Honest illusions(BookZZ.org) (34 page)

She dangled them, making the audience howl with laughter as Luke opened his eyes wide and patted his pockets.

“Pretty slick, Roxanne.”

“I’ve got plenty of tricks up my sleeves. Assume the position, Callahan.”

The music bounced out again as he offered his wrists. With big, exaggerated moves, Roxanne clamped the cuffs, locked them and pulled out a chain to wrap around his hands for good measure. She then turned the trunk in a circle, opening the lid so everyone could see it had four sides and a bottom. Luke climbed in and, taking advantage of his imprisoned hands, she bent to give him a hard kiss.

“For luck.” Then she shoved his head down and lowered the top. She fastened the bolts, taking a key

from her pocket to lock each one. Using a four-sided white curtain, she stood on the lid, letting the material drop until it had covered everything from her chin down.

“On the count of three,” she called out. “One. Two.”

Her head disappeared and Luke’s popped up. “Three.”

The audience erupted with applause, continuing to thunder it out after Luke dropped the curtain. He wore a white tux now, spangled with silver. He took his bow with a flourish before glancing absently over his shoulder. Banging sounded from inside the box.

“Whoops. Forgot something.” He snapped his fingers and revealed a key. After using it to unlock the trunk, he pushed the bolts back and threw up the lid.

“Cute, Callahan. Real cute.”

He only grinned, reaching down and lifting Roxanne out of the trunk into his arms. She, too, wore a white tuxedo, and now her hands were cuffed and chained. He took a final bow with her in his arms, then carried her offstage.

“Got it?” he murmured.

“Almost. Now.”

He turned back toward the applause. He still carried her, only now her hands were free and his were cuffed.

“You could have been a couple seconds faster,” he complained when he set her down in front of her dressing room. “You were a beat behind all during the sleight of hand.”

“No, you were a beat ahead.” She smiled because she’d felt how hard his heart had been thumping when he’d carried her offstage. “Want to fight, Callahan?”

“No. Just work on your damn timing.”

“I’ve got it down,” she murmured when he turned away.

She certainly hoped she did. God knew she was nervous as a cat, but it was now or never. For the fifth time, she checked out her appearance in the mirror. Her hair was artfully tousled, her face just touched with the most subtle of cosmetics. The long robe of ivory silk clung lovingly to each curve. She spritzed some scent into the air, then walked through the cloud of fragrance. With her mind made up, she kept walking out her cabin door, down the passageway and across the hall to Luke’s.

He’d stripped down to gray sweatpants and was trying to ease his mind toward sleep by working out the bugs in a new escape.

He only grunted when he heard the knock on the door. His absent glance up as the door opened turned into a gape when he saw Roxanne.

“What? What? Is something wrong?”

“I don’t think so.” She leaned back against the door. It wasn’t a provocative move as much as one designed to give her legs a chance to stop shaking. She turned the lock. “I’m working on my timing,” she said as she crossed the room. He rose, braced to ward her off. She had only to lay her palm against the bare skin of his chest to break through the guard and make him quiver.

“You were right.” She spread her fingers wide over the thud of his heart. The sensation made her bold, reckless, needy. “About my timing? This is something I should have moved on a long time ago.”

He could feel his nerves grind and scream like crashing gears. She smelled like sin. “I’m busy, Roxanne, and it’s too late for riddles.”

“You already have the answer to this one.” With a low, careless laugh, she skimmed her hands up his chest to his shoulders. The muscles there were bunched tight. “What do you get when you put a man and a woman together alone, at night, in a small room?”

“I said—” But she moved quickly, and covered his mouth with hers. There was little he could do about the response that leaped into his system, the way a tiger leaps through the open doors of a cage. But he could keep it from going any further. He prayed to God he could.

“There.” She brushed her lips over his once, twice, before drawing back just enough to smile into his eyes. “I knew you had the answer.”

It cost him dearly, but he let his hands fall away and sidestepped. “Game’s over. Now get lost. I’ve got work to do.”

The hurt snuck through, fast as a stiletto, and pierced. Okay, she thought, she might bleed, but she wasn’t backing down without a fight. She was at the seduction stage of Dori’s advice. Damned if she’d let him see how terrified she was.

