by Tawny Weber
This was just one more reason why Hunter was bad for her. He confused her body, her mind and her heart, dammit.
“Like I said.” He moved away from the wall he’d been leaning on, his face shadowed but his gorgeous body vividly clear in the pale light filtering through the window. Marni’s heart sped up again, this time spurred by passion rather than fear. “We have some unfinished business to take care of.”
What business?
Her anxiety intensified.
She glanced at her laptop, neat and tidy on the desk across the room. Even if he’d poked through it, he wouldn’t have found her Burns story or any notes. Once in college she’d had a breaking story about the various methods students used to cheat on their exams stolen from her computer. Losing that byline had taught her to keep everything close, that passwords were easy to crack and that when it came to breaking a story people would steal without compunction. She eyed her purse, where it lay in a sad heap on the floor, innocuously hiding a jump drive holding her story notes and the provocative draft she’d already written in a fake lipstick case.
She was sure he’d figured out she was a reporter. Was that why he was here? She bit her lip, wondering how fast she could run barefoot. Probably faster than if she were in heels, at least until she reached the pavement.
Or, her heart whispered, maybe he was here because he’d missed her. Maybe he’d disregarded her privacy, tracking her down because he couldn’t let things end between them. Perhaps he was as crazy about her as she was about him.
Yep. And the tooth fairy could be real and Santa might be chilling at the pole. A girl could always hope.
Marni wet her lips, not sure what to do if she wasn’t going to defend herself when he started flinging accusations.
So she did nothing, except wait.
“So?” he prompted, his smile on the wicked side of intimidating. As if he figured he just had to stand there and look sexy and she’d spill all of her secrets across his feet.
Marni lifted her chin, stubborn determination glossing over the ugly nerves.
“So, I’d think a man as sophisticated as you would have figured it out. Wake up, woman gone, affair over. One, two, three.” She ticked the countdown off with fingers that only shook a tiny bit. “I’d say the business is all finished, wouldn’t you?”
“Nah. I wouldn’t say that. I might say sneaking out is cowardly. Or I could outline a few etiquette basics, such as waiting until a guy gets his pants back on before you call it quits.” His words grew harder with each syllable, the smile gone as he leaned closer. Even with three feet separating them, Marni felt he was pushing right into her personal space.
She resisted the urge to back up. Instead, she dug her toes into the carpet, pretending they were holding her in place.
“I’m not playing this game,” she decided with a dismissive sniff.
“Babe, you already anted up. You can’t walk away now.”
“I already walked away. Consider it me folding, if you’d like,” she suggested with a stiff smile. She didn’t care if she sounded like a chicken. Why shouldn’t she? She was nervous enough to sprout feathers.
Then, in a move she’d never imagined from a man who held control with such a deft hand, Hunter lost it.
Before she could blink, he stormed across the room, kicking the chair out of the way. She didn’t even have a chance to uncurl her toes and turn to run before he grabbed her by the arms and lifted her off her feet.
Marni squeaked. Now her toes were grabbing at air.
“We aren’t finished yet,” he growled, his minty breath washing over her face.
“Finished? With what? Were you shorted an orgasm or two? One more obscure sexual position suddenly occurred to you and you felt cheated by not getting to try it out?” The words tumbled past Marni’s lips so fast, she sounded like she was stuttering. As if the faster she talked, the sooner she’d find solid ground. “We’d reached San Francisco, Hunter. The end of the line. What could you possibly think we still had to finish?”
Besides honesty, forthright truths about their jobs and the case he was currently testifying on, of course. But she swallowed those options along with a tiny whimper of pleasure as he pressed her back against the wall.
Frustration tightened his face, his eyes narrow and his jaw clenched. Fury flashed like a lightning storm, fast, intense and fascinating.
Her heart raced, and her body melted. Because even that sudden fear carried a sexual edge, deep and needy.
“What do we have to finish?” he repeated, his words so low she felt them rather than heard them. “This.”
