Lover Undercover

chapter Sixteen


She blinked. Name her prize? With desire swirling in her stomach at the sight of him, taut and toned and shirtless, thinking strategically posed a challenge. Moving to face him, she couldn’t help but notice the way his rippling abs disappeared into the low, loose waistband of his Levi’s. Drawn to the play of muscles, she let her palm slide over the chiseled terrain. He groaned a low warning, but she didn’t heed it. Instead, she moved her hand along the front of his jeans and cupped him through the denim.

“This is my prize.”

The breath burst from his lungs like a small explosion. His balance faltered, but then he tightened his obliques and steadied while her mouth watered at the display.

“That’s cheating.”

She met his half-amused, half-tortured gaze, and gently squeezed his erection, then hummed with pleasure as he swelled to new dimensions, as if straining to reach her. Her nipples tightened in response, and she felt an answering throb between her legs. “Do you feel cheated?”

His eyes glazed. “Christ, no.”

The next thing she knew, two strong arms banded around her and she found herself pressed into a big, warm, naked chest. “I forfeit,” he growled and then slammed his mouth down on hers.

God, how did he do this to her, with nothing but a kiss? When his tongue dove into her mouth to mate with hers, she gripped his shoulders in a useless attempt to steady her world while her body melted into his.

Her head spun as he swept her up and carried her to the bedroom. When he deposited her on the bed, grabbed the hem of her tank top, and broke the kiss in preparation for yanking it over her head, she decided it was time to remind him who lost their little bet. Rising to her knees, she blocked his hands. “Not so fast, mister, I believe you forfeited our challenge, which means I won. Therefore, I’m entitled to claim my prize.” Victory smile firmly in place, she patted the spot beside her on the bed.

His eyes narrowed, but he sat.

She slid off the bed and insinuated herself between his knees. Looking up at him, she slipped her fingers under the waistband of his jeans and pulled the first button open.

“Just so we’re clear, you cheated,” he said gruffly.

She popped the next button and saw the head of his erection peeking from the band of his white knit boxers. “Don’t be a sore loser.” Leaning in, she kissed the eager tip.

He groaned. The low sound grew ragged and raw as she yanked his fly open, dragged the band of his shorts down, and took his jutting penis all the way into her mouth.

“Ah, Jesus, go easy on me,” he begged. His head dipped forward, and his eyes drifted closed.

Never, she thought smugly, letting her lips slide over him, using her tongue to trace the underside of his shaft. The maneuver provoked a rough curse, and his hand tangled in her hair, fingers circling restlessly against her scalp. Taking it as a sign, she swirled her tongue over him—top, shaft, base—everywhere she could reach. She figured she must have done something right because he actually whimpered. Fueled by the desire to see just how far she could go, she closed her lips around him snugly and slid her mouth slowly back up his length.

Low groans punctuated his shallow breaths. In a move she found incredibly erotic, he traced the seal of her lips with the tip of his index finger.

“I love being inside you like this,” he confessed in a harsh whisper. “It feels good, so f*cking good…”

Within a few seconds his whispers turned to an inarticulate mix of prayers and curses. Within a few more, she was flat on her back on the bed, sweats dangling from one ankle while he rolled on another condom. Their eyes met for a single suspended beat of pure, hot anticipation. Then he drove into her with the devastating intensity of a lightning strike.

Contrary to what she’d heard, lightning could strike twice in the same place, three times, innumerable times. He proved this with every earth-shattering lunge of his body into hers. Soon her cries competed with his.

Though she couldn’t hear anything over the roar of her rushing pulse, she knew she was babbling, begging. He must have heard her, because he reared back, shoved her legs up until her knees practically brushed her earlobes, and drove into her again with a long, hard thrust. This time lightning didn’t simply strike, it electrified every atom in her body and sent her spinning, twirling, falling. Emotions too intense to name surged through her. She twined herself around him—her only anchor in this spiraling universe of pleasure—and held on for dear life.

…

Trevor pried his eyes open and watched Kylie raise her hips toward the ceiling and tug her sweats up. A minute ago, he’d come so hard he still couldn’t feel his extremities, yet somehow she’d gathered the energy to squirm out from under his dead weight and start pulling on clothes.

