Convictions (24 page)

He spun around to leave, but Olivia grabbed his arm with a surprisingly strong grip.

"What does that mean?" she demanded.

"What do you think it means?"

"I wouldn't be asking if I knew."

He glared down at her hand on his arm, and she released him.

"Tell me," she said through clenched teeth.

"I'm good enough to practice on, but can't let anyone find out Ms. Olivia Kincaid, big-city ADA, gets off on kissing a con," he said, keeping his voice low but intense.

First shock, then anger flushed her face. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that. Because if you think I could actually use someone like that, you don't know me at all."

Her voice shook.

"Then why do you care if Dawn catches us kissing? We're all adults."

Olivia stepped right up to him, her toes touching his. "Because I warned her to stay away from Barton." Her cheeks reddened. "And if she sees us together, she'll think I'm a hypocrite."

Barton had mentioned Olivia didn't want him and Dawn to see each other, so that part was the truth. But Hank didn't know if Olivia was sincere or if it was only a convenient excuse.

"So why don't you just take your own advice and stay away from me?" Hank asked, keeping this expression blank.

Olivia's gaze slid away. "Because I
am
a hypocrite. I don't want to stay away from you."

The angry pressure in Hank's chest eased away. He hooked his forefinger beneath Olivia's chin and raised it. She didn't fight him, but she kept her eyes downcast.

"It's okay, Olivia," he said, feeling awkward. "I'm sorry."

Finally, she looked at him, and a spark of defiance lit her eyes. "You should be. I don't become a hypocrite for just anyone."

Hank laughed, and the rest of his tension drained away. He put some distance between them so he wouldn't be tempted again. "Buck told me that Dawn spent time with Barton yesterday while we were in Walden."

A shadow filled the doorway. "So everyone thinks they have to babysit me?" Dawn's furious tone left no doubt she'd overheard him.

Olivia stepped toward her. "You told me you'd stay away from him."

Dawn had the chagrin to look away, and she stomped over to a counter to plop her handful of dishes down. "I'm old enough to decide who I see and who I don't." She glared at Hank. "You're a few years too late to start acting like a big brother."

"You never gave me a chance," Hank argued.

"Fuck you," she swore, startling him. To Olivia, she said, "I feel sick. I'm going to the house."

Like a tornado, she was gone, leaving an awkward void in her wake.

Hank rubbed his brow and said sarcastically, "That went well."

"She really does care for you," Olivia said.

Ten minutes ago he had believed Olivia. This time he wasn't so certain.

Chapter Seventeen

Although angry with Dawn for leaving her to take care of the dinner cleanup, Olivia didn't have the heart to go after her. It helped that Hank volunteered his services. Although he was more reticent than usual—most likely due to Dawn's hurtful words—Olivia was glad for his company. So she kept quiet, allowing him peace and space.

It was after eight when they finished. Olivia picked up the bowl filled with scraps for the barn cats and ushered Hank out of the dining hall.

"Do you mind if I walk you down there?" Hank offered.

She flashed him a grateful smile. "I'd like that."

Olivia limped across the yard, though she hardly noticed the dull ache in her knee. Either she'd grown accustomed to it, or her leg had gotten better. Or Hank's presence acted like an analgesic.

Hank Elliott—better than Tylenol.

She shook her head at the silly thought, wondering if she was more tired than she realized.

Since it was one of the longest days of the year, the sun was just beginning to slip behind the western peaks. Long shadows moved ahead of them as they approached the barn. Hank opened the door, allowing her to enter ahead of him, then he flicked on the light switch and closed the door behind them.

The scents of hay, horses, and leather mingled in the air, and a wave of nostalgia swept through Olivia. For a moment, she was seven years old again, currying her pony under her father's watchful eye.

A mother cat and her four kittens tumbled out of an empty stall and gathered around Olivia's ankles, bursting the bubble of memories. She set the bowl on the ground and grinned at the animals' antics.

Hank squatted down beside the cats, and his big hands were amazingly gentle as he petted them.

"Hey, don't be such a pig," he said with a smile as he lifted the fattest kitten up and away from the bowl. The animal meowed loudly in protest. Hank chuckled and set the squirming critter behind his siblings.

