Forged in Desire

by Brenda Jackson

  She paused a moment and then said, “I began getting phone calls in the middle of the night.” Similar to the one I got last week, she thought. “The person wouldn’t say anything, but I knew he was there. I could hear him breathing.”

  “Did you report it to the police?”

  “Yes, but all they did was file a report and tell me to get my number changed. I did. I thought that would be the end of it. But that wasn’t the case.”

  “What happened next?”

  She closed her eyes. To some it might have been a harmless prank, but she hadn’t seen it that way. “Scott must have told the guy how terrified I was of snakes, so he put several in my car. They weren’t poisonous, but I had no way of knowing that. The guy claimed the plan was for me to see one of them the minute I opened the door. I didn’t and had driven a block when all those snakes seemed to come out of nowhere.”

  Margo doubted that she would ever forget that day. “I freaked out, nearly hit a post and jumped a curb before bringing my car to a stop and rushing out. Luckily there hadn’t been much traffic on the road. I don’t want to think about what could have happened if there was.”

  “How did you find out who was behind it?” She could tell Striker was trying to hold back his anger.

  “My college roommate, Sharon, whose wedding gown I made, is married to an FBI agent. As a favor, Walter checked out a few things after the local police claimed they had more serious crimes to investigate. It was easy enough to trace who’d recently purchased that many snakes. When Walter paid Freddie Siskin a visit, he confessed. Said he was a college friend of Scott’s and was doing him a favor by scaring me. Scott claimed he hadn’t known about the snakes, and that all Freddie was supposed to do was make those phone calls.”

  “You knew Siskin?”

  “No, never met him. I still haven’t met him. I let Walter and my attorney handle everything. I had no desire to see a man who could be so despicable.”

  “And you didn’t press charges?” Striker’s tone was furious.

  “No. Scott agreed to pay for the damage to my car. Since there were no injuries, I didn’t get the police involved. I just wanted Scott out of my life. He wanted to make it up to me, but I refused to let him. Then I decided it was time to move home, which I had been thinking of doing anyway.”

  Striker was quiet for a minute, and then he said, “I hope I never get the chance to meet Scott Dylan.”

  Even with the dim light shining through the window, she could see the tightness of his jaw. “Why?”

  His dark eyes stared at her. “Because if I ever do, I plan to pulverize his ass.”

  “I told you I handled it.”

  “And just how did you handle it, Margo?” he asked in a voice she could tell had reached its boiling point. “You just said you didn’t press charges.”

  “No—instead both Scott and Freddie Siskin agreed to give a specified amount to my favorite charity.”

  “And what charity is that?”

  “The Foster Child Foundation. When I lost both my parents I was lucky to have Uncle Frazier. Other kids aren’t that fortunate. This particular foundation provides college scholarships for kids in foster care.”

  “How much did they have to pay up?”

  “One hundred thousand dollars each. And they had only thirty days to get the funds together. It was either that or acquire records as felons.”

  As far as Striker was concerned, she still had let them off too damn easy. What man would do something like that to a woman he claimed to care about? Like he told her, he hoped his path never crossed with Dylan’s. He’d meant what he’d said about what he would do. And the crazy thing of it was that the man expected her to take him back after all that bullshit. How would Dylan handle it if he ever found out Margo was loaded and hadn’t really needed his six-figure salary anyway?

  Margo shifted on the sofa, and Striker’s gaze moved over her. She was now sitting cross-legged on the love seat. “How much longer do we have to just sit here?” she asked.

  He glanced at his watch. It was close to two in the morning. They’d been sitting down here for almost an hour now. “It shouldn’t be too much longer. They want to see if that same car drives by again.”

  “Is that what assassins do? Scope out where the person lives before making a hit?”

  “I wouldn’t know.” He was lying because in a way he did know. While in the slammer, one of his fellow inmates had been an assassin for a drug lord. The man claimed his method of elimination was dependent on the target. Of course, Striker wouldn’t tell Margo that. She had enough to be stressed out about already. Although he agreed they needed to take precautionary measures, he was hoping the car was a false alarm.

  At that moment his cell phone went off. It was Stonewall. “Yes, Stonewall?”

  “It’s been an hour and nothing has happened. Go on to bed and we’ll continue to keep an eye on things over the monitors here. If anything develops, we’ll let you know.”

  “Okay.” He then clicked off the line.

  “Did Stonewall say we can go to bed now?”

  Why did she have to make it sound as if they were sharing a bed and not sleeping in separate rooms? “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  He moved across the room to turn on the lights and then glanced back over at Margo. She had eased from the sofa and was stretching her body again. He stood there, almost spellbound, and watched her. He couldn’t breathe. Could barely swallow. At that moment he almost forgot his name. He couldn’t help it and was all but shivering at the sensations racing through him. Evidently she didn’t know how good she looked stretching her limbs like that or she wouldn’t be calling attention to herself. Or maybe she did know and was being coy about it.

