Taming the Fire (29 page)

She answered the door wearing a robe, hair wet and water dripping down her legs. Instantly, his body hardened and he wanted to sink to his knees and lick every drop off her smooth skin.

He was such a bastard.

“Um… hi,” she said.

“Hi.” So he was a bastard
and he
was lame. “So, ah, can I come in for a minute?”

She shrugged and stood aside. He brushed past her—intentionally rubbing up against her. He didn't miss how she sucked in a harsh breath.

“So why are you here?” She shut the door and stood there, arms crossed over her chest.

“I still need something from you. I don't have any right to ask—”

“No,” she snapped, “you don't. You kidnapped me, tied me up, attacked me and broke my heart.”

“I know, but—” He shook his head. “I what?”

She realized what she'd said, and her eyes flared wide before she closed them and let out a long sigh. “You really don't remember.”

His heart kicked hard at his chest. “There are still things that are fuzzy.”

“That's why you're here.” She strode past him and sank down on the edge of the bed, kept her gaze cast at her feet. “You don't remember how we knew each other.”

“I know you took my money. I was furious. I was being hunted by some serious bad guys, and then ACRO picked me up. But everything before that…” He shrugged. “It's just bits and pieces. Like, I remember your name. Coco. I can see it on a computer screen, for some reason.”

“That's because we'd flirted for months online.”

Okay… he hadn't seen that coming.

“Flirted? As in, romantically, or cat and mouse, for our jobs?”
I'm a virgin. Do you still want to meet me?
He saw the words on the computer screen again. His computer. He'd been chatting with her… and he broke out in a cold sweat, because he suddenly knew that their
flirting
had been so much more than that, if only on his side.

She finally looked up at him. “It all started out because you were trying to hunt down someone who was hacking into illegal transactions, though I didn't know all of that until much later.”

“Who was I working for?”

A drop of water plopped to the carpet, and she prodded it with her toe for a moment before speaking. “I don't know. I got the impression that the people you were buying arms for were losing money, and they paid you to find out who was siphoning money out of their accounts.”

Okay, yeah, that sounded right. After leaving the military, he'd built a reputation as
the
guy to hire for spy jobs and investigations, thanks to his ability to see through other people's eyes when connected via electronics. It had been great having a second job when he wasn't dealing illegal arms.

“So how did you fit in?”

“I was the one siphoning money out of the accounts. Somehow—must have been that gift of yours—you managed to pop up a chat box on my computer, and you let me know you were onto me.”

She looked so vulnerable sitting there, wet, barely clothed, her feet rubbing against each other almost playfully, and he hated to ask the next question.

“Were you afraid?”

Her head snapped up, a cocky smile curving her mouth. “You were good, but not that good. You'd never have found me.”

He wanted to kiss her. Instead, he cleared his throat and asked, “What then?”

“We played cat and mouse for a long time, and eventually we just started playing. I don't know how it turned into a game like it did, but we flirted and stuff and… Man, this sounds stupid.”

No, it didn't, because this was starting to sound familiar. “We had sex, didn't we?” He couldn't help but smile at her shocked expression. “Online sex. Yeah, it's coming to me now.” He grinned. “Who'd have thought a virgin could have asked me to do some of the things you wrote?”

She turned about ten shades of red. “Yes, well, that's not important. What's important is that I actually liked you. We were supposed to meet. In Milan.”

“We were?”

“Oh, sure. Selective memory now?”

He shook his head, because the memory sat on the edge of his mind, so close he felt like he could touch it if he reached out far enough. Closing his eyes, he searched the corrupt files in his brain, tried to connect the wires… but, nothing. Dammit, nothing. Frustration shorted out his patience, and his eyes popped open.

“This is bullshit, Meg.” He grabbed the fuzzy collar of her robe and yanked her to her feet so they were face-to-face. “You used me. You played all that flirty bullshit so you could get to my accounts.”

She slammed her fist into his chest, but he didn't let go. “Screw you, Mr. Selective Memory. I could have taken your money at any time, but I didn't do it until you screwed me over. Left me waiting like a loser for six hours on a park bench.” She hit him again, and this time he let go. “Why didn't you show up? Were you married? Involved with someone else? Were all those e-mails telling me how you'd never felt as close to any flesh-and-blood woman as you felt to me just one big lie?”

“
What? No
, I wasn't lying when I said that. I—” Holy shit, he remembered. Remembered the excitement he'd felt the morning of their meeting, remembered taking a cab to the park.

Remembered telling the cabbie to keep going once they arrived.

He swore, long and hard. He'd chickened out. Never in his life had Ryan been involved in a serious relationship, and just the night before, he'd gone out with a couple of buddies who had been really damned vocal about why a relationship was a bad idea, given their line of work.

“You cant trust anyone, man. You should know that by now. No matter how well you think you know her. Women fuck you over just for the sport of it.”

Ryan hadn't believed it, but they'd freaked him out enough that he'd changed his mind. He'd gone to the airport, caught a flight to Greece, finished an arms transaction and then drank himself into a two-day hangover. When he came out of it, he realized what a huge mistake he'd made, and he'd tried to contact Coco.

Only to learn that she'd intercepted the money transfer. Hurt, furious and knowing he now had a price on his head, he'd told Coco he'd kill her with his bare hands, and then he'd gone on the run.

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”

Right. Like she'd done nothing wrong in all this. “I freaked, okay? I got an earful from friends who said I couldn't trust you.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Guess they were right.”

Coco stood there, little hands clenched into fists like she wanted to deck him, but after a moment, her chin began to quiver. When her eyes started to water, his anger swirled right down the drain.

