When Bruce Met Cyn (15 page)

“Yeah. I guess. It's gonna be weird, though.”

Relief, and anticipation, made him tremble. “Do you want to borrow a shirt to sleep in? You didn't get anything from the loft.”

“If you insist.”

Using his thumbs, he tipped her chin up and lightly kissed her mouth. “I do. I may have strong moral beliefs, but I'm still a man, and you're too much temptation.”

He left her stammering behind him to fetch a long T-shirt from his bureau. When he turned back around, she'd seated herself on the side of the bed.

He caught her arm and urged her to the hall bathroom. He flipped on the light and she shrank back, her face averted. “You've had my tongue in your mouth,” Bruce told her deliberately, “so I don't suppose you'll mind using my toothbrush. You can clean up, change in here, then I'll take my turn.”

She locked onto his face, her own a study in dazed bafflement. “You get stranger by the minute, Bruce, you know that?”

He almost laughed. He was a man on a mission—nothing strange about that. “Ten minutes, okay? I'll call and get us a flight for the morning.”

He trotted back down to the kitchen, where Cyn couldn't hear him on the phone. He dialed Bryan first, but after four rings, he decided his brother must be otherwise occupied and he hung up. He glanced at his watch. It was late, but he doubted Joe would mind.

Luna answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Hi Luna. It's Bruce. I'm sorry to call so late.”

He could hear some rustling as Luna asked, “Is anything wrong?”

“Maybe. Is Joe around?”

“Sure, just a sec.”

Joe came immediately on the line, sounding drowsy, his voice deep with sleep. “What's up?”

Watching the stairs for Cyn, Bruce explained about the imminent trip. “What do you think?”

“I think it's a setup of some kind and you should be damn careful.”

“Me, too.”

“Bryan told me about this Palmer Oaks creep. But murder? That's taking it to a whole different level. I'll make some calls in the morning, but this trip…I'd feel better if you had backup with you.”

“There's a detective on the case.”

“Not that kind of backup.”

Bruce hated to ask. “Then what kind?”

“My kind.”

The way Joe said that, as if arguments were useless…Still, Bruce immediately objected. “No, I can't do that, Joe.”

“I'm not asking, I'm telling you. You don't want to risk the girl, now do you?”

“No.”

“Good. I'll make the flight arrangements. You can settle up with me later. I'll call you back in just a few minutes to tell you when to be at the airport.” The line went dead.

Bruce stared at the phone. And he considered Bryan tough! Thinking of Bryan, Bruce knew his brother would probably agree with Joe, and at the same time be annoyed that he wasn't the one tailing them. His head began to pound with all the complications. But he'd do what he had to do to ensure Cyn's safety.

Cyn appeared at the top of the stairs. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah.” Bruce put the receiver back in the cradle. “I'll know about our flights in a few minutes. If the phone rings, I'll get it, okay?”

“Hey, I don't grab up other people's phones. No problem.”

Bruce stared up at her. She was bare except for the large white T-shirt swallowing her slender body. Her legs were as beautiful as the rest of her, shapely and slim and long for a woman so petite. And her breasts…even in the dim light at the top of the stairs, he could see her dark nipples, now stiffened, pressing against the fabric.

God give him strength.

He started up the stairs to her, and she backed up. That stalled him for only a moment before he continued on up. He stepped past her. “I'll only be a moment.” He closed the bathroom door behind him, then leaned on the door, giving himself a second to recover from the sight of her.

In record time, he had washed up and brushed his teeth. When he entered the bedroom, Cyn was again sitting on the bed. Her long hair hung down to her elbows. She had her knees pressed together, her small feet not quite touching the floor.

Young, Bruce reminded himself. Wounded and untrusting and in need of solace—solace that only he would give her. Now and forever.

“Get under the covers.”

Without a word, she did as he ordered. Her movements were stiff, and she pulled the sheet up to her chin, realized what she did, and pushed it back to her waist. Her pose became practiced, meant to deceive him about her uncertainty. But he knew her. Maybe better than she knew herself at this point.

