Secrets and Seduction: 5 Romance Novels (60 page)

“All the better for you, right?”

“I won’t say I’m not glad to see you.”

“Where’s your security?” Garrison asked, looking around.

“Dead. I hope the bomb killed him because I’d hate to think he burned to death like the innocent bystander did.”

“Damn,” Pollack swore. “The bomber’s got a serious hard-on for you.”

“Yeah. He’s either getting smarter or he knew I had a bodyguard who searched my car for bombs. He blew up the car next to us with enough explosives that we got caught in the chain reaction.” Bryce coughed.

The EMT eyed him. “You didn’t mention smoke inhalation. You really should let the hospital check you out.”

“No,” Bryce said firmly, waving him away. “The couple in the car next to us said something about car trouble.”

“So the bomber knows how to disable cars,” Pollack said. “And he had to watch to see when you got into your car.”

“Remote control,” Garrison agreed. “May still be around.”

“Long gone I’m sure,” his partner said.

Garrison glanced around, and then asked, “Are you and Miss Alafita okay?”

Bryce nodded.

“Nothing serious,” Ciara added. “But we could have died!” She shuddered.

The EMT laid a blanket around her shoulders. She pulled it tight. “This has got to stop! He’s going to get lucky and kill Bryce! And me.”

“The offer of the safe house still stands,” Pollack said.

“As much as running away appeals to me, how safe is it really?” Bryce asked. “How long until the bomber or his associates know I’m there? I’d be a sitting duck.”

Ciara’s face lit with excitement. “Bryce, I know a place you can hide!”

With Steele’s own spy?

“Miss Alafita, we can’t guarantee anyplace else,” Garrison said.

“But it’s perfect. No one would think to look for you there,” Ciara went on undeterred.

“I’m not going to Adam Steele’s house,” Bryce remarked a little acidly. He clenched his jaw against saying too much.

“Not his house. Mine,” she said in smug triumph.

“Your hotel is hardly private,” he scoffed.

“In Lansing.”

Bryce felt flummoxed. Pollack and Garrison looked at one another.

“No one would look for you there, that’s for sure,” Pollack said.

Lansing. Where Ciara kept her secrets. A house far from the bomber. A weekend of peace and quiet … alone with Ciara. As his thoughts tumbled one after the other, his heartbeat sped up.

“Yeah,” Bryce agreed. He looked up as the local police pulled in. “But only the four of us will know. No one else. No one at your office or mine. And not Adam Steele. Ciara and I drop off the face of the earth for the weekend. After we answer police questions, you can drive us home. I need some things from my house and Ciara needs her car.”

“Bryce, wouldn’t it be better if we left right from my hotel?” she asked.

“I can’t wear this all weekend, can I?” He waved at his suit. “Besides, if anyone is watching the Feds, they’ll expect me to go home.”

“That still leaves you unprotected from the time you arrive home from Lansing until you reach the courthouse Monday morning,” Garrison reminded Bryce.

“I’m sure one of Steele’s people will have my house staked out when I return home.”

“How do you know it won’t be someone sent to kill you?” Pollack asked.

“I’ll call Steele when I’m thirty minutes from my house.”

“Steele’s a smart man. What makes you think he won’t figure out Miss Alafita’s address in Lansing?” Garrison asked.

Bryce looked at Ciara. “I believe he’ll think I’m safe there.”

They finished outlining their plan, and then Bryce and Ciara gave their statements to the police. Pollack and Garrison drove them home, and within an hour Bryce and Ciara were speeding west through the inky blackness towards Lansing.

Ciara let Bryce into her Lansing condo and watched him look around the pristine, modern kitchen. Nerves fluttered in her stomach. They’d made the ninety-minute drive mostly in silence with the windows rolled down to scour away the smell of smoke. Now they had to speak to each other.

“I have a spare bedroom. No one ever uses it,” she offered.

Bryce turned and placed his hand on her arm. “I don’t want to sleep alone. I nearly died tonight. So did you.”

Ciara swallowed. Her heart raced like an Indy car. “I don’t want to sleep alone either.”

His serious blue eyes bored into hers. “We can just sleep if you want to. We’re both exhausted. We don’t have to make love.”

Oh God. As soon as he said the words her body came alive, her loins clenching with need. “I want to make love with you.”

