by Norah Wilson
~*~
“Stop.”
God, what now? Couldn’t he see they needed to do this right now, this very moment, while her blood was singing? To prolong it was to risk dousing this sweet fire before it could consume her, and she just might die if that happened. With renewed fervor, she pressed closer, abrading her breasts against him.
He put her away again. “Suzannah, we have to stop.”
“No, we can’t. Not now.”
“Suz, sweetheart, we have to ... oh, Jesus.”
She smiled wolfishly at the way his voice broke as her right hand found and cradled the hardness beneath the fly of his jeans. “It doesn’t feel like you want to stop.”
“I didn’t say I wanted to,” he gritted. His hands closed around her upper arms, and this time, he succeeded in putting her away. “Dammit, Suzannah, I’m trying to protect you, here.”
Protection. She hadn’t even thought of that. Could they be derailed for lack of a prophylactic? “Are you saying you don’t have a single condom in this huge two-story house?”
“It’s not that.”
Then what? Was he having second thoughts because of her job? His job? Her blood cooled as another thought occurred to her—could he have sensed her deficiencies already?
Noooo! She was losing it, this sweet, wild wanting. But his breathing was as ragged as hers, his chest was rising and falling like he’d run the hundred meter dash. Maybe it could still be salvaged.
“Then what is it?”
“The way you’re feeling right now, it isn’t real.”
She struggled to process his words. “Excuse me?”
“I mean, it is real. Of course it’s real. You’re feeling it, right? But it’s just a post-adrenaline thing.”
“Post-adrenaline thing.” She parroted his words.
“Yeah, you know, from the fire. The shock of seeing all those emergency vehicles in your driveway, the danger, the fear. It all triggers an adrenaline dump, the old flight-or-fight response. Except you responded to the crisis with your brain, not your muscles, which leaves your body screaming for release.”
Her face felt numb. Numb and tingly all at once. She took a step back, and he released his grip on her arms. “I don’t believe this.”
“I strong-armed you into coming over here, for your own safety—which I still believe was the right thing to do. And then I spouted off like a sixth-grader with a crush on the prettiest girl in the class—which is also pretty much the case. But dammit, Suzannah, I can’t now take advantage of you.”
Every breath she drew now seemed to burn her lungs. “Do I look like I feel taken advantage of?”
“Suzannah –”
“And you’ve never indulged in a bout of sex in the wake of one of these adrenaline rushes?”
“We’re not talking about me.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” The flame was well and truly doused now. It was sheer anger that made her pursue this. “So, did you feel taken advantage of in the wake of those encounters?”
“Suzannah –”
He spoke her name like a warning, but she paid it no heed. “Answer me. Did you feel victimized?”
“Of course not,” he growled. “I used those women, okay? And they used me. Mutual using. But that’s different.”
“How?”
“Someone’s threatening you. You’re frightened. I’m supposed to be protecting you, not exploiting the situation.”
“Bullshit.”
His jaw dropped.
“I’m not your charge, John. As far as your employer is concerned, I’m your girlfriend. You have no special fiduciary duty. Investigating this case is someone else’s job.”
“I realize that, but –”
“You wanted to call a halt just now, that’s fine. But don’t hide behind professional ethics at this juncture.”
His face turned thunderous. “What are you talking about?”
“I want to know the real reason you stopped.”
He turned away, shoving a hand through his hair. “I told you, the adrenaline ... sometimes you don’t make the best decisions. I didn’t want you to wake up regretting this one.”
“I would think that would fall squarely in the category of not your problem. And please don’t say you expect me to believe you have objections to—how did you put it?—mutual using.”
He whirled back to face her, his eyes glinting dangerously. “What if I do? Huh? What if I object to being your adrenaline tumble? What if I wanted something more? What if I’d rather you didn’t look at me like something to be swept under the carpet come morning?”