Hard To Resist

by Kylie Brant

  His breath sawed out of his lungs. There was a reason for taking it slow. But at the moment it was difficult to recall. His hand caressed the satin of her thigh, felt the whisper of muscle beneath the silky skin. It was always an erotic delight to rediscover Addie’s softness. His fingers trailed closer to her core of heat, and he thrilled at her quiver.

  She forgot to breathe. He gave her no choice but to feel. A.J. gloried in the choice, even realizing it came with risk. But right now there was only his body close to hers, smooth flesh stretched over padded muscle. Her fingers traced over him, where sinew and bone joined to leave intriguing hollows. Each begged to be explored with soft lips and swift hands.

  Longing battled with doubt. He traced the crease where her leg met her hip and she stiffened, her lungs clogged. He was moving down her body, painting her flesh with his tongue. Her blood turned hot, molten and chugged through her veins like lava. Her world, her focus, narrowed to include only the two of them.

  Need, Dare was finding, was a double-edged sword, one as painful as it was pleasurable. And, poised on that razor-edged peak, he was as primed as she for a fall. He couldn’t find it in himself to care. His mouth found her moist warmth and her back arched. He slipped his hands beneath her hips, lifted her to devour. The soft, strangled sounds tumbling from her lips urged him on, to take more. To give more. And when she shot to release in a wild shuddering mass, she cried his name.

  A.J. fought to haul breath into her lungs. Her limbs were weak, lax. And for the moment at least, she felt utterly tranquil. She felt the bed move, and her eyelids fluttered open. Tranquility abruptly fled. Here was the danger she’d forgotten, in the primally masculine man bending over her. Her hand raised of its own volition, curved around his neck and brought his mouth to hers.

  She’d never known desire to be quenched so violently, to return so quickly. He was hard, intriguingly so, and when her fingers went in exploration, he suffered her touch for only a moment before moving her hand away. Her lips curved. He was determined to maintain control. She was equally determined that he lose it.

  She pushed him to his back, surprising him, then went on a journey of discovery. His breath heaved out of his chest as her teeth scored his skin lightly, nipping a path from his shoulder to his belly. His restraint unraveled a bit more with each soft touch.

  They rolled across the sheets, into and out of the sunlight spilling on the bed. Dare’s gentleness had vanished, hunger raging. His vision misted, but his other senses were alert. Achingly so. The sweet dark flavor of her tongue battling with his. The silkiness of her hair, brushing against his skin, and the sexy tight grasp of her hands as she explored him where he was hot, hard and pulsing.

  The teasing was gone. Gentleness was beyond him. His arousal was primal, basic and immediate. His hands battled hers, and he rolled her to his side, drew her leg over his hip. Testing her readiness with one finger, he watched her eyelids droop.

  “Look at me, Addie,” he demanded, his voice as ragged as his control. “Open your eyes.”

  He moved into position, his shaft barely parting her warm cleft and stilled. Only when she dragged her eyelids open, eyes dazed and unfocused, did he ease into her, pausing as she twisted and moaned against him. He moved in tiny increments, not satisfied until he was seated deep inside her. Then he took her mouth with his own, savagely aware that they were touching, every inch of their bodies. Inside and out. And still it wasn’t enough.

  He withdrew from her only to lunge again, each time deeper, harder, faster. They were caught in a vortex, spinning wilder and wilder. Out of control. He saw her face spasm, felt the clench of her inner muscles, swallowed her cry with his mouth. And then, only then, did he let the tide sweep him under and dash him up and over the edge.

  Minutes, or hours, later he stroked a hand along the curve of her waist before settling it possessively on her hip. Each beat of her heart was echoed with his. Their breathing slowed, and eventually reason intruded. He started to move away, and her fingers tightened, in an automatic reflexive response. Reluctantly he ignored it. The protection he’d used was fast losing its effectiveness. He took care of it and rolled back to her. To please himself, he pushed the heavy tangle of hair away from her face, and skimmed his fingertips over her shoulder and down her arm.

