Intrusion (23 page)

“Like what you see?”

He arched a self-assured brow, and she couldn’t stop a bubble of laughter from popping in her chest. “Yeah, I like what I see.”

“Good.” He eased on the bed next to her and she scooted back to give him more room. His fingers trailed up the flat of her belly to her breast, his thumb scraped across her nipple. “Because I love what I see.”

Except he wasn’t looking at her body, he was looking at
her
—into her—as if he could see all her fears and flaws and accepted them.

He leaned down and pressed his mouth to her breast, his tongue slashing across her nipple, waging a seductive war on more than just her body. She buried her fingers in his hair and let his mouth work its magic over her. He reached down to stroke her even more intimately and her hips came off the bed.

Tears ravaged her throat. She wanted so much to just let go. To stop being analytical and methodical about everything. But self-preservation had forced that role on her and she didn’t know how to throw caution to the wind and take a chance.

She pushed at Cam’s shoulders. He dropped onto his back and she touched her lips to his chest, snagging control of her emotions and forcing them back where they belonged—on the physical sensations swirling between them.

Cam’s warm skin held a slightly salty tang. It mingled with the hint of soap and sandalwood on her tongue. She nipped her way down his stomach with her teeth, his arousal straining against her hand.

He groaned above her, gripped her shoulders. “Come here.” He hauled her completely on top of him.

His mouth ravaged hers, hot and hungry, his hands guiding her hips over him. He entered her, filled her and she cried out at the overwhelming pleasure that shook her body.

He broke the kiss to suck in a breath between his teeth, and then he flipped her on her back, moving inside her with slow, purposeful strokes that sent her closer and closer to the edge.

Their hands collided as they fought to caress each other, their mouths meeting and breaking apart in a sensual dance that had her heart fluttering in her chest like butterfly wings.

Was there anything Cam didn’t do well? He knew exactly how to touch her, when she needed to be kissed, where she wanted to be stroked.

Her orgasm hit her with the force of a molecular explosion, tiny particles of energy bursting and swirling inside her. Before she could catch her breath, Cam was right there with her, shuddering his own climax, and drawing her into his fierce embrace.

He kissed her, his hot tongue sweeping inside her mouth. Another wave of shivers wracked her body and she clutched at his shoulders desperate to hold on to a shred of her common sense amidst the tide of emotions charging between them.

Don’t let go. Please don’t let go.

The plea whispered in her head, churning violently until she gave it voice.

“Don’t let go.” The words choked from her throat, but she didn’t know if they were meant for her or for Cam.

He gathered her closer, pressing a fervent kiss against her temple. “Never. I’ll never let you go.”

The conviction in his husky voice speared a burst of happiness through her, but she squeezed her eyes closed, shutting it out, and prayed he wouldn’t ask her for more than she already gave.

***

Cam woke with Audra’s warm naked body pressed against him. He blinked his eyes against the weak light filtering in through the window then angled his head to check the digital clock on the nightstand. Waking at eight a.m. after a few measly hours of sleep had never felt so damn good.

Audra stirred in his embrace. Immediate arousal ignited inside him, fanned by the remembrance of the way she’d come apart in his arms. God, she was lovely—and she’d stolen yet another chunk of his heart he’d never get back.

He brushed a strand of hair out of her face and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled. “Morning.”

“So it is.” His throat ached from emotions that begged for a voice.

Don’t say it, pal. She’s not ready to hear it.

He leaned forward and kissed her. She strained against him and before he knew how it happened, they were grasping each other, dipping, twisting in a frenzied coupling that put his heart through a blender.

She gasped and collapsed on the bed beside him, but he found even after another bout of soul rocking, heart wrenching love making, he still wasn’t ready to let her go. He ran a finger over her jaw, trailed it down her neck, stopping between her breasts where he laid a palm over her heart.

“I love you.”

As soon as the words left his lips, she jolted up in bed. Caught off balance, she slipped off the edge and hit the floor. She came to her feet almost immediately, her eyes so wide and desperate that only one reaction rose on his lips.

