Hard to Handle (11 page)

“Hmmm.” Her eyes narrowed. “The thing is, with you, I get the feeling you aren't playing.”

He shrugged. True enough, he'd always filled the role. “Anyway, we're not stripping down for pleasure, but for survival. So off with the duds.”

“That was better, but only by a little.” She glanced at the bathroom. “I opt for privacy, thank you.”

“If you insist.” Harley handed her the thick socks and the sweatshirt that she'd mostly kept dry inside her coat. He opened the bathroom door. “I'll be out here, rounding up some food.”

“Aren't you getting undressed, too?”

“Down to my boxers, yeah.” He nudged her into the smaller room. “Make use of the toiletries if you want. They're mine, so no garage grease.”

“Thanks.”

Harley shut the door for her and walked several paces away. The room was small enough that he could hear her rustling movements, the flush of the toilet, the running of water.

He pulled a table over by the lounge chair and set both guns there. He retrieved a variety of food from the vending machines and, with a modicum of effort, managed to finagle two Cokes, too.

With everything arranged, he looked around the room. As he'd thought: they'd be comfortable enough.

If Anastasia would just stop hiding in the bathroom.

S
HE
should never have insisted on sitting alone in a different chair. She knew Harley was annoyed with her, and damn it, she couldn't blame him. It was too cold for modesty, and too scary for independence. Except for the howling wind and the occasional “settling” noise typical of all buildings, silence filled the station.

But two people had chased her down, run her off the road with harmful intent. They'd carried guns.

To shoot her?

She couldn't stop thinking about it, and every small squeak had her fearful of their return.

Sitting safely in Harley's embrace had been almost too tempting to resist. But the sweatshirt she wore only hung to her knees, and the socks covered her feet and ankles. Not much leg showed between the two, but she was without pants, and worse, so was Harley.

When she'd stepped out of the tiny, grease-smudged bathroom, she'd found him in his boxers again. He wore thick socks that matched hers and his thermal shirt, which was barely damp.

All in all, he looked like a macho ad for men's underclothes.

The one flashlight left everything in deep shadows.

Intimate. Seductive—despite the circumstances.

Or maybe because of them.

With her sitting at the table, wrapped in the blanket, and him on the lounge chair, oblivious to his state of undress, they'd eaten the pilfered snacks in near silence.

All the while, Stasia felt him looking at her in that quiet, introspective way of his. She was morbidly aware of the two guns, one on the table near her, the other right next to Harley's hand.

When they finished with the food, Harley suggested they get some sleep. And because of her insistence, they'd bedded down for the night in separate chairs.

Nearly an hour had passed, or so she guessed. She didn't have a watch and couldn't see the clock in the room. Harley hadn't said much after failing to talk her into the lounge chair with him. She sat in the straight-backed chair, wrapped in the blanket, her head resting on her folded arms on the hard table.

She was such an idiot.

“Did you recognize either of those two men?” he suddenly asked.

The sound of his voice, after nothing but muted breathing, further jangled her nerves. “No.”

“Me either.”

Outside, the wind whistled. Ice crackled. Tree branches groaned.

“I don't suppose you caught their license plate number?”

She shook her head, knew he couldn't see her, and asked, “Did you?”

“No. But it was an older model Ford with extended cab.”

“It was?”

“Yeah. Had a roll bar and off-road lights. I'd say maroon, or maybe black. Hard to tell in the night.”

Stasia marveled at his attention to detail. “I can't believe you noticed all that.”

“I can't believe I didn't get the damn plate number. That's what we really needed.” He fell silent again.

She would have preferred that he talk. At least then she didn't dwell on her own grim fears. “It's really eerie in here, isn't it?”

“It's dry and safe.”

“Yeah, but…eerie too, with the howling wind and the stillness in the air. And I swear, I hear bugs crawling around.”

“Stasia.”

Something in the way he said her name gave her pause. “What?”

“Enough already. I can hear your teeth chattering.” His tone gentled. “Come here.”

She didn't know what to say to that. She was so cold, there wasn't anything she could do about her chattering teeth.

“Look.” He half sat up and turned toward her. “If it'll reassure you, you're not even my type.”

“Is that so?” Now why did that insult her?

“And if you were,” he continued, “there isn't time enough and the conditions aren't right enough for what I'd want to do. With you.
To
you.”

Now Stasia sat up. Eyes wide, she stared toward Harley's voice. His body was a bulky shadow without details. “And that would be…what?”

He was silent a moment, then finally said, “Come over here and I'll tell you.”

He'd given her an easy way out of her stubbornness. She wanted to be near him, warm and safe. She wanted comfort from her awful memories.

“Fine.” Creeping carefully, Stasia felt around until she reached him, then stood beside the fully reclined padded leather chair.

Harley pushed away the shirts he'd used as a covering, unwrapped the blanket from around her, and said, “Crawl on in and get comfortable.”

“God.” Stasia did just that, sprawling out over him, her head on his big hard shoulder, her arm around his muscled abdomen. Heat, scented with Harley's unique smell, radiated off him in comforting waves. It felt so good that she moaned.

Harley shifted a bit, making more room for her, tucking the blanket around them both. His mouth touched her ear. “Better?”

“You feel like heaven.” As the warmth sank into her, sleepiness followed. She gave a huge yawn. “I'm sorry, Harley, but I'm exhausted.”

“I know. Go on to sleep.”

“Oh, no you don't.” He'd roused her nosiness and she wouldn't be able to get a sound sleep without an explanation. “Not until you tell me what it is you'd want to do.”

His fingers sifted through her hair. “You sure you want to have this conversation?”

“By the second, my curiosity grows.”

