If You Hear Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense (22 page)

“You’d be surprised at the things you can learn about people when you don’t rely on what you can see.” She shrugged. “But there wasn’t really anything complicated about this … it just sounds like something a woman would do, you know?”

He rubbed his thumb along the inside of her wrist. “Why a woman?”

“It’s manipulative.” Lena grimaced and shrugged. “That sounds terrible, I know, but it just sounds … well, like a female ploy. No great psychology feat there.”

He was still stroking her wrist and it was doing mad things to her pulse. Lena disengaged as casually as she could and made her way over to the couch, sitting back down. Even getting away from him didn’t help much. Damn it.

He was getting to her, way too fast, way too much.

No wonder he’d pulled back.

“I can’t say I don’t understand, but you shouldn’t let what she did tear you up so much, Ezra. You deserve better than that,” Lena said quietly.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Ezra muttered.

“Sorry. You’ve already got me thinking you’re a nice guy. You’re stuck with it.”

“A nice guy.” Pushing aside the dark thoughts, or trying to, he turned around and studied her. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that, beautiful.”

Crossing the floor, he sank down on the ottoman in front of the couch and studied Lena. Nice guy? If he was a nice guy, would he be sitting there and mentally undressing her?

As she shifted on the couch, one of the straps of her tank top drooped down over one shoulder. Through the thin, white cotton, he could see the dark circles of her
nipples all too clearly and if he was a nice guy, if he was any kind of gentleman, he’d put some distance between them and stop staring at her.

Screw being a nice guy. Screw being a gentleman.

“Are you so sure I’m a nice guy, Lena?” he asked, hoarsely.

“Ahh …” She wiggled around on the seat and then lifted a hand, tugging the strap of her tank top back up.

Under the material of her shirt, her nipples were hard, peaked and pressing against the fabric. His mouth was all but watering.

“You’re staring at me again,” she said, softly. She blushed and folded her arms over her chest, hiding those small, round breasts from his view.

“How can you tell?”

She scowled and hitched a shoulder up. “I just can. I can feel it—don’t tell me you’ve never had the feeling that somebody was looking at you, even if you couldn’t see them.”

“I’ve had that feeling plenty. Does it bother you?”

She licked her lips and he muffled a groan, watching that pink tongue slide over her lips and wishing she’d do that to him. She could lick any damn thing she wanted on him.

“I’m not sure,” she said, and her voice was hesitant. She nibbled on her lower lip. “If we were really just friends, it would probably confuse the hell out of me, because I don’t have too many friends who stare at me the way you seem to.”

“I sure as hell hope not.” He wanted to see her eyes. He didn’t give a damn that she couldn’t see him, he needed to see her. Needed to look into that blue-ice gaze. “I’ve got to be honest here … I really, really planned on giving the ‘friends’ thing a try, but I don’t think it’s going to take.”

Her breath hitched in her throat. “It doesn’t seem to be taking very well, does it?”

“I don’t want to be your friend … or at least I don’t want to be just your friend.” Reaching out, he laid a hand on her leg, just above her ankle. She tensed, but didn’t pull away. “Does it bother you that I like to stare at you?”

“If I said yes, would you stop?”

He flexed his hand, traced his thumb along the back of her foot. “Yeah. It would take some work, but I’d quit.”

“What if I said I didn’t want you touching me?”

He tensed. His stomach knotted, something ugly and bitter burning in the back of his throat. Slowly, he pulled his hand away and stood up. Hell, was he really that screwed up in the head that he’d been reading her wrong?

“Then I’d quit.” The burn of hunger that had boiled inside him from the first time he’d seen her turned to ash, left him feeling cold inside. Yeah, he wanted her. Thought she’d wanted him back—he’d acted on the belief when touched he her, but now he had to wonder—

Fuck. Just get the hell out, okay? Made a big enough fool of myself already
. His leg felt a hell of a lot stiffer than it had a few minutes ago and he scowled, listening to the sound of his own footsteps as he headed out of the living room.

“Ezra.”

He paused in the doorway and looked back. She was still sitting on the couch, her face turned toward him. She was blushing, that soft pink glow along her cheeks, down her neck, disappearing under the low neckline of her tank top.

