Vengeful Shadows

by Bronwyn Green

  It wasn’t enough.

  Dimly, he registered the rattle of the door as it opened.

  “You’re still out here?” Aidan stuck out his head. “Monique’s been looking for you.”

  Tessa stiffened and pulled away. Zander stared at her soft, slightly swollen lips.

  “Spoil-sport,” she muttered, glancing at Aidan. Zander expected to see embarrassment or anger at being caught in a compromising position. Instead, laughter shimmered like crystals in her liquid-blue eyes as she adjusted her shirt.

  “I think this is our cue to leave,” he said.

  Holding onto her hand, he guided her through the French doors and around the perimeter of the crowded room. Monique met them in the foyer and apologized profusely when she heard about the door locking behind them on the balcony.

  Tessa reassured his boss, thanking her for a lovely time. Even with her rain-wet clothes and hair plastered to her head, Tessa was the most beautiful woman there. The most beautiful woman he’d ever known, he corrected himself.

  She’d seemed completely at ease with his colleagues, never batting an eye when they’d launched into a lively discussion of the amount of food-delivered poison needed to kill off an entire room full of people. She’d even volunteered that her cooking could do it without using poison. His coworkers had laughed, and Zander had defended her culinary skills as if they were a real couple.

  Now, Tessa remained conspicuously silent as they drove home. She’d effectively distracted him from discovering the real reason she’d slugged Aidan, but he still wanted answers. He glanced at her, expecting she’d be as forthcoming as usual.

  Had the kiss meant anything to her, or had it simply been a means to stop his questions? He remembered the warmth of her mouth as it traveled across his. Her soft breath had caressed his face. As far as distractions went, it was a good one.

  Shivering, she rubbed her arms, trying to warm them. He cranked up the heat and directed the vents at her.

  “It should warm up in a minute,” he offered.

  She shrugged. “If not, I can think of other options.”

  He hit the brake. Had she said what he’d thought, or was it his hopeless imagination? He wanted her with the desperation of a teenager with his first girl.

  He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She’d stopped trembling and looked like the serene, composed angel he was used to. Not like the woman who had made a suggestive comment a moment ago or the storm-drenched siren hell-bent on seduction. He shifted in a discreet attempt to adjust his slacks. So much for the control he’d thought he had over his hard-on.

  He parked, and they exited the car in silence. Following her up the dimly lit hallway to her apartment door, he steeled himself to say goodnight and walk away. She slid her key in the lock and twisted the handle.

  Uncertainty flitted through her eyes, and she shifted in obvious discomfort. “Quit looking at me like that.”

  “Like what?”

  She shoved her wet hair off her face. “Like I’ve grown an extra nose. Or like you’ve never seen me before.”

  He studied her, feeling almost as though he’d been kicked in the gut. Maybe, he hadn’t ever seen her before. Maybe, he’d simply been content to exaggerate her angelic qualities and construct an insurmountable pedestal for her, ignoring the flesh and blood woman.

  She shivered. Now wasn’t the time to determine if his defense mechanisms were working overtime. She needed to get warmed up. Hopefully, her heat had been repaired.

  He plucked at her damp shirt and lifted it away from her skin. “You should go change. I don’t want you to get sick and miss our next performance,” he said and started to back away.

  Resolve and something that looked like tension veiled her features. She took hold of his tie and stopped him. Moistening her lips with a quick motion of her tongue, she moved toward him. “No goodnight kiss?”

  He surrendered to temptation and traced her collarbone with his fingertip. “We don’t have an audience anymore.”

  She took a shuddering breath and met his gaze. Her teeth sinking into her lower lip betrayed her uneasiness.

  “I don’t think we need one for what I had in mind.”

  Please let her have propositioned me. Zander swallowed hard, wanting Tessa more than any woman he’d ever known. He also knew he should walk away from what she offered. The fear that had reverberated off her when she’d knocked Aidan to the ground still hissed across his nerve endings. He suspected her willingness to sleep with him was a side effect of her anxiety, and he’d feel guilty as hell afterward, but damn it, he wanted her.

