Exposing Justice

by Misty Evans

  He’d had enough. Stepping back from the door, he lifted his leg and kicked right above the doorknob.

  The hollow core door exploded in a spray of splinters, the lock buckling and ripping pieces of the frame off with it.

  Hope was on the bed as suspected, curled around a pillow. At the noise, her head jerked up and her tear-wet eyes went big as saucers.

  Brice went to her side, sat down next to her, and pulled her into his arms.

  For half a second, she was stiff. “What are you doing?” And then she didn’t wait for his response before her shoulders started to shake and she melted into him.

  Crying women had always made him nervous. Usually, he did whatever it took to get away from them. This time, though, the woman crying in his arms made him want to rail against the world. Nothing and no one could peel him away from her. Protect.

  Yeah, the alpha male in him had hit Code Red the moment he’d seen that car on the bridge gunning for her. Now, he could finally let that side have its way.

  “Let it out, Hope.” He stroked her back and held her close, her tears soaking through his shirt. “And just so you know, the Supreme Court does stand for truth and justice and I think Justice Turner would have admired your determination to uncover his murder and see justice is done.”

  She lifted her head and sniffed. “You do?”

  Digging out a white hanky from his back pocket, he handed it to her. “Hell, yes. I certainly admire you. So don’t give up on the White House just yet, okay? A journalist with your grit and resolve can do anything she puts her mind to.”

  She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Her eyes were red and puffy but she still looked beautiful to him. “You’re only saying that to get me to stop crying.”

  He put a hand to his heart. “I’m wounded you would say that. I love bawling women.”

  She smacked his arm. “Smart ass.”

  They both laughed and she blew her lips out in a heavy sigh. Then she snuggled up to him again, her arms circling his waist. She laid her head on his shoulder, her warm breath caressing his skin. “First, I’m nearly run over, then I’m suspended, now my boyfriend has a hit put out on him. Could this flippin’ week get any worse?”

  Boyfriend? “Boyfriend?”

  She tensed. “Well, I meant, um…you’re my friend, right? And you’re a boy, right? So that’s…yeah…forget it. That’s not at all what I meant. I meant boyfriend. There, I said it.”

  Ho-kay, then. He patted the back of her head somewhat awkwardly, although he was totally digging the teenage-sounding term. “I warned you getting involved with me was dangerous.”

  She sighed against his neck. “And yet, here I am, in an apartment in Chinatown, on the brink of being fired and watching my future go up in flames, and instead of running for the hills and pleading temporary insanity to my boss, I’m snuggling up to you.” One of her hands slowly rubbed over his chest. “What the hell is wrong with me, because this is the most alive I’ve felt in...oh, I don’t know...forever maybe.”

  She had totally lost her mind. He was sure of it. Stopping her hand when it started to descend lower, Brice scooted a couple inches back and looked her in the face. Her eyes were clear again, her cheeks pink from crying.

  Or maybe from lust.

  Was this what normally happened after a woman had a good cry?

  He couldn’t make a case for delayed shock. Temporary insanity, like she’d said, however, might just fit the bill. “I’m going to hide you away and keep you safe until I can expose who put the hit on Turner and bring him, and the actual killer, to justice.”

  “Hide?” She looked appalled. “I’m not hiding.”

  “Hope, this isn’t an ice cream social for the glee club. This is life-and-death.”

  Her fingers touched his cheek. “You would risk your life to keep me safe?”

  “Of course I would. You don’t belong in his world. I dragged you into it. Protecting you is my highest priority at this point.”

  “And it’s not at all because you might, sort of, kind of want to be my boyfriend?”

  Was she kidding? He took her chin between his fingers and tilted her face up. “I want to take you in every position imaginable and then do it again. I want to take you to restaurants and movies and all the normal things people do as a couple. But I’m not normal. My life isn’t normal. You deserve better than that.”

  She took one of his hands and brought it to her breast. “I know I’ve been thinking nonstop about it. The other night, I mean. Even in the midst of everything else—being irritated with you, being put on suspension, finding out I could be in real danger—I keep wondering, if my world really did come to an end today, what would I regret?” Raising her head, she brushed her lips against his. “The only thing I’d truly regret is not being with you.” Her lips spread into a wide, mischievous smile. “I want to seduce you, Hawk.”

  Seduction. She’d been seducing him since he’d first heard her sexy voice on the phone.

  He started to protest—he would not take advantage of her in this state—and then she leaned forward and nipped his bottom lip.

  There weren’t many times in his life when Brice admitted defeat. This might be one of them. “Bad idea, brat.”

  She grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged none too gently. His cock twitched. “Did you just call me a brat?”

  His answer was to kiss her and shut her the fuck up.

  Her mouth was warm and Brice tasted the salt from her tears on her lips. He parted those lips and dipped his tongue inside, a rush of satisfaction raced through him when she moaned and arched into him.

  This is wrong.

  But could something this wrong feel so damn right?

  The invitation to sex was so obvious, he’d be stupid to confirm it. He did so anyway.

