Stolen Fury (25 page)
She had sympathy written all over her face. Her eyes were a soft meadow green, her voice tender and sweet. He knew if he reached for her right now she’d probably let him, wouldn’t even think to push him away, because she felt sorry for him. For his mother, for his screwed-up brother. He could see himself taking advantage of her battered defenses, sinking into all that warm womanly softness so he could get rid of some of that ache in his chest for a few minutes, at least.
But that wouldn’t help. And it wasn’t the way he wanted her. Taking her to the hospital had been a monumental mistake, just as he’d known it would be. He didn’t want her empathy. He’d much rather have her pissed and fighting mad. That, at least, he knew how to handle.
He dredged up a nasty snarl that fit his surly mood, knowing it would get her to back off. “Careful,
querida.
You’ve got pity fuck written all over that pretty face of yours. I don’t think you want to dangle that out there in my current mood.”
Stunned
was a pretty good description of her reaction. To her credit though, she didn’t respond. Simply flashed him an in-your-dreams look, pursed her lips and left the room.
Smooth, Sullivan.
Disgusted with himself, he ran a hand over his hair, leaned forward and scratched the back of his head. She might be tough as nails made of super-strength steel, but the past few days had obviously worn her down. He hadn’t missed the flash of hurt in her eyes before she’d drawn up her shield, although he wished like hell he had.
Shiiiit.
What he should do is get off his ass, find a bedroom and lock himself in until he’d slept off the temper bubbling like lava in his blood. Before he said something that would make things worse. Before he
did
something he couldn’t undo.
So, hell if he knew why he pushed off the chair and headed the other way.
She was standing at the refrigerator when he stepped into the kitchen. Soft white light spilled over her, highlighting the curves at her waist and the long line of her throat, as she tipped a bottle of water to her lips and sipped.
Arousal seared his gut even though he tried like hell to clamp it down. He slipped his hands into his pockets and balled them into fists so he wasn’t tempted to reach for her. “Look. That was uncalled for and totally out of line. I’m tired, and it’s been a pretty shitty day. So, I apologize.”
She closed the massive refrigerator and turned. “You’re apologizing? Wow, I…I just don’t know what to do with myself.”
He caught the smartass flash in her eyes. “Eat it up,
querida.
It doesn’t happen often.”
“I know.”
His eyes narrowed at her suddenly serious tone. “When I have something to apologize for, I do.”
“Ah.” She nodded, recapped her water. “Right. Like the pity fuck comment. Gotcha. Because that’s a biggie. Definitely bigger than say, lying to me. Or seducing me. Or, wait,” she scrunched her nose, “stealing from me.”
That did it. He’d had enough out of her smart mouth and the guilt she’d been laying on him since she’d shown up in the Keys. It was way past time he set her straight. “You believed what you wanted to believe in Italy. If I’d been honest with you about who I was and what I wanted, you wouldn’t have given me a second look.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yeah. It is,” he said as the anger welled up in his chest. “I
know your type, Dr. Maxwell, and I know exactly what you think of people like me. You wouldn’t have given me the time of day. Sure as hell wouldn’t have had drinks with me, let alone dinner.”
She might have been hurt, but she masked it before he could tell. “You’ll never know now, will you? Fact is, Sullivan, you used me, and it doesn’t even bother you.”
“Used you? Do you think I needed you in Italy? No way,
chica.
I could have been in and out of your room in under five and you’d never have known what happened to Alecto.”
She tipped her head and shot him a droll look. “Then why didn’t you? Oh, wait. I already know the answer to that.” Fire flashed in her eyes. “Because you
wanted
me to know you’d taken it.”
She was good and pissed now. Definitely no pity fuck being offered anytime soon. Ever, from the looks of it. Well, good. That’d make his life a hell of lot easier.
“You’re right about that,” he said. “I did want you to know. But only so you’d come after me and I could talk you into working with me. And I could have done that without what happened in that hotel room. It sure as hell would have been better for me. What I should have done was slip the damn Mickey into your wine at dinner like I’d planned and gone in when you were sound asleep.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
Why? One simple reason.
