Whether you like it or not, he had been special once.
She ignored that thought. Baggage only mattered if you let it and she wasn’t going to let it. The past didn’t have to be a part of anything she and Smith did now. And he only wanted one night, nothing more.
He’s hot too, don’t forget that.
Undeniably he was hot, he always had been. But there was something different about him now that hadn’t been there back then. Eight years ago he’d been relaxed, easygoing, approachable. He’d treated her shy come-ons with patience and gentleness, wanting to take things slow. She’d been the one who’d gotten impatient, who’d been so desperate she’d pushed for more far too quickly. Yet even then he’d been a gentleman, concerned for her and her well-being.
That had not been the guy with fury in his black eyes, who’d backed her up against the wall and held her there. Who’d threatened her, blackmailed her. That guy had been intense and dangerous, his whole body humming with that incredible violent, almost sexual, energy. There was nothing easy and friendly about him now, nothing warm in the smile he’d given her.
He’d become a man who took what he wanted.
You love that.
Yeah, God help her, she did. And she couldn’t deny she was intrigued by the changes, not to mention more than a little turned on. Men always liked to prove something with her, that they were tougher, that they could “handle” her. Either that or they weren’t interested. Mostly those men turned out to be sheep in wolf’s clothing who ran at the first sign of what they were getting into. They didn’t want the challenge after all, because they were pussies who couldn’t deal with a strong woman.
Smith isn’t a pussy.
Nope. That guy was wolf all the way through.
So what was all this weird trepidation at the thought of spending a night with him? Okay, so she hated being told what to do, especially by an overly macho dickhead biker president, but something in her had loved the way he’d so easily overwhelmed her physically. He’d been hot and hard, and the feel of all that muscle pressing against her, holding her down, had made her melt. It had been way too long since she’d had the challenge of a man like that.
Maybe it wasn’t him she was wanting, maybe it was just the thought of sex. Yeah, that was it. She needed sex. With a man for a change and not a piece of plastic.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of someone standing at the edge of the sidewalk by the street. Someone very tall.
The back of her neck prickled.
Fuck.
Nora halted, not wanting to look, yet knowing she had to.
Sure enough, standing there leaning back against a streetlight, his arms folded, was Smith. By the curb was parked a massive Harley, black paintwork and chrome shining in the sun.
Her heart gave a jolt, like someone had stuck her with a syringe full of adrenaline.
The afternoon sun fell over his shaggy black hair, turning it the glossy blue-black of a crow’s wing, the shadows highlighting the closely trimmed black beard that lined his strong jaw. His eyes were dark too, like he was a painting composed of different shades of darkness. Midnight and soot, coal dust and tar. Oil and black smoke.
He was in the jeans and tee she’d seen him in earlier that day, his Ministry cut over the top, and he looked tall and muscular and dangerous as hell.
She shivered, unable to help herself. So, she’d been wrong when she thought she’d gotten away.
Not one to avoid a problem when it was standing right in front of her, Nora didn’t bother acting like she hadn’t seen him. Instead, she walked straight over to where he stood and stopped right in front of him.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded without preamble, tipping her head back so she could look into his eyes. Perhaps it would have been safer to be friendly and not quite so confrontational, but she’d be damned if she pretended to feel friendly toward him. “You’re following me?”
“Just wanna be sure you didn’t go to the cops.” His gaze did that thing again, dropping down the length of her body and back up again, openly appreciative. It made her want to blush like a schoolgirl. “And that you haven’t rethought your position on my little suggestion.”
“I haven’t gone to the cops, no. And I thought that gunshot made my position pretty clear.”
His mouth, long and sensual, curved. “Yeah, about that. Ballsy of you, golden girl, very ballsy. But also very stupid.”
Nora scowled at him, trying to ignore her unease. The unease that told her she had, indeed, done a very stupid thing by firing her gun and only just missing him. “You wouldn’t take no for an answer. That’s what I do to men who don’t take no for an answer.”
