was just as well because she didn’t think she could deal with it if he did. Having him standing only a few inches away, shirtless, was bad enough as it was.

  Really, a guy who’d just woken up from a drunken stupor and who had to be nursing a pretty major hangover had no business being that hot. It was difficult to even look at him because the sheer sight of all that tanned, inked, and scarred skin and the hard,
cut muscles of his chest and abs was making her breathless.

  She didn’t like tattoos. She didn’t like scars. And she’d never been particularly interested in muscles either, but, dear God, Rush was a work of art, and she couldn’t stop staring.

  When he’d first appeared in the doorway she’d thought she was going to have a heart attack, because there he’d stood, wearing nothing but the jeans that hung low on his lean hips, looking like he’d just stepped out of an aftershave commercial. He must have had a shower, because his short hair had been damp, the gold darkening into amber, and there were drops of water lingering on the skin of his chest and throat. Golden stubble lined his strong jaw, and suddenly nothing had seemed more important to her than running her fingers along it, just to see whether it was prickly or soft.

  And then he’d given her the strangest look, as if he’d been as shocked by her as she’d been by him, which had made her realize that she wasn’t the only one standing around half naked. Sure, she had a tank on and her sleep shorts, but she wasn’t wearing either a bra or panties, and the way he’d been looking at her made her certain that he was as fully aware of that as she was.

  It didn’t mean anything, of course. He was a man who liked sex and as he’d proved last night, it didn’t matter who the woman was—he just wanted a female body.

  So she’d forced away her breathlessness and concentrated on making the coffee, trying to ignore the way he looked at her, the heat in his eyes and her own desperate hunger. Which was way easier to do when she imagined he only wanted her because she was the nearest available woman and not because he actually wanted her.

  And he didn’t, of course he didn’t. She had to keep telling herself that, especially now, when he was so close all she had to do was reach out and she’d be able to touch the warm, golden skin of his chest.

  “I’m not nuts,” she said, and folded her arms as if that could keep her frantically beating heart inside her chest. It was probably a stupid idea and she’d known that as soon as it had popped out of her mouth. But now that it was out, she couldn’t stop thinking about it, since it really seemed like the perfect solution to her. “Come on. If you brought me along as your girlfriend, no one would even blink twice.”

  “Apart from the fact that you look nothing like any of my damn girlfriends.”

  “Yes, I’m aware of that,” she snapped, a sliver of hurt sliding between her ribs, though she tried to ignore it. “I know I’m not in Candy’s league.”

  His gaze narrowed, as if some of that hurt had shown in her voice and he’d heard it. “Shit, that wasn’t a criticism,” he said which meant that dammit, he had heard it. Great. How humiliating. “I only meant that you look…Jesus. You’re a fucking milk commercial. Or a yogurt advertisement or something.”

  The hurt slid deeper, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it. “Thanks, Rush. But you can stop now.”

  He let out a breath, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “Look, you’re the girl next door, Ava. You’re the fucking sheriff’s daughter. You’re pretty and wholesome and there’s no way in hell anyone would believe you’re my girlfriend.”

  Pretty. Wholesome. Somehow those two words, spoken like they were the very worst kind of flaws, made her feel…bad. God, she knew she was a tall redhead, without much of a figure. And she was still a virgin. But she’d never much cared about those things before. Now, though, with Rush standing in front of her, the very incarnation of a gorgeous, hot bad boy, she found she did care. A lot.

  So your mother’s killer may be still roaming around and you’re feeling sad because he thinks you’re wholesome? Get it together, idiot. You’ve got more important things to worry about.

  Yes, she so did. Like getting him to bring her along this weekend. Sure, she knew it was going to be dangerous; she wasn’t stupid. But this was a chance she just couldn’t give up. She didn’t want him doing her dirty work for her, and besides, she owed it to both of her parents to follow up on it herself.

  She set her jaw, looking him in the eye. “Isn’t that why God invented makeup?”

  “There’s not enough makeup in the world to hide those freckles, Ava. And none of my girlfriends would have freckles. Besides, I don’t even have girlfriends, let alone freckled ones.”

  Her throat felt tight. She’d always kind of accepted the way she’d looked. She knew she was never going to be like her tall, slender, pretty mother, but at least wearing her uniform made her feel like she could be like her mother in one way. That she wasn’t merely the plain motherless kid, ignored by her grieving father.

  Maybe it was because she wasn’t wearing her uniform now. She was only in her usual sleeping gear, her pale, freckled skin on show, her impossible hair loose and getting in the way. It made her feel vulnerable, like a snail without its shell.

