by Taryn Quinn
“I came here for answers. Looks like I got them.” Slowly, Pete shook his head. “You don’t really think you can land a fish like him, do you? I mean, we’re talking impossible under normal circumstances, but when you’re knocked up and barely employed and sleeping on friends’ couches to avoid going home?” He chuckled. “Sorry, not happening.”
She gripped the doorjamb. A million retorts sprang to her tongue, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of engaging her in an argument. “Get out.”
“I’m just trying to help.” He stroked his lip piercing, his gaze drifting to her bump. She wanted to cup it to prevent him from seeing even the most minute detail about her baby, even its damn size in her womb. Irrational, yes, but there it was. “We were friendly once. You remember, don’t you, sweetheart?”
The sound of footsteps ascending the stairs behind him made Pete shoot a surprised glance over his shoulder. Ang’s eyes met Sterling’s and something tightened in her belly, way down deep.
“She’s doing her best to forget all about you. Now I suggest you get the hell off my property before I give you my own version of a restraining order—with my fists.”
Her breath clogged in her throat. That couldn’t be her Sterling, threatening Pete. He rarely got angry, and his knuckles had probably never been split. But there he was, her tall, muscled warrior in Hugo Boss, with sparks flying from his normally placid blue eyes.
Her panties drenched in an instant.
Shame followed swiftly after. She shouldn’t let him fight her battles. But oh God, she couldn’t stop the momentary pleasure that he wanted to. That he would.
“I’d like to see you try.” Pete cast a look over his shoulder. “You or your goons.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
Pete smirked, all cocky insolence. “I wouldn’t want to see you damage your pristine suit—”
The flying fist seemed to come out of nowhere, landing with precision against Pete’s nose. He howled as blood spurted. Sterling merely sidestepped the spray and shook out his hand, his face still contorted with rage.
Rage. From Sterling.
“Leave. Now. Or I promise you, I won’t pull my next punch.”
Ang lunged forward, intending to insert herself between the two men if need be. Pete would resume his usual trash-talking and posturing anytime now, and things would only get uglier. Instead he spat at Sterling’s feet and stalked off, cupping his mangled face and cursing under his breath.
She stared after him, stunned to see him reverse out of the driveway. Pete never backed off from a fight.
Her focus swung to Sterling. And the man in front of her never started one.
God, if just the sight of Sterling striding onto the porch to save her had turned her on, spotting the craving for blood in his eye had to be the bonus round.
“Don’t tell me I shouldn’t have hit him.”
Sterling’s voice was low and hot, and it didn’t make her think of violence. It made her think of his body ranging over hers as he slid inside her with one deep, mind-bending thrust.
She cleared her throat and tried to shake the image from her mind. Her body was already reacting as if they were in bed together. Her nipples pebbled and her pussy grew even wetter than it had been a moment before. Hell, Lake Winnetonka at the park up the street currently had nothing on her nether regions.
“Ang?”
He stepped forward and she threw up a hand to ward him off, mainly because she feared that she couldn’t control herself. She really might just jump him right then and there.
But the flash of hurt in his eyes at her gesture made her drop her arm and her gaze. She kept making things worse between them.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“What are you apologizing for?” It wasn’t his fault she wanted to fuck him brainless. Okay, it was, but she’d been the one to screw up everything by prematurely interjecting sex into the mix.
“I know you…cared about him once. He’s the father of your baby. Despite your difficulties, you probably didn’t want me to hit him.”
Oh God, he was so sweet. She couldn’t help smiling and moving closer, then lifting her hand to his chest. “On the contrary. I would’ve cheered the second time you hit him. I might’ve even grabbed the umbrella next to the door and joined in.”
He looked at her for so long she was tempted to move back, but then he reached between them and touched her somewhere no one other than her doctor ever had, at least while she was pregnant. He cradled her belly in his broad hand, his thumb slowly rubbing in circles. “I feel the bump.”
Embarrassment came first, then a slow, swamping warmth that blossomed from his palm and flowed over her in waves. He didn’t sound put off by the evidence of her baby. Far from it.
