by Nina Croft
Sam had a welcoming smile on his face, which disappeared when he recognized Matt. “What do you want?”
“To see Darcy. She’s expecting me,” he added, though he had no idea whether that was true. She’d said she wanted as little contact between them as possible, but she must know that wasn’t going to happen if she was serious about getting to know Lulu. And he was beginning to believe she was serious.
Sam’s expression was mutinous. Maybe he wasn’t going to get through to her.
“Your family has hurt her enough,” Sam growled.
It was odd, but she seemed too hard to be hurt. Then he remembered her expression as she’d left the meeting. Yes, she’d been pissed off, but beneath that had been a hint of vulnerability. She’d spent nearly three years in prison, when she’d been guilty of nothing more than protecting her pregnant sister. She was bound to be bitter. She’d also lost her only sister just a few years after her parents. She’d taken a lot of knocks in her young life; it was no surprise she’d developed a hard veneer.
“I have no plans to hurt her. She wants to see Lulu, I’m trying to arrange that.”
“What the hell is there to arrange? Just let her see the goddamn baby. She’s her aunt.”
He had no intention of talking about his private business with a stranger. At the same time, he didn’t know how he’d get past him without a fight. While he was sure he could take the man, he was also sure that fighting would not improve his relations with Darcy. And going forward, they had to find some way to co-exist. So he took a deep breath and forced a conciliatory smile. Sam didn’t seem impressed.
“I’m not going to hurt her. This”—he waved the envelope with the documents inside—“protects Darcy as much as it does me. I don’t know her, but I suspect we’re opposites and it’s not going to be easy. I’m signing this as well. It means I can’t turn around in a couple of weeks and deny her access.”
Sam stared a moment longer then gave a grudging nod. “She’s in her office, along the corridor, last door on the left.”
He nodded back and headed off. It was early evening and the place was buzzing. Mainly men, but through a window he passed, he saw some sort of aerobics class with about twenty women. The gym was clearly doing well. The last door on the left was closed, and he paused for a moment then knocked sharply.
“I’m not in. Go away.”
He recognized Darcy’s voice.
He tried the door. The handle turned and he pushed it open. The room was big, empty but for a desk, a couple of chairs, and in the corner, a punching bag hanging from the ceiling.
Darcy had changed into black sweats and stripped off her long-sleeved T-shirt to leave her in a sports bra that bared her midriff and arms. He’d told himself that the attraction from the other night had been nothing but an aberration. Now he stood transfixed as fire shot along his nerves, settling in his groin. Her breasts were small but full, and he could see the shape clearly, her nipples hard little points against the black bra. The sweats hung low on her hips, and her belly button was pierced, a silver hoop with a little black jewel. He’d have sworn that body piercing did nothing for him, but his dick twitched in his pants, and he was glad he was wearing a jacket that at least covered him.
Christ, this was inconvenient.
Darcy was facing him, her eyes narrowed, a fierce scowl on her face as she punched the bag, a series of rapid hits with her bare fists. She glanced up as he entered, whirled round, sending the punching bag swaying with a kick to its center.
She grabbed it between her arms to stop the movement, then rested her forehead against it for a moment. Was she getting her thoughts together, ready to face him? Fight him? He had an instant image of them grappling on the floor, rolling, until she was under him, arms pinned above her head, their lower bodies melded together. And he got even harder.
This had the potential to be seriously embarrassing.
But she didn’t look at him as she turned away. After picking up her T-shirt from where it lay on the desk, she wiped the sheen of sweat from her forehead and tossed it back.
She stood with her back to him, and he could see the rise and fall of her shoulders gradually decreasing. It seemed like an age, but was probably less than a minute, until she turned around. “I thought we were done for the day?”
He translated that to mean she’d seen quite enough of him. He held up the file. “You said to bring the papers to you.”
“I didn’t mean now, now.”
He shrugged and held out the envelope. “I like to get things organized.”
A grimace crossed her face. “I noticed.”
He guessed she wasn’t impressed by his organizational skills. She wiped her hands down her thighs then held one hand out. He handed her the envelope. He glanced around and took a seat in front of the desk, expecting her to take the one opposite, but she just pulled the papers free, dropped the envelope on the desk, and read them while pacing the room.
He stared out the window as she paced his way, then stared at her ass as she walked in the opposite direction. He couldn’t help himself. She had a great ass. She was long and lean, but there was a beautiful curve from her waist to her hips, and her ass was small and tight. He was tempted to slip his hand down her sweats to feel just how hard she was. He stretched out his legs to ease the pressure in his pants. His dick was almost painful now. He wanted to bend her over the desk, strip those pants down her hips, cup her ass with his hands, slide them lower—
“Captain Peterson?”
He shook the image from his head, cleared his throat. “Call me Matt.”
She huffed out her breath, waved the papers in his direction, and then dropped them on her desk. “These seem fine. Very fair.”
She sounded as though she was surprised. He suspected she would always have difficulty separating him from his brother, and he was the least likely guy in the universe to get into her pants. Which was probably just as well.
Unsuitable was an understatement of gargantuan proportions.