“That didn’t work very well when I was twelve.” She stepped closer, out of the light, into the shadows, effectively maneuvering him into the corner. “It doesn’t work at all now. You watch me.” The curve of her lips was witchlike, powerful in its confidence. She stepped closer yet so that his hands shot out to take her arms and prevent her body from brushing dangerously against his. “I can feel you watch me when I’m across a room. I can almost hear what you’re thinking when you do.” Her eyes were like dark, deep seas, and he was already drowning. When she spoke, her voice misted over him like fog. “You wonder what it would be like between us.” She cupped a hand on his chin, trailing those long fingers down his jaw. Everything he felt, everything he wanted, careened from his brain to thunder in the blood.

“So do I. You wonder what it would feel like to have me, to do all those secret things you’ve wanted to do. And so do I.”

He had to fight every breath into his lungs. Each gulp he took carried the scent of her into his system until he thought he’d explode. If this was seduction, he’d never experienced it before, never imagined she could wrap the hot chains of it so expertly around him. Trapped, was all he could think. He was trapped in a cage of unspeakable needs and the only door out was his own draining will.

The lamplight shimmered in her hair. Before he could think, he’d lifted a hand and had taken a fistful of flame.

“You don’t know what I want to do. If you did, you’d run screaming.”

Her body leaned forward with a longing much stronger than fear. “I’m not running. I’m not afraid.”

“You haven’t the sense to be.” But he did. He released her hair and shoved her away in one jerky movement. “I’m not one of your trusty college boys, Rox. I wouldn’t be polite and make promises and tell you what you think you want to hear. I’ve got where I came from inside me, and it’s staying there, whatever shows on the outside.” She saw a flare in his eyes—self-disgust, regret, anger—she couldn’t be sure. Then it was gone. “So be a good girl and run along.”

She felt the prickle of tears at the back of her throat, but her head remained high, her eyes dry. “I’ve never been a good girl. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He sighed. There was such amused exasperation in it, she winced. “Roxy, you’re putting me in the position where I have to hurt your feelings.” With legs that felt like brittle glass, he walked over and patted her head. A slap, he knew, would have been less insulting. “I know you worked yourself up to try out this big seduction scene. And I’m flattered, really, that you’ve got this crush on me.”

“Crush?” she managed when she found her voice. He could see by the daggers in her eyes he’d pressed the right button.

“It’s sweet, and I appreciate it, but I’m just not interested. You’re not my type, babe.” He leaned casually against the dresser. “You’re pretty, and I’m not going to pretend that I haven’t had a couple of interesting fantasies over the years when you’ve been costar, but let’s get real.”

“You . . .” The stab of rejection nearly brought her to her knees. “You’re saying you don’t want me.”

“That’s as clear as it gets.” He plucked a cigar off the dresser. “I don’t want you, Roxanne.”

She would have believed him. His voice was so mild, so insultingly apologetic and understanding. There was a light of amusement in his eyes that sliced like a blade and the faintest of smiles on his lips. She would have believed him. But she saw that his hands were clenched into fists so tight the knuckles were white. He’d already mangled the cigar.

She kept her eyes cast down a moment, knowing she needed that long to put out the gleam of triumph in them. “Well, all right, Luke. I’ll only ask one thing.”

He took one measured breath, tasted relief. “Don’t worry, Rox, I won’t mention this to anyone.”

“That’s not it.” She brought her head up and the staggering power of her beauty wiped the easy smile off his face. “The one thing I have to ask you is—prove it.”

She reached up and untied the belt at her waist.

“Stop it.” He dropped the crushed cigar and backed up. “Christ, Roxanne, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Just showing you what you claim not to want.” Watching him, she rolled her shoulders and sent the ivory silk slithering to the floor. There was more silk beneath it, a thin chemise of that same soft ivory, trimmed in lace. While he tried to catch his breath, one slender strap slipped seductively from her shoulder. “If you’re telling the truth, it shouldn’t be any problem. Should it?”