There were so many things she tried to say. To make it into a joke by commenting on her newfound craving for waffles with honey in the morning or blaming its size on the bodybuilding vitamins he’d given her. Even a simple yes would’ve sufficed. But she’d always gone all in, all the time.
“I feel part of you too,” she murmured, more than a little shocked that it wasn’t an idle statement. He’d just knocked a guy in the face and now he was stroking her with the utmost gentleness…and getting hard while she pressed her rounded body close to his.
His hand continued to move in those same tender sweeps. “Mmm-hmm.”
That was it. Mmm-hmm. No disagreement? No amusing comeback that fighting got him aroused? Just simple, basic acknowledgement of the truth.
He was hard, because of her. Somehow.
When staring into his way too perceptive, light-blue eyes became uncomfortable, she wet her lips and glanced between them, needing visible confirmation of his fingers on her stomach. Maybe she was imagining this entire surreal moment, and if she blinked, she’d wake up—
His cracked, bleeding knuckles made her gasp. “Oh God, you’re hurt.” She grabbed his hand, earning his wince, and lessened her hold as she brushed her finger over the splits in his flesh. “Let’s go inside and get you cleaned up.”
“I’m fine.” His mouth quirked. “Besides, my hand quite liked where it was.”
She gave him a sharp look. “You’re injured, due to me. That means it’s only fair I bandage you up.” She returned her attention to his knuckles. “And that’s if you don’t need stitches.”
“I assure you that I don’t. All I need is a stiff brandy—” He broke off, apparently catching her amused expression. His lips curved again, and this time he gifted her with a full smile. “I’m guessing you didn’t assume I’d end with ‘brandy’ when I started with ‘stiff’.”
She couldn’t help giggling. He was so different from the men she’d dated, yet he had a way of disarming her that none of them ever had. “You guessed correctly.” Before he could say something to alter the moment, she lifted his hand to her mouth and kissed it, meeting his eyes. “Are you going to be a good patient?”
“Oh, I shouldn’t think so.”
Her belly fluttered. “I have ways of dealing with bad ones.” Lightly, she tugged him along with her, leading him inside the open door and shutting it behind them.
“I’m sure you do.” He glanced through the glass at the porch they’d just vacated. “I should go get my laptop and briefcase. I didn’t lock the car.”
“Okay.” She started to step back, and then she gripped his fingers hard enough to make him grimace. “Sorry. Uh, have you been on your computer a lot this afternoon?”
He cocked a brow. “A bit. It’s a usual part of my workday.”
Of course it was. But he hadn’t responded to her tattoo picture, taken impetuously back when she’d been certain nothing of an, ahem, physical nature would occur between them. Before he’d rubbed her belly and given her sex eyes and gravel voice and basically turned her panties into a very thin impediment to a flash flood.
If he’d seen that picture, she couldn’t even think about getting naked in front of him. Ever.
Or she could tell him t
he truth about her double identity and resign herself to his ire. Worse, his disappointment. She deserved it, without question. He’d given her nothing but kindness—excepting their odd sexual interlude—and she’d lied and deceived and tried to find a way to get into his supertight boxers without him being any the wiser.
It was wrong. She should just suck it up, tell the truth and cry her eyes out that, yet again, she’d been faced with the possibility of sex with Sterling, only to have the chance ripped away by the cruel jaws of fate. And her own stupidity.
“Why don’t I get your laptop for you?” she asked before anything remotely like an apology formed on her lips. “You’re in pain. Go put some ice on that hand and I’ll handle this.”
Maybe he hadn’t seen the e-mail yet. That could be why he hadn’t replied. And if he had his e-mail password saved on his machine, she could just delete the incriminating evidence and he’d never know. GothGeek could vanish pictureless into the Internet ether.
As long as she got some sex, goddammit, she’d make it up to him. She’d rock his world in ways he couldn’t imagine. Perhaps she’d even tell him the truth…after. Once they were both sated and she knew he wouldn’t kick her out of his life for good.