He tore his eyes away, made himself stop looking, even though he couldn’t keep himself from wondering just how far down that blush went. “What?” He stared at the door, hands fisted inside his pockets.

“I didn’t say I don’t want you touching me. I just asked what you’d do.”

Slowly, he turned around. Narrowed his eyes.

She straightened on the couch and then slid her legs down, rose to her feet with that slow, easy grace. Ezra watched as she reached for her dog and rested a hand on Puck’s head, murmured something too low for Ezra to hear. The dog settled on the floor, resting his head on his paws as he watched his mistress.

Ezra watched her, too. Hell, he couldn’t take his eyes off her as she walked toward him. He tensed as she stopped just a breath away—literally just a breath. He could feel the warmth of her skin, see his own reflection in the dark glasses she used to shield her eyes. “If I didn’t want you touching me, believe me, you wouldn’t have gotten in the front door,” she said. “The friends thing was your idea in the first place, not mine. Remember?”

His mouth went dry as she reached up and, with unerring accuracy, laid a hand on his chest. “So does that mean I don’t need to stop staring at you?” he asked and his throat was so damned tight he could barely breathe.

“Stare all you want.” She slid her hand higher, toyed with the neck of his T-shirt. “I want to know what you look like … can I?”

“You can do anything you want.”

If anybody had told him that having a woman touch his face could be that damned erotic, Ezra would have laughed.

That was until Lena Riddle put her hands on him, tracing the line of his lips with her fingertips, doing the same with his jawline, along his cheekbones, feathering across his eyes and nose.

She took her time with her tactile exploration of his face, combing her fingers through his hair, even tracing his ears with her fingertips.

Every single touch, every single stroke, seemed to arrow straight down his spine, striking him square in the balls.

Damn it, he hurt. His cock was rigid, painfully hard,
and he was ready to do damn near anything if it would get her to wrap those soft, cool fingers around him. He was all but shuddering with the need to touch her, taste her.

By the time she finished and lowered her hands to his shoulders, Ezra was strung tight and hovering on the edge of his control.

“What color are your eyes?”

“Green.” His voice was hoarse, tight. Hell, he was so damned turned on, it was a miracle he could even speak. Reaching up, he caught her glasses and tugged them off, setting them on the small table just inside the doorway. “I want to see your eyes.”

She averted her gaze but he reached out, caught her chin in his hand, and tugged until she was once more facing him. “You’ve got the prettiest damn eyes,” he said, staring into the pale blue. He closed the scant inches between them and angled her chin upward. “I want to kiss you … if that’s a problem, then do me a favor and just tell me no, right now.”

A grin flirted with her lips and she swayed closer. “Not a problem. Not at all. Unless of course you plan on deciding in a few hours you’re not sure you really want to try this thing out, after all.”

Ezra nuzzled her mouth. “Hmmm. Not going to be an issue, although I think it’s time I apologized. I’m sorry about that. Seriously. Could we maybe rewind and just start over? Try it again?”

“No … no do-overs.” She raked his lower lip with her teeth. “I get why you pulled back. It makes sense. Just make sure you really want to go forward before we … do whatever.”

“I’m sure. Damnation, I can’t get you out of my head, Lena. You’re everywhere.” He cupped her face in his hands, angling her head back. “Can’t stop thinking about you, not from the first time I saw you.”

“Hmmm. Well, that’s pretty much mutual … now why don’t you stop talking and kiss me already?”

Anything else she might have said was muffled against his mouth. She moaned and he swallowed the sound down, licked her lips, demanding that she open for him. She did and he shuddered as her taste hit his system with supernova force. It was like kissing the damn sun, blistering hot but so damn sweet. Growling against her lips, he hooked a hand over the back of her neck and tugged her closer.

She came willingly, sliding her arms around his shoulders and plastering that long, perfect body against his. He rested his free hand on her hip and just barely managed to keep from rocking his hips against her, cuddling his aching dick against her belly. Before he could give in, he stroked upward, tracing the line of her waist, up, up until the heel of his hand stroked over the outer curve of her breast. She caught his hand, but instead of tugging it away, she pressed him against her.

Tearing his mouth away from hers, Ezra rested his brow against hers. “Damn it, Lena. Are you trying to kill me?”

