A Perfect Storm

by Lori Foster

  Physically, he wanted her so much he hurt.

  And emotionally… God, he choked on the thick emotions, they so overwhelmed him.

  Because he had to touch her, he aimed for safe ground and drifted his fingertips through her hair, tucking it back so he could better see her beautiful face. Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to her brow. She felt baby soft and smelled woman warm—an intoxicating mix.

  Now, right at this moment, she was dead to the world, at peace, her expression utterly relaxed.

  Young.

  Carefree.

  All the things she should be—even when awake and aware.

  If she saw him standing there with a jones, admiring her in her sleep, she’d probably deck him. Grinning over that probability, Spencer dropped his hand and took a step back, then slowly opened the snap to his jeans and slid down the zipper past his erection.

  He would sleep with her, he’d hold her, but he would not take advantage.

  There wasn’t anything he could do about the boner except suffer it.

  Would she still want him in the morning?

  Without drink clouding her judgment, would she still be able to push past her demons and overcome her reservations to take what she wanted?

  And if she did, then what?

  All his reasons for not indulging that final intimacy still remained. Taking her, being inside her, would only make it more difficult to do what was right—what was best for her, what would be honorable for him.

  Because her past skewed her perception of any intimate relationship, Arizona didn’t—couldn’t—know her own mind. Her history hampered clear thought and insight the same way too much alcohol did. He shouldn’t take advantage of either.

  Spencer shook his head. All the arguments made sense; they were valid, of course. But he fought a losing battle, and he knew it.

  In her unique, kick-ass way, Arizona personified temptation.

  Pulling the covers out from under her, he tucked her in and turned out the low light. What would she think when she awoke with him in the morning?

  Anticipating her reaction, he skinned off his jeans, put those and her skirt on a chair, and in boxers only, he stretched out beside her.

  She didn’t stir.

  Though Arizona wasn’t a fragile woman, she was so much smaller than him, her bone structure slight in comparison. He slid an arm under her head, another around her waist, and pulled her up close against his body so that he spooned her.

  Amazingly enough, wrapped around her protectively, affectionately, lovingly…it was the most comfortable he’d been in a very long time.

  * * *

  ICY RIVER WAS CLOSED over her head, but she kicked hard and broke the surface long enough to gulp in much-needed air. Fierce rainfall stung her face; laughter sounded over the thunder. A bright flashlight beam hit her in the eyes, momentarily blinding her.

  Panic sank its claws deep, but she fought it off. Think, Arizona, think.

  Her next breath was the most immediate need, but, God, the river pulled at her, and without her arms to help, staying afloat was not only awkward, but nearly impossible. She choked on dirty water, shivered from the bone-deep chill.

  Where was the shore? Which way and how far?

  And if she made it there, then what?

  They’d only throw her back in.

  Probably with the added disadvantage of a bullet or knife wound.

  Suddenly the chatter, the heckling, even the laughter stopped. Despite the rushing sounds of the river and the night and the raging storm, the loss of human words clamored against her brain.

  Thighs screaming with exhaustion, despondency strangling her, she broke the water again—and saw a skirmish on the bridge.

  It so surprised her that she went under again and swallowed a mouthful of the foul water. She kicked, but her legs felt leaden. Her lungs screamed, her shoulders ached so horribly from the unnatural pull of the tight bonds…

  So tired that every muscle in her body cramped, she almost gave up—and then a splash sounded near her. Forgetting to kick her legs, she went under once more—and strong arms closed around her.

  Fear surged, giving her renewed strength.

  “Shh,” he said as he pulled her toward shore. “I’ve got you now. I swear it’s okay.”

  A man, big and so incredibly strong that he controlled himself and her against the deep tug of the river.

  But who, and why?

  Unwilling to trust anyone, she head-butted him, making him curse. But he didn’t loosen his secure hold.

  Oh, God, oh, God…

  She kicked, and her heel connected a few times but gained her nothing. Thrashing, fighting, she did everything she could to get free, and still he dragged them nearer and nearer to the shore.

  The moment his feet touched ground, she felt it. Seconds later hers did, too.

  She didn’t scream, didn’t call out or cry. Instead, she did everything in her physical power to get free.

  While continuing to shush her in that oddly soothing voice, he pinned her down in the muddy ground, immobilizing her legs, making her arms hurt more.

  So tired. Muscles aching. Lungs burning.

  Giving up seemed more and more likely.

  “I’m going to cut you free now. Be still.”

  A knife! But true to his word, he crouched over her, lifted her wrists and sliced through the nylon restraints.

  Then he moved quickly out of her reach.

  With her backside sliding on the muddy bank, she scrambled away. Her arms were useless, numb and tingling. Her legs were heavy with fatigue.

  “It’s okay,” he said. He didn’t follow. He held his arms out and waited. “You can trust me.”

