Holding Fast, page 9
“Oh, like how they hold themselves?”
“Yeah, like that. Jones is the computer guy on the team.”
“Oh, he’s the one that bugged my house! If I’d known that…”
“I’m sure he’s happy you didn’t know, but it’s—”
“Stop saying ‘necessary’. I’m not a hundred percent certain I’ve not walked out in my, well, not dressed. It’s my house. It’s a violation.”
He let her storm at him, too caught off-guard by her again to think of anything to say. The idea she’d walked out of her bedroom not dressed had his mind reeling and his temper rising. Surely those dumb ass dirt kickers would have said if they’d spotted her without clothes.
“They’re lucky I’m not the type to walk around nude or parading all around my house in my undies. I might have to sue them. Can I do that?”
He shook his head, which seemed to irritate her.
“I’m so not surprised. Still, I wish I could bug their homes and see how they like it,” she muttered. Again, so cute he wanted to grin.
“They were trying to not panic you, at the same time, protect you. I’m impressed they didn’t bug your bathroom. That’s being gentlemanly of them because I would have. Bathroom, bedroom, every inch.” She stared at him for a long silent moment until he grew a bit uncomfortable. “It would have made me certain you were safe.”
“And been creepy, like peeping tom creepy.”
He shrugged. “Privacy or safety.”
“Why do I have to choose? That makes no sense. Please don’t tell me you’re one of those Republicans? Who think in simplistic terms on subjects that are too complex for sound bites.”
He smiled and shook his head. “I’m retired Special Forces. What do you think that makes me? A liberal?”
“A—well, smart, I guess that’s what that makes you. Smart enough to know the world and the people in it don’t fit under little labels.”
“I bet your mother was a Republican and controlling.”
She opened her mouth, shut it, then muttered, “We don’t have Republicans in Canada.”
“Well, the equivalent.”
“I’m nothing like her.”
“I can believe that, but I still bet she was controlling, demanding and never spent a care on anyone other than herself.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I think the most decent people in the world either come from a screwed-up family life, or one so normal it goes without saying that you do the right thing, so they don’t talk about it. They assume everyone else does the same.”
She frowned but gave him an impressed, not angry look. Topics like this had a way of blowing up in his face, but she laughed softly and smiled over at him.
“Interesting theory. I bet you’re from the latter. You grew up in a normal family with no issues, or problems, just average days and decent well-meaning parents.”
“My brother’s a bit of a nutcase, but the rest of us are pretty boring.”
“Boring is good.”
He smiled and relaxed. Somehow, talking with her was a rollercoaster of uncertainty, but every time he said what he thought, it seemed to be the right decision. Hell, I’ve been feeding lines all my life to women. At least it feels like it, compared to having a normal talk with Sara. It’s like talking to a friend, but with no macho bullshit men always have as a fall back.
* * * *
The next morning, Sara wasn’t ready to face William. He had a way of keeping her off-balance. The car. Why the car? Heck, why the toes curling comment and huge erection?
“I think before we leave today, we’re going to have to practice how you react when I kiss you.”
She blinked, gripped the door handle digging into her hip and tried not to collapse at the burst of adrenaline-laced lust. Oh, God. Kiss him.
Now she was certain she wasn’t ready for him.
“Uh, I don’t think we need to practice.”
After returning to the house, William had been quiet, helpful and polite. Not a whisper was said about how hard he’d been pressed up to her or how he’d wanted to make her toes curl. Instead, he’d helped her to arrange the living room. He’d also found a few spots she’d missed on the trim. He’d painted them like an expert, cleaned up the brushes and put them down in the basement as if he knew everything about her house. She’d tried to fold laundry and ignore him.
Last night, he’d slept on the floor as promised. She’d moved her under-the-bed storage around when he’d been out, checking the perimeter again. Surprisingly, she’d slept very well. Of course, she’d made a nice bed for him on the floor, and even offered her bed, not herself, to him. He’d demurred with an easy smile, as if now that they were on easier terms, he wasn’t going to blow it with a too-hard push.
