Tempt Me Tonight (12 page)

Jessica had woken up on the back lawn of a frat house with no clear memory of the event, and then, as so many girls made the mistake of doing, she’d panicked and raced home to shower. Only late the next morning had her roommates talked her into calling the police. And because she and several witnesses had last remembered Richie giving her a drink at the party, he was going on trial.

But when Richie’s
DNA
didn’t show up on any of those cups or the panties, it would provide exactly what Trish needed to get justice for Richie. She could only hope it might finally get some fingers pointed at Dane Eldridge, too.

Just then, the phone rang and she wondered if it was the pizza guy, calling to tell her he’d be late bringing her dinner. Having just sent a quick note of thanks to Elaine for the Richie update, she reached for the receiver. “Hello?”

“Well?” Debbie. She should have figured. She’d spent most of the day at her parents’ house, and she’d purposely left her cell phone behind in the room.

“Well what?” Trish plopped her head back onto a pillow, sighing.

Debbie practically screeched on the other end. “Don’t you ‘well what?’ me, young lady. Out with it.”

Trish stiffened. Despite all that had happened, she’d decided to commit a mortal best friend sin and not tell Debbie the whole truth. Like the there-for-a-minute-I-thought-I-was-still-in-love-with-him part of the truth. That had been history talking, and it would be less painful to just do what she’d planned in the first place—keep the emotions out of it. “Well, I went to his door, his eyes nearly popped out of his head, I took off my dress, and we had wild sex.” She added a quick afterthought. “Oh, and then he fell asleep and I left.”

The phone stayed silent.

“Deb? You there?”

“Yeah. Just sort of stunned.”

“Why? You knew the plan.”

“I didn’t really think you’d be able to do it that coolly, that unemotionally. After all, the girl I know should be
gushing
as she tells me this story, giving me every ridiculous detail from what he was wearing to what he was having on his pizza.”

All right—wait just a minute here. “
Pizza?
How did you know he was having
pizza?
”

Debbie hissed in her breath, caught. “Oops. Sort of let the cat out of the bag there, didn’t I?”

“And I guess this cat’s name would be Kenny?”

“They had lunch together today. In the course of the conversation, I guess Joe mentioned he’d had pizza before you arrived. But to get to the point—”

“Yes, please do.”

Debbie let out a sigh. “Kenny said he seemed kind of…upset about the whole thing. So I wanted to hear your version.”

It was difficult to imagine the Joe she’d encountered the last two nights getting upset about sex, so Trish was skeptical. “Upset how?”

“Well, maybe upset isn’t quite right. But he was definitely mad at me for not warning him. And he was pretty mad at you, too, for leaving.”

Oh, mad, was he? Well, too bad.
She knew going there had been a mistake, that she
wasn’t
the cool, unemotional woman she’d just tricked Debbie into believing she was, but her regrets had nothing to do with
Joe’s
feelings—she had, quite honestly, been thinking only of herself, what
she
needed, what
she
wanted. It hadn’t even occurred to her that Joe would
have
feelings on the subject—other than the satisfaction of getting laid.

So what was his problem? Was he miffed because he hadn’t gotten to call the shots, make the moves, decide the precise moment when their little soiree drew to a close?

The
nerve
of him being mad!

So she’d gotten up and left. Big deal. Next to nothing compared to what
he’d
done to
her
all those years ago.

She held in her sudden gasp and shot to an upright position on the bed.

Oh God—was it true? Could she really still be angry with him over something that had happened fourteen long years ago? Could sex with Joe possibly have been what Debbie had accused her of—revenge?

Bleck.
She rolled her eyes and hoped to God not. She didn’t want to be that kind of petty, live-in-the-past woman—she
so
didn’t see herself that way.

“Trish, you there?”

“Uh, yeah.” Her stomach churned. At the moment, she wished she’d never come home, wished she’d never bumped into Joe at all.

Well, except for the fact that the sex had been mind-blowing and that finally having him inside her had surpassed her wildest expectations. But she was supposed to be getting that out of her system.

“Are you okay?” Debbie asked.

