by Dee Tenorio
Then again, Jessica unwillingly remembered the conversation she’d interrupted earlier. Dory looking upset and displeased, Daniel holding her hand and speaking softly but firmly. Was he telling his mother what he’d been up to?
She shook her head. The last thing she needed was to start getting as suspicious as Kyle based on things she hadn’t even heard. “I don’t see where we need to do anything. Except maybe not listen to other people’s conversations.” A good reminder for both of them.
Kyle’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not proud of it, okay, but it was the middle of the night, I was hungry and I came out to get a snack. I didn’t mean to stay there and listen, it was impossible not to hear him. He was angry and threatening the person on the other end of the phone.”
Oh. Not liking the idea of conceding the point—great, now Kyle had better manners in an argument than she did—she decided to skip it entirely. “So, he has a gun and he makes threatening phone calls in the middle of the night, but that somehow inspired you to invite him to stay with you for the next few days?”
“I didn’t want to throw him out and be wrong. Besides, I feel better knowing where he is than washing my hands of him and letting someone else get hurt when there might be something I could have done.”
“So you’re Superman again? Unable to get hurt by bullets and giant muscled men?” Jessica launched out of her seat to pace the length of space behind the desk. What was he doing? First he’s suspicious and now he’s a hero? Trying to make her worry about him? Hell of a way into a woman’s heart and certainly not the way into this one’s, she assured herself. “What do you plan on doing if you’re right and he’s dangerous?”
“Are you angry at me for doubting him or for asking him to stay?” Did he purposely stay calm when she wasn’t, just to exasperate her?
“I’m not angry at you—all right, fine, I am, but I haven’t decided for which reason yet. And you’re not the one asking questions here. That’s my job. What are you trying to prove? That I care about you? That you’re brave?”
“I’m not trying to prove anything. I’m trying to ask your opinion.”
“My opinion is that we get him a hotel room near the hospital and stay out of it.”
“That’s a little reckless, don’t you think?” He was looking at her strangely, rising to gather the containers back into the bag. Not extra-head strange. More the I’m-thinking-something-about-you strange. “What’s going on, Jess?”
Didn’t that just hang it? He was all but putting on a cape and boots, but there was something wrong with her. Just because her steps had gotten a little quick and her hands were flexing open and closed while she thought. He should appreciate her effort, it was all that was keeping her from wrapping her fingers around his neck.
And come to think of it— “Why do you keep calling me that? I’ve asked you repeatedly to call me Jessica and you insist on doing what you want. It’s always about what you want. Well, I want my name, damn it.”
A heartbeat later he was next to her, moving so fast she gasped before catching herself mid-stride. It wasn’t like she was afraid of him. At least, not physically. But him coming closer to her was definitely a frightening thing. Especially with that look still on his face.
“This isn’t about Daniel, is it, Jessica?” he asked quietly.
She bit her lips, then made herself release them and hold her ground. “Of course it is. Who else would it be about? Unless you’ve been listening to other phone calls?”
He let that one slip past him and advanced on her another step. Steady, girl. Steady…
“This is about us.”
“What is?” She wasn’t breathless. There just wasn’t a lot of air in the room. He took another step closer, leaving just over a foot between them, heightening the awareness between them so sharply that a shiver ran through her. But she couldn’t look away from his intent gaze.
“You. You’re all but running in place and making about as much sense as a babbling brook.”
“If this is your idea of seduction, Lonnigan, it needs work.”
“You’re right. How’s this?” Then he closed the gap, cupped his hand around the back of her head and brought her mouth to his.
Chapter Thirteen
In a word, it was delicious.
Kyle’s hand held the back of her head, his fingers in her hair and his thumb caressing her jaw while his other hand curled around her waist. There wasn’t enough room for a breath. She could feel him from knee to lips, lips that were devouring her as if he hadn’t been near sustenance for weeks. She’d opened her mouth to him without even thinking, and her own hands were clutching his shoulders as if he was going to get away.
This was a bad idea.
But she didn’t dwell on that because his hand worked its way up to her breast and her brain completely shut down. No pesky thoughts, no inhibited responses. Just his mouth, his hand, his heat and his taste. She felt the edge of the desk at the back of her thighs, then felt it on her back. Along with the hours of work she’d arranged so neatly.
She pushed at his shoulders desperately. “Wait, my files!”
His laugh was soft, a sexy puff of sound that parted them and made her belly clench in response. Part of her wanted to throw the files and couldn’t give a rat’s ass where they landed. But it wasn’t as big as the part of her that didn’t want to do all of it again.
“They’re that important?” he asked, voice warm and rough in the ear he was nibbling. His hand was inching under her skirt and her legs were already parting for him. If he kept going any higher, he’d feel exactly how wet for him she already was and neither one of them would care about her files.
“Do I feel like I’d stop you for anything less than absolute importance?”
He pulled away, still supporting her body just above the folders. His gaze traced her face, a caress all by itself before he looked around the room, probably searching for a good flat surface that was bigger than a plant stand. He wouldn’t have any major windfalls; she considered herself lucky to have the desk.
