Aussie Rules (22 page)

His eyes were dark, and extremely solemn as he shook his head. “Actually, what I was hoping it would give you is a sense of…I don't know. Security.”

Security. Her greatest fantasy, and because it had continually eluded her, also her greatest fear. That he'd so cavalierly throw it around confused her.

And hurt. “You know what? I gotta go.” She fumbled for the door handle, but Danny beat her to it, locking it, waiting until she turned to glare at him.

“Go ahead and be pissed,” he said. “That'll make us a fine pair.”

“Danny—”

“I'm taking you home,” he grated out. “All the way home.”

“No.” She grappled with the lock, but became both horrified and humiliated to find her hands shaking.
Shaking
. “Oh, God.” She set her forehead to the glass. “I'm sorry. So sorry. I shouldn't have let you come for me. Not you.”

Gripping her shoulders, he pulled her around to look at him, his usually soft, melting eyes furious. “Why, because I hate knowing you're out there every night, all night? Because I hate knowing that one day a phone call in the middle of the night won't be necessary because
you won't be able to make a phone call?”

Backing away as far as she could, until the door handle dug into her back, she crossed her arms over her chest and hugged herself. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry you had to come out here tonight. I'm sorry I've made you mad.” She swallowed, blinked back tears. “I'm sorry I kissed you. I don't know why I did that, I never do that.”

He frowned. “What does that mean?”

“I don't like to kiss.”

He looked floored. “What?”

“Nothing. I don't want to talk about it.” She turned away. “And anyway, this is all your own fault.”

“How the hell do you figure that?”

She looked out the window, staring blindly into the night and uttered the truth for once. “Because you've never made a move on me,” she whispered.

He pulled back as if she'd slapped him. She felt his gaze boring into her but she had exhausted herself with that last outburst and didn't look at him, instead pressed her hot forehead to the cool glass.

The beat of silence stretched out, and in it she wanted to die. Thankfully, without another word, Danny shoved the truck into gear and steered back onto the highway and drove her home.

Which was good, really, because she didn't want to hear him apologize for not wanting her. She'd had enough humiliation for one night.

When he finally pulled into her driveway, she fumbled with the door, unable to get out quickly enough.

“Dimi—”

“Thank you,” she muttered, and ran out of his truck and into her place before he could do anything stupid. Before
she
could do anything stupid.

Like beg him to come in.

 

The San Francisco Regatta Hotel was big and far fancier than Mel would have picked on her own, but the Huttons had insisted that she and Bo join them—so they all climbed into the Huttons' limo waiting at the airport, and drove to the hotel.

Mel was quite certain the Huttons's credit card hadn't groaned and nearly keeled over on the spot at the front desk from the night's rate. Still muttering about it, she entered her posh, elegant hotel room and stood there feeling a bit like a bull in a china shop. Tossing her duffle bag onto the fancy, silky, perfectly made bed, she took a deep, calming breath.

Which backed up into her throat when she realized two things at once. One, her hotel door hadn't shut behind her. And two, that was because Bo stood in the opened doorway, watching her.

Damn it, she was still a little shaky from the adrenaline rush of the rough flight. She couldn't deal with him now, standing there looking disheveled and sexy.

“That was some flying,” he said.

She turned away and told herself that her stomach jangled because she was still shaken. “Yeah, well, that's what you get for getting on a flight you hadn't planned on.”

“Can't plan out your whole life, you know.”

Maybe not, but she'd tried. Planning meant a lot to her. It gave her a sense of routine, and routine was what had gotten her through some incredibly tough times.

He stepped closer. “Sometimes you've just got to wing it.”

Such as having sex with him, she supposed. Wild, erotic, earthy, glorious sex during which she knew she'd come with such ease it still blew her mind.

Not fair that he made her yearn and burn, and not just for another orgasm. He made her yearn and burn to be what she'd always secretly wished that she could be: spontaneous, easygoing, and…dare she even think it?…sexy.

With a soft laugh, he tugged lightly at her hair. “Earth to Mel.”