  He couldn’t be serious. She trusted no one. No one. No one…

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ARIZONA AWOKE AS SHE OFTEN DID, with a near jolt, her heart thumping, adrenaline surging. She sat upright, and her gaze darted around, searching for any and all threats.

  She found none.

  Taking in the room with a sense of confusion, she tried to orient herself. Soft sheets covered her, so unlike the usual overstarched bedding in hotel rooms. Gray dawn flooded the room; gentle morning rain trickled over the window panes.

  Cozy warmth surrounded her.

  And now that she was awake, she felt unaccountably…safe.

  Nice feelings. Unfamiliar, but…she moved her hand over the sheet. Something in the room smelled wonderful, and she filled her lungs on a deep breath—

  “Morning.”

  Shock took her pounding heart to a standstill. Sucking in air, she placed that deep, recognizable voice—and then oh-so-slowly turned her head to see Spencer stretched out beside her. Oooookay. The sheet just barely rested over his hip. One big hairy leg stuck out.

  Her jaw loosened. “You’re naked.” The second she spoke, she felt the stiffness of her jaw. She touched it and knew she was bruised.

  “In my boxers actually.” He lifted the sheet to show her.

  Yeah…not much better. Spencer in boxers was enough to stop her heart. Especially when aroused. And he was.

  Again.

  Lord have mercy.

  Marla hadn’t joked about his size. The man was big all over, a fact she’d noticed more than once.r />
  Well. He sure got her heart going again, even faster than the damn nightmare had. By the moment, she became more alert.

  “You’re okay?” he asked with concern.

  “What?”

  He nodded, his gaze on her face where she touched her jaw.

  “Oh. Yeah.” She dropped her hand. “I’m fine.”

  As he shifted, his brows pulled down in worry.

  Seeing all that exposed flesh, so sleek over taut muscle, Arizona automatically breathed in deep again—and her stomach did a crazy little flip.

  Mmm. Yup, that’s what she inhaled all right—the stimulating scent of warm skin and relaxed muscles on a supersized sexy male bod.

  Deeee-licious.

  He said nothing else. She didn’t, either. Who could talk? She’d rather soak up the sight of him.

  Like the morning she’d first awakened him, he looked good with rumpled hair and beard shadow. Unlike that morning, a sort of banked heat smoldered in his dark eyes.

  Hello! What had Spence been doing to look all turned-on and primed that way?

  Propped on one elbow, he appeared clear-eyed and alert, as if maybe…he’d been watching her.

  For a while now.

  As she slept.

  Wow.

  Her thoughts went chaotic, but then, with Spencer, there was nothing new in that. He often left her brain jumbled and her heart confused. She rather liked it, especially since, before Spence, she’d sometimes doubted she had a heart.

  Last night was only a vague memory, her last clear thought of being in the bar and seeing him with another woman.

  So how’d they end up in bed together? If they’d done the deed and she couldn’t remember it, she would be seriously annoyed.

  Suspicious, she looked down at her partially stripped body, then again, more leisurely, at his. Cocking a brow, she tried to brazen through the awkwardness. “Do I need to kick your butt?”

  Unconcerned with the implied threat, his tone merely curious, Spencer asked, “For what?”

  “Taking advantage of me while I was drunk?”

  Smiling, he reached out and tugged on a hank of her long, disheveled hair. “No, baby, you don’t.”

  Baby?

  “But I might need to turn you over my knee for trying that very thing.”

  “Yeah, that’ll never happen.” Not only wouldn’t she allow it, she knew Spencer would never do it. But he had said it, so… “What do you mean?”

  “Last night, you tried to insist that I take advantage of you.”

  “No kidding?” Now that he said it, she sort of remembered making some hot and heavy offers. Before going into the bar she’d decided she wanted him. Shoot, looking at him now, listening to that deep, even voice, being so close to him, she still wanted him.

  Big-time.

  And why not? She couldn’t stay celibate forever, and she did want to be as whole, as normal and functional, as any other adult.

  Spencer claimed to want to help her with that—up to a point anyway.

  She wasn’t going to give up her work, so who knew if she’d end up caught again? Before that happened, it’d be great to know how it should be.

  How it could be with Spencer.

  His dark eyes warmed even more, and his voice dropped. “You were awfully hard to resist.”

  “But you resisted anyway, huh?” Jerk. Way to make her feel like chopped liver. He sure hadn’t resisted the bimbo at the bar, never mind that he’d been undercover.

  “You’d had way too much to drink,” he pointed out.

  And that was that; he wasn’t an opportunist, especially not with women.

  Had she thrown herself at him? Looked like a fool? Suffered humiliating rejection? Gawd. Maybe it was better that she not know.

  His big hand stopped toying with her hair and instead dropped down to rest warmly on her knee. “I tried to reason with you, but then you passed out on me.”

  “Here?”

  “You don’t remember any of it?”

  She screwed up her face, thinking hard… “I kicked Carl’s butt. I remember that.”

