She nodded. "I didn't realize prisoners could make calls."
Rage was a hard, twisting knot in his belly. "Fact of life, prisoners can do damn near anything they want."
Because she looked dangerously brittle, he kept his movements slow and easy as he took her in his arms and tucked her head beneath his chin. She made a soft little moaning sound as she settled against him, her arms tightening around his waist. He felt the rounded contours of her belly, the fullness of her breasts. The fear she was trying hard to master.
"Tell me what he said, Danni," he ordered when some of the rage settled. "Exactly what he said."
"He … he said he'd give me until tomorrow to withdraw the charges. Otherwise—" She broke off, her breath shuddering in and out as she fought to steady her voice. "Otherwise, he intends to sue for joint custody of both this baby and Lyssa."
He should have seen that coming. That he hadn't filled him with a sick shame. "It's an empty threat, Danni. He's just trying to spook you."
"He succeeded all right." She huffed out a humorless laugh. "You were right, Rafe. He's evil. Pure evil."
He was that and more. "He won't win, Danni. Not this time."
"But that's just it, the way things are now, the jurors might not believe I didn't sign that power of attorney. He's a masterful liar, and women just naturally gravitate to him. I saw it way they hung on every word. And if there are women in the jury they might side with him over me."
"They'll believe you, honey. You have no reason to lie."
"His voice was so … smug!" she burst out. "I could tell he was enjoying himself."
He kept his smile inside. "Be a shame if he found himself thrown in a cell with a bunch of meat-eating bikers, wouldn't it?"
"Is that possible?" she asked in a little flurry of excitement. "I mean could someone actually arrange that? If he—or she—were so inclined?"
He was definitely inclined. "Someone could, yeah. If he didn't mind breaking a few rules." He pressed a kiss into her soft hair, the promises he'd wanted to make locked deep inside.
"Do you know anyone like that?"
"You want the list in alphabetical order?"
Choking a laugh, she drew back. "You're a menace, Rafe Cardoza."
He dug for the hell-raising grin that hid a multitude of feelings better left unnamed. "Bribe me with another of those soul kisses, Princess, and I'd fight the devil himself."
"It's tempting, but no."
Grin fading, he lowered his head slowly, his thick wheat-colored lashes flickering as his intense gaze roamed her face. "No to the kiss, or no to the bikers?"
She'd known his temper and his resentment and his sweetness. Suddenly she wanted his heat. The raw sexuality that seemed to pulse out of him with every breath. It was primitive, this need to explore those power sculpted muscles with her mouth and her hands. She burned to rub her breasts against his hard chest and feel his thigh rubbing against the hot ache between her legs. Most of all she wanted to watch his body swell and harden and know that he wanted her. She licked her lips, and his eyes grew dangerously turbulent.
"Time's up, Danni," he commanded
"Yes to the kiss," she whispered, tilting her head up. "Yes, yes, yes."
* * *
Chapter 12
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With a heartfelt groan, he scooped her off her feet and into arms that were both possessive and steely.
"This is getting to be a habit," she grumbled, putting her arms around his neck.
He glanced down, his eyes crinkling. "Stop wiggling, or you'll end up on that sexy fanny."
Before she could answer, he lowered his head and kissed her until her senses scrambled. When he lifted his head again, she murmured a little protest that had his mouth slanting.
"Patience, honey. I've waited a long time for this. I'm not about to rush it."
"Promises, promises," she muttered, but she snuggled closer.
Why this man? she wondered, kissing his ear. What was there about him that made her feel wanton and free? Why did her body respond to his like tinder to flame?
Her mind could cite dozens of reasons why a relationship would never work. Logical, practical reasons. He was tough and cynical and driven by God only knew how many demons. She cried at camera commercials and felt sorry for criminals, even though she knew better.
As soon as he touched her, none of that mattered. She wanted him desperately. Tomorrow she would deal with the emotional blow-back. Tonight she wanted to be a woman instead of a lady. To feel all that raw power inside him slam into her. To feel his body shudder helplessly beneath her hands. Closing her eyes, she drew in the soapy scent of his skin and felt her body sigh with a longing she could no longer fight.