Oh, the attraction was there, simmering in his eyes, but he left it unspoken. She had a feeling it had waited long enough.
Now, it appeared, was that time.
She stared at him now, at his half smile, and the arrogant tilt to his chin. There was no controlling the rush of excitement tingling through her body. She felt half-aroused—maybe more—around him all morning. All night, too. She’d rewound and fast-forwarded to the part where he’d held her trapped to the spare room wall and added all kinds of different endings to that encounter.
“Practice might be negotiable, but remember, this has to look real.” He walked toward her while he spoke, so by the time he ended quietly, he was in her bubble of space. Butt to the door, she had nowhere to go. Worse, she didn’t know if she wanted to go anywhere. “The men are watching. Let’s see if we can’t make them jealous.”
“Oh, God.” She let him wrap his arm around her waist and bring her right up against his hard body. A sigh escaped that she had no control over. He was so warm and she’d been cold, for so long. “We shouldn’t. I think we really shouldn’t.”
She tried to ignore how perfect he smelled, felt and no doubt tasted, but her denial was weak even to her own ears.
He didn’t pressure her. But she could read the intensity in his eyes. Here was something dangerous. Not as deadly as Ashton, but in his own way, as threatening. The passion simmering between them warned her, even the weakness in her limbs and the out-of-breath sensation she’d forgotten came with lust, shouted at her to be cautious. All of it was one blinking red light. But even as her instincts screamed this was not a good idea, she dropped her gaze to his lips and relaxed in his embrace. Better than the fantasies. It’s going to be so much better.
“Okay. Maybe one, to see, you know, if I can pretend.”
“What makes you think we’ll be pretending?” That was the only clue he gave her as he dipped his head and meshed her lips to his as if they were made for him.
She’d kissed a few men in her life. William stole her breath along with something else she feared she’d never recover. It was one brief display of passion, but no movie had ever depicted the devastation such a caress could cause.
She met his dark eyes, feeling as if her entire world had been turned upside down. Gone was the warrior here to keep her safe. In William’s intense gaze she saw the promise of such hot, long sex she might not survive. Not just sex either, something else she couldn’t understand from a man who had barged into her life only days before.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” He flickered his hot gaze over her face and lips. It felt as if he wanted to devour her again. Instead he cradled her closer. He held her as if she might break. It was so unexpected, she collapsed against him, so weak she clung to him. “No pretending necessary.” His voice was deeper, but it had been so long, so very, very long since anyone had wrapped their arms around her. And William didn’t hold her, he held his breath. After a second, she realized why.
Between them, the hard, impossibly large proof of how much he didn’t have to pretend heated her stomach. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he could make every fantasy she ever dreamed up a reality—not after a kiss like that. She shivered. Lust tingled along every inch of her skin.
Their gazes met, hers was shocked no doubt, his appeared assessing but he wasn’t going to back down. If anything, he seemed to read the heat bubbling up from her toes. But there was more, too.
As if someone had lifted a hood from her head, she saw him—really saw him. He wasn’t playing her. Gone was the Don Juan who was going to talk his way into her bed. In his place was a man who wasn’t going to hide that he wanted her. A man who might not promise her the moon—she hoped not yet—because he was right, they couldn’t discover where the end would lead until they started. Out of the men she’d dated, she suddenly hoped he was for real. Don’t play me. Please, don’t play me. She calmed the panic with a reminder that he was willing to protect her, possibly catch an insane serial killer in the process to make it a reality. For me.
“We’re going to be living here or somewhere else together until we catch this bastard.” He watched her face with the knowledge she wasn’t immune to him in his eyes.
She couldn’t move. And she certainly couldn’t speak. She knew how to measure. She also knew William was way off the six to seven inches most men achieved when erect. It wasn’t the length that stunned her, it was the girth and…solidness of his erection—something he concealed beneath his casual clothes and calm expression.