Bruce stood there, just looking at her with her looking back, neither of them speaking, until the phone rang. He picked up the bedside receiver. “Bruce here.”

“Plane takes off at eight, so you need to be at the airport at six. Sorry, it was the only direct flight I could get on such short notice.” Joe gave him the airline and flight number. “If you see me, though I doubt you will, ignore me.”

Bruce had so many questions, but with Cyn watching him, he couldn't ask.

Joe must have realized that. “I'll be wearing a hat, glasses…don't worry. I'm not exactly a master of disguise, but Cyn doesn't know me well enough to pick me out of a crowd. I already rented us both cars. Yours is an Escort, mine is a Durango. I'll be right behind you at all times.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Hey, I'll enjoy it.” Then Bruce heard him say to Luna, “Yes, I'll miss you, honey. Don't doubt it.”

Bruce grinned. “I owe you.”

“Paybacks are hell, but I'll be kind. Get some sleep.”

Without looking at Cyn, he hung up the phone and walked to his dresser. He kicked off his shoes, sat on the foot of the bed to remove his socks. He could actually feel Cyn's gaze on his back, burning with curiosity, anxiety, and expectation.

He stood, still with his back to her, and pulled off his shirt. Purposely taking his time, he folded the shirt and placed it atop the dresser.

Cyn caught her breath. The mattress squeaked.

More tense by the moment, Bruce unsnapped his jeans, dragged the zipper down over a rapidly engorging erection and pushed them down his hips.

Cyn's small, cool hands touched his heated back. “Bruce?”

It wasn't easy, but he stayed on course, folding the jeans, putting them atop the shirt. Finally, wearing only snug boxers that couldn't hide his interest, he turned to face her. “I need to set the alarm. We have to be at the airport at six. As it is, we won't get much sleep.”

Her face was flushed, her heavy lashes at half-mast.

She didn't say a word, just turned on the bed to keep him in her sights as he walked to the nightstand and adjusted the alarm clock. His body throbbing, Bruce turned out the light and crawled beneath the covers.

Cyn still knelt in the middle of the bed.

“Come here, honey.”

She hesitated.

“I want to hold you, remember?”

Seconds ticked by while the tension in the air thickened. “Oh Bruce, I don't think I can.”

The trembling of her voice nearly did him in. He sat up, pulled her to him, and it was as close to heaven as he'd ever been.

Her mouth sought his, and Bruce didn't deny her. While kissing her, accepting her tongue and giving her his own, he lowered her to her back on the mattress, half covering her with his chest.

“I don't know what's happening,” she admitted in a small, tight voice.

“You want me,” Bruce told her, “and I'm glad.”

She huffed in exasperation. “Duh. I
know
that. I meant with you.”

He smoothed back her hair, kissed her cheek, her throat, her ear. God, he'd forgotten how sweet and small a woman's ears were, how exciting it was to hear a shuddered breath, feel the bite of nails on his shoulders.

He loved her. He knew that now, and no way could he expect her to sleep when her whole body was trembling and warmed with desire.

“Tell me you trust me, honey.”

Her head was arched back, her mouth open.

“Yeah, sure. Bruce? Don't stop, please.”

“No, I won't.” At least, he wouldn't stop until she was satisfied. His own satisfaction would wait for the right moment, when she wasn't fraught with emotional conflict.

When he knew she accepted him completely, for all the right reasons.

He kissed the very top of her breast and they both groaned. She was so incredibly soft.

Cyn reached for him, but he caught her hands. “No. Listen to me, Cyn.”

Instead of replying, she tried to get her hands free, her hips lifting into his, her breath accelerated.

Bruce stretched her arms up over her head. She tried to pull free. “Cyn, answer me.”

She moaned. “I never suspected you were a sadist, Bruce Kelly. Shut up and let me—”

“No.” He held her gently, but firmly. “You don't need to do anything for me.”

Her eyes snapped open, peering at him in amazement. “I
want
—”

“No.” He wouldn't be able to stand it if she touched him, and beyond that, he didn't want her to think she had to use what she knew to bring him pleasure.

