Over the Edge

by Jeanie London; Leslie Kelly

  “So which was it, stall or distract?”

  Each lazy stroke made that need sizzle low in her belly and her knees grow a little weaker. “Both.”

  “You succeeded.”

  She also liked that he admitted it openly. No pretenses. No delicate male ego needing to be propped up with lies. “Am I distracting you now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  “Am I stalling you?” he asked.

  “Yes, but I don’t understand why. You want me.”

  He inclined his head in a gesture she found almost regal in its certainty. “I do.”

  “Then why resist?”

  “I’m not. I just haven’t decided to take you up on your offer yet. I want to understand what you hope to accomplish.”

  With her fingers wrapped around his tie, she forced him to lower his head until she could whisper in his ear. “Orgasm.”

  The effect of that word was visible. His expensive suit didn’t conceal the way his chest rose and fell with a ragged breath, didn’t hide the shudder that rocked his body and brought to mind an image of a big cat purring.

  She wanted to press against him, feel the contrast of fine silk and hard muscle against her naked skin. She wanted to feel the vibration when his breath rumbled deep in his chest. She wanted to become intimately acquainted with the erection that kept drawing her gaze, fascinating her with its sheer proportions.

  She wanted this man a little too much.

  Loosening her grip on his tie, she let him retreat, put some much-needed distance between them.

  “How about following your impulse, Jake? Let’s finish what we started ten years ago.”

  “Do you think you can combine business with pleasure and not sacrifice one for the other?”

  “There’s no think about it.”

  He arched a tawny brow and those warm eyes regarded her steadily. “You don’t expect me to be much of a challenge.”

  “Why should you be? We’re attracted to each other. We have chemistry. Unlike the last time we met, we’re both of consenting ages and uninvolved. Do you have something against having fun? I think we’ll be good together.”

  “You know for a fact I’m uninvolved?”

  He was still trying to gauge her, and she saw no reason to withhold what he wanted. He’d been equally forthcoming. “It’s standard procedure for me to research potential clients.”

  “Do you usually find out about their personal lives?”

  “Not usually. I wanted to know about you. I was surprised when you contacted me. I wanted to figure out if you knew I was the woman inside the warehouse that night.”

  “The thief inside the warehouse, you mean.”

  She conceded with a nod. “The thief.”

  Mallory recognized his pleasure in the way he schooled his expression to conceal it, in the way he steeled those wide shoulders as if defending himself from the effect she had on him. He liked that she didn’t shy from the truth, and that she’d made the effort to learn about him, whether he admitted it aloud or not.

  “Do you know what I found out about you, Jake?” When he didn’t reply, she continued. “I found out that you’re on the fast track to a heart attack.”

  “You think so?”

  “I do.”

  She’d also learned that he’d dated quite a number of very beautiful and eligible women, but none of his relationships ever lasted long. “I want to know if all work and no play makes Jake a dull boy.”

  Jake frowned and Mallory would have bet the top-end fee she’d quoted him that he’d heard this accusation before.

  And hadn’t liked it one bit.

  She pressed her advantage. “I also found out you vote in every election, even the primaries, and volunteer at the polls. You always buy from the neighborhood kids to support their school fund-raisers, and TSS sponsors an impressive roster of Little League teams. You’re a perfectly upstanding moral citizen.”

  Self-righteous was more like it, as Mallory had learned firsthand ten years ago, but she kept that thought to herself. She didn’t want even to hint that she might hold a grudge and interject that sort of baggage into their relationship.

  “Climbing into the shower with a woman of my moral fiber will be a whole new experience for you. An adventure.”

  To her surprise his frown faded and he laughed, a sound of such genuine amusement that she frowned. “Why do you need me to prove myself? Is it because you’re trying to convince yourself I’m worthy?”

  He squeezed her nipple again. Her sex clenched in response and she trembled.

  “Why does it bother you that you want me, Mallory?”

