At Close Range (16 page)

“We didn’t fight,” Cassie corrected him. “I changed so we wouldn’t fight. I worked my butt off to be what he wanted, to keep the peace…until one day I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize myself anymore. I’d entered the program wanting to make it into the police academy, but I’d been spending so much time on Lee’s things that I’d let my grades slip. Only one academy was willing to take a chance on me because of my science background and my test scores, but it would’ve meant leaving Lee and I’d gotten to the point that I couldn’t even do that.”

“Because you loved him,” Seth said, his voice flat.

“No. Because I let him control me.” Cassie fisted her hands at her sides and began walking again, back toward their restaurant and the sounds of a mournful trumpet solo. She was aware of Seth walking at her side, though she spoke as much to the memories as to him. “I listened when he told me I wouldn’t be able to hack it at the academy, that I wouldn’t be able to manage without him. I almost believed it when he said I should be grateful for the junior instructor’s position he’d create for me.

I could work with him, he said, but he really meant that I could work for him, just like I did at home.”

Her feet dug deep, angry gouges in the sand. She wanted to run, but that would be giving Lee too much power, so she made herself walk while she continued the story.

“I moved away from home because I was tired of my brothers protecting me, tired of them scaring off boys who wanted to date me. Then what did I do? I hooked up with someone a hundred times more controlling, and I didn’t even see it. It took me eighteen months to get away from him, and another couple of years to really believe in myself, to be able to say that I’m good at my job.” She forced a laugh that broke around the edges. “Maybe I say it too often or too loud, but I’m working on that.

Slowly, but I’m working on it.”

They had reached the halo of light surrounding their restaurant, but Seth laid a hand on her arm and stopped her just short of the lit patch of sand. “Hold on a minute.”

She felt a shimmer of heat at his touch, a spark at the point of contact. “What?”

She expected him to continue the conversation, to argue that their situations were different, that he hadn’t wanted to control his wife, he’d only wanted to keep her safe. She expected more heavy conversation, though her soul already felt like it was dragging from the weight of their not-really-a-date. She expected another fight, or maybe the silence he was so comfortable with.

She never expected him to hold out a hand as the band next door swung into something slow and bluesy, and say, “Dance with me? Just once before we go back inside.”

They were quite a pair, Seth thought as she took his hand. She was trying to prove her worth to anyone who would listen, while he—

Hell, he didn’t know what he was doing anymore.

He held her close enough that he could catch her scent on the sea air, but not as close as he would have liked while they shuffled their feet in the clinging sand.

After a moment, she sighed as though giving in to something, closed the distance between them and tucked her head into the hollow between his shoulder and jaw.

Warmth, a possessive and terrifying sort of heat rose within him and he slid his arms around her, holding her, until they were barely swaying. The trumpeter swept a note high above the strings and held it as their mouths met and mated, their arms curled around each other and held on.

The kiss started out soft, almost experimental, as though neither of them quite believed in the heat. But the fire rose quickly, scorching him, consuming him, bringing them closer and closer together until he wasn’t sure where his flesh ended and hers began. He dragged his mouth to the hollow behind her ear and sifted his fingers through the long waves of her hair.

Her fingers dug into his back, then clutched in his shirt to pull it up and out of his waistband. Then her hands were beneath the cloth, stroking his back, his ribs.

Everywhere she touched, small embers ignited, a chain reaction of pleasure that nearly drove him mad.

He growled and kissed her again, a deep, wet, searching kiss that had her murmuring acceptance and crowding closer. Frustrated by the layers of clothing that separated them, he slid his hands down to span her waist.

And found it bare already.

The tails of her shirt were untied, granting him access to the warm, taut skin beneath. He slid his hand up, then higher still until he could—

A wolf whistle drowned out the last dying notes of the trumpet, and a man’s voice shouted, “Woo-hoo! You go, dude!” A babble of voices seconded the suggestion.

Seth cursed and tightened his hold on Cassie when she would have pulled away. He turned and glared at the group of college-age kids who were leaning on one another as they staggered up the beach to God only knew where. But he was just as angry at himself.

If the drunken revelers had managed to get the drop on him, their killer could have done the same at any damned moment.

Cassie tugged at his arm. “We should go.”

He wasn’t sure whether she meant because of the young men, who continued to shout uncreative suggestions, because of the threat of danger, or because their night was over. Knowing she was right on all three counts, he scooped her shoes from the sand, shook them out and offered them to her. She pulled the sneakers on, and they slipped around the side of the restaurant, not wanting to walk through the dining area and be reminded of their earlier awkward conversation or too-quick departure.

When she stumbled in the darkness, he took her hand for support and didn’t let go once they were back in the light. Heat thrummed from the point of contact, undimmed by the cool air moving beneath his untucked shirt. Instead of fading, the sensual excitement only climbed as he checked beneath the SUV—just in case—and helped Cassie into the passenger seat.

When he took the driver’s seat and started the engine, she sat quietly, but when he placed his hand on the console between them, she curled her fingers around his in a signal of agreement.

Acceptance.

When he parked at the motel, amidst the multicolored lights given off by the stained-glass lampshades, she waited for him to get her door and help her down, a rare concession for a woman he knew damn well could be as tough as any man on the job.

But she was all woman as she walked to her door, stopped, turned back—

And held out a hand in invitation.

HE THOUGHT ABOUT ARGUING. Cassie could see it in his eyes, feel it in her soul.

But the arguments didn’t seem to matter as much anymore. Not after their walk on the beach.

Not after that dance they’d shared at the edge between darkness and light.

So he took her hand without a word, without the obligatory are you sure? He waited while she unlocked the door and quickly checked the room, just in case.

