Jesus, he should have known this would happen. They didn’t exactly have a hands-off track record. They only had to be in the same room for it to happen.
He buried his face in her scented hair, feeling her breath huffing against his throat with every downward drive. Mack steeled himself against the urge to come. He was hungry for her, and he wanted it to last. She was an intoxicating cocktail of beauty and sensuality and something else that he’d never been able to define. Like a delicate spice with a name forever out of reach. He concentrated on his movements to blank his mind of everything but filling her. Dammit, none of it mattered. He was where he wanted to be, and that was enough.
He slid out of her, feeling her small huff of complaint against his neck.
“Roll over.” She flipped onto her stomach and arched her butt up to him, resting her face on the pillow. So fucking sexy. He fitted himself inside her again, holding still to savor the sensation of her wet warmth wrapped around him. Curving his hands around her hips, he pumped her again, more gently now, watching her luscious ass flex in time with his thrusts. In this position, he was so deep inside her that she must be stretched to the limit. He slowed again to give her some respite. A lie. If he kept up this pace, he’d come—but he hadn’t had his fill of her. Slipping his hand under her, he rubbed her clit. She jerked forward at the contact, sliding off his cock, moaning loudly at the loss of him. Impaling her again, he touched her more carefully, gently stroking her as he took his own slow pleasure. He was back in control. But damn, she tested his staying power.
She pushed herself back on his shaft, trying to take more of him into her body even though he was balls deep.
“Harder,” she whispered.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Harder,” she instructed again. Mack clenched his jaw and gripped her hips to drive deeper, doing his damnedest to be gentle.
“Yes, yes,” she breathed.
They were drenched in sweat, each riding their own ferocious wave towards climax. Mack reached down to touch her clit again, but she was already there, stroking herself, so he covered her hand with his own, groaning when she gripped his finger and used it to pleasure herself.
Mack felt her core squeezing his cock. From the way she was wildly rubbing his finger over herself, she was ready to come. It was the green light he needed. Now he let himself go, his rhythm fast and deep, loving her tiny pants of exertion as she arched her butt to meet him at every stroke. She cried out, and Mack’s rhythm faltered as ecstasy consumed him.
Mack was shaking by the time he finally came to a stop, but even then, he wanted the sensation of her to last. Sitting back on his haunches, he pulled her with him, settling her into the saddle of his hips, savoring the feel of her sensuous warmth. She lay quiet, her face still resting on the pillow. Their tornado of passion was over. Sated. It should have felt good, but he felt as if a hollow had been gouged in his chest, leaving only emptiness.
“Mack.” The muffled sound came so softly it took him a moment to realize that she’d said his name.
“Are you okay?”
She shook her head into the pillow. “No.”
He froze. Christ, was she crying? He leaned forward to push the curtain of dark hair away from her face, but he couldn’t tell what she was doing with her hand scrunching the pillow up against her cheek. Sliding out of her, he turned her over. Tears streamed down her face, and his heart tore. “Come here.” He gathered her up in his arms, tucking her face into his shoulder. “I know you’re scared about the case, Gemma.”
“It’s not that,” she blubbered.
“Then what?”
She didn’t answer. He could feel her damp cheek against his skin as she wept. He gently massaged her back. Truth was, he didn’t know what else to do. She had him in knots.
“Can’t you tell me?”
She shook her head into his shoulder. He eased her away so he could see her face, but she nestled into him again, still weeping, so he held her and waited.
“I lied, Mack.”
He held his breath. “About what?”
“I don’t regret that you touched me.”
Good to know, but not exactly the words he’d hoped to hear.
“That’s a relief,” he sighed. “Fucking each other seems to be what we do best.”
Was that a sniffle or a giggle?
“Do you think anyone saw us at the window?”
Mack barked a rough laugh. “Probably. Your scream would’ve woken up the whole block.”
She lifted her head to look at him with solemn eyes. Even red-eyed and cherry-nosed and hiding her secrets, she could still captivate him. “That’s your fault,” she sniffed.
“Is that right? How’s your head?”
“Fine.” Her face went back to his shoulder.
Yeah, she was a glorious creature. And vulnerable. In the next few days, all hell would break loose. Hutch had briefed him. Lawrence’s threat to go to the media had only delayed the inevitable. Mack curled his fingers in her dark hair. If only she would confide in him, he might be able to help her.
He decided to give it one last try. Grasping her hair, he eased her head back. “Talk to me, Gemma. Tell me what you’re thinking right now.”
She looked at him, her blue eyes searching his, and he thought she was finally about to open up. But then the blue clouded, and she turned her head away. “I have to go. Kyle gave me orders not to discuss the case.”
She wouldn’t talk. And it wasn’t just the jackass’s orders that kept her silent. She didn’t trust him, and it hurt.
“Get dressed. I’ll take you home,” he growled, lifting her away from him. He hadn’t intended to sound harsh, but it was probably better this way. Slipping off the bed, he removed the condom and dragged on his jeans and T-shirt, waiting for her to dress.
Taking his keys from the coffee table, Mack picked up her panties. “You’ll want these,” he said, holding out the flimsy, ripped lace.
