Face to Face (29 page)

He stiffened. Spanos hadn't hurt him. A few lucky punches, that was all. 

"Should've seen the other guy," he muttered. Damn, if only he hadn't had so much to drink, started the fight with Spanos, she might not have been angry with him and they might've been together last night, he might have been able to save her house. Instead of being trapped in an interrogation room half way across the city while she lost everything. While he almost lost her.

His breath tore through him in a ragged gasp and he pulled her to him once more. "Christ, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

She held him for a few minutes while he pretended that those weren't really tears burning his eyes. She smelled of smoke, felt hot, as if the fire she had escaped still smoldered inside her. Her arms wrapped around his chest, softly stroking his pain away. Finally he could breathe again, his anger banished until he could confront the person responsible for all this. Then nothing would stop him.

He stepped back. He relaxed his death grip on her shoulders and gave her space. She looked up at him and he saw the remnants of tears on her cheeks. But she was smiling. 

"There are three things I want," she said.

Ahh, he knew that devilish smile, could guess what one of those things was. "Three?"

"You smell. I want you to take a shower."

"No problem." He tugged her shirt over her head. "If you join me." 

She returned the favor by shimmying out of her shorts, standing naked before him. One of the things he loved about her. She was never inhibited about nudity, in fact somehow she seemed to appear more regal naked than when cloaked by clothing. Even now, with her disheveled hair and ravaged skin. 

"The second thing?"

Her fingers tugged the belt from his pants, then feathered their way down, teasing him. Her smile widened as he sucked in his breath. "No condoms. Nothing between us anymore. You've paid enough for Pamela. We aren't going to let her come between us again."

She removed her hand, looked up at him, waiting his answer. He closed his eyes for a second, searching for any remnants of Pamela's ghost. And found none. He gazed down at her, brushed a kiss against her forehead, relishing the sense of freedom that filled him. "Done. And the last?"

She sighed, giving him the shy and wistful look of a child. "Would you hold me tonight? I know it's crazy, but I can't sleep without you...."

Good God, had things deteriorated so far that she had to ask? He yearned to give her such simple comfort, the thought of cradling her to sleep was more arousing than any erotic images of the sex that might come before. 

He raised her hand to his lips. "Your wish is my command."

<><><>

Drake kept the water temperature lukewarm. Worried about her burns, no doubt. His concern both touched and irritated Cassie and she realized she was still upset about what happened Saturday night. If he hadn't been such a jerk, getting drunk at the first sign of trouble...

Reaching a hand past Drake's glistening body, she cranked the temperature up higher. It stung against her tender skin, but somehow the pain felt good. A reminder that despite everything, she was still alive.

She had to admit it, she was angry at herself for not recognizing his deteriorating moods were because of Pamela. She'd purposely not researched the issue, too painful to think about, but that denial left her in the dark. Stupid. If she'd at least found out the date, maybe she could have stopped all of this, whisked him away from here before things got this far.

"It wouldn't have done any good," she said, her words echoing in time with the water as his fingers massaged shampoo ever so gently over her sore scalp. 

He paused for a moment, shielding her eyes with one hand as he tilted her face up with the other.

"Even if you'd known Monica was Pamela's sister," she continued, "even if I'd left with you Friday night, even if you'd been with me last night—it wouldn't have done any good."

He frowned at her words then eased her eyes closed as he rinsed her hair. "Why do you say that?"

"Because it's not you they're after—whoever they are," she told him, the realization making her gut clench. "It's me."

She felt his body stiffen against hers. His fingers stroked down her hair, then along her cheekbones, over her shoulders, drawing her close for a long moment. 

"But you already figured that out, didn't you?" She drew back from his warm comfort, gave him a searching stare. 

That was Drake, so much better at seeing the big picture than she was. She was always too busy rushing in to act on a problem, to solve things before they escalated. Another reason why they needed to stay together. Why she'd been so very wrong to send him away earlier tonight. "That's why you followed me here."