  There was no denying his assertion. Her breasts had grown heavy and tight. Her nipples speared toward his hand, begging for attention. Her knees were so weak she’d be swaying like a drunk if not for his hand on her, a point of contact every nerve in her body seemed wired to.

  But how could he know about her conflict? Did he sense it? Or was she not nearly so composed as she’d hoped to be?

  “I kissed you, remember?” She sounded defensive but hadn’t meant to, which argued strongly that she was revealing a good bit more than she’d intended. This man was blowing all her intentions straight to hell. Not good.

  “I’ve been remembering your kiss for ten years.”

  His admission was a whole lot more than a taunting declaration. There was substance to those words, an emotional context that seemed to come easily to him, but made her question exactly what he meant.

  When had he remembered? In the light of day, when he could feel smug for catching a thief? Or at night in the dark, where they’d first encountered each other and kissed? Or did he think about her at any odd hour, as she often thought about him?

  Stepping back, Mallory removed herself from his line of fire, her breast sliding from his grasp. Uncomfortable with the direction her thoughts were taking, she needed to figure out why she was getting contemplative. She needed to regroup.

  Leaning into the spray, she shut off the water and considered how to refocus and regain control of this seduction. She didn’t want to be distracted by her conflicting feelings for him right now. She wanted to savor the sensations he coaxed from her body, wanted to carry out her sexy revenge and work this man out of her system once and for all.

  But the thought had no sooner crossed her mind than he grabbed her, his big powerful arms lashing around her as he dragged her out of the shower before she had a chance to react.

  Suddenly he swung her up into his arms, anchoring her against his chest, heedless of the water sluicing all over him.

  “I’ll take you up on your offer.”

  Mallory didn’t have a chance to respond before they were in motion. She slipped her arms around his neck to steady herself as he maneuvered her out of the bathroom.

  The man knew exactly where he was heading. Without another word he strode across her suite, deposited her in a wet bundle in the middle of her bed. But he didn’t join her. He stood there, staring down at her with those serious eyes.

  “Got condoms?” he asked.

  Mallory rolled to the opposite side of the bed, not caring that her hair dripped all over the silk comforter. She pulled open the night table drawer to reveal the variety of condoms she’d stored there with the specific intention of inviting him to visit. Not that she’d admit that aloud. Let him think she needed to keep a bulk supply handy, which seemed particularly significant since he apparently didn’t have one on him.

  “A buffet of protection.” She’d heard the line in a movie once and it seemed to satisfy him. He nodded and shrugged off his jacket with a casual roll of those broad shoulders.

  Grabbing a few of the foil packets, she tossed them onto her pillows before scooting back down on the bed. His gaze never left her, and Mallory found herself feeling very naked, a physical sensation that made every inch of her bare skin tingle in the air, made each drip from her wet hair glide down her back in slow motion.

  “Let me help.” Sh
e preferred participation to playing the spectator.

  Some flicker in his gaze made her guess that her request pleased him. He took a step toward the bed, occupying himself with the buttons on his cuffs, while she tackled his tie.

  She rose to her knees, and they were suddenly so close she could feel the heat radiating from his skin, even through his shirt. A hint of some sexy aftershave mingled with the scent that was all him—masculine, scrumptious male—an ambrosia that penetrated her senses and added to the experience of this man.

  Even kneeling on the bed, the top of her head only reached his chin and she had to tip her head back to look into his face. He had a striking face, all strong planes and angles, a face saved from true ruggedness by the sculpted lines of his mouth and those soulful brown eyes.

  His body, however, wasn’t spared the same fate. After his shirt and tie had been relegated to a heap on the floor, Mallory was treated to the sight of that chest in all its glory as he dragged the undershirt over his head, a breathtaking display of shifting muscle and masculine brawn.

  There was nothing small about this man. Not his broad, broad shoulders. Not his powerful arms. Not even his hands, which were long and square-fingered and strong.

