One More Night with You (11 page)

“When did you find out about the cover?”

“Today. Until today I thought he was an agent who lost his way but tried to be a hero in the end. The Bureau's seen it before.”

“Now he's back. Why?”

“He found out Gian DiGorgio has been keeping an eye on me and he wants to put an end to it. This way he can be my bodyguard without alerting everyone around me, particularly your parents, that I need a bodyguard. We're handling this, so that's why you can't involve more people. Don't mention this to Marshall and Tem.”

“What about Nate?”

“Not him, either. Besides, he's got plenty of complications with the whole Santino and Bindi thing.” Nate's brother was apparently heart-and-soul in love with their father's much younger ex-fiancée—and tabloids were still enjoying the irony of it all.

“I can't lie to my fiancé.”

A lie-free relationship? Joey thought such a thing was as real as a unicorn or a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. “I can respect that. Should Nate ask you specifically if his godfather is stalking me, you have my blessing to tell him what you know.”

“So this man...Zaf...he's living with you and watching your back?”

“We've agreed that he'll pretend to be my boyfriend until the DiGorgio problem has been solved.”

“You said you're still attracted to him. How long before you start wanting
pretend
to become the real thing?”

“It's not like that, Lottie.”

“You loved him once.”

“Yeah, but as I also learned today, he didn't love me. He can't love, he claims. And I won't push.”

“Jo,” Charlotte said on a sigh, “this is by far the saddest girls' night out ever.”

“Yeah,” Joey murmured, and pointed outside, “and here's the rain for further emphasis.” It seemed to complement the mood of the day, but having grown up on a ranch and surrounded by flowers, she appreciated rain. It'd been too long since she let herself get caught in it.

Charlotte picked up her phone. “Weather alert. Thunderstorm. Maybe now this heat and humidity will let up. Hope everyone's slowing their speed and watching out for downed power lines.” They left the table for a view of lightning branching above the glittering city. “Would you think less of me if I left? I know it's early as heck, but I just want to put my arms around Nate and wait this storm out.”

“That sounds disgustingly romantic.” Joey gave her a one-armed hug. “Get out of here. Go be in love.”

After Charlotte's driver collected her from the Bellagio, Joey set a course for home. The girls' night gabfest had ended early, but it was for the better. She still had plenty of time to pour her stress into a cake-baking session. Thank God, too, because she had plenty of stress. Talking about Zaf had left her on an emotional spin cycle.

I'm crazy attracted to him.

Had that been a lie? Was it only attraction?

Attraction hadn't compelled her to open her body to him on a crowded street. It didn't torment her with hunger for his touch and thirst for his taste. It didn't influence her to resent every day they'd been apart. It sure as hell didn't tempt her to forgive their mistakes and forget that no, he hadn't loved her.

Damn it, she needed it to be about attraction. About sex, really.

Turning onto her street, Joey found it completely dark under the bawling sky.

Power outage.

Did her heart rate kick up in fear that wasn't totally irrational? Yes. Did it give way to calmness the second she saw Zaf's truck in the driveway? Yes—and that disturbed her.

She'd never before minded being alone. Now that he was here, in her life and in her house on the darkest night of the summer, she was genuinely afraid to be without him.

“Not a good sign,
chica
,” she warned herself, parking next to the truck and hurrying through the assaulting rain as quickly as her cane and stilettos would allow.

Muggy heat welcomed her home. The security system had a backup battery and she was relieved to find it still functioning unaffected. The same couldn't be said for the air conditioner. Was that worse than not being able to make a cake or having to remove her makeup without the aid of her electric magnifying mirror?

“Zaf,” she called out, feeling around the dark for a route to the kitchen drawer that held the candles. “A little light would've been awesome.”

His voice came from the hall and a tiny golden glow preceded him. The light vanished then reappeared with a faint
snick
.

“Are you using a lighter?” she asked, then continued on to the kitchen.

“Correct. But not for cigarettes.”

