by Lori Foster
Grinning, Hart leaned down to kiss her mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”
But instead, he wedged his hand into the neckline of her dress and cupped her bare breast.
“Hart!”
“You feel so damn good.” He leaned down to kiss her again, smothering her protests. She reached for him, pulling him close, already on the edge of desperate need.
His tongue did wicked things with hers, and she accepted that he was an awesome kisser, the best she’d ever known. When he kissed his way down her throat to her chest, she abruptly realized that he’d been opening buttons and she hadn’t noticed.
He caught the edge of her bra cup, pulled it down, and then his hot mouth closed over her nipple.
She arched off the bed with a groan.
He pressed her back down, and spent far too long feasting on her, first on one nipple, then the other. She was frantic by the time he sat up beside her and finished unbuttoning her dress, then spread the material open.
At the sight of her thigh-high hose and small panties, his eyes narrowed.
“You are so fucking sexy . . .”
Coarse language had always been an irritant to her. Now, in that guttural, affected tone, it thrilled her.
Watching his face, Lisa reached for the front clasp of her bra and unhooked it. Her breasts felt tender, swollen, from all his attention. She needed no more encouragement.
But when she started to sit up, he flattened a hand over her belly. “Let me.”
He took his time stripping off her shoes and rolling down her nylons. After slipping an arm behind her shoulders, he lifted her up only long enough to remove the dress and bra, and ease them out from under her. Left only in her panties, she waited for him.
His hand cupped over her sex. He bent to kiss her belly, her hip bones.
“Hart, that’s enough.” She was trembling, so hot. She needed him. Now.
“Not even close.”
“Yes.” Tangling her fingers in his hair, she tugged him up. “I want to see you, too, remember?”
His smile was slow and wicked. “Do you need your glasses?”
“Not if you back up a little.”
Standing at the side of the bed, he took two steps back, then yanked off his shirt and tossed it aside. He removed his wallet, fished out two condoms, and put them on the bedside table. Sitting again, he bent to remove his shoes and socks.
Even with her vision a little blurry, he looked too good to resist. Lisa sat up and hugged her breasts against his gorgeous, solid back. That felt so good, she came to her knees and ran her hands over him. Hart sort of froze, going very still and quiet.
She kissed his ear, breathed in the delicious hot scent of his skin, and explored all those incredible muscles in his shoulders, his biceps, and over to his chest.
He caught her hands. “Okay, woman. I get the point. Let me lose the jeans, and we’re in business.”
Sitting back on the bed, Lisa laughed. It was a husky, excited laugh. She watched as Hart turned to face her, opened his jeans, and pushed them—with his boxers—down to the floor. He kicked free and stepped over to the mattress.
Doing a long, slow inhale, Lisa took in the exquisite sight of him. “A man couldn’t be more beautiful.”
He caught her panties and dragged them down her legs. “I don’t know about beautiful, but I’m so hard, I’m about to explode.”
While looking at her reclining body, he grabbed for a condom, opened the package, and rolled the condom on.
Lisa held her arms out to him. It didn’t matter that she was crossways on the bed. It didn’t matter that she wanted to touch him, explore him more. For now, she needed him.
He was so tall that once he stretched out over her again, his legs were hanging over the side. To accommodate the position, Hart pulled her to the edge of the mattress and pushed her knees back.
Being so exposed left Lisa both shy and turned on. Her breath caught, and then she felt him against her. His big hands held her knees, pushed them farther back, and all the while he watched as his erection slowly pressed into her. It was erotic, and exciting.
Watching his face, Lisa saw the way heat colored his high cheekbones, how his eyes darkened and his nostrils flared. Muscles flexed and clenched in his chest and shoulders—and then he closed his eyes with a groan and sank into her.
Her breath caught. It felt so right to be like this with him, so perfect.
He levered down over her, saying, “Put your legs around my waist.”
And then they were moving together, both of them fevered, kissing, touching, the sensations escalating too fast.