If she hadn’t been pressed close, she never would have guessed by his demeanor he was aroused. Oh, his eyes were bright, hot with it, now that she knew what to look for. But if she’d felt his arousal, she never would have known he was hiding a hard-on that had to be stunning.
The thought caused such a rush of excitement she clenched her thighs to soothe the building ache.
“How much more we do is up to you, but I don’t think you’re ever going to get enough. This is natural. It’s what happens when a man and a woman are attracted to each other.”
That didn’t sound very romantic, but it was truthful. But…dodgy. The excitement dimmed to a degree where she could think again.
“Believe me, if I have my way, you’ll be demanding I give you more.” He spoke in a whisper, for her ears alone, she knew, but the certainty in his tone was clear. It was also crystal clear to her that he was right.
She wasn’t going to get enough of him. He’s going to play me. But I know how to play the game.
Chapter Fourteen
Driving with a raging hard-on was not Will’s idea of a good time. Not when the cause of his painful condition was sitting near him smelling like a field of fresh spring flowers. She confused him so badly he wasn’t sure what it was about her that bothered him the most.
He couldn’t recall a conversation, a meal, a moment in exact detail with another woman the way he could remember the bit of cold winter air filling his lungs and how bright blue the sky had looked on that day when she’d hit his world and knocked him off center.
He thought she was scared. Possibly of him more than Potter.
If that were true, then he shouldn’t be sporting the hardest erection in his life. He should be protecting her. There were questions in her eyes over him. His goal should be to reassure her, but he couldn’t reassure himself, let alone her. It was as if his body had waited too long, wanted this woman too deeply, to back down now. Her need for more, for a relationship, not the hard, driving, hours-long sex he had to have only made him want to show her how all of that didn’t matter. Sex. That’s what mattered. Her any way he could get her. He never pushed himself on a woman who didn’t want him. So, why can’t I stop trying to seduce this one?
He tightened his fingers around the wheel and tried to get a grip on his libido. She was comfortably looking out of the window. If I tell her about how the drug affects me she might never want to explore anything with me. He eased back on his grip. He couldn’t explain the Sentinel program to her. Not yet. Enjoy the time, the here and now.
She wore cute, casual clothes, not cut-off sexy jean shorts that revealed the lush curves of her butt like he’d half-hoped. But he’d never wanted to unzip a sweatshirt as badly as he’d wanted to unzip hers. It was spring in Florida, but she’d dressed in cargos, a long sleeve T-shirt and a sweatshirt. She looked like one of his buddy’s younger sisters—innocent and fresh from the farm. Hell, she’d even put her auburn hair up into a high ponytail with the front twisted and pinned back out of her eyes. Her nails were short, clean and neat, but not painted in some erotic shade of black meant to drive a man nuts thinking of her stroking him. They were a very light shade of pink.
“Where will we go?” she asked, breaking into his thoughts with the softly spoken question.
Her voice was meant for bedrooms. It was naturally rough and it wasn’t a stretch for him to imagine it being even more so after hours in bed. He wasn’t a man used to fantasizing so often—but since the Sentinel program he’d had to use his hand to relieve the packed tension. After Wyoming, those fantasy women had all possessed long, silky auburn hair and wide set, sky-blue eyes.
“We’re going to meet them outside of town. There’s a steak house, pretty far from everything. We’ll talk there.”
At his response, she stared out of the window again, still holding her leather purse on her lap, but not too tightly. But the posture reminded him of Wyoming, and regrets burned alongside the anger.
“I should have asked you in Wyoming what happened.”
The words left his mouth before he was even aware he was going to say something. She flinched ever so slightly, but since he was more aware of her than anyone else he’d ever encountered he noticed.
