Page 36 of Resisting His Target
Tonight she would focus her attention within these four walls, take Ian in her hands and hold him against her body, feel the solid weight of him between her legs, where she hadn’t felt a man in far too long. She’d once been a deeply sensual being, the chance to be with him rousing that part of her from a long and dreamless sleep.
He’d been quiet after the paternity ruse, brooding in the truck, and she didn’t blame him for his discomfort. But the magnitude of that request had brought him closer, even as he railed against it, firmly pushing him across the line that had kept them apart.
She turned off the water and stepped out, drying herself off with a towel. His hands would soon be on her skin. She cupped one breast, imagining it was he who touched her. She sighed, dropping her hand before wiping the condensation off the mirror and staring at her reflection.
He called, “Your things are right outside the door,” making her jump. A burst of adrenaline had her heart beating quickly.
“Thank you.” She was wasting time. She got her clothes and dressed quickly before entering the bedroom. He sat on the edge of the far bed with his forearms on his knees, the lamp on the nightstand throwing the unmarred half of his face into deep shadow. He was looking at her so intently she stopped moving. God, he was sexy. Danger and a handsome beauty mixed across the striking features of his face.
His eyes fell and he looked to the nightstand. Two motel keys sat on its surface.
Two keys. Not one.
The prowess that had filled her in the shower drained into the floor, rejection curling in her stomach like too much wine.
“Jackie…” he said, his voice gravelly and deep. “We can’t do this.”
He was leaving her. He wouldn’t stay. After all her fantasies in the shower, the certainty he’d be with her in the night. “Why?” She sounded small and childish, and she hated that she asked the question.
He stood, turning his back to her and picking up one of the keys. “I left the wine you wanted and some food. Don’t drink too much or you’ll be dehydrated for the trek tomorrow.”
She told herself not to beg him, desperation and pride warring for the upper hand, but she had lost so much in the last few days—her best friend, her sense of safety and peace—and now she was losing her night with Ian as well. “You’re leaving right now?” Maybe if he would stay for dinner, the meal would give her time to change his mind, but he didn’t turn around.
“We both need to get some sleep.”
“It’s eight o’clock.”
He headed for the door. “I’ll come for you at three. Make sure you’re ready.”
He was going to walk out without even looking her in the eye. “Look at me, Ian.” She crossed to him.
He raised his head and met her stare, but his eyes were shuttered. He was deliberately cutting himself off from her, disallowing any attempt to sway him. The need to make him acknowledge her outweighed the cost to her pride. “You want to be with me, too.”
“It’s the wrong decision.”
“Admit it, you coward.” She pushed him in the chest with the heel of her hand. “You want me, too.”
Emotion flared in his eyes, no longer cold but hot, hot enough to burn. There it was, the fire that ran just beneath the surface. She lifted her chin. “I can see it in the way you look at me.”
“Stop it,” he snapped.
“Or what? You’ll leave me alone when you desperately want to stay? You’ll walk out of my room and pretend you don’t give a shit when what you really want is to be in my bed just as badly as I want you there?”
He shook his head slowly and took a step back. She followed him. “Fuck you, Ian.” She pushed him again. “Fuck you for leaving me to wallow in my own crap. Fuck you for being so goddamn righteous you’ve got to deny me the one thing I’ve wanted for myself in all these years.”
“And what is that, huh?” he demanded. “What is it you think I can give you? I’m not the guy who’s going to walk into your life and make it okay. I’m not going to take care of you or even stick around.”
“I never asked you to. I don’t care about any of that.”
He leaned down, his face just inches from hers. “Then what? What is it you think I have to give?”
“Sex, all right? I wanted you to have sex with me.” She leaned forward. “I wanted you to touch me. To make me feel like a woman. Sexy. To be with me, goddamn it. But I guess that’s just too much to ask—”
He kissed her, his mouth assaulting hers with a fierceness that spoke of insatiable desire. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him to her, desperate that he not get away. The key dropped to the floor as he opened his hands, long fingers splaying across her back with a caress that lit her up like a light.
She had to get closer to him, had to feel the warmth of his skin against hers, and she grabbed a fistful of his shirt, yanking the garment over his head. He hadn’t showered as she had, the spicy scent of his body acutely male and intoxicating as a drug to a hard-core addict. Her fingers slid greedily over his muscled back, the planes of his shoulders, and the curve of his spine. She pressed kisses from his bare chest up to the hollow at his collarbone.
Would he be a good lover, stoking the hot coals of need he’d ignited with his mouth on hers, his hands on her body? Or would he overpower her, making her take what he gave until she willingly shattered into shards, like glass?
