Tempting Faith

by Susan Mallery

  Ten minutes, she thought. She would give him ten minutes, and if he didn’t stop pacing and go to bed, she was going to demand he tell her what was going on.

  She actually waited fifteen because she chickened out twice before finally throwing back the covers on the queen-size bed and stepping onto the floor. Her bare toes curled against the cold wood. She opened her door and stepped into the hall.

  She found Cort in her small kitchen. He stood beside the Formica table, leaning against the window, staring out into the dark forest.

  He’d brushed his hair away from his face, and the dampness made the gold-blond strands look darker. Jeans covered the lower half of his body, but his chest and back were bare. His muscles bunched under his skin as if he was steeling himself against whatever troubled him. He hadn’t bothered to shave, and stubble outlined his jaw. He braced one arm up high on the window frame, the other hung at his side. Both hands were clenched into fists.

  “Why aren’t you asleep?” he asked without turning toward her.

  He didn’t sound angry. That gave her hope. She risked moving closer to him. She hovered by the counter before stepping toward the table and chairs. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked softly.

  Slowly he lowered his arm and turned to look at her. She almost cried out at the raw anguish in his eyes. “You don’t want to know, Faith. Go back to bed and leave me alone.”

  “I can’t,” she said.

  “I’m still just like one of your cats, aren’t I? You can’t bear to see any of us suffering.” He shrugged. “I’m not bleeding anywhere for you to patch me up. Sorry.”

  He wasn’t like one of her cats. He was far more dangerous. A man like him could leave her battered and broken, without ever touching her. That’s because it was more than her body that was at risk; it was her heart. But he was right about one thing—she couldn’t turn her back on his pain.

  “Don’t apologize,” she said. “I heard you pacing and I want to do whatever I can. Would you like a drink?”

  “I still haven’t recovered from the rum.”

  “Oh.” She twisted her hands together, not sure if she should leave. Obviously he didn’t want to tell her what was wrong. “If you’re sure I can’t.” He didn’t say anything. She drew in a breath. “Good night.” She turned toward the hallway.

  “Wait.”

  He’d spoken the words so softly, she wasn’t sure she’d heard him. “What did you say?”

  He pulled a chair back and invited her to sit down. “Don’t go. Please. You’re right. Something did happen.”

  She walked over to the chair and sat. He took the seat next to her. His elbows rested on his knees as he clasped his hands together. Cort studied his white knuckles and rubbed a scar at the base of his thumb.

  “I remembered the rest of it,” he said abruptly. “I got my memory back.”

  It took her a minute to figure out what he was talking about. “Your last mission? That’s terrific. Now you can—”

  “No.” He cut her off. “It’s not like that. I—” He swore. “I told you I was sent in to take care of a rogue agent? That he’d turned?”

  Faith shifted in the hard-backed chair and pulled her T-shirt down until it reached her knees. “Yes, but you didn’t kill him. You told me that, too.”

  “I was prepared to. When he refused to come back with me, I had my gun out and was ready to get it over with.”

  She swallowed the sudden bitter taste in her mouth. She was sorry now that she’d pried. She knew whatever he said was going to haunt her for a long time.

  He raised his head and looked at her. Despair and selfloathing swirled in his brown eyes. Pain deepened the lines by his mouth. “He died for me. To save my useless butt. And I don’t know why.”

  “Why he turned in the first place, or why he saved you?”

  “Both. Either. I don’t care. I want answers and I can’t get any.”

  “How did it happen?” she asked.

  “The bad guys showed up just as our rescue plane landed. I took a bullet in the leg.” He jerked his head toward his healed wound. “Dan hauled me out to the plane, but refused to come on board. He stood there like some hell-bent hero and shot at them. While they pumped his body full of lead, we got away.”

  She leaned toward him and gently touched his cheek. He didn’t pull back. She stroked the warm skin, her palm rasping against the stubble. “Maybe he knew he had nowhere to go. If he came back here, he would have been tried and sent to prison.”