  “Hope,” he said, pulling back. She was inexperienced with the dark side of life and he’d dragged her into that without thought. Now she was paying the price. He wouldn’t drag her into a sexual affair without making damn sure she understood the consequences. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

  The storm outside had intensified, a dull thunder rattling the windows. She clung to him, trying to catch her breath. “Yes. It’s what I want. I mean, that was my tongue making its way down your throat.”

  There was that. “I know you want sex, but...you know I’m not relationship material.”

  This time she took both of his hands and put them on her breasts. “Can we talk about this later? Maybe you can just shut up and kiss me again. I love it when you kiss me. I forget about everything else.”

  And there was the rub. The invitation to sex had morphed into the promise of sex without commitment.

  She was using him to forget.

  As she leaned forward and teased his lips with her tongue, Brice’s moral fiber was sorely tested.

  “You kicked the door down,” she said, her breath soft on his mouth. “God, that’s sexy.”

  Oh, hell. He was no saint and she knew it. He’d shown her his hand and been totally honest and upfront.

  She wanted him anyway.

  To forget.

  Technicality. Once he made love to her, she’d never forget him. The alpha male in him rose once again to the surface.

  He took her mouth with force; she gasped at the contact, opening on the quick inhale and allowing him deeper access. With his tongue down her throat this round, he forced her onto her back, pressing her into the bed and hearing the springs groan in protest.

  She rocked under him, her fingers digging into his back, nails scratching him right through his shirt. He rode her through their clothes for a moment, then created enough space between their bodies to undo the buttons on her shirt, one at a time. He kissed his way down the curve of her neck and into the hollow of her shoulder as he revealed her luscious skin, inch by creamy inch.

  He didn’t stop kissing her as he undressed her from the top down. His lips teased her clavicle and the dip between her breasts as his hands massaged th
ose glorious mounds through her lacy bra. Once he had the bra off, his fingers went to work on the clasp of her slacks, his mouth moving to her stomach.

  She sucked in a breath when he flicked his tongue out and edged the top of her underwear with it. He felt her muscles tense for a panicked moment as he thumbed her through the silk, but then she ran her fingers through his hair and said, “More, please.”

  It sounded so funny, so like her—that please—he nearly laughed. “My pleasure, girlfriend.”

  She raised her head and arched a brow.

  He kissed her stomach. “Well, you are a girl and my friend, right?”

  That earned him a smack on the head.

  He stroked her and her head fell back against the pillow again. “Bodyguard with benefits,” she said and her voice was barely above a husky whisper. “My BWB. I like it.”

  Would she ever stop talking? He deepened his stroke, over and over, until he was sure from the way her body squirmed, she was mindless again. And then he slid one finger under the lace edge of her panties and found her clitoris.

  “Oh, my God,” she said, but she moved hard against his hand, wanting more, so he kept going.

  She was beautiful, her head thrown back, her lips parted, eyes closed. The picture of happiness. Satisfaction.

  I did that, he thought, seeing the new flush to her skin, the way she was half-smiling as he worked her toward orgasm.

  Legs splayed around him, her body moved in rhythm with his hand, hot and needy as the rain fell outside. He couldn’t help it, he needed to taste her. Shifting his fingers, he slipped one inside her. She moaned and he slipped in another, bending to taste her at the same time.

  She cried out, shuddering against his mouth as the orgasm hit, and Brice smiled to himself. There would be no more tears tonight.

  Orgasms, Hope decided, should be right up there with chocolate cake and milk shakes and her Aunt Lulu’s famous meatloaf. No joke. That meatloaf was spectacular.

  Right along with the mind-blowing climax she’d just experienced from Hawk the master of the big O.

  She let out a little sigh when he trailed kisses up her belly, up, up, up to her wildly sensitized breasts and she grabbed hold of his hair, dragged him up until they were face to face.

  “Amazing,” she said.

  “Plenty more where that came from,” he said.

  Instinctively, she spread her legs, like they’d done this a hundred—a thousand—times before. Taking his cue, he settled in between them, his erection most definitely pressing against her and then he did it. He smiled at her and the girls in her uterus howled.

  She wanted him.

  Fast.

  Wanted to feel that oneness, that connection that came with a man—this man—being inside of her.

  She stared up at him, met his gaze as a streetlight threw shadows across the upper part of the wall and darkened ceiling. Someone had tilted the blinds up, instead of down, giving the room an eerie, wicked glow that only added to the exquisite night.

  Already she was gone.

  Because this is what happened with men she chose to become intimate with. She got attached. Too quickly. And she knew it and somehow could never stop the landslide of emotions that fooled her into believing she’d found the one.

  Not this time. He’d been clear about it. Making sure she understood he was a lone wolf. A free spirit who didn’t do relationships.

  So she’d made up that crap about being fuck buddies. The term was so distasteful she couldn’t bring herself to say it aloud.

  But they were consenting adults. Even if her emotions tried to whack her out, she’d control it this time. She would.

  That alone made this time different. Right? Right.

  She’d be okay. She could do it.

  Hawk slid into her and she gasped, arching against the intrusion, but at the same time widening her legs, wanting more. He stopped—no, no, no—looked down at her, his eyebrows drawn.

  “You okay?”

