Super Bad (a Superlovin' novella) (13 page)

“Bad dream?” Julian
asked and she closed her eyes, feeling the rumble of his voice against her ear
pressed to his chest.

“More like bad
memories,” she admitted, knowing it was pointless to lie. It was oddly freeing—not
having to wonder whether to be honest or not because she couldn’t get a lie
past him if she’d wanted to. It excised all the guesswork and manipulations and
left her feeling strangely peaceful with breaking honest ground. “I should be
grateful to remember. Grateful I’m whole enough to dream. No matter how bad. But
some memories would have done me a favor to stay buried.”

“Do you want to tell me
what it was about?”

She shrugged—as much as
she could while tucked snug against him. “Kevin.”

Julian stroked her
hair. “He can’t hurt you now.”

“I know.” She could
have left it there. She could have secrets, even from a man who could never be
fooled by lies, but she wanted to tell him. As if by saying the words, she
could release that evil part of her, get it out of her for good. “In the dream,
the memory,” she whispered so softly the words were little more than air, “I
was hurting
him
.” When the hand caressing her hair didn’t even hesitate,
she dared to push out the next words. “And I liked it. It felt
good
.”

Her voice broke on the
last word and Julian tightened his arm around her, not repudiating her, but
letting his warmth, his strength slowly penetrate the deep cold inside her. “He
hurt you,” Julian whispered, his breath rustling her hair, “and you wanted him
to hurt. It’s natural for you to—”

“I
loved
it,
Julian. What kind of monster gets off on another’s pain?”

“If you were a monster,
the memory of it wouldn’t have frightened you. It could never have made you
cry.”

“But what I did… And
then I hurt you. I hurt Darla. It made me feel strong to push pain into
someone’s thoughts.”

“Are you sorry?”

“
Yes
.” Her voice
broke on the word.

“I can hear how true
that is. We all have regrets. I would protect you from the memory of them, but
remembering is the only way we can keep from repeating our mistakes.”

“It wasn’t a mistake. I
knew what I was doing.”

He sighed, her head
rising and falling with the bellows of his chest. “Are you trying to get me to
condemn you for it?”

Was that what she
wanted? No. But she couldn’t accept his absolution either. He hadn’t seen the
dark light in her. He didn’t know and until he knew, how could he forgive her? But
she was too tired to convince him. Exhaustion followed hard on the heels of her
emotional storm. Mirage tucked her chin, burying her face against his warm
skin. “Just hold me,” she whispered. “Please stay.”

“I’m not going
anywhere.”

* * * * * * * * * *

She looked so young in
her sleep. It was easy to forget, when the fierce, ancient intelligence blazed
from her eyes, that she should, by rights, have still been a young soul. Now,
with her eyes closed and her face softened with dreamless slumber, he was
keenly aware of the decade that separated them. Surely that was why he felt
this fierce protectiveness. It couldn’t be that he truly felt she belonged to
him. He had no right to such possessiveness.

Julian frowned, watching
her lashes flutter against her cheeks. He’d never been the jealous type before,
never gone in for the chest-banging Neanderthal
you’re mine
routine, but
with Mirage, the caveman instinct was there and it was
strong
. Like a
tether to the most instinctual corner of his soul. He’d been raised a hero, but
never truly felt heroic until she looked at him. He ached to be the one to slay
her demons and chase all the shadows from her eyes.

She shifted, stretching
against him, and his body went taut in a way that reminded him he
definitely
didn’t think of her as childlike in any way. Twenty wasn’t so young—not
with the wealth of life already behind her.

She’d fallen asleep in
his arms last night. Trusting. Accepting what comfort he could give. He didn’t
know when things had changed between them. When she had become so irreplaceable
to him or when she had first allowed herself to lean on him. It had happened so
gradually, he couldn’t pinpoint the moment of change. He only knew that he
would protect her.

Even when that included
protecting her from himself.

He slid to the edge of
the bed, gently extracting himself from the tangle of Mirage’s arms, taking
care not to wake her. Waking her with her body still curled around his was too
much temptation. He had to get away.

But when he glanced
over his shoulder, he found her watching him with sleep-kissed eyes from the
warm nest of sheets.

“Sneaking off?” she
asked, her voice hoarse and low. “And here I had you pegged for a gentleman.” When
he froze, her eyebrows curved upward. “Don’t let me interrupt your walk of
shame.”

“I’m not ashamed.”

“Then why are you
sneaking out of my bed like you did something wrong, hmm?”

Because he wanted to do
something wrong. He wanted to do
everything
to her and it was all wrong.
“I was trying not to wake you.”

“I got that. What I
don’t get is why you look so guilty at being caught.”

He flushed, not
bothering to protest that he wasn’t guilty as hell. She wouldn’t have needed
lie-detecting powers to tell he was full of shit if he tried that one. She
looked up at him from the warmth of the bed, dark eyes sparkling. He’d had no
idea she was such a morning person. Last night’s tears were a distant memory. She
looked refreshed, soft and wholesome—provided wholesomeness came with a spark
of wicked invitation flashing in her dark eyes. Mirage could provoke a saint. And
he was no saint.

Uncomfortably aware the
loose pajama pants did little to conceal his growing interest, he shifted one
knee to better block her view.

“You know what I think,
Justice?” She stretched again, arching like a cat until the thin sleepshirt
pulled taut across her breasts, her nipples clearly outlined.

Sweet Jesus.
“What?” he croaked.

She sat up and leaned
toward him, resting her weight on one hand as the other trailed the outer edge
of his arm. “I think we both need to stop pretending we don’t know the truth.”

