“I don’t have a spare bedroom, but the sofa pulls out to a bed,” she informed him. Her nervousness sharpened into anger as she struggled with the lock on the front door, her trembling hands unable to cope with the simple task.
When Sheriff Taylor didn’t reply, she threw him a quick glance over her shoulder. A frown marred his rugged features, making him look hard and implacable. She finally conquered the lock and shoved the door open. He said nothing as he placed his hand on the small of her back to propel her through, almost making her stumble as he urged her to move faster than her feet were prepared for.
Justine came to a halt in the middle of the small hall that opened up to the living room. She tried to draw a calming breath. Her hand fisted around the keys until the sharp edges cut into her palm.
Sheriff Taylor pushed the front door to a soundless close and turned to face her. He inspected her for a few seconds, his features void of expression. Then he reached out and pried the keys from her hand. Without looking, he dropped them on the narrow table lined up against the wall, his movements slow and deliberate.
“I didn’t come here to sleep on a sofa,” he said softly. “I came here to make love to you again. We have no choice about that. Don’t make the situation any more difficult than it needs to be.” A frown skimmed over his features. “You seemed to enjoy it the last time, so what’s the problem now?”
Justine kicked off her shoes, trying to find courage in the physical action. “Surely, there’s no need to actually have sex, as long as people believe that we are lovers,” she said, her voice brittle. She crouched down to line up her black high heels on the rack next to a red pair, dragging out the task in order to avoid rising up to face him. She couldn’t quite understand why she suddenly felt so frightened of repeating their intimacy, but the truth was that her heart hammered so hard it hurt in her chest, and she simply didn’t want to look at him.
She was reaching out to adjust the shoes on the rack one more time when she heard a movement behind her.
Rough hands slotted beneath her arms and yanked her to stand up. “If you are trying to play games with me, I’m warning you, I have no patience for female ploys.”
Her head fell back as Mark gave her body an angry shake. She reluctantly raised her eyes to his, and froze as she saw the fury blazing in them.
“I’m not playing games,” she told him in a strangled whisper. “Why are you so angry?”
He stared at her, his fingers digging into the flesh on the side of her breasts as he gripped her tight. “All evening I’ve been on my best behavior to make this easy for you, and now you come up with some crap about not wanting to sleep with me again.” His face drew into a scowl. “Well, let me tell you this—there’s no point in locking the stable door once the horse has already bolted. You can’t convince me that you’re a bashful maiden protecting her virtue. I’ve had you trashing under me, taking everything I could give and begging for more.”
Justine tried to squirm free, which only served to strengthen the way his big hands curled around her ribcage. “It’s different now,” she muttered. “That night was a folly. A slice out of time. Not the real me.”
His angry expression softened. “I know this is a difficult situation, but you promised on the phone you’d help.” A muscle jerked on the side of his jaw. “I don’t think you really understand what’s at stake here. My job. My livelihood.” His eyes searched hers. “If there is an investigation, lying isn’t an option. I need to make love to you again, at least twice. Three is the lowest number that will allow me to state several times if the question comes up during a hearing.”
“Twice?” Justine murmured. “If you are staying the weekend, perhaps we could wait until tomorrow?”
“There’s no time for that,” he said gruffly. “I have other plans for tomorrow.” He stared down at her, then muttered an oath and lowered his head. Hauling her body against his, he crushed his mouth over hers.
Justine let out a squeal of surprise, cut short by his rough kiss. For a few seconds, an explosion of rage kept her back rigid. She curled her hands over his shoulders, intending to push him away as his words rang through her mind. I have other plans for tomorrow. He wasn’t even going to pretend the weekend was a romantic interlude. It was a quick tumble in her bed, and then he’d be off to do whatever he really wanted to do with his weekend.
She told herself she ought to push him away, but her body betrayed her. Instead of pushing him away, her hands on his shoulders clutched him closer, and her mouth yielded under his, responding to the hot roaming of his lips that burned on her skin. When his tongue invaded her mouth and began to probe deep inside, a whimper of pleasure rose in her throat.
She felt his hands reach down and tug at the hem of her little black dress, bunching the garment around her waist. When he cupped his fingers between her legs, she adjusted her bare feet on the hardwood floor, taking half a step apart to offer him better access. His thumb traced back and forth through the thin silk of her panties, sending tendrils of excitement curling through her stomach.
“I didn’t want to use your own body against you, to seduce you into something you might regret later,” Sheriff Taylor said as he lifted his mouth from hers. “I wanted you to be clear of what would happen between us tonight before I touched you at all.” His voice carried a smug tone of satisfaction. “But I knew it wouldn’t be difficult for me to turn that no into a yes.”
Justine didn’t reply. A fire ignited inside her, burning away every thought of caution as it raged through her. She fisted her hands over the edges of his shirt and yanked the fabric apart. The buttons made tiny clinks as they scattered on the floor. For a second she felt Mark go tense. Then a soft chuckle vibrated in his chest beneath her hands.
“So that’s how it is going to be now?” he said, his voice a husky growl. “No holds barred.”