  She blinked. Hard. “I know you’ve got a hangover and you’re probably feeling like crap. And sure, you went to jail for something you didn’t do, and yes, you’re probably really furious about that. But all those things do not give you the right to be such a complete jackass to me.”

  “What?” His head went back as if she’d struck him, his eyes widening. “What did I say?”

  “Oh, come on, don’t pretend you don’t know.” A hot anger was burning inside her and she wasn’t sure where it had come from, only that something about the dismissive way he’d talked about her appearance had lit something inside her. Did he see her as someone he felt sorry for? And had he always seen her that way? Even back when she’d been a kid? “ ‘Not enough makeup in the world, Ava.’ ‘I don’t have freckled girlfriends, Ava.’ ”

  This time it was his turn to blink. “I was trying to—”

  “I don’t care what you were trying to do, Rush. You can be a jackass to everyone else, that’s fine, but don’t you dare be one to me. Not about something this important.” She was shaking, and she had to fold her arms even tighter to stop the sudden hot burn of emotion inside her. “This is about my mother. And you know how important that is to me. You know. So I don’t care whether I look like one of your stupid girlfriends or not. Fact is, I’m going.”

  The words echoed around the kitchen, her voice too loud, the words too vehement. And she knew that somehow this had become about more than just going to this stupid crime party or getting justice for her mom. This had something to do with the way he saw her, with the way she wanted him to see her. Maybe she was overreacting, but she didn’t care. This was important to her. And she wasn’t backing down.

  He said nothing for a long moment, staring at her, his expression unreadable. Then he lifted his hand and, with a lazy movement, pulled off the T-shirt he had slung around his neck and put it on the counter beside him. “You’re just not getting it, are you?”

  She eyed him, suddenly wary of the mild note in his voice. “Getting what?”

  “This.” He took a step toward her. Then another.

  Her whole body tensed. “What are you doing?”

  Rush said nothing, moving toward her with the kind of fluid, predatory grace that reminded her of nothing so much as a hunting cat. It made her back away before she’d even had time to think it through.

  “Rush?” Her voice had gone all breathless.

  He didn’t answer, heading straight for her, and then the hard edge of the sink was pressing against her back, while he stopped right in front of her and put his hands on the edges of the counter on either side of her, caging her.

  She took a sharp breath as the heat of his body surrounded her. His hard chest was at her front, his powerful arms on either side of her, heavily muscled shoulders blocking the rest of the kitchen from view. She had to tilt her head to look up at him and as soon as she did, she knew she’d made a terrible mistake.

  Something hot burned in his eyes, something dangerous. Something that made her heartbeat hammer in her head, so loud she was sure he could hear it too.

  “You don’t seem to understand, Ava.” His usual smooth drawl had deepened, become rougher, dark
er. “I’m trying to protect you.”

  She could barely breathe. The look in his eyes was making her feel dizzy and the scent of him, of his hot skin and the fresh-laundry scent that was all Rush, made her want to bury her head in his neck. “P-protect me? Protect me from what?”

  “What do you think?” He lifted a hand and slowly, so very, very slowly, slid his fingers around her throat, his big, hot palm lying against her skin like an ember. “From me.”

  Her heartbeat was racing now and she couldn’t get any air, and it wasn’t because he was holding her too tight. No, it was because every cell in her body had been drawn into full, aching awareness of his hand and where it was. Her skin felt far too sensitive, like the top layer had been stripped away, leaving her nothing but a bunch of raw nerve endings. She wanted desperately to pull away just to relieve the sensation overload, yet another part of her didn’t want to move.

  “I don’t need protection from you,” she said thickly, unable to look away from the intensity in his brilliant turquoise gaze.

  One corner of his scarred mouth curled in a smile that had nothing to do with amusement. A dirty, dark smile that made something inside her shiver with excitement. “Yeah, honey,” he murmured. “You really do.”

  Then before she could reply, he bent his head and covered her mouth with his.

  Chapter 10

  She tasted exactly like he’d imagined. Of honey and summer and strawberries and sweetness. Of heat, of desire, the faint edge of coffee only adding to the flavor that exploded in his head, alcoholic and rich and even better than the really expensive bourbon he used to steal from his father’s liquor cabinet.

  It wasn’t enough. He wanted more. So he slid the hand around her throat up and pressed his thumb down on her lower lip, opening her mouth so he could slide his tongue deep inside it.

  This was very bad, he knew that. He’d told himself he was going to be a friend to her from now on, the friend he used to be. Yet how could he be that friend when she was temptation on two legs and he was a guy who’d never met a temptation he didn’t want to take complete advantage of?