The Harder They Fall (14 page)

She whimpered his name, gripping him tight.

His control shattered.

He wrapped Trisha in his arms, pressed her hard into the bedding, and crushed his mouth to hers. Kissing her with a heated thoroughness didn’t diminish the need, instead it fueled it. So did the endearingly awkward way she held him so close he could hardly breathe. He didn’t mind one bit. Reaching down, he slid his fingers under cotton, through soft curls, and found her slick and hot for him.

She gasped. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders.

He thrust gently into her and groaned at the exquisite wet, velvety feel of her. Tight, he thought, so unbelievably tight. Lightly, but sure and utterly relentless, he moved his fingers until his name tumbled from her lips, her voice low, shaky ... anxious.

“It’s all right,” he whispered against her skin. “I want to feel you explode, Trisha. Come for me.” Then he kissed her fiercely, while his touch had her quivering, panting. In the next instant the delicious tension in her shattered as she surrendered with a wordless cry of wonder.

He held back, waiting until she was lost in the storm, trembling and shuddering, before he patiently started again, dipping his head to lave at her breast.

Trisha could hardly stand it. Drowning in the endless waves of pleasure, she couldn’t catch her breath. Within seconds she felt herself trembling again, so close, so very close....

Above her, Hunter went still.

With hungry, desperate desire pounding her, blood raging through her veins, Trisha couldn’t think beyond her own need. She gripped his arms. Beneath her fingers, she felt him quiver and knew he was holding back purposely. “Hunter.”

Lifting his head, he stared at her, his mouth still wet from kissing her breast. “The alarm,” he said thickly.

She let out a little laugh. She’d heard bells, too, they’d been ringing in her head ever since he first kissed her so hotly. “It’s not real—” She stiffened.

They were real
. She heard them now. Only it wasn’t a bell, but a siren, loud and getting louder.

With regret and an unleashed fire burning in his eyes, Hunter’s gaze ran down the length of her exposed body. “They’re coming here.”

The siren came closer, got louder.

“No,” she whispered. “No!” Reflexively, she clamped her thighs tight, holding his hand against her.

Hunter sighed and dropped his forehead to hers. “I’m sorry, Trisha.”

She didn’t relax her thighs, still imprisoning his hand against the hot, desperate part of her that needed him. She couldn’t. A sound of wordless remorse left his lips as he tenderly pried open her legs. With a last, soft kiss to her lips, he sat up, slowly, regretfully.

From her window came the flash of red-and-white lights. The siren wailed once loudly, then cut.

“But...” Her hips were still mindlessly rocking, her body still tingled and ached and wanted.... Dammit, she felt like crying.

Then Hunter reached for her, ran the pad of his thumb once lightly over her lips before pulling her shirt back down to her thighs. “Someone must have called them when the alarm went off,” he said quietly, his voice not quite steady as he stood and walked to the door.

From far below came the sound of voices.

“I’ll go tell them what happened.”

Still sprawled on the bed, she could only stare at him. Was she the only one rendered positively speechless by what had just happened, by what had almost happened?

No. Even in the dark, she could see the blatant evidence of his own raging desire.

“I still want you,” she whispered.

“Trisha—God, I’m sorry. But I’ve got to go before they come up here looking for the fire.”

“Come back?” she whispered, but he’d turned away and didn’t hear her. The skin of his sleek back glistened, and she knew no matter what he wanted to think, he wasn’t immune to what had taken place between them.

She ached to touch him.

“Try to go back to sleep,” he said quietly, then turned back to her. “It’s late.”

Her gaze rose to his face and she realized the awful truth.
He wasn’t coming back
. Already, he’d reestablished his distance. Her only comfort was that barely checked hunger flickering in his eyes.

Fine, he wanted to suffer alone, she’d let him. Pride refused to allow her to beg him. But it was difficult, knowing he was leaving, and that every inch of her still trembled for his touch. “Good-bye, Hunter.”

