by Dawn Brown
She hit End, cutting Travis off in the middle of his rant. “Don’t you ever knock?”
“Don’t you ever lock the door?” Des moved toward her, those piercing eyes locked with hers. A slow tingle started in her toes and shivered up her body.
“It’s sweltering in here. Besides, there’s a hole in the window,” she reminded him, trying to sound as normal as possible. Why was she so damned shaken anyway? So what if he’d heard her arguing with her ex.
“The owner’s arranged for someone to replace the glass tomorrow. The cost will come out of your damage deposit, though. Who was that on the phone?”
Her face burned hotter. She bent and focused her attention on putting her phone away in her purse. “Um…none of your business.”
“You asked me if I was sleeping with a married woman the first night we met.”
She straightened and grinned. “You didn’t have to tell me.”
“True.” He tucked his hands into his pants pockets. “Who were you on the phone with?”
She gave up. He’d probably just keep asking. Besides, people got divorced all the time. She shouldn’t be embarrassed to admit her marriage had failed. “My ex. The sale of our condo is closing early, and he needs me to go back and sign the paperwork.”
“That’s good news, isn’t it?”
She shrugged. “Sure.”
“Why did you get divorced?”
She folded her arms over her chest and glared. “Are you writing your own book?”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” The humor lacing his tone belied his words. The warmth of his voice wrapped around her, like a fuzzy blanket, drawing her closer.
“I couldn’t have children,” she blurted, and blinked. Had she actually said that out loud? What was she doing? Why would she tell him?
She looked up and tried to gauge his reaction.
Is that why she’d told him? To test him? To see if she would appear lacking to him as well?
He didn’t say anything, just waited for her to continue, his expression unreadable.
She flopped down on the couch and sighed. Oh well, she’d gone this far. “We tried letting it happen naturally for the first year, then came the tests that showed the problem was me. After that, we tried other methods, each one becoming more invasive than the last. In the end, I wanted to get on with life, and Travis wanted to keep trying. So I got on with life and he found someone else to keep trying with.”
“He sounds like an asshole,” Des said, shaking his head and dropping down beside her. “He really left you because you couldn’t have kids?”
Her face heated and she looked away. “Technically, I left him. At the time I was physically and emotionally worn out from the stress. I can’t tell you how exhausting it is when the person who is supposed to love you, warts and all, looks at you like you’re ruining his life—and no matter how hard you try, you can’t give him what he wants.” Her voice hitched. Heat tingled in her cheeks. She had to clear her throat before she could go on. “The thing was, we had great careers, a nice home, friends, family. We had a pretty great life. Not what we thought it would be, but hell, whose is?”
“Did you tell him that?”
“Yeah, and he was furious. He ranted about how I married him knowing he wanted a family…blah, blah, blah. Like I hadn’t heard it all before. For most of our marriage, all I had heard about was what Travis wanted. And I remember looking at him, and all of sudden I was terrified.”
Des’s eyes flashed like quicksilver. “Why? Did he try to hurt you?”
“No, nothing like that,” she said quickly. “I just realized I didn’t love him anymore, and it scared me. I left three days later. I’d hoped, while I was staying with my parents, maybe we could figure out a way to go back to who we used to be, and I would be able to feel what I did before. But he met Sandy a few weeks later.” She forced a little levity into her tone. “That’s my marriage in a nutshell. Pretty boring by today’s standards.”
He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear, his finger brushing sensitive skin. Goose bumps rippled along her flesh, and something pulled tightly low inside her.
“He still sounds like an asshole.”
Warmth started in her belly and crept into her limbs. God, she wanted him to kiss her. Her lips tingled.
“He kind of is. I can’t believe I told you all that.” She struggled to keep her tone normal. Like the sight of him with muted lamplight playing over the smooth angles of his features and his faintly spicy scent teasing her senses didn’t make her body ache.
He grinned. “Me either, but I’m glad you did.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“You know all kinds of stuff about me. Hell, you’ve researched me. I know almost nothing about you. This makes us even.”