At the same time, it pissed him off just a little. He’d spent his life doing what he believed to be the right thing. Making his little part of the world a better place. Now to be judged, and found wanting, for something he hadn’t even done, stuck in his gut. Made him want to prove her wrong. Or kiss her senseless so she had no room in her head for anything other than how soon could they fuck.
Where had that thought come from?
He made to stand up, but then decided, considering the state of his arousal, that it wasn’t the best idea. “Sign them, and I’ll be out of here.”
“I bet your lawyer didn’t approve.”
“I think she believes you’re a threat to my person.”
“What, little old me?”
“Anyway, she does what I tell her.” He took a deep breath. “I know you think I should have told her about Steven—”
She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “Maybe. But only until I was out of there and could think more clearly. She’s very irritating, your lawyer. Actually, I think it’s better for Lulu if it isn’t general knowledge what her father was like. It will be hard enough for her to grow up without him, but to realize he was a bastard who all but murdered her mother would be too much of a burden for any kid.” He winced. “Maybe one day we’ll decide to tell her, but not for a long time, and not until she’s ready.”
“That’s a very…mature attitude.”
“I’m twenty-six, hardly a kid.”
“You don’t mind people thinking you’re…violent?”
She grinned. “Actually, I quite like it. And who’s to say I’m not? Your brother deserved what he got. But I enjoyed beating the crap out of him, so maybe I am.” The smile turned her face from interesting to beautiful. “I’ve always loved fighting.”
“And are you happy that I’m not like my brother?” He didn’t know why he was pushing this. But he needed her to admit it.
She just shrugged. “Almost happy. I think Lulu will be safe with you. That
is, if you don’t bore her to death with all your rules and regulations.”
He went still at her words, indignation holding him in place. No one had ever called him boring before. He was a fucking dangerous, special forces, kill-you-with-one-hand-tied-behind-his-back guy. Boring? He pushed himself to his feet and took a step closer to her, but she just stared up at him with that cocky smile on her face. Her hands were shoved into her back pockets, pushing her breasts out. And her nipples were still hard, sending fire though his blood. “You think I’m boring?”
“Hell, yeah. Conservative, stuffy. You like the rules. I like breaking them.”
He had an underlying niggle that she was purposefully winding him up, whether it was to see if he lost his temper and thus proved he was like Steven, or whether she just wanted to…wind him up. Because he’d pissed her off earlier. He took a step closer until they were only inches apart, and his nostrils filled with the scent of hot woman, sending the last of his blood supply to his dick.
There was certainly none left to feed his brain and remind him what a bad idea this was.
They were poking each other with metaphorical sticks. Partly, he knew, because it was a way for them both to get a measure of each other. They were both fighters at heart. But there was something else. Even if she would never be honest enough to admit it.
The attraction had been there at that club the other night, sizzling between them. The difference was he’d seen no reason not to give in, see where it would take them. He’d expected a hot and heavy one-night stand and no regrets. Whereas she had already known exactly who he was. No amount of attraction could take them anywhere. There was too much history between them. And there was Lulu to consider. They needed to keep their relationship nice and impersonal. For Lulu’s sake.
Even so, it was there, the desire sizzling through his blood, setting his nerves on fire, making him want to overthrow the rules. Take her here, so hard and fast that she’d never forget the feel of him inside her, never again mistake him for any other man. Certainly not his brother.
They’d been silent for a full minute. She was watching him, but her breathing had picked up, and a little pulse beat frantically against the pale skin of her throat.
“So you think I’m stuffy?” he asked softly.
“Yeah.” But the word lacked conviction.
He reached out, waiting for her to back away, but she held her ground. He trailed his knuckles down over the bare skin at her waist, and she flinched but still didn’t move, then slid them across her flat, almost concave belly. She was so still, she might have been turned to stone. He caught the little ring in her navel between his fingers and thumb and tugged gently.
“I like this.”
“You do?” Her voice was breathy. “I’m surprised.”
“Why? Because I’m conservative?”
He didn’t give her a chance to answer. Instead he lowered his head and kissed her. The action took him by surprise as much as it did her. He wasn’t one for spontaneous gestures. And for a second, the logical part of his brain tried to put the brakes on. Just at that moment, her lips parted, and he was lost. And that logical part of his mind shut down completely.
His hand came up and he cupped the back of her neck, pulling her harder against him as he deepened the kiss, pushing his tongue into the warm cavern of her mouth. She tasted of heat and spices and sweetness that made his head swim. His spare hand went to her waist and encountered bare flesh.
She was tall; they fit well together, and he kissed her long and deeply until they both ran out of air and came up gasping. He caught her gaze and saw something flash behind her eyes. So he kissed her again before she could do the sensible thing and back away. For a second, she was tense against him. He slid his hand up her bare back, under the edge of the tight sports bra, and his palm splayed against her, pressing her toward him, molding her to the length of his body, so he could feel her breasts and her belly hard against his erection. He groaned into her mouth.
There was too much between them, and he released her for a second, tugged open the buttons on his jacket and shrugged out of it, dropping it to the floor. He had a sense that he had to move fast, before she came to her senses and remembered that she hated him. Or, if not hated him, then hated a man who looked very like him and was responsible for what had to have been the worst time of her life. He ripped open the buttons on his shirt, grabbed her hand and pressed her palm against his heart.
