Deadly Chemistry (Entangled Ignite)

by Teri Anne Stanley

  “You sound like my grandmother.”

  “I’m going to pretend like you didn’t compare me to your grandmother. Although I’m sure she was a lovely person.”

  He smiled again. “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I do. And you’re right. I assume you’ve left him messages?”

  He nodded.

  She took a deep breath, then leaped off the cliff. “Okay, then why don’t you sit down and chill for a while. Maybe he’ll check in. Give it an hour. If he doesn’t call, I’ll go out looking for him with you. We’ll go to the Emergency Room and call the police.”

  “I already did that. The ER and police.”

  “Then we’ll do it again. Come on. I’ve got a boxed set of Dr. Who that I haven’t seen.”

  “Are you a big fan of Dr. Who?”

  “Not really.”

  He heaved a sigh of relief.

  She laughed. “Maybe we can find a movie on cable.”

  “Can it have bombs and car chases?”

  “Only if it’s also got The Rock or Jason Statham without a shirt.”

  He laughed, too, and followed her into the living room.

  …

  Mike tried to watch the movie. But his attention was divided between worrying about Dylan and smelling Lauren’s sweet fragrance, being warmed by her heat across the whole couch cushion between them, feeling her shift every now and then.

  Lauren didn’t seem too concerned about Dylan’s possible involvement in the vandalism and said that his work ethic and attention to detail were enough evidence that he was honest. That was a bit of a stretch for Mike, but he and Lauren came from two different worlds, where trust was concerned. She had a weird openhearted thing going on that Mike didn’t think could be faked. He hadn’t known many people who were that…nice.

  Here they were, sitting on the couch, watching a movie like they’d been dating long enough to stay in instead of going out. Like it was a date in the first place. That was a concept that didn’t disturb Mike as much as he might have preferred until he imagined her relying on him, trusting him to be there to do the right thing.

  A couple of times, Lauren got up and went into the kitchen, opened the back door, and called out for the cat she’d let outside.

  “Does he take off very often?”

  “No, he’s usually only gone for an hour or so at a time, then he jumps up and hangs onto the door molding until I open it.”

  “Well, maybe he’s got a girlfriend somewhere and he’s shacking up.”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  Mike dug his phone out of his pocket and checked the screen for the fiftieth time. Nothing.

  “If Dylan’s ignoring your calls,” she said, getting up and wiping buttery fingers on a paper napkin, “he might answer mine.”

  “Worth a try.”

  He watched her walk down the hall toward where he assumed was her bedroom. Her curves weren’t obvious, but she made the fuzzy bathrobe look mighty appealing. Damn. Maybe he should go before he made a move on her and forgot that he needed to find his brother .

  “Hey!” she called from the end of the hall, reappearing with her phone held high in triumph. “Guess who’s been texting me?”

  “No shit?” Mike stood up and met her in the middle of the living room. “What did he say?”

  “There are a bunch of texts here, and I don’t think they came in order.” She pushed some buttons and read for a minute, then laughed and handed Mike the phone.

  He took it from her, felt the brush of her hand during the exchange. She held onto his forearm and stood on tiptoe to look at the screen with him. He transferred the phone to his left hand and put his right arm around her shoulders so she could see.

  They both froze. She looked up at him, startled at his proximity. He started to remove his arm, but then she leaned into him and looked back at the phone.

  cant deal wth hs blsht rt now

  Just tkn wlk clr my head

  See mikes @ ur house. tell him im ok if hes lookn 4 me

  Mike typed back and hit send. Glad you’re ok. Call Evan. “I should make sure he goes home.”

  “No, you shouldn’t,” she said. “He’s a big boy.”

  She was probably right. But any time he’d left Dylan to his own devices, bad things happened. Was this a time when he needed to let go? Or was he rationalizing, because he just wanted to wrap himself around Lauren and explore her soft sweet skin until—

  Lauren’s phone buzzed again.

  Chapter Twelve

  If Mikes at ur hse NOT looking 4 me, tell him I won’t wait up.