When they reached the bedroom he let her slide down his body slowly, shuddering when her belly rubbed against his engorged groin. "Don't move," he grated, holding her tight against him. His muscles were hard and straining as he waited out the punishing urge to take her with one fast, deep thrust.
Her fingers kneaded his back impatiently. Her breath was moist and hot against his chest, wetting the shirt he'd bought after tracking down those damn flowers she'd always been crazy about. He'd felt like an ass, carrying those fluffy things around, but damn, the starry-eyed look on her face had been worth it.
He closed his eyes and distracted himself with images of his body plunging into a deep dark pool filled with ice water. Gradually his heart stopped its frantic hammering and the searing pressure eased. When he was in control again, he loosened his hold and drew back. Her lashes fluttered open, and her lips parted as she sighed his name.
He had no words, only needs so desperate, so deeply felt they bordered on savage. "I lived in hell for years wishing I'd taken what you offered that night, Princess," he admitted, his voice rough with feelings he only half understood. "You have a hook in me. I don't like it, but I can't seem to shake free."
Her lips curved. "I've thought about this moment for years," she murmured. "Even when I was married to Mark, I wondered if it would be different with you."
Conflicting emotions pulled at him. He didn't want to think of her with Mark. He didn't want to think of what might have been. This was what mattered now. This prowling need to thrust into her, deep and hard, until she felt only him. Knew only him.
"It's been a long wait, Princess," he murmured an instant before bringing his mouth down on hers.
It was exactly what she wanted, his mouth hot and desperate on hers, his hands tangled in her hair as he made her head spin and her body burn. His mouth, so hard when he was angry, so hungry now, branded her with one drugging kiss after another.
Her breath hitched as he slid his mouth to the spot behind her ear. Sensations rained through her, slow rippling needs and sweet shimmers of heat. Too needy to wait, she tugged at his shirt, ripping it free of his trousers. A desperate moan broke from her throat as she fumbled with his belt buckle. When it slipped free, he covered her hand with his.
"I'm not getting naked alone," he said, his gaze skimming down to her breasts. Instantly heat spread over the swollen fullness, searing her skin and puckering her nipples.
Excitement raced through her bloodstream like her father's best vintage. "According to Emily Post, guests always go first," she managed, her voice thickened with so many needs, so many longings.
His gaze narrowed. A faint sheen of sweat covered his brow. Beneath the soft fabric of his trousers, his body was still heavily engorged and rigid. "No way. Not until I see some skin."
She was suddenly terrified. "I'm not sixteen any longer," she said, trying for a light touch.
His eyes grew dark and intense. "Ah, honey, if you're worried I'll be disappointed, I have to tell you there's no way that can happen."
She felt his gaze burning into her as she fumbled to unbutton the front of the chemise. It fell open, revealing her plain cotton nursing bra. As she stepped out of the dress, she felt her body tremble.
"So beautiful," he whispered, his eyes glowing. H
is hands shook as he slipped his fingers beneath the straps, sliding them over her shoulders. His hands were rough, rasping over her skin. Sensations shivered and built beneath the surface as he kissed her shoulder, then slid his mouth lower. Moisture pooled between her thighs as a restless heat built. Whimpering, she reached for his zipper.
Her fingers brushed his rigid flesh and he jerked. His fly fell open and his body surged free. He was thick and large, hard and rigid beneath softest velvet.
Inside her needs were building, like a restless pressure spreading like ripples outward from her womb. Her skin was hot and itchy, and her breasts felt swollen.
Her mouth went dry as she closed her fingers around the length of him. With a low, guttural moan that seemed to come from some deep and dark place inside, he hurriedly unhooked her bra and her breasts spilled free.
"Heaven help me," he whispered reverently as he filled his palms.
Slowly he bent to swirl his tongue over an aching nipple. Her womb contracted, and her body yearned to feel him inside her. Muscles rippled beneath her skin.
