Hell for Leather: Black Knights Inc. (11 page)

“What the hell?” she gasped, a hand clutching her throat.

“You okay?” Mac asked, quartering the room like a…well, like a pro, she supposed.

“Of
course
I’m okay.” Although, in all honesty, that was pretty far from the truth.

“We heard a thump,” Ozzie explained, holstering his weapon and bending to shake Fido’s paw. The dog, never having met a stranger and too silly to recognize the danger of four locked-and-loaded men, had wagged himself over to the group, thinking this was all some sort of hugely fun game. He was sitting and offering his front leg in greeting.

“I…” Delilah had to swallow and try again. “I had this crazy idea when I was showering that Uncle Theo called and left a message.” She pointed a finger she was dismayed to note was shaking at the iPhone lying in the middle of the shag carpeting. “When I realized it was all in my head, I got a little…” Hopeless? Infuriated? Dismayed? Frustrated? All of the above? “…disappointed, and I spiked it into the ground.”

“What about that groaning sound that followed?” Mac demanded, having shoved his gun into the small of his back and risen from his fighting stance. He crossed his arms over his chest, the gray of his T-shirt hugging his bulging biceps and pulling up just enough to show the bottom links of the barbed wire tattoos inked there. Now normally, she preferred a man when he was all decked out in a biker jacket. There was just something about the way the leather hung on a guy’s shoulders. But Mac? Well, suffice it to say, she liked
him
just as he was right now. Dressed in nothing but faded jeans and a too-tight T-shirt that accentuated the width of his chest, the slimness of his waist, and the flat expanse of his washboard belly. Yeah, there was just something about the sheer height and breadth of him that…well…it just
did
it for her. Did it for her
every
which
way
.

Which just proved how delusional and exhausted she really was. Because the dead last thing she should be concerning herself with right now was the sorry state of her nonexistent sex life.

Still…they had—she bent to retrieve her phone, pushing the power button and checking the time—about an hour before they were scheduled to start knocking on doors. And there
had
been that look on his face back at BKI headquarters when she’d accidently kissed him smack on the mouth, not to mention the honking big hard-on he’d popped out in the front yard. So maybe…yeah…maybe she
should
be concerning herself with her nonexistent sex life. Maybe that’s just what she needed to keep the helplessness and hopelessness from driving her shithouse crazy for the next hour.

A plan began to take shape…

***

“Delilah?” Mac asked worriedly. She was wearing a strange look. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Huh?” she blinked up at him, her face even more beautiful scrubbed free of makeup, the deep red highlights in her damp auburn hair catching the glow from the lamp and burning like living fire. And then,
Lord
almighty
, there was that T-shirt. He’d swear it was thin enough to blow off in a stiff breeze, and it hugged her curves so lovingly that had she been braless he’d have been tempted to eat his own ammo.

Of course, the swift kick to his libido was about as welcome as a porcupine at a nudist colony, because not only was he
not
changing his mind about getting involved with That Woman—he
wasn’t
—but he also felt like a complete cad for lusting after her when it was obvious she was bone-weary. As his dear ol’ dad had liked to say,
she
looked
like
she’d been chewed up, spit out, and stepped on.

Poor
little
gal…
Which reminded him…

“We heard groaning,” he repeated.

“Oh.” She shook her head, as if she needed the physical inducement to rearrange her thoughts. “That…uh…that was me, too. Just feeling a little beaten down by the…weight of it all, I guess.”

And, yessir,
that
was enough to punch through his tough exterior straight to his soft, gooey center. Taking a deep breath, he gave her the only piece of advice he’d ever found to be one hundred percent true one hundred percent of the time. “Hard times don’t last, darlin’. But hard people do. You gotta hang tough.”

Her throat made a clicking sound when she swallowed. And,
damn
it
all
, he hadn’t meant to make tears spring to her eyes, but that’s just what he’d done.

“I’m…um…I’m going to go make that call to the CIA,” Zoelner said, fleeing the scene. The coward.

“I’m going to…uh…feed the dog again,” Ozzie said, grabbing Fido’s collar and hauling the panting, wagging canine into the hall, proving that he, too, was yellow as mustard.