“I'm here.”

He looked at her for a moment. “That was a tough flight, and I meant what I said. You pulled it off with grace.”

“Imagine that. Me with grace.”

He didn't laugh with her. In fact, his face remained utterly solemn as he lifted his other hand and cupped her face.

Oh, God. “Don't,” she said shakily.

“Don't what? Touch you?”

“Right. And don't look at me like that, either. Like you're proud of me, like you care about me.”

“Too bad, since both apply.”

“No, they don't. Not really.” She took a step back. “Look, I'm a difficult woman—”

“Wow, there's a news flash.”

“I'm serious.”

“Me, too. Now, about that servicing.”

Her entire body leapt to attention at that, and she took another step back. Her thighs hit the mattress.

He came forward some more, and her hands came up to his chest. Beneath her fingers she could feel the steady beat of his heart. Hers wasn't nearly as steady, but she told herself that that was lingering adrenaline from the flight. She opened her mouth to say something, she had no idea what, but her cell vibrated in her pocket. The ID was foreign, possibly Mexican, and now her poor overworked heart skipped a beat entirely.

Bo cut his eyes to the cell. “Sally.”

She hurriedly flipped it open. “Hello?” Nothing. “Hello? Sally?”

More nothing.

She and Bo stared at each other. “Bad connection,” she said slowly, closing the phone with great reluctance. They looked at it for a long moment, both more strained than they'd been on the crazy flight here, but it didn't ring again.

“Call back,” Bo said tightly.

She punched in all the numbers, then locked gazes with him while it rang somewhere far away, her heart pounding, pounding…

No one answered.

“It could have been a wrong number,” she murmured. “Not Sally—”

Bo put a finger over her lips, his eyes hot, dark, and fascinating. “I can take a lot, Mel, and have, but no more lies, not from you.”

She'd hurt him. She hadn't meant to, but she had. When he'd first shown up here, she'd been prepared to hate him on principle, had wanted to hate him. But then he'd brought in customers when she couldn't. He'd kept the employees when maybe he shouldn't. He'd given her a lease that set her up for a good long time.

He hadn't sold…

At least not yet.

All of which was more than she could say for Sally, who'd vanished on them, no warning, no help, nothing.

In sharp contrast, Bo had been here for her, for all of them, and no anger could hold up to that. “I'm not lying to you,” she said, and waited until he met her gaze. “I really don't know where she is, I swear it. I never have.”

“What about the money you sent her?”

“Always electronically to her account.”

“So who's trying to warn you off digging for more info, Mel?”

She closed her eyes. “I don't know.”

“Yes, you do. It's her.” He put his hand against her throat, then slid his fingers into her hair, lightly tugging on her ponytail so he could stare deep into her eyes. She did her best to convey her honesty, but knew he had no reason to trust her.

“What else aren't you telling me?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

She licked her lips, and his gaze dropped to them, his eyes glittering. “Seriously,” she said. “You know it all now.”

He waited, every muscle tense.

“No more lies, Bo,” she whispered. “I promise.”

“That's quite a promise.”

“I mean it.”

He laughed a little harshly, but then he lowered his head so that he was a mere breath away. Their gazes locked, held…

And then he kissed her, and all wondering and worrying went out the window along with her good intentions and common sense. He changed the angle of the kiss to suit him, opening his mouth, sliding his tongue to hers in a dance as old as time. “Mel,” he breathed, just that, and clamped her head between his big hands, nibbling, licking, sucking, and all around driving her right off the edge of sanity and straight into lustville. She was clinging to him, whimpering, panting, desperate, when he pulled back.

“Say it again,” he demanded.

She tried to take a step back, and fell onto the mattress.

Bo stepped between her thighs, leaning over her, staring into her eyes with a single-mindedness that brought her out of her fog, barely. “Say it. Say ‘no more lies, Bo.'”

She blinked. Focused past the sensual haze in her brain. “Is that why you kissed me?”

“When I kiss you, you become the real Mel, no holding back, no lies, no façades. Just you. It's like a truth serum.”