  Cort laughed without humor. “Dan would rather have died than go there.” He stopped suddenly. “That bastard. He died anyway.”

  “But this way, he gave his life for something good. He saved you.”

  He looked up at her. “Hardly a fair exchange.” He straightened up. Her hand fell away and she clutched her arms to her chest.

  “It used to be easy,” he said. “We knew who the enemies were. Now the lines are blurring. Jeff keeps telling me to come in. Maybe I should. Maybe it’s clearer if you have the big picture. Maybe it’s too late for any of it. All the good guys are dead.”

  “Was Dan one of the good guys?”

  He leaned back in his chair. “You like asking the tough questions, don’t you?”

  She shrugged. “Just trying to be a friend.”

  “Are we friends, Faith?”

  “I hoped so.”

  “I’m not sure you need a friend like me.”

  She wanted to tell him that she needed a friend exactly like him. More than that, she needed a man like him. This night, the trouble with the cubs, the passage of time, Cort’s leaving getting closer and closer, all reminded her how tenuous everything had become. In a few short days, her life would revert to normal. Cort would be nothing but a memory.

  His pain was as tangible as the man himself. It radiated out from him and surrounded her, seeping inside until she wanted to weep for his suffering. It wasn’t because he reminded her of her cats and she wanted to heal his wounds. It was more than that. She had come to care for this man. More than was safe.

  She wanted to blurt out that fact, but knew he wouldn’t take comfort in her feelings. Instead she risked speaking a smaller truth.

  “I do need a friend like you,” she whispered.

  His brown eyes glowed as if lit with a fire. “Not as much as I need you.”

  The flame of his desire stirred her own to life. His uncharacteristic admission gave her courage. Without giving herself time to think, she rose to her feet and held out her hand.

  He stared at her. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “Don’t think anymore,” she told him. She bent down, took his hand in hers and tugged him to his feet. He rose slowly, towering over her.

  “You tempt me,” he said, his gaze locking with hers.

  Her knees trembled; he made her weak and yet at the same time, incredibly strong. “Good. I want—”

  She never got to say what she wanted.

  Chapter 13

  Even as his mouth came down on hers, she clutched at his shoulders for balance. His skin was hot beneath her fingers. The anticipation of their kiss left her dizzy. She remembered the passion that had flared between them before.

  The moment his lips pressed against hers, she felt as if her bones were slowly melting. Firm lips, soft pressure and hard, hard heat molded to her. Instantly, she parted to admit him. His tongue swept inside. She tasted the faint mint of toothpaste and something else. Something heady and sweet that could only be Cort himself. She met his caresses with slow sweeping strokes of her own. His stubble prickled her skin, adding to the deluge of sensation. She clung to him as her world narrowed to this moment. Her muscles quivered, and she feared she might collapse right there on the kitchen floor.

  His hands moved up and down her sides, each pass raising her oversize T-shirt higher and higher until her midriff was exposed. He caressed her bare stomach down to her panties, then moved behind and cupped the curve of her buttocks.

  She
angled her head to deepen the kiss, and at the same time pressed her hips against him. His jeans felt rough against her belly, and his hardness strained against his button fly.

  She moved her hands up his neck to the silk of his goldblond hair. The short strands slipped through her fingers, their coolness a delicious contrast to the heat flaring between them.

  He raised his head slightly and gazed down at her. Passion drew the lines of his face taut. His mouth was moist from her kiss, his lips slightly parted. His bare chest rose and fell with each breath he took.

  “Faith.” He spoke her name softly.

  The sound whispered against her skin. She lowered her hands until they rested on his arms. Beneath her fingers, his muscles tightened, the sinewy length defined and powerful. Their eyes met. She saw the wanting there, and the affection. In his way, he cared for her. It was enough.

  He squeezed her derriere. The need between them rose to an unbearable pitch. She could hear it filling the room, pressing against her until she could barely breathe. She felt as if she had wanted him forever. She’d needed him for even longer. She had been waiting for the right moment, the right man, to risk sharing her heart and her body again. And now she wanted to be a part of him, joining in the ancient ritual of love.