  He was rugged in a way that was all grace, as if all his coarse edges had been buffed away. Or maybe it was simply that his golden skin and hair made him seem that way.

  But something about the sight of his naked chest made her feel her own nakedness more keenly than ever. Perhaps it was anticipation that heightened her senses. She wanted to feel that hot tanned skin close, the crisp blond hairs brushing her nipples, that lean waist beneath her curious fingers.

  Her hands trembled as she reached for his belt.

  He assisted by unfastening his button and zipper and then he was shoving his slacks down. His hands tangled with hers as they maneuvered his erection from its soft cotton prison, both of them stunned into a speechlessness so silent it was reverent.

  Ten years of waiting had been long enough to build the expectation to the breaking point. And she certainly felt close to the edge as he dragged his underwear and socks away, treating her to an up close and personal view of the whole package.

  Wow. Her heart did this crazy sort of flip-flopping thing, missing a beat entirely. Jake Trinity was almost too gorgeous to be real and suddenly the impressive roster of women he’d dated made sense. Women would be attracted to this man. Just as she’d been. He was nearly too gorgeous, too masculine, too larger-than-life, but his calm, almost serious demeanor made him seem unaware of his looks and the effect they had on the opposite sex in a way that was just too appealing.

  When he shed his glasses, his clothes and his professional persona, the real man emerged, a man who’d been blessed with a body that had been designed for sex. She paused with her hands hovering over his chest, his body heat spanning the distance to sink into her skin like a laser.

  “May I?” she asked, although she didn’t expect him to deny her. But there was something polite, necessary even, about the formality of gaining his permission before she went on a research expedition of his body.

  He inclined his head, a studied motion that suggested he’d been waiting ten years for her to ask.

  She’d been waiting, too. For ten years she’d wondered who this man really was, who he was growing up to be, had been alternately fascinated and repelled by him, and by herself because she’d so badly wanted to know.

  Now finally, finally…

  Threading her fingertips through the dark-gold hairs on his chest, she explored the terrain of muscle beneath warm skin. She splayed her hands upward over hard pecs, along the expanse of broad shoulders, down sculpted, powerful arms. The simple act of touching was an unusually potent experience given the years behind the need, given the sheer beauty of the man she touched.

  Silky hairs trickled to a V beneath his belly button, a golden arrow pointing downward to the breathtaking region below his waist…lean hips, muscular thighs, incredible erection.

  He was so…solid. Not just his equipment, but the whole deal. He was a man who could protect a woman from the world with his powerful body.

  If a woman wanted to be protected.

  Mallory wasn’t the need-to-be-protected kind, but rather the live-for-the-moment, savor-his-gorgeous-body variety. She was a woman with a healthy sexual appetite and she hadn’t made time for a lover in quite a while.

  Jake Trinity was a feast.

  Her own breathing grew shallow, echoing in the quiet as she smoothed her hands down his waist, then ventured around to explore the feel of his muscular, perfectly shaped butt.

  She almost wished he would say something to drown out the sounds of their excited breaths. But he only stood before her, legs braced apart, tolerantly allowing her to indulge her curiosity, which made her wonder what he would want in return for his patience.

  Brushing her fingers down his thighs, she circled around to the front of him, lightly grazing the underside of his scrotum, then stroking the hard length of an erection that was no less impressive than the rest of him.

  A huge shiver made him sway before her and his erection jumped in her hand, but he demonstrated an imposing willpower because he still didn’t say a word or try to touch her.

  The moment stretched with promise, a breathless moment where anything might be possible, where thoughts of sex and surrender and satisfaction all jumbled together in an almost visceral way.

  Her heartbeat fluttered wildly again at the thought of him wedging that hard body between her thighs, at this magnificent length pressing deep inside her, filling emptiness with heat.

  Her nipples beaded and her sex grew creamy wet. She wanted to lean forward and press herself against all this hot male bounty, feel her curves mesh with his, feel that erection brand the moist skin between her thighs.

