Falco: The Dark Guardian, page 11
“You have complaints about how I’ve been doing that?”
“Yes, I have. You seem to have forgotten your place.”
God, where had those horrible words come from? She saw Falco’s eyes cloud with rage. She wanted to call back what she’d said, not because she feared him but because it was a lie. She never, ever thought that way about people and she wasn’t going to start now, especially with someone like Falco, an honorable, decent man whose only crime was—
Whose only crime was that he had somehow turned her world upside down.
“I’ve forgotten my place,” he said, repeating her words in a low, dangerous voice.
“No,” she said quickly, “that isn’t what I meant!”
It was too late. He flung her hand from him, opened the door and got out of the car. She scrambled out, too.
“Falco! Please. I didn’t mean—”
“Yeah. You did.” He swung toward her. She stumbled back. “And you’re right. I did forget my place.”
“No. I swear, I didn’t—”
“Get in the house.”
“Falco—”
“I’m going to take a look around.”
“What for? We already—”
“It’s part of what I have to do to protect you.” He reached inside the car, rifled through the bags until he found the one from Starbucks. “You’re one hundred percent correct, Ms. Bissette. That’s why I’m here.”
Elle shook her head. “Listen to me. Please.”
“Don’t worry about getting the rest of the stuff inside. It’s probably within my job description to haul in the groceries, but I’ll get your things inside, too, even though some might call that fetching and carrying. But I’ll oblige and do it—if you approve, of course. I mean, consider this a consultation.”
“You’re twisting everything I said!”
“Yes or no? You want me to deal with this stuff or not?”
Shaking with anger, she glared at him over the roof of the Ferrari. “A decent man would accept an apology.”
His smile was quick and cold. “But I’m not a decent man. Isn’t that pretty much what you just told me?”
“You can go straight to hell!”
“Sounds like a plan,” he said, and he turned his back and walked away.
It took her three trips to get the all the things they’d bought into the house, including the groceries, but leaving them for Falco was not an option.
She didn’t need anything from him, didn’t want anything from him, not even his services as a bodyguard. She’d been doing just fine, handling things on her own.
And she’d handle things on her own, again.
Letting the all-knowing Mr. Orsini into her life had been a mistake, one she’d remedy right away. First thing in the morning, she’d call the airport, call for a taxi, get out of here so fast it would make his head spin. She’d have done it now but she wasn’t even sure what time it was.
All she knew was that she needed a bath and a meal and a solid night’s rest.
Choosing a bedroom was easy. She took the first one she came to, dumped the bags that held the things she’d purchased on the bed and locked the door behind her.
Falco Orsini was an infuriating, heartless bully. Her temper outburst was his fault. Kissing her, then trying to blame the incident on her…
Elle stalked into the attached marble bathroom, flicked on the light and turned on the hot water tap in the deep soaking tub.
Wait. She’d forgotten something. She hurried into the bedroom, emptied the contents of her purse on the bed. There it was. The silver frame that held the picture of her and Mama. Tears burned behind her eyes as put her index finger to her lips, then to the picture. She gazed at it for a while. Then she took a deep breath, found the toothbrush and toothpaste she’d bought and returned to the bathroom.
She sniffed at little packets and bottles of oils and bath salts, chose an oil called Tranquility and a matching bar of elegantly wrapped soap. Elle brushed her teeth, stripped off her clothes, made a face and stuffed the clothes into a wicker basket.
The bath was steaming and fragrant. She climbed into the tub, moaned with pleasure and lay back.
Falco Orsini was impossible. He was not a knight in shining armor; he was a man like all other men. That she’d let that slip her mind, even briefly, proved how exhausted she was. The mutilated picture, the note, the mess at the cabin and the condo… All of that had worked against her, had made her vulnerable to letting a man make decisions for her.
And what would you have done if he hadn’t made the decisions? If he hadn’t followed you to the cabin, or hadn’t refused to let you return to your place that night?
Elle gave herself a mental shake. She’d have done what had to be done, that’s what. She didn’t need the high-and-mighty Mr. Orsini, the police or anyone else. And she’d make that clear tomorrow. Not that Mr. Orsini needed or deserved an explanation. She was taking her life back in her own hands and that was her choice, not his.
She sank lower in the tub. The bath was wonderful. Absolutely wonderful, she thought, closing her eyes as the water lapped against her breasts. Its touch was gentle. Soothing. How would Falco’s hands feel against them, instead? His palms cupping their weight. His thumbs moving over her nipples. Lightly. Gently. Then harder as he bent his head to her, pressed his lips to her throat.
Her breasts tingled. A heaviness made its slow way from them to a place low in her belly.
His hands would make their way there, too.
Elle’s thighs fell open. The scented water brushed against her flesh. She could feel a pulse beating deep inside her. Beating. Throbbing. Her hand drifted over her belly. Falco’s hand would follow that same path and then his mouth. He would stroke her. Part her. Touch her…
She shot upright in the water, heart racing, mind whirling, bile rising in her throat as she shoved the ugly images away. Not just ugly. Horrible. Painful. She knew that, she’d known it forever.