For one last interminable moment, he looked at her. Stark need shimmered there,
for her
. So did something else, something deeper. Basic affection, yes, but even more. It thrilled, even as it terrified. She opened her mouth, then shut it again. Anything she said now would have him bolting, running scared.

“Trisha.”

Her name spoken so sweetly made her heart thump. But then his lashes lowered, and he masked his emotions from her. “Good night,” he whispered, and he left.

He still feared this, she realized. The loss of control wasn’t acceptable to him.

Sleep
, he’d suggested.

“Yeah, right,” she muttered with a shaky sigh. “I’ll be able to get some sleep now.” Trisha punched her pillow, burrowed deeply into her blankets, and tried not to remember what his mere touch had done to her. Or how good his body had felt against hers.

Tried not to think about something even more disturbing: She was falling in love with him, if she wasn’t already there.

“So,” Celia asked with a sly smile when Trisha made it into work the next day, “did the basket do the trick? Did it do something for you?”

“It did something, all right.” It had given her a ridiculous headache, among other things. Trisha slipped out of her coat and moved into the shop. The scent of lilacs and wood filled the air. Music drummed, pulsing pleasantly. From deep inside, an inner peace worked its way through Trisha’s tense body. Her slight hangover began to fade.

Here, at least, she could relax.

She hoped.

“You don’t look so well,” Celia said, moving close, looking worried. Her hair today was red, still spiky, with an interesting white streak down one side. Her one-piece bodysuit, jet-black and vinyl, matched her black-lacquered fingernails. Somehow, in the way only Celia could carry off, she looked gorgeous. “What’s the matter, honey?”

“Late night,” Trisha muttered, shrugging off the concern. It just might make her fall apart.

“You didn’t sleep well?”

She hadn’t slept at all once Hunter had left her, her body so charged and fired up, it wouldn’t, couldn’t relax. Finally she’d hugged her pillow tight, imagined it was Hunter’s long, lean, hard body, and dozed fitfully until dawn.

His car, bent fender and all, had been gone when she awoke.

“Trisha?” came Celia’s worried voice.

“I’m fine.” She sighed, turned, and faced her closest—and only—friend. Celia had been there through thick and thin—always. Even when Trisha had moved from California early on, they’d kept in touch with constant letters. In late high-school years, when Uncle Victor had been reassigned and Trisha had moved back, their friendship had continued as if they’d never been separated. Never in Trisha’s life had making friends been easy,
never
, except with Celia. “The basket was wonderful, and it definitely worked—for a while.”

“Awhile?”

Trisha took a deep breath. “Until Hunter arrived, found me passed out cold in the bed with the fire alarm blaring.”

“Oh my God.” Celia, a woman
never
startled or ruffled, stared at her, eyes huge. With unmistakable hope, she asked, “Did he take advantage?”

“Celia! I wasn’t drunk.”

“I didn’t think you were,” Celia said faithfully, dropping all pretense of trying to sort through a box of new merchandise. “What happened? Did you do the deed?”

“Celia.”

“Sorry. No, I’m not. Tell me.”

“I guess the smoke from all the candles set off the alarm, but I fell asleep so fast...”

“You were very tired.”

“Thanks,” Trisha said with a tight smile. “But I think I made a fool of myself when I did wake up.”

“No, I’m sure you didn’t.”

To stall, Trisha bent, dipped into the new shipment, and pulled out a midnight-blue boxer pajama set. “Actually, I did. I pretty much threw myself at him.”

“Really? Does the scientist do other things as well as he kisses?”

Trisha carefully hung up the pajamas and dug farther into the box. “How do you know how he kisses?” she asked, amused at the salacious look on Celia’s face.

“I saw you the other day in your closet of an office, remember? I saw that dreamy, ‘I’m lost in lust’ look on your face. Besides, with a body like that, it’d be a shame if he didn’t know how to use it.”