Olivia crossed her arms and leaned a shoulder against a support post. She smiled, enjoying Hank's rapport with the cats. Even if she hadn't know, it was obvious he had a soft spot for animals.

"You'd be a wonderful veterinarian," she said.

He snapped his head up, and his expression lost all the enjoyment and warmth she'd just witnessed. "Don't."

Instead of frightening her, his harsh tone saddened her. She squared her shoulders and met his glare. "Why not? Just because you got sidetracked for six years doesn't mean you can't go back to school when you get out."

His laughter's harsh ring should've bothered her, but she knew it was prompted by pain rather than anger.

"And how the hell would I pay for it? I have maybe a hundred dollars to my name. Every form I fill out, I'll have to put X in the box that asks if I've ever been convicted of a crime. Then I'll have to answer their questions. And by the time I'm done, nobody's going to let a convict onto their campus, much less loan me money."

"My father would help you."

He shook his head, and his spine stiffened. "I've never leaned on anyone in my life."

"Then maybe it's time you did."

Her soft words seemed to unbalance him, and some of his bitter anger faded. "You wouldn't understand, Olivia. You've always had your father to rely on. I don't have anyone." His tone was matter-of-fact rather than self-pitying.

"I've been on my own since I started college," she argued.

"But you always knew he was here." He paused and took her hands in his. He caressed her knuckles with his thumbs. "When you were assaulted, what did you do?"

She'd come home... to her father. "That's different."

His smile was a mixture of regret and sadness. "No, it's not." He took a deep breath. "You're going to get better, Olivia, and you're going back to Chicago to follow your dream. Don't waste your time worrying about me. I'll be fine."

Tears burned Olivia's eyes. "But—"

"I'll be fine," he repeated firmly.

Stubborn pride showed in the clench of his jaw and the firm line of his lips. Olivia didn't know if she wanted to smack the damned fool or kiss him. Her body made the decision before her mind, and she placed her palms on either side of his face and pulled his head downward. She pressed her lips to his, hungry for the taste and feel of him after the appetizer in the kitchen.

Hank reacted after only a moment of hesitation. Wrapping his arms around her, he tugged her close. His mouth opened to hers, and Olivia swept her tongue into his warm moistness. The lingering taste of coffee and his own unique flavor made her dizzy with desire.

His hardness pressed into her belly, stealing the breath from her lungs. She drew back, gasping with the powerful waves of need cresting through her, making her ache with hollow longing.

Panting, Hank rested his forehead against hers. He caressed her with firm strokes, his hands moving up and down her back, but not going below her waist. "So help me, if we don't stop now, I'm going to take you right here. Right now."

Olivia shuddered from his rough, husky tone. After what had happened to her she should've been afraid. He was taller, bigger, stronger than her. He could take what he wanted without asking... but she knew he wouldn't. Just as she knew he was no murderer. Despite his prison record and the corded muscles that flexed beneath her hands, he was a gentle, sensitive man.

Heat and passion flowed through her veins. Lowering her shaking hands to his shirt, she undid one button, then another and another.

Hank clasped her wrists. "Are you sure, Olivia?"

She raised her gaze to his smoldering hazel eyes and saw the fire he tried to tamp down. But she didn't want him to temper the fire. She wanted to be consumed by the flames that burned within him. "Yes. I'm sure."

Her acceptance snapped the last strand of his control. He growled and cupped her ass, then lifted her. Olivia wrapped her legs around him as Hank claimed her lips with near-savage intensity. She welcomed his powerful passion, eager for his hard heat that pulsed between them.

Hank carried Olivia to an empty stall lined with fresh straw and knelt down, never breaking their kiss. He laid her down gently, his knees straddling her thighs, and slid his hands beneath her rumpled sweatshirt. His fingertips skated over her bare skin.

She retreated from the kiss and gulped in needed air. Frantically grabbing the hem of her shirt, she jerked it upward, tossing it aside. Taking Hank's hands, she placed them on her breasts.