  Oh, she was better than okay. And she’d prove it. She clamped her hands over his rear, pulling him closer, needing him deeper because, holy moly, that felt good. Older guys. Who knew?

  He dipped his head low, nuzzled her neck. “I guess that’s a yes.”

  “It’s definitely a yes.”

  “Good.” He pushed deeper and groaned. “Damn, Hope, you’re amazing.”

  She pulled her legs up, needing him deeper still because she couldn’t get enough. Not nearly. She wanted...she wanted...him.

  All of him.

  Hawk picked up his pace, rocking his hips, each thrust bringing her already over-sensitized body closer to that fantastic edge he’d already pushed her over. She reached up, cupped his cheeks and brought him down to kiss her, a gentle melding of their lips while each thrust nearly split her in two. More.

  More.

  More.

  And a beautiful explosion of light swirled inside her head and she closed her eyes. Let it happen. Let that moment build and come to her again. Please. Her core tightened and she breathed through it as her breasts tingled and...her body grew more taught, a vicious coil—don’t stop. Layer upon layer, the tension mounted and she gripped the edges of the sheet—hold on, hold on, hold on.

  Yes...her body gave in, handed over control, and simply exploded into more swirling lights. She drew a long breath, desperately trying to cling to the warm buzz shooting through her. She sank deeper into the creaking bed, focused on Hawk, above her, still moving inside her.

  “Fantastic,” she said.

  But then he arched away, throwing his head back, squeezing his eyes closed and she knew. So close. She wanted to see it. Wanted to give him what he’d given her.

  She smacked her hands over his rear again, drove him deeper and pumped her hips, waiting, waiting, waiting to see him come apart.

  “Hope, I’m...”

  He drove into her one last time and cried out, holding himself up as his body stiffened and then his face, those granite features that were so tense just seconds ago, eased.

  She touched his face, ran her thumbs over his cheeks, smoothing the lines that reminded her he had eleven years on her.

  He liked to gently remind her of those things. That he’d experienced more, understood the world more, sacrificed more.

  And apparently had way more sex because the man had some skillz.

  But she’d concede his greater experience. On all fronts. Simple math. He could still learn from her though. Learn about faith in humankind. He needed that.

  Needed her.

  And here we go...

  The falling in love was complete. What the hell had she just done?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Hope lay on the lumpy bed staring straight up at the ceiling and those slashes of light washing over it.

  Beside her, Hawk shifted to his side and without bothering to look at him she knew he was studying her. Could feel it in the sudden change in the atmosphere, the awkward we-did-that silence morphing the energy from passion and heat and laughter to a death zone. But she wouldn’t give up on her fascination of the ceiling. Nope. Not right now.

  Because looking at Hawk, after he’d just rocked her already-quaking world would be a mistake. Oh, she’d been in the death zone before. She was Hope Denby, senseless romantic searching for Mr. Right in every flipping man that took her on two-point-five dates. Yes, she’d averaged them all.

  That’s how pathetic she could be.

  Each time she started dating someone, if there was even a little, bitty spark, her heart got ahead of her brain and—bam—she started buying wedding magazines. Well, maybe the magazines were a stretch. But out of the last four men she’d dated, she’d convinced herself she loved three of them.

  Hawk might up her average to four out of five. But something with him was different. With him, she felt calm and safe and alive. Settled. And that had never happened before.

  She sighed.

  Not doing this. Not this time.

  “Hope? Are you ev
er going to look at me?”

  For another few seconds she kept her gaze fixed, unwavering, as her thoughts stormed and railed against her because she was a fraud. A fake. A conniver. A woman who’d lied about being able to keep things casual simply to get this man to screw her.

  Enough.

  She turned her head, and even through the darkness, met his gaze. “Hawk, I lied.”

  And what a horrible lie it was. As if she, the girl who’d been a virgin until her twenty-first birthday could really buy into the friends with benefits thing? She simply didn’t have the emotional fortitude for it. Sex, for her, couldn’t be casual. When she slept with a man, it was intense and all-consuming. Deliriously so. She loved that about sex. That attachment. That melding of two people. The connection.

  Fuck buddies didn’t get that. They skipped all that and went straight to the orgasm. The big bang. Which she could get from her trusty vibrator.

  “You lied? About?”

  “Well, call it a lie by omission. I’m notorious for falling in love. Every time I like a guy I convince myself I’m in love.”

  “Uh...okay.”

  “I don’t want to do it this time. I mean, I like you. A whole lot. For that reason, I don’t want to get ahead of things.”

  He shook his head, lifted his free hand and rubbed his eyes.

  Confused. Who could blame him?

  “Look, Hope—”

  “I’ve never been a casual sex girl. Being with you, I could feel that emotional pull. That yearning to be part of your life. To be your other half. And that’s not fair. I unintentionally tricked you and I don’t want to be that person.”

  For once, she cared too much, about him, about herself and what little self-esteem she had left after this horrendous day, to mislead him. To let him think this could be casual for her.

  Propping himself up on one elbow, he shook his head. “So, you want a relationship?”

  “No.”

  “Christ, Hope. You’re totally screwing with me here.”