Fever (18 page)

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Authors: Joan Swan

BOOK: Fever
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Frustrated with both the lingering chill and his resistance, she pulled on his shoulder to roll him into her. “Hold m-me.”
“I am,” he snapped.
“Closer. I’m s-so cold.”
“Honey.” His voice dropped to a raspy growl. He slid a thigh between hers, wrapped his arm around her back and pressed their bodies together. “We can’t get a whole lot closer.”
She’d like to prove him wrong. Dammit. Only he was still resisting. And she just didn’t get it. She might not be a Swedish goddess like Hannah, but she wasn’t the Hunchback of Notre Dame, either.
She tightened her arms around him, soaking in his heat, revelling in the feel of him while the fire inside kicked up a notch. He smelled good, he felt good, he looked good. He was the only good thing in the moment. She couldn’t look ahead, couldn’t look back, or everything fell apart. All she could do was live right now.
He wanted her, too. There had been hunger and passion in their kiss earlier in the day. There had been ownership and control in the way he touched and maneuvered her body in his arms. There had been demand and need in that thick, heavy shaft pressed against her pelvis.
Her thoughts raised her body temperature, and closing that last bit of distance between them gained appeal by the moment.
There was no time left for second-guessing herself. She knew what she wanted and she was going to reach for it. Now.
T
WELVE
A
lyssa let her hand drift down Teague’s ribs, her fingers playing along each indentation as she kissed his chest. He groaned, a pained, frustrated sound. His hips rocked and pressed into hers. His erection was thick and hard and so damn hot. Now this was more like it. Alyssa absorbed the deep zing of pleasure pulsing through her core.
His fingers curved around her upper arm and pushed her back. His eyes skimmed her face and paused on her mouth.
Yes. Kiss me.
“What happened to that line in the sand?” he asked.
Damn you.
“What line?” She added pressure to the back of his head to bring him closer, craving the feel of his mouth.
His hand fisted in her hair.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
Her mouth parted in anticipation of the pressure of his lips, the swirl of his tongue.
But he pulled back instead of diving in. “You just went out in ten-degree weather to get away from me, remember?”
Why was he being such a pain in the ass? That throbbing shaft pressed against her leg made it clear he wanted her. He’d been in prison for years. But maybe he didn’t want to want her. Or maybe it wasn’t
her
he wanted at all. A familiar determination prompted her to slide the inside of her thigh along his. “I changed my mind, didn’t I?”
His brows dipped. “What?”
“I came back. That’s what I was doing when you found me. Coming back, not running.”
He continued to stare at her, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief to fear and finally to anger.
“Fucking A.” He released her hair and rolled his shoulder back so their bodies were still touching, but not in the most sensitive areas. With gentle pressure, he pushed her head to pillow it on his shoulder. “For a smart woman, that has to be the stupidest thing you’ve done so far.”
Her chest pinched. Anger rushed up to soothe the hurt of yet another rejection. “What? Running or coming back?”
“Both. Didn’t take you long to figure out you’d freeze or be eaten, huh?”
She wasn’t quite ready to declare her faith in his innocence. Not because she didn’t believe, but because she doubted he’d believe her. “Maybe I decided since you’re the one who created this mess for me, you should be the one to get me out of it.”
“I don’t know how the hell you expect me—”
“You’ll find a way. I’ll make sure of it.”
“I’m sure you’ll do your damnedest.”
“Have I told you lately what a jerk you are?”
“Not in the last hour, but I think it’s been implied from day one.”
A hard shiver came out of nowhere and racked her body. Teague tightened his arm around her shoulders and made a sweep down her arm with one big, warm hand.
She cuddled closer, his warmth finally settling in and easing her muscles. “I didn’t come back to fight with you.”
He didn’t respond, but the silence remained tense, as if all the unspoken issues between them sat like parrots on swings swaying above their heads.
Teague continued to stroke her back and arms, and she tried to think about something other than the way she felt pressed against the hard muscle of his chest, his ribs, his thigh. But every other topic that came to mind brought trauma. Her work, her future, her family.