“I wouldn’t have said anything. I thought I was imagining things, you know, at first…”
“What do you mean?” he asked, too sharply he realized when she frowned and focused back to her examination of the Florida highway.
His anger simmered higher.
What did the bastard do to her?
He’d waited long enough to find out. If fear was all in the mind and could be controlled, so could the dull anger building as his imagination filled in what Potter had done to her. He needed to stem the anger with facts, not horrific images his head painted.
“Did he touch you in Wyoming? Is that why you were running back in that day? Did he rape you?” He sounded harsh, he knew, but he couldn’t take back his words now.
“No, no,” she stammered.
“You don’t have to lie. It won’t change a damn thing, I promise. I need to know. I think you need to tell someone. Maybe then you can begin rebuilding your life.”
She shook her head. “He didn’t. He, I mean, I saw him, but it was in town, and…he was with a girl. He… I was getting dinner to go, you know, at the hotel?”
She didn’t glance at him or pause long enough for him to confirm he knew what she was talking about. It was as if she was filled with enough nervous energy to get this out once, and only once. He’d have to relay the story to Carson. No way was he forcing her to go through this twice.
“He was with a girl, you see, and when he saw me, it was like the other girl disappeared, even though she was right there. I could tell something was off, even then. I could see it in his eyes, the way he looked at me, that there was something wrong with him. The girl was…off, too. I thought maybe drugs, maybe those drugs. He came up to me when I was waiting. He moved so silently, it was like he appeared out of nowhere. The girl was gone too. I remembered thinking how creepy he was, and how I wished I could talk to the girl and find out if she was okay. Then he was there, right next to me, so close we almost touched.”
“What did he do to you?”
She flinched as if he’d yelled. Feeling like an asshole, he took her hand, and managed to pull the truck over at the same time.
“I think telling me would be better now, right?” At her doubtful expression, he laughed, feeling the tension slowly ebb from his tight muscles. “You know, you might be the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met, but you’re also the most skeptical. You’ve been hurt. I get that. You’re scared. Believe me, I understand that, too. But I didn’t hurt you, and I sure the hell don’t scare you, do I?”
She shook her head somewhat tentatively and he exerted the tiniest bit of pressure on her cold fingers in encouragement and got a faint smile.
“Come on, I don’t, or you wouldn’t scold me for being such an ass.” He knew he was coming on hard. He’d struggled to keep his hands off her all day, then seduced a kiss out of her. Any other woman would have found that acceptable. Hell, he’d have been behind schedule with the seduction and probably pissing the woman off, but Sara was different. She was hurt, scared, and needed him to lean on.
“Trust me.” He brushed his knuckles along the ultra-soft skin of her cheek and over to her tiny ear. She had the sweetest, most delicate earlobes he’d ever seen.
She breathed in, held it, then let it out slowly. She repeated the breathing once more. Her breath smelled like peppermint, like the gum she’d given him earlier. “I trust you.”
“Good. Now, can you tell me the rest? Take your time, but I have a hunch you need to get this out—all of it.”
Another painful grimace tightened her features, but she stared down to where he’d cupped her cold hands between his. She threaded her fingers through his and took another deep, emotion-filled breath then let it out, nodding slowly as she did.
“He told me I was beautiful and bought me a drink.” Her voice sounded wooden, lacking any emotion at all. “I tried to refuse, but he scared me and I wasn’t going to drink anything he bought me, anyway, so I let him.” She shrugged and lifted a hand to her neck, playing with golden chain there. “I thought maybe the girl was in the bathroom and went there, before the drink even arrived. She wasn’t there, though.”
“When I came out of the bathroom, he was in the hallway. He surprised me. I couldn’t believe that a man his size was so strong. He was small you know?” Her gaze turned distant. He wondered if she was recalling whatever Potter had done to her. He stayed still and quiet, not willing to break into her silence. She focused back on her hands, wringing them so tightly that the skin turned white. “He’s slender…well, small, you know?” she repeated nervously.
