by Brenda Novak
But she wasn’t going to accept a date. She was going to call his bluff instead.
Standing on her tiptoes, she ran her tongue along his bottom lip. “Take off your clothes.”
Those four words hit Myles’s nervous system like a shot of heroin, or how he imagined a shot of heroin would feel. He’d heard druggies talk about the experience, heard them explain that first high was so spectacular it blew a person’s mind—which was why heroin was so addictive.
He had a feeling he could get addicted to this, to Vivian. Which made the self-preservation instinct that’d carried him away from her house last night kick in again. But he pushed his better judgment aside. Vivian wasn’t supposed to choose the way she had! He’d seen how skittish she was, how she’d hidden the sight of her braless chest from him earlier. She retreated from anything intimate, even from making close friends. He’d believed that, without the wine, she’d naturally refuse, and then…
Oh, hell. None of that mattered anymore. He was only human, and no single man he knew would be able to refuse Vivian, not with her hands up his shirt and her mouth on his. He was pretty sure he was harder than he’d ever been—
The memory of kissing Amber Rose for the first time suddenly rose up, and affected him almost like a physical shock. Surprised and shaken that such a vignette would appear in his mind now, he pulled back. Having sex with someone other than his late wife didn’t necessarily feel like a betrayal. He knew Amber Rose would want him to move on, to find someone else, to be happy. It’d been three years since she died. It was the amount of desire flooding through him that was the problem. He wanted Vivian with a desperation he’d never experienced before. She wasn’t just a stand-in because he couldn’t have Amber Rose, and that jolted everything he’d come to believe about himself and his marriage.
Vivian glared defiantly up at him. She knew, he realized. She’d felt him jerk, understood he was suffering from some kind of hesitancy or regret, but she had no idea why. And he wasn’t about to tell her. It gave her, basically an unknown entity and certainly an untrustworthy one with all her evasions and secrets, too much power over him. He wasn’t sure why his feelings were so disproportionate to what they should be, given how little he knew of her, but that was the reality. She appealed to him on such a basic level that logic had no control.
“Apparently you’re the one making promises you can’t keep.” Attempting to laugh off his withdrawal, she slipped out of his grasp and started for the door. He’d take her home if she insisted, but he caught her before she could leave the cabin.
“Don’t chicken out.”
She didn’t turn. “Myles, you don’t have to—”
Sliding his arms around her waist, he pulled her up against him and gently bit her neck. “I said don’t go.”
His voice sounded ragged even to his own ears. He pressed into her, making it obvious that he wanted her. But she didn’t relax and begin to respond to him again until he reached under her jacket and unsnapped her bra.
“Nice,” he whispered as her nipples hardened against his palms.
Although he hadn’t removed his clothes, as she’d told him to, she allowed him to dispense with her coat and T-shirt. Her bra went next. He could see her bare breasts from his vantage point, which was slightly above and behind her, and cupped them more gently, more reverently, because rushing this early contact would be a terrible waste.
She was larger than Amber Rose. Taller, bigger-boned, bigger-breasted. He didn’t want to make comparisons, had told himself he wouldn’t. But this one was inevitable. Her long legs put her ass almost even with his groin and although she was still wearing jeans, her backside was a soft cradle for his erection.
“You’re beautiful.” He was about to bend his head to nuzzle her ear when she turned to face him. Judging by her expression, he’d said something wrong.
“Don’t waste my time with meaningless remarks,” she said.
She thought his compliment was meaningless? That couldn’t have been farther from the truth. He found her stunning, gorgeous, which was going to be a problem. Forgetting about this afterward would be easier if he admired her less. He still wasn’t sure how that part of the deal was going to work. Whenever he caught sight of Vivian, he knew he’d remember this heart-stopping image of her standing in front of him with her wary blue eyes, boyish haircut and bare breasts.
But there’d be time enough to worry about tomorrow and all the days after. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”
He reached for her, but she held him off. “So…you don’t hate my haircut?”
He almost laughed. Another challenge. And yet there was a hint of insecurity beneath her question that he found endearing, especially after all her rejections. “No, I don’t hate your haircut. I wasn’t sure at first, but…I like it.”
She remained skeptical. “They’ve done studies. Most guys aren’t attracted to women with short hair.”
Was that why she’d cut it? She was so contrary, so ready to dismiss the whole world, daring him or any other man to like her.
“Then maybe they asked the wrong guys, because I think what you’ve done is sexy as hell.” So was the rest of her. She was different, intriguing. She was also rebellious—but, oddly enough, that made him want to protect her. Convince her that she could trust him.
It also warned him that losing Amber Rose might not be the only painful thing he’d ever experience.
Myles eyed her as if he couldn’t quite figure out what was going through her head. “So…are we fine?” he asked. “Is everything okay?”
Vivian wasn’t sure. Rational thought was beginning to intrude, beginning to make her question why she was behaving so irresponsibly. “I’m reconsidering…”
“What?”