He tilted his head, his black gaze sharp. “Is that right? I wonder, is your father still alive then?”
A small twist of anger combined with the unease, turning into a nasty, churning sensation. Goddamn, she wished she had her Colt right now. Nothing like the reassurance of her weapon to make her feel better. “What the hell has Dad got to do with this?”
“He didn’t take no for an answer.” Smith’s smile turned as sharp as his stare. “Or no, I forgot. You never said ‘no,’ did you? It was always ‘Yes, Daddy. Anything you say, Daddy.’ ” An undertone of bitterness ran through his velvet-and-gravel voice, and he made no attempt to hide it. “And sometimes, you didn’t say anything at all, right?”
Nora’s jaw tightened, tension crawling along her shoulders and down her back.
They were in the overblown formality of her father’s office. Smith and herself and Smith’s boss, all standing in front of his desk like naughty kids before the headmaster.
“He forced her,” her father said in his cold, precise way. “He brainwashed her. He’s a goddamn rapist and I don’t want him anywhere near my daughter ever again. If you want to continue this contract, he needs to go.”
“That’s not true,” Smith protested, his voice hoarse. “That’s not how it happened. Tell them, Nora. Tell them!”
But her father was looking at her and she couldn’t get her voice to work and so she didn’t say a word…
God, she didn’t need that crap in her head, not now.
Nora shoved the memories away and briefly debated telling him to go to hell, but that would be to admit his words had touched her, had hurt her. Had made her remember things she didn’t want to remember. And she didn’t want to do that. It would be a weakness she couldn’t afford, especially not in front of a predator like him.
“Your seduction technique could use some work,” she said instead. “If you want to get me into bed, flowers and a nice dinner is a better bet.”
The look in his eyes gleamed, as if he knew he’d scored a hit. “Bullshit. Maybe once it was, but you’re not a flowers-and-dinner kind of girl anymore, are you?”
She swallowed, her mouth going dry as an oddly vulnerable feeling swept through her; the sense that he’d seen something in her she hadn’t even been aware of herself. “How do you know what kind of girl I am now? You know nothing about me.”
“Sure I do,” he said with maddening certainty. “You’re the kind of girl who likes a challenge. Who likes nothing better than a fight, especially with a gun in your hand. And you certainly like being held up against a wall, that I do know for certain.”
Damn him. Damn him to hell. She would have loved to tell him he was wrong, that she wasn’t that kind of girl at all, but of course she’d be lying and they both knew it. The real irony was that since she hadn’t been on a date in a few years, she’d kind of forgotten the kind of girl she actually was when it came to men.
Not that she was going to let him know that.
Nora let out what she hoped was a long-suffering sigh. “What’s your point, Ace? I’ve got a crap-ton of stuff to do this afternoon and you’re getting in the way.”
He didn’t answer immediately, staring at her for a moment before glancing at the art gallery behind her. “Taking in an exhibition, huh? Not exactly tracking
and catching fugitives now, is it?”
The oddly vulnerable feeling deepened. She didn’t make a big deal of the fact that she often went to art galleries or museums, telling herself no one would be interested. Though it was really because she didn’t want anyone knowing that about her, or asking questions as to why a tough-ass bounty hunter like her enjoyed art.
It wasn’t a secret exactly. She just preferred not having to explain about her privileged past or her filthy-rich family.
“Say what you want to say, then get the hell out of my way,” she growled, not liking him knowing where she’d been for the past hour.
“I’ve already said what I want to say. I’m now waiting for your answer.”
Ah, crap. Crunch time.
She pushed away the feeling that was definitely not trepidation, then shrugged for good measure. “Oh, that’s right. I’d forgotten. The whole sleeping with you in return for Brook and the Ministry leaving Duchess alone thing.”
But those night-dark eyes of his were sharper and more precise than a scalpel. They saw through her. All the way through. “You scared, little girl?”
