Kiss Me Katie! & Hug Me Holly! (21 page)

“You were speeding. You were exhibiting reckless driving with that peel out you did at the light.” He peered into the Jeep, his gaze lighting on the ice cream, still resting between her thighs.

Even in the dark, she could see his eyes go hot, hot enough to practically melt the dessert. “You were eating and driving.”

“Not illegal,” she said.

“It is if you're not paying attention. Step out of the Jeep, please.”

“What?”

He didn't wait for her, but opened the door, unbuckled her seat belt and evacuated her without further ado. He pocketed her keys, slung her purse over his shoulder, locked her car and took her by the arm.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking you in.”

“What? Riley, stop this—”

His hands were gentle, but so firm she couldn't
break away. He settled her into his patrol car, even hooked up her seat belt. The backs of his fingers brushed against her breasts.

She sucked in a breath as her nipples hardened.

He went utterly still, staring down at her. Then he slammed the door and without another word, walked around and got into the driver's seat.

“This is ridiculous,” she said shakily. “Where are we going?”

“I told you. I'm taking you in.”

“All I did was rev the engine.”

“You were speeding.”

“Not exactly a federal offense.”

His jaw was tight, he stared straight ahead. He hadn't shaved and no way had his hair seen a comb. His arms were tense, so much so that she could see his every muscle delineated beneath his clothing. “Riley—”

“You really shouldn't talk without your lawyer present.”

She stared at him, shocked.
He was really taking her in.

She was his prisoner.

“W
HERE ARE WE GOING
?” Holly demanded in a voice that gave away nothing.

Riley didn't even look at her, because if he did, he'd have to touch her.

Not yet. “That's on a need-to-know basis.”

“And I don't need to know?”

“Not yet.”

“You can't do this.” Her chin was up, her eyes flashing.

So brave.

And yet Riley felt her nerves shimmering just beneath the surface. It was a tribute to how well he'd come to know her that he felt them at all.

A tribute
and
a curse because he was getting tired of fighting his feelings for her—which meant that what he was about to do was extra idiotic.

It didn't stop him.

“Why can't I do this?” he asked, his voice even.

“Because…” She stopped to fiddle with her top.
A top that had gotten his immediate attention not only because it was snug and spaghetti-strapped, but because the right strap kept slipping down. “Because I need to make sure the restaurant is clean for first thing in the morning. There's someone coming to look at the place.”

“A little grease isn't going to sway them.”

“I want everything to be perfect.”

“So you can get out of here all the faster?”

She was silent. “I'm not in a hurry to leave,” she said finally.

“Could have fooled me.”

“Harry needs to be let out.”

He couldn't help it, he laughed. “Is that the best you've got?”

“He does! And the dog, he'll be wondering what's happened to me.”

“The
dog.
Do you think you're ever going to name him, Holly? Or would that be too close to admitting you've come to care about those two animals in the same way you've come to care about this town?”

She opened her mouth, glared at him, then shut it again.

“Speechless? Isn't that a first?” Frustration built in him, both because she wouldn't let him in, and
because that's where he wanted to be. He took the next corner a bit tight.

Grabbing the dashboard rather than eat it, she glared at him. “I told you why I couldn't name him before. What if his owner had come and gotten him?”

“Then he'd have two names, and all the love he could ever want.”

“Buster,” she whispered.

“Why can't you just admit the truth? That you're too chicken? Too chicken to admit he's wormed his way into your heart the same way Harry did. The same way Dora did, and all the others. You're afraid,” he said flatly, bluntly, turning away from her pale face. “You're afraid of feeling something for the animals, for the people, for the town. For me.”

“Buster,” she repeated softly.

“What?”

“I named him Buster for the way he's busted into my heart. Like the people around here. Like the town.” She paused. “Like you.”

He risked a look at her now. “You sound uncertain.”

“Not about that. What I'm uncertain about is my future.”

“You don't have to be.”

“It's…complicated.”

“Yeah.” He took another turn and the wheels squealed.

“You're speeding.” She pointed to his speedometer. “I think that makes you a hypocrite. If you'll just stop and let me out, we'll call it even.”

“Can't do that.”

“Why not?”

“Probably the same reason you can't tell me what's really going on inside your head,” he said. “It's called stubbornness. Pride. Ego. Stupidity.”

