Deliver Me from Temptation (14 page)

He smiled thinly at that but immediately wiped it off by rubbing a hand down over his face. When he looked at her again his eyes were serious, and sad. The kind of sad that spoke of a hurt beyond repair. The kind she felt when she thought of her sister never being there again. She had to ruthlessly stomp on the urge to soften. She didn’t get it. How could what they were discussing have anything to do with that sort of pain?

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

She gritted her teeth, starting away from him again but he grabbed her arm. “Jessica, wait.”

Something about the tone of his voice made her hesitate.

“I swear I’m not that man. I’m not a criminal.”

“So say ninety-eight percent of the felons I’ve put behind bars,” she retorted with a jerk of her arm, but even to her ears it sounded more like a plea for him to prove that he was in the other two percent.

“Nothing,
nothing
I have done or said was meant to harm you. If anything, I’ve only wanted to keep you safe.”

He seemed so damn sincere, but…

She tipped her head back, sucking in a breath at the deep storm residing in his eyes. It was as if she could physically feel the despair in his gaze. It plucked at something in her chest, echoing his ache. Heartache. That’s what it was. Somehow, someway, despite all the red flags that should have scared her off from him, she cared. At least enough that it hurt that she was going to have to turn the tape in and thereby implicate him. Because whether he had a perfectly good reason for being there or not, whether he was being positively truthful in his desire to keep her safe, she couldn’t withhold this. Not and live with herself.

“How can lying keep me safe?” she asked, the whispered words revealing how much she wanted him to fix this. She wasn’t sure it was even possible, but damn she wanted him to try. She wanted to trust him. She wanted that chance.

He smiled. The weak movement, though enough to crease his dimples, did not reach the sorrow she saw in his eyes. “Ever heard the expression that sometimes you’re better off not knowing?”

“I’ve never put much stock in that one, sorry,” she replied tartly, breaking their gaze and staring pointedly down at his hand that still held her arm.

He released his grip and rubbed his temples, as if the entire conversation were giving him a headache. Well didn’t that make two of them?

“I can’t tell you, Jessica. Even if I wanted to.” He dropped his hand helplessly. “You’re just going to have to trust me.”

“Trust.” She laughed with the irony that he’d dare say that after all his quasi lies. “You have to earn trust.”

One perfect eyebrow rose, his look one of incredulity. “Right. I’ve certainly given you no reason to trust me. Not when I found out you were the detective in charge and tried to walk away from you in the precinct. Not when I saved you from those men in the garage. Not when I brought you home to care for you. And certainly not when you were in my bed, your legs wrapped around me, your body pleading with me to take you and I didn’t because you were not aware, were vulnerable though, God, I fucking wanted you. Correct that. Want you.”

He wanted her. A hot little thrill slid down her body with the admission ending in a clenching need deep in her belly. It took all her self-control to ignore that need and focus on the conversation and one of the very, very important facts he’d left out.

“You wouldn’t have been there to save me if you hadn’t been stalking me.”

His jaw firmed, the muscle rolling. “Not stalking.”

“No? What then? Because in my world people don’t follow other people around like that. Not if they don’t want to be handed a restraining order.”

“Bodyguards do.”

She shook her head. “What? So now you’ve appointed yourself my bodyguard? What makes you think I need protecting?”

“Don’t you?”

She planted a hand on her hip, making sure the movement pulled her jacket back enough to remind him of her gun. “No.”

The word hung in the air, the stubborn tension in his jaw telling her he didn’t agree with her. She expected him to say something, try to drive his point home, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise when he countered with his own question, yet it took her aback anyhow.

“What were you doing in that area that first night, Jessica?” he asked, the import obviously on the fact that she’d been in a dangerous part of town and that he, at least, believed she was foolish to be there.

“You mean the street I was on when I saw you chasing some helpless woman?” she asked, her hackles rising.

He gave a self-defeating chuckle. “Not helpless. I guarantee you that.”

“But you were there.”

“As were you.” He waited a beat, his head cocking to the side. “Why?”