All the while, she was aware of him watching her. Aware of the blood thrumming just below the surface of her skin, making the brush of her clothes nearly unbearable.

When she was sure there had been nobody in her room, that there was nobody in the closet, no ticking device beneath the bed, she locked the door behind them both, clicked off the light and turned toward him.

The outdoor light filtered through the curtains, splashing them with the soft, aching romance of stained glass. Both of them were breathing fast, as though they’d run to reach the place they’d gotten to.

And maybe, in a way, they had.

Once she was facing him, with no distractions to blunt the power of his presence, she faltered. Her pulse stuttered at the intensity of his eyes, at the sheer size of him.

Nerves were a sudden, unwelcome friend.

“I’m sure of this,” he said, surprising her because there was no question in his voice, no hesitation. “I don’t know what’s going to come of it, but this is right for me.” He swallowed hard. “It’s time for me to stop running in place, time to finish turning the studio into a gym and move on.”

The darkness cloaked them in intimacy, and a bird called outside, sounding like the last, fading note of a single trumpet. That memory, coupled with the need she had been trying to avoid for days—maybe months—sent Cassie forward until she and Seth were almost touching.

She looked up into his eyes and feared he would see the vulnerability when she said,

“I gave Lee too much power over me even after I left him. I’m ready to stop doing that.”

She wondered if he noticed that neither of them mentioned the other, neither of them mentioned wanting to be together, wanting to stay together. Maybe that was implied.

Maybe it simply wasn’t time for that.

They closed the final distance between them, meeting halfway as equals, as partners, and she found herself wishing they hadn’t been interrupted on the beach.

There, the fire had flared high between them, blunting rational thought and giving them the excuses. It was the heat of the moment. It was just sex.

But as their lips touched, hesitated and held, she knew neither of those excuses rang true anymore. There was heat, yes. Excitement warmed her, spread through her, igniting chain reactions deep inside as he slanted his mouth across hers and sought entry. There was charged electricity as he slid his big arms around her, cupping her bare waist beneath the untied shirt and sliding his thumbs to either side of her stomach, where want thrummed just beneath the skin.

But this wasn’t the heat of the moment anymore. This was an acknowledged decision, one that Cassie reinforced by opening her mouth to him, tangling her tongue with his and sliding her hands beneath his shirt and up his chest, where a faint dusting of hair was soft contrast to the hard muscle beneath. Yes, her hands and her mouth said wordlessly, I will be your lover tonight.

The heat rose higher as his fingers clamped on her denim-covered hips and she pulled his shirt off, leaving him gloriously bare above. She slid her hands up across the hardness of his biceps and the width of his shoulders, reveling in the feel of him, the strength of him. He muttered a dark promise and crowded her backward.

She expected to feel the soft mattress at her knees.

Instead, he pressed her against the wall and kissed her until her heart fought to break free of her rib cage. He slid his hands down to her thighs, just above her knees, and lifted her in one smooth, powerful move. Suddenly, their mouths and hips were perfectly aligned and her legs formed a pocket for him, allowing him to step forward and into her so his lower body held her aloft, allowing his hands freedom to roam.

His strength should have made her feel small and weak, but instead it made her feel powerful. Alive.

Greedy for more.

She went to work on his belt and the snap and zipper beneath, while their mouths met over and over again, giving and taking, then taking again. He undid the last few buttons on her shirt and unfastened the front-clip bra beneath. For an instant, she wished it had been dark lace rather than plain cotton, but his groan when he touched her, cupped her, caressed her, told her that dark lace would have been wasted on him.

It was the woman beneath who mattered.

That realization warmed her, reassured her, and she pushed his pants down over his hips, where they snagged on her legs and the place he had her pressed to the wall.

“Allow me,” he said between quick, deep breaths and long, slow kisses. And before she could brace herself, he’d scooped her up, turned away from the wall and moved to the dresser.

Seeing his intent, and approving with a startled flash of heat, she swept her arm across the surface, sending shells and coral flying. He propped her on the waist-high wood surface and kissed her, then stepped into the vee between her legs.

“Too many clothes,” she said when the kiss broke, and pushed him away so she could slide off the dresser.

Leaving her shirt and bra looped over her shoulders, she wriggled out of her pants, panties and shoes while he shrugged out of his pants, and went back for his wallet.

He held up a single packet. “I’ve only got one condom. We’ll have to make it worthwhile.”

She grinned and boosted herself back onto the dresser. “Bring it on.”

She didn’t mention that she had a couple of condoms in her overnight bag, packed because…hell, she didn’t know what she’d been thinking, but wasn’t it lucky that she had?

He sheathed himself and moved to face her. Their bodies were perfectly aligned, only touching where he placed his hands on her thighs and she pressed her palms against the hard planes of his chest. The light from outdoors gleamed down on them, frosting the wide line of his shoulders with blue and green, as though they were underwater.

Her heart pounded up into her throat when he leaned forward to kiss her, and stepped into her, until he was pressed at the entrance to her body, to her heart.

No, she told herself, even as she lifted her hands to frame his face as they kissed.

Not her heart. Her heart was safe. She would make sure of that.

But as he slid his hands behind her, that second excuse flitted through her mind.

It’s just sex.

She told herself that as he eased himself into her, filling her, stretching her until she felt as though it should have hurt but didn’t. She told herself it was just sex when her heart expanded in her chest, filling her to bursting, and he began to move within her, they began to move together.

She told herself it was just sex as the pleasure coiled within her, hard and ready and wanting. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders and closed her eyes, unable to watch the exquisite power of his face, the way his eyes had darkened in the blue-green light, the way they suddenly saw inside her.