Luckily, there was nothing wrong with his hearing, so he had a fairly good idea what fueled her sudden need to escape. In the throes of her orgasm, she’d definitely called out, “I love you. I love you. Oh, God, Trevor. I love you.” Whether she realized what she’d said remained to be seen, but the emotional epiphany alone clearly tripped her panic switch.

He rolled to his side and grabbed some tissue from the box on the nightstand, did some housekeeping below deck, and pitched the tissue-wrapped condom into the trash. Then he turned to watch Kylie. “What’s your hurry?”

She shrugged, still not looking at him, and repaired her ponytail. “I don’t want to wear out my welcome. I know I showed up unannounced and hijacked your evening. I should leave now and get out of your way.”

“Stay.” He didn’t dare add another word, or next thing he knew, he’d be begging. This already sounded too much like a repeat of last night. Asking her to stay with him and having her toss the invitation back in his face was not a habit he intended to develop.

She shook her head, sending the ponytail back to square one, and gave a frustrated little sound. “I’ve got to go. I have things to accomplish. I can’t just…languish here indefinitely.”

Several replies sprang to mind, all of which would likely kick off a conversation that hastened a final break. You really want to push this?

Apparently he did. Sleeping with her whenever she showed up on his doorstep, silently hoping for more than she might ever willingly offer, struck him as a pathetic way to spend time with the woman he loved. With a hand to her shoulder, he turned her until she faced him.

“Is that what you’re afraid would happen if you let yourself acknowledge what you feel for me? You’d lose sight of the things you want to accomplish?”

“Look, Trevor,” she began slowly, carefully, like someone stepping into a minefield. “We’re attracted to each other. We enjoy each other physically. End of story. Why can’t we leave it at that?” She threw the question out in a calm, rational tone, but he saw the terror in her eyes.

“A minute ago you screamed you loved me at damn near the top of your lungs. Call me sensitive, but I find that pretty hard to brush aside.”

That spooked her. She couldn’t have jumped off the bed faster if he’d touched her with a live wire. “I’m not ignoring my emotions.” She swatted that contention away with an impatient hand. “But I’m also not a slave to them. They’re transitory…unreliable. I’m not my mother, for God’s sake.” Now she started to pace. “She gets hopelessly lost in every fleeting passion, and you know what? Those roads always lead her back to exactly where she started—absolutely nowhere.”

“Why does the road always have to lead nowhere?” He kept his voice quiet, though his emotions were anything but. “Maybe sometimes it leads to happiness, and fulfillment?”

She shook her head and continued to pace. “It never does. Not for my mom. Not for anyone I know. Believe me, I’ve watched.”

“That’s one thing I noticed about you right from the start. You’re observant. But Kylie, you can’t always rely on your limited, firsthand observations to define the realm of possibilities. How do you explain my parents, happily married for thirty-two years come October?”

“They’re the exception that proves the rule.”

God, she was stubborn. For some crazy reason, it had him fighting a smile.

“What rule?”

“Excuse me?”

“If people like my folks are the exception, what’s the rule? I’d like to know.”

“Fine. I’ll call it Stacy’s rule. Enjoy the moment, have some mind-blowing sex, and leave the candlelight and roses for fairy tales.”

“That’s Stacy’s rule?”

“In a nutshell.”

“Seems to me even Stacy’s not playing by her own rule anymore, considering she prepared a special dinner for Ian tonight—involving candlelight and roses, I believe you said. Tell me, did she seem happy?”

“Well, sure, she—”

“Why didn’t you talk some sense into her?”

Flashing blue eyes narrowed. “I don’t begrudge Stacy happiness.”

“Of course not,” he quickly agreed, “which is why I figure you’d want to remind her about the rule, and warn her she’s walking a road that always leads nowhere. Especially for those two, right? I mean, she’s a stripper.” He shook his head. “What’s Ian thinking?”

“Maybe he’s thinking she’s fun, talented, and interesting,” she challenged, unwittingly rising to his bait by leaping to the defense of her twin.