  Lauren had never felt more like a nerd than she did in that moment, because she was only sort of sure she knew what Dylan was implying. And she didn’t need a mirror to know she was blushing. She could feel every capillary in her body dilating. Every nerve felt alive. So it was probably embarrassment that made Mike’s breath feel like a caress along her neck. There were probably some pheromone receptors in her skin that were flirting with his manly-man essences. Her vision was a little hazy, and her brain had definitely shut down, but the rest of her was alive and kicking.

  She felt the weight of his arm around her shoulders, his warmth and strength.

  “Sorry,” Mike said, low and soft, the vibration of his chuckle sending a thrill down her back. “He shouldn’t have said that.”

  Lauren opened her mouth to reply, but she stopped when she felt a brush of heat against the base of her skull. He had moved a little behind her, his arm circled around her waist. His open mouth barely moved over the skin of her neck, right where it met her shoulder.

  He pulled the phone from her hand, pushing the button that made the screen go dark, and she felt him drop it into the pocket of her robe.

  “I did come here looking for Dylan,” he said. “But I’m not looking for him now.”

  One big hand spread across her stomach, pressing her back against his front. She let her head fall back onto his shoulder, and his other hand came up to cradle her jaw, holding her head still for the caress of his lips along her collarbone. His breath quavered a bit, which made Lauren’s back arch, which in turn pressed her backside against his groin. He wanted her. She was suddenly—distinctly—less nerdy. Nerds avoided involvement with take-charge, alpha men. Nerds didn’t…blip with hot maintenance men. She was, she decided, definitely about to blip.

  “I’ll go if you think I should, but I’d like it if you let me stay.” Teeth scraped along the tendon at the side of her neck. “Just for a little while.”

  “Uh-huh,” was all she could get out.

  The hand on her jaw moved lower, parting the lapels of her robe to slide over her body to cup her breast. She covered his hand with hers, guiding him to press against a nipple that ached for more. Her mouth was open, she needed to do something with it, but what…? Kissing. Kissing would be good. She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth to hers. She was starving, and he was…tasty.

  Her body was swollen and achy, and she pressed against him for relief, but it wasn’t enough. He put his big hands on her backside and pulled her against his pelvis. She was tall enough that the apex of her mound met the base of his erection, and she stood on her tiptoes, trying to get higher, to get more contact between them. He lifted one of her legs and pulled her even closer to where she needed to be.

  The phone in her pocket chimed with an incoming text, causing them both to jump. Mike loosened his hold on her leg, and she stood on both of her feet again, breathing heavily. They stared at each other for an instant, then Lauren reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.

  Another text from Dylan.

  Close ur shades.

  “Ack!” Lauren stepped back from Mike, looking frantically toward the front window, which indeed bore neither shade nor curtain.

  “Jesus Christ,” Mike muttered, striding to the window. He peered into the darkness outside, but Lauren knew he couldn’t see anything, because her reflection, disheveled, panting, took up the
whole window. He pulled the cord that closed the drapes.

  The phone chimed again.

  Going home now. ;-)

  Mike came back to where Lauren stood, searching her eyes, letting her see how much he wanted her, but giving her room to back away. And maybe that’s why she was standing right there, with him, in this moment. As she stared back at him, she realized they were both in a weird place in their lives, both careers hanging because of some messed up drug dealer’s whim.

  She reached a hand to his face, feeling his hard jaw beneath faint stubble heating her palm. He didn’t move, but his eyelids lowered the tiniest fraction over pupils that expanded.

  Their paths would probably diverge soon enough, but for right now…right now they were in the same place, literally and figuratively, and Lauren, for one, wanted to stay a little longer.

  There were reasons she shouldn’t take this any further, she knew there were. She shoved them into a mental shoebox and crammed it out of sight.

  “This way,” she said, taking Mike’s hand. He let her pull him down the hall.

  Entering the bedroom, she saw that the shades were closed, but then pulled the drapes over them for good measure while Mike shut the door and turned the lock. “I live here alone,” she told him.