She put them in her bag. They both stood awkwardly, neither knowing what to say.
Mack walked her to the door. Pulling it open to let her pass, he waited while Gemma turned to gaze around the apartment, as if memorizing the place. She wouldn’t be back. This was their swansong, and they both knew it. In two days, he would leave for his next undercover assignment.
By then, Gemma would be under arrest.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Honestly, I’m fine on my own.”
Why hadn’t she suggested going to his place? Even if Kyle misinterpreted that as a “let’s get back together” gesture, at least she could have left when she was ready. Now she was stuck with him in her apartment. Okay, that was mean. The poor guy had been dragged away from an important meeting to save her sorry ass from spending a night in jail.
The police had arrested her early that morning, followed by an appearance before a judge six hours later. Kyle had performed like a star, successfully arguing for bail despite the prosecution’s contention that Gemma was a flight risk, especially with $50 million waiting to be claimed.
So, here she was. Back home, safe and sound.
With Kyle.
“You really don’t need to stay, you know,” she tried again, feeling guilty for wanting to be alone. Would it be too ungracious to fake tiredness as an excuse to escape to her bed? Yes, it would, she scolded herself. For all Kyle’s lecturing to stay away from Mack, and his disgust when she hadn’t, he was still standing by her.
She watched him carefully measure two spoons of coffee into the French press, then fill it to the brim with boiling water. Okay, she’d give him two hours and then fake tiredness. After all, it was true enough. She needed to take a shower and go to bed.
Strange to think that Mack had stood in that exact same spot a few days ago, fixing her breakfast. Kyle pulled two mugs from the cupboard and checked them for coffee stains. Gemma sighed. He was so fastidious.
“You shouldn’t be alone, Gem. Besides, there’s a lot to go over. We have a defe
nse to prepare.”
That wasn’t the real reason Kyle had insisted on driving her home and coming up. The trial had to be months away. No, he was here to talk about Mack and why she’d gone to his apartment. Why she would involve herself with a man like that? She didn’t know herself, let alone how to explain it to him.
“How bad is it?” she asked, pouring the coffees and sliding onto a stool. Of course it was bad. As bad as it got. Her career was history, regardless of the outcome. No auction house would touch her after this.
Kyle sat on the stool next to her and added milk to his coffee. “I won’t lie to you. It will be tough to convince a jury that you thought the Bonvalet was real. Not after the prosecution’s witnesses testify to your expertise.” He laughed dryly. “I’d have to show you were incompetent, and your track record says otherwise. Besides, with Sorensen’s testimony ... well, it won’t be easy.”
“But he’s lying.”
“That’ll be hard to prove. He knew about our trip to Venice. The name of the hotel. All of it. Besides, the prosecutor will say Sorensen has no reason to lie.”
“So why has he?”
Kyle tested his coffee and added more milk. “I’ll put the firm’s top investigator on it. Sorensen has implicated you for a reason. We just need to figure out what it is.”
“You know that American tourist who spoke to us in the hotel bar?”
Kyle frowned while he sipped his coffee. “Yeah. Said he’d been on a gondola ride or something. What about him?”
“Could it have been Sorensen?”
“Possibly. Why do you ask?”
She tried to ignore his suspicious look.
“Oh nothing. I just thought there might be a connection.”
Kyle’s tone switched to lawyer mode. “Tell me, who put the idea into your head?”
“No one,” she answered, feeling her cheeks warm under his hard stare.
“No one by the name of Buchanan?”
“Okay, well ... yes. He said Sorensen was at the hotel, that’s all. I thought of the tourist. It’s probably nothing.”
Kyle’s mug went down with a small thud. “What did you tell him?”
“I didn’t tell him about the tourist, if that’s what you mean.”
“Thank God for that. Buchanan tried to set you up. He’d say you confessed to meeting Sorensen.” He dragged his hand over his head, and Gemma noticed for the first time how strained he looked. “What in God’s name possessed you go to his apartment, anyway?”
Crunch time. The conversation she’d dreaded.
“He said he wanted to talk. I thought he might tell me something useful.”
“In other words, he lured you.”
Had he? It hadn’t taken much in the way of luring to get her there.
“It wasn’t like that.”
“So what was it like?”
“He lives in a loft,” she said, deliberately misunderstanding him. “We talked about his decorating.” Decorating? Good Lord, couldn’t she think of something better than that? “It’s on the top floor of a twenty-story apartment block,” she added unnecessarily.
When in a hole, stop digging, Gemma.
“Really,” he said dryly. “Anything more to add?”
The hole got bigger.
“Oh ... well, it has leather sofas and beautiful oriental rugs.”
“And the bed?”
“It’s enormous. Oh, for goodness’ sake, Kyle, it was nothing. I came straight home as soon as I realized he wasn’t going to talk.” This was worse than explaining to her mother why she was home late from school.
“At first, I thought your behavior was some kind of transgression.” He paused to let the word hang in the air between them like the sword of Damocles. “But now I can see that you actually care for that bastard. Do you?”
“No!” She set her own coffee mug down firmly. “How could I?” she added, as if her question could make the truth untrue. Sure, she loved his body, but hell, any woman would love that. Actually caring about him would make her the biggest fool in the world. “He was just good at—”
“Sex?” Kyle queried, his eyebrows floating high.