"Liv, oh, God," Hank murmured. He feared he might come in his shorts, something he hadn't done since he was fifteen and accidentally saw his best friend's older sister naked. Biting his lower lip to stall the inevitable rush, he molded his palms over the lace-covered flesh and rolled each nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Olivia arched upward as she panted beneath him. Hank leaned down, kissing her sculpted collarbone and following an imaginary line down to the tip of her breast. He sucked tenderly, felt the nipple pucker into a hard pebble beneath the moist lace. She thrashed beneath him, her hips pumping upward, rubbing his erection.

So close... He forced himself to kneel above her, high enough that her bucking pelvis couldn't touch him. Hell, even without the stimulation, he was damned close to the edge.

He unbuttoned the top button of her jeans and unzipped them, then waited. Olivia opened her eyes, which were filled with confusion and frustration.

"Why'd you stop?" she asked.

Hank stared down into the face that haunted his nights and made him wake hard and aching. "Last chance, Olivia."

He could see her comprehension in the widening of her eyes and the flaring of her nostrils. Instead of replying in words, she answered by pulling his shirt out of his waistband and lowering his zipper. She laid her hand against his erection, and only the worn cotton of his briefs lay between them.

Knowing even a slight motion of her hand would shatter what pitifully little control he had, he shifted away and removed Olivia's remaining clothing. God, he'd suspected her baggy clothes hid a trim body, but he had no idea how sexy the entire package would be. He nuzzled her pale thigh and her soft curls tickled his nose, as did her musky, feminine scent. He'd almost forgotten the perfume of a woman, the music of her soft moans and the silk of her skin. Throbbing with near-bursting desire, Hank removed his own clothing.

"Condom?" Olivia whispered.

The request should have broken the mood, but her husky voice only increased his arousal... if that were possible. He nodded. "My pocket."

He dug a condom out his jeans pocket, now glad that he hadn't turned them down from the prison health nurse. Trembling so much, Hank couldn't open the packet, so Olivia took it from him. He watched as the foil gave way and when her fingers touched him, he nearly climaxed. He turned away, unable to watch her slender fingers roll the latex over him.

"Now, Hank," she said, and he was glad to note her voice wasn't all that steady. "Please."

Hank wanted to go slow, but his body had been denied the pleasure of a woman for too long. He thrust into her, and her snug, slick heat surrounded him. His hips bucked once, and his control vanished in an abrupt, mind-numbing orgasm. He lay in a mindless heap as aftershocks rippled through him.

"Hank," Olivia said, close to his ear.

Humiliation washed through him.
Goddammit.
He'd come faster than a teenager who just discovered
Playboy.
"I'm sorry, Olivia," he murmured.

She stroked his hair with gentle hands. "Don't be. It was a compliment."

He could sense her smile and gathered his courage to look at her. There was no hint of ridicule or anger in her flushed face. "I feel like a stupid kid."

She laughed, and her breasts jiggled against his chest. A bolt of desire licked through his veins, and he was shocked to find he was ready for another round. But this time he vowed he wouldn't leave Olivia behind.

"I don't think you feel like a kid at all," she finally said, dragging a fingertip down the middle of his chest.

Hank was grateful for her understanding, and it only made him that much more determined to ensure she was satisfied this time. He captured her roaming hand and kissed each fingertip. She squirmed beneath him, and he gasped at the unexpected pleasure of her surrounding pressure and heat.

He eased out of her and replaced the condom with a new one. Glancing up, he saw Olivia watching him closely, her eyes dilated and surrounded by only a sliver of blue. A steamy smile teased her lips.

"Ready for another ride, cowboy?"

Her sultry voice and twinkling eyes made him throb. Even as an adolescent, he didn't remember being this horny. But then, Olivia's charms and the long years of enforced abstinence were a lethal combination.

For a long moment, he merely gazed down at her smooth, pale skin, small breasts, and the evidence between her thighs that she was a true blonde. "God, you're beautiful, Liv," he said.

Her cheeks reddened, but she replied saucily. "You're not bad yourself."

"Men can't be beautiful."

She arched a light-colored eyebrow. "I didn't peg you for the sexist type."

A knee on either side of her hips, he leaned down and kissed one corner of her mouth, then the other. "I can be very sexist," he whispered.