There were moments in a
man’s life when his true character was revealed. When ideals were put to the
proof of action. This was one of those moments. If Julian were a good man, he
would stand up and walk out of the room without a backward glance. She was
grateful to him for restoring her memories. She felt indebted to him. If he’d
learned anything from Kim, it had to be that saving a woman and earning her
love were not one and the same. It would be wrong to take advantage of her
vulnerability. A good man would walk away.

Turned out he wasn’t as
good as he’d always thought he was.

He turned his head to
meet her gleaming gaze. “What truth is that?” he asked, though he knew damn
well what her answer was going to be.

Mirage’s smile said she
knew he knew it too. “That I want you and you want me.”

“Do I?”

Her smile widened. “Don’t
you?”

He was out of evasions.
He simply watched as she slowly came to her knees. Her hands glided up his
back, across his shoulders.

“I could lie and say
I’m not attracted to you, but you would hear the deceit in my voice.” Her
breath whispered across his shoulder blades, the back of his neck. “What’s that
like? Always knowing the truth?”

He had pat answers,
pretty lies, but this time he gave the unvarnished truth. “It sucks.”

“Takes all the mystery
out of life?” Her hands kneaded the tense muscles in his shoulders. She had a
firm touch and
damn
it felt good.

He let his head fall
forward. “Life has plenty of mystery. It’s human nature you don’t want to take
too close a look at. Unless you have to.”

“Do people lie a lot?”

“Constantly. And about
the stupidest things. But it isn’t the pointless lies that get to you. It’s
knowing the truth when everyone around you is blissfully oblivious. And when
they would rather stay that way than see.” He grunted as she hit a particularly
tense knot and pressed deep into the tissue. “And I can’t even blame them for
their ignorance. I envy it too much.”

“They envy you too.” Her
hands gentled, more caressing than massaging now. “
I
envy you. Always
certain.”

He felt her lean toward
him and stiffened again, pulling away. “I’m certain this is a bad idea.”

“Why?” she demanded,
her voice suddenly sharp. “Because I’m not heroine material?”

He wasn’t going to tell
her she’d make a helluva heroine if she put her mind to it, because he’d just
as soon not get his ass kicked into next week. Somehow he didn’t think Mirage
would see that as a compliment. “Because your brother will kill me, for one. Because
it would be unprofessional. Because you aren’t in a position to make rational
decisions about your love life right now and I won’t take advantage of our
situation.”

“Wow. Thanks for
bringing my brother into bed with us.”

“We aren’t in bed.” At
her arch look, he growled. “Okay, yes, technically we’re in bed, but we aren’t
in
bed
. And we aren’t going to be.”

“Because I’m too crazy
to decide who I want to fuck.”

He flinched. Over the
last few days he’d learned that Mirage didn’t often swear, but when she did, it
always startled him. And dug into something primal in him to see that pretty
mouth wrapping around those filthy words. Dammit, that should
not
turn
him on. “That isn’t what I meant.”

“By your definition,
too irrational to make decisions about my love life means what exactly?”

“It would be too
complicated. Our relationship—”

“So we won’t have a
relationship.”

“Mirage—”

“Dammit, Julian, would
you just shut up and kiss me already? We both know you’re going to.”

He shot one last
desperate look at the door, but before he could move, Mirage braced her hands
on his shoulders and swung a leg over his lap to straddle him. He caught her
around the waist, meaning to set her away from him, but he just held her there,
ensnared by dark eyes and a sinful smile. She thrust her hands into his hair
and bent close, brushing her lips across his with a quick, flirtatious tease of
a kiss.

“Stop trying to be
everybody’s hero all the time,” she whispered, an inch from his mouth. Then she
kissed him and all heroic thoughts evaporated.

They damn well didn’t
lack for chemistry. And it probably didn’t hurt that between the two of them
combined they barely had enough clothing for one person. He couldn’t keep his
hands off the sleek length of her thighs, spread wide over his hips. She
devoured his mouth and the last shreds of his good intentions as he shoved the
thin fabric of her sleepshirt up until he could feel the satin-smooth skin of
her waist beneath his fingers. She was so slim his fingers almost touched, but
there was nothing insubstantial about the way she rode him. She ground herself
against his erection until he could feel how wet she was through the thin,
drenched fabric of her panties and his pajamas.

She twisted, falling
back onto the bed and pulling him down with her so his weight pressed her into
the mattress. In this position, he should have been the aggressor, but he had
no illusions about who was in charge. She consumed his every touch like she was
starved for it and demanded more. It had been a while for him, but it had
probably been even longer for her. Locked up in Trident and before that with
Kevin—

Julian jerked his mouth
from hers, jolted by that libido-dampening thought. Had Kevin…?

“Mirage?”

With deft fingers, she
unlaced the drawstring on his pants. “Less talk, more action, Captain.”

“Hang on.” He caught
her hands, pinning them beside her ears. He closed his eyes, trying to redirect
some blood back to his brain as Mirage rocked to grind against his cock.

He twisted his hips
away and she growled. “As much as I enjoy the whole holding-me-down bit, it
works better if we’re wearing fewer clothes.”

“Just hold on a sec.”

“Jesus, Justice.” She
rolled her eyes. “Guys are supposed to be easier than this. Stop playing so
freaking hard to get.” Drawing up her knees, she began trying to shove down his
pants with her feet.

Damn.
His
brain fogged for a moment at the thought of putting that flexibility to good
use, but he still had some shreds of honor left. “Did you… Have you…” Shit. How
was he supposed to ask if Kevin had manipulated her into sex? Even if the
bastard had, did Julian even have a right to know? This wasn’t exactly the time
to be dredging up buried memories, but he wasn’t sure he could give her what
she needed if this was some kind of sexual therapy.