A Kiss to Kill

by Nina Bruhns

  The infertility was too personal an issue to discuss without his permission. But she could share his worry about his job and the PTSD. “It was so good,” she said. “I was happy.” For the most part. “He seemed happy, too. Then he had that flashback while we were diving, and it all kind of fell apart from there.”

  “Ah. I understand.”

  Rebel glanced over. Her friend’s focus had turned inward, her expression bleak, raw. Rebel had seen Alex with that same expression on his face. It was the memories rearing up.

  “I dealt with it,” Rebel continued. “I tried to be strong for him . . . help him through it.” She sighed. “But I think I remind him too much of . . .” The memories. “He told me he dreamed of me, you know. Over there, while he was a prisoner.”

  Gina came back from wherever she’d been. “He did?”

  Rebel nodded. “All the time, he said.”

  Gina smiled. “That proves he loves you.”

  Right. “Not enough to deal with the problems keeping us apart. He just wants to run away.”

  “Maybe he’s afraid to face them. I’m sure he’s feeling weak and vulnerable right now. He could be afraid you won’t love him anymore, now that you’ve seen his weakness displayed so vividly. Seen him completely helpless. Men like to think they’re strong, invincible. Especially men in Alex’s profession.”

  Rebel rolled to her stomach, resting her chin in her hand. It made a lot of sense. Even for the sterility thing. Although Alex had never been the caveman macho type. But the heirs to a man’s name—or lack thereof—could be an explosive issue. Wars had been fought over it.

  “You told me once you dreamed of Gregg while you were . . . captive. How did you feel when you saw him again?”

  “Not exactly the same situation,” Gina said dryly. “I wanted to kill him. Literally.”

  “Maybe you could give me lessons.” They laughed. “Though I take it Gregg didn’t play along. What happened? You two sort of skipped over that part in your stories earlier.”

  Gina’s smile gradually faded as she answered. “He convinced me I was wrong about him. He’s actually helped me a lot. Psychologically. I feel better around him. Safe.”

  “Hardly surprising,” Rebel observed. “That man’s got to be the scariest human being I’ve ever met in my life. Those eyes. Like he can read every thought in your head.” She shivered.

  “He can,” Gina said, almost sadly. She toyed with a silver chain around her ankle. A small heart hung from it. “Every thought.”

  “So . . . if you don’t mind me asking . . . why are you sharing a room with me?”

  Gina pulled a pillow to her middle and curled around it. “He’s angry with me. He wanted to find the traitor on his own and he blames me for being forced to work with STORM.”

  Rebel could hear a world of hurt in those words. Obviously her deep feelings for the man had returned with a vengeance now that he’d been absolved of betraying her. “But it’s not your fault we ran into you in the corridor. Not that I’m sorry we did . . . But seriously, what were the odds?”

  “That’s the problem. Gregg doesn’t believe in coincidences. I’m sure he thinks I called Alex or Kick. Sold him out.”

  “But you didn’t! You should tell him that.”

  “I tried. He won’t listen.”

  Rebel sat up on the bed. “Then, girl, you need to march yourself over there and make him listen. This is ridiculous! You love him. At least one of us should have a happy ending.”

  Gina hugged her pillow harder. Her brown eyes swam with misery. “Then I guess it’s up to you, girlfriend. Because it doesn’t matter how I feel. The one thing I know about Gregg van Halen is, the man does not believe in love. There’s not going to be any happy ending for Gregg and me.”

  If Rebel didn’t already feel completely heartbroken for herself, her heart would have broken all over for her friend.

  How did two such intelligent, sensitive, and giving women end up in this lonely, painful position? Men! She wanted to send the entire male population to some other galaxy and leave them there forever. See how they’d do without women in their lives.

  She jumped up and stalked into the bathroom to get ready for bed. The pathetic part? They’d probably do just fine without women. In fact, the obtuse jerks probably wouldn’t even notice anything was missing. Well. Except late at night, of course. Probably the only time female presence would be missed.

