Winning Moves

by Lisa Renee Jones

  “Yeah, I’m in a towel about to give a peep show.” He started pulling her down the hall and mumbled under his breath, “Which I have you to thank for.”

  “Ouch,” she complained behind him. “You’re hurting me.”

  He knew damn well he wasn’t hurting anything but her pride. And that was lucky for her, but then, he wasn’t through yet. Using one foot, he kicked open the door, and then reached up and flipped the latch, pulling Nicole inside the room. He used his foot again to make sure the door shut behind him.

  Nicole tugged on her arm, leaning away from him as if to leverage herself. “Let. Me. Go.”

  He did the opposite. He yanked her to him, anchoring her against his body, palm against her lower back. Her body, soft and curvy, pressed into his. He prayed for patience. “Por, Dios, da me paciencia.”

  Palms flat on his chest, she glared at him. “Stop cussing at me in Spanish! If you have something to say, then you can say it in English.”

  “I didn’t curse you. I simply asked God to give me the patience to deal with you.”

  “What?” she roared back. “I’m the one who needs patience. You’re being a complete jerk. My sister is leaving Hawaii in the morning. I have to stop her from boarding that plane.”

  “I asked you to wait long enough for me to get out of the shower. I’ve risked my life for you over and over, and you can’t wait for me to get out of the shower before you make that phone call? A few seconds was too much to ask?” His chest lifted with a hard inhalation that he quickly expelled. “You’re driving me to insanity, woman.”

  “And you’re such a joy, let me tell you!”

  He knew he was overreacting, but somehow, quite out of character, he couldn’t stop himself from doing so. He started toward the bed, but she dug her heels in. He pulled her tight against his body again, more than a bit irritated, and completely out of patience, hands cupping her round ass as he lifted her from the ground.

  The act put her flat against his body, and his cock flared to life, the towel barely clinging to his hips. Her breasts pressed into his bare chest. She wore no bra, and he could feel her nipples as surely as he could her ass in his hands. Inwardly he cursed his lack of control. The heat of anger began to merge with the raging call of desire.

  “Put me down,” she admonished near his ear. A plea slipped into her voice. “Stop acting like this. Stop being—”

  Her sentence was cut short by her back hitting the mattress. Constantine straddled her hips, his hands going to her wrists, holding them above her head. She struggled for a good minute before stilling. There was no chance she could get free and she knew it. He was bigger and stronger, and just as determined to hold her down as she was to get up.

  His face was close to hers, his gaze latching on to hers with purpose, letting her see deep into the depths of his stare, letting her see how far she’d pushed him.

  Take a deep, hard look, sweetheart. See what you’ve unleashed in me. See the stranger I don’t even know as myself.

  “Constantine,” she whispered, soft desperation in her voice. But he was still too damn mad to back down, and she deserved to feel the brunt of it. But damn it, his gaze dropped to her mouth, to those full, perfect lips as they quivered. The desire to kiss her, hold her and touch her rose within him like a caged beast demanding freedom. He wanted to take her right now, to find his way inside her, to dispel all the emotion he felt, inside the warm, wet heat of her body.

  But he also knew he needed space, needed to clear his head. Needed to stay mad and deal with the real safety issues. His towel slid from his hips; the will to get off Nicole and walk away slid with it.

  18

  CONSTANTINE WAS DESPERATE to resist claiming Nicole. But he kissed her, capturing her mouth with his, branding her lips with fiery need. Instantly, she submitted to him, and he silently reveled in the victory of her response.

  But her submission was short-lived. Nicole tore her mouth from his, her hands pressing on his bare chest, her touch teasing him with the possibility of all the places they might travel. “No,” she whispered, her words desperate, laden with desire. “I want you, but not like this. Not when you’re angry for no reason.”

  He rested on his elbows, one on either side of her, and stared into her eyes. “You scared the hell out of me.” His voice was husky, with a gravelly tone he barely recognized as his own.

