Outside the Lines

by Lisa Desrochers

  “It’s stopped bleeding.”

  “I know.” He’s so damn smug. It’s infuriating, but also makes me want to do unmentionable things to him.

  I shoot him an irritated look, then go back to dabbing on antibiotic ointment. “I wonder if you should get a tetanus shot.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on it.”

  I find my eyes gravitating to the bulge again, and force them back to the wound. “I think all it needs is a bandage.”

  “I know,” he says again.

  I stand and glare down at him as all my mortification and arousal collide in a steaming tangle of emotional carnage. “I feel really bad about this! Just let me help you without making me feel stupid about it, okay?”

  He holds up his hand, a smile tugging at his lips. “My apologies.”

  I lower my gaze and stretch a bandage over the hole in his leg. “Sorry. I just feel like such an idiot. I accuse you of stealing my car when it’s yours, then stare at you with your sister because I thought she was your—” I cut myself off when I realize where I was going.

  “She was my what?” he asks.

  I feel my cringe and refuse to look at him. “Nothing.”

  “But you were staring. Why would you stare at my nothing?”

  My eyes go automatically to the bulge under the towel again—the thing I can’t stop staring at. My breath catches when I realize it’s bigger. And to make matters worse, when he lets his knees fall wider apart, I know he noticed me looking.

  “Your girlfriend, okay?” I say, because it’s only slightly less mortifying that being caught staring at his crotch, and I need to say something.

  “And that bothered you?” His voice is amused, but his eyes aren’t. They’re searching mine as if looking for something he lost there.

  This man gets under my skin on so many different levels. I want to slap him. But, God, there’s no denying the ache low in my belly that tells me my body wants much more from him than that kiss on my desk.

  “Maybe,” I admit, standing.

  He gains his feet, towering over me, and the towel drops away. He hikes his jeans up but makes no move to fasten them, and I’m dying to reach for the erection straining against his boxer briefs. Heat radiates off him as if I’m standing five inches from the sun. I feel a bead of sweat roll between my breasts, tightening my nipples, and another down the back of my neck.

  Without any warning, he lifts me off my feet and crushes me against him, his mouth sealing over mine. I wrap my legs around him. His teeth grind against mine, and his tongue thrusts deep inside my mouth. His desperation is like a palpable thing, a third being in our intimate encounter. His whole body is taut and burns with a heat so intense I know it will consume us both in a burst of spontaneous combustion if I let it.

  Am I ready?

  I’m surprised when there’s nothing inside me, no part of me that even whispers no. This is the passion that I’ve been waiting for all my life. It’s been growing between us since the moment we met, and the sudden calm I feel tells me that deep inside, I’ve always known this is what is was leading to. Even if whatever is happening between me and Rob isn’t forever, I want him to be this part of my forever. This is what I want my first time to be, a memory I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life, no matter what comes after. Because one thing I know, I’m never going to forget this man or the way he makes me feel.

  I start on the buttons of his shirt with trembling fingers, and I feel him stiffen.

  “Stop, Adri,” he whispers against the corner of my mouth.

  When I don’t, he sets me down and grasps my upper arms, peeling me away from him.

  I keep his tortured gaze locked in mine, trying to convey without words how much I want this—how much I feel for him.

  He tips his head back and throws a growl at the world.

  “Don’t be afraid of me,” I say, dragging an index finger from the tip of his stubbled chin over his Adam’s apple, to the hollow of his throat, where I drop a soft kiss.

  His jaw is clenched tight when he lowers his gaze and his eyes find mine again.

  I cup his cheek in my palm and meet that tormented gaze, then stretch up and pull him down to kiss me. “Please.”

  The storm swirling in his eyes intensifies as he fights his internal battle, but then he scoops me up and carries into the hall. When he stops at Dad’s door, I pull my mouth away from his.

  “Last door,” I manage through gasping breaths.

