Black Satin (LS 675)

by Donna Kauffman

  The return of the nightmare two nights before had convinced Cole as nothing else could that, no matter the cost, he would not—could not—afford to react to Kira Douglass again. Yet one smart-ass response delivered through those wickedly curved lips, and he felt his carefully reconstructed walls shake as if they’d been made of papier-mâché. He did manage to restrain the urge to smile.

  He turned and strolled back down the hallway, forcing her to hurry if she wanted to keep up. That would get her mind off of what services she could purchase and back on the defensive. Just where he wanted her.

  “Wait a minute. Come back here.”

  Damn her. Was it too much to ask that she get offended predictably? But the smile surfaced anyway, safely hidden as his back was to her. He had every intention of stopping, but he walked a few more steps anyway. It wouldn’t do to give her even the slightest upper hand.

  “Any chance I could make a one-time payment for some breaking and entering?” she called out to him, apparently unaffected by his attempts to goad her. “Of course, I can only pay on delivery, since my purse is in my office on the other side of this locked door.”

  It wasn’t any use. He’d lost the battle before it had begun. Cole wiped the smile from his face, surprised at his reluctance to do so, then faced her. She was lounging casually against her office door, one trim ankle crossed over the other. He felt the heat center in his body. The scowl formed naturally. “Stop it, dammit!” he wanted to yell at her, shocked at how close he came to actually doing so.

  What was happening to him? He should never have let her get to him. He didn’t want this, didn’t need it. But apparently his mind and his body weren’t in total agreement on just what his needs and wants were. Bedding her and befriending her were on opposing sides as far as he was concerned. And it was rapidly becoming apparent that the trick was going to be finding a way to get one without committing himself to the other.

  He let his gaze rake insolently up her tanned and nicely toned legs to rest on the formfitting tank top that molded her equally nicely toned upper body.

  And he intended to bed her.

  He had to give her credit, her posture tensed as he drew closer, but she didn’t flinch or change positions. He wasted several seconds wondering what she’d do if he walked right up until his body was flush with hers and kissed her. Some small piece of sanity stopped him a few inches shy of that goal.

  “I don’t suppose you have a hairpin or credit card on you?”

  Kira’s eyes widened, and Cole had to glance down at the door to keep from smiling.

  “How good a smuggler were you, anyway? Didn’t they train you to do this sort of stuff a bit more … I don’t know. Never mind.”

  “Well, it seems I left home without my tools,” he responded sardonically. “I could have you inside in two seconds flat with nothing, but I didn’t think you’d appreciate having to repair the door.”

  She stood there silently, staring at him, and Cole cursed the questions he saw in her eyes. He had absolutely no intention of explaining his past to her or anyone else. She’d come to him; it was his trust that needed to be earned here. Still, a few carefully chosen words just might scare her enough to send those questions sailing from her mind.

  He turned and rested a shoulder on the door. A few inches to the left, and she’d be nestled under the crook of his arm. He bent down slowly, not stopping when she shifted her gaze to focus on the hallway in front of her. When he was a breath away from her ear, he whispered, “Sorry if I failed some test, but breaking and entering wasn’t part of my job description.” He waited several tense seconds, willing her to take the bait.

  “What exactly was your job description?”

  “You really want to know?” Damn, what was he trying to do? Give her another chance to say no? No, this was for the best. Before she could respond, he said, “Gunrunner.”

  He’d expected at least a trace of fear, maybe some revulsion, or at the very least, moral indignation. Instead, her eyes rounded, and she actually leaned closer to him. Maybe danger was a turn-on for her? Somehow he doubted it.

  “And you can’t pick a simple lock?”