Everything, but she could only admit to part of it. “This. I’ve only been with two other men in my life. My husband and a steady boyfriend.” Who was currently missing. “This situation is so…different, so reckless, so—”
“You’re telling me you’re not as brave as you pretend to be?”
“I don’t want to make a mistake. I—”
Whatever she was about to say fled her mind as he took her face between his large hands and kissed her tenderly. “I’m going to take good care of you, Vivian. You believe that, don’t you?”
She did. He was a cop. Taking care of people wasn’t only his job, it was part of his nature. She liked that about him. The problem was that she wasn’t taking good care of him. If, after this was all over, she couldn’t replace the barricade she’d tried so hard to maintain between them, she could be putting him in harm’s way.
“I believe you’ll try,” she said. “But…we shouldn’t be doing this. You don’t…you need to pick someone else. You have a lot of options.”
His hands dropped to the curve of her waist and held her in place as he lowered his head. “I don’t want anyone else,” he whispered, and drew the tip of her breast into his mouth.
The sensation of his tongue caused darts of pleasure to race through Vivian’s blood, interfering with her ability to think. “You promise you won’t ever call me again?” she gasped, trying to stand firm.
He looked up at her as though he might change the rules or question why it had to be that way. But when she unzipped his fly and began running her fingers over him, his chest lifted as if the contact had just kicked his heart up into his throat. “I promise.”
His voice sounded strangled. She knew the way she’d exacted his agreement hadn’t been fair. But she planned to hold him to his word. She had no choice.
“Good. Kiss me again,” she whispered.
10
Vivian had never made love quite like this before. They stripped off his clothes and what was left of hers and joined instantly.
“Let’s…slow down,” Myles panted, his chest damp with sweat even though they’d moved from the wall, where he’d borne her weight, to the softest place in the vicinity—a bearskin rug. “I want…this to be good for you.�
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He seemed intent on achieving come control. But she wouldn’t allow it. She believed she’d be able to forget him far more easily if they took a quick bow to lust and only lust. So she urged him to let himself go, told him she wanted it that way, and he obliged her. Hooking his arms beneath her knees, he drove into her with the abandon she craved, and the intensity and pleasure carried Vivian where she needed to be—to that place where thoughts don’t exist, just sensation.
Their lovemaking ended almost as fast as it’d begun, which made her feel as if she’d won a victory of some sort. At least she hadn’t enjoyed it too much. That somehow meant she couldn’t miss it later. Or so she told herself until, after a short nap, they woke up and started all over. Soon, they’d made love in the living room and in the bedroom as well as that first time in the hall, and each experience was better than the last.
It was three hours later when, too exhausted to expend any more energy, Vivian rolled away from Myles to check the clock on the wall above the dining table. Almost eleven. She’d been admiring his face while he dozed, but knowing she’d never see him this way again felt like such a loss she didn’t want to think about it. “We’ve got to go,” she whispered, giving him a slight nudge to wake him. “It’s late.”
His eyes opened but he made no move to get up. “Let’s sleep a little longer.”
“We have kids to worry about.”
“One more time.”
“What? Don’t tell me you’re not satisfied,” she said with a laugh.
Instead of laughing with her, he sobered. “I’m not satisfied.”
“How many times is it going to take?”
“You tell me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’ve been holding out on me. Why?”
Scowling, she glanced away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she responded.
“Yes, you do.”
“I had fun.”
“You encouraged me to let go and enjoy myself but you wouldn’t. You hung on to your control so tight I couldn’t pry you away from it.”
“Stop.”
He sat up. “I want to talk about this.”
“Talk about what?” she said with exasperation.
“The way you wouldn’t really connect.”
“How do you know it wasn’t your fault?” She felt terrible the moment she’d said it. It wasn’t his fault at all. She just didn’t want to address the truth.
Fortunately, he didn’t let her get away with it. “Because I watched you. Every time you got close you’d simply…shut down.”
And then he’d try harder. To no avail. “I just…couldn’t, okay?”
“It’s not a physical problem…”
The heat of a blush warmed her cheeks. “No.”
“Then why wouldn’t you share that moment with me? You knew I wanted it.”
She started looking for her clothes. “You got what you wanted,” she muttered.
“I got half of what I wanted.”
Her shirt was on the floor. Where her panties had gone, she had no idea.
“Is it because of your ex?” he asked when she didn’t respond.
“I don’t think so,” she said. She could blame Tom for a lot, but not for that. Guilt stood in her way, for stealing what she had no business taking. And bad memories—the people who’d been killed because of their association with her. She couldn’t stand the fact that she was dragging Myles into the mess that was her life.
“What, then? You thought I wouldn’t notice?”
She’d thought he wouldn’t care. “I’ve got…issues. Surely that’s no surprise to you.” At last she found her panties, under his jeans.
He stood and watched her as she put them on, which made her more than a little self-conscious. “If you were going to hold out on me, why’d you want to make love at all? I thought a good climax or two, or maybe ten, was what you wanted.”