“I’m sure she’s all those things. But Ian’s a cop. Probably too straight-arrow for a woman like Stacy.”

“That’s what makes him good for her,” she insisted, sounding so uncharacteristically argumentative he had to force back another smile. She was proving his point for him. “They balance each other out. You’re the trained observer. I can’t believe you don’t see something so obvious.”

“But, Kylie, if they’re good for each other, right for each other, then that would make them”—he paused for effect—“an exception to the rule?”

“Yes…no!” She scrubbed a hand across her face and then looked up at him. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I hope yes.”

Reaching out, he grabbed her hand and tugged her closer. When she didn’t resist, he pulled her down on the bed beside him. “Let me get this straight. Stacy and Ian could be an exception to this ironclad rule, but not you and me? Because I’m thinking you and I might qualify for one of these exceptions you’ve mentioned. Maybe instead of getting in the way of your dreams, I’d be the guy who’s helping you, and looking out for you—the guy who’s got your back.”

The wide blue eyes staring up at him swirled with confusion and sorrow. Finally, she looked down at their joined hands. “Trevor, you don’t really know me…”

“Ah, Christ, we’re back to that again?” Now he sprang up from the bed. With no better outlet for his impatience, he paced to the window and stared at the treetops silhouetted against the night sky. “I knew plenty about you the minute I set eyes on you. Even when you’re surrounded by people, you hold yourself apart. You don’t find lying easy, and you’re not good at it. You’re instinctively friendly, but stingier with trust. How’m I doing so far?”

He turned to look at her, but she didn’t answer, so he kept going. “You worry about everyone—Stacy, the other dancers at Deuces, a couple of dead customers, even me—but find it difficult to believe someone could genuinely care about you. You’re a tough, fragile, brave, cowardly woman. If you’re looking for a way to tell me you don’t want to take this thing between us any further, try another excuse, because ‘You don’t really know me’ won’t cut it. There may be a few people on this planet who know more about your past than me, but I’ll wager there’s nobody who knows you better than I do—body and soul.”

“Can’t you just be satisfied with the body?” she pleaded, her voice little more than a whisper.

Heart heavy, he dropped back down beside her on the bed and took her hand. Yes, his dick insisted. Hell, yes. A huge part of his mind wanted to cast the same vote, the part thinking maybe she just needed some more time. But his heart, or his balls, or a combination of both, wouldn’t let him compromise on something so critical.

“No chance. I’m falling in love with you, Kylie.”

He watched her expression shift from confused to flat-out scared. “You’re not, Trevor. Don’t say—”

“And you’re falling in love with me, too.” Normally he wouldn’t toss what a woman said in the heat of passion back at her, but he wasn’t feeling particularly fair at the moment. “Deny it to yourself if you have to, but I know the truth. So, no, I won’t let you use me—use us—for sex and pretend that’s all there is. If sex is all you’re willing to ante up, then I fold.”

Those deep blue eyes looked so lost and wounded, he fought the urge to pull her into his arms and tell her she could have him on whatever terms she wanted.

“Are you saying you don’t want to see me anymore?”

He stood and pulled her to her feet. If she dissolved into tears on his bed, he’d cave for sure and would never be able to face himself in the mirror again. “No. I’m saying I want to spend time with you somewhere besides there.” He gestured to the bed. “I want to send you roses. I want to see the way your skin glows in candlelight. I want to call you in the middle of the day, just to talk. I want all of that, and a hell of a lot more. But, if you don’t, if that’s too disruptive to your precious plans, then…” Drawing a deep breath while parts of his anatomy vehemently protested the ultimatum, he gathered his strength and finished. “No. Your body, amazing as it is, isn’t enough for me.”

She lowered her head, but not before he saw her chin tremble. “Kylie…” Cupping his hand around her neck, he nudged his thumb along her jaw, lifting her face to his. Her chin had firmed, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“I should go.”

Not the answer he’d been hoping for. Forcing a smile, he said, “Yeah, I had a feeling—”

Her lips cut him off—fast, hard, a little bit rough, and then gone. Only the lingering scent of tropical paradise hinted she’d been there at all.