  “I don’t care. I don’t trust your cat not to let himself back in the house, and the only claws I want to feel on my ass are yours.”

  She huffed out a laugh when he pulled her back into his arms and kissed her again.

  They tumbled to the bed. Mike growled and pushed half a dozen throw pillows onto the floor. He pushed her onto her back as he leaned over her and opened her robe. They both watched him caress her breasts through the thin T-shirt she wore. He didn’t focus on her nipples, and instead pressed and molded her breasts, squeezing and making her gasp.

  He shot a quick glance at her face and must have recognized that the sound was from pleasure, not pain, because he repeated the move, dipping his head to finally take one nipple into his mouth, fabric and all. He sucked hard, then bit gently. Lauren writhed against him, until the need to touch her bare skin to his bare skin had her pulling away and shrugging out of her robe.

  He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it across the room. Lauren had a glimpse of a chest and belly that should be on the cover of a men’s health magazine. There were a couple of white scars running through the hair that covered his pecs before arrowing toward his navel and down into his jeans. He reached for her, grabbed the hem of her shirt, and pulled it over her head, but halted there, trapping her arms in the fabric. He pressed her back into the mattress, holding her wrists above her head. He dropped his full weight on top of her and kissed her again, tongue and lips sliding and sucking and nipping. His chest hair felt soft against her swollen, aching nipples.

  She parted her legs to feel his erection rock against her again and again through his denim and her pajama pants. It was almost perfect, almost…right there. Tension fought with surrender, and without warning, currents of feeling swamped her, and oh, God, she was coming, right there, right then. Waves of heat spread from her core through her spine and legs and arms. She heard herself cry out while every muscle in her body tightened to hold on to the feeling.

  When the orgasm eased, her arousal was only higher, and she wanted—needed—to feel him inside her. She took one of his hands and slid it between them. He rose slightly to his knees to let her get to his belt, but she was fumble-fingered.

  He rolled onto his back to get to the buckle, and she followed, straddling his thighs. She ran her hands along his thick arms, and he laughed, looking away from his belt to kiss her. “You’re not helping.”

  “Sorry. I just need…I want to touch you.”

  “Yeah, I’m on board with that.”

  Finally his buckle was undone, and it was her turn to push him back onto the mattress, slipping her fingers inside the waistband of his jeans to work at the button there. The soft hair on his stomach stroked the backs of her fingers, and she bent to kiss him just above his belly button. He sucked in a breath.

  She pulled the tab of his zipper, careful with the smooth head of his penis and the hard length below. She stopped to spread a drop of pre-ejaculate and sighed when he twitched under her hand. She’d never thought penises were particularly attractive, but this one should be in a textbook of extraordinary anatomy.

  She looked up at him, saw he was watching her face, felt him twitch again when their eyes met. “You always go commando?” she had to ask.

  “Uh…” His hands stroked her thighs and she wished her pajama pants would magically disappear. “I’ll plead the Fifth. Oh, God, do that again.”

  “What?” She looked down, saw that she had her hand wrapped around him and was holding on for dear life.

  “Squeeze me like that. Yeah.” His head arched back as he thrust into her hand. How could he be so powerful and vulnerable at the same time?

  “I need…” She started to push her pants down her hips.

  He began to do the same, but then he froze when he got his pants to mid-thigh. “Oh, no.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t suppose you have…” His jaw was tight, eyes wary.

  “You don’t have a condom in your wallet?”

  He shook his head.

  “I thought that was like, a guy rule.”

  He laughed ruefully and sat up, propping his elbows on his knees, jeans hindering his movements. “I ah, wasn’t planning on this. And I don’t usually have spontaneous sex…”

  That made her feel good. He had passion…but it didn’t make him crazy.

  “Ah, hell,” he said, starting to lean back and pull his pants up.

  “Maybe we could—” She ran her hand over his hard stomach, down…

  He interrupted her quest with a hand over hers. “It’s no big deal.”

  “It looks pretty big to me.”

