Private Lies

by Wendy Etherington

  He slid his mouth down her neck, his teeth and his tongue shooting sparks of desire higher. When he bit her ear, she arched her neck, silently begging for more. After flicking open the front clasp of her bra, he continued his blissful assault down her chest, taking first one, then the other nipple in his mouth, laving the tips with dampness, sinking his teeth lightly into them.

  She buried her hands in his hair, clutching the silken strands so tightly she had no doubt she was hurting him. But he said nothing. Seemed not to notice. His focus was all for her. On her. Within her.

  The tip of his tongue slid from her nipple, over the downward slope of her breast, the across her rib cage. When he reached the center of her stomach, dipping his tongue into her belly button, her breath caught. Oh, my. Their sensual explorations had rarely ventured in this direction, and always when Gage was at his most gentle. How would it feel now when—

  He thrust his tongue directly between her slick folds.

  “Oh, my—”

  Ripples of sensations, the beginnings of her climax, started to roll outward. Then, just as suddenly as the caress began, he withdrew his tongue.

  Her muscles clamped, reaching for the satisfaction they craved.

  Oh, no, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t be cruel. She shook her head as the stillness lengthened, with her hovering at a precipice she had no hope of falling off.

  But just as quickly as his touch was gone, his wonderful mouth was back. And the sensations magnified tenfold.

  She clutched the sofa cushions, her fingers digging into the fabric. Her muscles tightened. She held her breath, praying for the delicious torture to end.

  Then the tension broke, and she soared.

  Her orgasm tore through her body without gentleness or subtlety. It pounded, demanded, and drained the very life out of her. She was pretty sure she even blacked out for a second or two.

  When she opened her eyes, she was alone. Groggy, she sat up. “Gage?”

  He walked in from the bedroom with a white robe tossed over his arm. Holding it toward her, he said, “Let’s tuck you in bed.”

  She blinked. The last few minutes had been incredible, but she wanted the whole shebang. Didn’t he? “But…You…”

  He glanced away. “I shouldn’t have touched you.”

  “You regret touching me?”

  His gaze met hers straight on. “I had to finish what I started earlier.”

  “But you don’t want to make love?”

  “You need your rest.”

  The man was a damn professional at avoiding questions. Hurt and confused, she gathered the tatters of her cat suit around her, then stood, angrily thrusting her arms into the sleeves of the robe. “You sure seemed enthused a few minutes ago.”

  He ran his hands down her arms. “I was rough. I shouldn’t have—”

  She whirled. “Don’t say that again.”

  Regret slid through his eyes. “I hurt you.”

  “No.”

  “Yes, I have.”

  His deception. The future they’d never have. He had hurt her. “Not physically,” she countered.

  In answer, he grabbed her hand and led her into the bathroom. He stood behind her as she faced the mirror.

  Red marks marred the pale skin of her throat and chest. She cinched the belt on her robe and turned away from her reflection and the self-directed censure in Gage’s eyes. “You didn’t hurt me,” she insisted.

  “I attacked you. I ripped your clothes.”

  She stepped closer to him and cupped his cheek in her palm. “I liked it.”

  His eyes darkened.

  “I always knew you had a dark side,” she went on in a whisper. “And tonight I got to touch it.”

  “No.” He stepped back, shuttering his thoughts and feelings with obvious longtime expertise. “I simply got too carried away. It’s the stress of the case. I’ll keep myself under better control from now on.” He started to turn away.

  She grabbed his arm. “No, dammit. You’re not shutting me out. I don’t want Mr. Cool and Controlled. I want the unleashed hunger I had out there.” She jabbed her finger in the direction of the living room. “I’m tired of you protecting me and coddling me. I’m tired of lies. I want all of you.”

  “I thought you didn’t want me at all.”

  “I—” She closed her mouth. She didn’t want him. She was helping him through this weekend. That’s it. Then bye-bye, Gage Angelini, or whoever the hell he was and would be. She hadn’t planned to complicate things with sex.

