By the time things wound down a good hour later, Katrina’s light blue shirt, now transparent in some places, clung to her skin, and the denim of her jean shorts chafed uncomfortably. How had she rationalized not bringing a change of clothes? Oh yeah, she’d thought Keith wouldn’t want to piss off Malcolm even more.
She found Keith behind the garage. The massive water gun in his hand was raised next to his head, and he pressed his back to the siding as if he were on a raid. Katrina admired his profile for a moment before her discomfort took over. “Hey, half the people have left, and I’m soaked. Are you about ready to go?”
He turned his head at the sound of her voice. His gaze traveled over her body, assessing the damage in a way that made her feel deliciously naked. A flame flickered in the depths of his green eyes. He opened his mouth, but before he could answer, Malcolm charged around the corner and let loose with the full wrath of the garden hose.
Keith shoved her behind his body, which stemmed the worst of the flood, but Katrina was already soaked. His chivalry only mattered because she got to press her front against his back. His heat radiated through the wet fabric separating them, and her nipples pebbled in response.
“Take that, you arrogant son of a bitch!”
If Malcolm’s declaration shocked or upset Keith, he didn’t show it. “Takes one to know one.” He emptied his gun in four long streams, and then he dived for the hose in Malcolm’s hands.
They wrestled for control until the hose went slack, and then they just wrestled with each other. Darcy stood over them as they rolled on the ground in Layla’s muddy garden. Her yellow sundress molded to her curves. At least it wasn’t see-through. “Malcolm, do you want me to get your ropes from the car?”
Both men halted and appeared to consider the idea of ropes. Then Malcolm shook his head. “Those are for you, sweetheart. Keith’s more of a masochist.”
Keith punched Malcolm in the thigh hard enough to leave a bruise. Katrina sighed at their immaturity, but since Malcolm only pounded on Keith, it meant they’d made progress. They’d exchanged words and made physical contact. They were firmly on the road to mending the rift.
She stuck out a hand and helped Keith to his feet. Luckily he didn’t need to use much of the paltry leverage she provided. Cold muck squished between their hands. “Yuck. You’re covered in mud.”
He grinned. “Guess I’m driving home in my underwear.”
The image of him clad only in underwear—dark blue boxer briefs, according to her fantasy—as he navigated the roads to her condo caused her knees to shake. Katrina seriously wanted to lose her shorts too, but she wasn’t about to announce that fact. “I find it hard to believe that Agent Rossetti doesn’t have a change of clothes in his trunk.”
“Laundry day. I did think ahead, though. I brought a couple of towels.”
The towels saved his leather seats from the worst of their wetness. Keith had rinsed most of the mud away before getting into the car, but he was still sopping wet, and dirt streaked his clothes. To Katrina, he looked like disheveled heaven. His short, blondish-brown hair was darker in some places, and stray droplets of water glinted in the afternoon light. His sodden shirt delineated every inch of his chiseled physique. In one of the spare bedrooms in his house, he had some hardcore body-conditioning machines.
She wondered if he used any of them for bondage. Though she knew he had a dungeon in his basement, she’d never been inside that locked room, and she’d never broached the subject in a serious manner. Teasing and joking masked her curiosity. She hoped.
The ride from Layla’s place to Katrina’s condo took less than ten minutes. She shifted in her seat and regarded him with a long look. “It appears that Mal is talking to you again.”
Keith’s shoulder lifted and fell. “He’s not giving me the silent treatment, but he’s not going to ask me to come over tomorrow and watch some preseason Lions.”
Her heart went out to him at the vulnerability he tried to hide. She reached over and squeezed his wrist. “You can come watch it with me, but I doubt it’ll be the same.”
“Can we eat junk, yell at the TV, talk about sex, and scratch our balls?” He glanced over briefly, throwing a deviant smile in with the question.
