The Risqué Target (15 page)

His rough, husky tone tapped every nerve in her body. His voice, and the hard thickness pressed against her, were filled with lethal and heated promise.

****

Resting his forearms on his thighs, Tantum cupped his chin with his hand. Sitting in the chair, he watched her sleep. Her long blond hair was in stark contrast to the black silk sheets, and her pale flesh almost glowed against it. The only sound, her soft breathing, brushed his ears and went to his heart.

She was beautiful, from her headstrong stubbornness to her tiny, faint freckles. Everything about her seeped straight into his soul.

These foreign feelings swarming inside, fucking with his head, annoyed the living hell out of him, especially after what she'd done to him. She’d almost killed him, for God’s sake. He knew he should tie her to a chair and leave her while he figured everything out and finished his investigation, only coming back to water and feed her every couple of days like a houseplant. But all his rationality about her was gone. The only thing he really wanted to do was hold her in his arms and kiss her.

His sleeping beauty, or perhaps more aptly, his little hellion, rolled onto her side. She blinked and opened her eyes. Silently she matched his deadpan stare, glare for glare.

“Why'd you come back?” he asked curiously.

“Because not all of us are killers,” she hissed.

Weary of that accusation, he pushed himself up from the chair, crossed to her and thrust out his hand. “Stand up.”

A flicker of fear smothered the flames in her eyes. She didn’t move a muscle. “Why?”

He grabbed her hand, yanked her up and spun her around. Her back hit the wall. Trapped between him and the immovable barrier, she glared at him as he rested a hand against the wall—not on her as he desired. The quiver he felt at her nearness took him by surprise.

Her scent filled his nose, enticing him to inhale deeper, to take in more of her. Out the corner of his eye, he caught her following his every move. He feared that if she watched closely enough she might notice the tremors in his body. He fought to regain control and take back the power she inadvertently had over him. “It's about time we establish some trust here.”

“Trust?” She cocked a brow. “After kidnapping me, keeping me prisoner, and threatening me?”

“And after you tossed me off a moving vehicle, then poisoned me with valium. No trust, then? All right. You leave me no choice.” He leaned in close, whispering in her ear, “Let’s deal with those consequences.”

“So, you mean to force yourself on me?”

“No.” He raised a finger to her cheek and drew it along the side of her face. “I won't have to. You want me as much as I want you, Nala Dekker. You know it, and I know it.” He covered her mouth with his hand before she could get started. He paused and raised a warning eyebrow when he felt her teeth. “And you’re going to admit that truth. That's where we're going to start with our trust.”

She remained completely still as he gradually removed his hand from her mouth.

“You're going to tell me the truth about what your body feels when I'm this close to you.” He leaned in, barely touching her. His body started to shake again.
Shit! What's wrong with me?

Nothing. Everything.

Because last night when she returned, everything had changed.

The stark alarm and the ashamed expression on her face spoke her denial. “What exactly are you going to offer me in return?”

“I'll give you something you want.”

“Believe me, there's nothing
you
have that
I
could possibly want.”

His finger ran down her arm, along her velvety skin. She didn’t flinch from his touch as he lowered his voice to a whisper. “I'll give you the file you had on me.” Her eyes widened, and he smiled. “I'll let you read the entire thing.”

“A friendly bargain? Just like that?”

“The game you promised to play with me.” His finger trailed along the curve of her hip, down to the end of her shirt, pausing at her naked thigh. “Only this time, no pretending.” The finger slithered under her shirt, her belly soft beneath his touch.

Unreadable, her eyes didn’t waver from his. She offered no protest as he continued his exploration. He traced the lining of her panties, and when she still didn’t stop him, he became eager. Ready. She blinked, and confusion flooded her pale blue eyes as though reality had just opened the door without bothering to knock. “What if I tell you I'm not attracted to you?” she spat out. “That I find you revolting?”

“Then I'd say….” He slipped his hands beneath her panties, past her soft mound of curls, through her wetness, and drove his finger deep inside her warm and welcoming pussy. “I'd say….” He pulled out and plunged his finger back inside, deeper this time. “Sweetheart, this doesn’t feel like revulsion to me.”

Her hand latched onto his biceps, and her nails dug into his flesh. The slight tinge of pain brought heat to the tip of his cock. Her back arched from his touch. She glared up at him through half-opened eyes, stricken eyes. She wanted him, too, but his little wild kitten continued to scratch and claw.

He admired the fight in her as her grip tightened on his arm. Easing his finger out of her, he slid it slowly along her secret hidden flesh. She bit her lip, and he wondered if she was holding back a moan. If she was, he had every intention of bringing it out of her. “Ah… does that feel good, Nala?” he asked as he drew his finger up and down against her clit.

Her response, the breathless, urgent gasps, excited him.

“Is this where you touch yourself when you're alone in your room?” He stroked her. “Your legs spread apart, hand down between them, touching this very spot? You think no one knows what you're doing?” He quickened his strokes. “Well, I do, sweetheart, and believe me, you're not the only one who knows exactly where to touch, precisely how to stroke.” And with that he plunged his finger deep into her.

Her body stilled, except for her nails, which continued to dig into his arm muscles.

Caught up in her bedroom eyes, he studied her. The raw wildness between her heavy lids reached right inside and yanked on his ever-growing erection. “You're so beautiful.” He couldn’t take it back because it had already left his mouth, so instead he kissed her. He pumped his finger in and out of her, imagining it was his hard cock, and kissed her again.

