A Perfect Storm
Page 68
“You’re keeping something from me.” Resentment chased away her lethargy and had her gathering steam.
“No.” To forestall the fireworks, Spencer said, “I’m just a little amazed that it’s all over.”
“Did they have to kill anyone?”
He frowned over her bloodthirsty tendencies. “Dare said he’ll fill us in on the details when we get to his place tomorrow.” He hesitated, but he needed her cooperation right now. “For the time being, he wants you to stay with me.”
“Mmm.” Rather than argue, she asked, “And how do you feel about that?”
“It’s not a problem for me.” Hell, the only problem would be if she tried to leave him now.
At his answer, Arizona gave him such a wanton look that his guts cramped. He felt tortured, bordering on a loss of control, and she wanted to…flirt?
Trying not to stare at her mouth, he said, “What’s up with you?”
With a secret smile, she lifted one bare shoulder. “I did a side-by-side analysis, that’s all.”
He had no idea what to make of that. “I don’t follow.”
She released her seat belt to turn toward him. After taking her gaze over him, his chest, his shoulders—his lap—she looked into his eyes and said huskily, “You, Spencer Lark, stand out.”
“Among those scumbags?” He turned toward her, too. He had one arm along the back of the seat, the other draped over the steering wheel. “Jesus, I hope so.”
“Definitely when compared to them, but from all other men, as well.”
Her admiration put another crack in his already weakening resolve. Spencer tried scoffing at her. “You’re drunk.”
“Yeah, a little.” Easing closer still, she said, “But it’s not like I’m totally shit-faced or anything.”
Did she curse on purpose? “You’re not thinking straight.”
“Actually, I was thinking about it a lot even before the whiskey. Even before I walked into the bar.”
Good God. Feeling cornered by her intent and his own heated interest, he asked, “About what?”
“You. How you look. The things you do, and why you do them.” She drew a breath and her eyes grew heavy. “How you make me feel.”
“I panic you,” Spencer reminded her. Okay, so during that last kiss he’d given her, she hadn’t exactly been fighting him. And before going in the bar, she’d kissed him. A barely there kiss, but still… “I have to coerce you into every single—”
“No, you don’t.” She shook her head. “Not anymore.”
Spencer considered her assurances. She might think that now, but she wouldn’t if he put it to the test. If he kissed her as he wanted to.
The way he craved.
“Okay, then.” He’d give her a more thorough taste that would help to remind them both of how she really felt and of everything she still had to overcome. “Maybe you ought to pay up?”
She gave a quizzical look.
“You cursed, Arizona.” Trusting that she’d shy away, he pushed her. “A whole lot of curses, actually.”
“Hmm. Well, damn.” She breathed a little harder, a little faster. “Guess I forgot myself.”
Could she find a more inventive way to make him suffer? “Arizona…”
“But what the hell, right?” Her twitching smile proved a taunt; she deliberately threw out the curses. “These are extenuating circumstances.”
Anticipation rode him, amped up his determination and his lust. “You’re playing with fire.”
“I know. But not cursing has been a real…” long, dark lashes lifted, and her gaze locked on his “…bitch.”
That did it. She asked for it.
Hell, she begged for it.
And why not? It’d probably take no more than one real kiss before she’d be backing up and rethinking her brazenness.
She didn’t really want him.
She didn’t really want any of this.
Set on his course, Spencer said, “Time for me to collect, then, so sit still.”
But she didn’t. As he leaned toward her, she licked her lips and suddenly launched herself at him.
Taken off guard, he didn’t resist as her mouth landed on his, not brief, but open, hot. He tasted the sharp bite of the whiskey first and then the sweetness of her tongue as she took his mouth without reserve.
Oh, God.
He tried to pull back.
Sort of.
He got his hands on her upper arms…but didn’t quite push her away as he meant to.
She made a sound of hunger and deepened the kiss.
Heat flared, and his dick twitched to attention.
So did his conscience.
The easiest explanation for her quick turnaround was that on top of the adrenaline high, she’d had way too many drinks.
But damn, her mouth felt good and tasted good, too. Before he even realized it, he had his hand tangled in her long hair, his mouth slanting over hers, their tongues dueling.
He pulled her closer as he leaned back so that she sprawled over his chest. Instead of recoiling, Arizona moaned.
Shit.
He freed his mouth, then had to hold her away as she tried to crawl up onto his lap. “Honey…wait.”
“No.”
“We have to stop.”
“Can’t.”
Honest need sounded in her tone, and Spencer’s control fragmented. A kiss hadn’t dampened her enthusiasm at all. Hell, it had spurred her on.