She smiled and arched against him. “No.”

“You should be more careful,” he rasped, torn between the need to just keep right on touching her and his muddled thoughts—too quick. Moving too damn quick, but damn if he didn’t want to just go with it, ride it out … ride her.

She shrugged and stroked a hand down his chest. “I usually am.” She laughed softly as she slid a hand under his shirt, resting it just above the waistband of his jeans. “I’m usually a lot more careful than this.”

He believed her. “Good.” Then he grabbed the waistband of her shirt and shoved it up, baring her breasts. “I’m usually a fucking Boy Scout … fuck, Lena. You’ve got the prettiest damn tits. Hell, everything about you—so damn perfect.”

Stooping over, he caught one swollen pink tip and sucked it into his mouth. She cried out and dipped her hands into his hair, holding him tight. “Ezra …”

He growled against her, using his tongue to push her nipple against the roof of his mouth, drawing on her flesh and shuddering as her taste flooded his senses. She tasted like peaches, too. Ezra loved peaches. He rested his hand on her hip, easing it lower and lower, under the waistband of her pants to find her naked under them. Swearing, he tore his mouth away and rasped, “You’re not wearing any underwear.”

“Wasn’t exactly expecting company.” She tugged on his hair, trying to guide his mouth back to her breasts.

Ezra wanted to do just that, bury his face against those small, plump mounds, fill his hands with the subtle curve of her ass. He wanted to strip her pants away and push her thighs wide, press his mouth against her pussy and see if she tasted as sweet there as he thought she would. But his control was already damned shaky and if he was going to stop, now was the time. Slowly, although it damned near killed him to do it, he stopped touching her and forced his hands down to his sides. “We need to stop now.”

“Why?” she asked, leaning against him. “You didn’t go and change your mind on the friends thing again, did you?”

“Yes … no. Shit. I want us to be friends—yeah. Just want more than that, too, and this is rushing it and if we don’t stop now, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop later.” He pressed his mouth to her neck, raking his teeth along her skin. “You’re killing me.”

She smiled. He could feel it against his chest, feel the soft kiss of her breath drifting over his flesh. “I don’t want to stop,” she whispered. “It’s just getting fun.”

Then she reached between them and tugged on the button of his jeans. “I don’t want to stop,” she repeated,
freeing the button and then catching the tab of his zipper and easing it down.

Ezra swore as she slid her hand inside his jeans, inside his underwear and closed her fingers around his dick. “Damn it, Lena. You’ve known me for a few weeks. That’s it.”

She pressed her lips to his chin. “I know enough. I know that my dog likes you. I know you’ve got one of the sexiest voices I’ve ever heard. You don’t seem to feel the need to hold my hand or cut my food because I can’t see and you don’t seem to care one way or the other about that, either.” Her lips, soft and warm, brushed along his jawline, then down his neck. “I know that you got pissed at yourself because you touched me and you thought I didn’t want you touching me … and you would have left me alone, as quick as that. And that right there says a lot about you, Ezra King. It says a whole helluva lot.”

He shot a hand into her hair and tugged, guiding her face up so that he could stare down at her. He caught her hand, and as much as it damned near killed him, he tugged her away until those clever, cool fingers were no longer tormenting him and threatening him to destroy what little trace of control remained.

“You’re too damn trusting, baby. You think some slick bastard couldn’t make you think just those very things, play on it until you were willing to do just this?”

Lena laughed and pushed up on her toes, pressed her lips to his. “I’m sure some slick bastard could try to do just that … and several slick bastards have tried, tried and failed miserably. I’ve got good instincts, Ezra … and you may be slick, you might even be a bit of a bastard when you want. But you’re not one for games.” Then she bit his lower lip. “I’m not much for moving quickly, but I am one for listening to my instincts … and everything inside me wants you.”

Fuck …

Ezra’s hand tightened in her hair and he slammed his head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling.
Count to ten
. Ten didn’t work.
Try twenty—

Fuck it. He could count to fifteen million and it wasn’t going to do a bit of good. He was burning, his cock hard, his balls on fire, and the only thing that would soothe that blistering heat was Lena. “I should know better than this,” he muttered, lowering his eyes back to her face and staring down at her. “I really, really should. But screw it.”