“You're right,” she whispered. “What I did was vindictive and mean.”

“Dammit.” He pulled her into his arms, and she came willingly. “I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that.” Doing his best to soothe her, he stroked her hair, which had started to dry into soft curls. “I guess neither of us has a pretty past. But at least now I know why I threw wood every time I saw your picture when I was searching for you through Itor.” Which actually didn't make sense, because they'd never exchanged photos.

She made a strangled, choking sound. “Do you ever filter your thoughts before they come out of your mouth?”

“Nope. That's part of my charm.”

She drew back a little to look at him. “I'm not sure
charm
is the right word…”

He laughed, his first real laugh in months. The first real laugh since he'd left ACRO to infiltrate Itor.

Man, it felt good to be home, to know who he was… and to be holding a woman in his arms. Still, a touch of sadness brought him back down to earth. “Look, I'm sorry I was such an asshole to you. That I kidnapped you and—”

She pressed a finger to his lips. “Stop. We can keep feeling guilty about everything we've done, or we can start over. I know which one I vote for.”

Warmth bubbled up inside him, filling spaces that had been so cold since the day those Itor bastards had taken his memory. He curled his hand around hers and kissed her knuckles, enjoying how her eyes darkened and her breath hitched.

“I like the way you think.”

“I'm thinking you should kiss me.”

“Oh, yeah,” he breathed. “I definitely like the way you think.” He dipped his head and brushed his lips over hers, wanting to take things slow, but she would have none of that. She cupped his head with her palm and met his mouth with a hungry, punishing kiss.

This was stupid. Crazy. He still hadn't gotten his shit together, didn't know if she was staying at ACRO or going home, didn't know what the future held for either of them, but dammit, he'd been drawn to her for months, and he wasn't going to turn back now. Not when she was rubbing against him so hard the friction was causing them to both start smoking.

He lowered her onto the bed, gently, but urgently. Her robe fell open, and a crimson flush settled across her breasts. She was shy and embarrassed, but eager, and she didn't cover herself. In fact, she pushed aside the loosened sash and let the robe fall completely open.

God, she was beautiful. Creamy white skin, small but perfect breasts tipped by apple-red nipples that tightened as he watched. He wanted to suckle them until she begged him to move his mouth lower… and yeah, buddy, he'd take that route at a hundred miles per hour.

Stretching out over her, he took her mouth again, and this time he was so worked up he groaned when her tongue met his. He reached between her legs, found her wet, hot, and when his fingers slid over her clit, she cried out.

“Please,” she whispered, arching against him. “Please…”

The thought of being inside her, of taking her virginity and making her his and his alone, reached up and grabbed every primal male instinct he had. The unevolved caveman in him grunted,
Mine
, while the more civilized side of him screamed that this was wrong. She was better than this. Better than him.

But that didn't stop him from ripping open his pants and letting out “Little Ryan,” as she'd called him during their online sex sessions.

“Ryan.” Meg was panting, pleading, rocking against him so his cock slid through her slippery folds and he was about to fucking lose it. Just one thrust, and he'd be home, buried in heaven and shouting to the angels.

He hadn't done that in ages. Not that he remembered anyway. He thought about the DVDs, the women on them, the rough, nasty sex, and his stomach churned. He now knew that the things Itor told him he'd done for them weren't true, but he had DVDs to prove that his sex life had been real enough.

“Can't wait,” Meg whispered. “Five years was too long to wait.” She slipped her hand between them and wrapped it around his shaft. He groaned, but when she angled her hips and shifted so he was poised at her entrance, something broke inside him.

Five years. Five years he hadn't remembered until mere hours ago. His memory still wasn't complete, and until he figured out how his sexual past fit into his memory puzzle,
he
wasn't complete.

It wasn't fair to give this woman less than a whole man, not after all she'd been through because of him.

“No,” he rasped, “no.” He rolled off her, pulling her with him so they were on their sides, face-to-face.

Dazedly, she blinked at him. “What… what's wrong?”

“I can't.” And man, it hurt to say that. Physically too, because his balls were freaking throbbing. The confusion and hurt on her face hit him right in the heart, and he smiled as reassuringly as he could, though his own pain probably turned his smile into a grimace. “I want to make you feel good.”

She stroked him again, and he nearly bit his tongue off. “I want that too.”

“Then let me. Just lay back and let me.” Gently, he removed her hand and placed it on her stomach. Her mouth fell open in protest, but he pushed her hand down until her fingers spread her sex. Slowly, he slid his own finger between hers, loving the little gasps she made against his neck as he began to work her.

Long passes through her slit made her pump her hips, and slow circles around her clit had her straining, pushing into his hand for more.

“Ryan…” She trailed off on a moan as he pushed a finger into her tight sheath.

Her slippery satin walls clenched around him, and he shuddered at the erotic sensation, as well as the fantasy of how great it would feel to replace his finger with his cock. He added another finger, turning his hand so he could draw his fingertips back and forth, as though calling her with a gesture. Each pass over the swollen pillow at the top of her passage made her blow little puffs of air, faster and faster, until her entire body flushed and her hips came off the bed.

She came with a muffled shout, and he damned near shot his load all over her stomach. Instead, he held her until her breathing evened out, and still, he didn't let her go. He needed to, he knew that, but for now—

Something beeped. His pants. Shit. He drew away, couldn't hold back a smile at the drowsy satisfaction in Meg's eyes as he dug into his pocket. The ACRO-issued cell phone his supervisor had shoved into Ryan's hand flashed a text message.

He was late for his appointment at Medical, and if he didn't get there in the next ten minutes, his sup was going to call out the hounds.
Fuck
.