“What about that little couch?”
Where the plant book was hiding? “No.”
His thumb continued to caress the side of her neck and his fingertips on her thigh held her against his hip, still massaging her against the heat of his erection. Even if her head miraculously cleared while he searched for somewhere to have his way with her, she already knew what she wanted. What she needed from him. She might not really know why, but she didn’t want to think about that yet. Not yet.
“The carpet’s soft.” She pulled his attention back to her with a touch of her fingertip to his jaw.
His eyes had darkened, the pupils large and his gaze hungry. He was thinking something, she knew he was. But she didn’t want either of them thinking. She wanted him. The same way she had that first night—completely consuming, without reason or conflict. Pure desire, from head to toe.
“Say it,” he murmured.
“Say what?”
His hand roved down her neck to her breast to her hip to her backside, as if he couldn’t decide where to leave it. Or what he wanted more. “You’ve said it every step of the way, Jess. It wouldn’t be right if you didn’t say it this time.”
He lowered his head to her throat, his tongue finding a spot beneath her ear and warming it with a caress that had her eyes closing. Folders crunched beneath her back, but she didn’t care when he started nibbling along the cords of her neck. Maybe the folders weren’t so important…
Then she was lifted—whisked, really—off the desk. Her body started sinking and his was coming down with hers. She laughed when he shoved her rolling chair out of the way hard enough to make it tip over. In no time, she was on her back, him nestled at her side, one leg lying over both of hers while he looked down at her and toyed with the closure on her skirt.
“I’ve always had fantasies about making love behind a desk,” he whispered as he kissed her ear.
“I never thought it was all that sexy be
hind a desk.” She brought her hands to the buttons of his shirt, careful to slip each tiny one through the hole with as little fuss as possible. With each one came another inch of sun-kissed skin that she wanted to touch, to taste, to reacquaint herself with. But she kept her hands on their steady task, determined to open each one as proof of her own complicity.
“Sure it is. No one can see you, they never know who you might be hiding under here.” His hands hadn’t been idle either, parting the white linen blouse and plucking the front closure on her bra. The white lace opened as happily for him as the blouse had.
“No one would ever know what I was touching,” he continued, circling her nipple with a barely touching forefinger. She closed her eyes, forgetting all about buttons and drowning in the tiny waves of pleasure he sent rippling through her.
“Or what I was tasting.” Then his mouth replaced his finger and he shifted so that he was completely above her.
She moaned. At the sound, she felt his mouth tighten at her breast. One of his hands took his weight off of her while he used the other to draw up the hem of her skirt. Her breath shuddered as her legs were suddenly freed to part around him, the fabric bunching at her waist. His hips dropped into the cradle of her thighs, the hard jut of his cock straining against her.
“Say it, Jess,” he coaxed while she pushed his shirt over his shoulders. More smooth skin, more heat.
“I wouldn’t mean it this time,” she said, finally knowing what he meant and smiling at his silliness.
“I know, that’s what makes it a turn on. You’ve never meant it.” He had to help her with the sleeves, but after a second the shirt was gone.
Then he was moving, pulling away and resting back on his haunches. His belt made a whipping sound as he pulled it from his belt loops, then a thump when he sent it off on its own to the carpet behind them. He reached under the folds of her skirt to her hips where her satin panties gave way to the urging pull of his fingertips. They came down her legs and his eyes glowed when she pulled one limb free of the loose fabric, parting them around him again. She watched him stare and study, loving that he was so entranced looking at her. At her.
“Kyle?” She felt the power of her femininity and the call of his masculinity like a heady rush to the brain.
“Hmmm?”
“I’m not going to sleep with you.”
His eyes met hers and his smile was sin itself.
Then he dipped his head and she threw hers back in laughter that became a moan when his tongue found the wet core of her, lapping deep within her. Desire knifed through her at that first touch and heightened with stroke after fiery stroke. Her fingers speared through his hair, holding him close while her hips lifted and fell, doing their best to ride his tongue to completion. He wasn’t slow or gentle, but rather ravenous, desperate to wring pleasure out of her until every caress, kiss and finally the firm suckle on her clit made her cry out his name. The first shake and shiver of completion rippled through her and her groan was matched by his as he took the moment to unzip his pants and slide into her with one filling stroke.
She pushed the folds of his pants further down his hips, lifting her legs until her knees were just behind his shoulders while he positioned his forearms under hers. Buried deep inside her, he remained utterly motionless until she lifted heavy lids to meet his sensual gaze.
He said nothing, though she expected him to. Instead, his eyes were telling her things she couldn’t look away from. Things that made the joining of their bodies feel almost secondary to the connection of their gazes. Of their hearts.
Panic poured in.
She didn’t want to feel this. Didn’t want to be so open, so raw. But then he started to move, his eyes never leaving hers, the thrust of his hips gentle and fulfilling. She brought her hands to his shoulders, pulling him down for a kiss, one he resisted. He stroked within her, filling her until there was no sense of anything but him and the tide of passion that moved her in ways she was too afraid to consider.
