Convincing Alex (17 page)

Her fingers retreated from the pad, but with obvious reluctance. “I like hearing you talk about your work. I want you to be able to talk to me about anything.”

“Apparently I can. Even the stuff I don't want you to hear. I've
got a problem with you, Bess. You won't let me tuck you into that nice safe corner where I want you to be.”

“You only think that's where you want me to be.” Smiling, she tugged his hand around so that she could kiss it. “You like me right where I am.” Turning his hand over, she pressed her lips to his palm. “I'm going to stay there.”

She felt his fingers tense, then relax slowly as he spread them over her cheek. “I was watching you while you worked.”

A rippling thrill raced through her at the words and at the shimmer of desire she heard in them. “Were you?”

“And thinking.” His hands slid down over her breasts, sampled their weight, molded them. “Fantasizing.”

Her head fell back against the chair. Her breathing quickened. “About?”

“The things I'd like to do with you.” Through layers of silk, he caught her nipples, tugging gently. “To you.”

When she tried to shift in the chair to face him, he increased the pressure, held her still. Her dazzled eyes focused on the monitor. She could still see the ghost of herself there, and his hands moving. Sliding. Stroking.

Impossibly erotic to see, and to feel. Dry-mouthed, she watched his fingers undo her buttons and saw the dark shadow of his hair as he pressed a hot mouth to her throat. She lifted a hand, hooked it around his neck as she tilted her head to offer more.

“I can shut down in thirty seconds.”

He bit her lightly, just above the collarbone. “I'm not going to give you a chance to shut down.”

She laughed shakily, even as she lifted her other arm to capture him in a reverse embrace. “I meant the computer.”

He would have laughed himself, but he'd stopped breathing. “I know what you meant.”

“But I—” He slipped a hand under her skirt, and it was so sudden, so searing. Before she could gasp out in shock, he had driven her ruthlessly to the peak.

“I watched you.” Each word burned his throat as she poured into his hand. “I wanted you.” Half demented, he whipped her up again, pressing his face into her neck as her body shuddered, shuddered. “Do you remember the first time I found you here?”

“What?” She couldn't remember her own name. There was only this need he was ruthlessly building inside her again. “Alexi, please. Come home with me. I need—” This time she cried out as the third high, hard wave swamped her.

“I wanted you then.” In one violent move, he spun her chair around and dragged her to her feet, and her already weakened system went limp at what she read in his face. “Let me show you exactly what I wanted.”

This wasn't the smooth and patient lover of the night before. This man with the fierce eyes and bruising hands wouldn't cuddle her and whisper exotic endearments. This was the warrior she'd only glimpsed. He would plunder. Whether or not she was ready, he was showing her that dark, reckless side of him that he kept so tightly controlled.

In the moment when he stared at her, the look in his eyes hot and concentrated, she understood that excitement took a twist into the primitive when it carried a touch of fear.

He fisted a hand in her hair and yanked her against him. His body was like rock, vibrating from deep within, as if from an erupting volcano. For that moment, there was only the strength and the fury of the inevitable.

His mouth burned over hers, his tongue diving deep, while his free hand tugged the snap of her skirt free. He wanted her flesh, craved it. That heated silk, those alluring curves and taut muscles. Time and place had lost all impact. There was only here. Only now. Only her.

Shivery fingers of fear ran up her spine. She hadn't known what it was to be wanted this way. It was so huge, so violent, so glorious. Before, he had given her more than she had ever dreamed of. Now, he seemed compelled to give her more than she had ever
dared
dream.

Beside them, the printer stopped its practical clatter and dropped into a hum. The low, waiting sound was drowned out by the thundering of her heart. The bright working lights overhead seemed to dim as he took her hips and pressed her hard against him.

“You make a war inside me,” he muttered as his teeth scraped roughly down her throat. “There's no end to it. No peace from it. Say my name. I want to hear you say my name.”

“Alexi.” When his lips crushed down on hers again, he felt her breathe it, warm, into his mouth. “Take me. Now.”