Too late to rephrase.
“That’s not what I meant. I was going to say, ‘at tricking me.’” How ridiculous and weak that sounded. “So tell me,” she rushed on, to get off the subject, “where is Sorensen now?”
“Still in Venice, awaiting extradition. That’ll take several months. At least it buys time for us.” Kyle stared into his coffee.
“Kyle, maybe someone else should represent me on this case.”
He shook his head in answer, still looking down.
“Under the circumstances, don’t you think it would be best?” she urged. “You have other cases.”
His hand went up to silence her protest. “I’m your attorney, no arguments.”
“So what happens now? I mean with the trial?”
“There’ll be a hearing, and a trial date set.” He looked up, his blue eyes seeking hers. “I forgive you, Gem.”
“Forgive?” she echoed, puzzled but at the same time dreading what was about to say.
“For being with him. You’ve been under so much stress, so I can understand how you’d get carried away.” He smiled sadly. She didn’t know what to say, so she stayed silent.
“After all,” he continued, “I thought I loved Miranda.”
Gemma slowly slipped off her stool and walked around the counter to put her mug in the dishwasher. Leaning back against the edge of the sink, she crossed her arms and stared at the floor.
“Kyle, whatever you think—”
“Marry me, Gem.”
Her head snapping up and her mouth hanging open must have looked like a yes to Kyle because his face suddenly lit up. “A small ceremony and Paris or London for a honeymoon. Anywhere you want.”
He was halfway around the counter with his arms out before Gemma found words.
“And Miranda?” she spluttered.
“She moved out.” He actually smirked with his news.
“How convenient.”
He didn’t seem to notice her sarcasm, or he didn’t care. “Under the circumstances, I didn’t think you’d want a big wedding. You are facing a serious criminal charge, after all. Something discreet would be best. For both our sakes.”
“Gee, it’s a wonder you want to marry me at all,” she muttered.
That only widened his smirk.
“That’s the thing. I don’t care. I just want you.”
Good grief. He was really serious about this. From his expression, Kyle obviously expected her to throw herself into his arms.
“But I don’t want you,” was all Gemma could think of to say.
Kyle’s eyes rounding in bewilderment would have been comical in any other situation. He looked like a child denied an ice cream at the movies.
“I know it’s not exactly good timing, so take a couple of days to think about it.”
Gemma rammed home the message. “It’s over,” she said, flinching at her bluntness. Kyle’s backhanded proposal might be clumsy and thoughtless, but at one time, she’d been more than happy to accept his offer. “Kyle, I don’t want to hurt you. I’ll always be fond of you, respect you, and be your friend if you need me, but it can’t be like it was.”
Heavens, that sounded so cliché.
“Of course, this will disappoint your mother.”
She had never realized until that moment how manipulative Kyle was. “My mother has nothing to do with this.”
He looked at her, almost pityingly. “She told me that after your father died, she despaired that you’d ever find the right man.”
Gemma rolled her eyes. “The right man being wealthy?”
Kyle looked slightly uncomfortable, but it didn’t stop him or even slow him down. “I can give you everything you could possibly need, Gem. As my wife, you’ll be there to support my career. Who knows, you could end up the wife of a governor.”
He looked so pr
oud of himself she could only shake her head. “I don’t believe this.”
“But I can look after you. You know that.” His brow wrinkled in confusion.
When he reached for her, she stepped away. “No. I don’t believe what I’m hearing. I think you’d better leave.”
He didn’t move, so she stalked past him toward the door. “Now would be good.”
“You think Buchanan is going to come back, don’t you? Yeah, he’ll be back all right. As a witness for the prosecution.”
She froze on the spot, barely breathing as Kyle’s words sunk in. Words said in spite, but that didn’t make them any less true. When Mack had dropped her off at her apartment two days ago, she’d assumed he wouldn’t be back. Never had it crossed her mind that he might testify in court against her.
“But ... ” Gemma had to stop for a moment to think. “But surely he can’t do that. I mean he’s a government agent or something. Would they let him testify?”
“He’s a threat,” Kyle answered ambiguously, walking over to her to slip an arm around her shoulders, drawing her to him. “But don’t worry about Buchanan. I can deal with him.” He pulled her closer. His body felt strange to her now. Cold and uninviting.
“The thing is, Gem,” he continued, squeezing her shoulder, “you need looking after.” He ducked his head to look at her, and she recoiled at his patronizing smile.
Wrenching herself from his hold, Gemma pulled opened the door. “Goodbye, Kyle.”
Kyle stood in the doorway, not moving. “You’ll realize how much you need me when Buchanan comes back.” When Gemma didn’t respond, he stepped into the passage, turning to fire a parting shot.
“That bastard will ruin everything for you.”
No. Mack had already done that.
• • •
She showered, changed into jeans and a blouse, and took a cab to the Enright. It was late afternoon, but she still had an hour before closing. This had been her most precious place when she wasn’t working. Now it felt like a sanctuary.
Whirlwind Romance: 10 Short Love Stories Page 19