The ensuing silence seemed to press on her eardrums and created a vacuum in her lungs. His body didn’t move an inch, but his mouth fell open slightly. Ursa experienced a vivid memory of his mouth enveloping hers… of his owning her with it.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he finally said dismissively.
“Says who? You?”
“Damn straight,” he muttered, turning away slightly in his leather swivel chair and resuming his fake preoccupation with the papers on his desk. It infuriated her; he thought he knew her so well that he could disregard her without a blink of the eye. He didn’t know her. Sometimes, she thought no one did. At least not completely. Growing desperate, she caught his wrist as he flipped aside a form. He froze and stared up at her.
“If you know so much about me, then you must realize that I have a serious attraction for dominant, masculine men. Unfortunately, it’s not a desire easily fulfilled. Especially when family and friends think you’re a fragile saint who never has had a dirty thought in her life.” She leaned down toward him. “But I have, Z. Plenty,” she whispered.
His expression grew even more intimidating.
“Don’t fuck with me, Ursa.”
“Then fuck with me,” she tempted him, running her fingers up his arm and testing the steely hard bicep of his tattooed arm.
His hand snapped in the air, latching on to her wrist like a tripped trap. She glanced up into his eyes, startled. Her heart was beating so fast, she didn’t think her chest could hold it. Their faces were only inches apart.
You’re dancing with the devil now.
“Listen to every word I say,” he said, his voice quiet but diamond-hard. “I want you to stand up right now, and I want you to walk out of this room. You won’t look back. You’re going to forget everything that happened a month ago.”
Ursa swallowed with difficulty. He scared her a little in that moment. He alarmed her a lot. How could she have dared to come here… how could she have thought she could seduce Z Beckett, for God’s sake?
Then it struck her. He ordered her to walk away. But he didn’t move. He continued to hold on to her with a death grip… and she felt like she could see forever in his blue eyes.
She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his. At first, he didn’t move. She merely ran her lips across his warm, tightly closed mouth.
But then she felt the give in his hard flesh, and he was sandwiching her lower lip between his.
Their mouths began a seeking, sliding, forbidden dance.
Chapter Six
Z groaned and pushed her back. Ursa felt a hole open up in her chest as she watched him shove on the desk with both hands and stand. He walked over to a corner and placed his forehead in his hand. She saw his back moving in and out as he tried to calm his breathing, and she sensed his struggle.
“You were a virgin, Ursa.”
Hearing the break in his deep voice—seeing his conflict firsthand when for most of her life, she’d only sensed it simmering just beneath the surface—her desperation rose. She stood and stepped up behind him.
“That’s why you’re so upset, isn’t it? Because you only see me as some kind of kid-next-door-virgin?”
“No, it’s not just that.”
“Because if you’re thinking that, even a little, it’s not true,” she insisted hotly. It pained her to see him this way, so twisted up when he usually was so smooth, so ruled by natural instinct and primal male grace. She was desperate to make him see her for whom she was, not some narrow, paper doll cutout identity he’d created of her as a boy. It made her wild.
“I may have been a virgin, but I’ll tell you something you don’t know about me,” she blurted out defiantly. “I put up a profile both on Biker HookUp and Dominant Play.”
She held her breath at the lie. Well, it wasn’t entirely a falsehood. She’d investigated those online, sexy sites. Yes, she’d even fantasized about participating in those games, and finding herself some Dominant Prince Charming.
But the practical side of herself had always warned her that her fantasies would be very different than the much harsher, colder, ugly reality behind those sexy Internet “dating” sites.
It took her a second or two to realize Z had gone completely still. Even his chest had stopped moving, as though he held his breath. Dread swept through her.
She resisted a crazy urge to take back her lie. Surely it was her imagination, but she suddenly experienced a hot, dangerous energy that seemed to flow off his tall, still form in waves. He turned around slowly.
She flinched when she saw how furious he was.
“Say that again,” he commanded, his deep voice deceptively soft.
Uncertainty hung around her like a toxic fog, but she fought against it. Yeah, this was hard. Humiliating, even, to be revealing such hidden fantasies, to Z Beckett, no less. But somehow, she didn’t think it was wrong.
Her spine straightened. Her chin went up.
“You heard me right. I put up a profile on the Internet sites, Biker HookUp and Dominant Play.”
Her lungs burned when he didn’t immediately reply.
“I don’t believe you,” he said starkly after a moment. He walked past her toward his desk and sat down so heavily, the chair squeaked in loud protest at the abrupt weight of a hundred and ninety pounds of pure, dense muscle. She watched, open-mouthed, as he opened up a folder and began perusing a form. It couldn’t have been clearer that she’d been summarily dismissed as a liar.
Which she was, but that wasn’t the point.
His rejection infuriated her, given how vulnerable she’d felt confessing the essence of her secret desires, even if the overt words were a lie.
It’s time to do a little bluffing.
She came up next to him and grabbed his laptop off the desk.
“What’s your password?” she asked, deadpan.
“What are you doing?” He reached for his laptop, but she turned away. His hand brushed against her arm, instead.