“No.” To forestall the fireworks, Spencer said, “I’m just a little amazed that it’s all over.”
“Did they have to kill anyone?”
He frowned over her bloodthirsty tendencies. “Dare said he’ll fill us in on the details when we get to his place tomorrow.” He hesitated, but he needed her cooperation right now. “For the time being, he wants you to stay with me.”
“Mmm.” Rather than argue, she asked, “And how do you feel about that?”
“It’s not a problem for me.” Hell, the only problem would be if she tried to leave him now.
At his answer, Arizona gave him such a wanton look that his guts cramped. He felt tortured, bordering on a loss of control, and she wanted to…flirt?
Trying not to stare at her mouth, he said, “What’s up with you?”
With a secret smile, she lifted one bare shoulder. “I did a side-by-side analysis, that’s all.”
He had no idea what to make of that. “I don’t follow.”
She released her seat belt to turn toward him. After taking her gaze over him, his chest, his shoulders—his lap—she looked into his eyes and said huskily, “You, Spencer Lark, stand out.”
“Among those scumbags?” He turned toward her, too. He had one arm along the back of the seat, the other draped over the steering wheel. “Jesus, I hope so.”
“Definitely when compared to them, but from all other men, as well.”
Her admiration put another crack in his already weakening resolve. Spencer tried scoffing at her. “You’re drunk.”
“Yeah, a little.” Easing closer still, she said, “But it’s not like I’m totally shit-faced or anything.”
Did she curse on purpose? “You’re not thinking straight.”
“Actually, I was thinking about it a lot even before the whiskey. Even before I walked into the bar.”
Good God. Feeling cornered by her intent and his own heated interest, he asked, “About what?”
“You. How you look. The things you do, and why you do them.” She drew a breath and her eyes grew heavy. “How you make me feel.”
“I panic you,” Spencer reminded her. Okay, so during that last kiss he’d given her, she hadn’t exactly been fighting him. And before going in the bar, she’d kissed him. A barely there kiss, but still… “I have to coerce you into every single—”
“No, you don’t.” She shook her head. “Not anymore.”
Spencer considered her assurances. She might think that now, but she wouldn’t if he put it to the test. If he kissed her as he wanted to.
The way he craved.
“Okay, then.” He’d give her a more thorough taste that would help to remind them both of how she really felt and of everything she still had to overcome. “Maybe you ought to pay up?”
She gave a quizzical look.
“You cursed, Arizona.” Trusting that she’d shy away, he pushed her. “A whole lot of curses, actually.”
“Hmm. Well, damn.” She breathed a little harder, a little faster. “Guess I forgot myself.”
Could she find a more inventive way to make him suffer? “Arizona…”
“But what the hell, right?” Her twitching smile proved a taunt; she deliberately threw out the curses. “These are extenuating circumstances.”
Anticipation rode him, amped up his determination and his lust. “You’re playing with fire.”
“I know. But not cursing has been a real…” long, dark lashes lifted, and her gaze locked on his “…bitch.”
That did it. She asked for it.
Hell, she begged for it.
And why not? It’d probably take no more than one real kiss before she’d be backing up and rethinking her brazenness.
She didn’t really want him.
She didn’t really want any of this.
Set on his course, Spencer said, “Time for me to collect, then, so sit still.”
But she didn’t. As he leaned toward her, she licked her lips and suddenly launched herself at him.
Taken off guard, he didn’t resist as her mouth landed on his, not brief, but open, hot. He tasted the sharp bite of the whiskey first and then the sweetness of her tongue as she took his mouth without reserve.
Oh, God.
He tried to pull back.
Sort of.
He got his hands on her upper arms…but didn’t quite push her away as he meant to.
She made a sound of hunger and deepened the kiss.
Heat flared, and his dick twitched to attention.
So did his conscience.
The easiest explanation for her quick turnaround was that on top of the adrenaline high, she’d had way too many drinks.
But damn, her mouth felt good and tasted good, too. Before he even realized it, he had his hand tangled in her long hair, his mouth slanting over hers, their tongues dueling.
He pulled her closer as he leaned back so that she sprawled over his chest. Instead of recoiling, Arizona moaned.
Shit.
He freed his mouth, then had to hold her away as she tried to crawl up onto his lap. “Honey…wait.”
“No.”
“We have to stop.”
“Can’t.”
Honest need sounded in her tone, and Spencer’s control fragmented. A kiss hadn’t dampened her enthusiasm at all. Hell, it had spurred her on.
