Wicked All Night (13 page)

“I'll be fine,” Rachel murmured, hoping that her fibbing wasn't too obvious. “You don't need to be concerned about Decker's sham. I'm sure you had nothing to do with it.”

“It's not what you think,” Xander insisted a moment later, hovering protectively beside his wife. “He never had any intention of hurting you.”

Rachel ached to believe him. But her head kept telling her heart to stop being so damn naïve. “With all the evidence to the contrary, that's hard to buy.”

Yet somehow, she sat there, waiting for Decker to emerge from his interrogation so she could catch a glimpse of him, wait for him to say
something
to her. She yearned to believe that she'd know the truth by seeing it on his face, but . . . that was another foolish notion.

Or she'd settle for someone delivering the punch line to this really awful joke. Everything seemed surreal.

“Honey . . .” London moved closer to hug her, and Rachel felt the smallest swell of the other woman's baby bump. A little jolt of envy pierced her.

She'd probably never feel a child growing in her body. Quickly on her way to thirty, divorced once, and then deceived by the man she'd probably always regard as the love of her life, she didn't see motherhood in her future. And she didn't want to swing a third strike. Maybe she was just meant to be alone. Or she should try devoting the rest of her days to a cause she could be passionate about and get lost in.

Of course nothing would ever give her the kind of mind-bending passion Decker had. Or would make her feel as special. She'd always want to believe all the wonderful words he'd spoken to her, all the pleasure he'd heaped on her, but Rachel feared nothing and no one would ever fill the void he was leaving behind in her life.

Good gravy, she sounded maudlin and woe-is-me. Because she loved Decker and knew that no other man would do. Somehow in the span of a few golden hours, she'd ended up surrendering her heart to him.

“I'll be all right.” She stood and hugged London. “It'll just take time.”

The pity in the woman's blue eyes made her heart lurch. Xander hovered nearby, his face grim.

“Don't give up on him yet. He's really a good guy,” London murmured.

“He cares a lot about you,” Xander swore.

Maybe. Maybe not. She didn't know what to think anymore.

With another hug and a squeeze of her hand, London left, clinging to Xander's arm and promising to call next week. She waved them out with a wan smile, then sat staring at the wall.

As they departed, sunlight slanted through her back windows, illuminating her house in a gorgeous glow. And yet for her, the world felt as if it were coming to an end.

Seriously, she was going to have to pull herself up by her bootstraps and stop crying in her beer.

Suddenly, the EMTs came by and took the blanket. They inquired after her again, and she sent them away. There was nothing wrong with her that first aid or a trip to the ER could fix.

Shonda texted that her brother was being discharged from the hospital. Rachel sent her a smiley face back, too exhausted and dazed to manage more. She didn't know whether thirty minutes or an eternity passed.

Finally, there was a flurry of activity at the back of her house. Men yelled. Doors shut. Someone laughed. Then a pair of uniformed officers and a detective made their way toward the front door, sparing a smile for her.

“We'll call you if we have any other questions, but otherwise you're free,” the detective said. “Rest up. We'll leave a few uniforms outside so you feel safe.”

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“Thanks, guys. I've got it from here.”

Decker.

Rachel whipped around at the sound of his voice. He stood at the opening to the hallway, still wearing yesterday's clothes. He hadn't shaved. He really hadn't slept much. And he still looked not just sexy as all get out, but so familiar and beloved that she felt her eyes tear up.

The detective nodded and shut the door behind him, closing her in the house alone with Decker.

“Why are you still here?” she asked. She didn't want the question to come out like an accusation, but it probably did.

“Because we're not done, you and I.” He prowled closer, closer, until he stopped right before her. “Rachel, I don't know what Christian told you or what you believe, but if I had really wanted to kill you, beautiful, you'd be dead. I learned a thousand different ways with Delta Force and the CIA. I've used a fair number of them. I'm not a Boy Scout. But I would never, ever, for any reason hurt you.”

