Trust Me: The Lassiter Group, Book 1 (14 page)

He slid a hand between their bodies, tugging impatiently at the towel. Once it hit the floor he caressed the inside of her thigh, inching higher. She squirmed beneath him, tightening her thighs and hugging him closer.

Lightly raking the tip of one nipple with his teeth, he palmed her sex, rotating slowly. God, she was already damp.

“Yes.”

He grinned. “Was that yes, or
yes
?” He followed the deliberate emphasis with a soft pump of two fingers that slid deep inside her.

They both groaned, and the slick walls clenched around him. He withdrew, sliding up her cleft in search of the sensitive knot and spreading her wetness across it.

Looping both arms around his neck, she dragged him up to meet her mouth. Bolder than before, she pushed her tongue between his lips, robbing him of any coherent thoughts he might have been clinging to.

As the kiss blew past wild and right into savage, he drove his fingers back inside her. The faster and harder he thrust, the more she strained beneath him. And when he circled her clit again, thumbing the plump flesh in teasing strokes, she lifted her hips, meeting each thrust.

So damn hot. She had barely touched him and he was ready to lose his mind.

The responsive roll of her hips grew more frantic, her mouth moving faster against his.

“Lucas…I…fuck…” She threaded her fingers through the ends of his hair.

Her thighs trembled around him and he buried his fingers deep once more, waiting for that panted moan to slow, then he rubbed her clit. She cried out, her body tensing as she came.

Slowly, she melted back into the cushions, but didn’t let go of him, her face tucked against his throat. He already had the top button undone on his pants and his zipper half way down when she pulled back enough to look at him.

She offered him a smile that perfectly suited her stunning blue eyes, which didn’t seem quite so haunted. That vulnerability she’d shown him in the hotel room that morning was still there, but softer somehow.

She arched her hips, silently encouraging him to keep going, and so help him, he couldn’t think of damn good reason he shouldn’t already be inside her and halfway to heaven.

Except that if things went any further between them, he wasn’t so sure he could do his job and bring her in.

Chapter Eight

“Lucas?”

Limbs still deliciously heavy from her explosive climax, Max watched indecision run across Lucas’s face.

He glanced at something over her head, then straightened. His expression grew tense and he cringed, his hand sliding over his ribs.

“You’re hurting,” she guessed.

He nodded vaguely and moved to the other end of the couch. Without the warm weight of his body, she felt both chilled and increasingly exposed.

Suddenly self-conscious, she reached for the towel on the floor and wrapped it around herself. “I saw some ibuprofen in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom if you could use something to take the edge off.”

“Not this kind of edge.” His eyes met hers, the heat in his gaze making her stomach tighten all over again.

He finally stood and she knew she should be grateful one of them had slowed things down. It was the part of her that wanted to coax him back to finish what they’d started that she didn’t know what to do about.

She was afraid she was looking for more than just sex, because even with her body riding the sharp edge of release, his hands all over her—and god he knew how to use them—she’d felt…safe.

As much as kissing him in the diner had thrown her world into a wonderfully dizzying backspin, she hadn’t truly let go. She hadn’t let go in so long she’d been convinced she couldn’t anymore—until Lucas had covered her body with his, the drugging weight of him sheltering her, protecting her.

It was almost laughable considering what she’d been through since he had walked into her life. But right this second something in her craved only his arms sliding around her.

She told herself she didn’t need it, that she was doing fine on her own, and even if she could trust him, she was still better off on her own.

And what if you’re wrong?

Ignoring the small voice in the back of her mind, Max watched the rain spatter on the front windows. Fog was rolling in, making it harder to see across the river.

“I’m going to grab a shower.” He didn’t move, though, his attention fixed on the fire in the woodstove that was going strong now.

“It’s pouring out, Lucas. I’ve got no dry clothes, no money, no ID and have no idea where I’m even at. I’m not going anywhere if that’s why you’re still standing there.”

She waited for him to look at her to see if she was lying. He only nodded and disappeared into the bathroom.