He took her hands, twining their fingers and raising them above her head. She held on, her body tightening around him, inside and out, the tension rising and that gaze still holding. Deeper and deeper he pushed, into her body, into her soul, and she came rushing to meet him. Again and again, until her gasping sighs became moans that had him rocking against her, harder and faster. Then and only then did his eyes finally close, when the passion caused them both to shudder, and she was free, riding out the climax like a storm-tossed boat, straining for breath, ecstatic with pleasure, terrified of what just happened.
It hadn’t just been sex.
He’d made love to her.
She’d made love to him.
And this time, she knew, he wasn’t going to let her ignore it.
Kyle pulled in a deep breath, his body still shuddering. They were still in a tangle—clothes, limbs and hearts. But he could already feel her pulling away from him. He’d seen in her eyes the growing fear of what was between them. The power of it scared him a little too. How much worse for her, who wasn’t even looking for it?
Their bodies cooled and what had started off as passionate now felt awkward with silence as she kept her face averted from him. Aching as he did so, Kyle pulled them apart, letting her shift to her side, curling like a child, while he settled behind her. She pulled her blouse closed with one hand and tried to look casual while hugging herself with the other. But she shivered and ruined it.
Sighing, he stretched out to smooth her crumpled skirt back over her hip. She made a dissenting sound, but he didn’t stop until it was back in place.
“Do you want me to apologize?” he said, hoping and praying that she wouldn’t.
She shook her head.
“I wouldn’t have,” he told her in a low whisper, as if someone there might hear it. She didn’t respond. Careful, sensing how fragile she must feel, he pulled her close so that they were spooned. “Why does this scare you so much, Jess?”
“Doesn’t it scare you?” she asked after several moments pause.
“Yes, but I want it. I want you.”
“You don’t know me.”
“Then why do I feel like I do? I may not know every facet of you, you’re right, that takes time. But I can…” Were there words to explain how she’d gotten into his blood? How she’d changed everything about him in an instant? Filled that space without even trying? “I feel you. Feel us. Inside. Like…like music or art. You just know what it is, feel it to your bones. Don’t you feel it? Like we accidentally found something everyone else was looking for? Something we both wished for but couldn’t get our hands on.”
She shook her head, but it was too vigorous to be believed.
He petted her hair. “Talk to me, Jess.”
“I don’t want to talk. I don’t know how.”
“You’re a lawyer, honey, it’s your job to talk.”
“That’s different, that’s not about me. It’s about someone else.”
“So talk about me, then.”
She shifted, looking over her shoulder at him finally. “What about you?”
“You can tell me what it is about me that makes you so afraid.”
She tried to smile, the same way she tried not to show her fear or her tears. Her hand came up to touch the side of his face. She swallowed, almost convulsively, before opening her mouth to speak. “I’m not ready for you, Kyle. I don’t know anything about couples or commitment or love or anything even remotely like it. You make me feel things I can’t even name. And almost every time I get near you I end up having sex with you. You want something I can never be. You’re dangerous.”
“Because I want a future with you?”
“Because I get the feeling you want a specific future.”
He nodded. She was right about that, at least. He wanted what his parents had. “I want a wife. And kids. I want a house with a yard and a dog and a lawn to mow on Saturdays. I want to wake up from a bad dream and know you’re there. Or wake up from a good one and show you wha
t we did that made it so great. I just want what everyone wants, eventually.”
She shook her head. “Not everyone wants to be a sitcom family. I grew up wanting to be a lawyer. Wanting to change the world for the better. Wanting to dedicate my life to making a difference.”
One of his eyes narrowed. “From the financial department? Why not family law or criminal law?”
She shook her head, almost in repudiation. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Nothing worked out the way I thought because it was a naïve dream. I spent too many years waiting for happy endings to happen, listening to lawyers and social workers and foster parents lie to me to be able to do it to someone else. I can’t make anyone believe in something like what you’re talking about. I don’t know anything about the life you’re describing. I’ve never even seen it, except on TV, and everyone knows that stuff’s never true. Love has never been a part of my life.”
He cupped his hand over hers. “Of course it is. Everyone has felt love.” It was a relief she was using the word. An acknowledgement of sorts. He hoped.
Her hand slipped from beneath his, her frown deepening. “No one has ever loved me and I’ve never loved anyone. You have to understand. That’s not going to change.”
“What about your family? That brother you talked about?” She’d cared about that boy. He’d heard it in her voice when she’d talked about him.
“My mother left me in a church when I was almost a year old. No names, no connections. I was almost adopted. They changed their minds when it looked like they might get me. My ‘brother’ was just one of the million different fosters I helped take care of because I was the oldest in nearly every house I stayed in.”
Since her admission at the hospital, however brief, he’d assumed she’d been orphaned. Abandoned, though. That had never crossed his mind. “Who named you?”