A Perfect Storm

by Lori Foster

Sluggishly, Arizona pushed up on straightened arms and looked at him. With an amused shake of her head and a groan of near-discomfort, she unbent her legs—and collapsed again.

  And even that, feeling her slim but strong limbs around him, her full breasts and now soft nipples on his sweat-damp chest…it moved him. A lot.

  In myriad ways.

  While trying to calm his chaotic thoughts, Spencer idly caressed her dewy skin. He could span the width of her back with one hand, and yet she had more courage than most grown men.

  At six feet, five inches tall, he towered over a lot of people. His job as a bounty hunter, his demeanor of grim resolve, gave most reason for pause. But not Arizona. From their very first meeting, she’d gone head to head with him, her pride, her determination and confidence matching his in spades.

  She’d been smart enough for wariness; she had a very real understanding of her own limitations. But she’d had no real fear of him.

  Mostly because she thought she had little enough to lose. But also because she had real skill. Granted, the skills were limited by her size and strength, but put to the test, she’d do well under pressure or in a situation rife with danger.

  He admired her.

  And now, knowing she also matched him sexually…it was more than any man should have to deal with.

  “Holy smokes, Spence.” She gave him a playful love bite, then rubbed her nose over his chest hair. “I’m almost speechless.”

  Relishing all the tantalizing dips and curves of her body, he ran his hands from her shoulders to her ass and back again. She was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

  The most fearless. Most reckless.

  And the most endearing.

  What the hell was he going to do with her?

  Unlike with other women, he couldn’t just decide to enjoy his time with her while it lasted. He squeezed his eyes shut, but he couldn’t shut out the reality of their relationship.

  Complicated, difficult and important—to her, to her future and how she accepted life. How she valued herself.

  He was the biggest fraud imaginable, because he’d known from the onset that he couldn’t play this game without eventually bedding her. He wasn’t superhuman, and that’s what it’d take to resist a woman like Arizona, especially while getting closer.

  So he’d known, and still he’d used the excuse of trying to help her over the hurdles of emotional and physical abuse as a way to get her under him. Because he’d had to have her.

  God, that sounded awful, even as it rang true.

  And that made him a grade-A bastard.

  Arizona would be the first to deny it, but she was by far the most vulnerable woman he’d ever met. She had no understanding of common courtesy, much less genuine kindness. She expected little and told herself she wanted, and deserved, nothing more.

  For her, affection was an unfamiliar, even alien concept. As a grown and experienced man, he could decipher what he felt. He could deal with it.

  He understood it.

  But Arizona didn’t have the advantage of healthy relationships to contrast against this. Her emotional growth had been so badly stunted by traffickers that she might misconstrue sexual satisfaction for something…more.

  She deserved all those exciting first discoveries that most girls started building in their late teens. Arizona deserved to have comparisons, to really know what she felt and what she wanted.

  She should expect the best, because she deserved it.

  “You’ve gotten awfully quiet.”

  He cupped a big hand over her backside, palming one cheek. “You wore me out and my brain is sluggish.”

  Sounding far too young, she asked with forced insouciance, “Not disappointed?”

  Her uncertainty stabbed like a knife. “No, baby.” He kissed her crown, then the bridge of her nose. “I’m as far from disappointed as a man could get.”

  “Good.” Relief lightened her tone. “Because I liked it, too.”

  That made him smile. “I know.”

  “You do?”

  “I figured coming twice was a positive sign.”

  “Oh. Yeah, I guess.” She propped herself up with her pointy little elbows on his chest. “I’ve never done that before.”

  “Come with a man?”

  Nodding, she toyed again with his chest hair. “By myself, well, that’s different. But the idea of getting with a man willingly…”

  “I understand.” And he was very glad to be the man who shared that with her.

  “You surprised me.”

  The room was quiet, the gray day intimate, the tumbled sheets comfortable. He ran his fingers through her tangled hair. Everything about her, physical and emotional, fascinated him more than he’d ever thought possible. “Give me an hour or so, and I can surprise you again.”

  She didn’t smile with him. “So…”

  That particular serious look on Arizona had him really curious. “Something on your mind, honey?”

  She chewed her lower lip, then blurted, “Jackson is pretty notorious sex candy.”

  Sex candy? Jackson? That wasn’t at all what he’d expected, and for a moment, he stalled. While exploring the curve of her behind, he explained quietly, “You probably don’t know this, but when you’re sprawled out over a naked man after having sex with him, it’s really bad form to talk about another guy.”

  Her brows scrunched down. “But I’m curious.”

  Worse and worse.

  He didn’t want to discourage her—not in any way—so he tried to hide all disgruntlement. “About Jackson?”

  She studied him, and her face brightened with a mocking grin. “Not that way.” Laughing, she slugged his shoulder. “It’s just that I was thinking of him being such a panty-dropper.”

  The things she said could make his brain swim. “Former panty-dropper.”

  She looked at him in confusion. “What?”

  Because it was important for her to understand the distinction, which reflected not only on relationships in general but also highlighted the difference between honorable men and cheaters, Spencer tried to explain. “Jackson is in love with Alani. You know that, right?”

