And then her fingers were curving around his shaft, gripping him with cool and delicious friction and he had time for one distracting thought—God, don’t let this be another fantasy—before gladly giving in to the sensation. Kara’s fingers, which slipped past locks and dealt blows hard enough to fell grown men, were the sweetest of dreams as she caressed, stroked, squeezed.
“OhKaraGod,” he gasped, then brought her breasts together and ran his tongue along her cleavage as her breathing grew harsh and her fingers ran across his now-slippery tip. He groaned and managed to stop himself from squeezing the pale globes until he marked her with his fingers. He wanted to mark her.
He wanted to kiss and suck every inch of her body, leave a ring of hickeys around her throat like a necklace, wanted to write his name on her forehead with a laundry marker, wanted to marry her so she would be his forever and he hers. Instead, he stopped himself from squeezing and attacked the button fly of her jeans. Being a fumble-fingered physician, his technique wasn’t nearly as stealthy as hers. She didn’t, thank God, seem to mind.
“More.”
“Yes.”
“I want—”
“That’s so good—”
“Yes, you—”
“You—”
“Oh yes—”
He didn’t know who was saying what, didn’t care, it didn’t matter. The only things in the world were her breath, her skin, her face, her sweet, courageous self.
“I’ve got to—got to send him a thank you note,” he managed, then kissed her again.
“Who?” She said the word into his mouth, then lightly bit his lower lip and squeezed his throbbing dick with perfectly even pressure from each finger, stopping just short of pain, making him want to beg her to do that again. “Who?”
Who indeed? What the hell had he been talking about? Oh, yeah… “Carlotti. One Eyebrow. The wonderful thug who brought you into my life. I’ll send him flowers. Wash his car for a year. Something.”
He felt the change in her at once. One instant she was warm and willing and had her hands all over him.
The next, she was letting go, looking at him with eyes full of fright, then, in the next instant, eyes that showed nothing except cool waiting.
“That’s enough of that,” she said calmly and gently pushed him back.
“Guh,” he said, conscious of the fact that most of the blood his brain used was currently residing in his dick and, as such, he was definitely having trouble keeping up. “Wha?”
“Sorry about that. We shouldn’t mix business with…ah…other things. Why don’t you zip up and join me in the living room?”
“Why don’t we have sex on the bathroom floor instead?” he asked in what he hoped was a reasonable tone, but what he was afraid sounded dangerously low and rough with lust. He felt growing anger and stomped on it. No meant no, of course, but he could easily strangle her right now. Had he ever been so aroused? Not since the night he lost his virginity…and maybe not even then.
“No thanks.”
“The kitchen floor? The living room? The fire escape? The hallway? The corner diner? Where?”
“Get dressed,” she said, not unkindly and left the room.
CHAPTER FOUR
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. The thought thundered through her brain, even as she cupped her breasts, even as she ached for more of Jared’s mouth and hands. She had nearly let him take her. ‘Let him’—ha! She had nearly raped him in his own damned bathroom, that was how badly she wanted him. He was all that was good and she was exactly the opposite and why, oh why couldn’t she keep that in mind?
Kara fastened her bra, pulled her shirt back over her head and sat down on the couch, dreading the moment Jared would come out of the bathroom. She’d abused him dreadfully, bringing them both to the edge then backing off and walking out without so much as a “sorry, I’m not that kind of girl”. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d wanted to slap her. She was so disgusted with herself she would have stood still for it.
But only once.
She tried to pull her hair into a ponytail with trembling fingers, then remembered the clip was still in the bathroom and gave up. “Remember the rules,” she said softly, trying to soothe herself, calm herself. Her voice sounded hoarse and she cleared her throat and went on silently, trying for calm. Usually she didn’t have to try. People you care for die or leave. So it’s better—safer—to never show true feelings.
Don’t get close. Don’t get personal. You stupid cow.
Scolding herself usually made her smile. Not this time. She had used Jared badly and owed him an explanation she would never let him hear: that she was powerfully drawn to him, that she would take a knife in the kidney before seeing him hurt, that she wished they could be together. Might as well wish she wasn’t a carbon-based life form…
Jared walked into the room and tossed her hair clip at her, gently underhand. At least he hadn’t fired it at her face with all his strength. She caught the clip and immediately pushed her hair up into it. She couldn’t look at him.