  Striker dismissed that notion immediately. The one thing he did know about Margo was that she didn’t have a coy bone in her body. A few nosy ones and a couple of flippant ones that went along with that luscious mouth, but there was nothing coy about her.

  His nostrils flared when he picked up her scent, the same one he’d been inhaling all day. How could she still smell so good at this hour?

  “I thought we had to keep the lights out.”

  “That car probably won’t return tonight, so it’s okay. But if you prefer, we can keep them off,” he said, flipping the switch and throwing them into darkness again. And then he began moving toward her.

  When he came to a stop in front of her, she tilted her head to look up at him. “What’s going on, Striker?”

  When he didn’t answer but reached for her hand, she asked in a strained voice, “What do you think you’re doing?”

  He felt it just like she did—sexual attraction that had the ability to overpower them, send spikes of heat through their bodies even when they didn’t want it to. When they couldn’t fight it. This time it was more intense than ever. Hell, even his balls were on fire.

  He eased in a little closer, so close their bodies touched. Their hands were still joined, their fingers entwined, and what felt like electrical shock waves were traveling all through their limbs. He felt a deep thumping in his chest from the forceful acceleration of his heart.

  “Striker, what are you doing?”

  She posed the question again. He figured Margo needed to pay better attention since she should know by now what usually followed the hand-holding. “I’m about to kiss you, Margo.”

  Pulling her even closer into his arms, he lowered his mouth to hers.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  PROTECTOR OR SEDUCER? Which one was the real Striker Jennings? Margo wondered. She had a feeling the answer was both, although it was the seducer who was winning her over right now. He’d already demonstrated just what an experienced kisser he was. Now he was taking all that skill to a whole other level.

  Her knees had nearly buckled the mom
ent his tongue had entered her mouth. Then, without wasting any time, he’d begun mating his mouth sensuously with hers. She closed her eyes, feeling whatever strength she had left drain from her body. Resisting him was clearly not an option at this point.

  She had come to know his taste that first time and had savored it with each kiss since. But now she wanted to do more than just savor. She wanted to consume it in a way that would be downright scandalous. When had Margo Connelly ever done anything shocking? Disreputable? Outrageous?

  Never. Until now.

  The instant his mouth had come down on hers, he had captured her tongue and held it hostage while he sucked on it. And he was doing so in a way that had her heart pounding and the juncture of her thighs throbbing. How in the world were they supposed to hold off the bad guys when they couldn’t hold off each other?

  And then there was the way he was embracing her, deliberately letting her feel his long, hard erection pressing against her belly. The feel of that swollen shaft sharpened every sense she had, and little by little she was caught up in a wave of desire so thick she was becoming disoriented. They were wearing clothes, but they might as well be wearing nothing at all. Heat was consuming her, and she knew it had to be consuming him as well.

  Instead of completely ending the kiss, Striker released her tongue to begin nibbling around her mouth, corner to corner. Then he took the tip of his tongue and licked where he’d nibbled, causing a drugging rush of need to swamp her.

  “Striker?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Where will this lead?” She wanted to know. Had to know. Especially when she was standing here and letting him touch and taste her in a way no other man had done before.

  Margo was well aware how his hands had been working her backside. When had a man kneaded her butt cheeks like dough? Pressed them closer to the fit of him. Included them in this process, and this was a process. If his intent was to drive her insane, make her lose her senses, then he was doing a real good job at it.

  Then she noticed they were moving. He was leading her backward toward the sofa. When the backs of her legs brushed against the sofa, he released her mouth only to begin gently sucking on her lower lip. She could hear herself moan. He had quite a knack for making her do that.

  When he finally pulled back, it was to stare down at her, his lips still wet from their kiss. “You want to know where this will lead, Margo?” he asked in a deep, husky voice, as he removed his holster carrying the Beretta and placed both on the table.

  He was looking at her in a way that was so incredibly hot, she could barely breathe. The best she could do was nod in answer.

  “It leads here.” And then he lowered her to the sofa.

  * * *

  STRIKER KNEW BETTER. He, of all people, knew this shouldn’t be happening, yet he wasn’t of a mind to stop it. He didn’t want to think about how things would be in the morning. After all the heat and lust had worn off. How their protector–client relationship would have taken a hit it could never recover from. Still, knowing all of that meant nothing right now. Not when he eased Margo on the sofa and followed her there, straddling her body.

  They were still clothed, but he wasn’t sure just how long that would last. Not when he wanted to strip every single stitch off her. Not when he wanted to taste her all over but especially between the legs and then slide inside of her.

  “I want to pleasure you,” he finally said, not able to remain silent any longer.

  He could see the shocked look that appeared on her face. “Why are you surprised by what I just said?” He definitely needed her to explain.

  She licked her lips as she stared up at him and said, “I’ve never had a man tell me that.”

  “No?”

  “No. Not that I’ve had a lot of sexual encounters. I’m not in the habit of sleeping around for the sheer fun of it.”