* * *
HUNTER TOOK MARNI’S mouth with vicious greed. He had to have her. And he’d be damned if he’d take no for an answer.
All of the frustrations, all of the fury and hurt and betrayal he felt was channeled into that meeting of their lips. It was too raw, too greedy to be called a kiss. It was too carnal to walk away from.
After a second of shocked hesitation, she moaned against his lips, then tunneled her fingers through his hair, holding tight. She tried to shift, wriggling her body between the hard—and getting harder by the second—body and the wall. Other than enjoying the hell out of the results on his own body, Hunter ignored her squirms. Then she slid one leg, still a half foot off the ground, along his. Her bare foot arched along his thigh, then wrapped around so her heel dug into his butt cheek.
He exploded, like gasoline being poured over a fire. He reached down to cup the warm, soft flesh of her thigh, then slid his hand up under her short denim skirt to grab her butt. She wiggled closer, anchoring the hot core of her passion against his throbbing erection.
He left her mouth to race his lips over her throat in huge, biting kisses. The scent of her, rich and floral, filled his head. Surrounded him in the memory of every bit of pleasure they’d brought to each other.
He was a proud man. A strong man.
But he was pretty sure that if he didn’t have her, right now, he’d break down and beg.
The fragile softness of her T-shirt was no defense against his need. He simply tore it out of his way with one quick rip.
Her gasp echoed, bouncing off the walls as her fingernails now dug into his shoulders. Pain and pleasure twined, tight and powerful.
Her skirt was just as easy, short enough that he easily shoved the denim up her hips. He wrapped one finger around the fragile lace of her panties and yanked.
Bare to him, her body was hot and pulsing.
His fingers drove into her welcoming wetness.
Her gasp quickly turned to a moan, deep and throaty. Hunter took that as an oh, yeah, c’mon.
With a quick flick of his wrist, he had his jeans unzipped and the hell out of his way.
He gripped her butt, shifting back so her weight was balanced between the wall and his hands, and plunged.
Hard.
Intense.
It was like coming home.
Over and over again.
Marni’s heels dug into his hips, anchoring her body to his as she met each thrust with a little undulation that sent his body soaring even higher.
“Michael,” she breathed, her words a whisper that began in his ear and quickly sifted its way into his soul.
Michael.
That’s all it took. One word that reached in and tore him to shreds.
With an eager growl, Hunter dove deeper. The edge was still razor-sharp. The need was still desperate. But his heart, closed and protected before, was wide-open and vulnerable for the first time in his life.
Marni’s body convulsed, clenching around his cock. Her fingers bore holes in his back as she arched, wringing every drop of pleasure from her orgasm.
He watched her fly over the edge, the flush painting a pink glow to her skin, her eyes hazed with satisfied passion. Her delight flipped a switch, removing all restraints on his own.
Hunter exploded. His entire being poured into her in a pulsing stream. His growl turned to a groan, low and throaty. His
body convulsed. Pumping, feeling more incredible than he’d ever felt before.
Instead of reveling in the power of his orgasm, though, a feeling he’d never felt before grabbed hold.
He stared at Marni’s pretty face, flushed and damp with proof of her own pleasure. He’d been shot at, blown up, chased by a bear and marked for death by a vengeful crime boss.
But this was the first time he’d ever been terrified.
* * *
IT WAS LIKE FLOATING in a cloud. A pleasure-filled, mind-numbed, delight-induced cloud. All Marni could do was feel. Feel her breath, ragged and hot as it labored from a throat raw from screams of pleasure. Feel her pulse, pounding like a freight train, fast and out of control. Feel her heart, melting with more love than she’d ever felt for another person in her life.
She sighed. Her shoulders drooped against the wall, all of her fears, all of her worries sinking away. Whatever their differences, she and Hunter could work it out.
