The Strong Silent Type

by Marie Ferrarella

  Demands slammed into each other, the rest of their clothing disappeared in a tangled puff of smoke generated by desire, by passion, by the sheer force of wills coming together.

  And then he surprised her again.

  He slowed down. To explore, to caress, to anoint. Hawk held her hands above her head as he made himself achingly familiar with every part of her, taking her prisoner even as he himself was imprisoned.

  She twisted and turned beneath the warmth of his mouth, the heat of his gaze. With each pass of his tongue, his hot breath, she felt she died a little by inches, ready to endure death by exquisite torture.

  And then her will rose to the surface. It wasn’t in her nature to merely be a recipient, to take without giving. Her independence took over.

  Breaking free, Teri pushed the man who had shaken the very foundations of her existence back on the bed. Straddling him, she leaned over Hawk until her breasts just barely brushed against his chest, her hair tickling his skin, her breath destroying his resolve.

  With slow, deliberate motions, she took the time to feast on his neck, savoring the dark tastes she discovered. Everything was a revelation, an adventure of the highest degree. She heard his breath shortening, becoming labored as she pressed her lips to his flesh. This reaction empowered her even as it chained her to him.

  She began her own road to exploration, her fingers seeking out every part of him, her lips following the trail that had been forged. Exciting herself even as she strove to excite him.

  She was driving him out of his mind.

  This wasn’t a planned seduction, or even an unplanned one. But since it was happening, Hawk was accustomed to having the upper hand. That he didn’t here, that this slip of a woman held him in the palm of her hand from the moment she’d turned her mouth up to his, scared the hell out of him.

  But he couldn’t seem to pull back, couldn’t force himself to break free no matter how much he counseled himself to do it. And that scared him even more. Scared him because it gave Teri Cavanaugh power over him. And if she had power, she could abuse it. Could render him helpless.

  He couldn’t allow that.

  He couldn’t stop it.

  At least, not yet. Later, he’d get up and pick up all the pieces, reconstructing himself, making himself into what he’d been less than half a hour ago. For now, he wanted to enjoy her, to enjoy this sensation Teri created inside of him, this excitement that seemed to be heightening with each and every second that passed.

  He’d reined himself in to prove to himself that this had no real power over him. That he was in control, could change the tempo whenever he wanted. Could even walk away if he so chose.

  But all he’d managed to do was get himself more tightly trapped—like someone fighting against quicksand. The more he struggled, the deeper he sank.

  He didn’t care.

  Not now.

  Later, he’d care. Later there would be damage control and fences to urgently mend. Right now, there was only her, only this wild magical flame that burned far brighter than anything he’d ever experienced before.

  Watching Teri out of the corner of his eye, he brought her up to a climax, not once, but several times, as if to prove to himself that he could. But this made him want her more.

  Like the drugs he’d sworn he’d never touch, the drugs that destroyed his parents long before their deaths, one taste only made him want more. Need more. Crave more.

  Controls disintegrated.

  He could hear her breathing hard, trying to catch her breath.

  Or was that him?

  The sounds mingled, becoming one. He wanted to do the same. He couldn’t hold himself back any longer. It was time.

  Hawk pulled himself up over her body, brushing along the length of her, his eyes fastened to hers. With his knee, he moved her legs apart.

  His pulse went erratic as he felt her legs encircle his.

  With a guttural cry escaping his lips, he drove himself into her, hard, fast. Teri tightened her arms around him, welcoming him. Making him want her even more and not knowing how the hell that could be humanly possible.

  The dance began. The wild, torrid dance destined to reach the stars that revolved in her head. She clung to him, to the ever-increasing tempo, to the ever-growing yearning for the final explosion.

  And then it came.

  The surprise, the wonder of the intensity made her cry out—she had no idea what. The euphoria came, wrapped up in exhaustion. Her heart felt as if it were going to burst through her chest.

  She felt his weight slacken and then felt him slide from her body. She wanted to curl up against him. Was that weakness? She didn’t know, didn’t care.

  Rather than analyze, than worry, she curled her body against his.

  He hesitated for a moment, reason returning in slow dribbles and drabs. The first thought that echoed through his brain was This is wrong.

  But even this thought was singed in the fire that still moved through his body, still smoldered, unwilling to be completely extinguished.

  What the hell had just happened here? He’d been all but castrated and he was grinning to himself. At least inwardly. The energy required to smile outwardly eluded him at the moment.

  He couldn’t resist the way she curled into him. He knew he should, for his own self-preservation, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t strong enough yet. So he slipped his arm around her and held her to him.

  Teri rested her head against his chest. He could feel each breath she exhaled as it moved along his skin, a silent, unwitting invitation.

  He could feel the remnants of desire glowing in the ashes that had once been his resolve.

  Damn, he wanted her again. Barely recovered and he wanted her again.

  He had to be losing his mind.

  “Well, this is a first,” he murmured.

  She raised her head to look at him just then, amusement playing along her lips. He had an urge to wipe the smile off her face with the only resource he had available. His own mouth.