Numb with emotion, she was trying to formulate an answer when a brisk knock came on the door. The pizza guy. Which, it suddenly hit her, was probably some ridiculous subliminal choice caused by his kisses having tasted like pizza last night. “Deb, I’m fine, but my dinner’s here. Let me call you back after I eat.”

“All right,” Debbie sighed. “But make it snappy. I’m not done grilling you about this.”

“Swell,” Trish said, then hung up.

Suspecting her hair pointed in all directions, she quickly gathered it in a clip behind her head, grabbed the twenty she’d laid out on the dresser, and whipped open the door.

Joe leaned against the doorjamb wearing jeans and a white button-up shirt, her missing bra dangling from one outstretched finger.

She drew in her breath. Shocked that he wasn’t the pizza guy. And breathless at how darn good he looked.

His gaze dropped quickly to the money in her hand, then rose back to her eyes. “I know I’m good, but I wasn’t expecting you to pay me.”

Oh my. She wished she had a comeback, but the only one she could think of had to do with him
not
being good, and claiming
that
would just be silly. Thus she stood statue-still, mouth open.

“And if I
had
been planning to charge you, afraid twenty bucks wouldn’t cover it.”

No, she supposed not. If he were a gigolo, he’d be the high-priced kind. But she sure as hell couldn’t tell him
that,
either. Which left her utterly speechless, still. She wasn’t ready for this, him, right now.

“You forgot this,” he went on, unfazed, motioning to the bra. “Or was it supposed to be a souvenir?”

She still couldn’t talk, but she pulled herself together enough to scowl and snatch the bra from his fingertip.

“Good,” he said, the corners of his mouth turning up in only the slightest superior smile. “The last thing I need is another souvenir. Already have plenty.”

Joe tilted his head and peered into those gaping green eyes. If she wanted to make their sex just sex, two could play at that game. Besides, he’d be damned if he was going to tell her how disappointed he’d been to wake up and find her gone, and how much it bothered him even now—just seeing her.

Although she looked a hell of a lot different than she had last night. She’d traded in her black dress and stockings for a pair of gray drawstring running shorts and a pale green T-shirt that hugged her breasts nicely. Her hair was twisted up on top of her head and she wore no makeup. Her feet were bare. He was still damn pissed at her—but as the moment stretched on, he also became painfully aware that he wanted to kiss her. And not gently.

He’d spent the last couple of hours trying to think of her as just another woman, another roll in the hay, or on the couch—and he’d tried to convince himself that it truly meant nothing to her, either.

Problem was—he wasn’t buying. He kept remembering the way she’d looked at him when he’d been inside her, her gaze brimming with passion, but also something more. Something that ran wild and deep.

He knew he was acting like an asshole, but maybe if he was enough of a jerk, she’d admit the truth. “So was it good for you? Did I satisfy you? Or do you want to put on another tight little outfit and prance around in it for me again?”

Her eyes narrowed tightly just before she drew back her hand and slapped him. Hard.

He’d seen it coming, but hadn’t moved. And his cheek burned with some combination of shame and gratification, but he wasn’t done yet because he still hadn’t gotten what he wanted—an explanation. “Does the truth hurt, cupcake?”

She still said nothing and he was tired of standing outside, so he walked through the door and shut it, forcing her to take a step back.

“Get out,” she snapped, and he couldn’t help enjoying the fresh fury raging in her eyes.

“Not ’til I get what I came for.”

“Which is?”

“I want you to tell me what the hell happened last night.”

She raised her eyebrows, cool sarcasm invading her voice. “Weren’t you paying attention?”

Hmm, suddenly she was in rare form. “Refresh my memory. Start with what exactly you wanted from me and end with why you went sneaking out in the middle of the night.”

She hesitated, but only for a second. “I came because I wanted sex. And I left because I’d gotten it.”

The words caught him off guard. He hadn’t really thought she’d confirm Debbie’s story. But she’d said it with such conviction, so much that he almost believed it, and an invisible fist squeezed his heart.

When a knock came on the door, they both flinched. He looked at her as if to ask who was out there, at the same time telling her with his eyes that they weren’t anywhere near being done with this yet.