  At the exact moment he bent down to kiss her again, she reached up to pull him close. Their mouths joined in a conflagration of tastes and pressures. She licked his lips frantically as if he were her only source of sustenance. He grasped the hem of her T-shirt and pulled. They parted long enough for him to draw it over her head. He paused to slide it gently over the bandage on her arm. When he’d freed the garment, he tossed it aside and reached for her breasts.

  She swelled under the onslaught of his tender touch. Strong hands cupped her curves, weighing them in his palms, moving across her hard nipples. She moaned her pleasure as he swept his fingers over and around her breasts. He bent down to take her in his mouth. Sensation shot through her, reaching to her fingertips and toes, then collecting between her thighs.

  He stepped back enough to pull her panties down to the floor, then grabbed her by the waist and lifted her onto the kitchen table. The tabletop felt cold on her bare derriere. She gasped at the contact. He grinned, then moved between her legs and urged her to lie back. His strong arms protected her from the table, while her position raised her exposed chest to him and thrust her breasts forward. He nibbled at her jaw and neck, moving lower, leaving a wet trail across her throat and her chest. His stubble rasped delightfully. His hands supported her head as he took first one, then the other nipple in his mouth. He dueled with the puckered tips, sucked them deeply and raised up far enough to blow on the trembling, damp skin. He rubbed his fingers through her long hair, massaging her scalp, easing tension even as his mouth sought to increase it.

  She arched against him. Her bare femininity brushed against his jeans and his hardness. She rocked her hips gently, teasing him as well as herself, but it wasn’t enough. The wanting grew. She stretched her arms out to undo the first button, but couldn’t reach it, so she brushed her hands on his arms and continued to move herself against him, trying frantically to ease the ache. He groaned softly with each flexing of her body.

  He pulled her upright and kissed her hard. Their lips pressed together. Her heart pounded and her lungs burned for more air, as her blood surged through her body. Pressure and hunger built inside her. There was no time to think or analyze. She could only feel. Spreading her legs wide, she urged him closer. His jeans stood between them. She reached for the buttons and quickly popped them open. His hands clutched at her shoulders. His fingers bit into her as she freed him. She pushed the jeans to the floor and touched him.

  He filled her hand. All long, hot maleness. So ready. She stared up at his face. He stood with his eyes closed, his expression savage. There was no pretense in their mating. It was primal and necessary. If she didn’t have this man, if he didn’t ease the ache within her, she would perish.

  She stroked his length. He groaned, then opened his eyes and looked at her. His gaze dropped to her hands holding him. Immediately she started to become aware of herself and began to pull away. He put his hand over hers and refused to let her go. Their eyes met. He kept his hand over hers and urged her to move back and forth. Beneath her hand, he felt hot and smooth and hard. Above her hand, the calluses of his palm rubbed her knuckles, and his fingers slipped between hers.

  With each stroke, the fire in his eyes grew brighter. The pulse at the base of his throat thundered in time with her own. Between her thighs, moisture collected in anticipation of her release. She rocked her hips, wanting to ease the ache. At last he pushed her hand away and moved closer to her. He probed her moist center, rubbing his tip against her most sensitive place. She arched her back and let her eyes drift shut.

  Up and down, yet barely moving at all, he teased her until she could do little but writhe at his command. She strained forward, toward her peak. At last, when the release was as inevitable as the tide, he plunged inside of her. Her breath escaped with an audible sound. He pulled her legs tightly around his hips and began to plunge back and forth. Her hands clutched at him; his reached for her breasts and touched her hard nipples. She became lost in the journey, focusing on nothing but the sensation of him driving in and out of her. Deep inside, the pressure built and built until she had to give herself up to his rhythm.

  He let go of her breasts and hauled her up against him. As his mouth claimed her, as she touched his tongue with hers, she plunged into the madness. It swept her along, rippling her muscles around him, as he surged deeper and his release joined hers.

