Part 18 (1/2)

Waking the Dead Kylie Brant 84690K 2022-07-22

”You saved my . . .” She stopped abruptly, narrowing her eyes. It had been a blur of action, but she hadn't been in any danger. Unless. . . ”The pool cue?”

He smiled humorlessly. ”If he'd connected, you'd be nursing the mother of all headaches right now.”

She'd been shoved to her knees, she recalled. Not by the press of the crowd, but by Sharper. ”But he hit you instead.”

”Like I need the reminder.”

Her gaze lowered to his chest. And remembering the sound the cue had made when it'd smacked him had her feeling a little sick. ”Why would you do that?” She was honestly baffled.

”Why would I . . . yeah, I forgot. You're the woman of steel. Did I offend your super-agent sensibilities? Excuse me all to h.e.l.l.” His voice dripped derision. ”Next time I'll step aside and let the idiot whale on you.”

His sarcasm sailed by her. Cait was still grappling with the ramifications of his actions. Zach peered more closely at her. ”Haven't you ever had a man step up to protect you?”

She lifted a shoulder impatiently. It was a nonissue. She didn't need a male to protect her when she was usually perfectly capable of doing it herself. But his question gave her pause. Because she hadn't always had the training she'd acquired in the course of her work for Raiker. And Cait was trying-and failing-to remember a time prior to that when anyone in her life had tried to protect her. From anything.

”I almost got mugged once,” she recalled suddenly. The memory was hazy. It'd been nearly twenty years ago. They'd been in Milan. Or maybe Rome. ”The man I was dating threw the guy my purse so he'd let us go.” She didn't bother to mention that the man had been fifteen years her senior. Some details weren't pertinent.

She was surprised by his loud bark of laughter. ”Your boy-friend gave up your money? What a prince.”

His mockery had annoyance rising. ”And what would you have done? Chased the guy down and beat an apology from him?”

”d.a.m.n straight.”

His verbal machismo wouldn't have been so irritating if she weren't so certain it was accurate.

”I guess you had to be there.” It had seemed slightly more heroic at the time. Of course she'd been sixteen. A bit more impressionable than she was now. ”My ex-fiance once gave me a gift certificate to a women's self-defense course for my birthday.”

”I have a news flash for you, Slim. The guys you dated were d.i.c.ks.”

The fact that he'd summed up the men in question so precisely when it had taken her months, and one very messy broken engagement, to do the same wasn't particularly flattering. But no one knew better than she that shaking out the men from her past would result in a pile of users, losers, and liars. And that said far more about her than them.

”So . . . I guess you keep the ten then. Like you said. Call it even.”

He c.o.c.ked a brow. ”Ten bucks for your life? Seems about fair.” He paused a beat. ”Of course I also might have saved you some professional embarra.s.sment. If you'd landed in the hospital with a concussion, it would have been hard to explain to your boss.”

Amus.e.m.e.nt stirred. ”So now I owe you, is that it?”

”Then there's the pain and suffering aspect. Probably going to bruise where that guy connected.” He lifted a hand to brush over his chest. Gave a theatrical wince.

”My tab's mounting.”

”Don't worry, though.” His voice in the semishadows was pure wicked invitation. ”I've got a payment plan in mind.”

She'd just bet he did. ”Let's keep things in perspective. It's not like you threw yourself under a bus for me.”

He tapped his finger against his lips. ”One kiss. Just one. Then call us square.”

Cait eyed him dubiously. If he was trying for innocence with that expression, she could have told him his effort was wasted. He looked about as innocent as the serpent in the Garden of Eden, offering Eve a bite of that Granny Smith.

And like Eve, she found the temptation overpowering.

She made a production of releasing her seat belt. Noticed his had never been fastened. And slowly, with a great deal of antic.i.p.ation, leaned over to touch her lips against his.

Their previous kiss had been too brief. Unsatisfying. It hadn't allowed her to test for herself whether there was any softness in the man. To tell if he was all hard edges and steely resolve. Or whether she was fooling herself by believing his tough exterior really masked a depth that she'd occasionally caught glimpses of.

He was motionless, and that surprised her. If he had tried to take control of the depth or speed, it would have been all too easy to stop. To pull away and end the evening with a glib comment and more than a little regret. But since he didn't-since he allowed her to set the pace-she found herself relaxing infinitesimally. And took her time discovering some answers about the man for herself.