They were on the edge of town now, close to the café, and his office. She bit her lower lip and shifted to face him. “Look, Riley, I should probably tell you…I really can't afford another ticket right now.”

“It's not the ticket you should be worried about.”

“Yeah, well, actually it is. You see, I sort of already have a few on my record.”

“Speeding?”

“Yes.”

“Always in a hurry, huh, Holly?”

“It's a character flaw. Anyway, another ticket would be really bad.”

“Should have thought about that earlier.”

“I wasn't going that fast.”

“Princess, you were barely a blur on the highway. You must have been in quite a hurry to have that date with your carton of ice cream.”

That got her, he could tell by the mental daggers stabbing into him. He passed the office, but then again, he'd never had any intention of stopping there. No, from the moment he'd seen her whipping through town, he'd known what he wanted tonight.

Her.

Even if it was only for tonight, which is of course all it would be.

She straightened and frowned. “Hey. Where are we going?”

“I told you. In.”

She was more than a little pale in the moonlight now. More than a little beautiful. She stirred him in a way no one else ever had, and he only knew one thing to do. “I'm taking you to my house.”

“Your— What for?”

“I have this plan. It involves carrying you up to my bed, removing every piece of clothing you have on so that I can touch and kiss and lick my way to heaven.”

Her mouth fell open again. Her hand fluttered up to her heart, and above that, at her neck, he could see the wild flutter of her pulse.

“I don't think—”

“Good. Perfect. Go with that.” His ranch was right in front of them now, and he parked close to the house. When he came around to the passenger's door, Holly was staring directly in front of her, perfectly still.

He took her hand and pulled her out of the car. They stood there in the dark night, staring at each other.

“You let me think that I was in trouble,” she whispered.

“You aren't in trouble, you
are
trouble.”

“You can't make me go in against my will.”

“Nope. But I can make you
want
to go in.”

“No one can do that.”

“I can make you want to talk to me, too, tell me your deepest, darkest secrets. Your feelings, your wishes. Your desires, your hopes.”

“No.” She was looking at him with her tough, beat-this expression, but there, mixed in with the coolness, he saw desire, need, and especially fear—everything he was feeling, too.

He still held her hand, and he reached for the other one. He leaned close to brush his mouth to her cheek. When she turned toward him, it was the most natural thing in the world to kiss her lips.

She sighed, all signs of temper and annoyance
draining away as he tasted her—soft and sweet and so female.

“Riley.” Just that, just his name, but it was all he needed. He kissed her again, then again, until she slipped her arms around his neck. At the same time he caught her up against him, and the sheer relief of having her there, pressed to him from chest to thigh, was almost more than he could bear. “You feel good.”

“So do you, but I can think so and still not like you.”

“Liar.” He opened the front door of his house and stood aside, giving her the choice.

She stared inside for a long moment, taking in his big, airy living room. “Now is a fine time to be chivalrous.”

“Yes or no, Holly.” His entire body clenched in painful anticipation. “Will you come in?”

“To go to bed with you? Or to…talk?”

Trust her to be so forthcoming. She was obviously far more terrified of talking.

Ironic, since that's what he wanted more than anything.

He just waited, and when she let out a loud sigh and stepped over the threshold, he took a huge breath of relief.

“I'm thirsty,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around herself.

She was nervous. The realization touched him unbearably, made him feel protective, tender. “Come, then.”

In the kitchen she flipped on all the lights, making him smile. “Do you think you're safer from what's between us that way?”

“I'm not afraid of you,” she said decisively, but moved to the far side of the kitchen, on the other side of the island, on which there sat a huge chocolate cake.

“Maria,” he said. “She left me dessert.”

“She left enough for the entire town.” She swiped a fingerful of the frosting, then stuck it in her mouth.

At the sucking sound she made, Riley went instantly hard. She could have no idea what she was doing to him. “Holly—”

She did it again, her eyes meeting his.

She knew.

Slowly, very slowly, she did it again, stroked her finger across the topping and then sucked it in. Helplessly, he moved toward her. “You're trying to seduce me so I can't make you talk to me.”

“I already told you, no one makes me do anything, and anyway—” she went for another bite
“it's your own fault, being so easy. All I'm doing is licking a little chocolate off my finger.”