  When she came out again, Gina was asleep, clinging to her pillow like she wished it were Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Scary hugging her back.

  Rebel turned off the light and crawled under the covers. And wished she had the courage to march over to Alex’s room and make him listen.

  Tell him how she felt about him. How desperately she loved him. That he was making the biggest mistake of his life by shutting her out.

  But was that really true? Or was he right? In years to come, when she hadn’t felt the amazing joy of giving birth, and knew she would never look into the eyes of a child and see the man she loved . . . would she resent him? Would their happiness slowly fall apart because she could never accept the crushing finality of his condition?

  Honestly, she could not see that happening. She loved him too much. And there were other options available. Good options.

  But could she convince him to give her a chance to plead her case? And if he did . . . even then, he may not trust her promise.

  Because Gregg van Halen might not believe in love, but it was pretty obvious . . . Alex Zane did not believe in her.

  And in the end, wasn’t that what love was all about?

  THE night was dark, and cold, and went on forever.

  Tossing and turning and freezing, no matter how many blankets she piled on, Gina could not get warm. But the problem wasn’t with the room’s temperature, or the blankets. It was with her.

  She missed Gregg.

  She missed his heat. She missed his protective arms around her. She missed his steady heartbeat at her back, reminding her with its even rhythm that if she woke from another nightmare he’d be there to kiss her brow and soothe her fears.

  Which was why, before she realized what she was doing, she once again found herself standing in the middle of their old suite, working up the courage to go into the bedroom and confront him.

  She’d been vaguely surprised her key card still worked; he must have forgotten to have it reprogrammed. Around her, the sitting room was dark and still, only the low hum of the minibar fridge broke the silence. He’d left the French door curtains open, and through them the indigo sky of the city night basked in the glow of the moon and a smattering of pale stars.

  On bare feet, wearing nothing but the plush hotel robe—a girl could dream, couldn’t she?—she padded to his bedroom door. And quietly opened it.

  The room was a gaping maw of total blackness, so quiet she could hear her own blood sussing through her veins. But she could smell him, the subtle scent of her lover beckoning to her body like a whispered command. She took a step in.

  And another.

  It was so dark she couldn’t see the bed. Or the door to the bathroom, or even her own hand when she raised it to feel her way through the pitch blackness.

  “Gregg?” she whispered.

  Right behind her came the metallic snick of a gun slide unracking.

  She whirled, almost tripping, clutching the robe to her breasts. The bedroom door had closed. She sensed the specter of a figure standing in front of it. Her heartbeat stalled. For a second, terror held her mute, and unable to move. Then her body started to tremble.

  “What are you doing here, Gina?” Gregg’s voice asked from the darkness.

  Relief jellied her limbs. She wanted to run to him, to fling her shaking body into his arms. But God knew what he’d do.

  “I came to talk to you,” she managed.

  “Not interested,” he said brusquely and brushed past her.

  “Why are you doing this?” Her voice cracked on the desperate question. “Being so cold?�
�

  His gun clattered onto the nightstand. “You really have to ask that?”

  She listened carefully, trying to follow his movements. But it was no use. He moved like a ghost. “Working with STORM isn’t a bad thing, Gregg. They know you’re innocent. They want to help us.”

  “This doesn’t have anything to do with STORM,” he bit out.

  She drew in a calming breath. “Look, I’m sorry I left the suite this morning. I’m sorry I—”

  Suddenly he was looming over her. “You betrayed me, Gina. You called them when I told you not to.”

  “No! I—” She stumbled backward, panic searing through her at his palpable anger. His huge body crowded over hers.

  “Revenge, sweet thing? For me bringing you to ZU-NE? Is that what what your artful seduction was all about? To convince me I could trust you, so you could—”

  “No!” Her breath lodged hard in her lungs when he grasped her shoulders and yanked her up against his chest.

  “You want to try again?” he growled. “I crave you enough it just might work.”

  She was quaking so hard her teeth started to chatter. He didn’t understand. She had to make him understand.