“For my job. I’m a cop, remember? And contrary to popular police dramas, it’s not all glamour and glory.”

“But you went alone. Without backup. You telling me that’s normal?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. Really what was there to say? He was right, and though she could have come up with some sort of BS, it didn’t matter. She’d already explained too much of herself and her actions. What she needed to do was kick him out so she could drive back to the station and file the evidence.

He began pacing; bringing attention to how tall and muscular he was as he ate up what little room there was under the slanted ceilings of the loft. His movements, the energy that seemed to radiate off him as he propelled himself across the space then back again, were both absorbing and fascinating. And again her opportunity to steer the conversation was foiled.

“Damn it, Jessica. Places like that are not safe. Not even when the sun is out. If you don’t want me following you around ready to jump to your aid, then, for the love of all things holy, don’t put yourself into such dangerous situations!”

“Now you sound like Mike.” She folded her arms across her chest.

“Maybe you should listen to him.” He stopped his pacing. His eyes narrowing on her. “Who is this Mike anyway?”

She blinked at him, choosing to let him stew instead of answering. He sounded jealous and darn it, she had to admit she was a little thrilled by that fact, even as she berated herself for feeling that way. How could he be the bad guy? Even though he wasn’t being a hundred percent truthful, he wasn’t exactly a proficient liar. She could tell where he was hedging the facts. She believed that he wasn’t involved in either Rhodes’s or her informant’s death. She wanted to believe that his actions regarding the prostitute could be explained. She wanted to trust him. Really, really wanted to.

And why couldn’t he be the good guy? Alex was a lawyer; he had to have shown his ID at the police station. What were the chances that he and Logan had been out in that part of town for the same reason she was? Did that woman they were chasing know something that Alex needed for one of his cases? Is that why they were there? For answers? Was Logan prevaricating because of some damn nondisclosure clause he’d signed with the stupid lawyer? If that were true, it shed a whole new light on this entire situation. One she might even be able to live with.

Hope riding high in her chest, she opened her mouth to ask, but Logan beat her to it.

“Why were you there, Jessica? Trying to get killed?”

She sucked in a breath, shaking her head at the absurdity of his accusation. “I wasn’t trying to get killed.”

“You weren’t? Could have fooled me.”

“Of course not!”

“Damn it, Jessica. I can’t understand you. You won’t tell me why you were there. You won’t let me help you.”

“I don’t want your help.”

“What do you want then? To die? What happened to you that you’re so obsessed with avenging others’ deaths that you don’t even care about your own life?”

“I do care about my own life.”

“Prove it.”

She laughed. “How? Should I dance a jig? Maybe grab a bottle of wine and whoop it up on the beach?” She shook her head. “Staying focused and doing my job doesn’t mean that I don’t have a life or that I don’t care about staying alive to live it.”

He was silent for a long time. She could feel the burn of his stare upon her, licking at every inch of exposed skin. She hoped to hell he couldn’t see through her. His words had hit a hell of a lot closer to home than she’d thought possible. How could this man have read her better than people who who’d known her her whole life? Her own partner thought her reckless, but this man—in less than two days of knowing her—had already figured out that it had nothing to do with recklessness but rather sheer determination. She’d solve the case. Put every one of the bastards in jail. Even if it was the last thing she did.

She figured there was no more to say on the topic. He’d made his point; she’d basically told him to shove it and mind his own business, so when he spoke, the whispered words like a caress across her senses, it made her blink in surprise. “How about you just kiss me.”

She had to shake her head to clear the cobwebs that must be covering her ears. “Excuse me? What did you just say?”

“I said, kiss me.”

“Kiss you.”

He nodded. “Yes. We both know you want to. That I want you to.”

“So kissing you would prove what exactly?”

“Not much. But it
is
what you want. Isn’t it?”

“And you think I’m too busy being a cop to take what I want in life? Is that it?”

He didn’t reply. Didn’t need to. He was bullying her. He figured that such a challenge would get him what he wanted. That she’d back down and in so doing prove his point. She could tell by his body language—arms folded across his chest, brow cocked in smug challenge—that he didn’t think she would do it.

