Wicked Pleasure (Bound Hearts #9)

“Play nice, my ass.” She wiggled against him until he released her, but it was already too late, the limo was pulling out of its parking space and rolling along the driveway.

“I could play real nice with your ass, sweetheart. Just give me the chance.” The words were teasing, but his expression, when she glanced at it, was dead serious.

“Oh, I just bet you could.” She moved to the seat opposite him and glared back at him. “Too bad it’s not going to happen.”

He sighed heavily. “I should have awakened you before I left. I apologize.”

Jaci eyed him warily. “I don’t require an apology.”

“Then what do you require, Jaci?” He asked the question so seriously, that for a moment she was taken aback.

“You know, if I have to answer those questions, then we have a serious problem from the get-go. Let’s just drop it, Cam. I’m going to return to the hotel and get some sleep. We can discuss this one later.”

She stared outside the limo, watching the rain and the wind, feeling the fury of the lightning and the clashing force of the thunder inside her.

She had to curl her fingers into fists to keep from touching him, had to force her muscles to keep her in place and keep her from curling into his lap again.

“I’m not taking you back to your hotel,” he finally said.

Jaci stared back at him in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

He frowned back at her. “We’re going to discuss this, Jaci. I’m taking you back to my place, where we can do so in some semblance of peace. Courtney wouldn’t dare barge in on us there. She wouldn’t have a damned problem doing it at the hotel, though.”

Arrogance tightened his features as he stared back at her, thinning his lips and turning his eyes to green fire.

“Have you ever heard of the term ‘kidnapping’?” she asked sweetly.

He leaned forward slowly. “It’s like this. Say ‘no.’ That’s all you have to say—to anything I’m doing at the time—and you’ll go back to your hotel and I won’t bother you. Just one word: ‘No’.”

“And if I do?” she asked him. “Tell me, Cam, just how will you play the wounded male, once I do that?”

“No means no,” he growled. “No repercussions. I won’t bother you again, unless you specifically request something. I’ll leave you alone.”

“So, if I say no to going to your apartment, then things are just over? I accept it all, or I accept nothing? Now why does that little rule just piss me off further? You know what? Screw it, Cam. Fine—” The word was forming on her lips, ready to pass them, when his fingers touched them, halting the word.

“There are rules,” he said softly.

“Rules to what, Cam? To being with you? Sorry, I never was one for all those pesky little details. Shove your rules, too.”

“There are rules to the lifestyle I live, not so much for you as for myself,” he revealed. “My control is shaky right now, sweetheart. I want you, until it’s eating me alive, but I’m trying to do this your way. We’ll talk. We’ll make this work.”

She shook her head slowly. “You think we’re going to make this relationship work without trust, Cam?”

She saw the subtle flinch in his expression.

“What trust?” he finally asked. “Look, you can’t pay attention to everything Chase rattles on about.”

“No, you’re right,” she whispered. “But I can pay attention to the shadows I see in your eyes. Do you think I’m one of what must be a long line of brainless idiots to inhabit your bed? Do you think I’ll ever be satisfied with only half of you?”

“It’s more than anyone else has ever had,” he told her. “And it may be, Jaci, that that’s all I have to give.

15

The rain was still pouring down when the limo pulled into the small lower level garage of the renovated warehouse.

Cam opened the door and stepped out, then turned and extended his hand to her.

“Are you going to run from me again, Jaci?” he asked her.

She should, she knew she should. Instead, she let him grip her fingers and pull her from the car.

“This doesn’t mean I’m agreeing to anything,” she informed him, as the limo pulled away.

“I understand that.” He curled his fingers around hers and led her to the wide staircase that led to the next floor. “You need to rest. We need to talk. You can rest here, and later we can talk.”

As if that was really going to happen, she thought with a silent, disbelieving snort. They were both so damned aroused it was a wonder they didn’t combust. There wasn’t a chance in hell she was going to sleep, with him so close to her. So close, yet so damned far away.

When he told her that half of himself was all he had to give, she hadn’t had an answer for him. What the hell was she supposed to say? That it wasn’t good enough for her? She had promised herself that if she ever had the chance again, she would fight for him. That she wouldn’t run like the scared little girl she had been before. She had promised herself she would try not just her way, but his way as well.

But to realize that the man she had waited for all these years wasn’t willing to give enough to even sleep with her, left her feeling strangely bereft.

As they stepped into the first floor apartment, Jaci gazed around at the open, airy layout of the converted warehouse and felt something clench inside her.

“This is your level?” she asked, looking toward the stairs. “Chase’s is upstairs?”

He stood beside her and stared around the room as well, before turning back to her with a short nod.

Jaci’s throat tightened. It was so deserted. There was nothing but the most minimal furniture. No pictures or personal items, no little knickknacks or souvenirs. It was a place, it wasn’t a home, nor did it have a feeling of life. Dear God, as she stared around she realized that, in some ways, this was what she had always seen inside Cam. A man that refused to let himself belong.