Mac turned to lift a brow at Steady, wondering what
his
excuse might be. To his utter exasperation, the man didn’t even
attempt
to come up with a justification for his departure. He simply made an
oh, shit
face when he saw Delilah’s over-bright eyes and turned on his heel, escaping into the hall, slick as a whistle, pulling the door out of the sheetrock and closing it behind him.

All
of
’em are worthless as teats on a bull when it comes to a woman’s tears
, Mac inwardly groused. But when he turned back to Delilah, it was to discover the wetness had miraculously vanished from her eyes. And not only that, but she was stalking—yes,
stalking
; it was the only way to describe that slow, rolling gait of hers—toward him.

He instantly went from feeling sorry for her to feeling like a fly about to get stuck in a glue pot…

“What are you doin’?” Mac demanded, attempting to don that inscrutable mask of his, but failing to manage it. For one thing, Delilah could read the wary suspicion in the flash of his narrowed eyes, and she could see the muscles in his jaw jerking, causing that adorable dimple in his chin to twitch.

The sight worked on her like a Tom Hardy nude scene, warming her blood, tickling her womb, and making her realize that one: Mac fully clothed was much hotter than Tom Hardy in his birthday suit—imagine
that,
if you will. And two: She was
right
to do this. Because they’d been circling each other like a couple of heavyweight boxers for way too long, and it was way past time for one of them to throw the first punch and see where the match-up would take them.

Besides, what did she have to lose? The one man in the whole world who loved her just as she was had mysteriously flown the coop. And if he didn’t come back to her alive then she didn’t know—

No. Don’t think about that now.

And, okay, so that was sound advice. Because what would happen later, good or bad, would happen later. There was absolutely
nothing
she could do about that. But she could do something about
this
.

So
make
like
Nike, and “just do it.” Mmm, hmm. Alrighty then…

“What am I doing?” She cocked a brow, hoping it looked as sexy as it felt. It’d been a hell of a long time since she tried to work her feminine wiles, which meant she was rustier than the springs on Charlie Sander’s bed. “I’m finding a way to take my mind off my uncle for the next hour or so,” she told him, lowering her chin so she could stare out at him from under her eyebrows. Was it coming off like she wanted it to? Like a look of pure seduction? Or was it more of the creepy/stalkery type of expression?

In all honesty, it was hard to tell. Especially since the big idiot just stood there. Blinking at her. But then, just when she was about to try another tactic
…bingo
! She’d managed to pull off pure seduction after all, because Mac gulped. Like, she seriously heard an audible
gulp
and saw his Adam’s apple bob in the long, tan column of his throat. If she’d been a cartoon villain, this is the part where she’d rub her hands together and laugh maniacally.

“H-how were you plannin’ to do that?” he managed, uncrossing his arms and glancing behind him like he was considering making a run for it.

She pointed a finger at her face, stopping a mere foot from him. “You know what I’m planning to do. It’s written all over my face.”

“Sex.” Mac said the word like one might say
mucus
—with a bit of a lip-curl. For a brief moment, just one split second, she was taken aback. But then she recognized his act for what it was…

“Yes,
sex
. Or something close to it,” she taunted. “And you can drop the uninterested shtick right now, Mr. McMillan.” That sounded a little like Marilyn Monroe saying
Mr. President
, didn’t it? Yes, it did. And,
booyah!
“I know you want to.”

She lifted a hand, walking her fingers up the breadth of his chest until she could lay her palm over his heart. To her intense satisfaction, the organ was racing at breakneck speed, belying anything he might try to say to contradict her last statement.

Yeah, that’s right. I still got it!
If it wouldn’t have ruined the mood, she’d have pumped a fist.

“Wh-why would you think that?” he asked, blinking rapidly,
breathing
rapidly.

“Because I felt how hard you got when you were lying on top of me.”

“That was just…uh…just the adrenaline.”

“Bullshit.”

He gulped again. “Okay. But you can’t expect me to…just…fall into your trap.”

“What trap is that?” She loved this feeling of power. Loved that, for the first time in nearly eighteen hours, she could push the panic and fear aside and concentrate on something she might
actually
be able to accomplish. Namely, the bedding of one Bryan “Mac” McMillan…

“Cut the crap,” he growled, glancing pointedly at her boobs. “You
know
what trap it is.”