The wild need slammed into her so that her mouth was as turbulent, her hands as frantic. Dozens of tiny explosions burst inside her body, merging into one huge tumult of sensation that battered, bruised and bewitched. She was all but sobbing with it as she tugged and pulled at his clothes.

She was quivering for him. Couldn't stop. The power and pressure growing inside her was all but unbearable. And the heat, the furnace blast of heat, had her skin slicked and her head spinning. Glorying in it, she brought her mouth to his bare shoulder, savoring the taste of flesh. His busy, bruising hands had her bearing down with teeth and nails. His breath hissed in her ear as she reached down to curl impatient fingers around him.

Confused and tangled phrases whirled in his mind. He heard them burst from his lips to hang on the thick air as he fought to catch his breath. On an oath, he gripped her shoulders and hauled her back.

Her face was flushed, her eyes were glowing. He'd marked that ivory skin. He could see where his fingers had pressed, where his roughened cheeks had scraped. But the part of him that would have been shocked by his lack of care was far overshadowed by a dark and desperate desire to conquer, to consume. To mate.

He saw them now as brands, signs that made her his. Only his.

With a jerk of his head, he tossed his hair back. The way it swayed and settled had new emotion burning her throat. Naked, muscles bunched as if to fight, he looked so magnificent he dazzled her eyes.

Then he looked at her, and the smile that had nearly formed on her face froze into wonder.

“No one makes you feel like this but me.”

His accent had thickened, and the sound of it sent chills along her heated skin. She could only shake her head.

“No one touches you like me.” He took his hands from her shoulders and gripped the bodice of her chemise. “No one has you, ever again, but me.”

“Alexi—”

But he shook his head. He could feel her heart pounding under his hands, and his own chest was heaving. “Understand me. You're mine now.” Her eyes widened with shock as he jerked his hands and ripped the chemise in half. “All of you.”

He pushed her back against the table, watching the play of stunned excitement over her face. Yes, he wanted to excite her. And shock her. Stagger her.

His fingers dug into her hips as he lifted her. He was braced,
straining like a stallion at the bit. “Hold on to me,” he demanded, but her fluttering hands slid off his sweat-slick arms. His breath heaved out, his fingers dug into her smooth, taut flesh. “Hold!”

She met his eyes then, and felt that wild whip of power. Drunk on it, she gripped his hair and wrapped her legs around him. When he plunged inside her, her body arched back, absorbing that first rocketing flash of heat. It was like being consumed from the inside out.

She felt the cool surface of the table against her back first, then his weight on her. Greedy for more, she tightened around him, matching his fast, frantic rhythm, dragging his mouth back to hers so that they could echo the intimacy with their tongues.

He lost himself. There was only her now, and the need to possess her. The desperate craving to be possessed by her. Images reeled through his brain, all dark and sharp-edged, until he thought he would go mad.

And went mad.

In a frenzy of movement, he dragged her farther onto the table, crushing papers, knocking aside empty cups, scattering pencils. He couldn't take his eyes from her face, the way her eyes clouded, like fog over moss, the way her lips trembled with each gasping breath. There was a bloom on her skin now, a rose under glass. He was hammering himself into her, empowered by a rabid fury of emotion that had its razor-tipped fingers around his throat.

Too much, she thought frantically. Never enough. The harsh overhead lights fractured into rainbows that blinded her eyes. They seemed to arch around his head, but she didn't think of angels. His eyes were so dark, so fiercely focused. Even as her own grew leaden, she refused to close them.

Oh, to watch him wanting her. Taking her.

She couldn't understand the words he murmured, over and over again. But she understood what was in those eyes. They were tearing each other apart, and they couldn't stop. The animal had taken over, and it had diamond-sharp claws and jagged teeth.

There was nothing left but the sound of their mixed labored breathing, the solid slap of flesh against flesh, and the heady scent of hot, desperate sex.

She felt his body go rigid, felt the rippling muscles in the arms she gripped turn to stone. He groaned out her name as his eyes sharpened like daggers. When he poured himself into her, she cried out in triumph, then again in wonder as he drove her over that crumbling edge with him.

