Forged in Desire

by Brenda Jackson

  He broke off the kiss, leaving her disoriented and more in a daze, while fighting to pull air into her lungs. She lay there, stretched out beneath him and staring up into the dark, penetrating eyes staring back at her. He began placing feathery kisses on her face, starting on her forehead and slowly, methodically moving downward. When his mouth reached her breasts, his tongue latched on to a nipple and began teasing it with his tongue, nibbling sensuously with his teeth, nearly driving her over the edge only to snatch her back before she could fall.

  She couldn’t help noticing that one of his hands was moving lower down her body. When it got to the area between her thighs, she spread her legs open for him. She felt his finger inch inside of her and fought back a guttural moan when another finger touched her clit. Then as if he wanted to show her what a great multitasker he was—like she didn’t already know—he began fingering her at the same time his mouth on her breasts was driving her insane.

  How was any man capable of giving a woman this much pleasure? Did he not know that he was almost killing her? Sending her mind spinning into one hell of a sexual frenzy? She figured that, even if he knew it, he really didn’t care. His intent was to strike while she was hot, and she was definitely on fire.

  His mouth let go of her nipples, and he used his tongue to trace a path down her body, greedily lapping her skin all the way down. When he began nibbling around her belly button, she thought she would go up in smoke then and there. And when he inched down farther on the sofa, he pulled back. Sitting on his knees, he lifted her legs over his shoulders.

  “Your shoulder,” she said, when one leg rested against the bandage.

  “My shoulder is fine,” he told her. Then he lowered his mouth to her. His tongue went straight for her clit, and he used it in ways that had her moaning and twitching around on the sofa, lifting her hips as pleasure ripped through every part of her body.

  Sexual sensations she would never get used to tore into her, gripping her in a sensual tailspin. Then she came, screaming his name at the top of her lungs as her body erupted in one hell of an explosion. He didn’t hold back. Instead he held tight to her hips, keeping his mouth firmly locked on her while lapping her up.

  He finally drew back and lowered her legs before moving his body upward to take her mouth, sharing the taste with her. Moments later he released her mouth to ease between her spread legs. The head of his erection was massive and slick and her body was ready for him. He held her hips steady as he slid inside of her. Leaning up, he took her mouth again, and as he began thrusting in and out of her, she noted that his tongue maintained the same rhythm as his body’s thrust. All she could do was moan in pleasure. Over and over he brought her to the brink only to snatch her back with harder thrusts.

  Suddenly her entire body splintered into a million pieces and she was propelled to sensuous oblivion. “Striker!”

  She felt his body jerk hard once, then twice. When he called out her name, she knew he had joined her in what had to be the most intense sexual mating between them ever.

  * * *

  “YOU’RE QUIET, STRIKER.”

  Striker glanced over at Margo as he eased back into his jeans. She was stretched out on the sofa, naked. It was taking all the control he could muster not to remove his clothes and take her again. But he couldn’t do that. Nor could he forget that his weakness for her was his downfall and he was here to deal with it in the only way he knew how. And that was by imposing distance between them.

  Instead of addressing her comment, he made one of his own. “Put your clothes on, Margo, and meet me in the kitchen.”

  She lifted a brow. “Okay.”

  If his tone and abrupt manner surprised her, there was no help for it. Not now. What had just happened only reinforced his belief that Margo Connelly was more than a weakness. She’d become an obsession, and Striker Jennings didn’t do obsessions. It didn’t matter that he loved her. What mattered was that, for his peace of mind, he couldn’t risk losing another person he loved. And because of his own lack of focus, he’d nearly lost her already.

  By the time she made it to the kitchen, he had poured both of them a cup of coffee and was sitting at the table waiting for her to join him. Casting him a curious glance, she sat down, took a sip and asked, “So, what do you want to talk about, Striker?”

  Before answering, he studied her features. Those belonged to the woman he loved to distraction. And that was the problem. Distraction. His lack of focus had nearly gotten them killed.

  He took a sip of his coffee. “I failed you.”

  She lifted a brow. “And just how do you think you failed me?”

  “I was hired by your uncle to protect you.”

  “And you don’t think you did? Look at me, Striker. I’m sitting here, sipping coffee and breathing, because of you. You saved my life.”

  He shook his head. “If I had been more focused, I could have foreseen the danger headed our way. I could have devised a plan to get you away from the cabin and—”

  “No, you wouldn’t have foreseen anything. I’m sure you’ve been informed about the tracking substance. Moving me someplace else would not have mattered.”

  “I could have set a trap for him and made sure you weren’t in any danger. I should have known my phone was blocked. The moment we got out of the shower I should have checked for calls. Hell, I shouldn’t have been in the shower with you in the first place. I literally screwed up. Botched things up to the fucking nth degree. You could have died because of me. And if you had died...”

  “I didn’t die, Striker. I’m alive because of you. You risked your life saving me. That fire—”

  “Should not have happened.”

  “But it did, and I’m alive. Why can’t you accept that?”

