Snapped (12 page)

But when she moved close to him, pressed
herself into his back and circled her arm around his waist, he couldn't think
about anything else. Her breasts squished against him, the firm buds of her
nipples rubbing against his bare skin. He closed his eyes and tried to think
about his taxes. That was supposed to cure a raging erection, wasn't it?

"Nick," she whispered in his
ear, "give in. You want to. I want to. It's only natural for two adults in
this situation."

He shoved her arm away. "No. I'm not
like you, Lucy. I don't do the one-night stand thing." And he didn't want
to risk anything longer than that. Not that she'd want it. This woman was bad
for him. He needed to avoid any kind of intimacy with her, long or short term,
because he knew he'd get in too deep.

"How do you know, if you don't
try?" Her hand touched him again, but this time rested on his hip. He wore
boxer shorts, but that didn't stop the zap of electricity passing between them.
Her hand rose to the band and quickly slipped inside, but returned to his hip. He
sucked in air. His skin burned where she touched him. What if she circled her
hand down, around? If she connected with his erection, she'd win for sure.

"Lucy, please, stop." But it
sounded half-hearted, even to him.

"I love this part of a man,"
she said ignoring him. "The place where butt meets thigh." Her hand
rubbed along the area, leaving a wake of tingles and heat. "The sinews,
the small dent just here," her fingers pressed into the side of his butt
cheek, "and the corded muscle when it's squeezed tight, like now." She
leaned in, nipped his ear and pulled his shorts down further so his rear was
completely exposed under the covers. "And you've got the best butt I've
ever felt, Nick. Let me see it."

He shook his head because he couldn't
speak. He untangled his fingers from the sheet he didn't know he was clutching,
and pulled the shorts back over his butt.

She sighed loudly. "You're one tough
cookie to crack. But I will make you crack." She sounded annoyed. "And
you're going to love it."

He shook his head again, wanting to tell
her he wouldn't crack, he wouldn't love it. But he wasn't a good liar so he
kept quiet.

"What's wrong with you?" she
snapped, rolling away. "Anyone would think you were a virgin bride the way
you're behaving. Men don't play hard to get, Nick, it's not in the rule
book."

But he wasn't like every other man. He
couldn't sleep with her because that meant starting a relationship, and Lucy
Hudson wasn't the relationship kind. And he wasn't the one night-stand kind. He'd
learnt that the hard way, after Donna. When she cheated on him with his partner
in Stanton, he wanted to get her back at first and tried to sleep around. Only
he couldn't just up and leave in the morning, no matter how hard he tried. Since
the divorce, he'd had two short relationships with women he didn't care for,
just because he couldn't tell them he'd only slept with them for sex.

Never again. He'd never have a fling with
a woman he didn't care about. It was too awkward. Which left having
relationships with women he
did
care about, but there'd been none of
those lately. Only Lucy intrigued him enough to try, but she'd made it
abundantly clear she wouldn't be interested in anything other than a one-night
stand. And he couldn't fall into that trap—unrequited love wasn't his style. If
he tested the waters, then he was going to want to keep her, and he couldn't. It
was all or nothing.

Lucy rolled out of bed and went back to
her room, her heart raw, her head spinning. Oscar was asleep in the middle of
the bed so she crept under the covers and tried not to disturb him. She closed
her eyes and tried to sleep but the scene in Nick's room replayed over and over
in her head.

Stupid, stupid girl
. She'd made a complete fool
of herself. She'd thought he wanted her—she'd
felt
how much he did—but
she'd read the signs wrong. She must have, because no man can withstand that
onslaught unless he didn't find her attractive. No man ever had before.

Nick was different. Oh yeah. Big,
gorgeous, kind of scary but soft underneath all the bluff.

And not interested in
her
.

She sighed into the pillow. There was a
first time for everything. But why did her first rejection have to be from the
only man she'd desired in the last six months? No one had pressed all her
buttons the way Nick had. He turned her insides to mush, made her skin warm
where he touched her, and drove her to distraction just by being near.

Apparently she did nothing to him. So
he'd got a hard-on once or twice, big deal. Men got those by walking next to a
woman dressed in anything that wasn't a sack. It didn't mean anything. Apparently
not to Nick anyway.

He still thought she was a slut, and he
still didn't want anything to do with her because of it.

Fine. She could deal with that. She had
before. But this time, she was going to deal with the self-righteous attitude
differently. She would make him want her so bad that he'd forget his damned
principles.

The best revenge is to be successful. And
she'd pull out all the stops to be successful at making Nick Dante squirm.

***

Lucy stepped out of the shower and dried
herself with the threadbare towel. Like the sheets, the towels in the St Jude
house looked like they'd been there since the turn of the last century. Dried,
she wrapped the towel around her wet hair and looked around the bathroom. She'd
forgotten to bring her clean clothes in and she wore the only towel around her
head. She'd have to go back to her bedroom for the clothes or the linen
cupboard in the hallway for another towel.

Or she could just parade around nude for
a while. She smiled. Now that could be fun.

She opened the bathroom door and padded
out to the kitchen where delicious smells of bacon and eggs wafted out to meet
her.

"What's for breakfast?" she
asked from the doorway.

Nick turned, the answer dying on his lips
when he saw her. His Adam's apple jerked and his mouth formed a tight 'O'. She
could almost see the internal struggle and knew the point at which his head won
over his cock. His mouth clamped shut with a snapping of his back teeth and his
flushed face returned to his natural color. But still he didn't tear his eyes
away. In fact, he studied every inch of her, defiantly. First each nipple, then
down across her stomach to the triangle of hair between her thighs. Then
agonizingly back up again, stopping at her chin. He avoided looking into her
eyes.