“You didn't smoke tonight?”

“Uh-uh. I ate the rest of your jelly beans.” He paused and she couldn't tell where he was now. The guy had the stealth of a jungle predator. “I got a candle going in the bathroom. I was planning on lighting as many as I could find so you wouldn't stumble around in the dark.”

“Oh. Thanks. Lottie and I cut girls' night short on account of the thunderstorm. The candles are in here.”

“Where's here?”

“Kitchen.”

She gathered tealights, votives and tapers. Providing the flame, he helped her place the candles in holders throughout the main rooms, and they separated to carry one to their respective bedrooms.

Dios
, the house was hot. Before she got to her room, she put the holder on a hall table, lifted her hair off her neck and changed directions.

Backtracking, she wound up in front of the bathroom's open doorway and listened to the rush of water filling the tub.

Zaf opened the door wider. Candle flames flickered, offering leaping shadows across the walls. “Need something, Jo?”

Very much.
“No. Are you gonna take a bath?”

“A dip. It's a hot night.”

Stuck on pause, Joey watched him unfasten his belt. She stood there, her hand in her hair, her skin sweltering inside a dress that was squeezing her tighter by the nanosecond.

“Hey, Joey, do you need something?” he asked again, yanking the belt free. The leather serpent hit the floor near his bare feet.

“No,” she said again. She didn't
need
to continue to stand here; she wanted to.

“Uh... I'm about to get in that tub and I won't be doing it with my clothes on.”

She couldn't move—couldn't manage to tell him to make her move. It was as if her mind refused to object to her body's decision to stay.

But Zaf didn't comment further. He turned, gracing her with a full frontal view as he stripped off the shirt.

Muscles constricted under tanned skin, taking hold of her complete attention. She dropped her hair and clutched her cane too fiercely, taking blatant inventory of the cut of his hip bones, the pattern of hair that arched up his abs and stretched across his chest.

A telling scar at the front of his shoulder had her coming a few steps closer. “That's a bullet wound. You were shot?”

“On a security job some months ago.” The shirt joined the belt, and his hands gravitated to the front of his pants.

Arousal jumped inside her as fitfully as the shadows dancing up the walls.

He brought the pants down, kicked them off.

No underwear. Just him, standing in front of her in complete rugged nudity.

And here she thought she'd have a few seconds to brace herself or to perhaps reconsider and back away.

“Don't worry, this shouldn't last too much longer. The water's cold,” he said, apparently noticing that she stared at his erection with openmouthed fascination.

Whoever had carved the design of this man's body evidently wanted to sink her with lust.

Zaf stood in front of the bathroom vanity and removed the silver ring. Her gaze tracked him from the vanity to the tub, and it hurt her to remember a time when she was at liberty to run her hand down the line of his spine and grasp his ass because his body belonged to her and hers belonged to him.

He turned the spigot. Lowering into the water, plowing his hands through and running them over his face and hair, he rested against the tub in a casual sprawl and considered her.

Beneath the nonchalance was taut intensity, danger that persuaded and provoked.

“Get in, Jo.”

“There's a soaking tub in my bathroom.” Or she could get in the car and blast the air. Or she could flee to any one of Vegas's downtown dens.

Staying here with Zaf wasn't her only option. But still she didn't move.

“Coming or going?” he asked.

“I don't know.”

“Tell you what. Get a deck of cards.”

Perplexed, she hesitated but the cavalier command was like a pat to her ass, urging her along. In the candlelit living room she found a catchall basket and dug up a box of Bicycle.

“Since you don't know and I'm not going to decide for you,” he explained when she shook out the cards and handed them over, “let these figure it out.”

She watched him shuffle with dexterity that had her mind drifting to other talents his hands were capable of.

“Higher card trumps. If it's yours, you walk. If it's mine, you get in with me. That sound fair?” When she nodded, he said, “Cut the cards. Lady first.”

Joey took away the top half of the deck, revealing a ten of hearts. Not the best possibility, but a solid card.