Right before his eyes, she seemed to shrink with shame. “I'm clean, if that's what you're worried about. I've always been careful and I had regular checkups at the clinic—”

“Shhh. It's not that at all.” Cyn was too smart to have ever done differently. With complete honesty, he said, “Touching you, tasting you, is all I need.”

Embarrassment fled. “Oh, for the love of—”

“I mean it, Cyn. Promise me.” Too many times in her young life she'd been forced by circumstances to only consider a man's physical response.

Tonight, it was her response he wanted.

To encourage the right answer, he locked her wrists together in one of his hands, and cupped her breast. Her nipple pressed into his palm and he rubbed over it with his thumb, circling, flicking.

Her breath hitched, her back arched. “All right.”

Bruce smiled at her quick compliance. “Relax. Let me enjoy you.”

A broken groan, then: “You're the boss.”

He knew better than that, but for right now, he'd take her at her word. “Let's get rid of this shirt, okay?” He didn't wait, but caught the hem and pulled it upward and over her head. It tangled around her arms, and Bruce decided he liked that. It'd help discourage her from getting too grabby, and possibly save his rapidly dwindling control.

“Don't move.”

“I won't, if you do.”

Time and again, she delighted him. “How's this?” He bent and drew her left nipple into the heat of his mouth. His tongue curled around her, he tugged, suckled.

“Great. Fabulous. Ama—
ah.”

Heat pounded beneath his skin, leaving him feverish with need. He gorged himself on the taste and texture of her body. While sucking at her nipple, he touched her everywhere. Her breasts were full and soft, a handful and then some. Her nipples were very sensitive and he took turns until they were both wet and stiff and the lightest touch wrought a moan from deep inside her.

“I'm dying,” she whispered.

He was, too. He couldn't wait to feel the heat of her, and moved his hand—slowly, in case she wanted to object, down her belly, lower, lower. She grew tense with anticipation, her breath held, until his fingers slipped beneath her panties, pressed through her crisp curls and he found her wet, slick.

“Beautiful.”

She gave a soft sob, writhing against his hand, lifting to increase the pressure. In a raw whisper, she pleaded, “Fuck me, Bruce.”

His whole body shuddered and he had to grit his teeth. Her language was coarse, but that only told him that she was too far gone to measure her words or consider his vocation. And he was so damn glad. He'd gotten her there, and that had been his intent.

He wanted her to be totally natural. He wanted her to think of him only as a man, because at the moment, that was all he could be.

A man—who claimed this one special woman.

He circled her soft, slippery opening, pushed one finger deep, carefully inside. More wetness bathed his hand and it excited him unbearably. He opened his mouth on her throat, sucking her skin in against his teeth, knowing he marked her as his own and not caring. She was his.

Soon she'd know it, and not long after that, he'd tell the rest of the world.

Her hips moved in time to the rhythm he set with his thrusting finger, but it wasn't enough. Her breaths became choppy with growing, frustrated need. She whispered, “Oh, please, please…” in a litany that fired his blood.

He added a second finger, working her while testing himself. Her nipples drew him again and he wallowed in the pleasure of having her in his mouth, exploring her with his tongue. She felt like a small, female furnace. Little tremors coursed through her hot body. Building sensations sent small jerks and shivers through her, making her groan, her movements rougher.

“Shhh,” Bruce said, barely able to draw a breath himself. “I'll help you.” Knowing what she needed, he kissed his way down her body, over her lush, swollen breasts, to her taut belly, her hipbones.

He eased her panties down to her knees.

She froze on him. “Oh no, Bruce,
no.”
She forgot his instructions and caught her fingers in his hair, trying to pull him back up.

“Let me,”
he ordered. More than his next breath, he needed to taste her, all of her.

“But…” With tears in her voice, she fought with herself, then admitted in a breathless rush, “No one has ever…ever done that.”

Oh God. He was glad, so glad. Bruce stared down at her body in the darkness, unable to see her clearly, but inhaling the spicy scent of her need. He nuzzled his nose against her pubic curls, filled his lungs with the delicious smell of woman, an aroma guaranteed to make a man wild.