“It’s my breath, isn’t it?”
Startled, she looked up and opened her mouth to reply. Might have known he’d turn it into a joke , she thought ruefully and, on the heels of that, You’re not worthy to be sitting on his couch, much less putting your hands on his body, so keep it in mind, okay, doll?
He held up his hands. Skilled hands, healer’s hands. Lover’s hands. She tried not to stare at his fingers.
“No, no, you can tell me. I won’t be mad, I promise. Too many onions on my burger, right? I can take it.” He grinned at her, that crooked smile she was starting to love.
“I’m sorry,” she said. She looked up at him helplessly. “I don’t have an explanation.”
“That’s okay, I do.” He flopped down beside her and put his feet on the coffee table with a satisfying thump. She wanted to snuggle into him, the warmth of his body. Instead, she stared at the carpet.
“You’re secretly in love with me and couldn’t help yourself. Or, you’ve been heavily medicated for some time and need new drugs. Or you lost a bet. Or—”
“You’re very nice,” she interrupted, patting his thigh and then snatching her hand away. His thigh was long and heavily muscled; she wondered what he did to stay in shape. She wondered what he would think if she kissed him where her hand had just been. “But you’re not for me.”
“Not for you? What, like I’m something you’d pick up at Macy’s?”
“Not Macy’s,” she said, hating her cool tone but helpless to stop. “Maybe Kmart.”
His eyebrows arched. “Mee-yeow! Hey, don’t take it out on me because you’re sexually frustrated, sweetie. I was all set to tango… you were the one who called time out. Aarrggh!” He clutched his head, writhing. Alarmed, she reached for him, then forced her hand to drop back to her lap.
He looked up and speared her with his direct gaze. “I don’t want to fight. Listen, I only kissed you because I couldn’t stand being near you and not touching you. And because I really did want to thank you for taking care of the bad guys in the park. That’s twice you’ve saved my butt. You barely know me and you keep putting yourself in danger for me. It’s maddening, but sexy as hell.” He picked up her hand and she let him, afraid to speak, afraid to return the pressure of his fingers. “Why are you doing this?
Why me?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Well, I do,” he said with maddening assurance. “It’s because you’re good, you couldn’t stand to see someone in trouble and had to help. You—”
She flung off his hand and jumped up. “I’m not good!” she practically shouted. “I’m as far from good as someone like you could imagine.”
His eyebrows arched. “Someone like me?”
She ignored the interruption. “I’m helping you because you’ve got a nice body and great eyes, okay?
I’m in it for purely selfish reasons, I’m—I’m planning on shoring up your gratitude and trading it for sex, I—stop laughing .”
He had actually fallen off the couch, was holding his stomach and giggling like an idiot. He choked off his mirth, grinned up at her and said, “Sure you are. That’s why you bolted out of my bathroom like your hair was on fire. Fess up, Kara. Why are you here?”
“A very good question,” she grumbled and stepped over him to leave. Damned if she was going to tell him a thing. Not that she had been planning to. But if she had been (and she had not been), she wouldn’t now. No way. The man turned everything into a joke. She couldn’t bear it if he turned her life into a punch line. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t leave your apartment until I come back.”
He rolled over, cat-quick and grabbed her lower leg. Her progress toward the door slowed dramatically as she found herself lugging his two hundred pounds. “No you don’t,” he grunted. “You’re not doing one of your Batman-type fadeouts. We’re going to have a real talk like two people in a relationship.”
“We’re—not—in—a—relationship.” She braced herself and pulled, with no luck. He was stuck to her leg like a lamprey. She had no leverage. She could have loosened his grip any number of ways—kicking him in the eye would be a good start—but couldn’t bring herself to hurt him. Not physically, anyway.
“Let go—before I—put you—in—traction.”
“I’ll call that bluff, thanks. Bodyguards don’t whup their clients. Besides, we both know you’re crazy about me.” He chortled over what he probably assumed was a gross exaggeration. “Now talk! Who are you? Why are you here? When are you going to marry me?”
She stopped pulling and looked down at him. He was sprawled behind her, holding onto her calf with white knuckles, looking up at her with touching sincerity. “Stop joking.”