  It would be easy to stay like this. To cuddle and make love, eat, sleep, make love some more. He knew from personal experience that it would be intensely satisfying. He also knew it would be a mistake.

  Once before, he’d thought they’d forged a bond, and Addie had been able to draw away, until the distance had yawned between them like an unspannable chasm. He wasn’t going to make the mistake again. This time she’d choose.

  Picking up her hand, he measured it against his palm. “This wasn’t just sex, Addie. At least, it doesn’t have to be.” Her eyes widened, and the fear he read there tightened his gut. “You need to choose. If sex is all you want, just say the word and I’ll be out the door. If I stay, we have more. It’s your call.”

  Without conscious volition, her fingers locked with his. He couldn’t know what he was asking. She wanted, badly, to choose sex. To have the strength to watch him leave her bed, dress and walk out of her life. Even as she mourned the choice, she knew it’d be easiest in the long run. Less risky. And considerably less terrifying than the alternative.

  She hated this. Trying to quench the lick of panic in her veins, she reached for anger instead. Who was he to make such demands on her? She didn’t want to deal with this jumble of emotions, the mingled doubts and fears. Far better to end this now. Again. Before there was a sticky tangle of recriminations and disappointments to assuage.

  His eyes were laser blue, focused on hers. They demanded an answer. She gave him the only one she was capable of, certain even as she spoke it that it was a mistake.

  “Stay.”

  Chapter 11

  The most intimate thing A.J. could imagine was waking up beside a man. She lay quietly next to Dare, listening to his quiet breathing, watching the even rise and fall of his chest.

  Nerves made a frantic little circle in her stomach. In the past she’d taken such care to avoid just this moment. Sex was a natural need, one to be judiciously indulged, quenched and then forgotten. It was simplest that way. Uncomplicated.

  The man beside her had been nothing but complications since they’d met.

  Muscles tense, she was compelled to move. Slipping from the bed, she walked noiselessly to the bathroom. She wrapped herself in the robe hanging on the door, then tiptoed out to the living room and watched dawn paint the sky in glowing pastels.

  The early morning hours had a way of stripping secrets bare, uncovering truths that would be more comfortable to ignore. It wasn’t the sex, had never been the act itself that had sent her running from Dare’s arms two years ago. It was the bone-jarring connection that had been forged so easily, despite her efforts at distance. That kind of bond, she’d always thought, was to be avoided at all costs. It wouldn’t be as devastating to lose a man as it would be to chance losing a piece of herself.

  As always when such doubts rose and threatened to swamp her, she thought of her mother. Her life, her happiness had been so entwined with her husband’s that each of his betrayals had torn a jagged wound that wouldn’t heal.

  An abusive drunk with quick fists and a mean tongue, Rich Jacobs had never taken care of anyone but himself. How was it, then, that the man’s betrayal had stolen her mother’s very sanity? How much more dangerous would be a man who was kind? Compassionate. Witty and warm.

  Palms damp, she wiped them on the front of her robe. She’d never been a risk taker. It was doubtful that a lifetime of playing it safe could be overturned by one night. By one man. But she could no longer deny that she dearly wished otherwise.

  Dare watched her in dawn’s pale glow and could almost hear the thoughts bouncing frenetically about in her practical mind. He was beginning, perhaps, to know her a bit better. And, understanding her, he had an idea
how to play this moment so that it would go more smoothly than their last morning after. Or so he hoped.

  For whatever reason too much closeness too fast sent her backing away at breakneck speed. The answer could well lie in distraction, an area in which he had a certain expertise. And although he could think of much more pleasurable ways to divert her than with conversation, he tucked his hormones firmly away and concentrated on the matter at hand. The trick was to give her enough distance to allay her fears but not enough to separate them.

  Because he was through being held at arm’s length.

  “Your morning etiquette is definitely lacking. First one up is supposed to put the coffee on.” He pretended not to notice the start she gave. Crossing to the kitchen, he set her machine brewing before joining her in the living room, buttoning his shirt.

  “How are you feeling?” He dismissed her automatic reassurance and examined her with a critical eye. The bruises on her face were blooming rainbows, but her eyes were clear, if one discounted their faint sheen of panic.