Alyssa’s thoughts turned to the same topics for Teague, which brought a flood of questions, the first and foremost centering around this Kat—evidently the whole reason Alyssa was here in the first place. And the sudden realization that she might have very well been throwing herself at a married or otherwise committed man made her feel queasy.
Alyssa decided to drag the biggest parrot off its perch and start plucking feathers.
“You must really love her, this Kat.” She murmured the thought, wondering, maybe hoping, that was the reason he’d rejected her. “I mean, it takes a big man to, you know, overlook the fact that the woman he loves has been with another man or might love another man.”
Teague’s hand stilled. His body tightened. “It’s not like that.” His voice was oddly soft. Filled with an emotion that reached out and tugged at Alyssa’s heart. “And I do love her. More than I could ever explain.”
Not like what?
was the real question she wanted to ask, but she already sensed he was shutting down. “Does she know how much you’re risking to get back to her?”
“That doesn’t matter.” His tone took on a determined edge. “All that matters is that we spend the rest of our lives together.”
Alyssa’s eyes floated closed. She would have to get stuck with the best-looking man around who still had morals after being imprisoned for three years. She thought of his conversation with Luke. Teague had threatened to kill himself if his freedom was placed at risk. What would he do if Kat rejected him?
“Will she be there when you get wherever it is you’re going?” she asked.
His fingers increased the pressure over her shoulder blade, then released. “She’ll be there.”
The surety, the finality, the forceful determination in his voice made Alyssa pull back and look up at him. The firelight cast shadows over the planes of his face, making him look fierce in the sexiest way.
“Teague.” She waited until he tilted his chin and looked at her. “You have to be prepared for the possibility that she doesn’t want the same things you want. It’s been a long time.”
His eyes glazed over as if he was remembering, then hardened with resolve. “She wants to be with me. I have no doubts about that. We love each other—unconditionally.”
Unconditionally
. Envy niggled deep in Alyssa’s psyche. The only person who’d ever loved her to that degree, had been her father. But somehow her mother had always interfered with that love.
Alyssa closed her eyes, shutting out the ever-present source of disillusionment. She shifted closer to Teague, feeling warmer by the moment.
“She must be something,” she murmured. “Two men who love her enough to fight for her.”
Teague’s hand lifted to Alyssa’s head and stroked down her hair, then paused at the ends to twirl a lock around his fingers. The gesture was so sweet, it sent uncomfortable mixed messages considering the conversation.
“Are you going to marry her?” She dreaded the answer, but had to know. “I mean, after going to these lengths to get back to her, you must be planning on marrying her, right?”
 
Teague had known this would happen. It hadn’t taken long to realize Alyssa’s curiosity would bring them to this subject.
He breathed a frustrated sigh and pulled away from her. He couldn’t take it anymore. Her body was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen and every time he closed his eyes, he saw it again as he’d undressed her. With all that luscious skin and those perfect curves pressed against him, he was about to go insane.
Not to mention her advance. The warmth of her lips on his chest, the slide of her leg over his, it was enough to make him come in his shorts. Now she was pushing about Kat, and the two thoughts combined brought up too much frustration to bear. Then there was the fear she’d unearthed—one he’d kept buried somewhere deep and dark—that Kat wouldn’t want him when he came for her... . He planted his feet on the floor and stood.
“Wait,” she complained from the sofa. “Don’t go.”
He glanced back to find her reaching for him. And Jesus-God-Almighty she was so beautiful. And so naked. And warm. And soft. And ...
fuck
. It took everything he had to turn away and crouch in front of the hearth to fiddle with the fire.
Part of him wished she’d just kept going, escaped tonight and gone back to where she belonged. But another part of him ached at the thought of her absence. And, logistically, it was too soon. He needed her to stay quiet a while longer so he could follow through with his plans. But, hell ... keeping her close under these circumstances ... Yeah, complete hell.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t mean to upset you. I just want you to realize that things may not go your way.”
“That’s an interesting comment coming from you.”
