Someone To Believe In (15 page)

“Upstairs.” Grabbing her hand, he started to
drag her. They only got three steps up, before she clamped her arms
around him from behind. He fell to his knees; she was kissing his
spine. Her hands went for the buckle on his belt. She dragged the
whole thing off, threw it down and its buckle clanked on the steps;
still from behind managed to yank at his zipper. Her fingers dove
inside, closed around him and the world dimmed. “Goddamn it.”

Somehow, he managed to still her actions and
turn around so he was sitting a few steps above her; she promptly
dragged off his slacks, shoes, socks. Kneeling on a lower step, she
buried her face in his lap. Without conscious consent, his hands
grasped her head; he tunneled his fingers through her hair, kept
her where she was. After moments of ecstasy, he stopped her.

“Nooo...”

“Shh...” Shakily he stood, drew her up and
pushed her skirt down over her hips. “Fucking son of a bitch...A
garter belt? Oh, God. That’s it.” He dragged her up into his
arms.

They climbed the rest of the stairs, though
she didn’t make it easy. She fumbled for her keys and nearly
dropped them twice before she unlocked the door.

Once inside, he stumbled to the couch.
Dropped her down. Again, sanity resurfaced. “I don’t have a condom.
Tell me, God, you’ve got some.”

“Top shelf of the medicine cabinet in the
bathroom.”

He darted away, found the bathroom, and
practically pulled the cabinet door off its hinges. He was back in
seconds.

Bailey couldn’t think, could only react. When
Clay returned holding the box of condoms, she caught a glimpse of
dark, tight jockeys, of him—full, aroused, and pulsing. He
struggled with the condom packet so she took advantage by yanking
down his briefs and taking him in her hands, kissing him, fondling
his back side. When he finished his task, she felt herself
pushed—not gently—to the couch. He placed a knee on the cushion,
bent her legs up high. He said only, “Look at me,” as he plunged
into her.

She was filled like no one had ever filled
her before. He was holding on to her knees, but was still.

“Don’t stop.”

“Shh. I need a minute or I’ll...”

She grasped his hips and yanked him toward
her.

He tensed, swore, and thrust violently.

Only twice before she was eclipsed by
explosions of colors and sounds and feelings so intense she almost
lost consciousness.

The next thing Bailey became aware of was
Clay, impossibly heavy on her, his breath coming in heaving gulps.
He was still inside her. Her hand went to his neck, played with the
soft, silky hair she found there. She kissed his shoulder. His ear.
Still, he didn’t move. She inhaled him. He smelled male and
musky.

“Clay?” she said finally. “Are you all
right?”

He mumbled into her neck, “I can’t believe
I’m still breathing.”

She chuckled, felt an answering rumble in his
chest. Finally he managed to pull back. Bracing his arms on the
pillows next to her head, he stared down at her.

Never in her life had a man looked at her
like that. She’d left a light on and in its dim shadow, his
expression was so profound, it humbled her. He brushed his hand
down her cheek.

“Wow!” he said.

“Wow, yourself.”

“You pack a powerful punch there, lady.”

“So do you.”

“It was—”

“Incredible.”

“I’m— “

“Destroyed.”

“It meant—”

“A lot, Clay.” She stared at him, fearing
she’d just done something irrevocable. “Too much.”

“Shhh, none of that,” was all he said.

CLAY STROKED A hand down her naked back; a
lush tingling radiated to her nerve endings as she buried her face
in her pillow. Leaning over he kissed her spine. “Your skin is like
cream.”

“Hmm. Your hands feel so good on me.

He massaged the small of her back. She
groaned. He ran fingertips over her bottom, the tops of her thighs.
She shivered. Slowly he raised her foot and kneaded the instep,
hard. Bailey sighed. “That’s decadent.”

Again, he bent over and kissed her neck.
“You’ve got marks, sweetheart, from my mouth. My hands.”

Lifting her head, she glanced over her
shoulder. “Now there’s a surprise.”

“Was I too rough?”

“I have no idea, I was out of my mind.”

He laughed, sounding like a well-satisfied
male. “So was I. I’ve got a bruise or two.”