  So why in the world was he reminding her she’d rejected a physical relationship between them? He certainly hadn’t liked her calling off the engagement. Then, his eyes had been determined, as if she wouldn’t find dumping him quite so easy. In fact, she was pretty darn sure his arousal under the table had been his way of reminding her that she did want him. That their sex life was an area they managed extremely well.

  Had he suddenly decided she wasn’t worth the trouble to keep? She’d always had insecurities in that area, and twenty-four hours ago she would have bought that excuse lock, stock and barrel.

  But tonight she had the feeling she’d just hit too close to the mark with her touching his bad-side comment.

  Good grief. Had she actually said that? Like quoting a bad line from a Star Wars movie. Feel the Force, Gage.

  Exhaustion had finally claimed her brain.

  She wasn’t likely to puzzle her way through Gage’s motives tonight. And, hey, she’d definitely gotten the good end of the deal in the orgasm department. She’d told him the whole experience was pretty cool for her. If he wanted to martyr himself and brood, fine by her.

  Shrugging, she ushered Gage out of the bathroom. “I’m taking a bath, then going to bed. Make sure I don’t miss breakfast.”

  As she closed the door, his puzzled frown was the last thing she saw.

  LONG AFTER ROXANNE was in bed, Gage lay on the sofa, shoved a thin pillow behind his head and let loose a stream of expletives. He started in English, then moved on to Italian, French, Spanish, and wound things up with a touch of German.

  “Women are a pain in the ass,” he muttered into the silent, darkened room.

  He’d tried to be noble, to apologize for turning into a crazed animal, for shamelessly manipulating her body into wanting him, for trying to brand her as his, and only his, woman forever.

  And what did he get in return? Psychoanalysis.

  He snorted. His dark side? Please.

  He’d just been using sex to keep her under his control, to remind her she wanted him despite all the reasons her complicated female brain had given her not to.

  You just don’t like how close she was. And I don’t mean physically.

  “Oh, shut up,” he told his conscience.

  He was a man. Using sex to get his way was as natural as breathing.

  You pushed her away because she’s not supposed to be part of the darkness. She’s the only light in your miserable life.

  He wanted to scoff, to turn off the part of him that always found a way to the brutal, honest truth.

  But he couldn’t. He didn’t want her part of the very real dark side of his life. The lies. The scum. The danger.

  But he also reveled in the idea that the dark passion inside him had escaped, and Roxanne hadn’t turned away from him. She hadn’t been shocked or scared.

  I liked it.

  Recalling her words, he went instantly hard, and so he sighed in disgust. So much for the cold shower he’d tortured himself with.

  It had taken a long, frigid dip in the water to chill his earlier desire. After bringing Roxanne to climax, he’d wanted to drive himself into her more than he wanted to draw his next breath, but then he’d seen the marks on her neck. And he’d been disgusted. He’d lost it, and he feared hurting her further, overwhelming her, and, yes, letting her get too close.

  Better to rein in that wild, uncontrollable side and remind himself he had to stay focused on this case and their safety, not his dick.
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br />   No way in hell was he getting back in that shower. So, he turned his thoughts to the case. A vision of Stephano leering at Roxanne steered his energy into anger rather than sex.

  He’d learned a valuable piece of information during dinner that evening. From the way Stephano kept referring to his base of operations—the supply warehouse where the bills were manufactured—Gage knew it had to be close, probably in downtown New Orleans. Like hiding in plain sight. People came and went in the Quarter at all hours of the day and night. No one would question delivery trucks or workers at 2:00 a.m., seedy-looking henchmen or a pocket protector–carrying engineer.

  Gage’s father had a lot of contacts at NOPD and knew several local judges. If he could get a lock on this warehouse—admittedly a monumental challenge—he could have a search warrant within an hour. Then all he had to do was catch Stephano inside—like that would be easy—and this whole mess would be over.

  And Roxanne could officially walk out of his life forever.