"Put some clothes on," he said,
turning back to the sizzling bacon.

"You don't mean that." She
headed for the fridge, not sure if her side of the scoreboard deserved that
point, or his.

"Yes, I do. You'll get cold."

"My skin's still hot from the
shower." And from his scrutiny. "It doesn't bother you, does
it?"

The metal spatula clattered on the bench
then onto the floor. Nick swore loudly. Lucy stood by the fridge and held her
breath. He didn't bend to pick up the spatula. He leaned into the bench, palms
resting on the edge, his back to her. His head drooped between his tense
shoulders.

He swore again. "What's wrong with
you, Lucy? Have you got no shame?"

She swallowed. She hadn't expected this
reaction. Embarrassment, avoidance, but not confrontation. "Shame? Why
should I be ashamed of my body?" Her anger, returning now that the initial
shock dissolved, bubbled to the surface.

"Not of your body. Your body's per—"
He shook his head. "Forget it." He spun the hotplate dial to the Off
position then picked up the spatula.

"No, I won't forget it, Nick." She
strode across the room. "I want an answer. Why should I be ashamed?"

"Don't push it, Lucy."

She placed a hand to his shoulder to get
him to turn around. He wouldn't and she couldn't force him.

"Drop it."

"No." She crossed her arms
beneath her breasts and waited. He'd have to tell her eventually if he wanted
her to move.

"Right. You asked for it." He
half turned but his eyes didn't dip below hers. "You should be ashamed of
your behavior. Nice girls don't go flashing their tits to a guy they just met. Nice
girls don't try to sleep with every guy they meet."

"I never said I was a nice
girl."

"No." A strangled laugh gurgled
in his throat. "I guess not."

"I am what I am, Nick. Don't judge
me because I walk around naked or because I like men."

"Like men! Ha. I think your meaning
of like and everyone else's are a little different."

"That's not my fault."

"No, but it's your problem." He
shook his head and let out a sharp sigh. "Damn it Lucy, don't you know
what people call you? Doesn't that make you feel..." He shrugged, but Lucy
was pretty sure he was about to say 'like a slut'.

"I don't care what other people
think of me." But it sounded hollow. She just wasn't sure anymore. "I
don't walk around naked for other people anyway. Just for you."

"Gee, I feel privileged." But
the upper lip curled into a snarl indicated otherwise. Without looking at her,
he strode out of the kitchen. She heard the bathroom door close and the pipes
groan as he turned on the faucets for the shower.

At least she'd got a reaction. Not the
one she'd wanted, but it was better than the disinterest of the previous night.

Or was it? She couldn't be sure. The
emptiness inside made everything so confusing.

***

The ice-cold water sliced through Nick's
skin, tensing his muscles and slowing the blood in his veins but not quite
dampening his erection. He stayed under another two minutes but when it became
obvious he was stuck with a penis that couldn't forget Lucy, naked, he turned
on the hot tap. He didn't want to die of hypothermia. Not with a woody like
this—the ambulance drivers would be laughing so hard they wouldn't be able to
get him out of the house.

He couldn't believe he'd said what he
had. He'd practically called her a slut to her face. Hadn't he learned from the
last time? What did preaching to her achieve? A big fat nothing. If anything,
it probably made her more determined to prance around naked and get a rise out
of him. Literally.

He groaned and outstretched his arms,
resting his palms against the cool white tiles. He dipped his head and warm
water flowed over his neck and shoulders and down his back, smoothing away the
tension like massaging fingers. He closed his eyes but that wasn't a good idea
because Lucy's naked body appeared, ripe, sensuous and quivering.

She was delicious. A sprinkle of freckles
dotted the skin at her shoulders but everywhere else she was smooth and whiter
than a porcelain doll. But nowhere near as cold. Despite the chill in the
house, her skin looked warm. Her nipples were plump and soft, so kissable. Her
face had been flushed, but with anger not desire.

She was angry with him for pointing out
what other people thought. Why couldn't she see what was wrong with her
behavior? People judged others by what they do—surely she must know that. So
why shoot the messenger?

He swore quietly. Maybe he should've
phrased it differently. But how was a guy meant to string a proper sentence
together when a body like that was on display in front of him? It was a wonder
he'd kept his tongue working and not dangling uselessly from his mouth. If only
he'd toned down his words, kept his opinion to himself and reasoned with her,
she might not have snapped his head off.

Who was he kidding? No matter how he said
it, it would always come out that he thought she was a slut. How could it not? He
did. And it bugged him. It bugged him even more knowing she'd always react the
same way—offended, indignant and defiant—because that's the way she was.

He almost smiled. He kind of liked that
about her. She was gutsy. And how would
he
react if someone spoke
offensively to him? Not with any decorum that's for sure. No, he couldn't blame
her for her reaction, but if he wanted to avoid that sort of scene again, then
he'd just need to put up or shut up.

The put up part wouldn't be a problem. His
cock still stood to attention.

The best defense with someone like Lucy
was not to react at all. That way, if he was lucky, she might just stop
torturing him with her body and a smile. He could do that.

Yeah right. And pigs were flying around
the bathroom.

***

Lucy, dressed, waited until she heard the
shower turn off before she put fresh bacon into the fry pan. She turned the
heat up a fraction on the eggs and whisked them so they didn't stick. Nearly
ready. A few minutes later he joined her.

He glanced quickly at her then at the
stove. "What's this?"

"I felt bad for ruining your
breakfast. Toast?"

He nodded. "You didn't have
to."

"I wanted to. If I
hadn't...distracted you, you wouldn't have needed to take a shower before
eating. Juice is on the table."