Her lips parted slightly to explore his. They were softer than she would have thought. With a firmness that held promise. She scored his lower lip with her teeth, and smiled at his sharply hissed in breath. It would be easy to get used to this. To tease and taste without worrying that it wouldn't lead any further. That it couldn't. To indulge in a fantasy that, if she was honest, had lingered in the corner of her mind like a persistent ghost.

The console between them made it difficult to get closer. To change the angle and deepen the kiss. But she leaned nearer, sliding her bandaged palm over his smooth jaw. And when she slicked her tongue along the seam of his lips, he exploded into action.

His arms sped out to lift her up and over the dividing console so she sat across his lap, all without breaking contact. His mouth ate at hers, pressing her lips apart so his tongue could sweep in, staking a claim.

And she couldn't resist reveling in the torrent she'd unleashed for another minute. Or maybe two.

He was good at this. No surprise there. There was a basic carnal pleasure to be had in the mingling of breath. The clash of lips, teeth, tongues. But when the sensation kick-started need, she mentally clawed for reason. Found it surprisingly difficult to summon.

A man with this much appeal was dangerous on a level she hadn't even contemplated. If he could have her setting aside logic with a mere kiss . . . The thought fragmented when he nipped at her lip. Re-formed as he soothed at the tender area with the tip of his tongue. Then he posed a risk she couldn't afford. And she'd given up her risky behaviors years ago.

With effort, she drew in a breath. Tried to s.h.i.+ft away. And found him matching her movement for movement without releasing her mouth.

Against her lips he murmured, ”Technically if we don't come up for air it's still only one kiss.”

He was nothing if not creative. His hand slid beneath her tank, and she jerked a little at the contact. His fingers spread against her skin, each digit an individual brand. And the sneaky little thought occurred that she could touch him that way, too. Her palms itched with the need to reciprocate.

She slipped her hand under his T-s.h.i.+rt and smiled against his lips when she felt his stomach muscles jump and clench beneath her touch. There didn't seem to be an ounce of spare flesh on him. Just hair-roughened skin layered over muscle. Peaks and hollows where bone met sinew. And she knew in a flash it had been a mistake to touch him this way. Each step brought a greater intimacy. And fueled the need for more.

His palm crept upward to cup her breast, and she could feel her nipple tighten as he brushed it, behind the lace of her bra. Senses seemed unbearably heightened. There was a growing antic.i.p.ation as if every nerve ending she had was poised, waiting for a deeper contact. At the same time Zach drew her bottom lip into his mouth and bit down, not quite gently. The dual a.s.sault sent little sparks of desire firing through her veins.

As their mouths twisted together, thought receded. There was only the taste of him, dark and faintly primitive. His hands, slightly roughened, that knew just how to touch. Just how to tease and tantalize until she strained against him, begging for closer contact.

And then his fingers slipped inside her bra to cover her breast, and excitement thrummed through her system.

Her movements lacked finesse as she bunched his s.h.i.+rt upward. Skated both palms over his chest, her touch softening when she felt the slight jerk of his body. Fingers skimming tenderly over the area that was probably already bruising. Her eyelids fluttered. But she couldn't drag them open to check. Pent-up need was pumping through her, lending a sense of urgency.

The urgency dimmed the alarm bells shrilling in her mind. Didn't still them completely. They were too well constructed for that. But muted them to a point that made it incredibly easy to ignore them altogether.

There was a surprising pleasure to be found here, pressed closely against him. To feel the leap in his chest when she sc.r.a.ped one of his nipples with her nail. To hear his breathing lose it's steady rhythm and grow just a little choppy. And to feel. G.o.d, to feel. His fingers drew her nipple to a tight knot of nerves that shot shocks of desire straight to her womb.

She was used to inspiring desire in men. Desire that had everything to do with how she looked rather than who she was. So there was no reason for the evidence of this man's desire to fill her with a thrilling sense of female satisfaction. No reason for it to amp up her need for him until it threatened to blur common sense. Blind her to consequences.

His thumb flicked her nipple. The sensual rhythm had her squirming on his lap. ”Been a long time since I made out in my car.”

She could feel every word formed beneath her lips. One kiss. She recalled the invitation. And he'd yet to relinquish her mouth.

”Do I stay or go, Cait? Your call.”

Everything inside her stilled. She was distantly aware that he'd frozen, too, as if in antic.i.p.ation of her response. Neither of them seemed to breathe while they waited for her response.