"Now," she whispered through a tightening throat. "Please, Rafe, make love to me now."
He moaned, then kissed her hard before quickly stripping. He jerked back the covers while she stepped out of her panties.
"Come here, sweetheart. Let me love you."
He drew her down onto the pale sheets and covered her with his body. Eagerly, she parted her legs. He skimmed his hands over her belly, her thighs, trailing his fingers over the tender flesh, finding moist heat.
She gloried in each touch, each sensation, her mind splintering, her body responding of its own accord. It felt so good, the solid weight of his big chest against her breasts, the press of hard thighs, the heat pouring from his skin, searing hers.
His body straining, his skin burning, he thrust one finger into her. He groaned when he found her wet. Lost, he slid his hands beneath her buttocks and lifted her. He thrust into her slowly, feeling the hot moist passage expand to accept him.
She shuddered, her breath sighing out. Hands fisted in the sheets, she tossed her head side to side, her desperate cries of pleasure driving him toward the brink. He gritted his teeth, struggling to hold back.
"More," she demanded desperately. "Harder. Let me feel you."
He thrust faster, and felt her tremble. She licked her lips, her face tense, her brow pleated from a desperate need. "Let it go, sweet," he grated as his body begged for release.
Just when he thought he couldn't hold off any longer, she shattered, her breath escaping in a low keening cry that drove him over the edge. His mind splintered into a thousand colors as pleasure crashed through him. She let out a helpless little sob, and then she was shuddering again.
Still buried deep inside her, he eased down next to her and pulled her against him. Sated and drowsy, he brushed her hair away from her heated face, then kissed her gently. The need to cherish her was strong inside him, and his throat was suddenly thick with words he couldn't say, promises he couldn't make.
He kissed her again, with tenderness this time and something that felt like sadness. Her lips curved in a drowsy smile.
"I was right," she murmured. "You really are formidable."
He laughed, then drew the sheet over their sweat-damp bodies before cuddling her close. She let out a little sigh of pleasure and kissed his shoulder before her lashes fluttered down.
Closing his eyes, be stroked her arm with lazy fingers until her breathing slowed, then evened. Only then did he let himself sleep.
* * *
He woke her with a kiss flavored with coffee. She opened her eyes to a lovely lethargy—and the sight of a well-built, gloriously naked man setting a tray on the night table.
"What's that?" she asked, feeling a little shy now.
"Dinner." He handed her a neatly folded cloth napkin that he'd obviously taken from the drawer in the kitchen. "Mama's version of a Spanish omelet." His grin was a little crooked. "Without the peppers. You must have run out."
She laughed. "Baby doesn't like them."
His gaze flickered to the small mound beneath the sheet, and something infinitely sweet flashed between them before he sat down next to her. He'd turned on the bedside lamp and his skin seemed to glow like burnished bronze. Because she could, she laid her hand on his thigh and felt the muscle contract. In the past she'd always felt the need to shower after making love. But now, somehow, the lingering scent of musk seemed absolutely right.
Sex in nature was raw and sweaty and messy. And sometimes violent, she thought as she ran her tongue over the inside of her swollen lips.
"What time is it?" she asked because he was between her and her clock.
"Nearly ten."
"It's a good forty minutes from here to the airport," she reminded him with a pang of regret. "If you don't leave soon, you'll miss your flight."
"I'll catch another one."
She smiled. "Obviously a man who sets his own schedule."
"When it's appropriate." He smoothed her hair away from her shoulder, then bent to kiss it. "Are you okay?" he asked as he lifted his head.
She smiled drowsily as she played with the hair on his chest. "Very okay."
"Sore?" He curled his free hand over her hip.
"A little," she admitted, turning her attention inward. It was a sweetly intimate ache, she realized. An affirmation that for a time they'd been as close as a man and woman can get. Now only the possessive weight of his hand connected them. She mourned a little.
"How about you?" she asked as she ran her gaze over the hard contours of his chest.
His mouth softened. "Honey, if I felt any better, I'd be wearing angel wings." He looked so proud of himself she burst out laughing.