  Great. Then my life will be perfect.

  A perfect, miserable disaster.

  “GAGE, I want to break up.”

  Gage paused with his scrambled egg–laden fork halfway to his mouth. “Come again?”

  Across from him, looking as serene as a priest at Sunday mass and still wearing a hotel bathrobe, Roxanne laid her engagement ring in the center of the table. “Officially.”

  Numb, he laid down his fork. He couldn’t seem to tear his gaze from the sparkling, pear-shaped diamond surrounded by small emeralds. “Why?” he managed to ask.

  She drew a deep breath. “After last night, I realized I’ve given you some mixed signals. I’m pretending to be involved with you while Stephano is around, but when we’re alone, I don’t want any…physical contact between us. I know it will be difficult, but I think it’s best, given the circumstances.”

  Everything inside Gage had gone cold. “Circumstances?”

  “I’m staying here and helping you, but once you have Stephano in custody…I’d like you to move out of the house.”

  He finally looked up, finding her golden-brown gaze locked on his face. Marina was gone and sweet Roxanne was back, so how could she sit there so calmly, so unemotionally, and destroy him?

  “I’m sorry, Gage. I just can’t live my life with a cop. I promised myself a long time ago.”

  He fought the urge to beg. “What if I wasn’t a cop?”

  “But you are.”

  “What if I quit?”

  Her eyes widened briefly, then she shook her head. “You can’t stop being something you are. I won’t ask you to.”

  “It’s just a job.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  True, he’d considered himself a cop for so long, he couldn’t imagine changing his view. His job was a part of him in a way that he suspected most people would never understand. It encompassed his whole identity.

  But he was pretty sure losing Roxanne would kill him.

  She laid her hand over his, then, as he glanced down, she moved it. Obviously, even hand-holding was too much physical contact. “I’m sorry, Gage. Are you upset or relieved?”

  He stood, turning away from her and thrusting his hand through his hair. “I’m not relieved.” He looked back at her. “Why would I be relieved?”

  “I’m not exactly ideal for a man like you.”

  “A man like me.”

  Her face flushed. “You know, sophisticated, confident, gorgeous. You could have any woman you want.”

  “I want you.” Admittedly not a flowery, and certainly not a sophisticated, declaration, but it was all he could manage at the moment.

  Though pleasure lit her eyes briefly, his confession didn’t seem to sway her in the least. “Why? We’re complete opposites. After yesterday, that’s even more obvious.”

  “Opposites attract,” he said, wanting to wince at the pat answer.

  She shook her head. “Why else?”

  Why couldn’t he put his feelings into words? He hadn’t done it in so long, he’d probably forgotten how. His father wasn’t much for easy affection. And though he’d written countless letters to his mother for three years after she’d left, telling her how much he needed her and wanted her back, she’d never come back.

  She rose from the table. “The pause is long enough.”

  He crossed to her. “Dammit, I don’t know why I do, I just do.” He reached for her, but she stepped back. “We’re good together.”

  “I don’t belong with you, Gage.”

  A knock on the door forestalled whatever idiotic response Gage could come up with next.

  “Get in the bedroom,” he said as he scooped his Beretta off the entryway table. When she ignored his command, he cursed, then peered out the peephole in the door.

  Nobody.

  Damn. Had he tipped too much to Stephano? He’d let Roxanne distract him, worrying too much about his love life instead of his life life. He flattened his back against the wall beside the door, flipping off the pistol’s safety and sliding his finger against the trigger. “Who is it?”

  “Room service,” said a fake-sounding deep voice.

  His heart thudded. “They’ve already been here.”

  “Hell, Gage, it’s me, Toni. Open the door.”

  Recognizing her real voice, Gage cursed again and opened the door, grabbing Toni’s hand and pulling her around the door as he flicked the safety back on his pistol and tucked it behind his back before she noticed it.