She smiled, making sure the expression was a little sly, like a cat watching a canary. “You see something you like, cowboy?” she murmured, moving toward him, putting him to the shark-bump test. You know the one Great Whites use to see if their prey is weak enough to go without a fight?

It worked just as she’d hoped. The instant her hip touched his, he sucked in a breath, his nostrils flaring. As they stood there, toe-to-toe, heat poured from his big body. It made her realize the air in the room around them was close and cool, but it was his nearness that caused goose bumps to erupt over every inch of her skin. She curled her bare toes into the thick carpet as her nipples furled into tight, deliciously painful buds.

Mac noticed her body’s reaction. Even in the dimly lit room, she saw his pupils dilate. And when he licked his lips, those deceivingly soft lips? Well, it took everything she had not to shimmy up his body like an electric worker shimmies up a pole.

“You think men are led around by their dicks, don’t you?” he asked. “You think all we want is sex.”

“No.” She shrugged, watching him narrowly as she inched just a
tiny
bit closer. “I think men want beer and whiskey, too. Pretzels. Football on Monday nights and—”

“Yeah, I get it.” He nodded jerkily, rubbing a finger down the length of his wonderfully crooked nose. “We’re just a bunch of shallow, two-dimensional creatures, slaves to our most basic desires, and—”

She pressed a finger over his lips. A
zing
of sensation tripped up her spine when his hot breath tickled her skin. “Why are you trying to change the subject?” she asked him. “And why are you fighting this?”

“I’m not fightin’ anything,” he scoffed, but there was a spark of…was that fear in his eyes?

But, why?

And then it occurred to her that she might be going about this all wrong. That maybe the best way to blow through Mac’s thick, prickly barriers wasn’t to come at him sledgehammers out and swinging. He was the standoffish sort and this blatant, in-his-face attack might be doing the opposite of what she intended…frightening him into running screaming in the opposite direction. But, what then? How was she supposed to accomplish her task of turning him into putty in her hands?

And then, as if a blast of divine inspiration was breathed into her, she knew. “You’re not fighting anything?” She lifted a brow, tapping her finger ever so gently above the heavy beat of his heart, nudging his hip subtly. “So, prove it, cowboy. Because, see, here’s the deal. I’ve got this…this
thing
where I can’t stop thinking about you. Thinking about kissing you again on that spectacular mouth of yours.”

“You think my mouth is spectacular?” His chin jerked back.

And how cute was that? The man was unaware of just how absolutely delicious he was in every way, shape, and form.

“I do.” She nodded. “And if you must know, it’s been screwing with my head for about four years now. So, if you’re not up for sex or something close to sex, despite that giant length of wood you slung out there in the front yard,” now his fabulous lips pulled down at the corners, “then at least do me the favor of kissing me. I mean
really
kissing me, full-on tongueage. That way I can get you out of my system.”

There. Deal made. And now the proverbial ball was in Mac’s court…

She worried that maybe she’d read him wrong
again
when he swallowed thickly and took a step back, but then something changed in his eyes. His expression became less…
hunted
—okay, so
that
wasn’t very flattering—and turned a bit more contemplative. Speculative, even.

She held her breath. One second. Two.

“Just the one kiss?” He slid her a sidelong glance. “Then you’ll stop harassin’ me? Stop
propositionin’
me?”

She took offense to the “harassment” part of that, but whatever. Now was not the time to quibble over semantics. “Yes,” she said and hoped she wasn’t struck down by a bolt of lightning on the spot for lying straight through her teeth. “One kiss. That’s all.”

The seconds stretched out again. One. Two. Three…

“Okay,” he finally said.

“Okay?” She slowly puffed the oxygen from her lungs, trying not to smile from ear-to-ear.

“Yes.” He nodded. A swath of dark hair fell across his brow. “Go ahead.” His voice was so wonderfully low and gravelly. “Kiss me.”

