Danger of Desire (7 page)

“I’ve got a deal for you, Donovan,” I said finally with a little gleam in my eye.

“A deal? This should be good… What’s the deal, Pet?” he answered, the sparkle in his gray eyes warming my heart.

“No more secrets, okay?” I said.

“And if I agree to this ‘no more secrets’ what’s in it for me?” he grinned down at me.

“Me.” I answered, and the smile that burst full blown across his face was brighter than the sun.

“Now that’s the best offer I’ve ever had,” he said and kissed me and I knew I would never be lonely again.

Promises to Keep

The room vibrated with sound as the door slammed open, and Darcy sat bolt upright on her couch. Her eyes were assaulted by the yellow light streaming in from the hallway and she remembered falling asleep in her living room earlier after yet another very bad day.

And it didn’t look like it was getting any better.

The intruder slammed the door again, this time throwing her even further into blindness as her eyes tried to adjust to the extremes they’d been subjected to.

Darcy’s breath caught in her throat as she felt rather than heard footsteps approaching her in the dark and she tried to gauge what her chances were to reach her kitchen before her uninvited guest reached her. She quickly came to the realization that she had to try for the door instead—there was no way she could reach the kitchen without getting even closer to the threat.

She gently pushed herself up and out of her blankets, preparing to throw her bare legs over the back of the sofa, thinking she would slide across it and put the oversized piece of furniture between her and whoever this was. She was afraid to consider who it could be—she had rattled a particularly nasty tree earlier—but she knew it was more important to get away. She could worry about
who
it was later.

So, one leg—slowly, listening—and then the other. She braced both feet on the floor and lunged towards the door, only to find herself pedaling in midair as a steel band of arm grabbed her around her waist and swung her off her feet. She could feel the muscles ripple as they held her thrashing body harmlessly above the floor and she cried out.

“Let me go! Let me go you crazy, fucking son-of-a-bitch!” She yelled.

Darcy knew that her neighbors wouldn’t be coming to save her. She’d chosen this building because of its privacy and security. The walls were thick, and the neighbors weren’t nosy. The perfect apartment… usually.

“Never.” The voice cut across her hysteria—it was dark, and dangerous, and filled with anger, and she knew it like she knew her own face.

“Donovan?” She hissed as all her fear morphed instantly into anger, “What in the seven hells do you think you’re
doing
?!”

Just as suddenly, her anger changed again as Donovan took advantage of her sudden stillness to wrap a hand around her throat.

“I could ask you the same thing, Pet,” he growled into her ear. “Imagine my surprise when Jasper called me today to tell me that you’d been dragged out of Parkinson’s house today and left lying in his front yard, while he, of course, got away.”

Darcy realized that Donovan was truly angry with her, and for once couldn’t bring herself to blame him. He had warned her to stay away from Parkinson, had asked her to let him handle it. He was only going to be gone one day and then he and Jasper would take care of him. She’d nodded and agreed in the team meeting—of course she’d let them handle it!—but Parkinson’s wife was planning on running, and she needed a head start or she’d probably end up on a slab in the morgue. So, Darcy bought her some time.

Expensive time.

The voice in her ear continued.

“I got five calls in as many minutes—you were unconscious, maybe dead, left lying in the snow. Do you have any idea what that did to me?” Donovan’s voice cracked as he spoke, his hot breath bathing her face and neck as she felt the tremble in his arms. “Do you?”

In two strides he had crossed the room and spun them until she was pinned against the wall, his long leg thrust between hers, lifting her to her toes, keeping her slightly off balance.

“Knowing that after all this time—after fighting through months of dancing and denial—I might have lost you forever because you
can’t follow orders
.” Donovan was growling, his frustration a palpable thing, and Darcy couldn’t help but hear the fear underneath the anger—the fear that he’d lost her.

 “None of my men would have pulled a stunt like that. None of them would have lied to me—LIED to me Darcy—about accepting their orders. And not only did you not follow through on our agreement, you went out there with NO BACKUP!” He snarled again, his anger rearing its ferocious head.

Suddenly, as if a damn had burst letting all his bottled up emotions flood free he put his hands out to either side of her as he leaned in closer. She could feel the heat of his breath against her cheek, as he spoke again, each word gritted out so sharply it could cut diamonds.

“You are never,
never
to do that again. Do you understand?”

He could practically feel the pounding of her heart as Darcy turned her face away, blushing furiously. She looked like she was about to argue the point when he suddenly closed the final few inches between them and covered her mouth with his own. He brushed his lips roughly against hers, and his insistent tongue pushed past her parted lips, his hand grasping the nape of her neck so that she couldn't draw away.

Darcy’s first thought was to beat the shit out of him—how
DARE
he tell her what to do?—but at the first contact of their lips she felt a connection snap into place between them. Her heartbeat pounded loudly in her head, and prickly tingles raced across her skin where they were touching, her bare legs held captive against his fully clothed ones, her skin soft against muscles, guns, and leather, and a little voice in her head whispering
more, oh please, more, more….

As the passion became overwhelming, her anger began to elude her; there was only the explorations of Donovan’s mouth, the heat of his presence, and the sounds of her small moans and ragged breathing. She would do anything—
anything
—if he would just keep kissing her, keep touching her.

And as if he could read her mind, he stopped.

His eyes were wild, glazed with desire but still laced with the anger that had driven him earlier. His glance took in the shadows falling across her face, and the pale spill of her hair as it pooled against the wall. He could smell her shower gel, and her shampoo, knowing that she’d spent at least an hour in the shower after her incident today—she always tried to drown her troubles that way. He could hear her breath as it hitched in her chest, and he could hear a voice in his head whispering
more, more… her… swim in her, drown in her, drink her…  more, more, MORE!