Lisa freed her mouth to cry out. He pressed his face into her throat and strained against her. Arching up, squeezing him with her legs, she held him as tight as she could—and then the most astounding climax rolled through her.
Vaguely, she heard Hart coming, too, his groan raw and deep, his mouth opened on her neck.
Minutes passed, and she continued to regain her breath with Hart’s weight comfortably over her. Finally, he struggled up to his elbows and looked down at her. “Not bad. For starters.”
She giggled, and then the giggles spread and she was laughing aloud.
He cocked a brow, but when she continued, he rubbed his nose against her temple, her heated shoulder. “I want to eat you up, woman,” he whispered, and her giggles died a fast death.
For the next two hours he was relentless, saving, he said, the other condom by making her come twice again before joining with her.
Lisa had never known so much sexual indulgence, but she’d have no qualms in quickly getting familiar. With Hart.
And only with Hart.
It was after two in the morning when he pulled her around in the bed so that her head rested on a pillow. Like a true gentleman, he tucked her in, and even pressed a kiss to her forehead.
When he started to move away, she said, “No, you don’t, Skippy. No sneaking away this time.”
He leaned over her, touching her hair, kissing the bridge of her nose. “Actually, I was hoping you wouldn’t kick me out. Can I assume you want me to stay?”
She was so exhausted, she said only, “Please.”
“Be right back.” After another quick kiss, he turned out the lights in the apartment, and then slid under the covers with her.
Lisa turned to curl into his side, and it was, by far, the most comfortable position she’d ever found herself in.
She could surely get used to this.
Could he?
When Lisa finally stirred awake, Hart sat up, ready to tackle the awkwardness of what the day would bring.
Lying on her stomach, her face smooshed into her pillow, she opened her eyes and looked at him. For several seconds she tried to focus, and then, with a jolt, she sat up and reached over him for her glasses.
Enjoying that, Hart kept her close and settled her into his side. “Good morning, sweetheart.”
Chin tucked in, she mumbled, “Morning.”
Yep, Hart thought. Awkward. “So,” he said, trying to sound cavalier, “how late do you work today?”
“I have late appointments today, so I won’t get back here until around seven.”
“Damn. And I have to meet Caroline at eight.” He felt her stiffen, but didn’t let her withdraw. “I know it’ll be damned inconvenient, but can I see you afterward?”
She straight-armed him so suddenly that Hart lost his hold on her.
Tangled brown hair spilled over her shoulders. She had a crease on her cheek from the pillowcase. And her sleepy eyes looked extra soft behind the lenses of her glasses.
Damn, but he loved her. Every frigging thing about her, even her glasses.
“Only you, Hart Winston, would ask to come to one woman after being with another.” She started to scramble off the bed, intent on taking the sheet with her, but he toppled her face-first into the mattress before
she got far.
She wrestled with him, but she didn’t have a chance. Laughing, Hart pinned her arms above her head and looked down at her straining shoulders, her slender back.
“I could take you like this,” he whispered, pressing himself against her plump bottom. “We’d both love it.”
“Hart . . .” she warned.
“I’m not going to be with Caroline. I’m going to meet her at that shabby parking lot, let the goons attack, and then hopefully see her arrested with her two friends.”
Lisa said, “Get off of me.”
Instead, he kissed a delicate trail from her nape to her shoulder—and felt her shudder. “Tell me you trust me.” He nuzzled her ear. “Tell me you know I don’t want any other woman, not when I can have you.”
He lifted up and turned her under him. She didn’t fight him, but she did have to straighten her glasses. And then her expression was so serious, so intent, he grinned.
“Tell me that you know we have something very special going on.”
She chewed her bottom lip. “Define ‘special.’ ”
One thing about Lisa—she’d never make it easy on him. “Special, as in I want to see more of you. A lot more. Tonight, and tomorrow night, and the night after that.”