The strength that had screamed through him switched off like a light, and he collapsed, panting, his full weight on her. Fighting for breath, he wallowed in her hair, drawing in the scent of it and the fragrance they'd made together. He couldn't find his center, the focus that was so vital for survival. He no longer had one without her.

God, he could feel her vibrating beneath him, shuddering from the aftershocks. And there were tears mixed with the dew of sweat on her face.

With breath still burning his lungs, he levered himself on his elbows and shook his head to try to clear it. At the movement, she made a small, whimpering sound in her throat that both aroused and dismayed. Trying to find the gentleness that had always been so easy for him, he shifted their positions and began to stroke her hair, her shoulders, her back.

Murmuring apologies, he cradled her like a child. “
Milaya,
I'm sorry. I hurt you. I must have hurt you. Don't cry.”

“I'm not crying.” But, of course, she was. He could feel the tears fall even as she ran kisses over his face and throat. “Just tell me you love me. Please tell me you love me.”

“I love you. Shh.” He covered her mouth tenderly with his. “You know I love you.”

“I love you.” She pressed those wet, shaky kisses to his cheeks, to his jaw. “You have to believe that I love you.”

A hot fist clenched in his gut, but he kept his hands gentle. “Just let me hold you.”

Tearing up again, she pressed her face to his shoulder. “Even now you don't believe me. Alexi, what more can I do?”

“I believe you.” But they both knew he said it only to comfort. “You belong to me. I believe that.”

“You're everything I want.” She relaxed against him, satisfied that he would take that much.

“No more tears?”

“No.”

He tilted her chin up to search her face. “How badly did I hurt you?”

“I don't think the results will be in for days.” She smiled a little. “How badly did I hurt you?”

His eyes narrowed, and her smile widened. “You're not…upset?”

“About what?”

“I was an animal.” With a hand that had yet to steady, he brushed her tumbled hair out of her face. “I took you on a table like a lunatic.”

“I know.” After one long, satisfied sigh, she slid her body lazily over his. “It was wonderful.”

“Yes?” Guilt began to turn to pride. “You liked it?”

After being so thoroughly ravished, it wasn't difficult to stroke his
ego. “It was like being dragged off by some barbarian. I couldn't even understand what you were saying. It was exciting.” She kissed his cheek. “Frightening.” And the other. “It was also the most erotic experience of my life.”

“You were crying.”

“Alexi.” She touched a hand to his face. “You didn't just overpower me. You overwhelmed me. No one's ever made me feel more wanted. More irresistible.”

“I can't resist you, but I'm sorry I put bruises on you.”

“I don't mind—under the circumstances.” After another luxurious sigh, she glanced around the room. “I don't know how I'll ever work in here again, though.”

Now he grinned, wickedly. “Maybe it'll inspire you.”

“There is that.” She shifted to straddle him and watched his sleepy eyes skim down to her breasts and back. Possibilities, she thought. There were definite possibilities in that look. “Being a cop, I imagine you've been through arduous physical training.”

The possibilities had occurred to him, as well. “Absolutely.”

“And you'd probably have amazing recuperative powers.”

His brow lifted. “Under the right conditions.”

“Good.” To be certain she created them, she ran her hands over his still-gleaming chest.

With a half laugh, he caught her wrists. “McNee, wouldn't you rather pick this up in bed?”

For an answer, she leaned over, letting her lips hover a breath away from his. The tip of her tongue darted out to trace the shape of his mouth, to dip teasingly inside, then retreat. Slowly, she tilted her head. Softly, she tasted his lips. Achingly, achingly, she deepened the kiss.

“Does that give you a clue, Detective?”

“I
can't believe you want to spend the best part of a Saturday morning in a sweaty gym.” Alex was stalling, even as he walked with Bess up the iron steps that led to Rocky's.

“It's your sweaty gym,” Bess said, and kissed him.