  Because he couldn’t, and it was time he made sure she understood why. “I failed before protecting people I loved, Margo. First Wade and then Mom. I should have been there for Wade. I was his big brother and I was supposed to watch over him while Mom worked nights. She depended on me to do that. Instead, because I didn’t want to miss any of my football practices, I encouraged Wade to go to that recreation center after school that had been established by cops. I thought it was a good way to make sure he didn’t get involved with any street gangs. After all, the cops were there all the time and they were the good guys, right?”

  He paused a minute. “And then with Mom, I should have been there for her. To make sure she took her meds. But I wasn’t. And now there’s you. I was supposed to protect you with my life, if necessary. Instead I placed you in even more danger.”

  * * *

  MARGO SAID NOTHING as she stared at Striker, wondering if he realized he had just admitted he loved her. She’d heard everything he said, and her heart went out to him for all his misplaced guilt. She wanted to tell him that she loved him and that they could work out whatever issues plagued him together. But for some reason, she believed he had a plan. One that didn’t include her.

  “So what are you saying, Striker? Are you trying to tell me that all those times you held me in your arms, made love to me, kissed me, tasted me...that you wished you hadn’t? That being with me wasn’t good for you? That I was a mistake?”

  “Yes.” Then, just as quickly, he said, “No.” He rubbed the top of his head and said in a frustrated tone, “Yes, I should feel that way, but there’s another part that won’t let me. And that’s the part I have to deal with.”

  “And how are you proposing to deal with it?”

  He paused a moment. “You no longer need protecting, so I plan to stay away from you for a while. At least until I can handle a few things.”

  Like your feelings for me? A part of her wanted to deny what he wanted. To say that staying away from her might be what he wanted but it wasn’t what she wanted. That together they could work out his issues and that distance between them was the last
thing they needed. What she wanted now was for them to do what they’d been robbed of doing and that was to behave like any other couple in love. She wanted them to spend time together without an element of danger lurking over them. Go out on dates, to the movies and dinner or do whatever they wanted to. She wouldn’t crowd him. She just wanted to be with him whenever she could. But she knew that loving someone also meant giving them space when they needed it. Hadn’t she explained that to her uncle when she’d left for college and then later when she’d relocated to New York?

  Now she had to believe it herself. She had to believe that Striker loved her as much as she loved him and that their love wouldn’t diminish with distance. “Is that what you want, Striker?”

  He shook his head. “No, but right now that’s the only way.”

  Margo could see that his mind was made up and there was no changing it. “Okay. Then just know this one thing.”

  “What?”

  “That I’ve fallen in love with you, Striker Jennings. And because I have, I’m willing to give you the time and distance you think you need. I hope that you’ll realize that love can solve any issue.”

  She could tell by the surprise that lit his eyes that he hadn’t expected her admission of love. Although he didn’t say he loved her, as well, the important thing was that she believed he did and that their love was stronger than any of those issues he was battling.

  He sat there for a minute and stared at her. Then, without saying anything, he stood and walked out of her kitchen. She held herself together until she heard the door close shut behind him.

  It was only then that she allowed her tears to flow.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Two weeks later

  STRIKER ADJUSTED THE aviator sunglasses on his face against the bright sun shining in through the car’s windshield. He had returned to Charlottesville and the first thing he intended to do was go see Margo. He had needed time and distance, and she’d given him both.

  Before leaving Charlottesville, he’d had a long talk with Sheppard, who agreed that he was carrying around misplaced guilt and, until he could let it go—all of it—he would always blame himself for what had happened while he’d been protecting Margo. As for his fear of losing someone he loved, Striker now saw, thanks to Sheppard, that life was a gamble, it wasn’t meant to last forever, individuals should appreciate whatever time they had with the people they loved, and they should think of living and not dying.

  Striker believed that returning to Little Rock had been the best thing for him. Visiting the old neighborhood had put a lot of things in perspective. He had visited the graves of his mom, Ray and Wade, and he had even stopped by his old high school, Little Rock Central. Coach Rivers was still there after all these years, and still had that old newspaper clipping framed on the wall, showing how Striker had led his football team to become national champions in his senior year.

  He had enjoyed talking with Coach Rivers. The man was still a motivator and inspiration. Striker had never gotten around to thanking the man for standing up for him, being at the trial each day and becoming a character witness on his behalf. The testimony of Coach Rivers, some of his other teachers and a few of his neighbors had been beneficial in Striker getting a lesser sentence.

  Thanks to Ray Jennings, they’d lived in a nice neighborhood and now a lot of the homes had been remodeled and were owned by a lot of preppies. He had walked his old neighborhood and was surprised to see many of the places he frequented as a kid were still there. Most had gotten a needed face-lift.

  Last but not least, he’d gone to see Lamar Guyton, the father who had never acknowledged Striker’s existence. It had taken him two days to find out the man had had a stroke a few years ago and was in a nursing home. Striker had gone to the nursing home to discover a man who couldn’t even feed himself. Striker had apologized to Lamar Guyton for hating him all those years. After the apology Striker had left.