“Donovan, please…” she whispered in the dark, the words he’d ached to hear for months dripping from her lips, “I need you; I’m so sorry, please,
please
….”

He traced the pad of his thumb over her kiss-swollen lower lip and lowered his lips to her ear.

“I need to know that I can trust you. If you’re going to be part of my life, I need to know you can follow orders. Do you think you can do that for me?” He whispered darkly.

“Oh yes, anything… anything… I promise.” She babbled, all concern over his telling her what to do melting away in the thought of being part of his life and in the heat of her need for him.

“No Pet, not this time… promises aren’t enough. I need you to show me.” Donovan said calmly.

Darcy tossed her head wildly.
Show him?
She thought to herself.
How am I supposed to show him?
She brought her hands up to his face, trying to kiss him again, but he pulled back at the last moment and she almost whimpered her frustration.

“Let me show you. You can trust me. I’ll do anything. Just tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it,” she swore emphatically.

“Take your shirt off.”

Donovan took two steps back allowing Darcy’s feet to gain purchase on the carpet and stopped. He didn’t speak, he didn’t move. He stood silently watching and waiting for her to do as he’d directed.

He saw her eyes widen in the dark room as he’d spoken. Her mouth opened to voice some argument, but her hands—although they clenched reflexively—made no move to remove her shirt.

He inclined his head slightly, accepted her silent refusal, and turned to leave.

“Donovan,” she started, stopping to swallow, trying to lubricate her rusty voice, “where are you going?”

“I’m leaving. I told you what to do, and even with something as simple as the removal of a shirt, you balk. You obviously don’t want this, so I’m leaving.”

A tremor raced through Darcy’s body as she realized the depth of her failing. She had promised him not once, but twice to do what he asked, and she had broken that promise both times. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen it before. She’d have taken it off willingly, no
happily
, if it hadn’t been an order. But orders… her temper always got the better of her. Years of fighting her Da and her brothers… living with Liam but never giving over to him. It was her greatest failing, and her heart clenched in her chest as she watched that miraculous form as it wended its way through her darkened apartment and she whispered to him.

“Stop. Please.”

She grasped the tail of her long t-shirt in her shaking hands and pulled it indecorously over her head, her breasts bare in the darkness, his eyes a physical caress as they traveled across them. He turned, lithe and graceful, and glided toward her with the elegance of a natural predator. Every nuance of him inspired that comparison, promising a heady mix of danger and pleasure in his embrace. She began to shake as he drew nearer and she anticipated his intentions--shivering, but not from the cold.

His long fingers wound themselves into her hair, using it as leverage to draw her face closer to his. His other hand rested on her hip asserting his possession of her and he pulled her against him. His presence overpowered her and she inhaled his intoxicating scent—cologne, and soap, but also gun oil and the sharp tang of his sweat. The scent alone was enough to seduce her. It was unmistakably him, luxurious and masculine and it left her wanting to bury her face against his chest and breathe him in until he filled her every sense.
He brushed his open lips across hers with the softness of a feather, teasing her into response, and at that gentle contact, her relief was so strong her heart beat so in her chest that it felt close to bursting, but when she finally tried to catch his lips in a proper kiss, he pulled back.

"Follow me," he whispered.

Darcy followed along, caught in the pull of him. He didn't touch her once as they shifted, and he walked slowly ahead of her, trusting her to follow without turning to check. He led her into her bedroom and whispered, “Lie down.”

This time there was no pause in her response, lying down on the familiar bed with alacrity. They had been here before, and that made it easier somehow.

Donovan sat on the edge of the bed and stared at her.

“You have the most beautiful body,” he whispered throatily, and she felt pleasure at his words flush across her skin. “I lie in bed and dream of the satin of your skin dragging across me. I fantasize about having you draped across my chest, my cock in that velvet vise of your pussy, hearing you pant as you try to get some grip on the pleasure rocking through you.”

Darcy could feel the spurt of slickness that his voice triggered and rubbed her thighs together to try to alleviate the heavy ache consuming her. She groaned deeply, twisting on the bed, sitting up to try to persuade him to join her, only to have Donovan place one hand on her shoulder to push her gently back down onto the bed.

With his free hand, he gently lifted her breast and cupped her in his hand. He dipped his head and took her nipple in his mouth. Darcy squirmed as he tugged on her with his lips and she gasped when his teeth grazed her skin. She could feel her flesh tightening under his ministrations and she audibly moaned when he bit down. Every touch, every bite was bringing her higher, making her feel heavier, hotter.

“Donovan,” she whispered, “don’t you think you’re a little overdressed?”

She waited for him to stand and strip the clothes from his body, but he didn’t. He simply looked deeply into her eyes and replied.

“No.”

Things weren’t going the way she wanted or expected and she tried to sit up again, tried to gain control of things again, but again she was faced with Donovan’s implacable denial and the insistent hand on her shoulder pushing her back down on the bed.

“Darcy, I want you to lie on the bed. Don’t sit up. If you sit up, I’m going to leave. Do you understand?” He whispered.

Darcy growled her frustration and grasped handfuls of the bedclothes in her fists, but she knew he was serious and finally, drawing a steadying breath, she answered him.

“I understand.”

If it wasn’t gracious, as least it was clear, and Donovan nodded briefly to indicate his satisfaction. Darcy let out a little breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, half-afraid that Donovan would leave even after she’d acquiesced. Donovan was aware of her fear and comforted her.