She ignored his comment, instead running her hands along his muscular shoulders to push back the shirt. Bending her head, she found one tight brown nipple and took it between her teeth, increasing the pressure until she heard him groan and felt his body shudder. He shoved his hands roughly into her hair and held her tight, almost preventing her from sinking down to her knees.
“Jesus,” he rasped as she set to work with his belt buckle.
When she had the black pants undone and pooled around his ankles, Justine leaned back on her heels to look up into his face. He was staring down at her, his eyes dark, his face taut as he fought to remain in control of his actions.
“You don’t have to do this,” he murmured. “If making love to me really scares you as much as it seems to, I’ll leave and take my chances with the investigation.”
“Are you telling me that you want me to stop?” Justine asked, using the tone of a patient teacher with an inept pupil.
“Christ, no.”
She arched her brows. “Say please.”
Sheriff Taylor flinched beneath her hands as he finally understood she’d set out to show him that she could entrap him just as easily as he could dominate her. The movement of his body made the powerful erection in front of her face jolt, and she sensed the desperate effort he made to reel in his need for a release.
Justine peered up at him, her eyes narrowed as hot anger continued to surge through her. “Say please,” she repeated harshly. Then she lifted her hand and lightly touched one fingertip to the end of his quivering shaft.
His sharp intake of breath turned into a growl. “Please,” he choked out through gritted teeth.
Justine sent him a triumphant smile, and then she leaned forward and ran her tongue along his pulsing erection. Sheriff Taylor groaned. Justine stopped, but only to glance up at him. He leaned back against the hall table, his eyes closed. Perspiration beaded on his brow, and his breath came in labored gasps.
With a fierce sense of victory, Justine closed her mouth around the tip of his shaft and proceeded to show the arrogant Sheriff Taylor that in the battle between the sexes, men didn’t stand a chance.
* * * *
Mark fought to control his ragged breath. If it wasn’t for the edge of the hall table that he clung to, he would have collapsed on the floor. Never in his life had he experienced anything even remotely comparable to the shattering release that had just exploded through every cell in his body.
Justine returned from the bathroom where she had disappeared after she nearly killed him with her clever mouth. And damn if she hadn’t stopped to comb her hair and adjust her little black dress, emerging as cool as a chilled bottle of champagne. As if she hadn’t just devoured his cock and brought him the kind of incredible pleasure that would enslave a lesser man for the rest of his days.
He’d gone into a lot of trouble to put her at ease over dinner, knowing that the brazen night of loving a week ago had been out of character for her. He had never expected to see again, and when fate intervened in the guise of Mrs. Harper, he’d been prepared to soothe her, cajole her, do whatever it took to get her to comply with the need for them to have sex a few more times. He was willing to do just about anything, except lure her with empty promises, or pretend that their relationship was anything beyond temporary and dictated by necessity.
He knew what kind of women worked in public relations for big city firms, and he’d sworn to steer clear of the type. The vain, neurotic, back stabbing, free spending, unfaithful, image-conscious type. He was not a man to make the same mistake twice.
“That was an interesting way to show that you’re angry with me,” he said as she padded past him in her bare feet, apparently without any intention to stop and talk to him.
“I don’t like arrogance in a man.”
“What have I done to make you think I’m arrogant?” He bent down to tug his pants back up, so he could move fast if it became necessary to chase after her.
Justine gave a bitter laugh, and it dawned on Mark that her nerves were closer to the edge than he’d appreciated.
“What have you done?” she blurted at him. “Apart from crashing my party, flirting with all the women, and then taking it for granted that you can seduce me against my will?”
“And which of that makes me arrogant?”
“All of it!”
He shrugged his shoulders, feeling confused, both by her words, and by the solid feeling of satisfaction they stirred up inside him. “As far as I’m concerned, I showed good manners at your dinner party, and as to being able to seduce you, since when does accepting the truth make a man arrogant?”
“You were supposed to be a country hick who needed me to look after him in the big city,” she muttered. “Instead you charm everyone, seduce me, and have your own plans for the weekend.”
Mark stopped searching for any remaining buttons on his shirtfront. “Is that what this is all about?” he said in astonishment. “That I wasn’t planning to spend the weekend with you?”
He watched as Justine’s mouth puckered into a stubborn pout. Her shoulders shifted in an uncertain shrug and the fight seemed to ebb out of her. She contemplated him in stony silence.
“When I called, you seemed too busy to squeeze me in for a quick tumble between the sheets, let alone a whole day.” He stepped closer, and without thinking, he touched the back of his fingers to her cheek in a soothing gesture. “You’re welcome to join me tomorrow.”
She peered at him through her lashes, and the eager look made his chest tighten.
“What are you planning to do?” she asked.
He raised his other hand and cupped her face between his palms, fascinated by the curiosity that had replaced the fury in her eyes.
“I’m taking my niece and nephew to Valley Forge to see Washington’s Headquarters.”
“They live in the city?”
He smiled down at her and stepped closer, until their bodies almost touched. His thumbs moved in an unconscious gesture to gently rub over her lower lip. “You ask too many questions,” he said. Then he bent down and kissed her, the pressure of his lips soft and tempting. He could feel her hesitate, and then she leaned into him and responded to the kiss.