Her eyes were hot and heavy as she stared at him, then slowly she stroked her hand down over his chest, her nails raking his nipple, then lower until her fingers grazed over his erection straining against his pants. Her hand rubbed against his hardness, sending pleasure shooting through him, tightening his balls, and he groaned again.
He pushed against her, backing her up until she hit the table behind her, then his hands went around her, gripped her ass, and lifted her so she perched on the smooth wood. He parted her knees and pressed in closer, shoving up against the junction of her thighs, and she returned the pressure, pushing back against him. He toyed with his fingers along the seam of her sweats, then, overcome by the need to discover if she was as turned on by this encounter as he obviously was, he shifted his hand upward, slipped it in the waistband of her pants, and found the silky curls between her thighs. She went still but made no move to stop him—thank Christ. He pushed lower, and she shifted to give him better access. Finally, one finger slipped between the folds of her sex, hot and wet. Her lashes fluttered closed as he ran his finger lower, finding the entrance to her body, so welcoming, and he pushed inside. A small moan escaped her lips, and he added another finger, stroking the inner walls of her pussy, loving the way her muscles clenched. He imagined his cock deep inside her, held in a tight grip, those muscles pulsing around him.
He moved his fingers, out of her and upward, finding the small swollen nub. A squeak escaped her as he grazed it lightly with the pad of his finger, and again so her hips lifted off the desk.
Soon.
He wanted to see her breasts, but he needed her to come first. Because after that, he was going to be deep inside her, and he reckoned he’d last all of about five seconds.
He stroked again.
“Harder,” she muttered.
“Ask me nicely.”
“Please,” she said, though her eyes narrowed. Then she lowered her back to the desk, arched her spine, widened her legs and she gave herself to him. He shoved his hand farther down her pants, cupping her sex. He crossed two fingers and pushed them inside her hard, at the same time he pressed down on her clit with the pad of his thumb, massaging the little nub. She was writhing on the desk top, and he held her still with his free hand cupping her breast, squeezing as his thumb rubbed hard circles over her. Her head went back and a small scream escaped her, and he slid his hand higher to cover her mouth.
He pressed harder and felt the heat of her release, the contractions against his fingers as she came for him.
Goddamn stuffy? He didn’t think she would call him that again.
He pulled his hand free, as she came up on her elbows, then held her dark gaze while he licked the sweet salty taste of her from his fingers. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips slightly parted and, tattoos and all, she was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. Now he wanted her naked, her hands all over him, and he wanted to be deep inside her. She pushed herself up onto her elbows, then sat up, reaching for his belt buckle. Her hands fumbled a little as she unfastened it, then her fingers moved to his pants.
Soon.
His dick was so hard now, he might explode if she touched him—hell, when she touched him. This was happening. Nothing was stopping it. He didn’t care how inappropriate, he needed this like—
“Darcy Butler, put that soldier down.”
The words, spoken from behind him, stopped him short. He went instantly still. So did the hand so close to his dick. Fuck.
This wasn’t happening. It was a good job he wasn’t armed, because he might have shot whoever had
interrupted.
He closed his eyes for a count of ten, then took a deep breath and stepped back. Darcy was watching him, one eyebrow raised, hand still outstretched. Her eyes held a sleepy, post-orgasmic look. At least one of them was satisfied. She gave a rueful shrug, and her hand dropped to her side. Her lips twitched as she studied him. “Maybe not so stuffy after all.”
He glanced down at himself. His shirt had come out of his pants and hung open. His erection still pushed at his fly but was wilting fast. He blew out his breath and tried to tell himself that it was just as well. For one thing, he didn’t have any condoms. Gone were the days when he carried one…just in case. He hadn’t really thought about sex since his brother died. Why did it have to be this woman who woke his dormant libido? Inappropriate. Inconvenient. And not going to happen.
But Christ, he needed to get laid.
Darcy jumped down off the desk, hitched up her sweats, and moved past him. He buttoned his shirt, tucked it in his pants, and looked around for his jacket. It lay on the floor, but before he could pick it up, someone beat him to it.
He took the jacket from the beautiful brunette and tried not to dislike her on principle. Because she had stopped his one chance of getting inside Darcy Butler. From now on, he’d be forewarned. Avoid situations that might lead to temptation.
“Hi,” she said as he shrugged into his jacket. “I’m Regan Malloy. Darcy’s flatmate.”
He thought about shaking hands, then remembered where his had been and decided against it. Instead he gave her a brief nod. “Matt Peterson.” He recognized her now. She’d been with Darcy at the club that night, along with a pretty blonde.
“I know who you are. What I don’t understand is what are you doing making out with my best friend on my best friend’s desk. Hmm?” Her gaze flashed between the two of them, one eyebrow raised.
“What do you want, Regan?” Darcy asked before he could come up with an answer.
She grinned. “Sam said you might need help. So I came running to the rescue. And what do I find…” She shook her head. “The two of you are in so much trouble.”