  She wanted to look into his face, to see if he was similarly affected, but she resisted, unwilling to let him glimpse the raw need she wasn’t quite sure she successfully hid.

  Sweeping the mass of wet hair behind her shoulder, she leaned forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to the pulse beating low in his throat instead.

  The contact of her mouth against his skin was the fuse that detonated his restraint. All of a sudden he seemed to explode. His strong arms lashed around her like whipcords. He scooped her beneath him with a violence of motion that took her off guard.

  By the time she realized what was happening, she was lying on her back with his knee across her thighs, his heavy leg anchoring her to the mattress.

  He’d done it again—totally taken her by surprise with that scoop-her-up-when-she-least-expected-it thing. A function of their disparate sizes, she supposed. A unique sensation and one she found stimulating. There was something so unfamiliar, so tantalizing about his power to assume control.

  He brushed his palm across her nipples, a slow, very sensual motion, as if he wanted to draw out the moment, to savor every second of the way they speared toward his touch.

  Then Mallory got her wish. With her cheek pressed to his chest, she could hear the rumble start deep inside, a purring that nearly drowned out the steady thud of his heart. She couldn’t resist tipping her head back to look into his face, see if his expression mirrored that rumbling sound of contentment.

  And the look on Jake Trinity’s face, the reckless hunger, the yearning, just might have gone a long way toward satisfying her need for vengeance—if she hadn’t been feeling a similar reckless hunger and yearning for him.

  4

  JAKE STILL didn’t have a clue about Mallory’s agenda but he’d reached his limit for her teasing. Denying her, and himself, wasn’t going to yield anything more than frustration. He’d play her game and fight fire with fire to see if he couldn’t shake loose the truth that way.

  Orgasm. Her breathy whisper resonated in his memory. Had she meant it? He intended to find out.

  Stretching out on her bed, Jake hauled her toward him, appreciating her size that gave him the advantage o
f maneuverability. He liked hearing her gasp in surprise as every inch of her slick wet skin unfolded against him. Her breasts pressed against his side. Her thighs parted around his hip, cradling him in lush warmth and acquainting him with her most private places.

  She arched her hips, a movement so slight Jake thought he might have imagined it—until silky hairs abraded his skin. Until her moist folds separated to brand him with her heat.

  Until she sighed aloud.

  He chased that velvet sound with his thumb, traced her full bottom lip. Dazzling white teeth suddenly appeared between her kiss-swollen lips, and she caught his thumb soundly and nipped hard, a challenge flashing in her clear green eyes.

  “So here we are, Jake Trinity. In bed. Naked.”

  She exhaled the word, a sound that whispered through him alive with promise. So here they were. Skimming a hand along the curve of her shoulder, down the sweep of her arm, he tested the reality of her, explored her shape, her texture.

  “Definitely naked.”

  She fluttered a pale hand over his chest as though she meant to explore, too. He inhaled deeply, taking in the fresh scent of her damp hair, aware of her on so many levels that he experienced a strange sense of unreality to be lying in this woman’s bed, with her draped naked around him.

  Ten years was a long time to fantasize about what lay hidden beneath a ski mask.

  This woman had been worth every second of the wait.

  She stretched out before him, a lush terrain of creamy skin and slim curves, her red mouth pursed for his kisses, her rosy nipples pouting for his touch.

  The sunlight from the huge windows slanted across their bodies, reflected by the long framed mirror behind the bed, a trick of light that highlighted the swaying of Mallory’s sleek body, the way she rode his thigh with the slightest motion, warmed his skin with her heat.

  Her hand continued a path over his stomach and Jake smiled at the way his muscles quavered at her light touches.

  “Mmm, who do we have here?”

  Her fingers zeroed right in on his erection, which jumped toward her hand, eager to make her acquaintance. A smile curved her lips and she brushed her palm along his shaft, a delicate touch that made his chest heave to release a trapped breath, a ragged sound that echoed in the sun-soaked quiet.