She stared up at him, hurt sneaking in past her defenses. She'd nearly torn off her clothes and begged him to take her. “That's a horrible thing to do. Get out of my room.”

“Gee, you must be done talking.”

“I'm done with
you
.”

Still leaning over her, a hand on either side of her hips, he shook his head. “Look at that, another lie already.”

“What does
that
mean?”

“Come on, you feel the sparks, too.”

“Yeah, sparks of temper!”

“Yet another lie,” he said very softly.

She let out a frustrated growl.

“Fact is fact, darlin'. Our bodies are happy together.”

She shook her head.

“Look at me.”

She couldn't help it, her gaze ran over him. His well-worn jeans softly cupped his sex, which was obviously aroused. Her mouth went dry.

Worse, she began to perspire again.

“Now you,” he said.

She transferred her attention to her body, specifically her own breasts and her traitorous nipples, which poked through her shirt like two gumballs.

He arched a brow.

She crossed her arms.

“Doesn't help,” he said. “Now I'm wondering what other parts of you are reacting.”

Her thighs actually quivered, and between them…more quivering.

As if he could tell, he smiled.

She was shaking as she pointed to the door, because damn, she really hated when he was right. “Get out.”

Instead, he laughed. “You don't really mean that.”

She opened her mouth to say she did, but the message didn't make it all the way to her brain, and as he came down over her, arms closing possessively around her, she didn't say a word. Instead she moaned his name and met his mouth with hers.

T
here was kissing, and then there was
kissing
, and with Bo it was an art form.

Mel had had lovers, a few who even knew what they were doing, but none had ever made her knees quiver with just a touch of their mouth. None had ever made her feel as if his kiss was more important in that moment than breathing.

None had ever made her feel soft and beautiful and feminine.

With Bo, she could hold on and feel her world slide away, feel despair and stress and churning grief over Sally and her deception vanish behind the maelstrom of need and desire and hunger for more of this man's touch. She felt—crazy as it seemed—calmer. So when his tongue teased hers, she teased back. When he reached for her shirt, she did the same with his, coaxing a rough sound of pleasure from his throat, one she helplessly mirrored back to him.

“Love that sound,” he murmured, pulling her closer, kissing her as if he meant to inhale her, pressing himself against her as if he needed to be inside her now, now, now…making an unbearably sexy noise when his thumb rubbed over a pebbled nipple and it tightened even further.

She'd had no idea how badly she'd wanted this, but she needed to remember one pesky little fact: he'd kissed her simply to get information. That made this a very bad idea. “Wait,” she gasped.

“Wait?” His gaze was sleepy-lidded and incredibly sexy. His hair was messed up from her fingers, his mouth wet from hers, his eyes hot.

“We're not taking this any further,” she said.

He looked at her for a long moment, as if the words were having trouble sinking in. “You want me to go.”

No
. “Yes.”

He nodded agreeably. “Then I will. Soon as you look into my eyes and tell me you don't want me.”

She opened her mouth, ready to tell him anything so she could be alone but nothing came out. “I don't…” The words were
I don't want you
.

“Yes?” he asked patiently.

The words sat on the tip of her tongue, a big fat lie, stuck, unwilling to come out. “Damn it!”

With a triumphant laugh, he pressed his face into the tumble of her hair. His voice sounded thick with satisfaction. “All you have to do is say it. Say you don't want me and I'm out of here.”

She had to close her eyes against that strong, masculine voice.

“Let's try something easier,” he suggested with far too much amusement in his voice. “Say you
do
want me.”

“Never.”

“Ah, darlin'. Have I taught you nothing? Never say never.”

“I don't—” She sucked in a breath when he nipped at her jaw, then her throat as he skimmed his hands down her back.
“Bo—”

He flicked open her bra and moaned when her breasts spilled into his hand. “Mmm…nice.”

“We're
not
—” She broke off again when he bent and sucked a breast into his mouth, encircling her nipple with his tongue. “Not. Doing. This—”

Surging up, he popped open the button on his pants.