“Proving to you that what I said was true,” she said, sitting down in the chair in front of his desk. She looked up at him levelly. “What’s your password, Beckett?”
His jaw muscles clenched even tighter. The goatee he sported really did lend him the air of the devil. A furious, sexy, outrageously attractive devil.
But a devil nonetheless.
“You do realize that those two Internet sites are used by the foulest, scummiest sons-of-bitches on the planet. The only reason they put up profiles is to prey on sad, confused, ignorant women.”
“How do you know? Have you ever used them?”
“No,” he exploded, standing behind his desk. His chair banged loudly against the wall behind him. He started toward her, hesitated, and pulled himself up short. He pointed at the computer in her lap accusingly. “Damn it, Ursa, if I find out that you’re not bluffing about this—”
“What? What will you do?” she challenged.
“You don’t have any idea, do you? Disgusting, dangerous scumbags use those sites…men who treat women like shit, and stalk women who love being treated like shit.” He looked wildly around the room. “Is that what you want, Ursa? Don’t tell me…please don’t tell me you ever hooked up with one of those assholes.”
She didn’t respond at first, her attention completely held hostage by the display of raw emotion on his face. Z was usually so cool and in control.
“Ursa?”
His shout made her jump. She rushed to gather herself.
“I don’t think what you say is true,” she said. “Not every biker dude, or guy who wants to be dominant in the bedroom, is a scumbag. And no, I haven’t found anyone who really meets the requirements of what I’m looking for yet. In fact, I only put up my profiles recently. I haven’t had time to find a good fit yet.”
He exhaled in relief.
; “But that doesn’t mean I won’t. Are you going to give me your password, or not?”
He strode around the desk so quickly, she didn’t have time to prepare for it. How could such a big man move so swiftly? He jerked his computer out of her hands and went around his desk again.
“You’re like a little lamb looking for a BFF in the slaughterhouse,” he fumed. “Does your mother, or Esme, or Sadie have any idea you’ve been taking part in this idiocy? Because that’s what this is, Ursa. God dammit, what would your dad have said?” he asked, pointing at his computer accusingly. “If what you’re saying is true, you’ve completely lost your mind.”
“I slept with you. If that made me want to be honest about my desires, if it made me want to live my life more in line with what I feel on the inside, then so be it. I’ve lost my mind.”
He looked so surprised and outraged by her declaration that he once again appeared apoplectic.
“Are you really accusing me of this lunacy? My God, you’ve got fucking nerve baby girl.”
He started around the desk again, eyes blazing. Despite all her self-lectures to remain calm, Ursa found herself springing up from the chair and backing toward the door.
“I’m not blaming it on you in a bad way, Z. I think it’s good, that I’m trying to be honest about myself finally,” she hastily explained. He continued to bear down on her, furious and focused. She let out a little yelp when she tripped on the edge of an area carpet and stumbled. Z caught her at the shoulders in a firm, unrelenting grip. He gave her a little shake.
“I want you to listen to me. I want you to leave this place right now. I want you to take down those damn Internet profiles within the hour. Do it on your phone, or go to the local library if you have to and find a computer.” He shook her again. “But you do it, Ursa. Tonight at eight o’clock, I’m going to check those sites. And if I see your profile on them, I swear to God I’ll find you wherever you are. I’ll tear up Columbia, or Reno, or Tahoe Shores. Whatever it takes. I’ll find you, and I’ll turn you over my knee. I don’t care if you’re in your office, or with your mom, or sitting in church, I’ll turn your ass red.”
She stared up at him, astounded by his words. It hadn’t been an idle threat. He’d meant every word of what he’d said, she could tell just by looking at him.
She’d made a huge mistake, lying so outrageously, prodding him like a fool poking at a hornet’s nest. Z Beckett was always a force to be reckoned with, but she hadn’t realized he could turn into a hurricane and a firestorm at once. He tightened his hold on her and pulled her toward him. She could feel his heat and his fury pouring off his body.
“Are you listening to me?”
She nodded.
“Then get out of here,” he said, releasing her. He bared white, even teeth. “Now, damn it.”
“But—”
“Remember what I said. Eight o’clock.”
She walked backwards several steps, snared by his furious stare, before she finally turned and fumbled with the doorknob.
Her legs were shaking by the time she reached the bar.
“Sit down, honey.”
She blinked and stared at the face of the sexy female bartender. The older woman looked downright concerned.
“Go on, sit down. You look like all the blood’s been drained out of you. What did Z do to you?”
“Nothing,” Ursa muttered blankly. She didn’t really tell herself to sit down on one of the empty barstools. She just found herself slumped on one of them.
“He looked mad enough to eat one of his bikes when he hauled you back there,” the bartender said, filling a glass with ice and water. She set down the glass in front of Ursa. “Go ahead, drink up,” she encouraged when Ursa just stared blankly at the beverage.
Ursa picked up the glass. She drank all the water, not realizing until she set the glass on the bar that she’d been parched.
Maybe it’d been Z’s hot wrath that had dehydrated her.
