Fangs But No Fangs (17 page)

She spun the combination lock on the safe, tested the handle to be sure it was secure, then stood. She listened for a moment, but heard nothing aside from the steady drumming of the rain on the roof, and another clap of thunder.

Reluctantly, she walked to the doorway. She was annoyed with herself that she was nervous. Christian should not make her nervous. He shouldn't make her feel anything. All she had to do was go out there and tell him she was ready to leave. She didn't even need to make small talk. Just, ready? Let's go.

The lights were already turned down when she entered the bar, and she didn't see him right away. Then she spotted him, sitting in a chair at one of the tables. His head rested in his hands as though he was upset or had a terrible headache.

"Christian?" she said, unable to keep the concern out her voice, despite her earlier irritation with him.

His head popped up and he gazed at her, a hopeless look haunting his eyes.

"What is it?" she asked, stepping farther into the room.

He stood, the simple movement amazingly graceful. He didn't speak.

"Are you feeling unwell again?" she asked.

He shook his head, still not moving, still not speaking.

Honestly. Did this man ever make it through a night without some incredibly weird behavior pattern?

"You know what?" she finally said. "I'm beat. I'm hot, and I need a shower. I need to eat. Then I need to sleep."

He nodded, and for a moment she thought he was going to agree and follow her. But again, he just stood there.

"All-righty then." She started back into her office to gather her things, and then she was leaving. Even if she had to walk. She didn't care about that look on his face. She didn't care about why he'd acted the way he had tonight. She just wanted to go home.

Lightning flashed, then the thunder boomed as if to tell her that walking was a bad idea. She ignored the warning. Then, from behind her, Christian spoke, and she couldn't ignore that.

"You sang beautifully tonight. I found you captivating. All the men did."

In the doorway, she slowly faced him. What? Why was he telling her this? Was toying with her becoming a game to the man?

Argh! She felt like screaming. Why was he doing this? And why did her body react, her heart doing a little jump at his compliment. But thankfully, she didn't show him her reaction. Instead she mumbled, "Thank you."

She made a move to go into her office, and again he spoke, stopping her.

"I can't seem to stop wanting you."

She marveled at the offhand way he said things like that. How did he do it? Act like this was just how it was, oh, and he'd taken out the trash, too.

"Well, as I think I told you before, try."

This time she did stride into her office, getting her tote bag and her keys. She started for the door, her only thought to leave, when she realized she had to lock the door after him. But before she could go back and demand he leave, he appeared in the doorway, his tall, muscular form silhouetted against the faint light in the barroom.

She gestured to the door. "I need to lock up."

To her surprise, he crossed the room and stepped out into the damp night. The rain fell lighter now, just a little heavier than sprinkles.

She found her key, then followed him outside. The cool rain felt good on her warm, sticky skin. As good as the rain felt, it was going to be a long walk home in the dark wetness. Another bolt of lightning streaked across the blue-black sky, promising a bigger storm to come. She would be wise to just bear his presence a few more minutes and catch a ride with him. Then she could finally be alone, where she'd likely still obsess about this man. But at least she could do so in private.

She'd just reached Christian's car when he caught her wrist, tugging her to a stop. "Jolee, I think we should talk."

She frowned at him. "About what?"

"About us."

She laughed, the sound humorless. "There is no us."

"I think there is."

She stared at him, shadows playing across his perfect features, his pale eyes vivid even in the dim light.

"I'm really starting to believe you are crazy."

"Me, too," he agreed.

His hand came up to caress her cheek, his fingers gentle and reverent over her damp skin. His eyes held hers, so intense they seemed to glow. Lightning lit the sky again, creating new shadows on his striking face, intensifying the brilliance of his gaze, adding to the strangeness of the moment.

"Why are you doing this, Christian?" she asked softly, not wanting to react to his touch, but quivering inside despite her effort.

"I can't control myself. Not when it comes to you."

His head lowered, and she knew she had to stop him. She had to stop this insanity now. But his lips found hers, cool and moist from the rain. They moved over hers, tasting the rain on her. Again she was hit by the sweetness, the perfection of his touch. She responded despite herself, slanting her lips to meet his. He pulled her closer, deepening the kiss.

Thunder clapped loudly, and with the harsh noise, reality returned. She pulled away and he let her go, his arms falling loosely to his sides.

"Why are you doing this?" She knew she sounded frantic, but she was, so why hide it? This had to stop before she did something she regretted. Before she got hurt.

"I told you straight out that I don't have any interest in a fling. Go back to your throngs of admirers. I'm sure you'll find one who wants you. Sexually."

"I'm sure I would, too," he agreed easily, which made her want to scream. How was she attracted to this conceited, socially inept, domineering—

"I wanted to be attracted to one of them," he stated.

She shook her head, unable to believe he was doing it again. Being so… clueless.

"I do not want to hear about your problems finding the perfect one-night stand."

He frowned. "I never intended to have a one-night stand with any of them. I just wanted to prove to myself that I could be attracted to someone other than you."

He swiped a hand through his damp hair. "But I wasn't. The whole night I only thought of you. Wanted you."

The words shouldn't have brought her joy. After all, what did they really mean? But they did. She was obviously going mad right along with him.

She tried to remain sensible, even though all she could seem to center on were his hungry eyes, the cling of his damp shirt to the muscles of his shoulders and his chest. The lingering heat of his kiss on her lips.

"I–I don't understand what you want from me, Christian."

"I want to be with you. You're the first thing I think of when I awaken. You're the last thing I think of before I sleep. I've tried to stay away from you. God knows, I have. But I can't do it. Your smile. Your sweetness. Everything about you keeps drawing me back."

Her insides quaked. No one had ever said anything like that to her before. But could she trust he wasn't just giving her a line? Men knew the right things to say. They knew how to manipulate a woman into doing what they wanted.