Well joke was on him. Because, damn it, he was right. She
did
put her job before all else. Gave too damn much of her life to a cause she could never possibly win. Until tonight. Tonight she’d invited him out here. And no matter how many times she told herself she’d done so for answers, the truth was much simpler than that. She wanted him. End of story. And whether she trusted him didn’t matter in the end. She’d been compromised at the first kiss. Mike was going to be pissed. There was a good chance internal affairs would be involved. At the very least she would find herself in the shrink’s office, removed from duty for who knew how long. At the worst…

He
won’t ever want to see me again.
And why should he? Why would Logan ever trust her if he compromised his values and told her his secrets only to have her turn on him by submitting the tapes anyway? All of a sudden Jessica was glad she hadn’t gotten the chance to ask for sure if he was working for Alexander. It made the culpability for what she was about to do just a little less. Because she was going to do it. She was going to kiss him, taste him, one last time before the end.

She raised her chin, taking a step forward. If possible his brow rose even higher, only this time in obvious surprise. His arms dropped to his sides, his weight shifting back on his heels.

“I’m sorry. That was…” His gaze dragged down over her, hunger in his eyes. But then he shook his head. “You don’t have to, Jessica. I was just trying to…”

“Push me into a corner?” she asked, laying a hand on his chest.

“Not exactly, I was just…” His heart beat hard and heavy under her hand, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “Damn.”

And wasn’t that empowering? Who knew the simple threat of a kiss, a kiss he’d asked for, could do what she’d wanted to do five minutes before: put him on guard.

Relishing her power, she dragged her finger down his sternum, thrilling at each rise and dip of his washboard abs, and when her hand got to the rim of his jeans, the tips of her fingers hitched themselves into the fabric, causing him to suck in his breath, she smiled in triumph.

Oh yeah. She was going to do it. Take. Exactly. What. She. Wanted.

“Damn it, Jessica. Don’t do that.”

“Why not? Isn’t this what you asked for?” She slid her fingers farther into his jeans and yanked him closer. He cursed, but she noted he didn’t pull back. Or remove her hand. Or try to hide how much he wanted it, too. Damn the man had a nice package. Large enough to make her fingers itch with the desire to check it out sans jeans, make sure it was real.

“I said kiss me, not toy with me.”

“Why not? Obviously I like toying with you. And this is all about taking what I want, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice nothing but a low purr that surprised even her. She’d had lovers, not many, but for the most part those encounters were experimentation more than anything else, an attempt to see if she could let go enough to enjoy the moment and take what her body craved. Passion. And the results of those experiments had taught her one thing: Her only passion was for justice. But her body throbbed with alarming need. Logic, right and wrong, fled her mind. She wanted him, and set out to prove it by rubbing her body up and down his.

He growled. At the same time, his hands came down on her shoulders, his grip almost bruising as he seemed to war with himself over whether to pull her in or push her away. For a moment she thought perhaps he decided on the latter, just the slightest pressure on her collarbone. Something snapped inside her, something that had her own body tensing, her fingers digging like claws into the denim fabric.

No. She hadn’t gotten her kiss yet. Not that it would be enough. A simple kiss to prove him wrong was no longer an option. Not when her body practically wept at the thought of not tasting him again.

She lunged, her other hand snaking around his neck, practically pulling herself up his body so she could reach her destination. She needn’t have been so scared. His hands left her shoulders, but only so they could lock on her hips, his head dipping as he ground his pelvis against her. So real, and oh God that felt so good.

Their mouths came together like two greedy animals, ready to devour each other. It probably should’ve been scary or somewhat disconcerting to have gone from zero to tongue down each other’s throats in two seconds flat, but it wasn’t. It was sublime.

“Aw, crap. Too good.” He muttered this between his attempts to swallow her whole. And she had to agree, even as she cursed herself for meeting him lip for lip, tongue for tongue, teeth for teeth. She hadn’t trusted her memories of that first kiss back in his brownstone. Hadn’t believed it could have been so mind-blowing, so oh-please-please-fuck-me-now good. She’d been wrong.