“He didn’t threaten you, did he?” the bartender asked uneasily. “He didn’t… bully you or anything?”
Ursa blinked in surprise at the question.
“Bully? You don’t know Z very well, do you?”
The woman shrugged. “I was the bartender for the previous owner. So I’ve only known Z since he hired me a couple weeks ago. I’ve seen some of his bikes, and they’re fantastic. But for the most part, he keeps to himself. I had the impression he was a good, decent guy. Until this afternoon—”
“Z is the best. Hard working. Talented as all get out. Loyal. Funny. He may be a little reserved until he gets to know you better, but you don’t have to worry about his character. It’s just…we have a long history, that’s all. I uh…I said something that upset him,” Ursa explained, flushing when she vividly recalled what had just transpired in Z’s office. Yes, Z had threatened her in a way. He’d said he’d spank her if she didn’t do what he wanted.
But his threat hadn’t struck her as dangerous. It’d sounded outrageous. Infuriating.
Very exciting.
But not dangerous.
“How long have you known him?” the bartender asked her. She looked a little more relaxed now that Ursa had reassured her about the character of her boss.
Ursa gave a wistful bark of laughter. “I guess since the first few seconds of my life. He was there when I was born. Z was ten years old, and he snuck up to my parents’ bedroom while my mom was in labor.” She noticed the bartender’s surprised expression. “It’s a long story, involving my sister wanting to make a pet out of a baby cub, and the cub’s mother not being too pleased about it. Mama Bear kept everyone hostages in our house, and that’s when I decided I wanted to be born.”
She sighed, realizing that her heart rate had slowed some after her volatile encounter with Z.
“What’s your name?” she asked the woman.
“Erica. Erica Taz,” the bartender said, reaching across the bar to shake her hand.
“Ursa Esterbrook,” Ursa repeated in case Erica didn’t remember her saying it earlier.
“Are you and Z… ” Erica circled her hand in a significant gesture. “An item or something?”
“I wish.”
Ursa blinked, genuinely shocked by her own blast of honesty. Her confrontation with Z had really rattled some serious truths loose inside her.
Erica smiled. “Pardon me for saying so, but you don’t really look like his type.”
Ursa suppressed a frown at that. But Erica was just stating the obvious.
“You sort of do,” Ursa mumbled, trying mightily to quiet her upsurge of resentment.
“Excuse me?”
“Look like his type.” Ursa leveled a stare at the other woman. “You and he haven’t hooked up or anything, have you?”
Erica just stared at her blankly for a few seconds. Then she laughed.
“I’m gay,” she said. “I’ve been a serious relationship for four years now. Her name is Janine. She runs a couple boutiques in downtown Columbia.”
“Oh.” Too late, Ursa realized she was smiling widely in relief. She saw Erica’s slightly incredulous expression. “I’m sorry. It’s just that you’re so pretty, and I love the way you dress and everything. You really do look just like the type Z would go for.”
“Z knew very well I was off limits in that department. I suspect that’s why he had no issues with hiring me back as bartender. I got the distinct impression he didn’t want any complications in the romance arena at work,” Erica said wryly as she polished a highball glass with a white towel. She gave Ursa a speculative glance. “So you think you know what kind of woman Z Beckett likes?”
Ursa sighed dispiritedly. “Sure. I’ve seen firsthand the kind of girl he’s dated since he was fourteen or fifteen years old. He always goes for the ballsy, sexy, independent ones. That’s why I thought maybe you and he… ”
> “Thanks,” Erica said when she trailed off. She picked up Ursa’s empty glass and refilled it before setting it down in front of her again. “You don’t think you’re the ballsy, sexy, independent type?”
Ursa’s laugh rang out across the bar.
“Me? No way. Look at me. I’m the sickly little girl from next door. Z saw me run around in diapers,” she said, unable to keep the resentment out of her voice this time.
“Oh,” Erica said, drawing out the single syllable, as if understanding had just hit. Ursa sat up straighter.
“What?”
“You see yourself—at least partially—like you think Z Beckett sees you.”
“That’s not true, I know I’m not that innocent little girl he imagines. He just refuses to see me for who I am because—”
She stopped midsentence, realization hitting her.
For so much of her life, she’d been short on physical energy and long on caution. It’d been drilled into her since she could remember to play it safe. So many people had been chronically concerned about her because of her illness. She’d learned from a young age that in order to give back to the people she loved, she needed to be as attentive towards their needs as they were toward her, to listen instead of talk.
But now, she was quite healthy, thank you for much. She had the resources to grow a little, to voice what she wanted and needed.
“You’re right, I guess. Part of me still does identify with being that innocent girl. The fragile one. The girl that always made the boring, safe choices. The one who counted herself lucky to get the tiniest morsels of attention from the boy next door.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a little innocence, honey,” Erica said. “And never let it be said that safety and modesty aren’t virtues some of the time. Most of the time, actually. Still…I hear you saying you’re ready to step out of your comfort zone, at least in this situation. Can I offer you a little unsolicited advice?”
“Sure. Please do.”
Wild, Wounded Hearts Page 6