  Confusion flashed across her features. “I thought your job didn’t allow for emotional responses. That sounds emotional to me. You told that patrolman—”

  He’d come that far, he might as well go all the way. “You’re not simply a part of my job, Nicole. Not anymore.” His fingers brushed her cheek, tenderness welling inside him…tenderness driving him insane with unfamiliar feelings. He didn’t want to care about her, but there seemed no way to hide, nowhere to run.

  Sliding her small wrists above her head, he easily enclosed them in one of his larger hands. Her chest rose and fell, drawing his eyes to her deliciously peaked nipples, his cock throbbing, demanding satisfaction. He searched her face for a reaction.

  Heat and defiance glinted in her eyes. “Holding on to someone like this, who is claustrophobic, is a good way to see the claws come out,” she warned.

  He considered her words, his free hand sliding over her arms, her neck, her breasts. She sucked in a breath as he lightly tweaked her nipple through the thin material of her T-shirt. “I know you explored the kinky side of sex with your ex. You mean to tell me you were never tied up?”

  “Never.”

  “You didn’t trust him.”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “Handing over complete control requires trust.” He molded her breast more fully to his palm, bringing his lips to hers.

  “I trust you,” she murmured against his mouth, opening to allow his tongue to delve in for a quick sensual stroke.

  “You trust me to some degree, but not fully.” He released her arms to make a point.

  A flare of fire in her eyes turned to confusion and then disappeared behind a mask of seductive play. “And if I wanted to tie you up? Would you let me?”

  “Trust is a two-way street, sweetheart. If you don’t give it freely, you don’t get it freely.” His hand slid up her shirt. “Take this off.”

  “I trust you,” she argued, pulling her shirt over her head.

  He worked her pants down her hips and tossed them aside. He spread her legs, running his palms up her toned calves, over her knees, and then settled his hands on her thighs. He inched her legs farther apart, and she willingly opened to him.

  Yes. There was some trust—trust within limits. She no longer demanded complete control, no longer needed the edge of power to enjoy his pleasuring her.

  He slid his finger along the center of her core, and she whimpered softly. “You’re wet for me.”

  “Yes,” came the barely there reply, her voice growing stronger as she added, “And I shouldn’t be. Not after you acted like a caveman dragging me into the room like you did.”

  Ah, and there it was, a hint of vulnerability he’d seen in her during their lovemaking. The fear that she was giving him too much, not holding back enough. He settled his erection in the sweet heat of her core, determined to kiss away whatever emotion drove her to throw up a shield.

  His hands slid to her face; the feel of her soft curves pressed into his body was heaven in the middle of all the hell. “It’s okay to want me, you know.”

  Her bottom lip trembled. She started to speak. Stopped. Started again. “You were right.” The confession came in a shaky voice, a rarity for her, he was certain. She continued, “You do scare me. You scare the hell out of me. You make me question all the things I thought I knew and understood. You make me want things I shouldn’t want.”

  “And you,” he proclaimed, offering his own confession, “make me question everything I thought I wanted.”

  Silence—intense, full of sexual energy and emotion—fell between them then, their eyes
locked in a soul-deep stare. On some gut level, he knew meeting Nicole was life-changing. She had touched him on a level he’d never fully recover from.

  They moved then, together—at the same moment. They were kissing, crazy hot kissing, lost in the passion, consumed by the complete utter need for one another. Nothing mattered but here and now. He had tried to sate his desire to touch her soft skin, inhale that soft feminine scent, but nothing worked. He simply couldn’t get enough of her, and he wondered if he ever would. Doubted that he ever could. She moved with equal, frenzied need, pressing close, arching into him. She felt what he did. Felt the burn he couldn’t escape.

  He realized then that all the obstacles between them had disappeared. What was left sent him over the edge, outside of reality. There were a million reasons why anything real between them couldn’t work. His life and her life conflicted in far too many ways. He couldn’t have her. But he could have her tonight, these few weeks—a stolen piece of time.