“I’m sorry.”

“God, I’m not.”

He sifted his fingers through her hair,
massaged her scalp. She let his ministrations continue for a while
but eventually, something had to be said.

“Clay, we aren’t going to do this again.”

“Of course we are.” She felt him rise and
swell deliciously against her thigh. “And damn soon, I’d
guess.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

His hands stilled. “What did you mean?”

“After tonight. This was just, you know, a
thing.”

He began petting her again, making her
shiver. “Do I have a say in all this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Whether we see each other again, like this,
after tonight.”

She rolled over. He was angled on his side,
his right hand bracing his head. God, he looked good, his eyes
gleaming like amber gems, his face ruddy. He was sexy and masculine
as hell. But he didn’t belong to her. “Surely you aren’t thinking
there’s any future for us.”

His face darkened. He grew serious. “I don’t
know what I’m thinking, Bailey. Truthfully I’m still reeling from
having the top of my head blown off.”

“I blew your head off? Cool.”

He kissed her nose. Brushed back her hair.
“That you did, darlin’.”

Her heart thumped in her chest, but she had
to keep this in perspective. “It was wonderful for me, too, Clay. I
meant what I said earlier. It’s never been this good.”

His grin was wolfish. “You can’t know
how good that makes me feel. I
am
forty-five.”

“It’s true, but—”

His fingers came to her mouth.
“No
buts
now.”

He kissed her, deeply, then worked his way
down her body. When he reached the juncture of her thighs, she
closed her eyes and sighed and let him take her with his mouth.

Later, after she returned the favor, he held
her next to his heart. In the semi-dark, silent bedroom, its steady
beat lulled her. His lips in her hair, he whispered, “Now I have
something to say.”

“All right.”

“You can’t possibly think, after that, I’m
going to let you walk out of my life.”

She kissed his breast bone. “Clay, we need to
be realistic, practical.”

“Screw practicality.”

“You won’t say that if anybody in D.C. finds
out about this.” She added meaningfully, “Or if our respective
families do. My brothers would tar and feather you, shorn me, and
have me sent to a convent.”

“Isn’t that a bit of an exaggeration?”

She stiffened; every time she thought of that
year in Andersonville, her body reacted. “They blame you for my
going to prison.”

His hand stopped midway down her back. “Don’t
you, honey?”

She ignored the endearment, and the warmth it
caused to spread through her. “No. I broke the law. I wish you
hadn’t been such a good lawyer, but the justice system sent me to
Andersonville, not you.”

“Are you always this generous with people
who’ve hurt you?”

“Speaking of being hurt...” She had to face
him to tell him this. Coming up on her elbows, she braced her hands
on his chest. “Clay, this was wonderful. Too wonderful. I don’t
think we should let it go further and risk either of us getting
hurt.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t you know?”

“I know, but I want to hear you say it.”

“All right. Because we have a connection. We
click. Not just in bed.”

“It’s why I don’t intend to let you go just
yet.”

“Any relationship between us is doomed.”

“Why?”

“Because we differ so much in philosophy
about our work that we could never coexist in a relationship.”

“You’d choose your work over me?”

A blast of icy realization hit her in the
face. “Is that what this is all about? A way to get me to stop my
work with gangs?”

She found herself flipped over on her
back so fast she lost her breath. He manacled her wrists.
“Don’t
ever
say anything
remotely like that to me again. How could you even think
it?”

“I...”

His eyes were blazing fire. “Do you have any
idea how insulting that is?”

“I’m sorry. Of course you wouldn’t do that.”
She hoped not, anyway, but he was so mad, she had to recant.

He fell back into the pillows. “Damn it,
Bailey, all I want is you in my life somehow.”

“For better or for worse, I’m in your life
professionally.”

He came up on his elbow again and reached
out, cupped her breast. “I want you like this.”

Don’t do it
,
she told herself.
Don’t
. But
as usual, she didn’t listen to her sensible side. “All right, we
can have a sexual relationship. That’s all, though.”

“You think that would work?”

“It’s the only thing that has a shot in hell
of working.”

He seemed thoughtful.

“Without anybody knowing.”

