Risk (It's Complicated Book 2) (15 page)

But Justus didn’t look okay.

And his rigid jaw told her he
might
not be in a compromising mood.

Ah, well. They’d have to work something out anyway, because she had no intention of leaving.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’ll try not to take too long.”

Nerves made her heart do a pretty good impersonation of a jackhammer, but she tried to ignore its pounding as she marched right up to Justus, thinking he’d step aside and let her in.

He didn’t.

His glittering gaze locked with hers while he waited for her next move.

“Excuse me,” she said coldly, narrowing her eyes.

With a mocking little smile, he angled his body the minimum amount to let her squeeze through. Irritated but relieved (thank God he’d decided to let her in; if he’d wanted to block her she’d have had more luck pushing an elephant out of the way), she nudged his hard body with her shoulder as she passed, to no visible effect.

She went to the living room, where she took off her coat and gloves and threw them on a chair. The door slammed shut and Justus appeared from the foyer, his face still dark with tension.

Angela tried to think of something conciliatory to say.

“I need to pick Maya up from preschool in a few minutes, so this is the only time I’ll have today to talk without being interrupted. And I wanted to do this in person.”

He said nothing.

Her unease grew. His living room, so warm and cozy only last night, felt dangerous now, as if she was trapped in a cave with a bear she could hear but not yet see. Part of the issue was that he hadn’t bothered turning on any of the lights, although the TV was paused on what looked like an episode of
NYPD Blue
. Weak afternoon sunlight filtered through the blinds, creating harsh shadows on the walls. A clock ticked over on the mantel, the sound thunderous in the oppressive silence.

Angela tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “Can’t we work things out with Maya? You know I’d let you have as much time with her—”

“You won’t
let
me do anything.”

She winced.

If she hadn’t seen his lips move, she’d never have recognized the harsh tone as his voice.

And there was more where that came from.

“If I was a woman,” he continued, “we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. You don’t even want her—”

She sputtered, hating that she couldn’t muster a quick retort to this basic truth that she certainly hadn’t planned to become a parent this way.

“—and you’re only taking her because you know I’m the only other choice.”

“I
do
want her, Justus. And I told her the other night that she’d be living with me. I told her she could have the guest bedroom. I promised we’d paint it this weekend.”

He said nothing.

Her unease grew.

“I promised her, Justus! I can’t go back on my word! I promised her we’d be a family!”

In that agonizing moment, as the silence mushroomed and those gleaming eyes, so merciless and dark, stared her down, Angela realized that she didn’t have the slightest possibility of compromise.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “Justus—”

“You shouldn’t have told her that.”

“But I did! I can’t break my word to her!”

“Break your word? Why don’t you take a minute and think about what’s best for
Maya
?”

“
I’m
best,” she said, but even she could hear the uncertainty in her voice.

He snorted. “You know how I know you don’t really want her?”

“
No.
”

He circled her, his gaze sweeping relentlessly up and down her body. “Because you never gave a
damn
about her until her parents got killed.”

She froze.

“Isn’t that right, Angela?” He leaned toward her face so the only things she could see were the gold and black sparks in his glittering eyes. “Huh? Before last week, when did
you
ever voluntarily spend ten minutes with her? When did
you
ever take her to the zoo? When did
you
ever take her to McDonald’s for a Happy Meal?”

Oh, God, how his jeering hurt, especially when he spoke the truth.

Unable to answer, unshed tears of shame and guilt blurring her vision, she turned her face away from the smug satisfaction in his eyes.

But her refusal to look at him only seemed to enrage him further. He pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger and, ignoring her surprised cry, jerked her head back around.

“And now
you
want her? And
you’ll
let
me
take her when I want her? I don’t think so.”

Angela finally found her spine. Maybe she’d been a negligent aunt in the past, but those days were over. She’d opened her heart—and her home—to Maya and she would
not
let him bully her like this.

So she jerked her head away, blinking back her tears. “You don’t know what kind of aunt I’ve been, you arrogant son of a bitch.”

Justus’s eyes widened with shock.

“You have the nerve to talk about what kind of parent
I’d
make? Well, what about
you
?”

His face turned to stone. “Excuse me?”

“She’s a three-and-a-half-year-old girl, Justus,” she jeered. “Who are you going to use for a mother figure for her? Janet and the other nineteen-year-olds you date?”

“Jealous?”

Uh-oh.

The air in the room shifted dangerously, and she felt it over every inch of her tingling skin.

She stared at him, unable to catch her breath for an embarrassingly long time.

Finally she was able to force a laugh. “As if.”

His expression went still and inscrutable.

Desperate to steer the conversation back into safer waters, Angela latched on to the first hurtful thing she could think of to say. “You know what? Your father had a point. How do you think you can be a good parent when you spend all your time at the gym or with your little—”

“Don’t even try it,” he roared. “I heard you.
I heard you!
”

“What?”