“That’s not entirely true. I know hardly anything about you personally.”
He tilted his head sideways and gave her a doubtful smirk. Her finger itched to trace the grooves of his dimples. Instead, she gripped the edge of the cushion and swallowed hard. “It’s true.”
“What do you want to know?”
This was it, her moment to ask him anything. He’d opened the door, but she couldn’t bring herself to mention the murders or his family, to break the heated intimacy building between them.
“Ever been married? Divorced? Engaged? Long-term relationship down the drain?”
“No.” His hungry gaze held hers. “I find the unpredictability of my life less than conducive for maintaining a long-term relationship.”
“You’re only twenty-eight. Lots of time yet.”
His smile broadened. “Wow, that was condescending.”
“I didn’t mean to be.”
“Yes, you did. Reminding yourself I’m younger keeps the barriers up.”
He was probably right. With low, humming energy stretching between them, and the imprint of his touch still warm behind her ear, those barriers seemed more necessary than ever.
A little physical space might help too. She stood and crossed to the table, pretending to concentrate on gathering her notes into a neat pile. “I don’t need to remind myself you’re young.”
He was next to her in instant, his big hands grasping her hips and turning her to face him. “I’m not that young, Shayne.”
There was a terse edge to his voice. Dark thrills shot to her core. She took a step back, but the wall stopped her and he closed the distance until his hard chest nearly brushed hers. His hands cupped both sides of her face, and her pulse fluttered in her throat.
“Des—”
His mouth covered hers, stealing the words with an almost-punishing kiss. Raw heat flooded her system, scrambling her senses. On instinct, she took his tongue into her mouth, tasting him, devouring him, as he did her.
He pressed her back, pinning her against the wall. Mindlessly, she gripped his hips, pulling the jeans-clad erection tight against her and wrapping her leg around the back of his thigh. The wet ache at her center molded to the bulge in his jeans.
His lips moved lower, over her jaw, down the column of her throat, his teeth scraping deliciously over tender skin. She groaned as his fingers curled around the straps of her tank top and bra, tugging the thin straps over her shoulders. His lips followed the trail of exposed skin, leaving a hot, wet path to her breast. He took the plump mound into his mouth, catching the taut nipple between his teeth and sending trills of pain and pleasure soaring through her system.
She gripped his hair while his tongue and teeth played with the sensitive flesh. Her insides tightened and her body trembled on the brink of orgasm.
How did he bring her here so quickly? Des, seven years younger than her, who carried more baggage than a bellhop.
A source for her book.
Reality returned like an autumn wind, slamming a door shut.
“Des.” She pushed against his chest, but he ignored her, his mouth still feasting on her breast. Still sending white-hot spirals along her nerves. Summoning what little sanit
y she had left, she pushed him harder. “We have to stop.”
He lifted his head and stared down at her. The dull glow from the lamp cast his features in shadow and golden light, giving him a dangerously predatory appearance. Disappointment settled over her, heavy and smothering.
“We have to stop,” she repeated.
He shook his head, a slow grin stretching out over his face. “You don’t want to stop.”
His hand ran down the length of her leg, still wrapped around him, stopping at her foot pressed against his buttock as if to urge him on.
Her face heated. Christ, all she needed was a pair of spurs. She dropped her bare foot to the floor with a thud. “Maybe not, but we should.”
He shook his head again, lowering his mouth to her neck just beneath her ear. “I don’t think so.” She shivered as his whispered words tickled her throat. “I think we need to finally see this all the way through.”
“But—” His teeth caught her earlobe and she gasped.
“Forget the book. Forget family bullshit. Just us tonight. You and me.” He sucked the soft flesh then added almost pleadingly, “Just us, just for one night.”
“It’s more than the book,” she said, desperately clinging to her rational self.
“Oh?”
“I’m older than you.”
He frowned. “This again? Exactly how old are you?”
“Thirty-five.”