Her.
He’d wanted her. More than he could remember wanting anything else in his life. More than made sense to him even now.
When he didn’t answer, she rolled her eyes. “I thought so. You’re a guy. You saw an opportunity to get lucky, and you took it.”
She didn’t have a clue what she’d done to him that night. What she was
still
doing to him. It hadn’t been only about getting lucky. There’d been more there. Right from the start. The fact she didn’t feel it told him everything he needed to know.
“I didn’t do the seducing in that hotel room.” He shook his head. “You might want to take a step down off that high horse and think back to what actually happened that night,
querida.
”
“I know what happened. You stole from me!” It took every last bit of strength he had to keep his voice even and void of emotion. “You want the truth? Stealing from you was the only smart thing I did that night. Wanting you more than that damn rock was my biggest mistake. It still is.”
Lisa stood motionless after Rafe left the room, unable to move or even think. She wasn’t sure what had just happened. She’d pushed, as she always did, but he hadn’t backed down. In fact, he’d pushed back so hard, he’d damn near knocked her on her ass.
Wanting you more than that damn rock was my biggest mistake. It still is.
The raw emotion she’d heard in his voice told her he was telling the truth, and it nearly stopped her heart.
Her legs felt like jelly, her stomach a hot coil of nerves. But it was the erratic trip of her pulse that kept her from moving. That and the twenty-pound weights suddenly attached to the soles of her shoes.
Oh, God. He was right. She’d done the seducing that night. She’d wanted him with an overwhelming need that had made her throw all rational thought aside. She’d made every first move there was, had all but begged him to take her. She’d known—even then she’d known—she’d been in complete control in that hotel room. She’d read it in his eyes when she’d kissed him in the lecture hall, had felt it as soon as he’d touched her. The man had been so far gone he couldn’t have said no if he’d wanted to.
And he definitely hadn’t wanted to say no. He’d wanted her.
Still
wanted her.
Her mind skipped back to the night in Shane’s kitchen when she’d been ready to jump him and he’d held back. To the kiss at Landau’s party when he’d told her with his mouth just what he wanted to do to her body. And it dawned on her that he’d kissed her that night in a public place where nothing else could happen between them. Each time he’d made it clear he was more than interested, and each time he’d backed away, leaving the decision of where they went completely up to her.
Her eyes darted toward the arched doorway leading into the living room. He’d done it again, this time with words, and she wasn’t about to let him lay that on her and then walk away.
He’d taken one of the five guest rooms on the second floor; she knew because she heard water running from the end of the hall. She pushed the door open and took a sweep of the room.
Guest room
was a loose term. She’d peeked around when he’d been outside with Pete, and each of the “guest” rooms in the lavish house were bigger than her whole apartment back in San Francisco. This one was done in deep tans and dark wood tones, with gauzy curtains at the windows and a masculine-looking four-poster bed.
His open bag sat on a nearby leather side chair. His shoes and shirt were tossed on the floor as if he’d just ripped them off. When the shower started in the bathroom, her gaze darted toward the open door.
Steam billowed from the room. The thought of him naked and wet sent electricity zinging through her veins as if a live wire had gone off under her skin.
She found his wallet on the dresser, and in it—just as she’d hoped—a three-pack of condoms. Smiling at his practicality, she stepped into the bathroom, then caught her breath when she saw him standing under the spray behind smoky glass-paneled shower doors.
God, he was beautiful. Tan and firm from head to toe. All roped muscle and chiseled sinew. His hands were braced
against the dark tiles, eyes closed, face tipped up to the water sluicing over him. Her mouth went dry at the sight of him, run worn and ragged after everything they’d been through the past few days.
Need rushed through her entire body. She was tired of fighting it, of pretending this wasn’t exactly what she’d wanted from the moment she’d laid eyes on him.
Her sweater hit the tile floor, followed by jeans and underwear. When she pulled the massive shower door open, he looked toward the sound, stark surprise registering across his handsome features.
Good. She wanted him off-kilter. As off as she’d been since he’d walked into her life.