“Earlier! In the library with my father! I went back to tell him to go fuck himself, and I
heard
you defending me. You don’t believe anything he said about me! I heard you!”

Oh, God.

She’d had no idea he’d heard or that she was capable of something as despicable as throwing his father’s words in his face.

Time to backpedal. “It doesn’t matter what I said then. The point is, with your lifestyle—”

“My...lifestyle?”

His voice, which sounded like a rattlesnake’s warning muffled by silk, made her pause. How had it come to this between them? Weren’t they friends? Hadn’t they cared about each other when the day began?

And she’d called
Vincent
poisonous earlier? When had she become such a sickening hypocrite?

She took a calming breath and chose her words very carefully.

“If you think about it, I’m sure you’ll agree that Maya shouldn’t be exposed to all your little...fuck buddies.”

“Was that a nasty word coming out of those pretty lips? I’m impressed. Makes me wonder what else those lips can do.”

“Don’t try to change the topic! You know you’ll just have a parade of trashy women in and out of Maya’s life! Won’t you?”

“Damn, baby.” He eyed her incredulously, a hot and disturbing new light shining in his eyes. “You’re a hypocrite to the bone, aren’t you?”

Her heart lurched crazily. What could she do? Admit that he was right? That no matter how much she tried to pretend otherwise, the thought of him and Janet—or any other woman, for that matter—made her sick to her stomach?

No freaking way.

This was a topic she would never explore—not with herself and certainly not with him.

She kept quiet, but her silence only seemed to make things worse.

“
Aren’t
you, Angela?”

She realized, far too late, that he had no intentions of letting it go. Not this time. The room collapsed around her, leaving no air to breathe. Meanwhile, the panic she’d managed to control so far finally exploded, turning her belly to lead and her legs to Jell-O.

Which meant she was in a shitload of trouble.

Justus on a good day was a wild card.

This new, angry Justus was determined to strip her bare.

So much for her whole misguided peacekeeping mission. Her only goal now was to get out of here before anything else happened and one of them rang a bell that couldn’t be un-rung.

“It’s late,” she said quickly, snatching her purse and coat from the sofa. “I have to go.”

She actually made it two steps toward the door before he caught her arm and swung her back around and up against the hard, thrilling warmth of his body.

A long, breathless moment passed.

“I don’t think so,” he told her softly, his laser focus slipping to her lips. “We have one other thing we need to talk about, and it’s waited more than long enough.”

T
he second he touched her
, Angela knew she was lost. Hadn’t this moment been ten years in the making? Hadn’t she wanted it—yearned for it—since the second she saw him again the night Ronnie dumped her? Didn’t she lose a little of her head and a little bit more of her heart every time he smiled at her or looked at her with those
eyes
?

Even so, her instinct for self-preservation would not let her surrender.

Not to Justus.

Never to Justus.

“I don’t want this,” she lied as he pulled her up against him, ignoring the delicious burn where his hands held her upper arms, the way pressing her breasts up against his muscular chest eased the ache in her nipples, and the way her nerveless fingers dropped her coat and bag and clung to his forearms. “We can’t do this.”

“Shh.”

Staring up into his intent face, she felt his anger go up in smoke.

And just as quickly felt his passion for her take its place.

With a throaty croon, he backed her up against a wall, eased one of his unyielding thighs between her legs, and buried his face between her neck and shoulder. She opened her mouth to protest, with a little backbone in it this time, but then he gathered her even closer to the dizzying strength of his body, and she said something else entirely.

“Justus.
Please
.”

“I want you,” he murmured, nuzzling her cheek and the sensitive hollow below her ear until her flesh felt like it was glowing with pleasure. “I think about you.”

And then her hypocrisy kicked into hyperdrive. She leaned her head to the side, giving him greater access to her neck while her mouth spouted more foolishness.

“We have to stop. This is
such
a bad idea.”

“I can’t.” Raising his head, he filtered his hands through her hair and pressed fevered kisses to her forehead, nose, and eyes. “I need you.”

I need you, too.

It was right on the tip of her tongue. Holding it back from him, when he needed to know, felt like breathing water. A crime against nature.

But she managed to hang on to her words even if she couldn’t leash her roaming hands. They’d already slid under the lower edge of his sweatshirt and discovered the heady thrill of touching his bare back. His skin was so smooth. So
hot
. And the muscles beneath flexed against her fingers, tempting her to scratch him, just to see how he would react.

But she controlled herself, an act that took five years off her life.

He didn’t control himself. His hands covered all the territory of her body in those few seconds, gliding up her sides and across her breasts...cupping her ass so she could grind against his unyielding thigh...finding the edge of her skirt and delving beneath, to her bare legs.