  “Don’t tell me you’re a virgin,” she teased. “Because if you are, that’s the best display of raw talent the world has ever encountered.”

  Had she just told him that he’d rocked her world the way she had his? Or was she putting him on? He never knew how to read her.

  Mischief danced in her eyes. Why hadn’t he noticed how bright they were, how they could delve into him?

  “No.” He shifted a strand of her hair through his fingers. “But I’ve never slept with my partner before.”

  “You still haven’t.” She saw him look at her quizzically. “As I recall, absolutely no sleeping took place.”

  He laughed softly. No, no sleeping took place. “You know what I mean.”

  “No,” she said quite honestly. “I don’t know what anything means right now.” She sighed as if all the air was being drained out of her. “Because up is down and black is white and the whole damn world has just turned sideways on its axis.” She punctuated her statement by pressing a kiss to his chest.

  She saw what looked like desire taking root in his eyes.

  Hawk dove his fingers through her hair, cupping her head back just a fraction. His voice was low. “It was pretty much that way for me, too.”

  Something stirred within her she was really afraid to put a name to, negating all her silence assurances to herself about what she was feeling. “Oh, damn, Hawk. Just when I think I’ve got you all figured out, you throw me a curve like this one.”

  He smiled into her eyes, his hand trailing along the swell and dip of her body. Feeling stirred in his own. Desire galvanized him. “How do you feel about catching another one?”

  He saw the laughter in her eyes, coupled with surprise. Felt desire springing up in his loins. “You ready to throw another one so soon?”

  He pulled her closer to him still. “Try me.”

  His body was hard from wanting. Her own moistened in preparation. The real world with its regrets, with its consequences, was left behind. She didn�
��t want to think now any more than she had before. She just wanted to feel as if she were on fire again.

  “I have tried you.”

  “And?”

  Her eyes smiled into his. “Please, sir, I want some more.”

  He vaguely recognized it as a quote from Oliver Twist. It was the last thought to pass through his mind for quite some time.

  More exhausted than she thought was humanly possible, Teri finally made the effort to move out of the circle of his arms.

  It was time for her to go home.

  She looked around. The good thing about his having a studio was that her clothes weren’t difficult to locate. The sooner she got them on, the more prepared she would be for when the awkwardness descended over her.

  The awkwardness she was certain was going to follow.

  So far, he hadn’t said a word. Had let her get up out of the bed. Had watched her gather her clothes up and begin to get dressed.

  Teri started to feel as if he wasn’t going to say a word until after she left, if then.

  “So where does this put us?”

  So much for predictions. She turned around from the edge of the bed and looked at him. She tried to read his expression. Tried to read her own feelings, as well. Nothing straightforward arose. She felt as if she’d fallen headlong into a whirlpool and couldn’t make sense of anything.

  “Working on the home invasion case,” she replied glibly as she continued putting on her clothes. It seemed like the safest answer at the moment.

  He sat up, the sheet pooling below his navel. He didn’t seem to notice. His attention was focused on the blonde tornado who had just upended life as he knew it. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know what you meant.” She pulled on her skirt, rising to fasten it at her waist. She addressed a spot on the opposite wall rather than look at him. “Don’t worry, Hawkins, I’m not one of those women who demands a commitment when a guy brings her a flower.”

  She heard him laugh shortly. “That was a hell of a lot more than a flower.”

  She turned to look at him then, a grin playing on her lips even though she’d promised herself to keep this retreat short and sweet.

  “Okay, a bouquet. A very large bouquet,” she amended after a beat. She tried very hard to keep this on a footing she thought he’d appreciate. A footing she usually wanted herself.

  But not this time.

  “We’re adults.” She shrugged before buttoning up her blouse. “Things happen. End of story.” She tried to get a handle on what he was thinking. What most men in his position probably thought. “Don’t look so worried, I’m not about to drag out a wedding dress or a palimony contract for you to sign. We were partners before I came here and we’ll be partners when I leave.” Damn, but he was impossible to read. He should have looked relieved right now, but he didn’t. “Why? Do you want more?”

  Not with a woman as glib as her. Not with anyone, he reminded himself. “No.” The word tasted harsh, unpalatable. Lies always did.

  “Good, because neither do I.” Even as she said it, she could feel the words hurting her.

  That’s because they were a lie. Weren’t they? Confusion took up residence in her brain. She’d known what she was getting into even as she stood on his doorstep, waiting for him to open the door. Knew in her heart this was what she wanted. One night with him, just one night. To satisfy her curiosity. She’d hoped that one red-hot, sizzling go-round with Hawk would answer all the questions she had, would get him out of her system.

  All it managed to do was get him more entrenched into it.

  The old saying about best-laid plans of mice and men, she thought disparagingly, obviously also applied to women. Dressed, she looked around to see if she’d forgotten anything.

  Yes, you forgot to stay out.

  She took a deep breath and went to the door. “So I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  Hawk rose, completely unmindful of the fact that he was magnificently naked. He crossed the small room and walked over to her.

  “Today,” he corrected. “You’ll see me today.”

  She could feel herself reacting again, could feel the tips of her fingers itching to touch him. To begin the process all over again. What was going on here?

