Superb And Sexy

Chapter 9

Maddie decided not to answer on the grounds that after she killed Brody dead as a doornail, she didn’t want to have to admit in a court of law that the murder had been premeditated.

He was still holding her so that she couldn’t get free, his big, warm body to hers. He was good. How the hell had he gotten so good?

And why?

At work, he and Shayne and Noah joked around a lot, wrestling occasionally, tackling each other over a candy bar or a CD or something equally stupidly male, but on the whole, they were a fairly laid-back, easygoing group.

And yet he’d fought her like a consummate pro. Even more startling, he’d subdued her without hurting her. “You’re crazy.”

“Probably.”

“Seriously.” She was still struggling to get the upper hand and still failing miserably. “Certifiable.”

“No arguments here, babe.”

She opened her mouth to blast him again, but he merely shifted. His thigh, the one holding hers open, glided against the core of her, and just like that, a switch flicked on in her brain, and she went from violent to something just as devastating.

No. More devastating.

Lust.

The sensations bombarded her body, wave after wave of them-the feel of his heated, strong arms on the outside of hers, the way he held her hands in a grip that was presumptuous, bordering on dominating and aggressive, and yet…and yet she couldn’t hold on to her anger to go with those things.

Just lust.

And then there was the humdinger-either he had something in his pocket, or he’d enjoyed that little tussle.

A lot.

Oh, God.

He was hard. And big. And the knowledge created even more embarrassing reactions…

Not good.

In fact, this was the opposite of good. Her mind raced, and it came to her, the one and only way to get Brody to back off. It was cruel and low, even for her, but difficult times called for difficult measures.

“Ow,” she murmured very softly, wincing, grimacing. “You’re hurting me.”

Before her heart hit its next beat, anguish crossed his face, and his body lifted off hers so fast her head spun.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I-”

“Just give me a minute.” She let out a long, slow breath. “I need to just lie here a minute.”

His eyes were tortured. “I’m sorry, so sorry. You were moving like you were fine, and-”

“I’m okay,” she said weakly. “Really. I’ll be fine in a minute-” But she broke off with a gasp when he scooped her up in his arms. “What are you doing?”

“Putting you to bed.” His jaw was tight, the muscles jumping with tension as he headed to the stairs. “Where you are going to be a good little girl and stay.”

“Put me down.”

Instead, he strode up the stairs like she weighed less than a gnat, which she definitely did not. “Seriously, I am not going to bed with you.”

“You know, you’re the second person today to turn me down for sex when I didn’t even offer it.”

Odd, that quick stab of hot emotion that she refused to acknowledge might be jealousy. “Who was the first?”

Only his eyes cut to hers. “Why?”

“Because if it was that bimbo you were dating before I got shot…Bambi? Barbie? You could do better.”

A corner of his mouth quirked. “It was Shayne, actually.”

“Oh.”

“Bambi?” he repeated, definitely sounding amused. “Barbie?”

“Whatever.” It wasn’t easy to maintain her dignity, but she managed. “You can see whoever you want.”

“Yeah. I can. Funny how I don’t want to.”

Though he’d spoken lightly enough, she swallowed hard because nothing in his eyes said light. No, those eyes were all flinty steel, and not cool steel either, but smoking hot.

“Where did you learn to fight like that?” she asked.

“Where did you?”

She closed her mouth.

So did he.

Fine. A crossroads. The story of their lives.

He strode down the hallway with her in his arms as if she weighed nothing. After the surgery, she’d definitely lost some weight. She wasn’t fully back on her game, and yeah, she might never be, but she could handle herself. “This is really going over and above the call of duty.”

“Which you would think would bring me some gratitude,” he said.

“I don’t do gratitude. You must really have hated those temps.”

“Actually, they were all quite polite. Not one of them argued with me on a daily basis.”

“And yet you scared them all away.”

He didn’t say anything to that, and she didn’t know what she’d expected. A confession that he’d done so because he’d missed her? She might as well wait for an invitation to fly to the moon. “I can walk.”

He shot her a quick glare, then stopped on the landing, still not winded.

She really hated him.

“I assume your bedroom is up here. That’s where you were watching me from when I first got here, right? Probably having a helluva laugh over sending your sister to the door instead of coming yourself.”

“I wasn’t laughing.”

He slanted her another look, also unreadable. “Where’s your shoulder brace?”

“My physical therapist said I could go without it now, unless I’m hurting.”

“You are hurting.”

“Yes, because some idiot decided to wrestle with me.”

“Who’s the idiot with the knife?”

Before she could object to his calling her the idiot, he went on in a scathing tone. “A knife. You held a fucking knife on me like I was the fucking bad guy.”

“I’m out of the airport for a month, and your language goes all to hell.”

“Six weeks.”

“What?”

“You’ve been out of the airport for six weeks, and you’re still in pain.” At that, he stopped talking. Just stopped and put his forehead to hers. He didn’t move a muscle, but she could feel the tension in his big, tough body. They stood just like that, utterly still, for that one beat in time united in their frustration.

“You’re killing me,” he whispered. “You know that?”

His misery stopped her cold and drained her temper. Somehow, her hand came up and touched his jaw. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“You should have been safe there.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Brody.”

He shouldered open her bedroom door and then stopped short in the doorway at the sight of Cowgirl Central, complete with leather and pink lace everywhere. “Your bed.”

