Okay, Striker, you would look for any reason, any poor-ass excuse to keep her in arm’s reach. He blamed it on the kiss he couldn’t forget about. At some point he had to get a firm grip on the situation between him and Margo. Never before had he gotten involved with a client because things could get messy. He knew that, yet he couldn’t get a handle on things when it came to her.
“Time for you to call it a night, don’t you think? It’s already another day,” he said gently, when she made no attempt to leave the room.
He couldn’t ignore the wary look on her face. “And then what, Striker? There were twelve of us on that jury and three alternates. So far three of us are dead. I can’t help but wonder who will be next.”
“It won’t be you. I thought you believed that.”
“I do, but I don’t want it to be anyone.”
He hadn’t realized until that moment just how much she tended to think about others first, more than herself. For him that shed a little more light on the situation involving her uncle’s girlfriend and why the thought of staying at the Connelly estate, even when her life could be in danger, was something she refused to do.
Striker had a feeling it wasn’t the fact that she couldn’t handle this Liz character but instead Margo’s belief that if she did move back and drama ensued, it wouldn’t be Margo whom Frazier would ask to leave. Although Striker didn’t too much care for Frazier Connelly, he had a feeling he wouldn’t put any woman, girlfriend, live-in lover or otherwise before his niece. Chances were Margo knew that as well and was actually doing Liz a favor...although Striker doubted Frazier’s girlfriend saw it that way.
“Excuse me. You’re standing in the doorway, Striker. Blocking it.”
“Oh.” So he was. He was thinking seriously about suggesting that she try squeezing by him. The thought of her doing such a thing had every cell in his body vibrating in desire. Deciding that wouldn’t be a good idea, especially since he was pretty damn hot for her already, he slowly moved away from the doorway. “Sorry.”
“No problem.”
Except there was a problem, and it was one that had nothing to do with the threat of a hit man. It had everything to do with the two of them staying under the same roof together after sharing one hell of a scorching kiss. He knew her taste. He knew how she felt in his arms with their bodies pressed together. How his hard erection felt snuggled close to her middle. She’d almost made it past him when, for some reason, he reached out and snagged her hand. He wasn’t sure why he’d done it. Was it because he knew that, once she got to her bedroom and closed the door, he wouldn’t see her again until morning? Or was it because he needed her touch...desperately? Or could the reason be that once she was behind that closed bedroom door, he would get an earful of the sounds she’d make—stripping off her clothes, showering, putting on her bed clothes and sliding between the sheets. The hot and steamy visuals flowing through his mind would keep him hard all night.
Just as he’d expected whenever they touched, a surge of desire ripped through him, and from her expression, it had torn through her as well. Striker was well aware of all the dynamics that made up such an intense attraction—that could make all sorts of wicked, naughty and sinful thoughts go through a person’s head. But more important, he understood how such magnetism could exist between him and Margo. It had to do with opposites attracting. And they were as opposite as opposites could get.
“Striker?”
He looked into her eyes and wished he hadn’t. “Yes?”
Margo watched Striker’s brows furrow as if he was trying to decide whether to let go of her hand or not. Little did he know she didn’t have a problem with him holding her hand. Her problem was him standing there like he wasn’t sure what his next move should be. Honestly, it really shouldn’t be that hard to figure things out. If he was in doubt and needed a little coaxing, then she had no problem doing so. Because—bottom line—she was tired of avoiding him. Tired of yearning for something that was right here and accessible. Tired of wondering if another kiss could possibly be as good as the last one.
“Are you going to stand there all night or are you going to give in to what we both want right now?” she asked him bluntly, and this time she was the one tugging on his hand to bring him closer to her.
He didn’t hesitate in coming. Margo wondered if she would regret any of this tomorrow. Possibly. And chances were she would try to figure out why she was giving in to her attraction to Striker after she’d fought so hard not to do that very thing. But she was a goner with him standing there, looking sexier than any man had a right to, while holding her hand and staring at her in a way that had the nipples of her breasts hardening against her top. There was no way he couldn’t see the effect his touch was having on her. Just like she could clearly see what hers was having on him. A huge erection was something most men couldn’t hide and he was no exception.
“This isn’t right, you know,” he said, releasing her hand and taking a step closer to wrap his arms around her waist.
She could feel the hardness of him pressed against the juncture of her legs. “What isn’t?” she asked, trying to keep her voice at a normal pitch instead of a breathless whisper. “The fact that we like copping kisses off each other whenever the mood hits?”
He was studying her mouth in a way that had blood running fast and furious through her veins. “Copping kisses isn’t why I’m here,” he said gruffly. “My job is to—”
“I know what your job is, Striker. Trust me. You’ve made that pretty clear. Just chalk the kisses up to us sharing fringe benefits.”
The last thing she wanted was for him to get all honorable when she was feeling pretty indecent right now. He wanted to continue to fight her, block this desire, this connection being forged between them. She understood, since she’d tried doing that same thing. But now she was willing to put fighting on the back burner. They had agreed on a truce, hadn’t they? Besides, as far as she was concerned, they had some unfinished business to take care of.
He snorted. “Yeah, at the risk of Roland kicking my ass if I step over the line.”
She tilted her head back and met his gaze. “And who’s going to tell your boss anything? You certainly don’t seem like the kiss-and-tell kind. Besides, why would this Roland care when it’s just another job for his firm? The way I see it, unless I complain about your services, there shouldn’t be any ass-kicking going on.”
She intended to say more, but he began lowering his head, and before she could catch her next breath, his mouth took hers hostage.
*
STRIKER HUNGRILY FED off Margo’s mouth like the greedy bastard that he was. It was a kiss meant to rob her of her senses, drain strength from her body and show her he was doing a lot more than just copping a kiss. He was branding her. He’d deliberately started off this way with a deep tonguing that had her moaning. After a while he would slow things down and tease her mouth, nibble from corner to corner and lick it all over. Then he would go for hard and deep all over again.
She was wrong to think this was just another gig for Roland’s firm. Margo didn’t know him being here was personal. Probably as personal as it could get for Roland. But at the moment he wanted to eradicate Roland from his mind and enjoy this kiss. This woman. Her taste.