His brow furrowed. “It sounds seedy.
Sordid.”

“Take it or leave it, Senator. It’s all I’m
offering.” He waited an incredibly long time.

And then he took it. And her, again.

“BAI-LEY.” THE VOICE penetrated her
sleep-drugged mind. She willed it away and cuddled up next to the
man who slept beside her.

From outside her bedroom door, she heard,
louder, “B.? It’s me, Aidan. You’d better come out here.”

Slowly she lifted her lids. “Huh?”

Clay lay beside her. Still asleep, he gripped
her tightly when she tried to move away. He smelled so male, felt
so warm, she cuddled into him.

“Bailey, now! Or you’ll be sorry.”

She managed to ease away from Clay, took a
moment to relish the sight of him—big, muscled, unshaven, and
completely relaxed in her bed—grabbed a robe from the floor and
headed to the living room, wondering how to keep Aidan from knowing
who was inside her bedroom. He wouldn’t care that she was with a
man, but Clayton Wainwright was another matter. Right now, she
regretted giving him a key to the doors.

“Hold your horses, I...” She closed the
bedroom door tight and turned around. Oh, God...

Patrick leaned against the wall, looking
murderous.

Dylan was tossing one of Rory’s baseballs up
and down.

Aidan was trying to hide a grin.

“Where’s Liam?” she asked, stupidly.

“Taking your son and his kids for breakfast
so they wouldn’t see what we saw when Aidan opened the front door
downstairs.”

Her mind was muddled from sleep and sex. For
a minute she didn’t get it. Finally Aidan held up a pink bra. When
she remembered hers and Clay’s clothes were spread from the foyer,
up the steps and into the living room, she blushed.

Dylan started for the bedroom door. Bailey
blocked him. “Don’t even think about it.”

“We wanna know who it is.”

“Why?”

“Somebody’s doin’ my sister, and I don’t even
meet him?” Dylan’s eyes were as hard as shards of glass. “Far as I
know, you haven’t brought a guy around.”

“No, I haven’t.” She scanned the room. “Maybe
this is why.”

“Think of your son, girl.” Patrick had the
uncanny ability to sound just like her father. “And you’re supposed
to have Liam’s kids all day.”

“I forgot that you were bringing them back,
all right?” She’d forgotten her name, but they didn’t need to know
that.

Unable to forgo a shot, Aidan chuckled. “It
was that good, huh, Sis?”

“This is not funny.” Patrick again.

“I agree.” Bailey tried to sound haughty.
“You shouldn’t be interfering like this.”

Dylan stepped forward. “I can take her,
Paddy, so you can get to the bedroom.”

Bailey knew how to be tough. “Do that and you
will no longer be a part of my life.”

It was a threat they wouldn’t risk. Since
she’d gone to prison, they treated her opinions, her ultimatums,
differently. As if they knew she’d do what she said.

Patrick and Dylan shrank back. She felt sorry
for them. She crossed to Pat, encircled her arms around his neck,
and kissed him. “I love you, Paddy. All of you. But I’m thirty-six.
I have a life.”

“So we saw, spread out from your door down
the stairs.” At least his tone was dry, not angry.

“I’m sorry I was careless when you were going
to bring Rory and the boys back. I probably scandalized the
neighbors, too.”

Patrick hugged her. She repeated the gesture
with Dylan.

To Aidan, she shot a look
saying,
Help me out
here
.

“Come on, guys, we’ll meet Bailey at the
diner where we sent Liam and the kids. The place a block over where
we usually go B.,” he said, telling her they wouldn’t be able to
spot whoever was leaving her apartment.

As her two oldest brothers trundled
out, Aidan walked over and handed her something. “Lucky
I
found this, kiddo, and not
them.”

It was a butter-soft leather wallet.

“Did you look inside?” she asked.

“Didn’t have to. “ He nodded to the
engraved initials.
C.W.
He
kissed her nose. “See you in a bit. I’d hurry it along, or they’ll
come back.”

Squeezing Aidan’s arm, she followed him down
the stairs, scooped up all the clothes, and as she was on the way
up, she heard Dylan say, “Musts been some night. Didn’t know our
little sister had it in her.”