Without a word, Zaf Charlier-cut the deck. Then, sitting back and taking a stab at a triumphant grin, he revealed the king of spades.

Chapter 7

“I
'm not holding you to the game.”

Joey was in the middle of wiggling the cards back into their box. Fumbling over her task, she dropped them. “There are clothes and cards on the floor, limited light, and you didn't put down a towel. This bathroom's a cautionary tale in the making.”

This tub, in my arms, is a safe place for you.

She picked her way to the tub. “What do you mean, you're not holding me to the game?”

“Just what I said. If you leave this room, I won't follow in pursuit. The high card means nothing.”

“Gallant of you, Zaf,” she said, propping her cane against the tub. She bent and slipped off one shoe then held on to the tub's edge to remove the other. “But I take card playing seriously. When I cut the deck, I knew there was a fifty-fifty chance you'd get the high card.”

“This isn't one other thing that's out of your control.” Zaf felt the cords of his neck tighten and his blood rush to his penis—despite the scientific psychology of cold water's effect. “What you do next is your choice. But as a suggestion, take your dress off before you get in this tub. You
will
get wet.”

“What a pervert. My mamá warned me about men like you.”

“Your mamá's a smart cookie.”

“She wouldn't want me to be alone with a brooding, mysterious fellow who
obviously
wants to do dirty things to me in a bathtub.”

“So you have a choice to make.”

“Mmm-hmm. You're here, I'm here and it's a lonely night, Zaf.”

“That's all it can be about.”
I'm a lying bastard. I love you and I'm too weak not to.

“Just like when we cut those cards, I know what the stakes are.”

He almost bowed up to gather her in his arms, but the stern determination on her face warded him off as if she'd snapped, “Don't interfere.” She would come
to
him without his help.

He had the entire night to make her come
for
him.

Zaf widened his legs, creating space for her to settle when she gripped the edge of the tub and stepped in with her right foot first.

“Cold,” she yelped. “It'll cool me down, but it's chillier than I expected. How are you coping?”

“My body decided to ignore it.”

“I see that.” Perched on the edge of the tub, running one foot over his under the water, she said, “This is as deep as I'm wading.”

“Worried about what I might do, Jo?”

“Nope. Just assessing things.” Thoughtfully, she reached out a palm and explored his bent knee. “Your body amazes me. The symmetry and the harshness... When we slept together, sometimes I woke up during the night and if I had trouble drifting off again, I would watch you sleep.”

“I'm not the world's most peaceful sleeper.” Night terrors sometimes ripped him from dreams and threw him out of bed in a cold sweat.

“I remember. Whenever I noticed you in an angry dream, I'd try to soothe you. God knows if it ever worked.”

It had—often. Her gentle whispers and soothing touches had penetrated his subconscious, combating the demons that accessed him at his most vulnerable.

“Why stay in bed with a man fighting in his sleep and disturbing you?”

“I didn't want to leave you to suffer. I was thinking that in your sleep on some level you'd know you weren't alone. A girl in love—that was me.” She took her hand away. As hot as it was in this room, he missed her warmth. “Men don't share my bed anymore. I'm a sprawler now.”

“Sprawler?”

“Arms and legs spread. I spread out across the entire bed because it's all mine.”

“What position are you in when you wake up?”

She was quiet and the house was quiet, and for a moment there was only the hammering rain and the toss of the wind. “Hugging a pillow.” Discomfort had her posture straightening and her hands twisting the hem of her dress. “So what, anyway.”

Water trailed down his body as he stood. Cupping her shoulders, he let the burst of desire expanding her pupils spellbind him. “The way your nipples pucker up and you watch me with your eyes half-closed like that when you're turned on... I swear that memory's chased me for five years. This night's gonna chase me for the rest of my days.”

“No, it won't. When you do fall in love with somebody, you'll forget the little things about me.”

“I told you I'm not capable of that.”