  “I’m going to work today.”

  It was plain from the tinge of belligerence in her tone that she expected an argument. He skirted it, and her, to go to the front door. Retrieving the morning paper, he skimmed the headline. “Good idea. You’re going to want to rethink your whole strategy with Delgado. Maybe even consider new charges.”

  He’d managed, finally, to divert her. “What are you talking about? There’s no way we’re ever going to prove a connection between my kidnapping and his case.”

  He looked up then, his brows raised. “No, but we do have a witness willing to testify that Delgado paid him to plant evidence after a homicide.” He gave himself a moment to enjoy her dumbfounded expression, then strolled out the kitchen, whistling tunelessly.

  “You’ve been holding out on me?” Incredibly, she sounded indignant. “When did you get this new information? Why haven’t you mentioned it before?” Trailing after him, she peppered him with the questions.

  “I just found out the day before yesterday. And you’ll have to excuse me,” his tone was dry, “but I’ve been a little busy in the time since.”

  It was a measure of her interest that the reference barely registered. Instead she was busily connecting the pieces. “You followed up on the lead I found, didn’t you? You went and talked to Benson.” At his nod, she slapped the counter. “I knew it! C’mon, Dare, start at the beginning. What’d you find out?”

  There was a certain male satisfaction in knowing that he’d managed to make her completely forget her earlier nerves. But that satisfaction was nothing compared to the pleasure curling low in his belly just at the sound of his name on her lips. Dare. Not McKay. Not any of the other creative variations she’d come up with over the years.

  And he needed to wonder just how completely he’d lost it if such a simple thing could mean so much.

  Pushing that troublesome thought aside, he sat down and proceeded to fill her in on his visit with Benson. When he finished, she got up and walked into the other room, opened her briefcase and took out a legal pad. Returning to the kitchen, she took the mug of coffee he’d poured for her and sipped. “Did you have a chance to talk to his associate and corroborate his story?”

  He nodded, picking up his own mug. “His name is Gellar, and he pretty much repeated what Benson had told me. Both of the men are prepared to talk to Connally, and you.”

  Jotting some notes, A.J. said, “Even if they’ll testify to it, it’s not proof that Delgado actually did the murder.” She looked up then, a sly gleam in her eye. “But it sure does give us leverage.”

  She was unable to contain her excitement. Dare fanned it by relating the tale Benson had told him about Delgado’s murder of the inmate at Leavenworth. “Think Delgado might start to get shook up if he knew we had some people willing to testify they knew him as Paulie the Knife? And how he actually came to earn the name?”

  They grinned at each other. Dare added, “I’m thinking just the smell of this information is going to convince ol Paulie to cut a deal and name names. Would Beardmore be interested?”

  A.J. got up, drained her remaining coffee. “There’s only one way to find out.”

  The Cook County Courthouse was a magnificent building. On the national historic registry, it boasted a history dating back almost two centuries, from a time when architects built public buildings designed to impress.

  Perhaps its most imposing quality were the two flights of marble steps leading up to its entrance, each set numbering exactly fifty stairs. A.J. had always figured that just going to and from work saved her at least ten minutes a day on the treadmill.

  “I don’t know what you hope to get accomplished here,” she told him as they climbed the steps. “I have meetings to set up with Beardmore and Stanley. Then I have to get in touch with Connally and…”

  “And I’m going to be there during it all.” His voice brooked no opposition. “I’m the one who interviewed Bensen.”

  “After I came up with the lead.” She made no effort to keep the smugness out of her voice as she trotted lightly up the steps. When he didn’t keep pace with her she turned. “You said it was a long shot, remember….” Her voice trailed off when she caught his expression, and she swallowed hard.

  She’d seen him angry before…had had that chilling rage turned on her more than once. But she’d never seen him like this. His face was closed, cold, but his eyes…they burned with a loathing so strong it nearly staggered her.

  A.J. turned her head in the direction of his gaze and saw a meticulously dressed older man approaching. He drew to a stop before them, a slight smile playing on his thin lips.