She said, “And the night after that?”
Damn, what did she want from him, a marriage proposal? Surprisingly, that thought didn’t entirely throw him. But for now, he settled on a more diplomatic reply, saying, “For as long as we’re both enjoying ourselves.”
She touched her fingertips to his chest hair, as if in deep thought. “So . . . in that time, you won’t be with anyone else?”
“Other than Caroline tonight.” He stroked a hand down her side to her hip. “Hell, Lisa, like I told you, I don’t want anyone else.”
Pulling him down for a kiss, she said, “Okay.”
Hart reared back. “Okay? What does that mean?”
She pushed her way out from under him, and left the bed. The sheet stayed behind. “It means that I have to go get ready for the office, but there’s a spare key in a basket on top of the refrigerator. Feel free to grab it.”
Now that sounded promising. He gazed at her body, cleared his throat, and asked, “How much time do you have before you need to leave?”
“Forget it, Skippy. I’m already running late, and besides, you’re out of condoms.”
As she sashayed off for the bathroom, Hart let out a low whistle. Tonight he’d buy an entire box of condoms. And now that she’d promised him a key, he felt like he’d made great headway.
Toward what, exactly, he couldn’t say. It was incredible that his career was at risk because a woman wanted to set him up so that men could maim him.
Yet all he really cared about was understanding Lisa. He imagined his brother and Joe would get a real kick out of that.
Six
Thick humidity hung in the air, laying an eerie mist over everything. Fat clouds obscured the sliver of moon, and a steady drizzle fell from the night sky, raising noxious steam from summer-scorched blacktop. In this area of town, debris littered the sidewalks and stuffed every brick-and-mortar corner.
Hart looked at the ramshackle drugstore where Caroline said she worked. The place looked like it had been out of business for a decade, with tape on the windows, peeling paint on the clapboard siding, and shingles missing from the roof.
Despite the signs of neglect, a light shone inside. The parking lot behind the building butted up to the concrete-block side of a drive-through pony keg. Broken beer bottles were hazardous to car tires.
Lack of security lights made it hazardous to him.
But Hart wasn’t worried. The only thing he felt was an impatience to get this over with, so he could return to Lisa.
Somewhere nearby, Joe had secured himself, unseen but available. He had Dex with him, and Drew Black, having been informed of the plan, awaited an update. Drew had promised that if Brad was stupid enough to use underhanded tactics to win, he’d be booted from the organization.
Hart believed him.
As he pulled around to the back of the building, avoiding the broken glass as best he could, he wondered . . . what Lisa was doing right then. Was she worrying about him? Jealous that he’d be meeting Caroline, even if only to use her to get to the men? Or had she put him from her mind?
Seeing no one in the dark, treacherous lot, he parked his car and turned off the ignition. The plan was for him to linger there until the men launched their surprise attack.
Since Hart knew about it, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise, though, which changed the odds in his favor.
The sooner he got through with this, the sooner he could sort through his relationship with Lisa, so he turned up the collar of his Windbreaker and got out of the car. The slamming of the door echoed through the hushed lot.
Hart waited, his senses heightened, but nothing happened. No one approached. He heard nothing but the drip of water from the drugstore’s gutter and the song of crickets enjoying the weather.
After pocketing his keys, he walked toward the back of the drugstore.
The door opened before he reached it, and Caroline stepped out under a rusty overhang. “You made it,” she called out, opening a big umbrella.
Hart plastered on his most charming smile. “Am I early?”
“Nope. Just on time.” Caroline strode out to him, but she looked nervous, her gaze darting this way and that.
She wore snug-fitting jeans, wedge sandals, and a frilly blouse. If he wasn’t so strung out on Lisa, he might have appreciated the picture she made, with her hair loose and curling, her lips all shiny.
Hart took her arm and turned her toward his car. As he did so, he scanned the area, but saw no one. Damn it, he wanted this over and done with. Tonight.