Quickly, she pulled the drain plug and traded the tub for the shower stall, where she scrubbed her skin until it was reddened, washed her hair and made quick work of it.
To hell with the shampoo and conditioner she’d bought. All she wanted now was to get dressed.
The clothes she’d bought lay on the bed. The clothes Falco had bought. He’d used his credit card as if the shopping trip was his to control.
Control was what he was all about. What men were all about. Whatever security company he worked for would, she knew, pick up the tab, but to hell with that. Before she left tomorrow, she’d write him a check for the chartered flight, the house, the shopping trip…
How could an hour in a faceless store have been so much fun?
“What kind of cereal do you like?” she’d said, and he’d answered by plucking a box of sugar-sweetened junk from the shelf. “Yuck,” she’d said, grabbing it and putting it back, laughing at the way he’d groaned when she added a box of unsweetened granola to the cart instead, laughing just before he’d kissed her, before he’d made her heart almost stop with that sweet, sweet kiss….
“Stop it,” Elle said firmly.
Hell. She’d forgotten to buy pj’s. No matter. She dressed quickly: underwear, T-shirt, white jeans, everything clean and fresh against her skin. She’d caught Falco biting back a smile at her choice of underthings. It had made her blush. Would he smile if he saw her wearing them? Not that he ever would but…
Her breath caught. “Stop it,” she said again, her voice sharp and a little raw.
Her thoughts were wandering across a wild landscape that had nothing to do with reality. She was tired, was the problem.
And hungry.
Her belly gave a monumental growl.
Breakfast seemed a lifetime ago. There was lots of food in the kitchen. They’d bought cheese and ham, and peanut butter and jelly because Falco had said—with a straight face—that PB and J on white bread was a staple of life.
Elle eased the door open.
The house was silent. Falco’s plans had probably mirrored hers. A hot shower, then a nap. She could picture him now, that long, leanly muscled body sprawled naked across the bed.
A frisson of heat shimmered through her body.
Enough. She needed a meal and then some sleep. No. Not a meal. A sandwich would be quicker. She could be out of the kitchen before Falco so much as stirred.
She moved down the hall quickly, silent on bare feet. The kitchen was just a couple of feet away….
Damn, damn, damn!
Falco had beaten her to it. Shirtless, barefoot, wearing only jeans, his dark hair damp and glittering with drops of water, he stood with his back to her at a long granite counter. The loaf of white bread was beside him, the opened jars of peanut butter and jelly next to it. From his motions, she figured he was making a sandwich.
She watched, transfixed, as the muscles in his shoulders and triceps flexed. Her eyes swept downward. He had a powerful-looking back, a narrow waist. His jeans were low on his hips. Was the top button undone? Was that why they hung that way?
And what did it matter?
Why this sudden dryness in her mouth? The equally sudden leap of her heart? Elle took a quick step back.
“Want one?” he said casually.
Falco had sensed her presence and asked the question without turning around. A peace offering? Well, why not. They had hours to get through before she could leave, Elle reminded herself, and she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue.
“I, ah, I… Yes, thanks. I’d love a sandwich.”
He motioned toward one of the counter stools to his left. She shook her head, even though she knew he couldn’t see her.
“There must be something I can do to help.”
“You can pour us some milk. I’m not usually a milk kind of guy but when it comes to PB and J…”
“The drink of choice. I know.”
Elle searched for tall glasses, found them, poured the milk. She put the glasses on the counter, added napkins and silverware and plates.
There was nothing left to do except sit down and watch him put the finishing touches on the sandwiches.
“Kind of like being at one of those sushi restaurants,” he said. “You know, where you sit at the counter and get to watch guys wielding knives like homicidal jugglers.”
She laughed. “I’m always surprised they end their shifts with five fingers still on each hand.”
Falco turned toward her, reaching for the plates. The breath caught in her throat. She’d guessed right. Yes, button at the waistband of his jeans was undone. And, yes, the faded denim hung precariously low on his hips. And yes, oh, yes, he was a magnificent sight, all those sculpted muscles in his shoulders and arms, the cut abs, the dark whorl of hair on his chest that arrowed down and disappeared under the waistband of the jeans…
“What I think,” he said, “is that I owe you an apology.”
Elle’s gaze flew to his. “It was my fault,” she said quickly. “I don’t know what made me say such an awful thing.”
He nodded, his eyes on hers.
“We were both quick on the trigger. And some of what you said was right. I have made a lot of decisions without checking with you first. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“You made necessary decisions. I know that. It’s just that—”
“You’re accustomed to making your own decisions.”
“Yes.”
“Sure. I understand.” He hesitated. “And about that kiss…”
She felt her face heat. “Really, there’s no need to—”
“I was the one who initiated it. I’ve initiated every move I’ve made on you, baby, but they weren’t ‘moves,’ not the way you think. I…hell, I never get involved with the people I’m helping, never step over the boundaries.” He snorted and ran a hand through his hair. “There I go again. Calling you ‘baby’ when you’ve specifically asked me—”
“Don’t stop.”
His eyes met hers. “What?”
“I said—I said, don’t stop calling me ‘baby.’” By now, she knew her face was blazing. “I—I like it. The way you say it. As if—as if it means something to you.”