“I don’t have balls, but if it’ll make you feel better, I could scratch my crotch.” She tried to match his smile, but the tingly sensation traveling up and down her spine made her nipples hard and distracted her from doing a good job. Scratching wouldn’t salve the itch she had for Keith. “I can even do you one better. I have NFL Network. I bet there’s a game on right now.”
He pulled into the visitor parking spot across from the carport where her car waited. “If you let me use your shower and loan me something masculine to wear while I throw my clothes in the washer, you got a deal. Oh, and I’m hungry.”
She laughed so suddenly that she snorted. “You’re so high maintenance.”
He pulled the towels from the seats and followed her around to the door that led to her condo. “I said I’d wash my clothes. I didn’t say you had to do it. And I’ll order pizza. You won’t have to make anything for me.”
“And I get the first shower.” She threw that caveat over her shoulder as she inserted the key to unlock her door. The bolt didn’t make a noise to indicate it had disengaged, so she turned the knob and pushed. It opened. “I swear I locked it. I always lock it.”
Keith held out his hand for the keys. “May I?”
The question was a formality. He used his Special Agent Voice and wore his Official Frown. Wordlessly she handed over the keys. He closed the door and turned the key to lock and unlock it several times. The frown didn’t go away.
“I’ll go in first. You stay out here.”
He disappeared inside. His demeanor scared Katrina more than anything else. Perhaps she had forgotten to lock it after all. She went through the same routine every time she left her house. It was conceivable that she only thought she’d locked it.
Keith appeared in the doorway. His frown had disappeared. “I want you to look around to make sure, but I think maybe you just forgot to lock up when you left.”
Her door opened to a landing. A set of stairs went up to her condo, and the other set, protected by a door, went down to the basement. She jiggled the handle to the basement door and found it locked. Heading up the stairs, she noted nothing different. In her condo, she found nothing out of place. Still, she shivered.
Keith put his arms around her and pulled her close, a concerned, brotherly gesture even though she wished it were more. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “I’ll stay the night if you want.”
Only if you sleep naked and in my bed.
“Thanks, but I think it was just a dumb move on my part. My parents were in a rush when they picked me up, but I can’t believe I forgot to lock the door. Next thing you know, I’ll be leaving the stove turned on or the water faucet running.” She shivered again. Though she wanted to stay in his arms, she forced herself to give up that warmth and comfort. “I’m going to jump in and do a quick rinse. Why don’t you order the pizza, and then you can take a shower. I have an old pair of M.J.’s sweats around here somewhere.”
__________
M.J.’s sweats hung low on his hips, though they weren’t meant to sag. Besides being too wide for his slim hips, the elastic in the waist was shot, and the cuffs didn’t quite make the trek to his ankles. The doorbell rang. He ran her comb through his short hair and exited the bathroom. The issue with her front door being unlocked had unleashed his protective nature. Kat wasn’t usually the kind of woman who forgot basic safety precautions, but his years of training and instinct screamed at him to let it go. She was currently juggling more than her share of cases while trying to distinguish herself enough for the higher-ups to take notice of her skills. People who were tired and overworked sometimes forgot to do habitual things.
Kat came up the stairs leading to the front door as he made it to the kitchen. She’d changed from wet shorts and
a transparent tank top to light sweats and one of those T-shirts made for women that showed every curve. The scooped neck highlighted her pert breasts nicely. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and he could imagine just how perfectly her breasts would fit in his hands. And the things he wanted to do with her nipples right now—he could bind her arms behind her and torment those wondrous buds until she begged for release.
He swallowed and tamped down the desire tightening low in his abdomen.
She pursed her lips while looking him up and down. “Well, they definitely aren’t your sweats. Sorry. Both of my brothers are shorter than you.”
He grinned. At six feet even, Malcolm came the closest in height, but Keith still beat his buddy by two inches. “What? No ex-boyfriend gear?”
She set the pizza on the counter separating her tiny kitchen from the equally tiny dining area. “I throw out the gear with the guy. Want to grab a couple of plates?”