Sensations tumbled through her, faster and faster now, as undeniable as her face in the mirror. Crying out with pleasure and soaking wet, she teetered on a razor’s edge, wondering if he’d make her come right here, up against a wall, without ever even removing a stitch of her clothing—

“I think about you,” he repeated hoarsely. “I breathe for you. I get hard for you. I jack off to you.”

“Oh, God.”

Planting his hands on either side of her head, he angled her head back and smoothed her hair away from her face. He stared, as if hypnotized, at her mouth.

She parted her lips, waiting, waiting—

“It’s always been you, Angela,” he whispered. “I’ve never wanted any woman the way I want you.”

Want...

Want...

Want
.

That one word was antifreeze in Angela’s veins, the one thing that pierced her sensual haze and put her firmly back on her sensible-heeled feet. She stiffened. For good measure, Janet’s pouty face flashed before her eyes, shattering his spell over her like a crystal chandelier crashing on a concrete floor.

Crying out, she jerked away in that last millisecond and millimeter before he could kiss her.

“Angela?”

“You...you
want
me? Is that supposed to mean something?” A deathly calm descended on her in the wake of all that passionate heat, allowing her to think clearly again. “
Want?
What does that even mean, coming from
you
?”

He blinked, clearly trying to focus and wrench the steering wheel back from his rock-hard arousal.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“Oh my God,” she said on an incredulous laugh as she paced a few steps away. “I’m so
stupid
. What the hell were we thinking?”

“
Angela
. Come here.”

“
No
.”

Well, there it finally was—the steel in her voice she’d been looking for a few minutes ago. A day late and a dollar short, but, hey, better late than never.

The
no
seemed to pierce Justus’s lust-filled bubble, because when he reached for her again and she smacked his hand away, he stared at her, his eyes wide and stunned.

Then he cursed, held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, and backed up several steps.

“I’m not touching you,” he said quietly.

“Good.
Don’t
.”

They stared at each other for a few beats and then, when the effort of regaining control over his body seemed to overtake him, he bent at the waist and rested his hands on his thighs.

“I need a minute,” he told her with a harsh sigh.

Yeah, so did she, now that he mentioned it.

Her body, which had shivered to life so delightfully just a few minutes ago, now ached for him with a deep persistence that felt like she was on her last day of a weeks-long hunger strike. Her belly hurt. Her lungs refused to inflate properly.

And her blood...

Her blood flowed white hot for him, like molten gold through her veins, and if he came within a one-foot radius of her again, she was positive she’d take her panties off, hand them to him, and just be done with it once and for all.

He finally straightened, wiped his damp forehead with the back of his hand, and faced her. His erection, she couldn’t help but notice, was mostly gone now, but his eyes had a wild light she knew she’d be seeing again.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“What’s wrong? How dare you sexualize our relationship—”

“Our relationship was always sexual,” he said tiredly. “It’s been sexual since we laid eyes on each other.”

“We were becoming friends! How can that happen now?”

“The friendship is secondary. I want it, but it’s secondary to the attraction.”

“Yeah? Well how can we still be friends now, genius?”

“We can’t. That’s the point. I can’t be just friends with you. That could never work.”

She smacked her forehead. “Well, there I go being stupid again! What would make me think
you
could be friends with any woman? Coming on to women is like the sneezing reflex to you, isn’t it, Justus? Every now and then you just need to do it. Isn’t that how it works with you?”

His mouth twisted, and in the back of his jaw, she could see a muscle begin to pulse.

See? He wasn’t even bothering to deny it!

Her voice rose. “And now I’m supposed to feel
special
because you
want
me? Coming from you that means nothing!
Nothing!
”

“Angela—”

“That’s like me feeling special every week when the garbage man collects my trash. Why would I feel special when he collects everyone else’s, too?”

He refused to take the bait. “I’ve never wanted to be a woman’s friend. I’ve never wanted anyone else the way I want you. Not even close.”

God, she wanted to believe him. Even worse, she felt herself softening, especially since her body continued to cry out for him with every beat of her idiotic heart.

“How could you do this?” she asked, incredulous. “How could you come on to me when you
know
I just got dumped?”

“Is this good timing? No. Was it good timing back when I was seventeen and you were twenty-four? No. I’m not going to pressure you—”

She snorted.

“—I’m going to
try
not to pressure you, but this is going to happen between you and me. One day soon. I can’t make the stars arrange themselves in a perfect line for you. I can’t make it neat and clean. But you have to know: this is going to happen.”

“You don’t get it, do you? I’m like a walking emotional blister right now. Everything about me hurts.”

