Blind Fury

by Gwen Hernandez

He rocked back in surprise. That sounded like a challenge. And maybe an opportunity to regain her trust. “Ask me a question about anything besides Rob’s death or this thing with Smitty, and I promise to answer it honestly.”

  Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “Anything?”

  He nodded.

  “How many questions?”

  What was fair without opening himself up too much? “Three.” He moved to the futon and sat down, propping his feet on the coffee table. “Take your time.”

  She watched him carefully, chewing her lip. “Have you ever killed anyone?”

  “Jeez. Don’t pull any punches, okay, babe?” He closed his eyes for a second. As much as he wished he couldn’t, he remembered every fatal encounter. “Yes.”

  His answer couldn’t have been unexpected, but she still gasped and backed into the wall. Okay, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

  “Why?”

  “You want that to be question two?”

  She scowled at him. “No. You can’t just answer the follow-up out of the goodness of your heart?”

  “Who says I have any goodness in my heart?”

  “You should have been a politician.” She sat on one of the bar stools and gripped her water glass, taking a quick sip before she continued. “Okay, question two. Why did you make a point of talking to me every time Rob called?”

  Dropping his feet to the floor, he swiveled around so he could see her. A sexy blush stained her cheeks again, and with sudden clarity, he knew the real answer. An honest reply would give away too much, but if he lied, he’d undo any ground he was making up here.

  He took a deep breath and held her gaze. “I missed you.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  JENNA HADN’T EXPECTED MICK’S response. His answer did strange things to her nervous system. She wasn’t just a substitute sister to him; he’d missed her. Not just home, her. Flutters rose in her belly and spread down to her toes.

  Good thing she was sitting down, because his direct gaze was suddenly full of heat. She was useless when he looked at her like that.

  This was the direction she needed to take things, though, because in spite of how much he’d frightened her tonight, she still wanted him. She wanted him to get used to sharing his secrets with her. And she wanted him to think about her as a woman, not as Rob’s little sister.

  She cleared her throat and rubbed her palms on her thighs in preparation for question three. Did she have the guts to ask? She channeled her inner Tara. You can do it. With a fortifying breath, she hopped down from the stool and walked over to him, standing by his feet.

  His eyes followed her every move. “Uh-oh,” he said with a grin. “You look way too serious.”

  “Number three.” You can do it. Shoving her shaky hands into her back pockets, she forced herself to look at him when she spoke. “Do you want me?”

  He launched to his feet, gripping her shoulders with warm hands. “You have to ask?”

  “After today, yes.” His rejection had killed her confidence.

  He tilted her chin up and leaned in, answering in a low voice, “If you knew how much I want you right now, you’d run away.”

  “You tried that last time,” she said, lust swirling through her body at his nearness and the memory of their kiss beside the trail. She’d run from his rejection, not his passion.

  His hand slid along her neck and up into her hair, cradling her head in his large palm. She closed her eyes and savored his touch as his fingers caressed her scalp. He pulled her against his chest, wrapping his other arm around her waist. She ran her hands along his back, feeling the strong cables of muscle through his soft shirt.

  He was all heat and strength and spice, and her body flared to life as they connected from shoulder to toe.

  “I want you like I’ve never wanted anything or anyone,” he whispered in her ear. “It’s always been that way with you.”

  His words had the power to melt her, and when she looked up at him, she was surprised to see the raw honesty and yearning on his face. “Could have fooled me,” she said, thinking of all the years she’d pined for him, believing that he couldn’t possibly be interested in her, convincing herself that she didn’t want a man like him.

  “I was trying to. You were off limits, remember?” He stepped back, running his hands down her body until they rested at her waist, holding her at arm’s length. “You still are. God, what am I doing?”

  Her body leaned into him, begging silently for his return. “You were about to kiss me.” Her inner Tara rejoiced at her boldness.

  Mick shook his head. “I can’t, Jay. I—“ His face reddened and his hands tightened on her waist, but he just stared at her.