At home, he’d just toss the box on the coffee table, turn on the TV, and file slices directly into his mouth. Kat always insisted on plates, and she ate pizza with a fork. He liked those cute little lady touches, so he snagged two plates from the cupboard and handed one across the counter. Then he handed her a fork.
“Thanks.” She smiled, a genuine reaction that showed off the sparkle in her dark eyes.
Women showing honest emotion always threw him off for a second. He dated players and schemers because he knew how to handle them. Her smile was a gift and a reality check. A few months with him would wipe any traces of happiness and joy from her life. That reminder quelled his desire.
He piled four huge slices onto his plate and sank down into the soft cushions of her sofa. He’d spent more than one night crashed on the thing. The comfortable furniture felt and smelled like home. She took the seat next to him. Immediately, all residual tension left his body.
Vegging on the sofa with Kat wasn’t like sitting with any other woman. She didn’t demand conversation or attention. She didn’t flirt or make stupid comments that showed she was only watching football to humor his interest. She always cheered and yelled at the screen. She hated the Patriots and let everyone in the room know it. When a team ran a play well or when they screwed it up, she often came out with a comment that opened up a brief discussion of the action.
In short, watching football and sharing pizza with Kat wasn’t going to lead to anything else. Nothing he did with Kat was going to lead to anything else. Sure, he picked up on the little signs that showed she’d be amenable to something more happening. But after eleven years spent developing a friendship, he couldn’t jeopardize what they had to satisfy his selfish desires.
“I’ve decided I love the gift you got for Layla. I think that’s the best present you’ve given anyone ever.” She bit into her second slice. Cheese strings didn’t let her get away, so she wound them around her finger. It looked like she’d abandoned the fork.
“Wow. That’s quite a few superlatives. I didn’t know you wanted a squirt gun, or I would have got one for you.” He folded his third slice and took a hefty bite.
She wiped her fingers on a paper napkin and smiled at him. Humor glittered in her expression. “Oh, I don’t want a squirt gun. I meant it was perfect for her. You’re pretty good at figuring out gifts in general, but that was brilliant. It got Mal talking to you again, and it was a great way to end the party.”
Keith had always possessed a talent for picking out gifts. It wasn’t that he put extra time or thought into most of them. He just listened when people talked. They usually said what they wanted sooner or later. Most people preferred gifts that were favors. For Mama L’s birthday last April, he’d prepped her flower beds while she was at work. Though he’d promised most of Layla’s friends and family that he would stop buying water-fight-related gifts, he knew how much she liked them. That trumped any other obligation.
“So what’s your favorite thing that I got for you?” He probably shouldn’t have asked such a loaded question, but he was curious to hear her response. He put more time into considering gifts for her than for anyone else.
She slid her gaze away, looked at her half-eaten slice, and then back at the TV. The Ravens had humiliated the Chiefs so badly that watching the game had become painful. When she thought deeply, she scrunched her eyebrows together the tiniest bit. Just now, nothing was scrunched. That worried him.
“Avoidance behavior.” Goading her often worked.
She cleared her throat. “The necklace you gave me three years ago for my birthday. I wear it all the time.”
The silver dragonfly pendant had diamond and emerald chips. Buying jewelry for women wasn’t something he did often, but when he’d seen it, he had known it was the perfect gift. Though her birthday hadn’t been imminent, he had purchased it right away and held on to it for seven months. When she’d opened it, the expression on her face had been a priceless reward. He knew she loved it, but he also knew she was lying.
He leaned forward and put his plate on the table. “That’s not what you were going to say.”
“But it’s what I said.” She picked up both dishes and headed to the kitchen.
Keith wasn’t quite finished with his, and she always asked before she took something that wasn’t empty. Her behavior confirmed his instinct. She was hiding something. The part of him that needed to be in control wouldn’t let her have this secret, no matter what his better sense said.
He followed her into the kitchen. “Kat, the question shouldn’t be so hard to answer.”