She wanted to believe him so badly . . . “So was it some sort of sting operation and you seduced me to catch a bad guy?”

“No, I really do work for Xander and Javier now. Nothing I told you was a lie. I just didn't confess that I sought you out because, earlier on Saturday, Christian Adams approached me in a bar and mistook me for someone he'd connected with online to do a kill-for-hire job. The other guy apparently backed out, but didn't tell Christian. When he hit me up, I thought he was joking. By the time I realized he was serious, the guy was slapping down money, your picture, and giving me a few days to finish you off. I went straight to the police. I swear it, baby. They told me I didn't have enough evidence. So I decided to keep you safe myself. I didn't tell you because I didn't want to scare the hell out of you.” He grimaced. “And I didn't stay out of your bed because resisting you was beyond me.”

Her first instinct was to protect herself and toss his explanation back in his face. But she took a deep breath and started turning it over in her head. She could picture Decker thinking that some guy's “job opportunity” was a joke. If he'd actually done anything illegal, the police would have taken him into custody, so they must have absolved him of any wrongdoing. That meant . . . he probably had approached and seduced her because he'd ultimately meant to protect her. Was it that hard to believe that he'd wanted her, too?

After years of neglect at Owen's hands? Sadly, yes.

“How much of what we shared was pretend?” Her voice was small, and she hated asking the question, but for her peace of mind, she had to know.

“Between us in bed naked, with me deep inside you?” He crouched in front of her. “Not a damn thing.”

Rachel slid her eyes shut. Her heart leapt at his words, and her mind pushed back. She hated this turmoil.

“Was I just a fling for you?” His question cut through her confusion. He sounded uncertain.

Wait. Was he actually worried that he hadn't been meaningful to her?

She opened her eyes, falling into his blue stare, wanting to stay there forever. “No.”

“Thank fucking God.”

Before she could respond, Decker settled his arms under her knees and behind her back, then lifted her against his chest. He began to cart her down the hall.

“Wha . . . what are you doing?” she sputtered.

“Putting an end to this bullshit.”

Rachel gaped at him, her thoughts a muddle. What did he mean?

She didn't have to wonder long.

Decker carried her into her bedroom and tossed her on the bed. On her way down, she saw his suitcase in the corner of the room, wide open. Half the contents were on the floor, as if the police really had conducted a search of his stuff.

He grabbed a few things from the little duffel and scooped them into his hand, enclosing whatever he held in his fist. She didn't even have time to sit up and confront him about what in the heck he was doing. No, he lowered himself on top of her, tying her wrists to the slats in her headboard with two mismatched athletic socks he'd held.

“What the devil . . .” she demanded. “Decker!”

“The problem we're having now is trust. You don't really trust that I was protecting you from Christian. You sure as hell don't believe I fell for you. Both are the absolute truth. Beautiful, you changed something for me.” He cupped her face. “No, you changed everything for me. If I'm not just a fling for you, and you're mad that I lied, that has to mean that you care about me, too. Right?”

Good gravy, how could he figure her out so easily? “Bite me.”

“Love to. Where?” he grinned.

Teasing wasn't going to work. She wasn't going to fall for his sense of humor all over again, even if his warm body pinned her to the mattress, reminding her just how hard and built he was all over. How good he could make her feel.

Rachel just glared at him. “That is not funny.”

“No? How about this . . .” He kissed his way up her neck and murmured in her ear. “They should suspend your driver's license because you drive me crazy.”

“Ha ha.” She was mad, damn it. And she wanted to stay mad until she decided otherwise. After the day she'd had, she deserved it.

“Still not moved? I'll try again.” He caressed her cheek. “You must be the sun and I must be Earth, 'cause the closer we get, the hotter you get. Or maybe I should say that everything about you pulls me in.”

How was she supposed to reply to that? It was part offhand joke, part compliment. The truth was, everything about him pulled her in, too.

“You cannot give me more pick-up lines and think that's going to make everything all better.”