"More like devil's horns," she said, adoring him with her eyes. "But such a handsome devil."
His grin flashed, replacing the deep gouged lines bracketing his mouth with a rogue's dimples. But it was the tender light in his eyes that had her heart fluttering.
"Since we've already had dessert, how about an appetizer before dinner?" he suggested, his voice dipping into a musical drawl.
Her body quickened, and suddenly her body was no longer sore. "Depends on the appetizer," she murmured, but his mouth was already slanting over hers.
* * *
They finally ate the reheated omelet around eleven, then showered together, playing in the water like a couple of kids. She'd forgotten that he was ticklish and did her best to torment him. He retaliated by backing her up against the slick tile and kissing her until her legs were shaky and she was forced to cling to him to keep from sliding down into a little puddle of pleasure at his feet.
Accepting her surrender with a cocky grin that wound down inside her like a heartfelt moan of pleasure, he soaped every inch of her, his hands slow and thorough and very skilled. She reciprocated, eager to touch and explore each sinew-roped muscle and solid plane. His skin was slick and hot, roughened in spots by golden hair, his buttocks hard, his belly ridged.
To her surprise—and definitely his, he admitted with a crooked grin—he ended up fully aroused again. It had been both hilarious and wildly erotic as he hoisted her there in the shower, with the water beating down, and her legs locked awkwardly around his waist.
Afterward, both still a little dazed, they dried each other off. While she dried her hair, he took the dishes back to the kitchen.
When she emerged from the bathroom wearing only her robe and a splash of her Chanel No. 5, he was already in bed with the sheet drawn to his waist, his knees drawn up, his back propped against the lacy pillows. His chest was bare, his hair tousled, his eyes a little sleepy.
A well-worn duffel bag sat on the floor near the closet door. He hadn't asked to stay. She hadn't invited him. Like their friendship it was simply assumed.
His eyes heated as she slipped out of the robe and tossed it onto the foot of the bed. "What time is Lyssa due home tomorrow morning?" he asked, lifting the sheet so that she could climb in n
ext to him.
"Noonish," she said arranging the remaining pillows against the headboard before settling in next to him.
It seemed completely right, somehow, to snuggle up next to that strong, warm chest and feel his arms close protectively around her. "She and Jody have a kick-boxing class at ten," she explained, slipping her thigh over his. Beneath her ear she could hear his heart. "Jody's mom offered to drop her off after."
"Kick boxing?" He sounded incredulous. "A little thing like Lyssa?"
"Mmm. Her physical therapist thought it would help with her coordination and strength. Tums out she's a natural. Her instructor's absolutely convinced she was a ninja assassin in a previous life."
He chuckled. "Way she looks at me, I can believe it."
Danni yawned. She felt as though her insides had melted, so content was she. "It's not you personally. She'd look that way at any man she thought was interested in me."
"Damn, and I thought I was being subtle."
She laughed. "Oh you were. Especially that night in the kitchen."
"Yeah, well, I might have slipped up a time or two." He stroked her back, his movements slow and lazy. His face was more relaxed than she'd ever seen it. "You're heady stuff, lady."
"So are you." She sighed. "I swore I was going to live the life of a nun from now on."
She ran her fingers through the soft golden hair covering his pectoral muscles. Half-hidden was a rough puckered line where his chest had been sliced open. Her fingers lightly traced its length and he stiffened.
"Does that hurt?" she asked apologetically.
He captured her hand and kissed it. "No, but it's still sensitive."
"What happened?"
His face closed up. "I made a mistake."
"You were shot?"
He nodded. "The same man who got Alice MacGregor tried his best to take me out, too."
Hiding her shock, she raised up far enough to press her lips against the obscene scar. "I'm sorry."
The tension came from deep inside him, tightening his muscles and turning his jaw white. "Alice MacGregor would still be alive if I hadn't screwed up." Though quiet, his voice had an edge of self-contempt that was painful to hear.
DADDY WITH A BADGE Page 15