  He pushes through my door and lays me on my bed. He hovers over me for a long time before pulling loose my ponytail. His fingers comb through my hair and he buries his face in it.

  “You scare the living shit out of me, Adri Wilson,” he says so low I barely hear it.

  A shudder races through me at his confession. I want to ask him why he’s so scared. I want to tell him I think I’m falling in love with him. Instead, when he lifts his face out of my hair, I kiss him hard.

  His hands press into my sides and start gliding my top slowly up my stomach. He watches as each new inch of lily-white skin is exposed, as if he’s unveiling the eighth wonder of the world. I lift my arms over my head as goose bumps pebble my flesh. My shirt clears my breasts and he pulls it off, then brushes a fingertip over the nipple straining against the white lace of my bra. I gasp when he lowers his head and flicks it with his tongue, then closes his mouth over the fabric and sucks. He unhooks my bra and sweeps the thin fabric off the straining bud with his thumb. When the soft warmth of his tongue glides over the hypersensitive nub, I can’t stop the moan as I arch into his mouth. He groans in response, and an electric sensation shoots straight from my nipple to my groin, making me pulse with want in a way I never have before. I feel plugged in. Awake on a whole new level.

  I have just enough mental wherewithal to process that if foreplay feels this charged, actual sex is likely to kill me. I try to swallow the moan forcing its way up from deep inside me, but when his hand slips down my stomach, coming to rest between my legs, it spills out in an animal sound I didn’t know I was capable of. I fumble with his shirt buttons, desperate to feel his skin on mine, but it’s a slow process because my hands are trembling so hard.

  His head dips back to my breasts as he unbuttons my slacks, and when his hand slips under my pants and thin cotton panties, my brain short-circuits altogether. Suddenly, I’m one hundred percent sensation, and the feeling of his mouth on my breasts, and his fingers gliding through my most private places and finding the core of me, is too much. His finger slips deep inside and a satisfied moan rolls out of him, and I’m already panting. When his wet finger glides out and strokes over my clit, everything inside me spins into a cyclone of pleasure so intense it hurts. I grind my hips against his hand and whimper something unintelligible as he slips a second finger inside of me.

  His mouth leaves my breasts, giving me just a second to think. “Christ, Adri. You feel so damn good,” he says, his voice low and raw.

  I finally give up on his buttons and tug open the front of his shirt. I slide it over his sculpted shoulders and freeze.

  He’s a patchwork of scars and perfection—beautiful contours over which someone has painted a landscape of violence.

  “What happened?” I whisper, my finger trailing along a smooth white scar down his bicep, one of at least a dozen across his arms and torso.

  His fingers stop working their magic between my legs. He draws away and his face changes as he looks down at me, the hunger fading and something sad taking its place. He gains his feet and stares into my face for an endless minute.

  “You are so fucking beautiful in every way, and all I can do is ruin you,” he finally says, his voice a raw wound. “I will ruin you, Adri, and then I’ll leave. You deserve so much better that that.”

  I can only stare after him as he slips his shirt over his broad back on his way through the door.

  Chapter 17

  Rob

  I was all set to fuck her brains out yesterday and get past all this building tension.
I need this volcano to erupt. It’s the only way I can think to get her out of my system so I can get back to business.

  I was hard as a rock for her. She was wet and ready, and so damn sweet I wanted to eat her alive. That fine body was all laid out, mine for the taking: nipples so pink and perfect, and she was so goddamn tight I almost came just thinking about sinking my cock into her. But then she saw my world firsthand in the map work of scars marking my body—a glimpse at the monster. She looked up at me with those clear blue eyes, so open and trusting, and asked me what happened. Something shined up at me out of their depths that I’d never seen there before. I don’t want to believe whatever she’s feeling runs deeper than lust, but if it does, she’s even more naïve than I thought.

  I couldn’t follow through. It’s that goddamn conscience I’ve grown.

  What I said was true. There’s nothing I can offer her. I’m not the man she thinks I am. I can’t even tell her my real name. If things go bad here and my family is found, her having any association with me will only put her in danger. I’m not going to make her a target.