  Struggling to be as disinterested, as detached as he seemed, she glanced at her wristwatch.

  “That’s right, it’s today, isn’t it?” Her throat felt raspy, dry. She warned herself not to swallow like some shaky teenager. She’d seen male bodies before, seen his just moments earlier. So why was she feeling so weak-kneed again? “I didn’t realize it was so late.”

  It was late, all right. Later than he thought. He should have stopped what was happening before it had gotten out of hand.

  He had to stop it now, before it took him over. “Give me a minute to get dressed and I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “You don’t have to.” She raised her chin. “Just because we made love doesn’t mean I’ve suddenly turned helpless.”

  It wasn’t up for debate. And he didn’t want her winning every encounter they had, even one as small as this one.

  “I said I’ll walk you to your car.” He fairly growled out the words.

  She felt her temper slipping. Maybe it was because she needed to exercise some kind of control, even over something as tiny as this. She felt as if he’d completely overwhelmed her, body and soul. “You always this cheerful after you make love?”

  His eyes slitted. “We didn’t make love, Cavanaugh. We had sex.”

  He was right and she should have gone with it, should have agreed, but her stubborn nature came to the fore, fueled by something akin to hurt. Even if she referred to it as that herself, she didn’t want him denigrating what just happened.

  “You had what you had and I had what I had,” she told him coldly. “I’m not asking for a commitment, Hawk, but I am asking you to be civil.”

  “I am being civil.”

  She went toe-to-toe with him, desperately trying to ignore the fact that he wasn’t wearing anything and that it was really taking its toll on her. “Then why are you shouting at me?”

  “Because I don’t want you to leave,” he shouted even more loudly.

  That completely threw her. She scrambled to recover. “And shouting at me is going to make me stay?”

  “No,” he snapped. “It’ll make you leave before I can make you stay.”

  She tried not to think about what that meant, only that she needed him to understand something. Everything else hung on this one truth.

  “Let’s get something straight, partner. You can’t ‘make’ me do anything. What happens here, what happens anywhere, is my doing, as well. Hence the word partner instead of flunky or slave. Got that?”

  He said nothing, only took hold of her shoulders, bringing her closer to him. She could feel her heart starting up all over again, could feel her body priming. “I guess I should have let you walk me to the car when I had a chance.”

  His eyes were fierce as Hawk felt the trap snapping shut around him again. “What makes you think you had a chance?”

  She knew she was supposed to argue against his assumption, but she didn’t want to. What she wanted was what he had to offer.

  Her purse slipped from her fingers as she stood up on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. “No fair. You’re already dressed for the occasion.”

  He smoothed her hair away from her face, wanting just to look at her. “That can be remedied.”

  And it was. Quickly.

  Chapter Twelve

  T aking a break, Teri looked at Hawk over the rim of her coffee mug. For most of the morning, she and he had been cross-referencing information, searching for a connection, a name, something to hang their newest theory on.

  A headache formed over the bridge of her nose and she paused to massage it, her eyes never leaving the top of Hawk’s head. He was busy poring over something. Intent. Focused.

  Unlike her. Her mind bounced back and forth like a ball at ze
ro gravity, going from their case to the night they’d spent together.

  She didn’t want to feel this way, this happy-glad-Fourth-of-July-sparkler sort of way every time she thought of him. What she wanted, or felt she wanted, didn’t seem to enter into it.

  The sparkler continued to burn.

  For the first time in her life, she had feelings, potentially deep feelings for someone—if she allowed herself to admit it—and it worried her. More than that, it frightened her. She’d seen what really loving someone could do. She only had to look to her father if the memory began to fade a little. She’d watched what he endured when he’d lost her mother. Her disappearance created a hole in his life, a hole that nothing could really fill. Despite all the love that abounded in their house, in their family, at bottom Andrew Cavanaugh was still lonely for his wife.

  She didn’t want that happening to her, didn’t want to love someone so much that it hurt to breathe, that it cast a shadow on everything else.

  And yet she knew she was on that kind of a path if she didn’t somehow manage to stop herself. For all her optimism, she knew that Jack Hawkins wasn’t the kind of man who allowed himself to be tied down. Home and hearth were not his kind of thing.

  If she fell in love with him, she was only setting herself up for her father’s kind of heartache.

  It wasn’t going to happen, she promised herself. It wasn’t.

  With effort, Teri forced herself to get back to the stack of files on her desk. She wasn’t getting paid to pine, she was getting paid to solve a crime.

  It felt different.

  The air, the day, the office, his skin—they all felt different this morning. As if he’d just turned onto a new page, a new chapter. A new book.

  Shuffling through files he wasn’t completely focused on, Hawk frowned to himself.

  What the hell was going on? He wasn’t the type to think this way, to feel this way. To feel at all. Feelings were for people who had a prayer of leading regular lives. From the first moment he’d opened his eyes, a heroin-addicted baby born to two people who had no business procreating, his life had been anything but regular. There’d been times, when he was very young, when he’d dreamed of that life. Of actually being normal with normal parents.