“I’m fine, Ang.”
“Oh, but I need some air.” She practically thrust herself between him and the door, which wasn’t all that easy to do in light of her currently sluggish motor skills. But she was horny enough to lift a bus if she had to, so she could definitely nudge Sterling out of her way with her ass.
The ass he now has a partial picture of…
She nearly groaned aloud. “Let me. I’ll take care of everything.” She shot him what she hoped was a moderately sultry look over her shoulder. “Everything,” she added with a little purr.
His pupils flared and he brushed against her for an interminably long moment before easing back. “No time like the present. The laptop can wait.”
Apparently it could. It would have to, because if she pushed any harder to go out to his car, he’d know something was up. Maybe the point was moot anyhow.
He could’ve already seen the picture. Then what, smartypants?
Ang bit her lip. She’d just have to take her chances. If she stripped down and he called her out as a liar, she’d throw herself on his mercy and beg for another chance. She wasn’t in her right mind. All those pregnancy hormones were wreaking havoc and she couldn’t be held responsible for her actions.
Lame. So lame.
Yeah, well, she didn’t have much to work with. She really was sorry. It had been a crappy thing to do. And she’d apologize in every way he saw fit—on her back, on her stomach, on her knees. She still had some mobility left. She might even be able to do upside down.
She made a soft noise in her throat and urged him to follow her up the hall. “Rinse your knuckles under the water for me. Cool, but not cold,” she said, filling a paper towel with ice from the maker on the fridge.
By the time she made it over to the sink, he’d stuck his hand under the spray like a good boy, but the heat in his eyes definitely spoke of darker desires. “Ang…”
She didn’t want to talk. If she talked, she’d feel guilty. More guilty, because the sensation already threatened to choke her at unsuspecting moments. A guy like Sterling didn’t deserve to be lied to. Whatever her ridiculous reasons for sending that first message as GothGeek, the time had arrived to fess up.
But the apology wouldn’t come as she stared up into his startlingly blue eyes. Eyes like that made a woman dumb.
So she’d make up for her transgressions with her body, if she couldn’t with her words.
Always goes back to your body with you. Is that the only thing you think anyone finds valuable?
She focused harder on his hand as she carefully applied the ice to his raw knuckles. “This won’t take long. I promise.”
“Yes, it will.”
Oh God, his voice. She couldn’t stave off a shiver as she continued to grip his fingers and carefully tended his wounds. It aroused something deep inside her, that caring instinct she still struggled with in connection to her baby. Feelings this deep and strong frightened her. If she loved that much and lost—
She wasn’t going to lose her baby. And Sterling wasn’t hers to lose in any case. She shouldn’t compare the two.
“Ang,” he murmured, brushing her hair away from her cheek. She’d spiked and teased it like crazy after she’d shed her conservative job-interview look, but it seemed to bend to his will as he smoothed down each strand. “My hand’s okay. Really. Thank you.”
Dear Lord, she couldn’t draw enough breath when he looked at her like that. “You need antibacterial cream.”
“No. I need something else.”
She stumbled back, losing half the ice in the sink, only to come to a halt at the brush of his fingertips over her mouth. So softly that it could’ve been a kiss of the air instead of an actual touch. She shuddered just the same. “Bandages. Where do I find those?”
“How many attempts has he made to contact you?”
Okay, she hadn’t expected him to ask that particular question, at least not right now. “He calls every other day or so and leaves a voicemail.”
“Do you return those calls?”
That commanding thread in his tone unraveled her, word by word. “No. I have nothing to say to him.”
“And the following? Is that still going on?” He caressed the piercing above her lip. “Do you still feel threatened by him?”
Looking into Sterling’s eyes, she could barely remember Pete’s name, never mind feel concern that he could harm her or her child. Sterling’s heat and solidity enveloped her, strengthening her spine. She’d mostly convinced herself that the whole following thing had just been her overactive imagination.
“No,” she whispered. “I’m not scared of him anymore.”