He nodded. "Too many coincidences: the Brickner trial, the stalking, even your malpractice case. Everything designed to separate us. At first I thought it was to target me, thought staying away was for the best, a way to keep you safe."

"But all it did was keep us from seeing there's a puppet master out there, orchestrating all of this for his own private amusement."

He lifted a handful of charred hair, his eyes darkening with anger. "I'm not finding any of this funny."

She shivered at the tone of his voice. Drake pivoted so she could share more of the warmth of the water and reached for conditioner, turning her so she couldn't see his expression. But she felt his fury in the tension of his fingers, the way he held his body rigid as if expecting an attack. 

He was intent on placing himself between her and danger. Damn it, wasn't that what had gotten them into this in the first place?

"I'm sorry about earlier," she said. "In the garden."

"Wrong time, wrong place." His voice was light, but his fingers hitched in their rhythm. 

He rinsed the conditioner from her hair, and she turned back to him. His fingers kept stroking her hair as if he couldn't bear the idea of not touching her.

"That was part of it. But I can't stand you thinking I need you to protect me. That I can't take care of myself."

His brow furrowed in irritation. He dropped his hands, spread them wide as if to emphasize how poorly she'd done taking care of herself.

Cassie stood her ground. She hadn't done so bad. She was still alive and ready to kick butt, wasn't she? Or at least she would be after a good night's rest. 

"Drake, either we're in this together or—"

"Or what?" he demanded, ignoring the stream of water sluicing down into his face as he leaned forward. "I love you. It's my job to protect you, to keep you safe."

She shook her head. Couldn't he see? That's exactly what Richard had promised her, how he had seduced her to relinquish control. Drake wasn't Richard, but she still couldn't enter a relationship based on his need to place himself between her and the dangers of the world beyond.

"That's not love, that's a bodyguard," she snapped. 

His hands returned to her shoulders, holding her in place as his mouth ravished hers. He plunged into the kiss, leaving her breathless, yearning for more. A small sound caught in her throat, and she circled her leg around his, arching her pelvis closer to his.

"Would a bodyguard know how to do this?" he growled, his voice low and throaty. His sexy voice, rough as gravel and capable of arousing her with a mere whisper. 

He abandoned her mouth, left her gasping. His lips trailed down her exposed throat to capture her breast. Once more a wave of pleasure swamped her, leaving her trembling in his grasp. He pivoted them both so that her back was to the wall. She dug her fingers into the strong muscles of his arms, urging him to not stop, never stop. His hand slid down to her hip, then moved between her legs, knowing exactly where to touch her to bring her to instant climax.

Cassie banged her head against the tile as she arched back and cried out. She eased her leg higher, stroking against the back of his in encouragement. But he stopped. She looked up. His eyes were narrowed in concern. 

"What's wrong?"

"We can't," he said, leaning away from her. "I don't want to hurt you."

"That's what I'm talking about. I'm not a baby. I know what I'm doing. And I accept the consequences of my actions." She feathered her hand down his chest, stroked his erection until it was his turn to utter a moan. "All of my actions."

He inched closer, but not close enough. She hooked her ankle behind his once more and pulled him to her, her flesh skimming, taunting his. She rubbed her pelvis against him until a small, feral noise escaped from his clenched jaws. They were both breathing hard, saying nothing as their gazes locked. She felt him against her belly and wanted him inside her, now. She needed to feel him. To feel alive. Was desperate for him to touch that place that only he could find, the place where she was free and safe and beyond the reach of the ordinary world.

Wanted what only Drake could give her.

Her fingers slid around to the small of his back to tantalize him. She watched as his eyes darkened. He arched back, signaling his surrender. With a primal grunt, he planted his feet, raised her up and entered her.

She fisted her fingers in his hair, tugging as he cupped her buttocks in his large, capable hands. Her back slid against the soap slicked tiles as he thrust into her, each stroke sending a fresh wave of heat and fire through her. His head fell forward, his lips parting in an animal snarl of excitement. One hand left her to brace against the wall as her lips closed over his.