She set his plate on the island. “Are you not finished with that?”
He took the remaining dish from her and set it down. Then he rested his palms on the counter on either side of her body, effectively caging her. He’d never used his physicality to bully her before, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from doing it now. The sweet scent of her skin and the spiciness of the pizza drew him to her. The upper swell of her breasts strained against the tight fabric of her shirt, and her nipples hardened to points. She dropped her gaze, a subconscious and completely real act of submission.
Leaning down, he captured her attention. Her breath caught. She wet her lips, and his cock noticed the delicate way her tongue darted out.
What in the world had he given her that would make her react like this? Both his curiosity and his libido were piqued. One of them demanded an outlet. Unfortunately, it was the one he couldn’t assuage, not without losing everything.
“Kat, what was the first thing that popped into your head?”
She fidgeted, wringing her hands before she seemed to realize what she was doing. As a newer attorney, she had less experience with behaviors and tells than he did. She put her hands behind her, groping for the counter, but she came into contact with his wrists. Immediately, she folded her arms over her chest, hiding her vulnerabilities. “Keith, don’t.”
He leaned closer, and her breath hitched. Her gaze flickered from his eyes to his lips and stayed there. Ions bounced between them. He really needed to back off, but a perverse streak of self-destructiveness asserted itself. “Don’t what?”
She closed her eyes and exhaled a short stream of air. “Do you remember what you gave me for my eighteenth birthday?”
Hell, yes. The memory of that kiss haunted him to this day. Her lips had tasted sweet, and that had nothing to do with the cherry lip gloss she had been wearing. It hadn’t been a deep kiss or a long kiss, and it had nearly knocked him on his ass. But maybe she meant the other gift, the one she had been able to open in front of everyone. The one he hadn’t made her swear to secrecy.
He had to ask. “The shirt or the kiss?”
She opened her eyes, but she didn’t meet his gaze. She looked at some point over his shoulder. “The kiss.”
“That was your favorite gift?” The part of him that chose collars that would look good around her neck while she lay naked on his bed was absurdly pleased. He ignored the warning bells in his head. Messing with Kat could mean losing the family who had adopted him an
d saved what was left of his worthless soul.
She shrugged. It wasn’t flirty or shy. It was the kind of shrug that communicated uncertainty and discomfort. “It was and it wasn’t.”
He’d backed her into a corner. If she had been his, he would torment her until she explained. But she wasn’t his. She was so much more than something he could possess. He dropped his arms and stepped back far enough to give her space, but close enough that she wouldn’t think he was ending the conversation. “Care to explain that?”
Now that he wasn’t so close, she relaxed a bit. Her shoulders moved. She drummed her nails against the countertop. “I was… I mean… It wasn’t my first kiss, but it was the best kiss. I’ve spent the last ten years comparing every first kiss to that one, and they all fall short. But I don’t know if that’s because it was really so good or because I’ve idealized it in my head. You kinda ruined other men for me.”
What the hell was wrong with her? She should have come up with another explanation, something plausible that didn’t make him stare at her in shock. Why did she have to be honest with him? Just because she’d never lied to him in the past didn’t mean she had to always tell the truth, especially not when the only thing that would come from this was more awkward silence.
He massaged his jaw and regarded her somberly. She couldn’t think of anything to say to mitigate the damage. Give her an hour or two without him around, and her brain might remember how to process rational thoughts again.
“Do you want another one?”
Yes, she wanted to kiss him again. No, she didn’t want his pity. She shook her head and turned away.
His arm came up, and he rested his hand on the counter, blocking her escape route. She could turn around and go the other way, but if she did that, things would never be normal between them again. No, she needed to face this head-on, downplay the significance of what happened so they could both ignore the topic for another decade. Because if she knew anything about him, it was that he didn’t want the same things from a relationship she wanted. He wanted a few nights of companionship where he controlled every aspect.
Re/Paired (Doms of the FBI Book 2) Page 2