  “You broke his fingers.” His expression darkened with the reminder. “I did the rest.”

  An indistinct memory intruded. “Dare had something to do with us cutting the night short…” No wait… Her eyes widened. “It’s over, isn’t it? Dare shut them down?”

  Spencer nodded. “He moved in early and took over.” He filled her in on the details he had. “You drank so much with Janes, it’s a wonder you recall anything.”

  “Bits and pieces are coming back to me.” Curiosity crowded in around the relief of knowing innocents had been saved. “So if nothing happened between us, why am I in bed with you?”

  “I thought it’d be prudent to keep you close.”

  “And…how close were we?” Because really, she’d always figured sleeping with a guy—in the literal sense—would make her too edgy. Sleep meant exposure. Lack of defense. Sleep meant she had her guard down, and she plain didn’t do that. Not with anyone.

  But then, Spencer wasn’t just anyone. Not anymore.

  Almost from the moment she’d met him, he’d affected her differently. Sometimes she hated it, but most times, she kind of liked the way he made her feel.

  “I enjoyed holding you, Arizona.” His thumb moved over her knee. “You’re very soft and warm.”

  No way.

  Mistaking her wide-eyed incredulity, he frowned again. “You had a nightmare?”

  “One I lived through, yeah.”

  “About?”

  “The river. Almost drowning.” She waved it off as insignificant. She’d had that damned dream so often, she’d gotten used to it. “Jackson saving me and all that.”

  “Damn. I’m sorry.”

  “Same old, same old.” She looked around, saw his jeans on a chair, then lifted the sheet and found she wore only her underwear with her top. Her mouth went a little dry. “So…did you undress me?”

  “You did that.” He gave the sheet a slight tug. “I was noble and covered you up.”

  “And then crawled into bed with me?”

  “It’s my bed.”

  Right. So he did or didn’t want her? She couldn’t tell. He seemed different today, maybe more susceptible to intimacy, but she didn’t relish the idea of asking, only to be turned down again.

  What if he’d only slept with her out of convenience? She tried to broach things subtly. “So…what now?”

  “That depends on you.”

  Interesting. Well, she knew what she wanted to do, but she said nothing and instead just waited.

  “You have a hangover?”

  “Nope.” Running her fingers through her tangled hair, she yawned, then flopped down to her back beside him. “My jaw is a little sore, that’s all.”

  His expression flattened. “A bastard at the bar caught you.”

  Never would have happened if she’d been sober. But she didn’t dwell on that, not now, not with Spencer close enough that the heat of his body touched all along her side.

  Her heart started doing that crazy thumping thing again.

  She looked over at him. “I’m maybe a little muzzy-brained, but no real aftereffects.”

  “Good.” His dark gaze went to her chest, and his nostrils flared.

  She still didn’t know where this little morning chat was headed. “You’re asking because…?”

  “We have unfinished business from last night.”

  Awwwwe-some. But to be certain, she asked, “Sex?”

  Pausing, he clarified, “You want me?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Good.” He leaned toward her.


  Yay! But now that Arizona had it confirmed, nervousness set in, and she held him off with one hand. “Hold up, Spence.”

  That got his attention back on her face. He studied her, and whatever he saw—or thought he saw—banked the fires. “Things look different in the light of day, now that you’re clearheaded, don’t they?”

  “Not really.” As yet unmentioned stipulations aside, she still wanted to devour him from head to toe. But he sounded so self-righteous, so…condescendingly male, as if he expected her to act the part of a swooning virgin or something, that she couldn’t keep from messing with him a little. “It’s just that I can’t… I don’t…”

  “Shh, I know, baby.” He drew a deep breath and nodded. “I understand.”

  “Do you?”

  “Of course I do.” All too serious, he curled his fingers over hers. “It’s okay.”

  Arizona snickered at his restraint, and when he eyed her with confusion, the laughter bubbled out. “C’mon, Spence. I’m just funning you.”

  “Funning me?”

  Turning on her side to face him, she mimicked his pose with her head braced on a hand. “Of course I’m still game. Shoot, I’m dying to do the nasty with you.”

  He scrutinized her. “But?”

  Boy, he was good at reading her. “But…” Trying to find the right words, she cleared her throat. “The thing is…I need…”

  He didn’t rush her. He didn’t move. It almost looked as if he didn’t breathe.

  Deciding to just spit it out, she said, “It’s gotta be lights on. Me on top. You got a problem with that?”

  No reaction.

  “Spence?”

  He visibly shored up his self-control. “I don’t want to pressure you. I don’t want you to do anything before you’re ready.”

  “I’m ready. And trust me, I want to do this. I just have a few glitches, that’s all.”

  “Glitches?”

  “Like I said, lights on.”

  “Tell me why.”

  Seemed obvious to her. “So I can see you—that way, there’s no…confusion in my memories.”