As if he heard her thoughts, and strenuously objected, Hunter released her butt so abruptly her feet slammed to the floor. He shifted, moving away from her body so fast she was chilled by the quick gust of air.
Her mouth dropped open. Shocked, she stared, but before she could ask what was going on, he’d stormed into the bathroom. The door shut with all the finality of an exclamation point.
She knew something had just gone horribly wrong, but she didn’t know what. Her brain just wouldn’t engage. On autopilot, she moved to her suitcase and found a shirt, pulling it on and tugging her skirt down to cover her still pulsating privates.
“How’d you know my given name?” Hunter asked when he stepped out of the bathroom.
Marni stared, her mind still numbed from the quick slide through a sexual fog.
“What?”
“You said my name. Just then.” He gestured to the wall where he’d just screwed her brains out. Without said brains, she wondered, how was she supposed to respond? Marni pushed her hands through her sweat-damp hair and shook her head.
“We spent a week on a train together, had more sex in that time than I had in my entire four years of college. You don’t think I know your name?”
Tucking his shirt into his jeans, Hunter gave her a bland stare. And waited.
God, she hated the waiting.
It was even worse with this heavy expectation in the air. Hunter’s unspoken demand. As if she were some recalcitrant child who’d easily fall in line with a wag of his finger and a disapproving look.
She’d be damned if she was going to cave to his tough-guy intimidation.
Marni lifted her chin and pressed her lips together.
He arched one brow, as if to say it was a little late for her to close her mouth, he’d already been there.
“So what’d you do? Use your contacts to dig into my FBI files? Poke into my college records? How deep did you go?” he snapped, his fury unabated by what had been—at least for her—a mind-blowing orgasm. “That’s what a good reporter does when working a story, right? Opens every door, peeks into all the closets.”
Marni caught her breath, trying to control the jolt that slammed through her body. As though she was standing on the edge of a high dive, knowing she was going to plunge at any second and trying to be prepared. Then having someone come up from behind to shove her right over the side.
Still, she reminded herself, she was a damned good swimmer.
So she waited a beat, using the time to steady her quivering nerves. She made a show of crossing one leg over the other and brushed a nonexistent piece of lint from her skirt. Then, her smile as chilly as his words, she shook her head. “I was in the courthouse when you gave testimony, remember. You were sworn in using your full name.”
His face going blank, he stared. Calculating.
“And that’s your excuse?”
“My excuse for what? Getting a little too emotional while you did me against the wall?”
“You know, I think I liked it better when you were doing that unobtrusive sweet act,” he decided, crossing both arms over his chest and giving her a frustrated look.
She didn’t bother to deny that it had been an act.
“Was that when you were pretending to be an unassuming government pencil pusher?” she asked instead, offering an arch smile. “How’d that budget go? Was your boss happy with the way you crunched the numbers?”
“Clever. I guess that comes in handy, your ability to play with words and craft shrewd questions.”
“So you know I’m a reporter,” she said with a shrug, making as if she didn’t care. “And you are a big, bad FBI special agent. I guess we’re even.”
“Even?” He straightened, looking scary again. “You think so?”
Afraid he’d grab her for another round of wild sex, Marni jumped up from the bed. No point making it easy for him. She scurried—yes, she was ashamed to admit it to herself, but this quickstep was definitely a scurry—across the room.
“Yes, we’re even. You lied, I lied. You hid truths, I hid truths. You aren’t what you said...” She paused, then tapped her finger against her lips and shook her head. “Oh, wait, I’m exactly what I said. A writer. So I guess you’re right. We’re not even.”
Suddenly she was tired of being scared.
Scared of Hunter’s reaction.
Scared of her own emotions.
Scared of making a choice.
Enough was enough.
Marni didn’t know what she was going to do about any of it. But she did know she wouldn’t figure it out with Hunter looking over her in glaring fury, working his government-learned intimidation tactics.
“We have a few things to settle,” he said, sidestepping her comparison of their job claims.