Oh, God. She’d forgotten. “It’s not mine.”

“It’s pink,” he said, sounding as stunned as he looked, which pissed her off. “Lace.”

“I didn’t pick it.”

He stared at the huge, high four-poster bed barely visible through the heaping piles of pillows and soft, luxurious bedding done up in, indeed, pink lace. “It’s…”

“Girly. I know. It’s my arm and shoulder, Brody. Not my legs.”

As if mesmerized, he moved to the bed. The headboard was an old brown barn door, lacquered to a high shine. Above it, a lasso hung on the wall in the shape of a halo. “Wow.”

She wriggled, and he slowly, carefully set her down in the center of the froufrou setup.

She had to remind herself that she was playing weak and hurt in order to get him out of her hair. But damn, the hardest thing she’d ever done was allow herself to sag back as if she didn’t have the energy to even get beneath the covers.

“You’re surrounded by mountains of pink.” He looked confused. “And miles of lace. You.”

She shouldn’t have been insulted, but she was. “It’s ridiculous, I realize that.”

“No, it’s-”

“I didn’t pick it out, okay?” If he smiled, she was going to kill him.

“Okay.” His mouth twitched, but he didn’t smile. Smart man. “Your sister’s staying here with you?”

“Sort of.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell us you had a sister?”

Us. As in him, Noah, and Shayne. She wondered if the word choice was a subtle way of distancing himself, of being just someone from work.

Distance worked for her. “Why should I have? She doesn’t affect my ability to do my job.”

“Maddie.”

The low, soft chiding tone to his voice cut right through her righteousness and unexpectedly left her feeling stripped bare. Closing her eyes, she lay back, suddenly not having to fake being weak.

And stupid.

Let’s not forget very, very stupid. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to someone…”

“Caring?”

“Yes.”

“Well, at least you know I do care. I’ll take that as a good sign. Now if I could just get you to stop kicking at me.”

God, she knew it. “I’m sorry for that, too. And I’m sorry I said we weren’t friends.”

The light that came into his eyes would have warmed her soul if not for the knowledge that soon, she was leaving. For good. “I’m tired,” she whispered, throat tight. “I’m going to rest.” Lifting her arm, she settled it over her eyes to keep her from being tempted to keep looking at him, needing her fill.

But then she felt his hands on her foot, and then came the rasp of a zipper before he tugged her boot off.

And her other.

Which left her bare feet in his big, work-roughened palms. He took in her toenails, painted purple today, which didn’t mean anything except she’d been bored the other night. She had a silver ring on her second toe, which didn’t mean anything either. Nothing around her meant much, especially lately, and honestly, she was getting a little worried about that.

She needed something to mean something. And she wished it could be him. God, she wished that she could stop pushing and just let him in, really in.

Then his thumb skimmed over her instep, and she felt the touch in all the places she shouldn’t. She did her best not to melt under his touch, once again asking him the burning question of the day. “Where did you learn to fight?”

His eyes met hers, stubborn to the depths. “Where did you?”

“Do you always answer a question with another question?”

He sighed. “I grew up in Compton. Skinny little white boys didn’t fare so well unless they knew how to protect themselves.”

Staring up into his inscrutable face, she tried to see any of that vulnerability that must have been a part of him then. “You don’t talk about your family.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because.” When she just looked at him, he gave in. “My parents were barely able to score their next fix, much less worry about their street brat.”

“I see.” She knew it’d been bad, she just didn’t know how bad. She’d been lusting after the tall, enigmatic, gorgeous pilot for what, nearly a year now, and yet in all that time, she’d never seen him as anything less than a sure, steady, sharp, sophisticated man, a man who could, by turns, make her laugh, want to tear her hair out in both lust and temper, and in general, drive her mad.

She’d never pictured him doing as she had, overcoming mountains of shit to be where he was, and that was her selfish shame. “So you learned how to fight out of necessity.”

“Survival of the fittest.”

And he was fit. Incredibly so. Mouthwateringly so. But to find out it wasn’t just lucky genetics or a love of a good gym seemed to give him a whole new dimension for her to chew on.

“Now you,” he said.

“Classes,” she admitted. No need to hide that. “I learned to fight in classes. Lots and lots of classes.”

“Why?”

“A girl needs to be able to protect herself.”

He took that in, his gaze never leaving hers. “A girl shouldn’t have to. Especially a young girl. How old were you?”

“When I what?”

“Needed to know how to defend yourself.”

Okay, too close. She crossed her arms, or tried to, belatedly remembering it was a bad idea. When she winced this time, it was for real, and his mouth went grim. “Lift up,” he told her, and when she did, he pulled the blanket from beneath her to cover her up.

Which had been her plan. Let him put her to bed.

Except he didn’t look like he was planning on going anywhere. She needed to get him to leave for long enough that she and Leena could get out without him following. The only idea that came to her seemed fairly evil, even for herself, but she had no choice. “I can’t sleep in my clothes.”

He went still, then lifted only his gaze. “No?”

“I need help undressing.”

A dizzying mix of reluctant arousal and discomfort crossed his face. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Why don’t you go to the post office for me, and I’ll get Leena to do this.”

At his expression, she knew she’d done it. Finally. He was about to run like a little girl and choose the post office.