She so wanted to lift her hand, flip him the bird, then turn around and walk away, never see him again. But that would be admitting far too much and she couldn’t do that. Instead she lifted a shoulder. “What? Of a night with you? I don’t fucking think so.”
Smith’s smile remained while he searched her face, hungry and white, that wolf’s smile. “Should be an easy decision then. Unless you hate your boss.”
If only that were the case. If only she didn’t give a shit about Duchess. But she did. And right now she had to take charge of this, because if she didn’t, she had a horrible feeling that Smith would. And once he was in control…
Something that wasn’t fear shivered way down deep inside her, but Nora ignored it. Instead she took a step forward, getting right up into his space. So close she could feel the heat of his body, hotter than the noonday Texas sun. Then, like she had back in the bar, she lifted her hand and put her palm on his chest, letting it rest there to show him just how scared she was, which was not at all. “You want to spend a night with me? Then fine.” She tried to ignore how the feel of him burned against her palm. “But I’m going to want a few things from you first and I’m not taking no for an answer.”
“Ballsy, golden girl,” he murmured, his voice a soft growl. “But you’re not really in any position to make demands.”
Nora stared up at him, holding his gaze. “I’m assuming you actually want me to be an active participant? And not just lying there thinking of England?”
“You’re assuming you could just lie there thinking of England.” His smile took on a sensual cast. “When I’m touching you, baby, I guarantee that England is the last fucking place you’ll be thinking of.”
Arrogant sonofabitch. She flattened her hand on the hot plane of his chest. “Since you’ve made it pretty much impossible for me to refuse, if you want one night, you can have it. But if you want me to actually take part, I have two conditions. One, I want Brook in cuffs, at the Duchess offices the next day. Two, it’s just sex. The past has got nothing whatsoever to do with it.”
Hunger and darkness, danger and heat glittered in his eyes. “I don’t do conditions, little girl. And you can refuse. I just gave you some incentive not to.”
Her jaw tightened. She didn’t have much to threaten him with, not when he held all the cards. But there was one thing at least she could use: his male ego. “Well, then,” she said, “guess I’ll be thinking of England after all.”
Playing these games with him was probably stupid, especially given what was at stake. But she’d be damned if she let him walk all over her. A man like him respected strength, so she may as well start as she meant to continue and she meant to continue strong.
Smith’s gaze dropped to her hand where it rested on his chest, then back up again. “Sweetheart, you won’t be thinking of anything when I’m through with you. You remember that, right?”
She didn’t want to remember, but it unreeled like a movie in her head all the same…
Lying on the sun lounger cushions, watching the stars through the half-built roof of the pool house, her body boneless and heavy and sated. And all she’d been able to think was that if her father caught them now, it would all have been worth it…
Nora pushed the memory away, determinedly concentrating on the here and now instead. “I’m not arguing with you, Ace. Those are my conditions. Take it or leave it.”
He gave her a long, intense look. “You realize that I don’t have to give you Dust at all. I could just threaten Duchess and you’d still have to give me what I want.”
Of course she’d realized that. But if that was supposed to make her back down, he could go to hell. “So why don’t you then?”
“Why?” That hungry smile turned lazy, mocking. “Because I’m a gentleman, sweetheart.” Then he laughed, as if he knew how pissed he was making her and was enjoying it, the bastard. “Come on, seal the deal, golden girl.”
Too busy resisting the urge to kick him in the nuts, she at first didn’t quite understand. She blinked at him. “Seal the deal?”
He didn’t speak, lifting one hand and sliding it around the back of her head before she could move. Nora opened her mouth, to say what, she didn’t know, because all the words seemed to die on her lips. He was cradling the back of her head in his large, warm palm, bringing her slowly but inexorably closer to him. And she couldn’t look away. There was heat in his eyes, heat in the tall, muscular body suddenly pressing against hers. Both her palms were on his chest now and no, she definitely wasn’t pushing him away or kicking him anywhere. All the power in her arms had vanished, along with all the air in her lungs.