“He won’t hurt you. I promise.” His gaze dropped to her midriff. Lingered. “Either of you.”
“He damn sure won’t. I won’t let him.”
“Neither of us will.”
The steel in his tone melted her, inside and out. Her skin felt too tight to hold all of her organs, especially the one in her chest. So she grabbed for what she always did—her bravado.
“What about you? Is my presence here helping you with your persistent ex? An ex I’ve seen no hide nor hair of, I might add.”
“I don’t want to talk about her hide.”
She couldn’t help smiling. He made it so hard to stay firm. “What about her hair?”
“Also off the table.” He leaned in, so close that his minty breath fluttered over her cheek. “May I kiss you?”
In spite of how absolutely flummoxed he made her, the question coaxed out a smile. “You’re the only one who has ever asked. Most just take.” When he remained still, she nodded. “Yes. Please.” Please.
His eyes open and intent, he pressed his mouth gently to hers. She trembled and he reached up with his cool, wet fingers to cup her other cheek. He slid his thumb along the seam of her mouth until it parted enough for him to slip his tongue along the edge of her teeth. Easing his finger away, he forged deeper, slanting his head, exploring her as if she was the most fascinating creature he’d ever encountered.
One kiss bled into the next. He sipped from her, drawing on her air and her flesh and imprinting her with the brand of his mouth. He dropped kisses at the corners of her lips, on her chin, along her jaw. Their mutual hunger flared to life, as palpable as his palms on her skin, and she arched toward him, needing more. He caressed her with such care, and she reveled in it, because it was new. Because it was Sterling, finally.
All the while, he watched her, silently gauging her reaction. Water flowed into the sink from the running faucet, splashing her arm, yet she stared into his dark, vast pupils as if he held the answer to every question she’d never thought to ask. And he fed her his breath in a shuddery stream that told her he was every bit as excited as she was, maybe even as awed and scared.
So fucking scared.
Ang jerked back, breaking the trance. She slammed off the faucet and tried to regain her equilibrium even as his hand pressed to the base of her spine to offer her support. She sagged against him, only now realizing she’d barely even kissed him back during his sensual onslaught. All she’d done was take and take and take. Greedily.
So much for rocking his world. He’d grabbed hers and shaken it like a snow globe. She hadn’t stopped spinning yet.
She shut her eyes at his hand gliding up her back, silently soothing. “If you don’t have any antibacterial cream, peroxide would work too.”
Nice segue, McFee.
But he didn’t bite. “You continually surprise me.” Crushed gravel lined his tone, sharp little rocks that rubbed wicked welts over her skin.
She shot him a look under her lashes, still breathing too fast. “Because I can’t kiss for shit?”
His smile verged on a smirk. “Funny, I thought you did just fine.”
“How would you know? Despite your sex-crazed ex, I have a sneaking suspicion one of us has vastly more experience than the other in that department.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she pushed her fist against her forehead. “God, shut me up. Bodily.”
He turned her toward him again and slid his hands over her cheeks, tilting her head back to plunder and tease her mouth once again. This time he closed his eyes, so she did too.
Heat and light burst inside her, leading the charge for her riotous emotions. She couldn’t contain them, couldn’t process. So she clung to his arms, digging in with her nails, rising on her tiptoes to chase his tongue and tug it back into her mouth as if it were spoils of war. She raked her teeth over his flesh, her eyes flashing open at his low, needful groan. Pressing closer, she rubbed her hardened nipples against his chest and flexed her pelvis so that he’d hopefully get the message and do the same right back. But he kept that respectful distance between their bodies, letting her grind all over him.
Did he have the self-control of a monk or what? Or had she somehow misread the intensity of…this?
Just when she thought she’d go crazy with want, he dragged his lips from hers to coast down her neck to that particularly knee-weakening spot behind her ear. One suck and she shook. Two and she whimpered, beyond all sense of pride. In a minute she’d be screaming, “Take me, dammit!” and then he’d know without a doubt that she craved him more than she’d craved anyone—