“So where are we going?” he asked, trying to sound natural.
She gave him a coy look. “Your place would be fine.”
If she wanted to play it that way, he could go along with her. “Right to it, huh? You don’t need to be wined and dined first?”
“With you, no.” She sounded wistful, as if she actually wished they could get together.
Not in this lifetime. Hart opened the passenger door and waited. She turned, stared at him for a moment, then leaned up and kissed him silly.
Her lips were soft and warm, her tongue bold. With one hand she held her umbrella, and with the other she stroked his chest. She let out a small sound of yearning . . . but she left Hart utterly unaffected.
All he could think about was how Lisa would feel if she knew he was kissing someone else.
She wouldn’t like it; that was for sure. But damn it, he had a role to play, so while keeping his eyes barely open, he listened hard for sounds of attack—and let her have her way with him.
Finally, without his participation to spur her on, she released him and sighed. “You really are so damn gorgeous.”
Hart almost laughed—but then, for only a flash of a second, Caroline looked beyond him, and Hart knew. He spun around in time to find a masked man skulking from the drugstore—and damned if he didn’t carry a ball bat!
With Hart looking right at him, the guy froze for a second, as if stunned to be caught. Then he gave a battle yell and ran toward Hart with the bat in the air.
Hart stepped away from his car and waited. He didn’t run toward the guy, didn’t make a sound. He just prepared.
The dude’s momentum threw him off balance with the first swing of the bat, making it easy for Hart to dodge the blow and deliver a gut-squelching punch to his unprepared midsection.
Wind left his assailant in a whoosh, and he bent double.
Hart didn’t need much more time than that. He brought his elbow down hard on the man’s back, then his knee up into his face, and the idiot collapsed, his bat clattering on the blacktop. His groans were faint and filled with pain.
“Oh, no, you don’t.”
Hart heard Joe’s voice and looked around in time to see his cousin snatch a tire iron out of another man’s hand. Before the guy could recover, Joe pulled off his ski mask, and revealed Brad Emery, the fighter. The jerk on the ground had to be his cohort.
Once Brad was relieved of the weapon, Joe gave him a shove toward Hart and said, “Now see how you fare.”
Hart grinned. It figured that Joe would enjoy this.
Gesturing for the man to attack, Hart waited. This guy was a little smarter, taking his time, circling Hart.
Tiring of that game real fast, Hart said, “Chicken shit, are you going to do this, or what?”
“You’re a fucking punk, Winston, you know that?”
“I know I’ll kick your ass. I know you know I’ll kick your ass, and that’s why you’re trying this cowardly bullshit. You’re afraid to meet me on the mat, man to man. You know I’d annihilate you—with ease.”
That did it. Lacking a fighter’s finesse, Brad launched himself at Hart, and they both went down onto the wet pavement.
Shit. Fighting on a padded mat was much easier than on the broken blacktop. But Hart, with a background of wrestling skills, and despite having smacked his head hard, twisted until he had the mount, then pounded Brad in the jaw.
His head snapped back, but Brad didn’t stop fighting. He cursed and wrestled until Hart slugged him again, breaking his nose, then again, stunning him with a shot to the jaw.
Joe pulled Hart away. “Ease up, Skippy. The cops are on the way.”
Hart shot a look at Joe. Catching his breath, he said, “I hope that damned name isn’t catching on.”
Trying to protect his head, Brad groaned and turtled up.
“I think Skippy sort of suits you.” Grinning, Joe hauled Hart upright.
“How so?”
“Skipping out on women? I think that’s where Lisa got it.”
Well, hell. Hart scowled, but suddenly the first man started to scramble. Joe said, “Let me. Please.”
Joe snagged the fellow from the back, saying, “Uh-uh, bud. Not so fast.” A brief struggle ensued, but Joe had no problem subduing him. When he was held in a headlock, Joe removed his mask, revealing Tyler Stevens, the same man they’d seen in the bar.