Tender and lulling, his hand continued to move over her head, smoothing her hair, massaging her scalp. “All right then.” He put a kiss to her forehead. “If I had you the way I want you, you'd be stretched out naked on a bed, wrists tied and thighs open, so I could have you at my leisure.”

Tied?
Stasia went rigid—with mixed emotions.

She wasn't afraid.

Harley might be a mixed martial arts fighter, used to bloody battles, but he didn't brutalize women.

So he had a bondage fetish? Interesting.

The visual wasn't actually displeasing. In fact, something inside Stasia heated and curled in scandalous delight.

But her independent nature rebelled at the idea of any form of helplessness. She shook her head, refusing him—and herself. “Forget it, Harley. That's not going to happen.”

His fingers continued the magic in her hair. “A challenge? Not a good idea, babe.”

She bit her lip. “I know you wouldn't…”

“Force you?” He shook his head. “No, never.”

“I was going to say coerce.”

“Not even that. As you already claimed, I don't take advantage of women in bad situations. And I suppose you could call this situation bad.”

She jerked her head up to see him. “You wouldn't?”

His shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I hate it that you're spooked, and with good reason. You're out of your element, and I know you're worried. But I'm not going to let anything happen to you.”

“So much confidence.”

He shrugged again. “The thing is, the idea of having you has been tempting me for a while now. I've been fighting it, but it's not easy. And accepting a dare could hardly be called coercion, now, could it?”

Suspicious, titillated, Stasia frowned and asked, “You've done this before, then?”

“This?”

“The whole bondage thing?”

“I've done it before.”

Unbelievable. And strangely exciting.

She heard the smile in his tone when he asked, “I've shocked you?”

“A little maybe. You're so blatant about it.”

“Well, don't start trying to analyze me. It's all simple enough.”

Only Harley would make such a ridiculous claim. “How so?”

“There's a lot in my life that I can't control.” He paused, then said matter-of-factly, “Missed opportunities for the title belt most of all. And no, I'm not going into that right now.”

“Everyone has things that happen unexpectedly, things that go against their plans.”

“Maybe. I don't like it.” He kissed her earlobe. “So when it comes to sex, I enjoy taking complete control. Not only over myself, but over a woman, too.”

“Are you trying to convince me?”

“Circumventing questions, if I can.”

“Well, that's not working.”

She heard his grin when he said, “If a woman makes her interest known, I explain up front what I want.”

Very blatant! “The way you're doing with me?”

“Yes.”

“And women
agree
?”

He leaned close to her ear again, teasing her. “They beg for more.”

No way. She started to sit up, but Harley levered just enough of his weight against her to hold her still. “Don't rush off again.” His voice was low, seductive, and vaguely amused. “You've just stopped shivering.”

“But you're saying women—”

“Love a little helplessness.” His fingers teased over her cheek, her shoulder. “Especially when I make it worth their while.”

“I'm…speechless.” And shamefully, she admitted to herself, a little turned on. She thought of gossip she'd overheard from vacationers in the grocery store, how they'd complimented Harley, called him controlling…But she hadn't realized, and now that she did…Good grief.

Did he really do it to balance his life, to take charge of what he could? Or did he just plain enjoy a little dominance over women? He didn't strike her as the type. In fact, she'd always thought Harley would appreciate shared pleasure.

Fracturing her thoughts, he whispered, “You have no idea what I could do for you, Anastasia.” And then his voice went rougher still as he added, “Or how much you'd enjoy it.”

Oh, she believed him. Even now, just from the teasing of his breath, tingles ran up and down her arms and over her nape.

Temptation beckoned…

But some things couldn't be changed overnight.

She drew a breath. “You're right, Harley. I'm not your type.”

“Somehow, that's not mattering so much anymore. Maybe because I think you don't know yourself well enough to make that judgment. Or maybe because, at this moment, I just don't care.”

She turned her face up, trying to see him in the dark. “So if I was interested in you, but not in…the whole domination thing, you wouldn't turn me down?”

His arms went around her. His nose touched hers. “Hard to say, honey. The thing is, I don't believe in half measures.”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

His smiling mouth touched hers, turned for the brief touch of a kiss, and eased away again—but not far. “Want to make me an offer and we'll find out?”

She considered it. It was incredible, but…this one night would never happen again. In the morning, help would come and Harley would leave town.

Tonight, stranded alone together with the excuse of fear and cold…she
could
say yes.

Who would know, or fault her?

Before she could make up her mind, Harley put a hand to her jaw and held her face still beneath his. “Understand, Anastasia. I'm talking about one night. This night.”

“I know.” She had no illusions about a future with him. He was not a man ready to settle into a relationship. And why should he, when women chased him?

“Tomorrow I leave and that's that.”

“I know.” He had a fighting career and intended to be champion in his weight class. His priorities didn't include a significant other.

“I have no intention of getting overly involved with any woman.”

“So you've said.” Her brain churned over the possibilities. It was dark, cold, silent. The proverbial “morning after” would be rife with rescue attempts and explanations about the attack, keeping awkwardness at a minimum.

“Anastasia?”

“I'm thinking about it.”

He made a rough sound, part frustration, part growling need. “That's your answer, then.” Turning to face her in the chair, he pinned her down with one heavy thigh.

The position was far more comfortable than she'd imagined while sitting alone at the table. “I said I was thinking about it.”

“Yeah. And that's more encouragement than I needed. So I suppose, yes, I'd be interested, even without restraints. But just for one night.
This
night.”

“Don't beat it into the ground, Harley. I get it.” Her mind made up, Stasia slowly wrapped her arms around his neck. She could feel his erection, already full against her.