  Summoning every ounce of willpower, he cupped her cheek and tilted her face to meet his gaze. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “Have to?” Her eyes narrowed. She stiffened and backed away.

  Uh-oh. Wrong thing to say.

  “You think I’m inviting you in because I feel some misguided sense of obligation?”

  “That’s not what I meant,” he blurted.

  “No?” Her eyes darkened, glittering with fury and hurt. She turned and pushed the door open. “Goodnight.”

  “Tess, wait.” He couldn’t let her think he didn’t want her. Grabbing her shoulders, he urged her to face him, intending to let her know in no uncertain terms how she affected him. “I—”

  “You’ve made it clear. I’m not what you want. Just leave. Please.”

  She wasn’t what he wanted? He almost laughed. He wanted her so much he couldn’t think straight. Frustrated, he shoved his hand through his hair.

  “Damn it, angel.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  He didn’t know what was going on in her head, but she needed to understand exactly what it was he wanted. If she still decided to push him away, he’d deal with it. But first, she’d hear him out.

  Chapter Seven

  Tessa shook her head, unable to decide who she was more disgusted with—herself or Zander. She pushed against his chest. “Go to bed.”

  A sexy half-smile curved his lips. “I intend to.”

  Tessa glared at him and crossed her arms over her chest, angry with both his presumption and her response to the arousing timber of his voice. Despite her irritation, spirals of need curled through her.

  Focusing on his face, she tried to quell her reaction to him. The color of his eyes deepened, changing from fern to evergreen. Submerged and floundering in their shadowy depths, she struggled to speak.

  He traced the outline of her lips with his fingertip, the slightest tremble of restraint in his touch. Closing the distance between them, he cupped the back of her head and drew her to him. He moved slowly, as if daring her to pull away. His fingers stroked her scalp. Shivers of pleasure streaked along her back to pool at the base of her spine. His mouth slanted over hers, and he groaned as she opened beneath him.

  Long-dormant sexual desire pitched and swelled, threatening to swamp her. Tessa fisted her hands in his shirt and drew him closer. His taste washed over her, drowned her, swept her into his heat. A whimper escaped her. It seemed to drive his need higher, and he backed her against the wall.

  That same sound brought her back to reality. What was she doing? She’d been fighting the sexual pull between them for days, and now, she was giving in? Why? Was this just a pathetic attempt for power over their situation? Control over him?

  In the past, when she’d felt scared or angry, she’d turned to sex. Control the man—control the situation. But what if this was more than that? What if she genuinely wanted him? A seed of self-doubt tried to root in her soul.

  Fear and an unwillingness to further examine her motives pushed her toward the rocky slope of anger. A moment ago, he’d tried to convince her she didn’t want this. A cold knot tightened her stomach. Maybe, he didn’t want the heat flaring between them. He’d promised her “pretend”, after all.

  She wrenched from his arms and pushed him away. “I don’t want pity sex,” she bit out, backing away from him.

  He blinked, and his
heated gaze settled into determination. He pursued her, purposefully. With deliberate slowness, he took her hand and trailed circles around her palm with his thumb. Her pulse skittered in nervous anticipation.

  “Pity sex?” His voice took on a dangerous edge. Turning her hand downward, he placed it over the rigid proof of his arousal. He held her fingers there, covered with his. “Does this feel like sympathy to you?”

  Involuntarily, her fingers curled around him, and her body clenched with hunger. She couldn’t meet his gaze.

  With his free hand, he lifted her chin. “This is a raw I’ve-wanted-to-be-buried-inside-you-since-we-met response.”

  The fervor in his expression and words halted the breath in her chest. Her hand flexed, and he arched into her with a low moan. The ragged sound of his voice nearly penetrated her core of control. And that was the problem. He threatened her control, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t fight it. And win.

  “This is an, I’ve-been-dying-to-touch-you-every-time-we’re-together reaction,” he murmured, his velvety voice stroked her senses. “This is an I-wanted-to-take-you-on-the-balcony-in-the-rain-with-a-room-full-of-people-next-door reaction.”