Oh, God. If he shoved those off, she was a goner. It was bad enough when he had his shirt off because he had the best belly known to man, the kind of belly she wanted to kiss.
Bite
. Frantic, she rolled to her stomach to crawl away.

A big hand clasped her ankle. “You haven't said it.” He slowly but inexorably tugged her back, then flipped her over. Holding her down, he smiled with pure wickedness.

“I'm not saying anything!”

“Suit yourself.” He pinned her to the mattress, overpowering her, which she allowed, especially when he set his forearms alongside her face so that his fingers could stroke back her hair. The tender gesture startled her. He was heavy but not uncomfortable. The opposite, actually, and even as she wanted to deny it, her body was doing a slow burn for him, and of their own accord, her legs bent, pulling back to let him cradle between. With a rough groan, he rocked his hips to hers. “Mel.”

She whispered his name, too, or at least she meant to but it came out a sort of strangled plea for
more, please more
as she strained to fit snugger against him. She told herself this was ridiculous, that they were adults and could stop this at any time, and should. Instead, she wound her arms around his neck and clung.

“Mmm,” he murmured, and gently closed his teeth over her bottom lip, tugging just a little, creating a slight sting he stroked away with his tongue. “Still not saying it…”

Her skin had heated as if she had a fever, but she didn't feel sick, she felt exhilarated. It was him, he gave that feeling to her with every taste, every touch, banishing away her worries, the mountains of stress on her shoulders. Banishing it and giving her something else instead, something she absolutely did not want to face. “I'm too stubborn to give in,” she admitted softly.

“Just one of the things I'm learning to appreciate about you, darlin'. Though I might have said bull-headed instead of stubborn.”

Arching up, enjoying his sharp hiss of arousal, she said, “Shut up and do me.”

“Oh, absolutely.” His low laugh warmed her further, and so did how he kissed his way along her jaw to her ear. “But let the record show you asked.”

“Told.”

“Begged.”

Before she could sputter and shove him away, he captured her mouth with his in a deep, wet, carnal kiss that left no doubt as to his plans, plans he furthered along by stripping away her pants while still holding her pinned to the mattress.

“Not fair,” she gasped. “
Your
pants—”

“If I take my hands off you, are you going to play nice?”

“Of course.”

He narrowed his eyes, but an aroused man didn't have much in the way of working brain cells, and Bo was little exception. He pulled his weight off her and sat back on his heels as he unzipped his pants, the muscles in his rock-solid chest rippling, leaving her with a shocking need to put her mouth on him. Anywhere. Everywhere.

He eyed her as he slowly pulled a string of condoms from his pocket, dropping them to the mattress by her head as he kicked off his shoes, then came up to his knees to shove his pants to his thighs.

That actually sidetracked her for a beat, as her gaze traveled south and locked on her target. She didn't realize that she licked her lips in anticipation until a choked out “oh, man” escaped him.

When he sat to kick the pants off his legs, she made her move, pouncing, tackling him midchest and taking him down to the bed, making sure to grab the condoms before they hit the floor.

Now he lay beneath her, his pants still at his thighs as she straddled his hips, gliding her hands along his arms, holding him down at the biceps, which flexed once, then went still.

“Is this your way of playing nice?” he murmured, lying still like a panther; poised, patient, just waiting to make his move.

“Believe me,” she said, “what comes next is going to be nice. Very nice.”

“Please be gentle,” he quipped, but lay there, surprisingly pliant.

Ha! As if he'd ever been pliant a day in his life. “Did you worry about gentle the last time?” she asked. “When you shoved me against my own front door and had your merry way with me?”

“Hey, I'm the one with rug burns on my ass.”

The memory of him sprawled out on her floor while she ran her mouth over that edible body tightened hers. “Complaining?”

“Not likely.”

Never underestimating him, she remained crouched over the top of him, the both of them well aware that he could have easily reversed their positions if he wanted.

“What are you going to do with me?” he asked.

In answer, she tore off a condom.

“Good start,” he said sounding a little pressed for air.