  I’m on the widow’s walk, trying to pull my shit together, when the Port St. Mary police cruiser rolls slowly up the long drive.

  Lee is at yet another interview, Ulie walked to the store a while ago, and I just saw Grant and Sherm head down the path to the beach. Even with Sherm in his cast, Grant has kept up their afternoon wrestling matches. So when the same cop who was here the night of Grant’s party steps out of his car and moves around the Lumina, cupping his hands over his eyes and peering in all the windows, I don’t move. After a thorough inspection of the car, he strokes his graying beard and turns his attention to the house.

  I pray Ulie won’t be back for a while. My hand wraps around the butt of the Glock in my waistband as I watch him make a slow circle of the exterior. His eyes drift up toward my perch and I press back against the shuttered windows. A few minutes later, over the crash of the ocean, I hear boots on the front porch and a knock on the door below.

  The deep voice carries up from the porch. “Hello? Anybody home?”

  I hear Crash’s muffled barking from inside, but otherwise the house is quiet.

  There’s another knock, then boots moving along the length of the deck, stopping every so often, no doubt to look in the windows.

  It’s several minutes later that a car door slams. An engine starts. When I look over the rail, I see the cruiser turning around in the driveway. As it rolls slowly away, I watch it go and swear under my breath.

  The Feds said local law enforcement wouldn’t know about us, but this cop had no reason to be here today. No parties on the beach. No bikers in the driveway. Which means he knows something … or at least suspects something. Why else would he be snooping around the house?

  I make a mental note to ask Grant who he’s been fucking, then realize what a hypocrite I am. He’s not the one who’s been playing games with the local schoolteacher. I’ve been so sure he was our weak link that I never looked in the mirror. Turns out it was me all along.

  *

  I sent Grant to help Adri break down the carnival booth yesterday. Today, I dropped Sherm at school on my way to my last day of training at Spencer’s. I didn’t walk him in. The truth is, I don’t trust myself around his pretty blue-eyed teacher. The way those eyes can see through me, I know it won’t take long before I’ve given away too much. I don’t miss the irony. I was so afraid she’d be able to read Sherm, but it’s me that can’t hide anything from her.

  When I pull into Spencer’s parking lot, Danni is leaning against a white pickup talking to a blond guy I’ve never seen before. I climb out, walk over.

  “Don’t know why I was expecting the Batmobile,” the guys says, giving me the once-over. “She told me you drive a blue Lumina too.”

  PTSD Chuck. I don’t know what the Batman crack is all about, but a steel rod of jealousy rams through my gut. He’s the reason I have this job. I guess I should have figured I’d run into him sooner or later. I’ve already fucked up anything I might have had going with Adri, so thinking of this guy as competition is stupid, but I can’t help it.

  “Rob,” Danni says, “this is Chuck. He’s going to be your sparring partner today. Figured I’d let you pick on someone your own size.”

  I’m glad. She still has a welt on her cheek from our match two days ago. I don’t want to give her another. But it’s been two days since I left my little blond pixie half-naked on her bed after she darted me. Two days of blue balls and second-guessing myself every time I’ve thought about it … which is all the time. I need an outlet and I’m truly looking forward to putting my fist through this guy’s face.

  But for now, I take his outstretched hand, shake it. “Thanks for hooking me up.”

  “Anything for a brother in arms. Where were you stationed?”

  Shit. Adri must have told him that before I set her straight. I come out of an entirely different war zone. “Adri made the assumption I was ex-military. I’m not and I told her that.”

  He barks a laugh. “That’s just like her, always trying to figure everyone out so she can fix them.”

  He’s right. From the minute Sherm and I set foot in her class, she’s been trying to fix us. But there’s no fixing the unfixable. All she’s managed to do is distract me from what I need to be focused on.

  “Enough of the love fest. Let’s get this show on the road,” Danni says, giving Chuck a sour look.