So had she. She’d assumed she’d indulge her body and the cravings that’d become so troublesome would go away. But she hadn’t realized that she wanted much more than a one-night stand, even a one-night stand with the man she’d been fantasizing about for well over a year. When she looked at Myles or touched him or kissed him…
Stop. She couldn’t even think it. That acknowledgment would only make matters worse. “I’m fine, okay? You were fantastic. I’m sorry if I didn’t moan loudly enough.”
She was being flippant, hadn’t really meant it, but it made him angry all the same. She could tell by the muscle that jumped in his cheek. “Don’t patronize me,” he growled. “I’m not looking for an ego boost.”
She couldn’t handle arguing with him. Not on top of everything else. She raised a hand. “Please, I don’t want this to end badly.”
“Neither do I. But I’m willing to go let that happen if it means I’ll finally get some honesty.”
“You want honesty?”
“That’s exactly what I want!”
She held her shirt to her chest. “How about you give me some honesty first?”
“Fine.” He put his hands on his hips, completely indifferent to his nudity. But he had no reason to be self-conscious. Every inch of his body was lean and well-toned. “What do you want to know?”
She hurried to finish dressing. She’d revealed too much, literally and figuratively. She should never have started this.
“Well?” he demanded.
Feeling safer once she had her clothes on, she whirled to face him. “Do you have any idea who murdered Pat?”
Rocking back, he threw up his hands. “You’ve got to be kidding me. The murder? That’s what this is about? You thought you could trade a piece of ass for the insider scoop?”
“Quit making everything worse! I just…I need to know.”
“We all need to know. But it hasn’t been determined. I’m not sure we’ll ever learn the answer. We’re doing what we can and that’s what we’ll continue to do. There isn’t enough to go on.”
“The autopsy had to show something.”
“If you call death by blunt-force trauma something. I could tell that much by looking at him.”
“Have you found the can opener?”
He stepped toward her. “You heard about the can opener?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Gertie’s been talking about it.”
“Damn it! That isn’t information I want circulating around the community, Vivian. If I’m lucky enough to find the bastard who murdered Pat, that detail might’ve been helpful in putting him away, but it’ll be useless if everyone knows about it.”
“I understand why you’d be worried, but—”
“I don’t think you do.”
Curving her fingernails into her palms, Vivian drew a calming breath and lowered her voice. “I just said I did. Why are you so worked up?”
“Because I’m pissed off! And I’m not even sure I can tell you why.”
She handed him his boxers. “If it’s about the case, there’s no reason to take it out on me.”
“It’s not the case. At least, it’s not only the case.”
“You’re saying it’s me.”
“Yes! You gave me everything I could ask for tonight. And yet…forget it.” Unable to explain further, he thrust one leg, then the other, into his underwear.
She brought his jeans next. “Do you always act this way after sex?”
He didn’t bother buttoning his fly. Standing there without a shirt, his hair mussed from her hands, a five-o’clock shadow covering his jaw, he was pretty damn appealing. Maybe even more appealing than before they’d made love. And that scared her. What had just happened here was supposed to be enough to satisfy her. It had to be enough.
“Don’t you understand?” he said. “Trying to reach you is like…grasping at smoke!”
She winced. He was right. She couldn’t help it, couldn’t change that without leaving him open to more pain and loss than he’d already
experienced.
When he seemed to realize his words had stung her, he scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve…you’ve been through something terrible. That you’ve been hurt. Is it too much to ask to get to know you? What do I have to do?”
A lump grew in her throat. This was a disaster, the worst thing she could’ve done. Instead of feeling better, liberated, free from all that pent-up longing and desire, she felt as if she’d rolled around on broken glass and was bleeding from little cuts all over her body.
She turned so he couldn’t read the conflict in her eyes. “Just keep your promise.”
“My promise?”
“Find someone else for your next encounter.” Tears blurred her vision. She did her best to hide them while she put on her shoes. But he wouldn’t let her withdraw that easily. He took her arm and pulled her closer.
“I don’t understand you,” he whispered.
She couldn’t explain. Neither could she stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks. She wanted to bury her face in his chest, beg him to hold her until she felt strong enough to face the world again. She didn’t need sex. She didn’t need anything except a shoulder to cry on. But she couldn’t even ask for that.
He used his thumbs to wipe her tears. “You think it was your ex-husband, don’t you.”
Stepping back, she pressed her palms to her eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“For some weird reason, you think he’s here and he killed Pat. That’s all I can figure. You’ve been acting so strange since the murder.”
He was getting too close to the truth. “I don’t think it’s my ex.”
“Then why do you need a gun?”
His mention of her gun reminded her that it was still on the table. Reclaiming it, she shoved it into the waistband of her jeans again. “Because there’s a killer on the loose.”
“But why would he be more interested in you than anyone else?”
“For all I know, he’s not.”
“Then it wouldn’t be that big a deal if I confiscated your weapon.”