Bryce smiled, the expression small and almost sad. “We need to shower.”

“And get our bandages wet?”

“Oh, right.” He looked at her bandaged hands. “This is going to be awkward.”

“Necessity is the mother of invention,” Ciara said. She locked the door to the garage, took Bryce’s hand and led him through her ranch-style condo to the master bedroom.

“Ladies first.” Bryce waved at the attached bathroom.

Ciara took her overnight bag into the bathroom. Damn, but she wished she’d known she was going to make love tonight. She wouldn’t have fallen on her hands, for one thing. She stripped off her smoky clothes, brushed her teeth, and tried to think of a way to wash without getting her hands wet.

Bryce knocked on the door. “Ciara? If you changed your mind, it’s okay.”

What?! Ciara snatched the door open and her mouth dried. Bryce wore only navy briefs that faithfully outlined his masculine attributes. And he had attributes!

“God, you’re perfect!” His voice was hoarse.

She remembered her own nakedness then, and remembered he preferred buxom blondes. But the erection straining his briefs told her he liked what he saw. Her nipples peaked in response.

Bryce reached out to caress one aching tip with his fingertips. The nipple furled tighter. “No, you didn’t change your mind.”

“I want to wash my face, and you know, but … ” She held up her hands.

He stepped into the bathroom, crowding her against the sink. Her flesh tingled everywhere it touched his warm, hard body. He reached past her to turn on the warm water, then he grabbed the washcloth she’d laid beside the sink and let the water soak it. He wrung it out and reached up to her face.

He paused. “May I?”

“Sure,” she choked out.

Gently he scrubbed her face with the warm washcloth, removing her make-up. What he saw now was the real thing. He studied her, and then rinsed the cloth. He washed her face again and her neck. She’d never had a man care for her or do anything personal like this for her. She felt … cherished.

Ciara looked up into Bryce’s heated blue eyes. His face was tight with desire. He rinsed the washcloth again and scrubbed it over his own face and neck. She watched with wonder as his strong, sure hands performed this ordinary task. His hands, face, and neck were masculine, his body tight with lean muscles that flexed smoothly as he moved.

He laid the cloth on the counter and stripped out of his briefs. His engorged cock sprang free. It was just as large and thick as she’d imagined. Her lower body clenched. She wanted it inside her.

Then Bryce washed them both intimately. Ciara didn’t know what turned her on more, his touch on her body or his taking care of her. When he reached for her she went eagerly into his arms. His mouth came down on hers. He tasted slightly mediciney. His firm lips ate at hers and she ravished his in return. She’d never had a man kiss her like he did, like he couldn’t stop.

Ciara pressed her breasts against his firm chest and her hips against his erection. He raised her onto her tiptoes and slid his cock between her legs.

She moaned into his mouth. He slid his cock back and forth along her increasingly wet folds, echoing the thrust of his tongue into her mouth. Their tongues dueled. His hands molded the curves of her bottom. She imagined him lifting her into his deep thrusts and her pussy clenched hard.

She broke the kiss to urge, “Fill me.”

“I want to do things to your body to make you beg.”

“Fill me,” she said. “We have all weekend to do the rest.”

Bryce looked intently at her and she stared back. She knew what he sought — that she wasn’t doing this just because they’d escaped death. That her mind was clear.

He nodded. “Next time then.”

Bryce pulled her into the bedroom, grabbed a condom from his overnight bag, and led them to her bed. Ciara helped him sheathe his cock in the latex. She pulled back the covers and then he pushed her onto the bed and followed her down.

When Bryce mounted her, Ciara’s nerves fluttered. This was Bryce Gannon, cold lawyer and possible mobster’s tool who preferred blondes and didn’t make lifetime commitments.

Her eyes must have betrayed her thoughts, for he halted.

Ciara looked into Bryce’s warm blue eyes and saw the man she’d worked beside for a week, a man who struggled against any sign of weakness, a man who valued control, a man with deep passion he kept locked inside. And she was in a perfect position to unlock it. She smiled.

“Was that second thoughts?” he asked quietly.

“There’s no going back once we do this.”

“No, there isn’t.”

She wrapped her legs around his hips. “Then what are you waiting for?”