  Cole felt the ludicrous urge to defend his former profession. Well, the part he’d told her about, anyway. Instead, he did what he did best. He let his actions speak for him. He turned his body toward her, forcing her to shift until she was between him and the door. He placed one palm on the doorframe slightly above her head and brought the other up between them. He made no effort to keep his hand from brushing casually across her breasts as he raised it up to her face. He combed a few windblown strands away from her forehead, silently locking her gaze with his. Then he let his fingertips drift along the plane of her cheek, down the curve of her chin, to rest lightly on the side of her neck. He watched as her pupils slowly expanded, edging over the tiny fractured light of her eyes, pressing his fingers a bit harder against the side of her neck as her pulse picked up speed.

  He’d meant to stay detached, to trap her in his gaze and then calmly inform her that with the right pressure, he could kill her instantly. But a soft, warm breath escaped her lips when he pressed his fingers against her pulse, and the last thing on his mind was scaring her. He wanted to stroke her, tease her, seduce her into giving some of that life force to him.

  And what he saw in her eyes told him he could have what he was so desperately beginning to crave.

  With the last shred of control he had, he forced himself to recall the actions he had set into motion less than twenty-four hours ago. Actions that precluded fogging his mind with passionate images, much less allowing his body to be depleted with an intense sexual encounter. And “intense” was a mild term for the explosion he expected to take place when he finally pushed himself into her body. No. It might very well be the last pleasure he allowed himself, and if he was to be damned for it, then it would be perfection or nothing.

  As casually as he could, he slid his finger from her throat to her shoulder, then drew it halfway down her arm. He got sidetracked tracing a lazy pattern on the soft underside of her elbow, but when he realized his mind was drifting back, he jerked his hand away. The motion seemed to startle Kira, but he quickly captured her chin.

  Telling himself he was only doing this so she’d think twice about provoking him, he slipped his other hand between her elbow and waist and lowered his mouth to hers.

  Whatever emotions Kira had detected flickering in the black depths of Cole’s eyes escaped her thoughts at his lightning-quick move. One minute he’d been lazily seducing her; the next thing she knew, her chin was captive to his large, callused palm, and her lips of his hot, hungry mouth. And damned if she didn’t like them both.

  Responding was not an issue, but a reality. Kira tried to temper the urge for enthusiasm that seemed to overwhelm her common sense by keeping her hands clenched into fists at her side. His tongue pushed into her mouth. Her palms itched like mad to dive into his thick black hair. He released her chin and pulled her tightly against him as he deepened the kiss. She used all the restraint she had in her body to keep from grinding her hips against his.

  But as his sensual assault on her mouth continued, she knew the battle was going to be a short-lived one. At this point, she couldn’t quite remember why she’d been fighting him in the first place. She felt like a slowly melting candle, with her tongue as the wick. Pleasure cascaded into her mouth as his tongue slid against hers. The heat his touch created seemed to pour down her throat and throughout her body until she finally had to grab at his shoulders for support.

  The urge to moan rose in her throat. She gave in and let herself relax against him. But her groan of passion became a squeal of fright when the door at her back gave way. As if he’d expected the sudden motion, Cole had pulled her tightly against him, his hand bracing the doorframe to keep them from falling.

  Before she could clearly assess what happened, his warm lips grazed her earlobe.

  “One office door open. And don’t worry, I consider
myself paid in fall.”

  Kira pulled out of his grasp, half-surprised when he let her go. Her other emotion felt something like disappointment, so she didn’t study that too closely. She was too busy trying to come up with an appropriately scathing reply. But she made the mistake of looking at him first.

  He was breathtaking. Literally. The impact of seeing Cole under the unforgiving fluorescent bulbs in her office left her breathless. The hard planes of his face were that much leaner, the blunt sensuality of his full lower lip that much more inviting. A thin scar ran across his forehead. In the darkness she’d thought it a natural crease.

  His black eyes, fringed with thick lashes that flashed almost a deep blue in the glare of fluorescent lights, fairly glowed as he looked back at her. She wanted to touch him, but when she lifted her hand, he shifted away. It was a slight movement. Barely more than a flex of a few muscles. So slight she might have missed the tiny reaction had she not been studying him so closely.