  The rough desire in his intonation was as evident as the irrefutable proof she held in her hand.

  Would it really hurt to give into this mutual attraction? “Do you academic types ever shut up?” she asked in a broken whisper.

  A wicked, almost feral smile crossed his face. “Have I made my point?”

  “I don’t know.” She glanced at his erection as she released the button on his pants. “Will there be a test?”

  “Don’t worry,” he gasped as her fingers skimmed across the tip of his arousal. “It’s an open-book exam.”

  Tessa pushed open her door and stepped into the living room. “Are you coming?”

  He pointedly surveyed her. “Only after you.”

  Trembles that had nothing to do with the wet clothes clinging to her body assailed her. The heated intensity in his eyes sharpened as he reached behind him to shut and lock the door. For a moment, she froze, unable to draw a breath. Her breasts grew heavy with want, and her nipples budded under his scrutiny. A flicker of lightning brightened the room, illuminating him. He leaned against the wall and waited.

  She wanted this. She wanted him. Charged anticipation drew her toward him. She kicked off her shoes, heedless of where they landed. Her toes curled into the carpet as a sudden burst of anxiety chilled her. It had been years since she’d primarily felt desire rather than the frantic need to exorcise her sexual demons. But this was lust. Actual, pulse-pounding, panty-dampening lust coursed through her veins. Her whole body vibrated with need stronger than she’d ever experienced.

  Tessa watched Zander watch her, his gaze compelling and inescapable. A slight smile curved her lips as she moved toward him. Expectation settled low in her belly as his mouth claimed hers in a desperate, hungry kiss. There was nothing gentle or tentative about this kiss. He dragged her against him, no longer treating her as if she might break. A shiver of unease snaked through her, but it was quickly smothered away by the sharp yearning that grew stronger with every stroke of his tongue.

  His hands moved over her torso and hips as if he couldn’t decide where to touch first. Heat flared everywhere his fingers landed, no matter how briefly. The warmth of his body heated her through the chilled, wet fabric clinging to her skin. One wide palm slid over her ribcage and hovered at the underside of her breast. Butterflies of anticipation collided in her middle, and her breath caught in her throat as she waited. She pressed closer, unable to stand his not-quite-intimate-enough caress. He must have understood her unspoken plea. He cupped her and brushed his thumb across her distended nipple. A strangled cry slipped out as he teased and plucked at her flesh.

  Lightning flashed again, throwing Zander’s features into sharp relief. His insatiable lips and tongue plundered her mouth as his wandering hands crushed the fabric of her skirt and inched it up her legs. The cool, wet fabric dragging over her hypersensitive skin sent chills racing through her. He kneaded her bottom, slipping inside her underwear, and she wondered if he’d be able to tell just how aroused she was. The slight calluses on his fingertips teased her sensitive skin, and she shivered—more from his proximity than the cold. His fingers encountered her slick moisture, and he groaned, the sound muffled against her mouth.

  With erratic movements, she clawed his jacket from his shoulders and let it drop. She wanted to feel his skin. To taste it. He jerked the tie from his neck. It fell to the floor, forgotten.

  She made quick work of his shirt buttons. Several popped off in the process. Her hands stroked across the muscled planes of his chest in reckless exploration. Goose bumps covered his skin, and his nipples beaded tightly as her fingers brushed over them. Changing course, she stroked his back before dipping her hands beneath the waistband of his pants. He groaned. She tasted his skin as she stripped his shirt from his body and trailed her mouth across his hot, rain-damp skin, taking care to scrape her teeth across his pecs. He ground his erection against her. An answering ache throbbed between her legs as a fresh rush of moisture flooded her pussy.

  Control wasn’t something she surrendered willingly. Not anymore. Not since him. But Zander made her want to scream, “Do me, now!” Taking that step was as improbable as her mother taking a vow of poverty and joining an order of nuns. Instead, Tessa led him to the couch and pushed him onto the cushions. His eyes widened in surprise when she grabbed hem of her shirt and drew it over her head.