“I think you are. It's going to be incredible. When you're in love and you embrace it, it's as if you're at this place that's the inverse of the worst you've ever felt. Joy can be as intense as misery. I've been there before, so I know.”

She'd been there before with him. She'd loved him, a man who was undeserving and unable to put her first. She thought he'd given up being Archangel the vigilante hell-bent on righting a personal wrong, but that was a necessary lie. Zaf and Archangel were still two halves of the same man and he hadn't changed all that much.

Joey was the one who'd changed and sacrificed, and it wasn't fair. “I'm sorry, Jo.”

“Don't do that—pity me. Don't touch me if you do pity me.”

He touched her, pinching her supple bottom lip and swallowing down her gasping little moan in a kiss. “Something's telling me you want my touch no matter the reasons behind it. There's nothing wrong with wanting contact.”

“Wait. Aggie and all sorts of uncomplicated women in this town would gift wrap their panties for you, yet you're in this stifling house doing bodyguard duty.”

“And?”

“And I want to know if this attention and the kisses and the touching is all because you feel sorry for me.”

Light and sound bloomed around them as the electricity was restored, but Joey didn't move. She waited for an answer. No, not
an
answer, but the one she wanted to hear.

Zaf emerged from the tub and walked naked out of the bathroom. The cold water hadn't cooled, calmed or numbed a damn thing between them.

The guest bedroom was too cheerful for his mood, with all the lamps now glowing along with the two votive candles Joey had given him. His duffel occupied a corner of the bed and he moved it to the floor. While Joey had been out with her friend, he'd brought clothes and equipment over from the bare-bones room he rented out of a dime-a-dozen motel.

It wasn't far past midnight, but he would yank on a pair of shorts and do a sprawl of his own across this bed. Maybe, if he didn't screw up and waste the night picturing Joey playing in the sheets and slithering around on the mattress, he would rest.

Detecting the tap of her cane nearby, he disregarded the common sense pleading with him to stay out of her way. He pursued the hallway, coming to an immediate, soundless stop when he saw her barefoot and beautiful, dousing a candle.

Joey lobbed a scowl at him. “What do
you
want?”

But the hostility didn't interrupt his stride. Taking the candle from her and plunking it on the table, he dipped a finger into the front of the silk bound across her breasts and jerked her to him.

“Come here.”

“I'm here,” she said.

“Closer.”

She let the cane go. It slid free, clattering onto the wood floor, and she clung to his hips. Her fingers pressed into his damp flesh, and her russet eyes searched his with eager demand.

Zaf found her mouth wet and impatient. It invited him to the taste he couldn't resist, to a tongue that opened him and taunted with each deliberate stroke. Catching each of her lips between his teeth, he held on until she gave him a sexy little whimper. Pushing back her hair and winding it around his fist like a dark honey strap, he said, “This isn't pity, Jo. I don't pity-fuck.”

They were rough words dressed up in even rougher tones, but this is how they were together from that first night in Mexico—blunt, natural, real.

Joey's hands rode up his body, at last linking behind his neck. He swung her up but paused to reach for the cane.

“Get it later,” she tried to persuade. “It'll be a wet blanket on what we have going here.”

“I'm not letting you feel trapped by leaving your stick out in the hall. You're free to get out of my bed and go whenever you want.”

“Am I free to leave it here because it's a reminder of all kinds of unpleasant stuff that I don't want to wedge between us?”

“It's our reality. You need the damn thing, and I'm the reason for it. If that's too hard for us to face, then why are we doing this?”

“Leave it out here, the stick and all the hell.” She kissed his chest, his Adam's apple. “I want contact. Give me that, okay?”

Contact. He could do that, because showing her more—such as the truth—would unleash trouble neither of them was meaning to tempt.

Swinging her up, he brought her to his room and set her in front of the bed. “Condoms, top middle dresser drawer,” she said.

“You keep condoms in a guest room? Who do you let stay here?” Her soft, sweet laughter followed him as he took a couple. “About that dress you're wearing. If you'd followed my suggestion in the bathroom, you would already be out of it.”

