The Perfect Victim

Randall moved toward her, reaching out. She jumped when his fingers encircled her upper arms. She wanted to stop what was about to happen. A tiny voice in the back of her mind urged her to put a stop to the insanity, to back away and try to forget that he was the only man she'd ever met with the power to make her heart pound.

 

But Addison held her ground, all the while her body vibrated with anticipation. She sighed when he pulled her against him. Her arms went around his neck. A shiver swept the length of her when her breasts brushed against the hard planes of his chest. The heat of his breath whispered against her cheek. The scent of his aftershave titillated her senses. Tilting her head, she searched out his gaze, found it locked on hers with an intensity that made her knees go weak.

 

She murmured his name, wondering in the back of her mind where all of this was going to lead. She wanted to close her eyes, to give herself over to this man who besieged her senses and shattered her resolve.

 

Before she could take a breath, his mouth swooped down and covered hers. One of his hands went to the back of her head and he deepened the kiss. His teeth clicked against hers. She opened to him, tasted male heat and desire, felt it intoxicate her like a drug. She accepted his tongue, offering her own. Arousal trembled through her. She closed her eyes, shaken by its fierce power, and kissed him back with an urgency that came from a place inside her she'd never dared to explore.

 

*

 

 

 

Randall could barely hear the storm outside over the blood pounding in his ears. It pooled in his groin, making him ache with an urgency that verged on insanity. He wanted this woman with an intensity he'd never experienced.

 

He wasn't exactly sure when it had happened, but he definitely wasn't in control of the situation any longer. Perhaps he'd only been fooling himself to think he'd ever been.

 

He marveled at the way her body fit so perfectly against his. He was aware of her arms around his neck, her breasts against his chest, her ragged breaths in his ear. He wanted her closer, wanted her beneath him. He wanted to get inside her. The need drove into him like the sharply honed tip of a sword. And he knew he would sell his soul for the opportunity to lose himself inside that pretty body of hers.

 

But the timing couldn't have been worse. She was his responsibility now whether he wanted it or not. Until he figured out who was trying to kill her, he couldn't risk letting his guard down. Neither of them could afford to become personally involved at a time when they were both at their most vulnerable. That she had no idea just how screwed up his life was didn't help matters. He hadn't told her about his post-traumatic stress disorder. He hadn't told her he would be leaving for D.C. in a few weeks. Or that he was pretty sure he was an alcoholic.

 

The impossibility of the situation struck him hard. He told himself it didn't matter. They had tonight. A few hours. He wanted sex, not a vow of love. But something inside him didn't want to settle for that with Addison. With some surprise, he realized he respected her too much to use her.

 

Blowing out a sigh of frustration, Randall broke the kiss and held her at arm's length while his vision cleared. She stared at him, her dilated pupils and the color in her cheeks clearly revealing that the kiss had shaken her as thoroughly as it had him.

 

For a split second, he was tempted to scoop her into his arms and take her right there on the floor, his conscience be damned. Fleetingly, he imagined what she might feel like beneath him. Soft. Warm. He wondered how her nipples would feel against his palms. He wondered if the kiss had aroused her, if she was wet between her legs.

 

His body wanted sex, hungered for it. But his intellectual side knew he owed her more than just the release of an orgasm. He wasn't sure why he felt that way. His conscience had never bothered him before when it came to women. But he supposed he'd never met a woman like Addison Fox.

 

"We need to talk." His hands were shaking, and he couldn't seem to catch his breath.

 

"That's funny coming from you at a moment like this."

 

He tried to smile, but the need hammering through him wouldn't allow it. Unsettled, he raised his hands and cupped her face. "You don't know me, Addison. I'm not the man you think I am."

 

"You're not going to make some kind of a bizarre confession, are you, Talbot?"

 

"I'm trying to talk you out of making a mistake."

 

Her eyes grew cautious. "Define mistake."

 

"Sleeping with me." The words made him grimace. "I'll only end up hurting you."

 

"I'm a grown woman. I know what I'm doing."

 

"You're vulnerable."

 

"Maybe I'm not the only one who's vulnerable," she said gently.

 

He wanted to laugh it off, but her words had hit close to home. He didn't want to want her. But, God help him, he wasn't a good enough man to walk away.

 

Sliding his hands through her hair, he marveled at the silky feel of it against his palms. He wanted to kiss her. The need was like a wild animal trapped inside him, clawing him, tearing him up inside. But the cold reality of his situation refused to leave him alone.

 

Goddammit, he didn't want to be in this position.

 

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