“Do we?” she asked, now crossing her own arms defensively over her chest. Hindsight said it’d been insane to sleep with the man central to the biggest article she’d ever written. Her judgment was compromised, her every decision biased by their relationship. Even now, when she knew damned well she’d written the biggest, strongest article of her career, she worried about turning it in. Worried that she’d hurt Hunter’s career, jeopardize his case, make him look bad.
But even as she mentally screamed at herself for making such a huge mistake, she still couldn’t regret it. Because her time, her relationship, her feelings for Hunter, they were once in a lifetime.
Even if they were, thanks to reality, now over.
He stepped closer, giving her a long, searching look.
“You’ve been asking questions about Beverly Burns,” he accused quietly.
Marni blinked. Then, because she knew he was watching for it, she tried to keep her expression absolutely neutral. She couldn’t stop her fingers from clasping around each other, though.
“So? We knew each other from the fashion circuit. Maybe I was putting together a piece on her latest clothing line.”
“And maybe you’re digging into things that are none of your business.”
“Hmm, isn’t facts and stories that interest the public exactly the business of a reporter?” she mused, making a show of tapping her finger against her chin.
Hunter scowled.
“You’ve got nothing,” he decided.
Marni didn’t know why his assurance made her so angry. Maybe it was years of her family doubting her. Maybe it was her own questioning of her decision with this article. But it was as if he’d just blasted her in the face with a water balloon. She was drenched with irritation.
“I got the facts,” she snapped back. “Facts like the FBI is covering up Beverly Burns’s supposed death.”
Reaching out as if to grab the words back, Marni winced. She’d never make it as a spy. Or secret keeper, for that matter. She was a reporter because she was nosy, not because she was good at keeping things quiet.
“Shit,” he muttered, frustration, anger and regret all flashing across his face. Then, with a deep breath through his nose, Hunter straightened. As if he grew three extra inches, and not in a
way that interested her, he was back to a menacing threat looming over her.
“Whatever you think you know, forget it,” he suggested in a tone all the more formidable for its quiet. “You’re risking lives if you keep digging. I’m not going to let you put an innocent woman in danger.”
Let her? Marni couldn’t tell which was stronger. Her anger at the idea that he’d let her do any damned thing. Or the sudden spurt of jealousy spinning through her system, green and toxic. From everything she’d found out, Hunter had made Beverly Burns his own personal pet project. Because he was just that kind of guy? Or because she was a sexy, gorgeous redhead?
“Oh, yeah. Such a poor, sweet, innocent woman.” She gave a derisive scowl. “You’re talking about the wife of a known mobster. Beverly Burns’s own father was indicted on racketeering charges. She’s got a reputation that’s nearly as vicious as her husband’s.”
Something he should keep in mind while he was protecting her.
The look on Hunter’s face wasn’t possessive or affectionate, though. It was resolute. He stared long enough to make Marni want to squirm. Then, suddenly, he seemed to pull the plug on the scary aura. In the blink of an eye, he wasn’t daunting FBI Agent Man anymore, he was the sexy guy she’d fallen in love with. But the sexy guy who looked crazy serious, determinedly grim.
“She’s a dead woman if you let it be known that she didn’t go down with that building,” he said quietly, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning as if the weight of that was pressing down on his own shoulders.
Marni rolled her eyes, wanting to dismiss it as an exaggeration. But she knew Hunter didn’t exaggerate.
“You’re going to put Burns away. Between that and her family contacts, I’m sure she’d be safe enough,” Marni hazarded.
“Her family is small potatoes compared to Burns. And you’re not naive enough to think he won’t have almost as much power behind bars as he would as a free man.” The look Hunter gave her said if she was thinking in that direction, she should stick with reporting hemlines.
She had to suck in her lower lip to stop herself from pouting. It wasn’t that she was naive. She just hadn’t thought about it like that. So maybe she’d earned a few more articles on shoes, but definitely not hemlines.