  His rejection of her touch instantly brought to mind what they had shared in the dimly lit hallway. She had been swept away by his caresses, but not completely. Given his comment just now, she had no doubt he’d set out intentionally to remind her what an unprincipled bastard he was. And she’d been crazy enough there for a moment to have taken the lesson to heart. But he’d made one rather crucial mistake in his otherwise flawless plan.

  He’d let her touch him.

  During that supposedly cool, calculated kiss, while he’d been skillfully jimmying open her door, literally behind her back, Cole had become involved enough in his seduction to let her touch him.

  Or had that been part of the plan?

  No. She didn’t think so. His instincts to pull away were too ingrained. She lifted her gaze back to his. There must have been something of what she was feeling in her expression, because his smug smile faded until his lips were pressed together in a hard, unforgiving line. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he was angry.

  But she was beginning to learn how to read him. He wasn’t angry. He was … unsettled. Still, there was only one way to be sure. Test the theory.

  So she said out loud the first thing she’d thought at looking at him in the full light of her office. “You’re breathtaking.”

  He shifted his weight almost imperceptibly onto the balls of his feet. Warm. She took a small step toward him. His eyes narrowed, intently focusing on hers, willing her to stop. Warmer. She smiled at him.

  “Kira.” He said her name in the manner of a wolf issuing a low growl to warn a foolhardy predator that it better seek its prey elsewhere.

  Hot.

  “Cole,” she responded, her eyes never leaving his. She took another minuscule step toward him, suddenly wanting more than anything to touch him. To stroke him and soothe whatever pain it was he harbored so closely and trusted no one to help him heal.

  Her gaze was drawn away from his eyes, which glittered now with a suppressed emotion she was helpless to name, by his hands, which were slowly clenching and unclenching.

  Her gaze shifted quickly back to his.

  Burning hot.

  Seemingly with a will of their own, her hands began to lift toward him. She was focused so intently on his eyes, wiling him to let her in, willing him to let her ease him in whatever way he was able to allow her to, that his sudden move took her by complete surprise.

  Like lightning, his hands shot out and grabbed her shoulders. Before she could blink, he’d whirled her around and pulled her back against him, his arms wrapped tightly in front of her, her own trapped beneath his.

  His heart pounded hard against her back; the heat radiating from his body was almost tangible. His breath was hot and alive on the sensitive skin of her neck. But most disconcerting was the raging need she felt pulsing against her lower back. She tried to take several steadying breaths and to keep from pressing her backside into him. She failed on both counts.

  He uttered a harsh oath in her ear, than captured her earlobe between his teeth. He pressed down, biting her gently, and Kira moaned.

  “Dear God in heaven, what did I ever do to deserve you?” he whispered into her ear.

  Kira didn’t know if she’d been cursed or praised. She couldn’t consider it too closely, though, because he’d begun to trace her ear with his tongue. “Cole, I—”

  “Hush.” He nuzzled her hair aside and kissed the bare patch of skin where her neck became her shoulder. His lips grazed her ear once more. “I’m only going to tell you this once, so listen to me. Don’t look at me like you want to heal me, sweet lips. Don’t make the mistake of thinking you can put your hands on me and make the hurt go away. You can’t.” He sucked her earlobe for a long moment, taking much of the harshness out of his words. “Not even you,” he whispered.

  SEVEN

  Kira began to tremble. The message was clear. So why wasn’t her body listening? Because her inner voice had heard the cry from Cole as clearly as it had heard Rio’s cry for P.J. The urge to touch Cole hadn’t been diminished by his warnings; it had only increased.

  She tried to relax inside the encompassing strength of his arms. As he waited for her response tension tightened his entire body into a hard, coiled mass behind her. She did the best she could. But it was another long moment before she dared to speak.

  “Is it so hard, Cole?”

  His lips were pressed against the side of her throat as he let out a pained laugh. “You have no idea.” His grip relaxed just slightly, and his lips gentled on her skin. “Yes, Kira, it’s that hard.”