“Uh…” She thought the plan had been for
him
to kiss
her
. But again, no time to quibble. “Okay.” She nodded, wondering just how best to do this for maximum effect. And then, apparently, she was still filled with that breath of divine inspiration because she
knew
. She’d
tell
him each step before doing it. Build the tension. So when she
did
finally do it, he’d be so worked up that he’d forget the deal was for one kiss only.
Double
booyah!

“So, first I’m…I’m just going to step into you,” she whispered. “Just press myself up against you.”

“Sounds like,” again with the Adam’s apple bob, “a decent start.”

“And then I’m going to slowly
sssslide
,” she said, drawing out the word, “my arms around your neck.”

“Okay, then.” He nodded jerkily.

“And then I’m going to reach up on my tiptoes and—”

Before she could finish, he grabbed her waist, pulled her to him with such force that her breath caught, and slammed his mouth over the top of hers.

Oh…heavens…

There were those lips, so unexpectedly soft. Though, the pressure he applied was all man. All about the plundering and conquering. All about proving that
he
was now the one in control. Which, truthfully, was fine by her. Because, really, who was she to argue with him about running the show? Especially when he was doing it so well?

She opened her mouth to the slick press of his tongue, moaning at the taste of him. At some point he’d chewed on a stick of spearmint gum and his breath was fresh and delicious.
Talk
about
toes
curling
into
the
carpet
. Then, when his tongue delved and retreated, delved and retreated in languid exploration of her mouth, she forgot all about her toes or the carpet or anything else for that matter, because her muscles turned to liquid. They just dissolved into mush at the onslaught of lust roaring through her veins. She fancied it was only the fortitude of her bones that kept her from sliding horizontal.

Mmm, horizontal…

That sounded pretty good.
Damn
good, as a matter of fact and she got distracted from thoughts of wrestling him back toward the bed because, right then, he did something magical. He softly caught her tongue between his teeth, simultaneously sucking and flicking the tip with his own before once more plunging into her mouth.

Holy
hell, the man can kiss.
Not that she was all that surpri—

Whoa. What?

Just as quickly as the kiss began, it ended. One minute his tongue was rubbing languorously against hers, his big, warm hands spanning her waist, his hard chest cushioning her aching breasts. The next minute he was just…gone. G.O.N.E. Having broken the seal of their lips and taken a step back.

“How was that?” he asked, panting slightly.

“Uhhh.” She coughed, pressing a hand to her spinning head. “Good,” she managed to croak. “It was good.”

“All out of your system?”

She lifted her eyes to his face, gratified to find it flushed with desire. Not even
attempting
to be sly, she let her gaze slide down to his fly. And, sure enough, there it was. Mr. Woody. And, really, who was he trying to kid?

“Out of my system?” she asked incredulously. “Are you insane?”

Without a second thought, she slammed into him, pushing him back until he stumbled over his biker boots. The instant his back hit the wall, she was up on her tiptoes, ravaging his delectable mouth with everything she had.

Now
who’s doing the plundering and conquering, huh?

***

Damned if Mac wasn’t kissing Delilah right back…

He couldn’t believe it. And there was a large part of his brain that was screaming,
What
the
fuck, dude? It was supposed to be one kiss! Just
one
kiss!

Yessir, a large part of his brain was screaming exactly that. Over and over. But the rest of him? Well the
rest
of him was yelling something else entirely. Something that started with “oh” and ended with “yeah” and had a “hell” thrown in somewhere in the middle.

Which could mean only one thing. He was dumber than dirt. Dumber than a barrel of hair. If brains were leather, his wouldn’t be able to saddle a flea…

Shit.
And he
knew
there was a reason this was all so
very
dangerous. He
knew
there was something he should be remembering right now. Something important. But the way she was moving against him made it impossible to latch onto a single thought. She was so sinuous, so…
goddamned
sexy
. Like a cat. Like a cat with
boobs
. Great, glorious, gorgeous boobs—excuse the alliteration. But
damn
. He could wax poetic about those things for hours on end, compose sonnets to their majesty, write plays exalting their grandeur and—

“Mac,” she breathed against his lips, pressing her hips into him softly, suggestively. And when she felt the steely length of his erection pounding against the metal teeth of his zipper, like a honeymooning couple in Texas, she took things over-the-border, thrusting her pelvis forward to rub against him in the most mind-numbing way.