The past few days had been almost like a honeymoon, she thought. If she took out the hours they'd both been at work. But they'd made the most of what time they'd had together, snuggling on the couch in her place, cooking a meal in his, wrestling in bed in both.

She was starting to hope that he believed she loved him. And, once he did, she wanted nothing more than for them to take that next step. The step that would lead to an authentic honeymoon, with all the trimmings.

“You picked me up at my gym yesterday,” she pointed out.

“That wasn't a gym.” There was the faintest trace of a masculine sneer in his voice. “That was an exercise palace. Fancy lighting, pipedin music. All those mirrors.”

“At least I'll be able to see when my butt starts to drop.”

He gave it a friendly pat. “I'll let you know.”

“Do, and die,” she said smartly, and pushed through the frosted glass doors.

She immediately thought of every bad boxing film she'd ever seen. The huge room echoed with grunts and slaps and thumps. It smelled of mildew and sweat and… She took a testing sniff and decided she didn't want to know what else. There were exposed pipes along the ceilings and walls, and there was a hardwood floor that looked as though it had been gouged by spikes. The boxing ring that was set up in one corner was already occupied by two compact, dancing men in tiny shorts who were trying to pop each other in the eye.

A trio of punching bags hung at strategic points. A half-naked man with a body like a cement truck was currently trying to whip the tar out of one of them.

Weights were being employed as well. She watched tendons bulge and muscles bunch.

They didn't worry about mirrors and lighting here. Nor did she spot any of the high-tech equipment she was accustomed to. This was down-and-dirty—squat, sweat and punch. She sincerely doubted there would be a juice bar in the vicinity, either.

“Had enough?” Alex asked. He was obviously amused at the thought of her stripping down to her leotard and having a go with the boys.

Bess closed her mouth, then answered his grin with a cool stare. “I haven't even started yet.”

It was his turn to drop his jaw when she peeled off her sweatshirt. Beneath she wore a snug, low-cut crop top in zigzagging stripes of green and purple. As she shimmied out of her baggy street shorts, he shoved the discarded shirt in front of her.

“Come on, Bess, put your clothes on. Sweet Lord.” The bottom half was worse. Over formfitting tights she had on a teeny strip of spandex that covered little more than a G-string. “You can't wear that in here.”

“Is it illegal?” She bent over to stuff her sweats into her gym bag and heard the heavy thump of weights as they were dropped. Maintaining position, she turned her head and smiled at the pop-eyed man staring at her.

The catcalls and whistles started immediately, the sound swelling and bouncing off the cinder-block walls. Alex was very much afraid there would be a riot—one he was likely to incite himself. “Damn it, put something on before I have to kill somebody.”

“They look harmless.” She straightened again and lifted her arms to tie the short curls at the nape of her neck into a stubby ponytail. “Anyway, I came to work out.” With a challenging grin, she flexed a muscle. “How much can you bench-press?”

“McNee, don't you dare—” He broke off with an oath as she blithely strolled across the room to chat with the weight lifter. The two hundred pounds of muscle began to babble like a teenager. Alex had no choice but to send out a warning snarl, much as a guard dog might to a pack of encroaching wolves, before he went after her.

She pulled it off, of course. He should have known she would. The men started out drooling, kicked over into laughing and finally wound up competing with each other to show her the proper way to perform squat lifts, chin-ups and leg curls.

Before an hour was over, she'd been shown pictures of wives and children, listened to sob stories over sweethearts and stopped being ogled—unless it was at a discreet distance.

“You sure you want to do this?” Alex asked again, tapping his gloved hands together.

“Absolutely.” She smiled at Rocky as he himself laced up her gloves. “I couldn't leave without one sparring match.”

“You watch out for his left—it's a good one,” Rocky advised her. “Kid could've been a contender if he hadn't wanted to be a cop.”

She winked at Rocky. “I've got fast feet. He won't lay a glove on me.”

Two of her new admirers held open the ropes for her so that she could step into the ring. Enjoying the sensation, she adjusted her padded helmet. “Aren't we supposed to wear those funny retainers?”