"Jolee, say something." His voice was uncertain, none of the self-assurance from earlier laced through the words.

"So what do you want? What can you give?" She needed to hear exactly what he thought the rules of the relationship would be. He shook his head, looking oddly forlorn, like a bewildered child who didn't know the answer, but knew it was very important.

"I don't have a clue how to be a… boyfriend, but that is what I will try to be." Again he looked miserable. "Jolee, I just want you."

She studied him, trying to ignore the thundering beat of her heart. He looked truly wretched, as if he didn't believe he could convince her of his sincerity. Finally, he looked away from her, his defeated expression telling her he truly believed he'd lost. That more than anything convinced her. She had to take a chance. She understood how he felt; she couldn't seem to stay away from him either. She didn't want to.

She caught his face, gently turning him to look at her. Her fingers shook as she stroked his wet cheek.

"I want you, too," she whispered. She did want him, more than she'd even let herself believe.

"I just don't know… " She shook her head. "I just don't know if I can trust you. I'm scared."

He caught her hand, holding her fingers. "I'm scared, too."

"Have you been hurt?"

He didn't answer for a moment, then he murmured, "Yes. Yes, I've been hurt."

He closed his eyes, and she got the feeling his admission made him feel weak. Like he didn't want to remember it.

She stroked his cheek, amazed at the smoothness of his skin. To her surprise, he nuzzled his cheek against her open palm as if he was desperate for her touch, for her compassion.

She stepped closer, holding his face between her hands. He opened his eyes, staring into hers. She saw desire in their depths, along with pain and uncertainty. All the same emotions that were in conflict inside herself. Slowly, she lifted her head to kiss him. She didn't want to feel the pain and uncertainty. She only wanted the desire. The closeness that desire could give them.

At first he remained motionless in her arms, and she simply caressed him with her lips, loving the moist softness of his lips in contrast with the strong line of his jaw under her fingertips. Thunder crashed above them, but unlike last time, neither one of them broke the kiss. Instead Christian's arms came around her, pulling her tight against his chest. One hand cupped the back of her head, while the other splayed across the middle of her back.

He took control of the embrace, his lips sculpting to hers, powerful, sensual. His teeth nibbled her bottom lip, and she moaned, finding the tiny nips infinitely erotic. Hot and raspy, his tongue traced the seam of her lips and she opened for him, her tongue mingling with his as they tasted each other's moisture and heat. She moaned again. His kiss grew more passionate, more intense. An all-consuming embrace that promised nothing but more pleasure. Like he would tenderly devour her whole, and she'd never feel anything but absolute delight.

She moved her hands from his face, sinking one in his hair, the wet strands clinging to her fingers. The other hand gripped his shoulder, muscles rippling under her fingers as his mouth continued to consume her. Before she even realized it, Christian had walked her backward, her bottom hitting the cold, rain-drenched hood of his car. She jumped, a surprised noise vibrating in the back of her throat as the cold, wet metal touched the backs of her bare legs.

Christian broke the kiss, staring at her, disoriented, concern shadowing his eyes. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," she assured him with a dazed grin of her own. She brushed a hand on the top of his car. "Cold."

He started to step away from her, but she caught his shirt and pulled him back. A faint voice in the back of her mind told her this was going too fast. They needed to get to know each other better. They needed dates and chances to talk. They were out in the rain, for heaven's sake! Then his lips returned to hers, and she was no longer listening.

His pelvis pinioned her against the car, his chest pressed tight against hers. The friction of their bodies created a burning heat that overshadowed any coldness. All she could feel was Christian. And nothing had ever felt better.

His fingers glided slowly down her sides, exploring each rise and indentation of her ribs through her shirt, until those huge hands spanned her hips, holding her firmly. Then, without his lips leaving hers, he lifted her and set her on the hood of the car. His hips slid between her legs, keeping her from slipping down over the slick surface. She didn't pause at the sudden shift. She just allowed her hips to cradle him, the rub of him so intimate against her, so excruciatingly thrilling.

His hands found the hem of her shirt and slipped underneath, long, strong fingers stroking over her skin until they reached her breasts.

He lifted his head, gazing at her intently as if waiting for her to tell him it was all right for him to continue. Her breasts ached. Her nipples strained, swollen and taut against her bra, begging for his touch. She didn't even consider telling him no. Instead she guided his hands upward, gasping as his palms cupped the sensitive flesh.

He rasped his thumbs over and around her hardened nipples, pleasure swirling through her with each pass, each twirl.

"Oh my God, Christian," she whimpered, arching against him as he squeezed her, teasing the oversensitized buds.

He frowned as if he wasn't sure if her cry was one of pleasure. "Is that good?"

She nodded adamantly. How could this man not know that he was driving her mad? She wiggled against him, her body wanting more. More of his touch. More of him.

"I want to see you," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "I want to see the paleness of your skin. I want to know what color your nipples are. How they taste."

Her breath hitched in her throat at his words. God, she wanted that, too. She was on the hood of a car, in the parking lot of her bar, in the rain— and all she could think about was his beautiful mouth on her bare skin.

"Yes," she said, agreeing to anything he wanted to do to her.

Christian had no idea what he was doing. He was acting totally on instinct. And every instinct in his body told him he had to touch this woman. With his hands. With his mouth. He had to explore every inch of her.

He watched her, not wanting to do anything that didn't please her, and he saw only desire darkening her coffee-colored eyes. Rain clung to her lashes, to her lips. He leaned forward and licked the drops from her lush skin.

She whimpered, her legs squeezing his hips.

He groaned, too, his erection throbbing against her. This was madness, he knew it, but he couldn't stop.

He carefully peeled Jolee's T-shirt up over her head, dropping the wet garment onto the hood of his car next to her.