  “He doesn’t exactly hide his feelings about her. So what?”

  “Being in love means that Alani’s panties are the only ones Jackson wants to drop from now on.”

  Perplexed, she thought about that. “So a guy has to be in love to give up variety?”

  He had no idea about the direction of her thoughts. But he wanted to be patient with her, and he wanted her to feel comfortable asking him anything. “What’s this about, baby?”

  She veered offtrack to ask, “Why are you calling me baby?”

  Leaning in to put his nose in her neck, Spencer smelled her. Touched her. Tasted her skin. “You are so soft, and so sweet. It’s just an endearment. You don’t like it?”

  “I don’t know. I guess it’s okay.”

  He kissed her to keep from smiling. “So what are you thinking about?”

  After a long hesitation that built the tension, she blurted, “Are you going to be doing this with any other women? I mean, while you’re doing it with me?”

  Jealousy? Possessiveness? He suffered both, but he hadn’t expected it of her. Pretending to misunderstand, he mused aloud, “I did offer that redhead in the bar a three-way—”

  She slugged him again, not so playfully this time. “Not funny, Spence.”

  The grin got away from him. “It’s a little funny.”

  She started to leave him, but he held on to her, and after the briefest wrestling match where he chuckled and she groused, she gave up. “Fine.” Plopping down on him again, she snapped, “Do whatever you want. Screw whoever you want.”

/>   “I need a few minutes first, but thanks.”

  Her mouth opened, then closed. After a second, she asked, “Me?”

  “I’m a one-woman-at-a-time man.” He lifted her face and kissed her lightly on her mulish mouth. “Right now, you’re the only one I want.”

  “Really?”

  She looked so hopeful, wearing her heart on her sleeve, not bothering to protect herself. She would protect the world, anyone she thought needed her help.

  But she wouldn’t protect her own heart.

  “Silly Arizona.” He cupped her face, stroked her jaw with a thumb. “How on earth could I want any other woman when you’re around?”

  Her mood lightened, and she surprised him by sitting up with a smile. “Let’s go eat some cake. I’m hungry.” She eyed him from head to toe and back again. “And maybe the sugar will speed along your recovery.”

  So she wanted him again? Nice. “That particular hungry look from you might have done the trick.” He reached for her—and his doorbell rang.

  Her expression went from impish to suspicious. “Who is that?”

  “No idea.” Bodily, he lifted her out of his way and stood. “Why don’t you stay put and I’ll go find out?”

  “Like that?” She nodded at his crotch. “Probably not a good idea.”

  “Smart-ass.” He removed the spent condom and dropped it into the waste can, then reached for a pair of boxers.

  Fascinated, Arizona watched him intently. “Well, you know who it is.”

  He had an idea, but it wasn’t easy to banter with her while she sat there naked, in his bed, still warm from sex and staring so fixedly at his junk. “Who?”

  “It’s Marla.”

  “You don’t know that.” He pulled on jeans as the bell rang again. “Could be the postman.” And just to tease her, he said, “Or maybe Jackson decided to visit you.”

  “Nah.” She sprawled to her back, one leg bent, arms over her head, and stretched. She was utterly comfortable in her nudity. “He’ll visit with us later today at Dare’s.”

  Spencer had to take a turn staring. “I don’t suppose you’d want to stay exactly like that until I get back.”

  She went still, then smiled. “You plan to take long?”

  “No.” He wanted Arizona again, and he didn’t trust her to her own temper, so he’d send Marla on her way as quickly as he could.

  “Will you bring me some cake?”

  In two long strides, Spencer reached her. Without thinking about it, he leaned over her for a quick smooch and ended up kissing air when Arizona bolted to the other side of the bed.

  She stood there, shoulders back with pride, face pinched with embarrassment.

  Spencer straightened. They stared at each other. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”

  Her mouth tightened, but she nodded. “It’s okay.”

  No, it wasn’t, but the bell sounded again. “I was only going to kiss you.”

  Suddenly bounding up and over the bed to land in front of him, she grabbed his face for a hard kiss. “I’m sorry I…reacted. Now go. But hurry back. If you’re gone long at all, my imagination is going to really tick me off.”

  That made him grin. He left the room before he changed his mind and didn’t go at all. That would be unkind to Marla.

  * * *

  THE SECOND HE CLEARED the room, Arizona dropped back on the bed with a groan. Why did she have to act like a putz just because Spencer tried to kiss her? God, she despised her own weaknesses. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would never physically hurt her.

  But deep down, in places where reason didn’t exist, it didn’t matter. Some fears remained, and they gnawed at her peace of mind, keeping her from true freedom.

  Disgusted with herself, she lay there in the bed for a minute before jumping up to creep down the hallway, going far enough to listen in.

  Sadly, she couldn’t hear a thing other than the soft drone of voices. Definitely Marla—not that she’d had a doubt.

  Did Spencer still want that woman? Did he have fond memories of his time with her? Lustful memories? For certain, Marla didn’t go fleeing the bed in a panic over a kiss.

  Marla, damn her, would not have hang-ups that limited what Spencer could do.