  The wind wailed outside, a dull echo of the storm that raged through her. Rain slashed against the windows like pebbles thrown against glass. The noise raised goose bumps on her fevered skin. She moved into his warmth.

  Zander dragged his hands up her thighs and lifted her skirt. His rumble of appreciation as he bared her flesh sent desire shivering along her limbs. He grasped her hips and dragged his mouth across her stomach. His tongue circled her navel before it dipped into the slight indentation. She trembled at the contact, her internal muscles clenched as she imagined his mouth moving lower. What she wouldn’t give to have his mouth on her pussy. She slid her fingers into his hair and contemplated urging him in that direction, but before she could decide, he found the closure on her skirt. She pushed his hands away and released the clasp. The fabric dropped wetly to her feet. Freed, she straddled him, nervous excitement coiling in her stomach. He arched against her heat and gripped her waist, angling her closer to his erection. The sensation of his cock rocking against her pussy momentarily halted her ability to think. She’d forgotten what it was like to be this close to a man.

  His damp, silky hair caressed her skin as he edged closer. She inhaled on a gasp when his lips fastened onto her nipple through the stiff lace of her bra. The wet heat of his mouth, combined with the rasp of fabric almost sent her over the edge. For a moment, she trembled then rocked against him, trying to regain some semblance of control. His hips jerked at her motion, and his shuddering breath warmed her skin. Vibrations of awareness thrummed through her.

  He slid his hands over her shoulders to slip into her wet hair. His lips were hot and demanding, but she met every advance with her own. She moved to free her bra clasp but one of his hands engulfed hers.

  Realization surfaced through the haze of passion. He’d backed her against a wall tonight and now held her immobile, but neither had fazed her. She hadn’t panicked. She’d barely noticed. Before she could explore the thought, he seduced it away.

  “Let me,” he murmured against her mouth. “I need…” His words drifted off as he buried his face between her breasts.

  “You need what?” she prompted.

  His eyes opened. Brilliant, deep green but clouded with yearning, they held her motionless.

  “You.” The word tore from him on a rusty whisper that twisted her insides. He trailed his fingers up her spine.

  She wanted to trust him—more than anything. She could do this. She could let herself be vulnerable with
him. She closed her eyes as his fingers found the clasp and released it.

  Her eyes flew open as Zander took a deep breath, his gaze on her bared breasts. As if in a trance, he raised his hands to palm her nipples. Lowering his head, he captured one and drew it hard into his mouth. Her body bowed as she arched into him.

  She gasped at the hedonistic sensation of skin on skin. To stifle the moan that threatened, she sank her teeth into her lower lip. Her eyes started to flutter closed, but the glance he sent her snapped them open. Hot and ravenous, he devoured her with a look.

  Tessa summoned up the miniscule dominion she still held over her body and its responses. He might not have triggered her defenses, but true vulnerability wasn’t an option. She tightened her thighs around him, seeking to salvage her control. Holding his head immobile, she took his mouth with a deep, slow, soul-searing kiss. He groaned, and she tasted her name on his lips. This was how it was supposed to be. She was affecting him, not the other way around.

  His hands cupped her waist, and he thrust against her as he lavished open-mouthed kisses on her neck. His whispered words of pleasure caressed her skin, and her arousal heightened. Of their own volition, her hips rocked into his.

  Without warning, he captured her nipple, grazing it with his teeth and drawing hard on it. At the same time, he slid his hand across her belly, slipping his thumb inside her panties and skimming it over her neglected clit. That slight touch, nothing more than the mere brush of flesh on flesh, set off a riot of sensations exploding through her body. From a distance, she heard a low keening she recognized as her voice. Release more intense than anything she’d ever experienced mingled with vague dread.

  Zander stroked her back, and for a moment, Tessa rested her head against his chest. The warm scent of his skin soothed her until she realized tears dampened cheeks, and she tasted blood in her mouth. She must have bitten her lip.