“The what— Oh, mouth guards?” He couldn't resist, and he leaned over and kissed her to an accompaniment of hoots. “Baby, I'm not going to hit you.” In a friendly gesture, he tapped his gloves to hers. “Okay, put your hands up.” When she did, lifting them toward the ceiling, he rolled his eyes. “It's not an arrest, McNee.” Patiently he adjusted her hands until they were in a defensive position.

“Now, you want to guard, see? Keep your left up, keep it up. If I come in like this—” he did a slow-motion jab at her jaw “—you block, jab back. That's it.”

“And I fake with my left,” she said, and did so.

“If you want.” Lord, she was sweet. “Now try for here.” He tapped his own chin. “Go ahead, you don't have to pull it.” When she punched halfheartedly, he shook his head. “No, you punch like a girl. Put your body behind it. Pretend I'm Dawn Gallagher.”

Her eyes lit, and she swung full-out, only to come up solidly against his block. “Hey, that's good.” Impressed, she swung again. “But I've got to move around, right? Fake you out with my grace and fancy footwork.”

She did a quick boogie that had the onlookers clapping and Alex grinning at her. “You got style. Let's work on it.”

He was enjoying himself, showing her the moves. And it certainly didn't hurt for a woman living in the city to learn how to defend herself with something more than an ammonia-filled water pistol.

“It's fun.” She ducked her head as he'd shown her and tried two quick jabs with her left.

“Always room for another flyweight,” Rocky called out to her. “Come on, Bess, body blow.”

Chuckling, she aimed for Alex's midsection and dodged his light tap toward her chin. “You look so cute in gym shorts,” she murmured.

“Don't try to distract me.”

“Well, you do.” She danced around him again, and, laughing, he turned toward her.

“Okay, that ought to—” He ended on a grunt when she connected hard with his jaw and set him down on his butt.

“Oh, God.” She crouched instantly, battering his face with her gloves as she tried to stroke it. “Oh, Alexi, I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?”

He wiggled his jaw, sending her a dark look. “Right cross,” he muttered as men climbed through the ropes to cheer and hold Bess's arms in the air.

 

“I'm really sorry,” Bess said again as they started down the iron steps. But she was fingering the little bit of tarnished metal Rocky had pinned—with some ceremony—to her sweatshirt. “You said not to pull my punches.”

“I know what I said.” He'd be lucky if he didn't have a bruise, Alex thought. And how the hell would he explain that? “You only got through because I was finished.”

She ran her tongue over her teeth and stepped outside. “Uh-huh.”

“Don't get smart with me, McNee.” He snatched her up and swung her around. “Or I'll demand a rematch.”

Wildly in love, she tossed her arms around his neck. “Anytime.”

“Oh, yeah? How about…” He trailed off with a grimace as his beeper sounded. “Sorry.”

“It's all right.” She only sighed a little as he tracked down a phone
and called in. As she stood beside him, watching his face, listening to his terse comments, she realized that their plans for a picnic in the park and some casual shopping were about to go bust.

“You have your cop's face on,” she said when he hung up. “Do you have to go in?”

“Yeah.” But he didn't tell her they'd found another victim. It was bad enough that he was spoiling their plans for the day. “It's probably going to take a while. I'm really sorry, Bess.”

“Look.” She framed his face with her hands. “I understand. This is part of it.”

He brought those hands to his lips. “I…” But he didn't tell her he loved her, because she would echo the words, and it made him nervous to hear them. “I appreciate it,” he said instead. “And I'll make it up to you.”

“Tell you what—why don't I finish up what I have to do, then stop by the market? I'll make dinner. Something that won't spoil if it has to be warmed up a couple of times.”

Though his mind was already drifting away from her, he managed a pained smile. “You're going to cook.”

“I'm not that bad. I'm not,” she insisted with a bit of a huff when he grinned. “I only burned the potatoes the other night because you kept distracting me.”

“I guess it's the least I can do.” He kissed her lightly once, then again, longer. “I'll try to call.”