“I ordered pizza,” she said.

He yanked the twenty from her hand and flung open the door to find a bored-looking kid chewing gum and holding a pizza box. “Medium sausage and mushroom?”

Joe whisked it from his arms and thrust the twenty at him. “Keep the change.” He shut the door and strode briskly across the room, just past where she stood, to toss the pizza on the dresser.

And realized that the move had brought him way too close to her—only a few scant inches separated them.

And she hadn’t stepped away.

He could almost feel the heat emanating from her body, and a quick glance downward revealed her nipples puckering to life beneath her bra. It wasn’t a lengthy moment, just a too-long hesitation on her part—but when she did finally shift to put some distance between them, he realized he couldn’t let her go. Not that easily.

Instinct took over—he grabbed her hips and pulled her to him, tight. Her lush curves molded against him and his body went taut with the thick, consuming hunger he’d been trying not to feel.

“Aw, damn it, Trish,” he muttered. He buried his gaze deep in hers, trying to see what hid inside her. And when a long second passed and he still couldn’t tell, his body urged him to give up on her eyes and move to other areas.

He brought his mouth harshly down on hers and sank into the hot, glorious struggle of having her kiss him back just as hard. Anger and longing still battled inside him until more words spilled out. “If it’s sex you want, Trish, I’ve got plenty.”

He heard her labored breath as he rained brisk kisses on her neck, then moved back to punish her mouth—her lovely, delicate mouth. He’d not have believed such soft lips could kiss him with such feral power.

He leaned her back into the dresser, sliding one hand firmly to her ass to lift her onto it. Her legs spread for him naturally and he moved in, pushing hard against her. Coils of heat spiraled outward from where they connected.

They exchanged short, frantic kisses then, Joe getting lost in the friction as their bodies moved together. Damn, he wanted her—like he’d never wanted anything before. “Jesus,” he muttered as the sensations threatened to swallow him. He lifted his hand to the lush fullness of her breast, the move gruffer than intended, but her sharp intake of breath filled him with masculine satisfaction.

Trish feared she might faint—the pleasure was too swift, too hard.

But—
oh God, oh no
—she couldn’t do this! Not again.

She’d made a tragic error last night—but at least it had been
her
idea,
her
in control. This was something different entirely—the tables had turned. She
couldn’t
let him seduce her now. She already hurt too much as it was.

“Stop,” she said.

Both their bodies went painfully still and she felt for a moment as if they had transformed into some human sculpture of entwined lovers, forever frozen on the brink of ecstasy. Finally, he pulled back slightly, his hand still on her breast, to peer heatedly into her eyes. “Really?”

He sounded shocked, as if the demand was unfathomable. Her mind and body still reeled, with pleasure and yearning, and with the ugly lie she’d told him about it being only sex when it had quickly become so much more. Why had he come here? And why did he have to be so angry? She’d done nothing wrong—after all, two nights ago he’d invited her home for sex with no expectations or promises. Why was it so terrible that she’d done to him what he’d tried to do to her—have a one-night stand? People did it all the time; it wasn’t a highly unusual concept. Yet he’d somehow managed to make her feel like a criminal.

And now, here she was, back in his arms—and he was trying to turn her plan of one night into something even more confusing than she’d already created.

Their eyes locked, his filled with a passion that seemed almost brutal. “Answer me, damn it. Yes or no.” He spoke softer then. “If you say no, Trish, I’ll walk out that door and not look back—because whatever game you’re playing, I don’t like it. But if you say yes…I promise—I’ll make you feel things you’ve never felt before.”

Oh boy. Just like when he’d issued such assurances at the bar, she didn’t doubt him a bit, and heavy spasms of desire rippled relentlessly through her body in response. No man had ever said such things to her. And given that he’d already achieved that goal last night, wondering what deep pleasures awaited her if she allowed this to happen now, again, created a rock-hard temptation inside her.

But she had to say no. No, no, no. Her sanity depended upon it. If she slept with him again, she’d be lost to a man who had injected the worst hurt of her life straight into her heart, lost to a man who—when it came down to it—she had no reason to trust.