With a smile, she went to work protecting them both, stroking the condom down his silky hard length, probably taking far longer than necessary but she found she got a vicarious thrill out of the sounds he made when she stroked him. By the time she finished, Bo was sweating and she was shaking. “They should make those things bigger,” she said, and he let out a laughing moan. She bent over him again, pressing her lips to his jaw, then his throat, overcome by a sudden need to be gentle.

He gripped her hips, his laughter also gone. “Mel?”

“Yeah?”

“You're killing me.”

“Oh! Sorry!” She tried to lift her weight off him but he held her still.

“No, not too heavy. I meant because I'm going to explode and you haven't done anything to me yet.”

She eyed his penis, which twitched. “Ah. Well…”

“What?”

“I hate to ask…”

“Ask,”
he said, looking a little desperate.

She stroked a finger over him, loving how that made his back arch up a bit, his hips push almost helplessly toward her. “I was thinking…”

“Seriously,” he grated out. “
Anything,
Mel.”

Power surged through her at that. “Maybe you could beg me for a change.”

His eyes locked onto hers. His fingers tightened on her hips, and the air charged, crackled, and popped around them. She'd bet her Hawker that he'd never begged for a single thing in his entire life. Never had to.

He slid one hand from her hip to low on her back, nudging her forward just a tad. Now the very tip of his erection teased her right where she wanted him the most. It tore a sound from deep in her throat, a sound that came awful close to begging so she clamped her lips shut, her hands flat on his pecs, her head bowed, air panting in and out of her mouth as if she'd just raced a marathon in the snow, uphill both ways. “Beg me, damn it.”

His lips quirked, though she could feel him tremble as he cupped a breast. “I'm getting to it.”

“Clearly,” she managed, biting her lips to keep a gasp in when he used his long fingers to tease her nipple, “you are not desperate enough, a state you put me in quite effortlessly.”

He shot her a cocky grin. “Is that right?”

Damn it. “Oh, that's
so
it.
Prepare for desperation
.” Reaching down, she wrapped her fingers around his hot, velvety length and stroked him against her, for her own pleasure.

His fingers tightened on her hips. A rough groan tumbled from him.

Hmmm. Now they were getting somewhere. She stroked him over her again until he glistened with her own excitement, and then again right…where…she…needed…him…the…most—

“Christ,” he said thickly. “Look how beautiful you are.”

She skimmed her free hand up over her own belly, her ribs, then her breast.

“Oh, God.” His eyes darkened. Went opaque. “Definitely feeling desperate here, Mel.”

“If you were desperate,” she panted, desperate herself, thank you very much, “you wouldn't be able to talk.” Again she stroked him over her, but that turned out to be a two-edged sword because her own body was reacting, heating, tightening. Begging. Because she had to, she allowed the very tip of him to slip inside her, stretching her sensitized flesh, stretching and filling—

“More.” Breathing hard, he arched up.
“More.”

She was dying for more, but she shook her head. “Not yet.”

With a groan, he pushed his hips up, his hands trying to urge her closer, to let all of him in. His abs were tight, his nipples tight, his skin hot and damp, his eyes all but flaming as they held hers, letting her see everything he felt, which was possibly the sexiest, most arousing thing she'd ever experienced.

And just like that, with his fingers on her breast and only the tip of him inside her, she began to lose it.

“Oh, yeah,” he murmured, and grazed his thumb over her clit.

That was it, all she needed, and she was gone, completely gone, in a spectacular orgasm that left her deaf, blind, and mute.
“God,”
she finally breathed as she sank down over his chest like warm putty. “What
is
that?”

“I don't know, but stick around, there's more.”

Stick around…The thought might have made her sad because he
wasn't
going to stick around, but then he thrust up into her, filling her to bursting.

His hands gripped her hips, set her rhythm as she rode him, and when she heard him call out her name in a hungry, heated voice, it—unbelievably—sent her skittering over the edge again.

He joined her that time, and as she fell, she thought…It's so easy with him. So damned easy, it terrified her.