“Seven years, huh? Somehow I think we can overcome the vast difference in our ages.” His teeth nipped at her collarbone. “Besides, I think the idea of your corrupting me is kind of hot.”
Oh God, me too.
Her body ached for the feel of him on her, inside her. And her fingers itched to touch the hot smoothness of his skin.
Des pulled back a little. His eyes, dark and fathomless, held hers. “Well?”
Making love with him would be a mistake, no doubt about it. One shake of her head and it would be over.
The hell with it. If she was going to crash and burn, might as well enjoy the ride.
Chapter Twelve
“Most didn’t believe the union between Robert and Gwen to be a love match. Some claimed Gwen was merely using Robert to get what she wanted.”
—excerpt from Blood and Bone by Shayne Reynolds
Des watched the play of emotions flit over Shayne’s face as she considered his question. He held his breath, waiting for the response. Every muscle in his body pulled taut. His cock, impossibly hard, ached inside his jeans.
Shayne’s dark gaze held his, but she didn’t speak. Instead, she gripped the edge of her top, pulled it over her head and dropped it to the floor. “Does that answer your question?”
He started to speak and couldn’t. All the spit in his mouth had vanished. With his gaze still fixed on Shayne’s smooth, swollen breasts and tight nipples, he cleared his throat and tried again. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Good.” Her voice was soft and a little gravelly. “But there is the small matter of protection.”
Shit. He hadn’t even considered that. “I’m healthy. When I started at the realty office, I had to have a complete physical. I haven’t been with anyone since.” Actually, Heddi had insisted on the physical before agreeing to let him take on Julia’s debt. She couldn’t have him finding a loophole out of their deal—like dropping dead.
“Me too. When Travis and I were trying for a baby, I was tested for everything under the sun.” She shot him a wry smile. “And clearly pregnancy isn’t an issue.”
“So we’re good?”
“Oh, yeah. We’re good.” She took a step toward him, but he put his hands on her hips and stopped her.
Confusion clouded her dark eyes. “What?”
“I want to see you.” He tugged open the button on her shorts. Drew down the zipper. “All of you.”
Her breath hitched as he pushed the denim and flimsy, silk panties over her hips, exposing her tanned body one glorious inch at a time. He gripped her hand and helped her step free of the tangled clothes at her feet. His gaze traveled up her long, shapely legs, flat stomach, pert breasts, smooth shoulders, and, at last, settled on her face, searing the image onto his brain.
“My God,” he murmured, hardly aware he was speaking out loud. “You’re incredible.”
A faint blush tinged her cheeks and she nipped at her bottom lip. He bent his head to capture it, but her hand on his chest stopped him.
“You next,” she said, barely above a whisper. A white-hot charge fissured through his system. Her fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt, unfastening each one with surprising speed and dexterity.
“You’re good at this.” He ran his hands along the gentle swell of her hips, over the globes of her bottom, cupping and kneading the flesh. The urge to explore and touch almost as strong as the urge to thrust himself inside her.
“I’ve given this moment a lot of thought.”
The idea of her fantasizing about him fed his gathering hunger. He wanted to pull her against him, spread her open and drive himself home.
Shit, slow down. Show a little finesse.
With his shirt open, her slender fingers traveled up his stomach, over his chest. A shudder rippled through him. Her hands slid to his shoulders, then pulled his shirt down his arms. He was ready to explode, but somehow managed to hold himself in check, reveling in her caress.
When she reached for his fly, he stopped her. “I don’t think so.”
“Fair is fair.”
“If you do, we won’t be finishing the way I’d hoped.”
“Fine,” she muttered, sounding annoyed. But her eyes glowed with greedy excitement while she watched him tug open the zipper and shimmy out of his jeans and underwear.
Need swelled inside him. Screw finesse. He wanted her hard. Fast. Now.