He cleared his throat, standing beside her. “It gets a little dusty sometimes.”

Cam stared around the apartment, wondering what had put that look of abject sorrow on her face. Hell, he had the place cleaned weekly, it wasn’t as though there could be much wrong with it, except the dusting. Well, actually, he couldn’t see any dust, but he knew his cleaning lady was a little lax where the dusting was concerned.

“A little dusty,” she whispered faintly as she sat her briefcase and purse on the wide table beside her and stared around again.

This went way beyond a little dusting, Jaci thought sadly. It was empty. Almost soulless. And Cam wasn’t soulless. She stared up at him as he looked out at the room again, and she saw that edge of complete aloneness that seemed to surround him.

It had been there seven years before, that distance he forced between himself and the world. It was more apparent here, though, in this place he called home. The complete starkness of it was heartbreaking.

“What’s wrong with it?” he suddenly growled. “The place is clean. I’m not exactly a slob.”

“No, you’re not a slob,” she said sadly. “You’re very neat, Cam.”

“Yeah, well, neatness is a virtue,” he continued to grump, as he headed away from her toward the kitchen. “Are you hungry? I can have something ordered in.” He pulled the refrigerator door open and glared inside before jerking a beer free, then slammed it closed again.

“I’m going to guess the only thing your refrigerator holds is beer,” she ventured. “Do you ever actually live here?” She stared around again.

“Every day,” he almost snarled.

“Really? I bet Chase’s level looks totally different.”

“Chase is a slob.” He was glaring at her now. “A damned packrat. He has to have every fricken momento and gift everyone ever gave him. They line the damned walls.”

He slapped the beer on the counter and braced his hands flat on the gray marbled top. “Do you have a problem with where I live, Jaci?”

“None whatsoever.” She shrugged. “But I think I’d prefer a clinic. It would be less sterile.”

Surprise registered on his face as she paced through the large open apartment to a set of tall glass doors that led out to an open balcony. “What the hell does that mean?”

She opened the doors and breathed in the scent of the rain. The thunder and lightning had moved into the distance, but the rain continued to drench the world outside. The clouds were low and heavy, fog rose in misty sheets, giving the grounds an otherworldly appearance and a feeling that they were the only inhabitants in a mystical world.

Jaci usually loved the rain and the fog, but today it seemed to emphasize the complete sterility of Cam’s life. Had he done it deliberately? Or was it really just so much a part of him that he didn’t even realize it?

“The apartment isn’t sterile.” He moved behind her, the heat of his body spreading along her back as his hands bracketed her hips with a firm, almost desperate grip.

“Yes it is,” she said. “And I wonder if it isn’t deliberate.”

She glanced over her shoulder at his closed expression, the stark, icy green eyes, before turning back to the rain. Dampness pelted her face—cool, inviting, drawing her into an almost primal awareness of it. Rain cleansed and eased, and it always had been a source of peace for her.

“How long has it been since you played in the rain?” she asked, smiling as the wind drove a sheet of dampness against them.

She mesmerized him. Seeing her there, a teasing imp in her eyes, yet with that glimmer of sadness still shining. How was he supposed to resist her?

Cam was silent for long moments before he finally answered. “Too long to remember.”

She didn’t look back at his face. She was afraid if she did she would cry. She could hear the loneliness in his tone, sense the male confusion caused by her expression.

She took a deep breath and swallowed tightly before turning her head and staring up at him, seeing all the things she had heard in his voice.

“Let’s get wet and wild,” she whispered. “Come on, Cam, play in the rain with me.”

“You’ll catch your death of cold.” He eyed the rain skeptically.

“Then you can feed me homemade chicken soup.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him out after her.

The rain was drenching, falling down in sheets that soaked them within seconds. It ran over Jaci’s hair and face in rivulets. Spreading her arms wide, she lifted her face and turned in a circle, her eyes closing as the summer shower spilled over her.

When her head lowered and she opened her eyes, she saw Cam, his head lifted, eyes closed. His shirt and slacks were drenched and he looked primal. So male. So intense.

When his eyes opened and he stared back at her, she saw a core of need inside him that she wondered if he even knew he possessed.

“Dance with me,” she whispered. The need to feel his arms around her was driving her crazy.

“There’s no music.” He tried to smile, but she could see the edge of dominance burning inside him. He wanted much more than to dance.

“Then we’ll make our own music.” She moved into his arms, feeling them go around her as he looped her arms around his neck. “Haven’t you ever wanted to make your own music, Cam?”

The rain ran down his hair and face in thick rivulets, highlighting the light growth of beard that shadowed his face.

The ice in his eyes was thawing, being replaced by desire, by a hint of emotion that had her heart racing.

“Are we making music yet?” he asked, his voice rough with arousal now.

Within the soaked slacks, his cock throbbed hard and insistent, as his hands slid the hem of her shirt along her midriff so he could touch her bare back. At the same moment, she became aware of Chase watching from the door, his gaze heavy, arousal evident; but he did nothing to join them. She prayed he wouldn’t.