“Don’t get all pissy. I’m worried about what you’re going to face when you see her again. I’d rather not have to witness you getting your heart broken or have to deal with the fallout.”
“When did you turn into Miss Compassion?”
“You know I’m right. You’ve considered the possibility or you wouldn’t be so defensive.”
He looked over his shoulder. She was still turned on her side, huddling beneath the blanket, her tousled black hair spilling everywhere, those light eyes sparking with what had become a familiar look of determination.
Teague didn’t want to think about the repercussions of failure when it came to getting Kat back, because if it didn’t happen, there was only one option, and the thought of putting a bullet in his brain wasn’t particularly appealing.
“Kat’s my flesh and blood. She’s my daughter. She belongs with me. Period. I
will
get her back.” He turned back to the fire and tossed on three more logs.
“D-daughter?” she squeaked. “She’s your
daughter
?” The shock in her voice made a grin turn the edges of his mouth. “You have a daughter? How old is she? Why does whoever this Luke is have her? And where the hell is your
wife
?”
His grin dimmed to a bitter smirk. Those inevitable questions were exactly why he’d avoided the subject. He heaved a breath, pushed to his feet and turned back toward the sofa. Each time she looked at him, her gaze traveled over his body with such hunger. Hunger that in turn brought the lust he’d been harboring to the surface.
When her eyes reached his face again, she veiled them. “
Are
you married?”
He thought of Suzanna. She’d been gone so long now, he sometimes believed she was a figment of his imagination.
“No, I’m not married, but I
am
tired. And I don’t want to be peppered with questions.”
She pushed herself up on her elbow. The blanket slipped off her shoulder and dipped at her chest. Teague told himself to look away, but didn’t. Couldn’t.
“You can’t just dump that bombshell and expect me to accept it,” she said. “You’ve put me through a hell of a lot the last couple of days. The least you can do is tell me
why
.”
“Playing the guilt card,” he said. “That’s good.”
She lowered her chin and glared at him, then sat up, swinging her feet to the floor, holding the blanket up around her chest. Her dark hair fell over her forehead, skimmed her cheeks, drifted down her shoulders.
Teague’s fingers curled into his palms. He wanted her so badly, she eclipsed all rational thought. He’d bet she’d be a fireball in bed. A woman who gave as much as she took. He pictured sweeping passion and erotic satisfaction. And she was five feet away, completely naked and willing. Even inviting.
And that would be a really stupid move. If he started something with this woman, he was well aware there would be consequences—mind, body and soul. Yet ...
The ring of the phone startled him back from the edge of fantasy. A streak of panic shot through his chest as he turned toward the kitchen, where an old rotary hung on the wall.
The phone rang again. Not the kitchen phone. Teague swiveled toward the sound, but the ring traveled with him. His jeans. The pocket of his jeans. The cell?
“Aren’t you going to answer it?” Alyssa asked.
He dug into his pocket, pulled the phone out and looked at the display, which read “private caller” with no number. He picked up the gun and went to the front door, tilted his head and listened. No voices, no crunching footsteps, no car engines. With the phone still ringing in his hand, he cracked the front door and peered through the inch-wide space. Nothing but blackness beyond the porch.
He exhaled, long and slow, closed and relocked the door. Then he punched the answer button on the cell and put it to his ear, but didn’t speak.
“Teague?” Seth’s voice drained all the remaining tension from Teague’s shoulders. “You there?”
“How did you get this number?”
“It’s called caller I.D. It was in effect long before you went to prison.”
Yeah, but Teague had thought the number on a throwaway cell was blocked. “Who else knows I called you? Who else has this number?”
“No one, shithead. You think I ran around the neighborhood telling everyone that I’m taking Kat to see her escaped convict father?”
Teague closed his eyes on the rush of excitement, his anxiety from moments before forgotten. He could almost feel Kat’s warm little body against his chest, her arms wrapped so tightly around his neck she choked off his air, just like the last time he’d seen her in the prison visitation room. “When and where? I’ll be there.”
“Tomorrow,” Seth grumbled. “I convinced Tara I needed a little time alone with Kat before ... before ...
fuck
.”

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