  He had done a lot of soul-searching in Little Rock. He’d been able to walk away from his past and return to Charlottesville. To Margo. To his future. Sheppard had been right. Now he was ready to get on with his life, and more than anything, he wanted Margo in it. Of course, they wouldn’t rush things. He wanted to date her properly. Find out all those things she liked to do. What helped tremendously was knowing she loved him. She had told him so, and now it was time that he shared how he felt about her.

  He hadn’t let anyone know he was returning to Charlottesville today and hadn’t talked to Margo since walking out of her house two weeks ago. But he was back and he was more than ready to claim the woman he loved. He just hoped nothing had changed, and she still loved him as well.

  * * *

  “WHAT DO YOU mean you can’t do it? I paid you,” Liz almost screamed into the phone.

  “Look, lady, I know you paid me, but I need to be careful now. I don’t know who, but somebody is watching me. Possibly an undercover cop or something.”

  Liz didn’t like the sound of that. Maybe she should just back off and forget her revenge on Margo. But she’d had almost three weeks to stew. And seeing that photo in the society column of yesterday’s paper hadn’t helped. Frazier had taken another woman to some big charity bash this past weekend. The two of them had been smiling for the camera. How dare he see someone else this soon? The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to hurt Frazier and knew the only way was by doing something to his niece.

  “Fine. Just give me my money back.” The resounding click in her ear told her the man had hung up. She began cursing to the top of her lungs, and she placed the blame squarely on Frazier’s shoulders. First she would take care of his niece and then him.

  Pacing her apartment, she came up with a plan, one she could handle herself. Crossing the room to her bedroom, she opened the drawer to her nightstand. Pulling out the revolver she kept there, she dropped it in her purse and left.

  * * *

  MARGO PUSHED AWAY from the sewing machine and stood to work the kinks out of her neck. Claudine would be arriving any minute. She had finally gotten around to calling her yesterday and they had agreed to meet today. As usual, Claudine sounded chipper and said she couldn’t wait to see the progress Margo had made on her gown. Likewise, Margo was anxious to see the material Claudine had chosen for the lining.

  As she headed for the kitchen to pour another cup of coffee, she tried not to dwell on the fact that it had been two weeks since she’d heard from Striker. She knew he was out of town; Roland had told her that much when she’d asked about him. But Roland hadn’t said where he’d gone or when he would be back. She thought about him every morning when she got up and went to sleep dreaming about him at night. During the day she became enmeshed in her work, sometimes working from sunup to sundown on Claudine’s gown. She wished there was some way she could let Striker know that whatever demons he had to face he wouldn’t have to do it alone. He had her and her love.

  Maybe she should just leave well enough alone. Accept the fact that Striker had gone and there was a chance he might not come back. That he thought his issues were bigger than their love and that he didn’t love her enough to even want to prove otherwise.

  But she just refused to allow herself to believe that. He was the best thing to ever happen to her. All she had to do was think of the time she had wasted with Scott. She’d had to make a trip to the police station to give a statement regarding the attempted kidnapping, namely her conversations with Freddie Siskin. Thanks to Striker, both calls from Freddie had been recorded on her phone. Scott had called last week trying to convince her that he had tried talking Freddie out of his plans. In the end, Scott had lost his job because of his alleged involvement. She’d told him he should choose his friends more wisely and to never call her again. To be certain that she didn’t hear from him, she blocked his number. She wanted to put that part of her life behind her and build a future only wi
th Striker. But it would have to be his decision.

  Hearing the sound of the doorbell, she guessed it was Claudine, but she checked through the peephole to verify.

  She opened the door and smiled. “Claudine, it’s good seeing you.”

  “Same here,” Claudine said with a bubbly smile on her face. “And I can’t wait to show you the material for my lining.”

  Margo glanced past Claudine. “I don’t see your car.”

  Claudine chuckled. “Stan dropped me off. We have a lunch date with his parents to go over the guest list and he figured if he controlled the time I’m here then we wouldn’t be late meeting his parents. He gave me an hour and then he’s coming back to get me.”

  Margo grinned as she stepped aside for Claudine to enter. “He sounds like a man who knows you have a problem with time.”

  “So he claims.” Claudine then glanced around. “And where is that gorgeous hunk who was here the last time I came by? I believe his name was Lamar.”

  Margo told her the truth—at least what she did know. “He’s out of town.”

  “Oh, phooey. I was hoping to see him again. I like him.”

  I like him too, Margo thought. In fact, she loved him. Instead of saying anything about that, she led Claudine to her workroom. “I think you’ll like what I’ve done so far.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  They had walked into Margo’s workroom when suddenly there was a knock at her door. She looked at Claudine and smiled. “That’s not your fiancé coming back for you already, is it?”

  Claudine shook her head as if she was annoyed at the interruption. “I doubt it. He said he would give me an hour.” She then looked at Margo accusingly. “You didn’t book another appointment the same time as mine, did you?”

  Margo drew in a deep breath, knowing how Claudine liked being the center of attention. “No, Claudine, I didn’t double book. It’s probably someone selling something. I’ll get rid of them and be back.”