  “I know. You promised.” Maybe it was the last of her beer buzz, or maybe it was the final desperate act of a woman who’d lost everything, but at this moment, she wanted nothing more than for him to kiss her. So she set confident, brazen Jay free. “Why did you promise? Did you owe Rob?”

  “He was my best friend. You’re his sister,” he said, as if that explained everything. He shot her an exasperated look laced with longing and frustration.

  “Why do you call me Jay? Does it make it easier for you to think of me as someone else?”

  He opened his mouth, but then shook his head without answering.

  She plowed on and gave him a flirty smile, running her fingertip along his collar. “Well, maybe you’d like to tell me what really happened—”

  “Stop,” he murmured against her mouth, invading her personal space suddenly and without warning. He pressed his lips softly to hers, tugging at her lower lip. “Just stop.”

  His warm hands stroked up and down her spine, bringing their bodies closer together with each pass. Her nipples peaked with the first brush of his chest. She wanted to rub against him like a cat.

  Standing on her toes, Jenna reached for another taste. He met her halfway and slowly stole her breath with feather-soft kisses along her jaw and down her neck, sending tiny jolts of electricity across her skin. He returned to her mouth, licking and nibbling his way inside. She moaned when their tongues met, smooth and rough and eager. His hand slid down to her buttocks and urged her closer, rocking her against his growing erection. Oh, yeah, she was a goner.

  With a low groan, he snatched her legs up by the thighs and wrapped them around his waist before staggering back to the futon. His heat and hardness pressed against her core and she writhed in his lap, drunk with desire. Her jeans needed to go now, but she didn’t want to stop to take them off.

  “You’re so beautiful, so sexy.” He spoke in between kisses as he lightly dragged his fingers down her chest.

  The way he made her feel, she could almost believe him. And, God, if he would just…she arched her back, pressing her breasts against his hands. He chuckled and obliged her unspoken request by covering them completely with his palms as he stroked her nipples with his thumbs. A little buzz started along her nerves and traveled from low in her belly out to her fingers and toes. Oh, yes. That was precisely what she wanted.

  Until he whipped her shirt up and over her head, slipped a finger beneath the satin of her bra, and touched her bare skin. “Mmm, yeah.” That was what she wanted. Exactly that.

  And then he unhooked her bra, skimming it down her arms. Leaning forward, he took a nipple into his mouth.

  “Mmm…Mick.” She bit her lip at the exquisite pleasure, her hips jutting eagerly against his, her breath coming in shallow gasps. This was what she’d been waiting for.

  Until he withdrew.

  No, please. She grabbed his biceps. “Don’t stop.”

  “Never.”

  He captured her other breast in his mouth and licked until she thought she’d explode. She was a powder keg on fire, her fuse getting shorter by the second. Who needed control? Control was definitely overrated. Writhing in his lap as sensations hit her from everywhere at once, she completely gave in to him.

  He owned her.

  She wanted to own him too.
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  Running her hands down his sides, she found the hem of his shirt and pulled it up. He broke contact for just long enough to fling it across the room and then he lunged for her again, muscles rippling from his broad shoulders down to his abs.

  His stomach jumped under her tentative touch, and he alternated his attention between her breasts, caressing them with his hands, his tongue. If not for the intense need to touch him, to feel his skin beneath her fingers, she would have been content to collapse as pleasure washed through her.

  Sensations were building between her thighs, each wave tied to the pull of his mouth as if by a string. Suddenly she needed more. She wanted him inside her with a fierceness she’d never experienced. She kissed his forehead and skimmed her fingers along the waist of his jeans, dipping inside and beneath the elastic of his boxers.

  “Jenna,” he whispered hoarsely. “You make me crazy.” He launched to his feet, still holding her, supporting her by her thighs, and kissed her hungrily as he swayed toward the bedroom.

  For one brief moment, her body tightened. What the hell she was doing? This was Mick, reckless playboy, arrogant womanizer.