“Get dressed.” His voice had thickened like a drunk’s. “Get out. Don’t you have any pride?”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of that.” And it swelled as she saw the helpless desire in his eyes. “What I seem to be lacking at the moment is shame.” The silk whispered against her flesh as she walked to him. “At the moment,” she murmured, winding her arms around his neck, “I don’t seem to have an ounce of shame.”

Tilting her head she nipped at his bottom lip. His groan had her letting loose one low laugh. “Tell me again you’re not interested.” Her lips parted, full of demands against his. “Tell me again.”

“Damn you, Rox.” His hands were in her hair again, fisted. “Is that what you want?” He swung her around so that she rammed into the dresser as his mouth plundered hers. “You want to see what I can do to you, what I can make you do?” The part of him that still hoped to survive grasped on to heartlessness to push her away. “You want to be used up and tossed aside?”

She threw her head back. “Try it.”

He cursed her, he berated them both, every time he dragged his mouth from hers. The war raged in him even as he pulled her to the bed and tumbled onto the mattress with her. Without care, without compassion, he took his hands over her, ripping the silk, bruising flesh, hating himself for the thrill of excitement that wracked him each time she whimpered or moaned.

He’d send them both to hell, he thought. But, by God, they’d take a fast, hot ride through heaven first.

Through a maze of needs and fears she recognized his anger. And his greed. He’d lied, she thought, crying out when his mouth closed hungrily over her breast.

Oh, how he’d lied.

She twined her fingers through his hair and shuddered. This was truth, this desperate, clawing chaos of sensation was truth. All the rest was illusion, pretense, deception.

He was breathless when he lifted his head to stare at her. Breathless and beaten. But somehow the anger had vanished, like a conjurer in a puff of smoke.

Beneath him her body was vibrating, like a finely tuned engine revving to race. He could drive her, that he understood, but he was afraid, horribly afraid that he would lose control until they crashed and burned.

Knowing he was lost, he lowered his forehead to hers. “Oh, Rox,” he murmured and stroked his fingers gently over her shoulders.

With no hesitation she wrapped her arms around him. “Listen to me, Callahan, if you stop now, I’ll have to kill you.”

The laugh was a relief, though it didn’t begin to ease the tension balled in his gut. “Roxy, the only way I could stop now is if I were already dead.” He lifted his head. She recognized the concentration on his face, the same as she’d seen dozens of times as he prepared for a complicated illusion or a dangerous escape. “We crossed the line, Roxanne. I can’t let you go tonight.”

Her smile bloomed slowly. “Thank God.”

He shook his head. “You’d do better to pray,” he warned her, and lowered his mouth to hers.

19

At last. It was the final coherent thought that passed through Roxanne’s mind as Luke’s mouth fixed hot and open on hers. At long last.

Another woman might have wanted soft words, slow hands, gentle persuasion. She had no need for that now. Every wish she’d ever held close, every fantasy she’d ever woven in secret was granted by the wild, willful demands of his hands and lips.

She gave him the most coveted and elusive gift a woman can grant a man. Complete surrender.

That was her power, and her triumph.

Needs that had budded slyly inside her flashed into full bloom. Fears tangled with them, creating an ache so fierce she shook from it. She hadn’t known, not even in her most secret imaginings had she known it was possible to feel like this.

Helpless and strong. Dizzy and sane.

She laughed again, from the sheer glory of it, that reckless, rushing roller coaster ride, speeding uphill, plunging down whippy turns, flashing through dark, dark tunnels of secret desires. She clung, not for support, but to be sure, very sure, he joined her in that same thrilling race.

Every sigh, every gasp intensified his greed. It was Roxanne beneath him, her slim, agile body trembling at his touch, her eager mouth meeting his, her scent crowding reason from his brain.

He didn’t need to think—no longer had the faculties to think. Later he would remember Max talking of the animal taking over. But for now, Luke was no more than that, taking what his body so violently craved.

The light still burned brightly, far from loverlike. The spread they’d neglected to turn down was stiff and nubby against flesh. The narrow bed swayed with the roll of the ship. But she arched against him and there was nothing but her, and what she so recklessly offered.

He wanted more, needed more, and tore the tattered remains of her chemise aside to find all of her.

Impatient, urgent, his hand streaked down and found her already hot and wet and waiting. With one rough stroke he drove her hard to a first towering climax.