“Tantum….” Her voice shook, hot and erratic.

“Sweetheart,” he taunted back, his own breathing slightly labored.

“I-I can't,” she said, panting. “I can't….” She was clearly having trouble getting the words out.

He smiled, and she sneered audaciously back at him. His finger delved inside her, and her hips moved to the rhythm of his motion. The loss of her esteemed battle crumbled upon the tip of his probing finger. She was writhing from his touch. He had her right where he wanted her. “Oh, but you can, my little control freak,” he said.

“Control freak?” she said, her words roughened by the urgent intake of air when he started to stroke her again.

“Yes, Nala. You are a control freak. I bet the guys you took to your bed allowed you to be that way, too.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” Her words were throaty and hoarse as his finger continued to slowly rub her clit.

“Oh, I know. See, that's your problem. You can't give up that control of yours. But me? Sweetheart, I don't play that game. No fucking way. And believe me, you'd shoot to the moon. Your little toes would curl. Your back would arch. You'd scratch and fight, but in the end, you'd give it to me. You can feel it, can't you?” He dipped his finger back inside of her, plunging forcefully. “You're losing it right now, aren't you? The release of all that pent-up control. It wants to be set free, Nala.” He could see it in her eyes. “Those sweet lips of yours… they want to scream it right out of you.”

“Please,” she pleaded, her body thrashing beneath his touch, begging for more.

“Please what, sweetheart? Do you like me playing with your pussy, rubbing your clit or….” His thrusts became more forceful, “Is this what you want?”—he plunged two fingers into her— “my cock in this tight warm place, fucking you until it hurts?”

Tempting himself, Tantum impaled deeper, wishing it were indeed his cock. “You know what I want. Give it to me. Admit you want this. Tell me I can have you any way I want.” He withdrew from her and slid his finger over her satiny flesh.

“No, don’t stop.” She shuddered.

“Why should I continue? You're not telling me what I need to hear. Should I tie you up and make you say it, or are you going to be a good girl and give me what I ask?”

He needed her to surrender before
he
fucking did. His control was withering. Her release was so close. He knew it would take just a few more strokes upon her silky flesh. Oh yeah, he had her right where he wanted her.

But still he somehow felt duped. Slowing his movement, her body followed his motion. There were a few small jolts until she became still, and her breathing evened out.

He wanted to bring her to the place that would have her calling out his name, but his finger continued to slow until it came to a complete stop.

“I-I can't—” She took a few shallow breaths and blew a lock of hair from her face, panting as if she’d just run a marathon.

With her silky-smooth wetness on his finger, he waited for her to finish her sentence.

“I can't help the way my body responds to you.” She inhaled, catching her breath. “Look at you,” she said, finally getting the words out.

They were words he didn’t want to hear, and they cut like a knife to his heart. He should have been happy. He'd succeeded in seducing her. She was putty in his hands, wet and ready. But damn it, he didn’t fucking want her like that. He didn’t want it to be only his body she couldn’t resist.

Abruptly pulling his hand out from panties, he pinned her to the wall and kissed her hard on the mouth. He pulled back and glared at her through his anguish, through his growing frustration. But when he looked at her, all he could remember was the feel of her fingers in his hair, like a home in his heart, a place that didn’t consist only of walls. He’d tried so hard to destroy the lies, the fantasy that someone could care for him and want more than sex from him.
Fuck you, Nala
! He began to tremble, but this time from the anger building inside, anger at himself for thinking like a fool that she would want anything from him other than his cock and that file.
She’ll never care for you, you dumb ass,
he told himself
.

“Tell me you want me,” he roughly demanded, “and let's get this over with.”

He needed to get the hell away from before he fell for her. His heart was already softening, all set to go splat on the floor.
You can do this
, he coached himself.
You handled The Iris Flower
. The difference was, she had been guilty. With Nala, the jury still sat in the box, and there was no verdict yet. Fury surged through him, and he slammed his fists into the wall. “Kiss me!” he demanded, but an aggressive voice screamed in his head,
Grab her! Fuck her until she screams! Kiss her! Take her, you idiot!

She must have sensed it because her eyes widened in terror and she shook her head. “Tantum, no!”

He admitted defeat. He couldn’t take this any longer. He pressed against her, trapping her to him, revealing his antagonistic arousal. He kissed her tense, closed mouth. She winced, but he refused to let her go until she, too, surrendered. Claiming her lips, he sipped them each time more forceful than the last. Eventually he won, for she gave in and opened for him. His greedy tongue lashed out in fleeting, searching sweeps. He heightened the kiss and savagely drank from her, not getting enough.

Grabbing the hair at the back of her neck, he tugged slightly. Her passion-filled eyes only aggravated his erection as he commanded again, “Tell me you want me!” He reclaimed her mouth. “Say it!” He heard his voice, harsh, demanding.

He nipped and suckled her lips. She joined him in the heated mating of their tongues. Her hands gripped his shoulders, and she became frenzied, seeking his hot tongue, frolicking with it. He ground his pelvis into her, and that was when he heard it: A sweet moan escaped her throat. “Now, sweetheart….” He thrust his hardness against her again. “Let me hear more.” He tugged her hair, forcing her attention to his eyes. “What do you want? Tell me, my mouth on yours?” He asked and waited. “No.” He shifted his head slightly to the side.

A glimmer of lust clouded her baby blues. Her weakness was unfolding. She struggled, but the rapture of the moment flooded from her. Had he unlocked it, the passion she desperately tried to hide in her eyes?