  But this was her plan. She was finally going to get what she wanted.

  He laid her on the bed and unbuttoned his jeans, his hungry gaze heating her skin to boiling. Who cared about the truth when the sexiest man alive wanted her? Her. Mousy, computer geek Jenna. Her throat went dry as he stripped bare and kneeled over her on the bed, the bad-boy tribal tattoo on his biceps dancing.

  The reality was better than any fantasy she’d come up with while lying alone in his bed these last few nights.

  He reached for the zipper on her pants. “Your turn,” he said.

  Worries long forgotten, she lifted her hips in invitation.

  Mick laid his hand on Jenna’s tight, flat stomach and traced the edge of her tattoo. This was crazy. This hot, sexy woman who melted when he caressed her was Jenna. Jenna, for God’s sake—Rob’s no-touch, hands-off little sister. But for the first time he didn’t care. And he couldn’t have stopped touching her if his life depended on it. In fact, he wanted to touch her everywhere.

  When he didn’t immediately undo her pants, she reached for the button herself.

  “Uh-uh,” he said, playfully slapping her hand away. “I want to do it.”

  “So what are you waiting for?” she asked, rising up on her elbows to nibble his lips.

  Her pink nipples were tight with desire and he flicked his thumb across one while cupping her breast in his palm. She gasped and closed her eyes.

  “I’m not done playing,” he said as he delved into her sweet mouth. How could he resist? She was at once wanton and demure, seductive and staid. He’d been dreaming of watching her shed her inhibitions for years. Now here she was in his bed, half-naked and begging for him.

  No man alive could have turned her down.

  Time lost all meaning as he slowly peeled away her jeans. The delicate tattoo slowly revealed itself as a flowering branch that followed the curve of her pelvis in the hollow of her stomach. “What is it?” he asked, gently rubbing her inked skin with his thumb and slipping her white cotton panties down to see the complete design.

  “A cherry blossom branch.”

  Her hips moved in a slow, sensuous rhythm beneath him, and he pressed his thigh between her knees to part her legs.

  “What does it mean?” he asked, his mouth replacing his hand to kiss each delicate flower and tiny leaf.

  Her belly tightened with each press of his lips, and her fingers dug into his shoulders. “It’s supposed to represent…” She moaned as his fingers stroked the silky smooth skin of her inner thigh. “It represents the beauty of life, but also how short it is. I wanted to get it done after my parents died. I finally got the nerve after Jimmy succumbed to his injuries.”

  He kissed her, pouring his regret for her loss, his admiration for the woman that she was into every stroke of his tongue and nip of his teeth. He wanted more than anything to make her forget the sadness of the last week—hell, the last several years—of her life.

  Eager to learn every inch of milky-white skin, he trailed his hand along the side of her breast, into the hollow beneath her ribs, around the flare of her hips, and down to her knee. There were so many lovely parts of her. He didn’t have enough hands to touch them all at once.

  He lay on his side, propped on one elbow and pressed his body against the length of her, swinging a leg over her thigh to pin her down. For tonight at least, she was his.

  She reached up to him, and he kissed her lips once more before moving to her breasts. As he caressed them, he brought one hand up to the apex of her long, shapely legs, and pressed a finger into her. She was so warm and moist, and she clenched around him, moving her hips to take him deeper.

  “You’re so hot, baby. I have to taste you.”

  She whimpered and his cock twitched in response, begging to replace his fingers. Easy. He wasn’t ready for the end yet. He kissed his way down from her breast, following the line of her tattoo.

  “Beautiful,” he said, gently spreading her delicate folds to reveal the prize.

  He flicked his tongue lightly across her sensitive nub and she bucked and cried out. A smile crossed his face. He had done this to her in his dreams, but the reality was infinitely better. At this moment, he was the luckiest man on earth.

  Going in for another taste, he gripped her hips with his hands and held her in place as she strained against him, every muscle taut. “Don’t fight it,” he murmured. “Just let go.”

