Page 22 of Ace of Spades
Well, she had walked right into that one. She grabbed his finger, bending it back, and as he tried to pull away, she wiggled out from under him—not that she wanted to, since she rather liked his body pressed against hers—and before he could react, she straddled his back, hooking her arm around his neck.
She put her finger against his head. “Bang. Another bad guy bites the dust.”
And just like that, he flipped her over his head. They fought and wrestled and did their best to kill each other for a good twenty minutes. When he had her pinned again, his body pressed hard against hers, she stared into his eyes, watching them darken.
“It’s a draw,” she gasped, sucking air back into her lungs. He was as turned on as she was, and although this was far from the first time that had happened, it was the first time he didn’t push away as soon as the sparks started flying. His groin was pressed against hers, and she could feel him growing hard.
“Nate,” she whispered.
His eyes glittered, anger dancing in them. “Damn you,” he said, then covered her mouth with his. As with the first time he’d kissed her, he wasn’t gentle. But she didn’t want tender. She wanted him out of control, and he was. As he explored her mouth, his tongue dominating hers, he rocked his hips against her. Her sex wept with pleasure. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him to her.
When his hand covered her breast, over her T-shirt, she wanted to rip the shirt off so he could touch her skin. Needing to touch him, she trailed her fingers down his back, over his spine until she reached the top of his workout shorts. She tugged his T-shirt free, then slipped her hands under it. He was hot, a furnace, and she was going up in flames.
Suddenly, he stole his heat away. Taylor stared up at him as he stood over her, panting as hard as she was. Nate was her best friend, and she knew how his mind worked. If she said one word about that kiss or tried to convince him to take what she willingly offered, he would dig in, more determined than ever to draw a line in the sand that he wouldn’t cross.
She scissored her legs around his, dropping him to the mat, then scrambled onto her feet. “I win.” As she walked away, she said, “I need a shower. Meet you back at the office.” With her back to him, she allowed herself a smile. She was breaking through his defenses, brick by brick by brick.
Once back at work, she grabbed everything related to their case—which she’d started thinking of as the Everglades Girls—and took the files to the conference room. She and Josh wouldn’t go out until later, when the creatures of the night started venturing out.
As she spread everything across the tabletop, she wondered what the press would call the murders when they connected the dots, realizingthere was a serial killer walking the streets. It would be something sensational, like the Dead Brides or the Killer Groom.
Nate never returned, which didn’t surprise her. He was off somewhere doing his moody thing, but he’d get over it. He always did. She’d had two boyfriends in her life, one who’d turned out to be a jerk, convincing her that he loved her, then disappearing after he’d taken her virginity. It had taught her a valuable lesson. She’d been almost eighteen then, and had learned never to trust a sweet talker.
Her second boyfriend had been a great guy. They’d met her second year in college and had been together for two years before the relationship began to feel more like they were just going through the motions. Their parting was amicable, and they still kept in touch with an annual Christmas email, updating each other with what was going on in their lives. He was married now, with two kids, and she couldn’t be happier for him.
The one thing she’d promised herself was that she would never allow herself to be helpless like her mother, pushed to the point where she felt she had no other choice but to sell her body. She’d studied hard, gotten a partial scholarship, and had worked a part-time job to get her degree in criminal justice. Her goal in life was to put away bad guys like the one who’d killed her mother. Someday, if luck was on her side, she’d find her mother’s murderer. Until then, substitutes would do.
So she’d loved a douchebag, and she’d loved a really nice guy in her twenty-eight years, but neither one had ever felt like her soul mate. Nate, though? He was a man she respected more than any other, and she could love him real hard if only he’d let her.
All she had to do was find out why he was resisting what was obviously between them.