  Turning to face the wall, Arizona clunked her head once, then stalked into the bathroom. She stared at herself in the mirror, but her frown looked the same, as did her eyes, mouth, nose. And other than a few whisker burns here and there, and a possible hickey on her neck, her body didn’t look any different, either.

  She touched the interesting passion bruise on her neck and went all soft and mushy again.

  Man, oh, man, Spencer knew how to play it in the sack. The guy had some serious skills. With his mouth, his hands.

  Skills he’d used with other women.

  How had Marla put it? If you’d ever had him, you’d feel differently about having him again.

  Yeah, she got that.

  Now.

  Because she definitely wanted him again.

  But what did she know about hanging on to a guy? Before Spencer, she’d just wanted men to keep their distance. Shoot, she would have kicked their butts to ensure they didn’t get too close. Well, except for Jackson, but that was different. She and Jackson were…friends. Almost like family.

  But not exactly.

  Now, with Spencer, she wanted to get as close as two people could get.

  Sure, he’d seemed content enough with their little go-around in the sack. But Spencer had told her all along that he wanted to normalize her—her words, not his—and that once she got over her hang-ups, he intended to send her packing off to some other nameless, faceless dude.

  Arizona curled her lip. Not happening. No other guy appealed to her like he did. If forced to it, she could screw another guy, and she’d survive it just as she always had.

  But she would never crave another man the way she craved Spencer.

  She wouldn’t enjoy anyone else like she did Spencer. She snorted. Enjoy. What a wimpy word for how she’d felt.

  Wrapping her arms around herself, Arizona thought of all the ways he excited her senses. She loved looking at him. The man had a seriously hard, sexy body. He was so damned big. All over. And his body hair…fascinating. It added to his manliness, not that he needed any help with that. He was so macho, he could define the word.

  Breathing in his hot scent made her tingly all over. Other than noticing unpleasant odors, like sweat and alcohol, she’d never paid attention to a man’s aroma. But Spencer smelled so delicious that she practically hyperventilated when near him, because she kept breathing deep, filling her lungs with him.

  Oh, and his taste… A flock of butterflies rioted in her stomach with just the memory of his kiss, the stroke of his damp tongue, the heat of his mouth. Knowing how good his sleek flesh tasted under her tongue, she wondered about tasting him everywhere. Maybe, once she got more used to him, she’d give it a go. Would Spencer like that? She snorted again.

  All guys liked the pleasure of a woman’s mouth.

  But most of all, she really, really loved touching him. All over. With her hands, her mouth. Sliding her body over his—

  The unexpected peal of her cell phone nearly stopped her heart.

  Good grief, she’d been totally immersed in a stand-up, vivid, hot-and-bothered fantasy. All about Spencer.

  A guy she’d just had sex with and who was, at this very moment, standing in his doorway wearing nothing but jeans, showing off his awesome bod while chatting with Marla, a woman who’d shared his bed.

  Bleh. She’d have to visualize stomping them both later. Right now, she had to answer her phone. Because her separate phones had distinctive rings, she knew it was a social call. But because
she had few enough people who ever called her, she assumed Jackson wanted to make sure she wouldn’t back out of the visit today.

  She managed to find her purse and dig out the correct cell on the fourth ring.

  Without checking the caller ID, she said, “What’s up?”

  “Candy?”

  Oh, no. No way.

  Luckily the bed was right there, because her backside landed on it before she’d even realized her knees were bending. “Yes?”

  “It’s Quin.”

  No reply came to mind.

  “From the Green Goose.”

  Her tongue felt thick when she said, “Quinto?”

  “You gave me this number. On a note, in my pocket. Last night. Do you remember?”

  Yeah, now she remembered. But until she’d heard his voice, she’d forgotten all about that. What did the call mean?

  And what the hell had she been thinking?

  “I am sorry to bother you,” Quin said with strained apology. “You were drinking, so you probably do not—”

  Thoughts scrambling, Arizona interrupted him, anxious to keep him on the phone. “No, it’s fine. I’m glad to hear from you.” Trying for cheerfulness to cover her shock, wishing she could order her memories so that they made sense, she asked stupidly, “What’s up, Quin?”

  Audible breathing, along with a lot of hesitation, filled her ear. “Since I will not be able to see you at the bar again, I wanted to thank you.”

  Her mouth went dry as dust. Think, Arizona, think.

  She cleared her throat. “Why wouldn’t you see me?” Oh, God, that sounded lame, not at all convincing. But was she supposed to know of the raid? Should she remain undercover? Hadn’t Dare busted that whole gig wide open?

  Think, think, think.

  Hoping for inspiration, she said, “Maybe you don’t know, but I got hired to work there. I report in tonight.”

  She heard some shuffling, as if he’d muffled the phone, or his groan, then Quin whispered, “No, you do not.”

  “Why not?” Somehow she knew, absolutely knew, that Quin was in big trouble.

  “The police came, with others. You were a part of that, right?”

  “The police?” She’d drunk so much that she couldn’t recall if she was supposed to be aware of the raid or not. Rubbing her forehead, she asked, “What are you talking about?”