“Not even a little?” He nipped at her lobe, then started unbuttoning her blouse. “Wanna fuck? Breathe for yes; lick your elbow for no.”

Seriously?
With a growl, she tugged at her bonds, but Decker was good at bondage, like he was good at everything else. She wasn't going anywhere until he decided to let her go.

“Stop it!”

But he didn't. Once her blouse was open, he parted the sides and ran his hands down her lace-clad breasts, then up and under her back. He opened the clasp with a twist of his fingers, and the bra sagged away from her body. He pulled it loose and cupped her, thumbing her sensitive nipples.

Rachel bit back a moan. “Decker, I didn't say yes.”

“You're breathing, aren't you?” He winked, then pulled a switchblade from his pocket. “Sorry. I'll buy you a new one.”

Before she could wonder what that meant, he cut up through the straps of her bra and tossed the useless garment across the room.

“Hey!” she protested.

The only response Decker gave was to work his way down her body, pausing to kiss her nipples and stroke them with his tongue. She wanted to stay angry—really. But the way he delved into her gaze, so attentive and in tune with her, the way he touched her, like she was his everything . . .

Rachel wasn't listening to his explanation. She'd made excuses for Owen for years, and didn't want to be the same sort of stupid twice. On the other hand, could she let the best thing that ever happened to her walk out because she refused to have a conversation? No.

Then again, he didn't seem to want to talk that much . . .

Suddenly, he crouched at the end of the bed and pulled her shoes off, then nipped at her toes. “I'm having a party at your feet, beautiful. I think I should invite your pants down to join.”

Despite herself, she laughed. “What if my pants are not in the mood for a party?”

Decker sent a sexy smirk her direction. “I can fix that. Wanna see?”

“What if my pants are busy?” she challenged.

“They aren't yet, but give me ten minutes.”

“Incorrigible.” And impossible to stay mad at. “That's what you are.”

“Yep.” He sent her a sly glare as he unfastened her pants, tugged at her zipper, then yanked the jeans down her thighs. Naturally, her panties followed, leaving her bare from the ankles up. “Is that what you're going to tell your mama when I meet her?”

Rachel opened her mouth to answer, but he rubbed the heel of his palm right over her sweet spot. Her breath caught. Sparks and tingles zoomed right behind her clit, and she struggled to find her brain. “Why would you be meeting my mother?”

“If I'm going to stick around, I've got to.” He smiled softly at her . . . even as his hand played between her legs. “And believe me, I plan to be with you for a long time.”

“It's really hard to think when you're doing that.” She squeezed her eyes shut.

“Then don't. Just look at me.”

The way his command caressed her, like supple velvet, had her complying. She focused on him. “What?”

“I'm not joking, and this isn't a line. I'm your Mr. Right. I want you. I love you, Rachel. Marry me.”

She blinked up at him and sucked in a breath. Not a hint of a smile creased his face as he pulled off the last of her jeans and panties, then tore off his own clothing, donning a condom and crawling between her legs. He probed at her opening gently, then eased deep inside her in one long stroke that made her shudder with pleasure.

Of her own volition, her thighs parted. Her back arched. She moaned in welcome.

“Home is where the heart is, and mine is right here. Trust me. Believe me. Marry me.”

Rachel moved with him, tilting to take him deeper and melting into him when he wrapped his arms around her and snagged her gaze, seized her mouth, and captured her heart for good.

He took his time, working her body with unhurried strokes and questing fingers, caressing her all over, making her feel like the most beautiful, most beloved woman in the world.

“Why?” she whispered, her stare clinging to him.

“Because I've needed you my whole life. Roots and home and love. You're all that for me and more. I know it's fast, and you don't know me well . . .” He paused to seat himself deeper and send her senses reeling with leisurely thrusts designed to steal her breath. “But I can make you love me if you'll give me time. I'll be your shelter, your protector, your . . . whatever you need.”

The last of her anger and fear bled out. Only Decker and his earnest gaze remained. He'd never be easy to live with. He'd probably be really unpredictable, but she needed some of that in her life.