He grabbed her, crushed her lips to his and pushed his tongue into her mouth. She tasted damned good. Her fingers threaded his hair as she pulled herself tighter against him. The tip of his penis grazed the soft skin of her belly. He couldn’t wait. It had been too long since he’d been with anyone. Too long that he’d wanted her.
“It’s got to be fast this time,” he whispered, his voice ragged and desperate even to his own ears.
“Yes,” she gasped.
“It’ll be better the next time.”
“Hurry.”
“Open for me.”
She nodded, wrapping one long leg around his waist. The blunt end of his cock brushed against the damp folds of her flesh. He gripped the smooth skin of her bottom, lifting her as he thrust deep and hard. Like molten silk, she stretched around him, wet and impossibly tight. A low groan tore free from his throat. She gasped, her fingernails digging into his shoulders, and he went perfectly still.
“What is it?” she murmured, wriggling her hips and nearly pushing him over the edge.
“Am I hurting you?”
She leaned back to look into his face and frowned. “Why?”
“You’re so damned tight, I thought I might be hurting you.”
“Trust me, you’re not. But if you don’t start moving, I might hurt you.”
A slow grin curved his mouth. “Wrap your legs around me.”
She didn’t hesitate, something he found absolutely amazing. There were no pretenses, no games, just the mutual desire to enjoy each other.
He held her pressed against the wall, pumping slowly and deeply like a train gathering speed. His body trembled, tense and straining, torn between the need to ravish and the need to savor. Her gaze, black like onyx in the dim light, stayed fixed on his. He thrust harder, deeper, faster. Her breath hitched and her eyes started to close.
“Look at me,” he rasped. “I want to watch you.”
Her eyes opened and focused on him. And he drove her on, sinking deep into that tight, wet heat.
She whimpered and arched her back. Her hands clutched his hair. “Des.”
She contracted around him, gripping him. Her eyes widened and went blank as her orgasm shuddered thr
ough her, filling him with raw, primal fury.
He pounded his hips against hers, lost in her scent, in her touch. She was soft and perfect and, for this moment, his. He shoved into her a final time, hard and deep. His cock jerked, exploding in a climax that left him shaken to his soul. His knees nearly buckled, but he held onto her, legs braced, elbows against the wall to protect her back.
For a long time after, neither spoke. They clung to each other, their ragged breaths mingling with the whisper of the wind in the trees outside.
“I think my fingernail broke the skin,” Shayne murmured, at last. Her lips brushed his shoulder, so gentle, so tender, his heart stilled in his chest and he held his breath.
He could love her. He could fall mindlessly and wildly in love with her. The kind of love that drove otherwise sane men to marry, buy houses in the suburbs, and have children and pets. And in that instant, he wanted to do all those things with her.
Except he was lying to her to hold his bloodthirsty family at bay. Scavengers who would never leave him alone. Shame and self-loathing slithered inside him like the snake he was.
He moved away from the wall and lowered her to the floor. As he started to pull back, she caught his face with both hands, forcing him to meet her gaze. “What is it?”
Her dark eyes, filled with concern, looked through him, inside him. He shut his eyes, terrified by what he might reveal. When he would have turned his head, she held him still.
“Just us tonight, right?” she whispered, her voice unusually small.
“Just us.” He smoothed the tangled strands of hair away from her face, lowered his mouth and captured hers in a kiss entirely too tender. But he wanted it that way, needed it.
When he opened his eyes, she watched him, searching his face. He gave her his stock cocky smile. “Night’s still young.”
Shayne lay in Des’s arms, sleepy and deliciously spent, her body tender and well ravished. Oh, it had been a long time since she’d spent a night making love, talking and laughing, and making love again for the hell of it.
After she and Travis had married, they’d never had sex just because they’d been caught up in the moment, just for the sake of touching and enjoying each other. Every time they’d come together, the frantic pressure to create a family had loomed over them. And once the inseminations had started, the sex had pretty much stopped altogether. She’d no longer felt like a woman, but like the vessel, her only purpose to carry Travis’s young. A purpose she couldn’t fulfill.