Once the door was closed, she sagged back against the cushions and closed her eyes. Having grown up with three older brothers and worked in a field dominated by men, she should have more confidence when it came to handling Lucas.

Worried she was going to over-think the last few minutes, she stood and pulled on one of the T-shirts she’d brought out, relieved it fell to mid-thigh. After she arranged her wet clothes on a chair in front of the woodstove to dry, she turned her attention to the pantry.

There were mostly canned goods inside, some unopened condiments, a few bottles of water and packages of pudding, and—she shuddered—sardines.

Choosing two small cans of beef stew, she set them on the counter and dug through the cupboard until she found a small pot to warm up the stew. She also came across two more empty beer bottles, a half-eaten chocolate bar and some kind of hard candy someone had spit into an empty glass.

Classy.

Definitely couldn’t be the owner’s party leftovers.

With the stew heating up, she crossed to the open door, leaned up against the jamb and watched the rain come down in drenching sheets.

She hadn’t been lying when she said she had nowhere to go. She’d been so careful for so long, always keeping her next move in the back of her mind, never letting her guard down. But she’d grown too comfortable in Riverbend, telling herself she’d figure something out, but never quiet deciding when, since it would mean she’d have to leave.

And now here she was with nothing but drenched clothes by the fire and no game plan.

How much longer could she keep running? Whatever Lucas was after—revenge, justice, something else entirely—he was right about one thing. Cara wouldn’t have run, not for as long as Max had.

Having grown up with her parents on one scientific expedition after another and her older brother in the military and gone almost just as often, Cara had been one of the most self-reliant people Max had ever met.

Being on the run and away from her family left Max lonelier than she’d ever been, but she refused to put them at risk. It didn’t matter that her dad and older brothers were in the service—two cops and a firefighter—Blackwater would have found a way to hurt them to get to her if he thought they knew anything.

No, Cara wouldn’t still be running. She would have found an angle or a weakness to exploit Blackwater by now.

She heard the bathroom door open behind her and steeled herself before she glanced over her shoulder. It didn’t do a damn bit of good. One glimpse of the towel hanging low and loose around Lucas’s hips, his chest bare and his gaze locked on her, and she was grateful she had the support of the door frame.

The man’s unwavering confidence echoed in every sure and determined step, and his effortless smile drew her completely. And she wasn’t even counting the eyes she’d once believed to be only cold and empty. She knew better now, had felt the heat, the hunger, the sheer want in them every time he’d looked at her earlier.

Lucas had a soul all right, and it burned hot and fierce and touched far more of her than she wanted it to.

She glanced back at the rain, suddenly unsure if she preferred to think he was playing her as opposed to being caught up in something she was afraid to put a name to.

“You’re still here.” Something hit the floor, his towel maybe.

“Sorry. I know how much you were looking forward to chasing me out in the rain.”

He laughed. “Guess I’ll have to find another way to amuse myself.”

When she felt him behind her, she straightened and turned. Thirty seconds ago she’d been convinced that as long as he got dressed she’d stop thinking about running her hand up his chest.

Apparently not. The plain white T-shirt looked just as good on him and—

She burst out laughing. “Are those—” she tipped her head, “—naked women on your shorts?”

“Hey, you picked them out.”

“I must have still been getting over my run-in with Bambi’s mom and didn’t notice.”

He frowned. “Bambi’s mom? How much river water did you swallow out there?”

“I’m talking about the deer head in the armoire in the bedroom.” She checked the stew, not the least bit surprised that Lucas went to see what she was talking about. “Don’t most men usually keep them up some place they won’t scare the crap out of unsuspecting people?”

He walked back out of the bedroom. “Am I supposed to have an answer for that because I’m a man?”

She shrugged. “Tracking and hunting just seemed to be an area of expertise for you.”

He grabbed a couple bowls out of the cupboard. “Well if I had a choice, I’d take tracking big game over people any day.”

“Why is that?”