He stared at her, his expression softening. “Am I sorry he hurt you? Yes. Do I want to beat the shit out of his little punk ass for it? Yeah. But am I glad he’s out of your life? Hell yeah. It’s time for you and me now.”

“Oh my God,” she said, turning away.

He edged closer. She stiffened warily.

“When I saw you at the restaurant? I didn’t care about Ron. I didn’t care about Janet. So even if your relationship hadn’t crashed and burned, and even if the accident hadn’t happened, you have to know: I would have found you and come for you.” His jaw hardened. “Nothing would have stopped me.”

She wanted to clap her hands over her ears so she wouldn’t have to hear another word.

“I’ve wanted you since I was seventeen. I was a boy then. I’m a man now. And we’re both tired of waiting.” His pointed gaze swept over her body. “Aren’t we?”

Angela made an involuntary sound of distress. As if anyone could mistake his tall, muscular frame for anything other than a man overflowing with testosterone. As if any woman could look into those dark, hooded eyes and do anything other than wonder what such a man would feel like between her legs. Even ten years ago, when he’d danced with her at the wedding reception, Angela had known he wasn’t a boy—not really.

And she wanted him.

God knew she did.

“It’s going to be so good between us, Angela,” he said softly. “We both know it.”

Yes.
Yes
. “No.”

He took another step closer, blocking out her ability to see anything other than his smoldering eyes, erotic mouth, and wide shoulders.

“I want us to finish what we started when we danced together. When we
connected
. Do you remember?”

Oh, yes, she remembered. Forgetting didn’t seem to be an option. She remembered the exquisite pleasure of being wrapped in those hard arms, the thrill of his warm hands sliding down her bare back, the torture of his broad chest pressed against her throbbing breasts, and the excitement of feeling his smooth cheek pressed to her forehead.

She remembered her nerves around him, the way he’d made her laugh and the way she’d thought she understood him and his turbulent relationship with his father.

The memories were so vivid, it was like they’d tattooed themselves on her DNA so they’d be a part of her until the day she died.

And she was weakening again. He was eroding her resistance with his soft persuasion, leading her to where she already longed to go, and she couldn’t let that happen. She had half an ounce of screaming self-protective instinct left, and it warned her to steer clear at all costs.

Because, really—why would Justus bother with Angela for longer than three minutes when the floor at his feet was littered with sexy little video vixen types?

“You do remember. Don’t you, Duchess?”

The silky warmth in the endearment drove her to desperation. Desperation led her to cowardice and lies.

“Dance?” she asked, trying to look bewildered. “You’re making a big deal out of that one little
dance
we had?”

He flinched.

Her legal training urged her to zero in for the kill before he regained the advantage. So she let loose with a mocking little laugh. Did she hate herself for it? Absolutely. But she could never,
ever
surrender to Justus. She’d never survive when he dumped her for his next Janet.

“You
were
young, weren’t you?” she continued. “Why would you think there was anything special about some
dance
ten years ago? Is
that
what this is all about?”

His handsome face warped with a terrible combination of hurt and anger that took as much out of her as it did out of him.

“‘Some dance’?” he echoed faintly.

Oh, God
, she thought, pressing a hand to her knotted belly. Even his voice sounded ruined.

“It was only a dance,” she said, turning away because his obvious pain only added to her confusion, and she was ambivalent enough already.

Was this what simple thwarted
want
looked like on his face? Could there possibly be more to his feelings for her?

When his unfocused gaze dropped to the floor and he ran his hands over the top of his head, she tried to make her break. Quickly gathering her coat and bag again, she walked to the door and put her hand on the knob—

“Hang on,” he said.

Cursing to herself, she somehow mastered her flight instinct, which was demanding that she abandon all dignity and just sprint through the door and down the hall to the elevator to get away from him, and hesitated.

“Look at me, Angela.”

Rising panic made her shrill. “I have to go!”

“Look. At. Me.”

Channeling her inner Meryl Streep and doing her best to look defiant, she turned to face him across the space of about ten feet.

Their gazes locked and held.

His gleaming eyes narrowed with triumph.

And he
knew
.

“You’re a fucking liar, Duchess,” he said lightly.

Yes.

She absolutely was.

“I don’t have time for this! Believe what you want. Bye.”

She snatched the door open.

Employing the reflexes that’d made him a pretty good player at Xavier, he materialized behind her, reached over her shoulder, and slammed the door shut again.

Losing her head, she cried out with frustration.

He didn’t care.

Before she could yell at him, slide away from the cage of his arms and body on three sides of her and the door on the fourth, or do
anything
whatsoever to protect herself from this sensual assault that she wanted and dreaded more than anything else in the world, his skilled hands were on her again.

The second their bodies came back together, all her senses spiraled out of control again, sending her right to the edge as though they hadn’t just had several minutes to cool off.