“Fuck.” He knocked his skull against the headboard. Damn it, why hadn’t he exercised a little more freakin’ caution?

She snatched her clothes from the floor, her movements jerky as she tried, unsuccessfully, to pluck her shirt from the pile. Her silence hadn’t escaped his notice.

He sat up in bed. “Let me guess. You don’t do love.”

She froze and he felt like a bastard for backing her into a corner this way. But he’d be damned if he’d let her walk without some sort of response.

She straightened, her head turned toward the door. “Not the kind you’re thinking.”

He shoved off the bed, frustration making it impossible to remain sitting in the one spot that moments before had been his little slice of paradise. “Enlighten me, then, because I thought there was only one kind.”

A breath visibly shuddered from her as she turned to face him. “That soul stirring, heart gripping, all consuming kind of love…I can’t…I don’t…” She blinked away the sheen of moisture he glimpsed in her eyes. “I do surface love. Don’t look below the surface, because there’s nothing there, Cam.” Her voice broke. “Nothing.”

Panic squeezed his chest in a vice. “Try again.”

She clutched her camisole to her breasts, her hands wringing the fabric. “I care about you, I do. But to make it into something deeper—”

“Stop. Just stop.” The demand ripped from his throat and made Audra flinch. Yeah, he was a world-class jerk. A pain in the ass. A screw-up. But he’d been so sure Audra had seen much more—a winner to pin her hopes on—if only he could get her to admit it.

He reached for her. “You have to drop the damn armor, Audra. Stop guarding your heart as if you’re wearing that fucking prototype you’ve poured every drop of passion into.”

She sidestepped him. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Come on, had she really never examined her motives? “Out of all the technology you could’ve designed, why did you pick that one?”

“Because it’ll save lives and—”

“Protect hearts.” This time he didn’t let her feint from his touch. “Drop the armor, sweetheart. Just...let it go.” He touched her cheek, ran his thumb across her trembling mouth. “I love you. You don’t think it scares me to say it? It scares the ever loving shit out of me, because—if you don’t feel the same—how am I going to deal with that? But, you know what? Every moment I spend with you I’m a little less afraid to explore what I feel for you, and more afraid to let this opportunity pass me by.”

He held his breath, hoping she’d capitulate. But, instead, she wilted, her lips mashing into a hard line. “I can’t.”

He released her, and for the first time he was the one who turned his back on her. “Boy, it must kill you that your armor was stolen. Nothing to hide behind.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. The sound sliced through him, but he steeled himself against compassion.

“Yeah, it does kill me. Because my life sucks right now, Cam. If we don’t succeed in getting my prototype back, if Coburn escapes, I’ll be the one going back to jail. My reputation, my job, everything I’ve worked for will be gone. I can’t afford to engage my heart in this right now.”

A clap of thunder shook the window and he stepped over to it, emotion squeezing at his throat and robbing him of the ability to speak. Rain poured from the skies echoing the storm in his heart.

Winners or losers. Once again it all came down to that. She was afraid to count on him. How could he expect her to love him when he might bring failure down on their heads?

Love isn’t for losers, son.

His father’s words ripped through him once again. He curled his hand into a fist, wanting so badly to relieve some of the tension that rippled up his arm.

“Cam…”

Audra’s whisper defused the futile anger roiling through his gut. He turned away from the window, with a shake of his head. He couldn’t look at her, not without breaking down and begging her to love him.

Just love me.

Was that so damn hard to do?

Cam clenched his jaw, shook his head. He scooped his boxers off the floor and shoved his legs through them, desperate to get away from Audra and clear his head.

Tonight he had to be focused, on his game. He strode from the room well aware he’d left her to stare after him.

***

Margaret’s short sleeve shirt clung to her body as she paced the length of the small room. She swiped another bead of sweat from her brow. Why was it so hot in here?

The windowless room made her skin crawl. She pulled the cotton fabric of her blouse away from her skin with aching fingers. So far her many attempts to pry her way out of her temporary prison had met with failure. The door wouldn’t budge, and since Russ had sequestered her in an interior room, banging on the wood was futile.