“I’d like to take you to bed now,” he whispered.
“Why?” she whispered back.
“Because now that you’ve got rid of your anger, you’ll be ready to make love to me rather than use sex as a weapon.”
“Is that what I was doing?”
He smiled against her lips. “Yes,” he told her. “And a lethally effective one too. Damn near killed me.”
“I’ll have to remember that,” she breathed, her mouth brushing his.
Mark groaned in defeat, realizing that he might end up hanging around longer than was strictly necessary, simply out of the hope of repeating the experience he’d just been through. The thought made him harden, and he bent to scoop her in his arms. “Which way is the bedroom?”
She raised one elegant arm. “Over there.”
“Truce?” he said as he lowered Justine against his chest so that she could reach down to the doorknob and open the bedroom door.
“Truce,” she replied, and when her arms came around his neck and she planted a soft kiss on his lips, he found her gesture of surrender almost unbearably sweet.
Then they were by the bed, and he settled her on the quilted cover.
Vulnerability in a woman broke his defenses like nothing else. He nudged her over to her stomach and reached for the zipper at the back of her little black dress. Inch by inch, he pulled it open, bending to kiss the exposed skin between her shoulder blades. Her soft moans of pleasure eased his troubled mood.
Justine wasn’t to blame for his current predicament. She was a victim of circumstances, just as much as he was. Honesty forced him to admit that dealing with the situation had to be easier on a man than it was on a woman.
Unsure of exactly what filled him with such tenderness, Mark set out to give Justine pleasure that she would remember long after he was gone. She lay languid before him, allowing him to undress her. Shifting her shoulders, she helped him slide down the dress, and then she raised her hips so he could ease off the garment and the panties beneath.
He quickly discarded his own clothes and climbed on the bed beside her. She pressed her face into the covers, and he brushed her curtain of shiny hair aside to kiss her neck. Slowly, dreamily, he claimed her body with lingering touches and roaming lips. The curve of her shoulders, each side in turn. The arch of her back. Traveling down one vertebra at a time, until he reached the swell of her buttocks. Down her legs and back up again. The dip of her waist, the side of a breast peeking from beneath her body.
All the while, she trembled under his touch. Her murmured pleas for more filled him with a sense of ownership. When he could take no more, when the blood pounded through his cock so hard it bordered on pain, Mark paused to get ready and stretched out over her.
“Do you want me?” he whispered into her ear.
“Like this?” she asked, twisting her head to look at him.
“Yes.” He nuzzled the curve of her jaw. “I’ll keep it slow.”
She gave him a wordless nod.
He reached down, urged her legs apart, and slipped his arm beneath her to tilt her hips to give him better access. He ground his teeth to keep from ramming into her, the way instinct demanded. Instead, he eased into her, taking forever. When he finally filled her, he stopped and waited until she began to rock her hips to meet him take him deeper still.
With excruciating patience, he withdrew and slipped back inside. He lost all sense of time as he continued the slow thrust and drag, bringing her to a shuddering peak, making her shatter beneath him, and then waiting for her to calm down, so he could start all over again.
Giving, not taking, and the selfless act seemed to forge the most complete possession he had ever experienced.
* * * *
When Justine woke in the morning, she found herself spooned against Mark, his arm around her waist, anchoring her close. She barely dared to breathe. What madness had overcome her yesterday? A hot flush crept over her
skin as she recalled how she had allowed the blistering anger to turn her into a sexual aggressor. Then she closed her eyes and thought how Mark had carried her to bed and made love to her with a tenderness that still tugged at her heart.
Sheriff Taylor was a dangerous man, but that was something she’d known from the instant she first saw him storming across the floor into his office.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked, without any apparent transition between sleep and wakefulness.
Almost against her will, Justine snuggled closer. “Yes.”
“Do you want to come with me today?”
“I don’t know.” Hesitation muffled her voice. How would he introduce her to his brother’s children, who would no doubt mention her when they got home? Friend? Girlfriend? Or would he keep it deliberately vague?
“How old are your niece and nephew?” she asked.
“Seven and ten.”
“Do you have any children?”
His arm tensed around her. “No.”
“Have you ever been married?”
“Yes.” He shifted along the bed. “Have you?” he asked. She could hear the strain in his voice, and knew that although he might be curious about her, his main reason for asking the question had been to turn the conversation away from him.
“No,” she said.
“How come?”
“I almost got married when I was in my early thirties.” She paused for a moment, puzzled by the impulse that had her pouring out her relationship history to a stranger. “The man was my boss. He was divorced with three children, and he made it clear he didn’t want any more. I decided it was too much of a sacrifice.” She couldn’t stop the wistful little sound that rose in her chest. “Seems foolish now, since I’ve ended up childless anyway.”
“It must have seemed the right decision at the time. You couldn’t know then that you wouldn’t meet someone else.”
Justine was glad she had her back to Mark, so he couldn’t see the sheen of tears in her eyes. “That’s right,” she said. “And the guy turned out to be a bastard anyway.”
Trouble with the Law Page 5