“If you can.” She waved him off, then stood watching while he jogged down into the subway. With a quick laugh, she spun around, hugging herself.

She felt just like a cop's wife.

 

“I hope you don't mind me dropping by.”

“Of course not.” Rachel took a look at the bulging shopping bags in Bess's hands. “Been busy?”

“Whenever I get started with that little plastic card, I can't seem to stop.” She dumped her purchases inside the apartment door. “You look wonderful. How can you look wonderful less than a week after going through childbirth?”

“Strong genes.” Pleased in general, and with Bess in particular, Rachel kissed her on both cheeks. “Come sit down.”

“Thanks. I— Oops.” She dipped into the bag and pulled out a gold-foiled candy box. “For Mom.”

“Oh.” Rachel's eyes took on the glow a woman's get when she looks at a lover—or a five-pound box of exclusive chocolates. “I think you just became my best friend.”

Chuckling, Bess dug into the bags again. “Well, I know that people tend to drop by with baby gifts.” She held out a box wrapped in snowy white with bright red lollipops scattered over it. “And, though I couldn't resist the tradition, I figured you deserved something really sinful for yourself.”

“I do.” Rachel tucked the baby box under her other arm. “It's really sweet of you, Bess, and unnecessary. You and Alex already brought Brenna that wonderful stuffed dragon.”

“That was from us. This is from me. It's a girl thing. I saw this tiny little white organdy dress with all these flounces and little pink bows and I couldn't resist.”

Rachel's new-mother's heart melted. “Really?”

“I figure in another year she might want to wear motorcycle boots, so this may be your only chance to play dress-up.”

“I swore that whatever I had, I wouldn't make sexist decisions in dress or attitude.” She sighed over the box. “White organdy?”

“Six flounces. I counted.”

“I can't wait to put her in it.”

“Ah, company.” Mikhail strode out of the bedroom with Brenna tucked in his arm. “Hello, Aunt Bess.” He kissed both of her cheeks, then her mouth.

“You said you wouldn't wake her up.” This from Rachel, who was already leaning over to coo.

“I didn't. Exactly. What's this?” Recognizing the gold foil box, he flipped it open and dived in.

“Mine,” Rachel said in a huff. “If you eat more than one, I'll break your fingers.”

“She was always greedy,” he said over the first piece. “Where's Alexi?”

“He got called in.”

“Good. Now you have time to sit down. I'll sketch you.”

“Now?” Womanlike, Bess lifted a hand to her hair. “I'm not exactly dressed for it.”

“I want your face.” Obviously well used to making himself at home, he opened the drawer on an end table and rummaged for a pad. “Perhaps I'll do your body later. It's a good one.”

Her laugh was quick. “Thanks.”

“You might as well cooperate,” Rachel told her, and crossed over to take the baby. “Once the artist in him takes over, you haven't got a chance.”

“I'm flattered, really.”

“There's no reason to be,” he said absently as he unearthed a suitable pencil. “You have the face you were born with.”

“Thank God that's not always true.”

That caught his interest. “You had it fixed?”

“No. I just sort of grew into it.”

“Not there,” he told her before Bess could sit. “Over there, closer to the window, in the light. Rachel, when do I get the drink you promised me?”

“On its way.” She stopped nuzzling Brenna long enough to look up. “What can I get you, Bess?”

“Anything cold—and a shot at holding the baby.”

“I can accommodate you on both counts.” Rachel laid her daughter gently in Bess's arms. “She hardly ever cries. And I think her eyes may stay blue. Like Zack's.”

“She's a beauty.” Bess leaned down to brush her lips over the curling dark hair and to draw in the indescribably sweet scent of baby. “Like all of you.”

“Move,” Mikhail ordered his sister. “You're in my way.”

Shooting off a mild Ukrainian insult, she headed for the kitchen.

“Talk if you like.” Mikhail gestured with his pencil, and began to sketch.

“It's one of my best things.” She'd already forgotten to be self-conscious. “Where's Sydney and Griff?”