  The fires faded slowly, and she returned to normal. The night was silent except for the sound of their ragged breathing. When Cort tried to ease her back, she clung to him, burying her face in his chest. Now that she’d been sated, sanity returned. She didn’t want to look at him and see what he must think of her. She’d acted like an animal, mating with him like that. She’d had no time to question her actions, she’d simply reacted. She squeezed her eyes shut. They’d done it on the kitchen table!

  But he refused to be put off. He drew her arms from around his neck and brought her hands to his mouth. After kissing each of her palms, he slipped out from between her legs.

  She kept her eyes tightly closed. “Cort, I—”

  “Hush,” he murmured. She felt him reach under her thighs and behind her back, then he was lifting her.

  Her eyes opened. “What are you doing?”

  “Taking you to bed.” He smiled down at her. “It’s a little more civilized, don’t you think?”

  He didn’t look shocked by what they had done, she saw with some relief. Maybe, just maybe, he’d felt the incredible passion, too.

  When he placed her in the center of her mattress, she tensed, waiting to see if he would leave her. She need not have worried. He slipped in next to her and pulled the covers up over both of them. She turned on her side, and he snuggled up behind her, fitting his body around hers. One of his arms rested on her waist. She pulled it between her breasts and laced his fingers through hers. She felt soft kisses on her shoulder.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “You’re welcome. Thank you.”

  She smiled. “It’s never been that…that wild before.” She bit her lip. “You probably think I’m silly.”

  “Never.” He raised up on one elbow and pressed on her shoulder until she half turned to look at him. His gold-flecked eyes still glowed from their inner fire. He touched her swollen mouth with his finger. “It was extraordinary and extremely powerful.” He gave her a rueful grin. “Too powerful. I never thought to ask about protection. I know it’s a little like closing the barn door after the horse has left, but were you protected?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  Cort lowered himself back down onto the bed. He waited for the tidal wave of relief to sweep over him. It had been stupid as hell to make love with Faith without checking to see if she
could get pregnant. For once, though, the thought of being tied down with a relationship and a child didn’t send him reaching for his jeans and car keys.

  It was just exhaustion, he told himself. That and the fact that Faith’s bed was a lot more comfortable than his cot. Or maybe it was the scent of her body. He leaned close to her back and sniffed. She smelled of sex and French perfume.

  The lights he’d set up in front of the building shone through the window blinds. He could just make out the four parallel scars on her shoulder and down her arm. He touched his mouth to those puckered lines. She wiggled against him. Her round derriere brushed against his groin, stirring him back to life. Slowly, he traced the scars with his tongue. The contrast of textures, rough and bumpy on the scars, smooth and silky on her skin, intrigued him. He licked them again.

  “I knew it would be like this,” she murmured.

  “Why?”

  “The alpha male always makes the best mate.”

  He smiled against her. “Am I the alpha male?” he asked, then trailed kisses down her back.

  “Uh-huh.” She sounded distracted.

  He ran his tongue up every bump in her spine, then pushed her long hair aside and nibbled on the back of her neck. She moved her hips back toward him. Need surged between his legs and he felt himself growing harder.

  “What makes me the alpha male?” he asked.

  “Size, courage. The a-ah—”

  He sucked on her earlobe. “Go on.”

  “The ability to lead the pack. Acceptance by others.”

  “Including the female?”

  He leaned over and kissed her throat. She tilted her head to expose herself more. “Especially the female.”

  Her eyes were closed. She looked as relaxed and pliable as a cat getting her ears scratched. But he wasn’t interested in her ears.

  He trailed more kisses down her spine, then tossed back the covers exposing her bare buttocks and legs to view. She gasped when he nibbled the sensitive skin behind her knees. She parted her thighs when he slipped his hand between them and stroked her damp center. She raised her hips back toward him when he nibbled the round curves of her rear. He was already hard and throbbing. He could feel her moistness.