His eyes turned black. “You mean something to me,” he said in a low voice.
“You don’t have to say—”
He came toward her, put a finger gently over her still-parted lips. His skin was warm; all she had to do was ease the very tip of her tongue between her lips and she could taste him.
“That’s one of my flaws,” he said. “I tend to say the things I mean. And I mean that, Elle. You—you’ve become important to me.”
She sighed. Her breath was warm against his finger. A shudder went through him as he slid his hand into her hair.
“I want to kiss you,” he said roughly. “Hell, I’m going to kiss you. And if that isn’t what you want—”
Elle made a little sound, leaned forward and brought her mouth to Falco’s. He didn’t move, not for a long minute. Then he groaned, wrapped his arms around her and lifted her from the stool. Her arms went around his neck; her legs closed around his hips and he kissed her again, the kiss deepening and deepening until she was moaning into his mouth.
“Elle.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “Honey, I want to make love with you.”
“I know.”
He gave a gruff laugh. Of course, she knew. His erection was enormous and her pelvis was pressed hard against it.
“Tell me it’s what you want, too.”
He could feel her heart, racing like a tiny bird’s against his. She was trembling, breathing fast. He drew her even closer.
“Baby. What is it? Are you afraid of me?”
“No,” she said quickly. “Never of you.”
“What, then? The—” He hesitated. “The ‘sex thing’? Have you had a bad experience? Because if you have—”
“It’s—it’s something like that.”
Who had done this to her? How? What had some bastard done to this beautiful, intelligent, amazing woman? His arms tightened around her.
“I’ve never—I’ve never wanted to be with a man before. I can hardly believe it’s what I want now. At least—at least, I think it’s what I want. But if it’s not… I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”
“You could never disappoint me,” he said fiercely. “If it’s not what you want, we’ll stop.” And I’ll die, he thought, but he’d do that rather than do anything to hurt this woman.
She gave a watery laugh. “Men don’t stop.”
Falco fought to control his fury.
“I am me, honey. Falco Orsini. I am not ‘men.’ I’d never do anything to hurt you, Elle. I swear it, with all my heart.”
She drew back a little and looked at him.
“Just what a guy wants, I’m sure,” she said, with a sad attempt at a smile. “To talk a moment like this straight into the ground.”
“What this guy wants is to hold you. To kiss you. To sleep with you in my arms. And maybe that’s all we should even consider tonight.” He gave a little laugh. “Assuming it is night,” he said. “I seem to have lost track of time.”
Elle stared at him. “Do you think you could really do that?”
What he thought was that by morning he might be dead from the aching need to make love to her, but if being held in his arms was all she wanted, that was all that would happen.
“Remember what you said,” she told him solemnly, “about only saying what you really mean.”
Falco sighed. “I want to make love to you, baby. To change whatever it is you think you know about sex. If that’s not what you want, I’ll just hold you while we sleep.” He paused. “Or you can trust what I said. About making love and stopping if you want to stop.” He smiled. “Your decision to make, Ms. Bissette.”
A day ago, an hour ago, she might have said no man could manage sleeping with a woman without sex, but if Falco said he could do it, she believed him. If he said he could stop—stop doing the things men did if she asked him to stop doing them—she believed that, too.
So—so maybe she could let him kiss her. Caress her. And he’d stop when she told him to stop. Because she would tell him to stop. Absolutely, she would.
“Elle?” He cleared his throat. “There’s a third option, honey. I’ll let go of you, we go to our separate rooms—”
Elle leaned forward and stopped his words with a kiss.
“Take me to bed, Falco,” she whispered. “Please. Take me to bed and make love to me.”
CHAPTER TEN
ELLE’S WHISPERED words raced through Falco’s blood like a fast-moving drug.
If someone had asked, he’d have said he knew all the sexy things a woman could whisper to a man.
Wrong.
Elle’s simple words were the most erotic he’d ever heard.
His answer was in his kiss as he carried her through the silent house, not to the bedroom he’d chosen only because it had been the nearest at hand, but past it, to the master suite. Its walls were almost entirely glass, open on one side to the sea and on the other to the cascade of water that tumbled into the atrium pool.
The bed, a four-poster, hung in sheer white lace, dominated the room.
He imagined taking her to it, laying her on it, baring her to his eyes, his hands, his mouth.
But he didn’t.
Elle’s lips trembled beneath his. Her heart raced against his palm. She wanted him but she was frightened.
Falco was determined to replace that fear with joy even if it took every bit of self-control he possessed.
He kissed her again. Then, slowly, he put her on her feet. She made a little sound when her breasts brushed his bare chest, caught her breath when the heavy thrust of his erection pressed against her belly. When she would have stepped back, he gathered her in his arms, kept her close.
“That’s just my body telling yours how much I want you.” His voice was low and rough but the hand he put under her chin was gentle. “Don’t be afraid, baby. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
He kissed her, soft kisses that belied the hunger inside him until finally he felt her lips soften and cling to his. He took the kiss deeper little by little, touching the tip of his tongue to the tender inside flesh of her bottom lip. He knew he had to go slowly, that everything that came next hinged on it.