  “You know you can trust me.” The words were quietly spoken, barely more than a whisper. His lips stilled.

  He squeezed her tightly for a long moment, but Kira didn’t mind. In fact, she reveled in the small gift of an honest emotion that was neither anger nor lust.

  “Trust has nothing to do with this, Kira.” As if sensing her retort, he reached up with one hand and pressed a rough finger against her lips. “I want the pain. I need it.” He took a deep breath and let his finger rub softly back and forth over her lower lip. “I’m not even sure I can let you give me your body.” She stiffened, but Cole continued. “Don’t offer me anything else, Kira. I’ll only turn you down. Save your strength and compassion for P.J. He needs it a lot more than I do, and he’ll sure as hell appreciate it more.”

  Kira let his words play around in her mind for a minute. Cole didn’t resume his slow assault of her neck. He’d all but stated that the only personal relationship he was willing to have with her was a physical one, and he’d barely consented to that. He’d made it excruciatingly clear that she would be the giver and he the taker. If she could handle that, then he was ready, willing, and most certainly able. But the decision would be hers.

  Dear Lord, she prayed silently, when the time comes, let me make the right one. Out loud she said, “I think maybe it’s time we went out and introduced you to the other dolphins.”

  Cole apparently took her quiet statement to mean that she’d chosen to restrict their relationship to business, at least for now. Without another word he released her and stepped away. He stood in the open doorway with one hand on the knob.

  Kira grabbed her purse and flicked off the light. She paused briefly and looked at Cole, his lean face once again cast in half shadows, then scooted past him, making certain she didn’t brush against him in even the most innocent way.

  When she didn’t hear him close the door behind her, she turned back. He was still lounging in the doorway, his lips curved in that crooked half smile of his. So, the test in the doorway had been intentional. She headed on down the hall. “Don’t bother locking it,” she tossed over her shoulder, “I don’t think I can afford the locksmith.”

  She was rewarded with a low chuckle.

  Smiling, she swung her purse as she pushed through the door and headed for the water.

  The night air was heavy, hot, almost oppressive. Kira dropped her purse on the counter of the equipment shack and flipped on the two floodlights directed at the
cove. The intense white beams transformed the area into a brilliant false daylight. Kira switched them back off. The moon was fairly bright, with no clouds to speak of. Lots of stars.

  Much better.

  Without turning to see if Cole had caught up with her, she strolled down the central pier toward the platform anchored at the opposite end. It was at water level and was the base of operations when they worked with both the dolphins and children. Leaning on the railing at the other end, she knew immediately when Cole stepped onto the wooden planks behind her, though as usual he was as soundless as a jungle cat. She simply felt him.

  As she sensed him nearing her she pointed toward a pair of fins slicing through the water several yards away. “That’s Cutter on the left and Old Joe on the right.”

  Cole stopped directly beside her, leaning his forearms on the railing. She didn’t turn to look at him, but from the corner of her eye, he appeared to be looking at the approaching dolphins.

  “How can you tell them apart?”

  Kira repressed a shiver at the rough sound of his voice. Would there ever be a time when he didn’t affect her so … viscerally? Yes, came the immediate answer. As soon as she got P.J. back. After that, she’d never be disturbed by that deep voice again. She kept her gaze steady on the water. “Old Joe has a nick on his dorsal fin. In the daylight he’s also a darker shade of gray than Cutter.”

  “So how do you know that’s Cutter with him and not Rio?”

  Kira’s shoulders slumped slightly at the mention of Rio. “Because Cutter always pals around with Old Joe when the females aren’t in this part of the cove.”

  “And?”

  She turned to him, surprised that he’d picked up on her distress. “And because Rio hasn’t left the gate to the canal since yesterday morning.”

  “Is he in imminent danger?”

  She turned her attention back to the dolphins. “Paul rowed a boat out to him twice and fed him. He didn’t eat much.”