  His mouth crashed down on hers. Brutal. Bruising. His tongue slashed over hers, punishing. She’d never known him like this before. So out of control. It terrified her.

  She tore her lips from his and wrenched her face away. “S-stop!” she stammered, digging her fingers into his biceps. “G-Gregg, s-s-stop!”

  He ground to a halt. His breath came fast and hard, his whole body coiled tight as a sailor’s knot. “No? Not into it? Too bad.”

  “Listen to me,” she pleaded hoarsely.

  “You’ve done enough talking.” He tried to pull away, but she grabbed him and clung. “Let go of me, Gina.”

  “I didn’t call STORM!” she cried, finding her voice. “Didn’t Quinn tell you?”

  “You really think I bought that story?”

  “But it’s true! I just went out for ice. I ran into Alex and Rebel in the hall. It was a total accident, Gregg, I swear it’s the truth.”

  He went still.

  She slid her arms around his rigid torso. “I’m sorry. Yes, I broke my promise and left the room. But I just wanted some ice. I never . . . Not in a million years did I think . . . I’m so sorry, Gregg. But I did not call them. Please, don’t be angry with me.”

  He stood silent for a long time. She could feel his rapid pulse where her breasts pressed into his chest. Her own heart beat wildly.

  “You’re really trying to tell me,” he finally said, “that STORM being at the same hotel as us was nothing more than a coincidence.”

  “Yes! They checked in last night. Before we even left New York. How could they know?” He didn’t answer. “Call the front desk if you don’t believe me!”

  Finally he moved. Set her away. Swore under his breath.

  This time she let him go. He paced to the window, whipped open the curtains and stood rigidly, his dark form silhouetted against the bright silver ribbon of the moonlit Potomac River and the twinkling lights of Virginia beyond.

  At length he turned and looked at her. “Okay. I believe you.”

  “Thank God,” she whispered, relief a living thing.

  He held out his hands to her. “Come here.”

  She rushed into his arms. “Oh, Gregg, I really am sorry.”

  After a moment he said, “I’m sorry, too. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have leapt to conclusions. Shouldn’t have shut down your explanation. I let my emotions rule my head. God knows, I should know better.”

  Emotions? Did that mean he actually felt something for her? Something more than simple lust?

  “Emotions aren’t always a bad thing,” she said softly, burrowing into his embrace. Letting the panic ebb away and the comfort of his physical presence wash over her. Maybe she had a chance with him, after all.

  “They’re always bad for a man like me,” he refuted. “My job, my life, all depend on keeping a clear head and being able to make rational decisions. Emotions will kill you every time.”

  Or so he thought. Because he’d learned long ago that love meant only pain, betrayal, and death. She understood that was why he always had to be in control, master of everything around him. Never trusting his emotions enough to let go and just feel.

  “You’re wrong,” she said with an aching heart as he leaned down to kiss her . . . a soft, melding, seductive kiss. She wanted so badly to be the one to show him that it didn’t have to be that way. That emotions and letting go could sometimes be a good thing. So very good. She dissolved into him with a sigh. “Oh, Gregg. Please. Let me show you how wrong you are.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  GREGG knew by making love to Gina again he was just digging himself a deeper emotional grave, but he wanted her too badly to resist. He needed her too badly.

  “My sweet Gina,” he whispered. “How I wish it were true.”

  He slid the robe from her shoulders. If there’d been any chance of being able to back away, it vanished when he realized she was naked under it. With a groan, he swept her into his arms and carried her to his bed.

  “How do you see in this darkness?” she murmured when he pulled off his sweatpants and followed her down onto the feather-soft quilt.

  “Instinct,” he murmured, and used it now to sense what she wanted most from him. She made it too easy. She put her arms around him and drew him down on top of her, guiding his lips to hers with a hand on his cheek.

  “What are your instincts telling you?” she whispered.