  He took her then, finding his way inside her body, thrusting his cock deep inside the wet heat of her core. She gasped and clung to him, her lips and teeth nipping at his shoulder with delicious results he felt from head to foot.

  Driven to see the passion in her face as he made love to her, he leaned back, staring down at her. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her mouth swollen from his kisses. Slowly, he teased them both as he pulled out all but the head of his erection. “Constantine,” she pleaded.

  A plea that reached deep inside him, demanding a response. He lunged into her then, burying himself to the hilt, pulling back and repeating the action. Her breasts bounced and she covered them with her hands, kneading.

  He craved her taste, reveled in her beauty, her touch. Her hands slid from her breasts to his shoulders, his neck. He was pumping and rocking, her legs wrapped around his, her hips cradling his.

  “More,” she cried out. “More.” But he wasn’t sure how to fulfill her need, his need. Never in his life had he felt so lost in a woman, so impossibly in need of complete possession. That possession, however, that completeness, somehow lingered out of reach.

  Long moments they pumped, together, then stilled, staring at one another, and he saw in her what he felt in himself. They were both confused by the array of emotions, of pleasures rushing through them.

  Her hair was wild around her heart-shaped face, her lips parted, waiting for him. “Damn, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, his mouth lowering to claim hers, his hands reaching beneath her backside, pulling her tighter against him. He angled her hips as he pumped some more, and she took more…begged for more. Until finally, too soon, not soon enough, she shattered—tense for seconds before her body jerked into release.

  He still rode her, watching her, enthralled by the sight of her coming. Holding himself back, he waited until he knew she was completely satisfied. When her body began to ease, then, and only then, did he begin to allow his own final pleasure to consume him. He shattered much as she had, shaking with the intensity, stars before his eyes.

  When finally his muscles eased, his release complete, they collapsed together, his head buried in her neck. He was still semi-hard, the massive orgasm he’d spilled inside her nowhere near enough to satisfy him. He didn’t want to let go of her; he thought maybe he’d roll her on top and do that all over again.

  The tempting idea was ended by Nicole’s panicky voice. “Oh, my sister. I have to stop her from getting on that plane.”

  He leaned up on his elbows. “We’ll stop her.” Reluctantly, he rolled off her and hunted down his towel before handing it to her. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  Nicole explained the situation, and Constantine shook his head. “I know he’s your father, Nicole, but—”

  Lifting a staying hand, she cut him off. “I know. He doesn’t act as if he is. The man had the nerve to tell Brenda I’m a coward for hiding, and that she shouldn’t be one, too. Criminal law involves criminals, he told her. If she can’t deal with those people without hiding, she doesn’t belong in criminal law.”

  He didn’t know what to say to such a blatant insult aimed at Nicole, and from her father to boot. “Your mother? What does she think of all of this? Isn’t she worried?”

  “My mother doesn’t put a sentence together my father doesn’t form. My father will convince her this is all melodrama. That he has security if my sister needs it. I just want her away, safe. At least until some of this heat calms.”

  He watched as Nicole climbed under the sheet and pulled it to her neck as if she sought the safety of a shield—beyond her mental barriers this time. Her parents’ attitude blew him away. Death might have claimed his family, but they’d all loved him, and he, them. She had no one but her sister, it seemed. Which offered yet another explanation—why she’d run out into that hall without waiting for him.

  “I’ll handle this,” he told her, determined to make this go away for her. He reached for the phone and punched Redial, hoping for a signal, and finding one.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “Your sister,” he said.

  Her eyes went wide, but before she could object, Brenda answered. “Nicole! Is that you? Are you okay?”

  “Nicole is fine,” he replied. “She’s right here beside me. Brenda, this is Agent Constantine Vega.”

  “What’s wrong?” Brenda demanded. “Are you sure Nicole is safe?”