“Because no matter how big or strong they are, their hooves just aren’t capable of swinging a gas can like a pro baseball player.”

Despite herself, she felt a smile tug at her lips.

Lucas poured the stew into two bowels and carried them to the table. She moved the garbage and empty beer bottles to the counter before grabbing them each a spoon and water, and sat opposite Lucas.

They ate in relative silence, but it wasn’t quite as strained as breakfast. More than once she felt him watching her, but couldn’t force herself to lift her head.

“You play checkers?”

Without answering him, she put her empty bowel in the sink and rinsed it out.

“Max?”

“What are you doing?” She turned around slowly. “You’re cracking jokes and talking about checkers and passing the time like we’re really on vacation. A few hours ago we were fleeing the cops in a stolen car, and that was after you cuffed us together.”

He nodded, but offered nothing further.

“You don’t think there is anything weird about setting up a checker board after all that? After what happened earlier?” She blew out a breath.

Lucas stood and crossed his arms, his expression impossible to read.

“We’re not friends, Lucas. I’ve managed to keep myself out of trouble until you came along, and just because we’re lying low doesn’t mean we need to keep pretending—”

“Pretending to what?”

“Just because I stuck around while you were in the shower doesn’t mean I’m going anywhere with you, least of all back to New York, so whatever angle you’re working—”

“Angle?” Now he sounded annoyed.

“Isn’t that what this whole friendly routine is about? Trying to convince me I can trust you?”

“Contrary to popular belief, I am a friendly guy and you
can
trust me.”

She cocked her head. “Who called you earlier?”

He took a beat too long to answer. “My business partner.”

“Not your most convincing moment.” She moved past him, but didn’t get very far.

He snapped his arm out, planting it on top of the table, blocking her. His mouth all but skimmed her temple. “If you’re talking about what happened between is earlier, that wasn’t pretending.”

Rough and loaded with the same dark sensuality she found far too appealing, his words made it a little harder to drag in her next breath.

“If I was just stringing you along, do you think I would have let anything stop me from burying myself deep inside you? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since you kissed me this morning.”

“It was just a kiss,” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

His lips brushed her temple. “Not your most convincing moment.”

Her eyes slid shut and she held herself perfectly still, wishing she didn’t believe him.

He moved away from her, returning to the sink. Still trying to slow her racing heart, she watched him fill the sink up and begin washing their dishes. She wanted to laugh at how out of place it seemed given the last twenty-four hours.

Needing some space, she left him to the few dishes. “Just so you know, I’m not sleeping in the bathroom tonight.”

Hours later Lucas was wishing that
he
had slept in the bathroom. Either that or stayed on the couch.

Out there he wouldn’t feel the warmth of Max’s body, which was pressed close to his, or smell her skin or think the kind of hot, tangled thoughts that were going to get him in trouble.

And all that was before she shifted in her sleep and rolled to her side. Her T-shirt had ridden up and since he knew her panties were still in front of the woodstove, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind it was her very fine, very bare ass brushing his hip.

Maybe she hadn’t expected him to leave the couch, but since she’d only sighed sleepily when he crawled into bed, he hadn’t wasted a lot of time contemplating her objections.

They hadn’t spoken much after they’d eaten. Max kept her distance, and he’d kept his, going so far as to try and settle his six-foot-two frame on a couch made for someone five-foot-ten—tops. It seemed like the smartest move at the time, but that was before he’d lain there trying to figure out why he had gone out of his way to make it clear he wasn’t pretending when it came to how much he wanted her.

No matter how long he’d stared at the ceiling, he couldn’t come up with a reason except that he wanted to be honest with her about something. Something that had nothing to do with Cara or Blackwater or the job he still had to do.

That right there was how he knew he was in trouble. If his attraction to Max was based solely on physical chemistry, he wouldn’t be worried about being honest with her about anything. He’d keep his dick in his pants and follow orders.

And he wouldn’t be lying next to her clenching his jaw every time she moved, and at the same time hoping each shift would bring her closer.