  Like Roxanne, she was back to normal this morning. The skintight outfit and hooker-blond wig were gone, replaced by a lime-green silk tank dress and her own shaggy, medium-blond hair. And her diamond-hard blue gaze was aimed directly at him. “I’m here to get Roxanne.”

  Hadn’t he decided last night women were a pain in the ass?

  He flopped onto the sofa, hiding his gun between the cushions. “Fine by me.”

  Roxanne glared at him as she crossed to her friend. “Have some coffee.”

  “Already had two cups, thanks.”

  “Which explains why you’re so irritable. How about some breakfast? We have plenty.”

  Gage laid his head back against the cushion and closed his eyes, trying to block out their chatter. He didn’t have the patience for this.

  “How’s the rehearsal going?” Toni asked.

  “What rehearsal?” Roxanne returned.

  “The Ponytail That Roared,” Gage said without opening his eyes.

  “Oh, that. Well, we’re taking a break.”

  “Uh-huh,” Toni said, sounding as if she didn’t believe a word.

  And, really, who would? Roxanne was a lousy liar. Though she’d held her ground well last night with Stephano and Mettles. Held her ground? Hell, she’d flourished. He had little doubt Stephano’s lust for “Marina”, along with his natural pride, had caused him to reveal more than was wise. They could make a powerful team.

  But he wanted her as far away from Stephano and his like as he could get her.

  And all she wanted was to be as far away from him as she could get.

  He had to do something to change her mind. He couldn’t lose her. He needed her light and sweetness and vulnerability. He needed her laughter and stability. Her intelligence. Her body.

  He could quit. Retire. He’d been thinking about leaving more every day, more about normality and building something permanent and strong. He couldn’t imagine his life without a case to solve, but he’d been at this crap long enough to wonder if he really made a difference anyway.

  What would he do, though? Open a hardware store? Build birdhouses? Could he really leave behind the only purpose he’d ever felt in his life? And if he did, and Roxanne took him back, would he someday resent her?

  You can’t stop being something you are.

  Could he?

  “Gage, are you asleep?” Roxanne asked suddenly.

  “No.” He kept his eyes closed.

  “Have you been listening?”

  “Yes. Toni wants to take you
with her. She thinks I’m bad for you. You assured her we’re having a romantic weekend, which would be going more smoothly if Toni would go home. Oh, and she thinks the play is bullshit.”

  “Should we explain further?”

  “No.”

  Someone sat beside him. Close. Roxanne. She smelled delicious, and the warmth of her body seeped into his. Someone should tell her to move back a few paces. Maybe a few blocks. His nerves were already strung out to the point of snapping, and he was perilously close to flinging her over his shoulder and kidnapping her until she saw reason with their relationship. He blanked out the picture of her engagement ring lying in the center of the table.

  “I think we should tell her,” Roxanne whispered in his ear. “She’s not going away.”

  Gage finally opened his eyes and glanced at her. God, it was painful to look at her, knowing he’d lost her. “Tell her what?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You know.”

  “No.”

  “I really don’t think we can get rid of her.”

  “I could have four Federal Agents at the door of her shop in twenty minutes on suspicion of trafficking.”

  “Trafficking what?”

  “Anything.”

  “Have I told you lately that this ruthless side of yours bothers me?”

  “Last night it turned you on.”

  She glared at him. “Last night it didn’t exist at all according to you, and you’re changing the subject. If we just tell her, she’ll go away. What if she pops up again while we’re with the bad guys?”

  He realized suddenly how much he liked the change in her over the last twelve hours. She never would have argued this strenuously before. And he never could have imagined having a conversation with her about a case. Embarrassingly, he realized he wouldn’t have expected her to understand or be interested in his cases.

  And while she’d told him she wanted him out of her life, she sure wasn’t running out—even with her best friend tugging her. She was staying with him, seeing this mess through. If she cared so little for him, why was she helping him?

  Last night Stephano would have been royally pissed if she hadn’t shown up, and he might even have taken out his frustration on Gage. But today she could go. She didn’t have to see this through.