A naughty smile in place, Joey sought the side zipper. The zipper hissed as it slid down the track, parting her dress. The fabric surrendered, pooling onto the floor.

Chaste pink lace cradled her tits and draped over her pussy like a garnish on top of something he was dying to taste again.

Unkempt and writhing where she stood, Joey reached behind her to release her bra. He crouched to rid her of the panties, but halted when his eyes fastened on the darkened scar marring the peach-soft smooth skin on her abdomen.

She was so damn tough to withstand this world and survive his unforgivable mistakes. He couldn't help but love her. There would be no future with her, but he had himself to blame for that.

“Tell me if something hurts,” he said, kissing her scar and curving his hand over her hip. “What can't you do?”

“Straddling you would be awkward.”

“Awkward?”

“Okay, painful.”

“What's good for you?”

“Missionary, if I hug you with my knees pulled up. Come inside me from behind...”

Zaf looked up at her. “Babe.”

She laughed, shielding her eyes. “I was mad at you in the hall. Now I'm laughing.”

They'd always had a way of provoking each other's highest highs and lowest lows. But he wanted to strip anger and humor away and discover what remained between them.

Still watching her, he pushed her panties down unceremoniously. He dragged the all-but-transparent fabric under his nostrils, then sucked on it before pitching it aside.

And the laughter died.

“I've missed you.” Lying on the bed, she flipped onto her stomach. “Get on top of me. Cover me. That should feel nice for you.”

Zaf wanted something beyond what would
feel nice
for him. He wanted her satisfied top to bottom, clean through.

Crawling onto the bed, knowing she was anticipating his mount, he changed direction and lay beside her.

Joey practically sprang up. The mattress barely shifted under her slight weight. It teased his self-control to not pin her and catch one of those peaked nipples between his lips. “Are we okay?”

“It's about you tonight. Control's what you want, isn't it? So here is your opportunity. If you want control, take it.”

“Zaf... I want
you
.”

“Then take me.”

* * *

Joey didn't want to lead.

How could he not know that? He
should
know.

She shook, impatient for reassurance that his body wasn't deaf to the melody of hers, that he didn't have to relearn her completely. But here he lay, choosing now of all moments to relinquish control. Instead of setting the tone, as he had out in the hall, he waited for her to act.

Was it really because she'd made an issue of not steering her own life—or was it because her fragility made him skittish?

Zaf had never held back before, but he did now. It'd been a while since she felt so damaged.

It's about contact. Only contact.

Reinforcing the steel protecting her heart, she touched him. She began at his hairline, skimming her fingers over the fine silken strands. Then she moved her knuckles down the line of his whiskered jaw and ducked down to nuzzle it.

His coarse beard scratched; his chest hair tickled. Following the trail past his navel, she nestled between his legs, twirled her fingers through his pubes then tugged.

Zaf's hips jerked and he reached down to clutch her head. “What was
that
for?”

“Just making sure I have your attention.”

“Damn it, you got it. Anything you want.”

He was so weak for her. She wanted to bask in the power, but could only focus on coaxing his pleasure.

Contact
, she tried to remind herself, but it was next to impossible to lie when high emotions weakened her resolution to keep this about just sex.

She missed handling him, watching his cock grow hard and heavy in her hand, feeling her mouth water for the first taste of him to sink into her tongue.

Sealing her lips over the tip, she hummed, grateful for the familiarity of this. Everything around them had changed, but this remained the same.

His hand moved from her head to the back of her neck. Spitting into her palm, she pumped his shaft. The wetter his flesh, the deeper she could take him. And the deeper she took him, the harder his fingers pressed into her. By morning there'd be impressions left behind.

On them both.

“Good you stopped there,” he groaned when she let him slip free of her lips. “My turn.”

“I'm in control, remember?” She pushed his chest and he lay flat on the bed again. “So here's what I'm doing with it.”