“Yes, Counselor.”

Bryce pushed slowly but inexorably inside her. It had been awhile, so her body protested.

“You’re so tight. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Bryce pressed forward into her until finally she was filled. It felt so good she surged against him, driving him even deeper. She gasped.

“Again,” she begged.

He withdrew and surged into her again, which drew another gasp. Within a few strokes she had his rhythm and they thrust against one another over and over. The sound of their gasps and groans resounded in her bedroom as she and Bryce strained to give and receive pleasure.

Their bodies grew slick with sweat. Then she realized what Bryce was doing. He hadn’t lost control.

“Bryce, I’ve wanted to do this with you for a week.”

He jerked and stared at her. Only a thin circle of blue remained surrounding his darkened pupils.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about making love with you, how good it would feel.”

“I wanted you too,” he admitted. “And then you played basketball in that skirt. God, my pants were too tight.” He plunged harder.

“I want to muss your hair, to run my hands all over your body, and then use my mouth on you.”

“God!” He thrust so deep she screamed.

And then she was coming apart inside, spasming her release. He shouted with his, jerking rhythmically deep inside her.

Bryce collapsed onto her with a groan. Ciara enfolded him in her arms. She vowed he would never be able to come to her bed again and hold onto his control.

“About that mussing,” he murmured.

“Next time, I swear under oath.”

“We have a lot of next times.”

“We don’t have to get out of bed if we don’t want to.”

She was feeling decidedly relaxed and sinking into the mattress. They were safe and she had Bryce right where she wanted him.

“I don’t want to.” Bryce sounded sleepy.

“Me neither. How long do you need to recover?”

“Ask me later.”

“Hmm.” Thoughts were becoming harder. Bryce was a warm weight on her, his breath gusting past her bare shoulder. Her legs slid off his hips to land on the mattress. Later.

• • •

There were many laters and many next times. Bryce couldn’t stop discovering parts of Ciara he wanted to kiss, touch, lick, rub, or make love to. And how they made love! Except for Ciara running to the store for condoms and food, they barely left her bed Saturday.

He wasn’t a young man, but he only had to look at her to want her. She acted the same. This was stolen time, time when each of them ignored their obligations to other people and concentrated on each other.

Ciara was beautiful. He’d known it from the moment he saw her. But she was even more beautiful naked. And sexy. He realized that making love to her was more than sex. She’d gotten closer than any woman he’d dated. She’d made him think and feel things he hadn’t previously. He thought about having a wife he loved who loved him in return, one who was his equal in every way. He thought about having children he could play with, about having a legal partner. And he thought about being mussed — not just in sexual passion but also in passion for life. He’d been caged since the hazing in college. Maybe it was time he broke out and lived a little.

Saturday evening they ate grilled steaks and salad for dinner while the rain from the latest thunderstorm trailed off to a drizzle. Bryce had barely noticed the predicted storms roll through during the day. He felt pleasantly tired physically, but his mind needed exercise. And he needed some time with his oxygen tank.

“Do you mind if I work for a little while?” he asked.

Ciara started the dishwasher and looked up. “Are you tired of me already?”

Although her tone was light, he sensed something more serious underlying the question. He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her.

“Not tired of you. Just feeling my age. I need to recharge my batteries. For later.”

Ciara smiled, satisfaction and seduction mixed together. “Then by all means recharge.”

Bryce gave her another swift kiss and then retrieved the box of files from her car. He settled on her comfortable fabric couch with the box on the coffee table in front of him and his oxygen cannula on. He’d used the oxygen while she’d gone to the store, but hadn’t said anything to her about it. He braced himself for when she’d notice.

She hadn’t packed anything in her house and he hadn’t seen any boxes anywhere. Maybe she intended to let the movers handle everything, but it nagged at him. Everything was intact in the kitchen too. In fact, as he glanced around, it didn’t appear that anything was missing. What had she taken to the hotel?

A flash of red caught his attention as Ciara moved around the kitchen setting things to rights. Those red gym shorts made her legs look a mile long. He’d had them wrapped around him while they made love so he knew how long they really were. And that white tank top revealed rather than hid her breasts. She wore no bra and her dark nipples showed as shadows while the ribbed tank lovingly cupped the round globes. That shirt should be X-rated.