  “Yes, she’s safe.” He didn’t look at Nicole because he was about to share some harsh words with her sister. “Your safety is the concern, and I’m not going to mince words here. The man hunting your sister means to kill her. He’ll use anyone he can to get to her, but he prefers pretty women as targets. He’ll do his homework. Probably already has. He knows how important you are to Nicole. If he gets his hands on you, he’ll be brutal because he enjoys pain. He’ll enjoy your pain. Stay where you are.”

  Silence. “I don’t know what to do. My father says—”

  “We aren’t dealing with your basic criminal type here. Believe me, far worse. Does your father want the death of both his daughters on his conscience?”

  More silence. “How is Nicole?”

  Constantine glanced at Nicole for the first time since the call started. Her knees were drawn to her chest, sheet clutched in her fist, apprehension etching her features.

  “She’s beyond worried for you. If you go home, I’ll have to tie her down to keep her here.” Nicole’s eyes went huge and he winked.

  “I know who you are. She told me. You’re the man from the bar.”

  He didn’t like that statement. “Stay where you are, Brenda.”

  She hesitated. “I’m going to catch all kinds of heck for this, but I’ll stay. Can I talk to Nicole?”

  “Yes.” He hesitated, though, eventually handing the phone to Nicole.

  Nicole talked to her sister for a minute and hung up. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you so very much.”

  He tugged the sheet away from her and pulled her into his arms. “Thank me in that shower I never finished. After that, I am fairly confident I’ll need to make love to you again.”

  He scooped her up. Standing with her in his arms, he carried her to the bathroom, a heated image playing in his head of what he planned to do to her once he got her there.

  * * *

  HOURS LATER, NICOLE woke, lying on her stomach. The room was dark, night having fallen during their sleep. She smiled to herself. Constantine’s hand was on her bare butt. Definitely a butt man.

  She sighed softly, thinking of the hours of lovemaking they’d shared. Lovemaking. His word, not hers. But what had happened between them had been far more fulfilling, far more potent than any sex she’d experienced before him. Indeed, lovemaking. What she’d had with her ex had been pure sex. This…this experience with Constantine ran deeper than simple pleasures of the body. It drew her into a mind-set where the rest of the world faded into a place she shared with only one other—with Constantine.

  Her mind traveled to his comments about trust. She d
id trust him. What he had done with her sister blew her away. He’d come through for her, protected Brenda and done so for her. Yes. She trusted him. Mostly. With her life. But with her heart? That thought brought her back to her fears.

  He scared her. No. Her reaction to him scared her. He reached inside her and saw everything she would hide from another. She didn’t want to be hurt. Letting him get too close would only make saying goodbye harder. He was wrong for her, but he felt so right. The questions he made her ask of herself were difficult, but somehow necessary.

  Here in Constantine’s arms, she had found a different sort of comfort. Yet something inside her screamed to run from this feeling, to push him away. He’d leave soon, this would all be over. Back to her life, back to alone.

  As if he read her thoughts, he pulled her into his arms, her back to his chest, into the shelter and out of the storm.

  19

  SILENCE FELL BETWEEN Nicole and Constantine as they prepared to leave the hotel room they’d called a safe zone for two weeks. The storm had long ago passed, danger had calmed as the hotel remained a secure hideaway. Knowing Flores was the leak had allowed communication to flow between her and her boss. Meanwhile, she and Constantine didn’t speak as they packed what few things they had to take with them. There was so much to say, yet they said nothing at all.

  They’d made love the night before. It had been passionate, heartfelt, perfect. She’d never felt this kind of connection to another person in her life. It was invigorating, exciting, scary as hell. She’d truthfully seen herself as a loner for the rest of her life, and perhaps she’d seen that in Constantine when she’d met him. What happened when two loners came together?

  She didn’t know. Maybe she needed to go home and find out if this was real. But there was no denying the idea that leaving this room and never feeling this way again burned a hole in her gut.