His dark gaze swept the length of her naked body, making every inch of her skin tingle with anticipation and pure lust. She stepped in, closed the door at her back and let his heat and strong male scent surround her.
“Don’t.” Danger brewed in his eyes. He grasped her hands at the wrists to keep her from touching him. He was good and pissed and struggling to keep his temper in check, but it didn’t discourage her. If anything, it made her need stronger. “Just turn back around and get out.”
A muscle in his jaw flexed, warning her to back away, but the hunger lingering in his eyes contradicted his words. She stepped under the spray. “I would, if I thought that’s what you really wanted.”
“What I want is for you to leave me alone,” he ground out. “I’m not in the mood for games, and you know damn well you’re playing with fire here.”
She wasn’t in the mood for games either. She was in the mood for him, hard and hot and deep inside her. “Maybe I want to get burned.”
The doubt that crossed his face told her she’d been right, that what held him back was the fact he didn’t think she wanted him with the same searing need. He couldn’t be more wrong. And she intended to prove it to him.
“I want you, Rafe. Right now.”
He shook his head slowly. “No.”
“Yes.” She eased closer, until his fingers brushed her abdomen. When she felt his pulse kick up against her skin, liquid heat shot straight to her core. “Oh, yes. More than before. I want to finish what we started. I want you to take me like you wanted to back in that hotel room.”
He took a step back, setting her away from him. The rigid line of his shoulders, the tense set of his jaw screamed for her to back off. But his eyes. They were the key. And they were wavering. “Trust me. You don’t want me like this.”
This was exactly how she
did
want him. On the edge of control, exposed, greedy for the need of her. The way he’d been in Italy. The way she’d fantasized about him since that night.
She moved closer.
His grip tightened, warning her his restraint was slipping. “There’s no more nice left in me today, Lisa. If you touch me, it won’t be all sweet and romantic. It’ll be rough and hard, and I won’t quit even if you beg.”
God, yes. That’s what she wanted.
She smiled, knowing she’d just won, knowing he was as powerless as she was. “Romance has never done it for me, Rafe.” She eased up on her toes to bring her mouth within millimeters of his. “Make me beg.”
The animalistic groan that tore from his chest sent excitement pulsing through every inch of her skin. He let go of her wrists, looped one hand around her waist, tangled the other in her hair to yank her head back and slammed his mouth onto hers.
Water streamed over them as he pushed her back against the tile wall and devoured her mouth, thrusting his tongue into her in a way that made her yearn for the feel of his length deep inside her.
Her hands slid down his back, over sleek muscles and carved angles, to grip his hips and pull him against her. His erection stabbed into her belly, confirming again what he
hadn’t been able to hide from the second she’d stepped into the shower. He did want her. Now.
Right now.
“God, Lisa.
Te necesito.
”
She didn’t have a clue what he’d just said, but oh, it made her wild. Just the sound. She tore the condom open at his back, tossed the wrapper and arched against him to match his frantic kiss as she slowly rolled the latex down his rock-hard length.
He groaned into her mouth as she ran her hands up and down his throbbing erection. But she didn’t have time to explore as she wanted. Suddenly his hands were everywhere, his mouth taking her on a roller coaster of sensations as it streaked down her neck to suckle and bite and send her into an abyss of desire.
When he pulled a nipple between his teeth, she moaned at the electricity coursing through her body. When he nudged her legs apart with his knee and thrust two fingers into her wetness, she gasped, sure she’d break apart from the sheer pleasure. But when he gripped her hips and lifted her, pinning her against the wall so he could drive inside her, she knew she was lost.
She came in a blinding rush of light and heat that rippled out from her center to every cell in her body before he’d thrust a handful of times. And even as it faded, as she felt his thickness plunge into her again and again, another wave built, stronger than the first.
Her heartbeat hammered against her ribs, against his as he groaned, “Again,” in her ear and pushed her back to the edge. Each deep thrust, every greedy stroke of his tongue against hers sent her higher until she was sure she’d come out of her skin. Until that final moment when he moaned into her mouth, drove deep one last time and took her into bone-melting oblivion right along with him.