  “To kiss you,” he said, and covered her mouth with his. The taste of her poured through him, drowning him in a torrent of desire. He angled in deeper. He didn’t know what it was about this woman, but he could never get enough of her. Never taste her enough, never touch her enough. It was frightening how much he wanted her. The craving to own her completely, to control her every move, was a powerful, living thing within him.

  When he’d drunk himself dizzy, he lifted to trail kisses over her cheeks and eyes. He settled his body between her thighs, and she spread them wider, inviting him in.

  “What are they telling you now?” she asked.

  It had been too damned long. And those instincts were telling him she was ready. He reached over to the nightstand and picked up the handcuffs he’d tossed there earlier. He removed the key and tucked it under the pillow.

  “This.” He trailed them down her arm, letting her feel the cold metal against her skin.

  Her breath sucked in. “Gregg . . .”

  “It’s okay, baby. You trust me, don’t you?”

  He felt her heartbeat start to race. “Yes, but—”

  “With your life?”

  “Of course, but I—”

  “Remember all the times we’ve done this before?” He wanted it back. Needed her to be okay with it. With him. The way he really was. Not just this kinder, gentler version. He felt her nod reluctantly. “Did I ever hurt you?”

  “No,” she whispered. Her body undulated under his, pressing his cock against her crease. She’d started to tremble. “Can’t we just—”

  “I want you to know absolutely you have nothing to fear from me. I want to get back what we had before. Complete and utter trust between us.”

  He heard her swallow heavily. For an endless moment they lay there, almost but not quite joined, their bodies hot and pulsing with need for each other. “Okay,” she finally whispered.

  A thrill of anticipation sang through him. He tamped it back down. He must be gentle with her. He kissed her as he slid one cuff around her wrist and locked it. She let out a soft whimper as it snapped shut.

  “Listen to your instincts, sweetheart. What are they telling you?” he murmured into her mouth.

  “To trust you.”

  “Trust them,” he whispered. “Trust me.” He raised her arms above her head and threaded the free cuff around one of the wooden spindles of the antique four-poster bed, then put it ar
ound her other wrist. “Okay?”

  “Yes,” she managed.

  Her whole body was shaking now. From excitement? Or fear? Impossible to tell.

  His fingers sought her breasts. Her nipples were hard little knots, spiraling tighter at his touch. Excitement. He groaned and put his lips to one of them, sucking hard.

  She gasped. But it was definitely the good kind. A gasp of pleasure.

  He couldn’t wait any longer. He pulled back and slid into her with a single thrust. The slick, wet heat of her surrounded him, pulling twin groans from deep within them. He gathered her in his arms, holding her body tight and close under him. He withdrew and thrust home again. The handcuffs jingled.

  “Good?” he asked.

  “More,” she gasped out. Thank God.

  He almost lost it. He had to slow things down.

  “But first, this,” he said, swiftly pulling out. He shifted himself downward to give her an even more intimate kiss. She gasped low when his tongue circled and flicked, her slim form bowing up under him, letting him know his instincts were exactly right. She was so ready for him. For all of this.

  He filled his senses with her entirely, stoking his own excitement with her passionate response. She moaned his name, and an urgent spill of possessiveness shimmered through his blood. She was his completely.

  His.

  He lost himself in her delicious surrender to the mastery of his lips and tongue. He loved doing this to her, loved the stark sensuality of the act, loved the total submission it always brought her to. He could tease, incite, withhold, reward, all with lethal precision, to give her more pleasure than she could stand. With this, he ruled her body completely. And in doing so, his own pleasure increased tenfold.

  He finally let her come, riding the shuddering crest of her explosive release until she lay limp and helplessly spent beneath him.

  He quickly sheathed himself and levered back onto her. He kissed the lingering moan from her lips and thrust his cock deep into her. She hummed and lifted her legs, wrapping them around his waist, the way she knew he liked it.

  He enjoyed rough power sex, but this moment of acceptance was what he loved best of all. When he had conquered her completely, and she was warm and soft and open, helpless in the palm of his hand, all tied up and utterly his for the taking.