  If not for the fun of it, then what? he wondered. As long as it was safe sex that both people wanted, then he didn’t see a thing wrong with it. Especially if you didn’t intend to get serious, which was against his policy. And that was him. He didn’t believe in getting serious about a woman. Too complicated. What if he let a woman down by not being there when she really needed him...like he’d done with Wade? Dealing with the guilt of failing one person was enough. He didn’t want or need to take on another.

  “It doesn’t matter how many lovers you’ve had, Margo. What matters is making sure pleasure is shared. I can’t wait to show you what I mean.”

  The blush that touched her features suggested her other lovers had never been so blunt. “Can I ask you something?” He leaned in and licked around her lips with his tongue. He loved her taste.

  “What?” she asked in a near groan.

  Striker figured if his licks were getting to her, then how would she handle his brand of foreplay? When time slipped by and he’d been so into licking around her mouth that he hadn’t answered, she repeated her question. “What? You had something to ask me.”

  He leaned back and looked down at her mouth. It was wet. He liked that look. “Yes, I have something to ask you. Are you into oral sex?”

  * * *

  MARGO’S MOUTH DROPPED OPEN. Shocked, she looked up at him. What man would ask a woman a question like that? Evidently the same man who had no problem telling her he wanted to pleasure her. She’d certainly never had such conversations with Scott or Brock.

  “Do you have an answer for me or are you trying to decide, Margo?”

  She released the breath she’d been holding. “Truth is, I—I—”

  He lifted a brow. “You what?”

  This was really getting out of hand, she thought. Why weren’t they just going at it? Why so much discussion? Doing so should be cooling the flame, but for some reason, talking to him about sex was actually stimulating the fire. “I’ve never engaged in it before.”

  He looked at her strangely. “By it you mean oral sex, right? And not sex?”

  Why had his voice gone to a deep, raspy tone, one that was like a sensuous stroke down her spine? “Of course I’ve had sex before,” she said, nonplussed. If he was waiting for her to reveal anything she and Scott had done in the bedroom, that wouldn’t be happening. Although she was certain Striker had pretty much figured out at least one thing they hadn’t done.

  “Why all the questions about that, Striker?”

  “About oral sex?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because before I get inside of you I want to taste you all over.”

  At that moment Striker didn’t want to think about the fact that good ol’ Scotty had dropped the ball, big-time. Damn, it was hard to keep his chest from expanding, because he intended to pick up the dropped ball and run with it. By the time he finished with Margo, she would know what she’d been missing.

  Starting now.

  He leaned closer and homed in on her mouth, taking it with a hunger that had an intense degree of lust spreading through his body. When she began returning his kiss, he could actually feel his erection swell even more.

  When he broke off the kiss, he whispered against her lips, “I want you, Margo.” He felt she needed to know that.

  He gazed at her wet and swollen lips and the desire-filled eyes staring back at him. “And I want you too, Striker.”

  A smile touched his lips. And he continued to smile when he eased off her to stand and to pull her up with him. “You are one sexy lady,” he said, brushing his fingers along her wrist and feeling her tremble. “Do you know how often I think about seeing you naked?” he said, bringing her hand up to his mouth so he could kiss it.

  “No.”

  “Every damn time I hear you in the shower.”

  She looked at him strangely. “You can’t hear me in the shower.”

  “Yes, I can,” he said, using the tip of his tongue to li
ck around her wrist.

  “No, you can’t. My bathroom doesn’t share a wall with your bedroom, so there’s no way you can hear me.”

  He released her hand to pull the tank top over her head and tossed it aside. “Okay, then, I can’t.” He wasn’t about to argue with her. Not when he had better things to do.

  “Striker?”

  “Hmm?” She was wearing a skin-tone lace bra and through all that lace he could see her nipples. Hard, tight and protruding.

  “I asked you a question, Striker,” she said in a voice that was rising in anger. “How can you hear me in the shower?”

  He needed to get her mind off what he’d said and knew this would be one sure way to do it. Reaching out, he cupped her breasts, loving the way they felt in his hands. Thick. Full. Firm.

  “Striker?”

  He leaned in close to release the clasp of her bra and then eased the straps from her shoulders. Perfect. His tongue thickened just looking at them. And when he took the pad of his thumb and rubbed a turgid nipple, she said his name again. This time between breathless gasps.

  Instead of answering her, he leaned toward her chest and eased a nipple between his lips and began sucking on it. He felt her stomach clenching against him and knew he was boosting her desire, making her want him as much as he wanted her. He was getting her wet.

  He didn’t want her just wet; he wanted her drenched. When he released her right breast, he immediately shifted his mouth to the other one, giving it the same intense attention.

  “Oh, Striker!”

  He pulled back. He wasn’t ready for her to come yet. He had a lot of other places to taste. Lowering his body to his knees, he removed the flat shoes from her feet. She placed her hands on his shoulders to keep her balance while he did so. His shoulders burned where her hands touched.