Oh, he knew how to use it, all right. Her legs went weak just thinking about it. “The point is,” Trisha said primly, “I threw myself at him. I don’t think he’s used to that.”

“No man in his right mind would complain.”

“Maybe not,” she conceded. “But Hunter is different. He seems to have trouble with my lifestyle.”

“Well, then he doesn’t know you very well, does he?” Celia reached for Trisha’s hand. “It bugs you. What he thinks gets to you.”

“A little.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“I know, I can’t seem to help myself.” Trisha shrugged. “I think about him far too much.”

Celia’s eyes softened in understanding. “You’re falling for him. You’re falling for a man like you’ve always said you never would.”

“No.”

“‘A steady relationship is not for me,’ you’ve always said. You’ve avoided them like the plague. Only a date here and there, and only when I beg you.” Celia looked at her, amazed. And concerned. “And now, out of the blue, you go for the very opposite of yourself—an uptight, conceited intellectual who—”

“He’s not conceited.”

Celia gave her a long look. “Fine. But he is—”

“I know, I know.” Trisha sighed. “He’s—” What had his secretary said about him? “Single-minded, a bit arrogant, and more than a little annoying. But it’s all just appearance, Celia. I know it is. It’s a cloak he wears, almost as if it’s protection. And think about it, a man like that would need protection. He’s affluent, wealthy, well-known. He’s probably hounded regularly.”

“Yeah,” Celia said dryly. “I bet it’s real tough looking as good as he does, and having money too! How awful for him. My sympathies.”

Trisha ignored that. “Beneath that cool, distant exterior, there’s so much more. He’s intelligent, funny, sensitive. Passionate.”

“Oh, man,” Celia breathed, staring at her. “You’re gone. Really gone.”

“Yeah,” Trisha said miserably, dropping the lacy garment she was holding to cover her eyes. “I am. And it’s just awful.”

“Don’t worry. If he hurts you, I’ll kill him.”

Trisha laughed weakly. “My hero.”

“Are you sure, Trish?” Celia asked suddenly, grabbing her hands, staring into her eyes. “Is he really the one?”

Another weak laugh came from her. “I’m sure he wouldn’t think so.”

“It’s what you think at this point that matters.”

“He’s the one,” she whispered.

“He’s very different from you, from what your hopes and dreams are,” Celia pointed out needlessly.

“My hopes and dreams were to be left alone to be as I wanted to be. But now ... well, I’m still wanting to be as I am, but I don’t think I want to be alone. Does this make any sense?”

“I just don’t want to see you let down. Are you really, really sure?”

“I’m sure,” Trisha whispered. “I can tell he has feelings for me, deep ones he won’t give in to this easily. I’m not sure why, but he won’t.”

“Maybe he’s been hurt,” Celia suggested reluctantly. “Or maybe he just isn’t the type to let go easily. He does seem to be really disciplined.”

“Yes,” Trisha said, thinking of how he’d been able to walk away last night when she’d been a quivery mass of nerve endings. Then she thought of his deep eyes and their swirling secrets. She’d sensed his hurt. “But he isn’t cold. Far from it.”

A customer walked in then, and desperately needing to stop thinking, Trisha moved to offer assistance. “I just need to forget this madness,” she whispered over her shoulder to Celia. “It’s a dead end for me, no matter how much I want it.”

Her face tight with love and worry, Celia watched Trisha walk away. “Your entire life up until recently has been a dead end, honey. It’s time things went your way. For once. You deserve it. You can’t just forget about him.”

Then she sighed, knowing Trisha wouldn’t act on this advice herself. A smile touched her face. “But I can act on it for her,” she murmured.

Ten

She’d been perfect, the stuff dreams were made of. Jaw tight, temper questionable, Hunter strode down the long corridor of NASA, for the thousandth time dwelling on what had happened with Trisha a few days earlier.

He’d wanted her, badly. Still did. Any normal man would have gone back for her, he thought, disgusted with himself. But he wasn’t normal. Not by a long shot.