Maybe she should be grateful he had kept his word, putting her in a place with a decent bed, a well-stocked refrigerator, a microwave to nuke her TV dinners and a small bathroom with a shower stall. But she was done, no longer naïve enough to look for the good in him. He’d broken her by forcing her to abandon her daughter this way.

Now, something was wrong with the blasted thermostat, she missed Noelle with a desperation that choked sobs from her, and she couldn’t bear to spend another night glowering at the briefcase on the shelf.

“The armor will be safer here with you, Mags,” Russ had said. “I’ll come back for it soon.”

She hadn’t argued, but she wished she had. Every time she looked at it, it mocked her.
You’re so gullible.

She didn’t want to be that woman anymore. What kind of example was she providing to Noelle? That of a doormat. For once she was going to do something proactive. Starting with finding a way out of here.

How? She’d given up on the door. No amount of battering had done any good, and though she’d happily take the risk of jumping out of a window, there wasn’t one. She sagged onto the bed, tipping back her head. There had to be a way…

Her gaze collided on the large white rectangular grate in one corner of the drop ceiling. The ventilation system! She jumped to her feet and went to stand directly under it. If she could pry off the grate and get inside she could follow the maze of ductwork to another room.

Could she really do something so bold, so risky? What if the space was too tight and she became stuck? What if she got disoriented or lost up in the ductwork and couldn’t find her way?

Nerves tightened her stomach, swirling nausea up into her throat. She dashed to the bathroom and retched into the toilet. The taste of bile filled her mouth and she swished it out with water from the faucet.

She didn’t have a choice.
Come on, you know the layout just as well as anyone. You can do this.
She hurried back into the room. No time to lose. Her focus darted around the furnishings. She needed something to hoist her up to the vent.

The table?

She bit her lip and tugged the small round table across the carpet until it lined up under the grate. The wood wobbled beneath her as she climbed on it. She planted her feet and braced herself until the table steadied, praying it would hold her weight.

Pain shot through her fingers when she wedged them under the grate and yanked. Metal cut into her finger pads, but the vent moved a fraction of an inch. She shook her hands free of the pain, gripped the grate and tugged again, her muscles straining.

The grid came free and fell into her hands. The unexpected weight threw her off balance and the table tipped, dumping her to the floor. She cried out, her hip struck the carpet and the corner of the vent scraped across her forehead. Blood welled from the gash above her left brow.

Tears stung her eyes. Damn it. She wiped away the blood, her hands—her whole body—shaking. Don’t think about the blood or the pain. Keep going. Just keep going. She sucked in a breath her gaze skipping across the room one last time and landing on the briefcase.

Did she dare? The fact that Russ had trusted her with the armor was reason enough to nab the darn thing. How could he expect her loyalty when he’d betrayed her? Before she could change her mind, she ran over and snatched the case off the shelf.

She owed it to Audra to make things right.

Margaret propped the table back onto its base, climbed atop it, and on tiptoe raised the case over her head to shove it into the vent. Her biceps quivered, forcing her to take a moment to catch her breath. Then she gripped the edges of the vent and attempted to hoist herself inside.

No go. The table wasn’t high enough, and her already zapped strength couldn’t bear her weight. She needed more of a boost. What could she use?

Chair.

Scrambling down from the table, she grabbed the nearby plastic chair and centered it on top of the table. Oh, Lord, the rickety tower would never hold her.

You won’t know until you try.

She scaled the table, tested the weight of the chair—and took the plunge. The chair trembled beneath her feet but gave her the extra height she needed. She clenched her jaw against the quivering in her legs and braced her arms on opposite sides of the opening. Her heart sped, pumping adrenaline into her body and giving her the boost of energy she needed to hop into the vent. The force of the jump sent the chair skidding off the table and clattering to the floor.

She held herself still until the ringing in her ears subsided and her eyes adjusted to the pitch-black space. Heat seemed to pulsate from the metal under and around her. The humidity zapped at her energy before she’d even moved.