Gently, almost tenderly, he brought her close. Then he lowered his head and she found herself almost trembling, her eyes fluttering closed, overwhelmed by the sheer closeness of him, flooded with memories she’d been trying to escape for years.
Of how he’d used to hold her, as if she were a priceless artwork and had to be handled with care. Of how that had made her feel, precious, treasured. Not the shy, lonely daughter of a man who preferred money to anything else.
“Smith,” she whispered, his name escaping without her permission.
And like she’d asked a question and he was answering, his lips brushed hers, so fleeting and light, yet the heat of it seared her in ways she couldn’t have described.
Automatically she opened her mouth, wanting more, wanting so much more, but then she was free, standing there on the sidewalk swaying like a drunkard after one too many bourbons.
Smith’s smile was even whiter, like he knew a secret she didn’t. “Deal’s done, Nora. My place, tomorrow night. I’ll text you the address.”
She wanted to tell him he could fuck right off with his orders and his kisses, that she’d be the one to choose when and where. But somehow her voice had gone.
All she could do was stand there and watch him give her one last grin as he got onto his Harley and rode off with a roar.
Chapter 5
Smith finished up his workout then strode into the shower area he’d had installed in the gym of his Lake Austin home. After a brisk, cold shower, he dried himself off, then he went into the bedroom to find some clean clothes. A pair of worn jeans and a plain white T-shirt, not that he was planning on wearing clothes for too long tonight. Neither he nor Nora would, not with what he was planning.
Dressed, he went back down the hallway and through the lounge to the kitchen, stalking over to the fridge and pulling out a couple of beers. Nora would be here any minute and he supposed the right thing would be to offer her something to drink first.
Though really, this wasn’t a date. This was all about sex and nothing else, and there was no point pretending it was otherwise.
If you want to get me into bed, flowers and a nice dinner is a better bet.
Yeah, she’d told him that yesterday, but he didn’t think that was true.
At least, maybe it had been true once, but not now. Back when they’d been sneaking around with each other in her father’s pool house, he hadn’t given her flowers or a nice dinner, though at the time, he’d desperately wanted to. She’d told him they had to keep things secret, that if they were discovered, her father would kill him.
He hadn’t been scared of her father. Old Don Sutcliffe might have been big in Texas oil, but Smith hadn’t given a shit about business. He’d given a shit about Sutcliffe’s daughter and had been thinking about a future with her, and he’d been prepared to risk the old man’s wrath for it.
Unfortunately for him, Nora hadn’t been.
He put his hands on the black granite of the kitchen island countertop and leaned against them, a savage satisfaction stretching out inside him.
Tonight she was going to reap the rewards of that little decision and all that bullshit she’d fed him yesterday, about conditions and participation and goddamn England, well, screw that.
He’d have her fucking participation. And too bad if she thought this wasn’t going to involve the past, because he was going to have that as well. He was going to get an explanation from her about why she’d left him high and dry that day in her father’s office. Why she’d said nothing, letting Sutcliffe call him a seducer, a rapist, and every other kind of filthy name under the sun. And if she hadn’t known that her father had ensured he’d never work in Houston again, he’d tell her that too.
She needed to know because it was her fucking fault.
Sure, but what’s it going to change?
Nothing. But it sure as hell would make him feel a lot better.
In fact, he was feeling a lot better already just remembering Nora coming out of the art gallery in those tight jeans and tank top, her sunglasses on, cool and tough and untouchable. He’d gone to the Duchess offices in time to see her walk out of them, and he’d followed her, vaguely surprised when she’d pulled up outside the art gallery.
He’d debated talking to her right then and there, but he’d decided to wait instead, watching her walk up the art gallery steps and disappear inside. Interesting to see she was still into that art shit. She used to talk about it a lot and he liked listening to her, liked being asked his opinion, as if he wasn’t just some dumb shit troublemaker from a trailer park.
Make It Hurt (Texas Bounty) Page 6