  “Mr. McKay. How fortuitous to see you today. Might I hope you’re here to defend yourself against a well-deserved libel suit?” The man adjusted the cuffs on his immaculate pin-striped suit, his diamond pinky ring flashing in the sunlight. “I admit the idea titillates the imagination.”

  “Mannen.” Ice could have been chipped from the word. “Don’t tell me that Justice has caught up with you at last.”

  Victor Mannen. A.J.’s blood went glacial. This was the man Dare was convinced was behind Delgado’s kidnapping attempt of Meghan and ultimately, all that had befallen her, as well. She studied him in the bright sunlight. He was an advertisement for old money and impeccable bloodlines. Whatever else he was didn’t show on the surface.

  Mannen’s brows rose above his chilly gray eyes. “I wouldn’t know what you’re referring to, I’m sure. I hope I won’t be reading such tripe in your column. Slander carries such a nasty penalty these days.” He switched his attention to A.J. “Miss Jacobs. I recognize you from television. I’m afraid you look the worse for wear. I hope you haven’t been the recipient of McKay’s temper. I know for a fact that he doesn’t always keep firm control of it.”

  Dare bared his teeth in what couldn’t pass for a smile. “You’d be surprised what I have a firm control over these days. As a matter of fact, you’ll probably be finding out for yourself very soon.”

  There was a flicker in Mannen’s eyes, quickly hidden, before he said disdainfully, “Threats, McKay? You should know by now that no one will ever believe your absurd vendetta against me.” He began his descent again, started to pass by them. “How is your father, by the way? Still getting a bang out of life?”

  One moment Dare was standing rigidly at A.J.’s side, the next he had Mannen by his crisp suit lapels, his face shoved close to the other man’s. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten, you bastard. Don’t ever make the mistake of believing I’ve forgotten.”

  A.J. reached out unconsciously, laid a hand on Dare’s arm. She could feel the muscles jumping reflexively beneath her fingers. He appeared impervious to her, his attention focused solely on the man before him. For one tension-charged minute their gazes battled, hatred emanating from them in waves. Then slowly Dare loosened his grip and Mannen pulled away, smoothed his suit front.

  “As I said, Ms. Jacobs, his temper is uncertain. I’d ad
vise you to use care around him.” He continued down the steps and only then did A.J. feel the tension begin to seep from Dare’s body.

  It was all she could do to keep up with him as he moved up the stairs. They didn’t speak until they were inside the courthouse, its shadowy interior decidedly cooler than the already steamy temperatures outside. When it became obvious that he wasn’t going to speak, A.J. did. “Mannen is certainly as unpleasant as you made out.”

  Dare gave a harsh laugh. “Unpleasant? Yeah, I guess you could call a drug-dealing murderer unpleasant.” It was apparent from his bitter tone that his rage still simmered.

  “How does he happen to know your father?”

  Silence stretched, long enough to convince her that he didn’t mean to answer. The certainty was accompanied by an absurd sense of disappointment. She had no right to the feeling, not when the thought of lowering her own defenses with him could still bring her to a state of alarm. Tucking the unfamiliar emotion away, she said evenly, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t…”

  Her words seemed to pierce the stillness that had overtaken him. “Yes,” he said. “You should.” Taking her elbow in his hand, he drew her out of the line of traffic to one of the huge marble columns that dotted the entry. “I’m not shutting you out, Addie.” His words were deliberate and reflected her thoughts with embarrassing accuracy.

  “About four years ago I was involved in a story on a drug cartel, and I was pretty sure that Mannen was up to his ears in it. He must have known I was getting close, because he came after me.” His narrative was flat, emotionless, but when his gaze met hers she saw that the earlier rage had only been tucked away, not forgotten. “He had my car wired with a bomb, rigged to blow as soon as there’s any disturbance to the vehicle.

  “My dad was at my place. His car was acting up, and he was supposed to go to visit my sister. I’d said he could use mine. About twenty yards from the car he used the automatic lock release I have on my key chain, and everything blew to hell.”