  He snort-laughed but must have seen her consternation, because he stopped fighting his zipper. Pulling her into his arms, he flopped back onto the mattress with a groan, her head on his chest. He tucked her head back against him, buried his fingers in her hair. She was gratified that his hand was a little unsteady. “What I mean is, you’re not obligated to get me off, just because—”

  “Yeah, I know, I’m not obligated,” she said, letting a shred of peevishness slip out.

  “That didn’t come out right. Uh, it may be a few minutes before the blood starts flowing back to my brain. Maybe we can just lay here for a minute and let the blue fade—”

  She laughed. Okay, that helped. At first she was afraid that he was okay with calling a halt to things because he wasn’t too enthusiastic about things in the first place. Which was totally insecurity talking.

  She listened to his heartbeat under her ear for a few seconds, then muttered, “But I do want to reciprocate.”

  “Oh, darlin’, there isn’t too much I’d like more than that.”

  But the moment had passed, she recognized that. For now.

  She smiled, and he smiled right back at her, sending a thrill through her that somehow got stuck in the center of her chest.

  …

  Mike ran his hand down Lauren’s smooth back and then up to bury it in her hair, which was a golden mess. Her eyes flickered in the lamplight, and he lost himself in the caramel brown color…was that hazel? No, hazel was blue and green, or blue and—who the fuck cared?

  He’d given her beard burn—her cheeks and breasts were red. He felt absurdly proud of that, as though he’d marked his territory. Although, maybe giving her his class ring or letting her wear his letterman jacket—if he’d gotten one back in the day—would have been gentler on her silky skin.

  She was quiet, still snuggled up to him, but a little stiff, clearly thinking about something.

  “I should probably go?” His statement came out more of a question.

  She sat up, pulling the sheet up to cover her still naked breasts. “Are you asking me if I want you to go? ’Cause I don
’t want you to leave… I mean, you don’t have to stay…or whatever. I’m not like, you know, going to expect you to move in and ask me to marry you—I mean, I’m not gonna go all Fatal Attraction here, but you don’t have to rush off…” She sat up. “Oh, hell. I’m overthinking this, aren’t I? I don’t normally do this sort of thing, as trite as it sounds, and I don’t really know what the protocol is. I rarely even date, much less make out with guys I barely know.”

  “What about old what’s his name? Mister Pink Shirt, back at your lab on the first day we met?”

  “Alex?” She rolled her eyes. “Oh, there was protocol there. There was everything but a Yahoo calendar and a contract. Which is probably why we worked together for three years and were…involved…for about fifteen minutes.”

  As she spoke, he bent to untie the laces of his boots. He straightened and kicked them off, and then lay down next to her, but on top of the covers, facing her on his side. She lay back down, too. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, and he wanted to kiss her again. “I might stick around for a few more minutes,” he said. “My legs seem to be a little rubbery still.”

  “Oh.” She blushed.

  He had to reach out and push her hair behind her ear. “I don’t know if there’s a protocol here, either. It can be whatever you want it to be.”

  “Apropos of nothing but post-intimacy pillow talk, what’s with you and Evan?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Mike hedged. He wasn’t ready to take all the family skeletons for a walk in the light just yet. The thing with him and Evan…

  “It’s complicated,” she concluded for him. “Okay.”

  He shrugged. He wasn’t comfortable sharing his secrets. So why did he feel like opening up to her?

  “Evan can be a little hard to take sometimes.”

  “That’s a lot of it,” Mike agreed. At least, that was a lot of it now. It wasn’t where it had started, but he wasn’t going there. “I mean, I know he’s smarter than me. He’s got the diplomas to prove it, so maybe he’s earned that attitude.”

  “He doesn’t have more diplomas than I do.”

  “Your college probably didn’t give out the one for snobby brainiacs. Not that you would have been awarded that. Um, not the snotty part, at any rate. The brainiac part, though.” He couldn’t resist leaning over to kiss her. He appreciated that she didn’t talk down to him or downplay her own brainpower. Smart was very sexy.