“That's all, huh?” He became intensely determined to bring her to the fevered pitch he was already at, that he'd been at since the first day she'd come to town. With as much slow precision as she'd shown, he slid his finger through the frosting.

Then he looked at her.

She registered the wicked gleam in his eyes and stepped back, hitting up against the counter. “Don't even think about it.”

He held up his finger, thickly coated in chocolate. “Oh, I'm thinking about it.”

“Riley—”

He merely stepped toward her, effectively trapping her into the corner, and touched her lower lip.

Heat spiraled through her body without warning. Her mouth opened, and before she could think of the wisdom of the action, she sucked his finger into her mouth.

A slow groan escaped him, and he watched her with such intensity she wondered how long she could stand.

“I want you,” he whispered. “But not in the way you think. I want to know you, inside and out.
I want to understand you. I want you to open up to me. I want—”

“You don't…want my body?”

“Not before the rest.”

She didn't want to talk to him because she knew that would lead—straight to getting hurt. He'd grow to know her, would realize how terribly unsuited she was for both him and Little Paradise, maybe even realize that she wasn't a particularly good person, and then it would be over.

But not before her heart got stomped on.

Yes, she wanted him, maybe even in the way he wanted her, but it wouldn't work, surely he had to see that! All she could give him was her body, not more, please not more.

“Give me the rest, Holly, give me all of you.”

“No.”

What made him want to know her, anyway? He was her polar opposite. He saw the glass half-full, she saw it half-empty. He saw the good in everyone, she was always expecting the worst.

She couldn't help but wonder what he saw when he looked at
her.
“Let me get this straight,” she said. “That kiss? It's going to lead to
nowhere?
”

“Not unless you're going to talk to me.”

“About me.”

“Yes.”

No. It was humiliation that had her scooping up more frosting, with
two
fingers this time, and going at Riley.

He was quick. Catching her wrist, he laughed. “Temper, temper…”

Laughing was his second mistake. Her other hand was free, and she used it, swiping a good amount of the frosting across his jaw. “You made me
want
you, you…you jerk! And then you brought me here, letting me think that we would…that…” She ran out of steam, realizing she'd just admitted she wanted him more than he obviously wanted her.

He stared at her in shock. But he had amazing regrouping capabilities. And unfortunately for her, she'd forgotten his strength. With little to no trouble, he pinned her back in the corner, both hands held captive behind her back with one of his.

Which left his other free.

Not good.

He stuck a finger in the frosting, slowly, letting her suffer, then smiled down at her, his expression pure trouble. “I'm glad you want me,” he said huskily, chocolate dripping off his jaw. “I want you, too, but apparently I didn't make that clear enough. I want you, but I want a lot more than a quick roll in the sheets.”

She sucked in a breath. “Not me, that's all I want.”

“Really?”

Struggling did her no good. Given how he had her arms behind her back, she was at a distinct disadvantage. Not to mention that in this position, her chest was thrust out, slammed up against his.

Her body liked that, too much. She went still.

So did he. Then he brought his finger to the pulse at the base of her neck, stroking it—and the chocolate—down, down, down to where her top began, just above the swell of her breasts.

Against the white cotton material, her nipples thrust out.

At the sight, he made a soft, aching sound. “Then I guess this will have to be enough,” he murmured. “For now.”

“For forever.”

“You're wrong about that,” he said, making her nervous, because surely he couldn't read her mind, right? He couldn't know she'd been starting to dream about him, starting to hope and wonder?

“I should just walk home,” she said bravely. “But it's dark and dangerous.”

“Princess, looking the way you do tonight, you're in far more danger from me than anyone on the street.” Then he was back with the chocolate,
reminding her that she was his captive. He made another path across the top of one breast, over the soft curve. He made that rough noise again, the one that caused an answering tug from deep within her, a tug that couldn't—wouldn't—be denied.

She leaned forward as much as she could and nibbled at the chocolate still on his jaw. Bending his head, he returned the favor, sucking frosting off her skin, as well. Her hands flexed in his, and she couldn't hold back her shameless whimper for more.

“Good?”

“Just this,” she repeated, absolutely breathless. “Just this. No talking, nothing more. Promise.”