They moved together. Their passion rose, cresting beyond anything Cassie had ever before imagined. Mutual need and animal desire drove them on until she could no longer separate any of her senses, all five mingling in an explosion of water tasting of vanilla and salty sweat, smelling of musk and sex and lavender, the pounding of their mingled pulses driving through her brain as her entire universe contracted to the sight of his eyes searching her soul.

She held on, her grip bruising as he thrust inside of her, pushing her over the brink into a world that existed solely for the two of them. She cried out his name, the water mingling with her tears as he filled her, completed her. 

Finally the laws of physics and biology forced them into a thundering final climax that left them both shaking. Cassie lowered her feet back to the ground and sank against the stolid wall of tile. Drake stood, both arms braced against the wall, trembling.

"Jesus, Hart," he whispered, his head collapsing onto her shoulder. "What you do to me."

He let out a deep, satisfied sigh. She wanted to tell him that the feeling was mutual but was too exhausted to force the words out. Instead she clung to him, her body pressed against his, vibrating in harmony, the aftershocks of pleasure still rippling through her.

He turned his head to face her. "If we're done arguing, can we go to bed now?" 

"Yes," was all she had the strength to say. 

Yes to everything, to whatever he wanted. He could have all of her. He already did, she realized with dismay tainted by a small undercurrent of joy. This was dangerous territory. She needed to tread lightly.

Something impossible for her to do whenever Drake was around.

CHAPTER 33

There was something primal and erotic about having a woman trust you enough to sleep within your arms, Drake thought. More than erotic. Soul-stirring. Knowing how hard it was for Hart to trust at all, to give up any control, it made him feel powerful, a better man. He remembered what she'd said earlier, about not being able to sleep without him and wondered if she had any idea the same was true for him.

Finally, Drake allowed his exhaustion to overtake him and fell into the realms of a deep sleep free from nightmares for the first time in a week. Instead he dreamed of Hart. Dreamed of saving her, of being strong enough to banish her fears—past, present and future. Dreamed of the ways she would reward him, with her body, with her love.

When he woke, bright sunshine streamed through the small slit in the curtains. Hart nestled against him, curled into him, one hand fisted at his chest, one leg flung over his. There was nothing more in this world that he wanted than to wake every day for the rest of his life like this.

The clock on the bedside table read 12:22. The growling emanating from Hart's stomach confirmed the time. She never skipped breakfast. He drew his breath in, trying not to laugh. Amazing how good sex—hell, great sex—and fourteen hours of sleep could revive a man, change his outlook.

He felt Hart's breathing change its rhythm, felt her slowly ease into wakefulness. He feathered his fingers down her back, loving the way shivers raced over her muscles as if his touch brought them to life. Her fingers stroked his chest, quickly followed by her lips against his nipple. A teasing bite that only increased his arousal.

She opened her eyes, looked up at him with wicked intentions as her hips met his. He watched the familiar crimson flush climb from her neck into her face, saw her eyes widen with pleasure.

A soft mewing sound vibrated from her and into him as he fought to keep control. Cascades of color shimmered in his vision. Every breath was filled with the scent of springtime rain, of damp earth, cleansing air, bright sunshine. 

She arched her neck back, and Drake felt her go over the edge. He rolled her onto her back, her legs circled around his waist. Finally he could hold on no longer, and followed her, his vision exploding in a cascade of light as the climax engulfed him.

He collapsed into her arms. They had had sex numerous times over the past week. But nothing compared to the exquisite ecstasy of this, of making love.

They lay there for several long, quiet moments until the rumbling in Hart's stomach became insistent. With a laugh, he rolled off her.

"Time to get up," he said.

She closed her eyes. "I just want to lay here, to feel like this, forever."

Another grumble from her stomach betrayed her. She blew her breath out, opened her eyes. "I can't imagine a better way to wake up."

Knowing Hart was not a morning person, he accepted the compliment. He traced a finger around her breast. "If we were married, we could wake like that every day."