  Was that jealousy? I scrutinize them on our way into the warehouse, how they walk in sync and hold themselves. They’re comfortable with each other, but there’s no outward PDA. I’m still sorting through possibilities when we reach the mats. They’re old friends? Except Adri and Chuck are old friends, and I’ve never heard her mention Danni. They were stationed together? But Danni told me she’d been in Iraq, and Adri said Chuck had come home from Afghanistan. They’re hiding an affair for some reason? Maybe it’s against the rules … or maybe she’s involved with someone else …

  “Suit up, gentleman,” Danni says.

  I move to the rack, pull my gear down. Chuck does the same.

  “This is your final test, Davidson. Free-form hand to hand. There are no rules. Chuck is going to pull out all the stops trying to get to your client,” she says, flicking a hand at her face, “and your only job is to stop him.”

  “What if I kill him by accident?” I say as I tug on my headgear, only half joking.

  Chuck snorts a laugh as he pulls on a grappling glove, like he doesn’t think it’s possible. Which makes me want to do it even more.

  “Then Elaine will be short a bodyguard,” Danni answers.

  Once we’re geared up, Danni positions herself at the corner of the mat. Chuck circles around to the other side.

  I stand between them, wait for him to show me what he’s got.

  He approaches slowly from my right, giving me a friendly wave.

  I glare at him.

  “You the bodyguard?” he asks with a nudge of his chin at Danni.

  “You really want to back off, buddy,” I warn, the leather of my grappling gloves groaning as I bunch my fists at my sides.

  “I’m a huge fan,” he says with a grin, moving closer despite my warning. “Seen every movie she’s ever made, like, five hundred times.”

  “Sound more like a stalker to me,” I mutter.

  He takes a step, moving to my side, his face pulling into a conspiratorial smirk. “You fucking her? Because holy shit, what guy wouldn’t want a piece of that?”

  I move between him and Danni. “I said, back off.”

  He leans closer, and all the nice guy façade leaves his expression as he lowers his voice so only I can hear. “You fuck with Adri Wilson, and I will rip your balls off and feed them to you.”

  His threat comes out of left field. In the half second it takes me to process it, he’s buckled my knee with a side kick and has Danni in a choke hold behind me.

  “Congratulations, Davidson,” Danni says. “Yo
u just got your client kidnapped and raped. Brilliant first day.”

  I pull myself off the mat and stare Chuck down. “Won’t happen again.”

  Chuck lets Danni go and returns to the other side of the mat.

  The next time he comes at me, I’m ready. He takes a swing at my face. I block it, grab his arm, twist. He rolls out of my grasp and tries to take my knee out again. I sidestep. He dodges my next strike.

  For the next several minutes, we exchange punches and kicks, each deflecting the other. Finally, I manage to plant a roll kick into his ribs. He staggers back, but gets a grasp on my leg. Using it for leverage, he swing kicks at the other, taking us both to the floor. I bring my knee up into his groin before he can get ahold of me. My kneecap cracks hard off an athletic cup. I curse myself for not thinking of that when he grabs my junk and squeezes.

  “Fuck!” I yell as all the air leaves my lungs in a whoosh.

  “Get used to it,” he says under his breath, twisting harder.

  I jam an elbow into his gut, knocking the wind out of him. His grasp on me loosens and I jerk away. I roll to my feet, kick into his ribs. He edges to the side and gains his feet, breathing hard.

  “Not bad,” he says.

  “You can leave my balls alone. I’m not going to fuck with Adri Wilson,” I tell him, still trying to catch my breath.

  He nods. “Good. Then we understand each other.”

  “Not really. Are you and she … ?”

  He blows out a laugh. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “We’ve never been that way with each other.” He shakes his head. “She’s more like my sister than anything. If something happened to fuck up our friendship, there be no one left to keep me from self-destructing.”

  A punch mitt flies in from the edge of the mat and hits me in the back.