  His fingers joined the party, and suddenly her whole body went rigid. She panted and moaned and squeezed her eyes shut, gripping the bedspread like it was a lifeline. “That’s it,” he whispered, nearing the edge himself. “Come for me, Jenna.”

  Her breath hitched and she arched up, a sexy cry escaping her lips as he stroked her with his tongue. He tasted her release as it shuddered through her and she went limp in his arms.

  He wanted to cry at the sight of this gorgeous angel who had so completely given herself over to him, this woman who glowed as if lit from within.

  Mick had thought there was no greater rush than risking death, but he’d been wrong. Bringing this amazing woman to climax could easily become an addiction. In fact, he already wanted to do it again.

  Jenna floated, every nerve ending buzzing as she lay limply across Mick’s bed. She’d expected to explode after he worked his magic a second time, but she was still there, heart pounding as he rose above her with a gleam in his eye.

  “You’re like a drug,” he said, stopping to nuzzle her breasts before planting a kiss on her mouth.

  She could taste herself on his lips, but instead of being weird, it was erotic. God, what had he done to her? He’d turned her into a shameless hussy. She tensed up and pressed her legs together, suddenly embarrassed at how she’d let him strip her bare.

  He slid his knee between her thighs and caressed her hip. “Don’t get shy on me now, baby,” he whispered in her ear as his fingers trailed back to her heat and dipped inside. “I want to be right here,” he said.

  Her body reacted instantly to his presence and she pushed against him, giving in to the pleasure. She wanted him inside her too. More than anything.

  “That’s it,” he murmured as she relaxed.

  He magically produced a condom from somewhere—the bedside table?—and rolled it on, pinning her to the bed with his blazing blue eyes. She would not think about how expertly he sheathed himself. She would not wonder how many women had had this intimate view of the Adonis who moved over her with such confidence and grace.

  Lowering himself to his elbows, he peppered her face with kisses and gently spread her legs, pressing his erection against her eager flesh. He hesitated. “Jenna?”

  Not Jay, Jenna. She loved hearing her name on his lips. She met his questioning gaze with a quick thrust of her hips, taking the sweet invasion with a gasp of pleasure. He was so large and hot and the pressure was unbearably
exquisite. “Yes,” she whispered. Something coiled within her, a restless ache that only he could ease. More. She widened her legs, inviting him deeper.

  “God, Jenna.” He closed his eyes and groaned. His head fell to her shoulder and he gripped her hips, his breath coming in short bursts as he set a hurried pace, pumping hard, meeting her stroke for stroke as they both raced toward the edge. “Come with me,” he rasped, nipping at her shoulder and squeezing her buttocks.

  She couldn’t. She wasn’t ready, but…oh, wait. She gripped his shoulders, digging her nails into his back, pressing him closer, deeper. And then the tight cord inside her snapped, sending sparks of electricity through her veins as lights burst in her vision.

  Mick cried out and locked up, eyes shut tight as he dove off the precipice and joined her in the pool of rapture. She floated there with him, adrift in the aftermath of their lovemaking. It should have been one of her happiest moments, an oasis in an otherwise disastrous week. But a thought popped through her bubble of joy and she couldn’t shake it.

  What have I done?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  TARA AWOKE ALONE IN the dark. Her back was cold where Colin had been wrapped around her. According to his alarm clock it was after midnight. She slipped one of his large shirts over her head and padded out to the living room. He rarely slept, she’d learned, but perhaps she could coax him back to bed. It had worked before.

  In the dim light that filtered through the blinds from the street lamps, the townhome sat empty and cold. Where was he?

  “What’s going on?” She could hear his muffled voice through the opening of the sliding glass door to the balcony, where he stood partially hidden by vertical blinds that had been pulled back.

  She started toward the door, thinking she could slip outside and hold him while he talked. But her steps faltered as she approached the door. Who would he be talking to this late? Would he be mad if she overheard his conversation? But what if something had happened to someone in his family and he needed her support?