Blue Twilight (22 page)

She would use it against him; he knew she would. But he yanked the covers back, anyway, and when he saw all the scratches, he set the liniment down and picked up the antibiotic ointment instead.

“How badly were you hurt?” she asked.

He used his forefingers to dab ointment on the gouges and cuts, scratches and scrapes. “Broke a femur and three ribs, and dislocated a shoulder.”

He stole a look at her eyes. They were wide and fixed on his face. “It's okay, there was no permanent damage. I'm fine now.”

“You're lucky it didn't kill you.”

“Don't think I don't know it.” He shrugged. “Better skip the other stuff on your legs. They're bruised, but that stuff would burn in the cuts and scrapes. Now…” He moved up on the bed, caught her chin in his hand and bent closer to look at her face. He turned her head left, then right. “There are some nasty scratches on your neck.”

“Are there?”

He nodded, realizing a little too late how close he was to her face and how intently her eyes were probing his. He cleared his throat and put a little more of the ointment on his fingers, then ran them gently over the smooth skin of her neck.

He was fine until she tipped her head back and closed her eyes, her breath easing out of her lungs in a shuddering sigh.

He didn't realize his hand had gone still until those green eyes opened again and locked onto his.

Then her head lifted from the pillows and she pressed her mouth to his. Briefly, lightly, she kissed him. Then she kissed him again, and again. Taunting, teasing little pecks that only left him wanting more, until finally, unable to resist her, he slid his arms around and underneath her, one at the small of her back, one between her shoulder blades. He drew her to him, and he kissed her fully, deeply. Her arms twined around his neck. Her body arched up against him, and God, everything in him burned for her.

When he finally took a breath and lifted his head away, she whispered, “Don't you dare start giving me a list of reasons why we shouldn't, Lou. You do, and I swear I'll shoot you with your own gun.”

He stared down at her, wanting her so badly his entire body strained to get closer.

“It doesn't have to be anything more than this. Just this,” she whispered. “Just us, here and now. No future. No past. No demands or expectations or repercussions, I swear.”

He knew she meant it. He also knew she was dead wrong.

She straightened and trailed hot kisses across his neck, along his shoulder. And then she said, “For God's sake, Lou, make love to me. Please.”

He thought of all the reasons why he shouldn't. But he was way beyond that kind of self-denial. Had been, he figured, since seeing her naked in that bath.

He was almost trembling—both with wanting her so badly for so long and with certainty that he was making the most horrendous mistake of his life—when he cupped her cheek with one hand and drew her mouth back to his again.

He felt her smiling against his mouth. And then her hands were on his chest, fingers wending their way between his body and hers to deftly open the buttons of his shirt. She pushed it open and then her hands were on him, and he was suddenly living in a state of physical bliss.

I
t was happening. She could hardly believe it was happening. His mouth on hers, his hands pushing the T-shirt up. He lay in the bed beside her now, and he stopped kissing her to look at her as he lifted the shirt over her head and tossed it aside. He looked at her the way a child looks at Santa Claus. Awe and wonder in his eyes. His hand moved, the back of it sliding over her neck and collarbones, then lower to her breast, where each knuckle bumped over her and made her close her eyes in pleasure and arch her back to his touch.

He went still, so she opened her eyes again. “Lou?”

He was still staring at her body. But then he looked away. “I can't do this.”

“What?”

He rolled away from her, sitting up, feet to the floor on his side of the bed. “I…I've got that muscle rub on my hands.”

“That's not a reason…. Lou?”

He was getting up, walking into the bathroom, though he left the door open. His shirt hung open as he
leaned against the counter, turned on the faucets and began washing his hands.

She got up, too, knowing damn good and well he was trying to run away from her yet again. She wasn't standing for it. Not this time, dammit.

She strode into the bathroom and stood behind him at the sink. “Don't do this to me, Lou. Not this time…not after…all of that.”

He lowered his head, not even meeting her eyes in the mirror.

“I'm doing this for your own good.”

“Why don't you let me worry about what's good for me? You stick to worrying about what's good for you.
I'd
be good for you, Lou. So good…”

“Stop.”

Swallowing her pride, she dropped the robe from her shoulders. Just let it fall to the floor at her feet. Then she gripped his arm and tugged him until he turned around. His eyes widened, then fixed on her, before moving up and down her body over and over.

“Jesus, Maxie, what are you doing?”

“I'm doing this for your own good, Lou.” She reached for his hands. They were still wet, dripping. She drew them to her breasts and pressed them to her. Then she let go, so she could slide her own hands over him, underneath the shirt that hung open. “God, I love your chest,” she said as she let her palms trace every ripple. “And your abs…” Her hands moved lower.

His hands were squeezing her breasts now. Kneading, gently and rhythmically. She wasn't certain he was
aware he was moving them. She slid hers to the front of his jeans and opened the button and zipper. He didn't pull free or run away. She felt him tremble under her touch as she drew the zipper down and slid her hand inside.

He was hard, warm to her touch. She let her fingertips dance over the tip of him and heard his breath come stuttering out. She took his measure by wrapping her hand around him, then sliding it down slowly, squeezing as she did.

He made a sound, a deep groan that told her she was on the right track.

Smiling, nearly drunk with the power she felt surging through her—the knowledge that he couldn't say no to her, even if he wanted to—she dropped to her knees, shoving his jeans down as she went, and before he had even an instant to object, she had him in her mouth.

He swore. A long, growling stream of cuss words, and he even backed up a little, but his ass only hit the sink counter. She took him deeper, then let her lips slide all the way to the tip, where she used her tongue before sucking harder and taking him deep again.

She looked upward as she mouthed him. Saw him tip his head back and close his eyes even as his hands buried themselves in her hair. He was shaking harder now. Trying, she thought, to resist the urge to hold her head captive and plow into her throat. Instead, he slid his hands to her shoulders and firmly pushed her away.

Fine. She got to her feet, wrapped her arms around his neck and took his mouth, pulling him away from the sink as she did. His hands moved to her backside, cup
ping her cheeks, squeezing them, pulling her hard against him. And he pushed her mouth wide open with his tongue, then dug in, licking deep. She thought maybe she'd pushed him past the place where he was capable of turning away, so she used her hold on his neck to support her as she lifted her legs and wrapped her thighs around him.

His hands tightened harder. She wriggled until she felt his hardness nudging at her opening, and then she pushed herself lower, sheathing him, taking him inside. They sank a little as his knees gave, but he caught himself, straightened and moved, carrying her, on him. He pushed her up against a wall and drove up into her, once, twice, again, each time stabbing more deeply. Then he spun her away from the wall and stumbled toward the bed.

Her back hit the mattress, his weight pressing her into it, his hips using the momentum to drive still more deeply. She tipped her hips high, straining to take all he wanted to give her, though he was already stretching her to her limits. She arched. He caught her hips, halting her. “Easy, babe. Easy. I'll hurt you.”

She replied by grasping his ass in her hands and tugging, even sinking her nails in a little. “More,” she whispered against his ear. “I want all of you.” Then she bit his earlobe.

With a deep shudder, he gave her what she asked for. His hands slid to her knees, and he pushed. She unlinked her ankles from behind his back and let him open her wider. He pushed her knees apart and upward, and he met her eyes.

“Give it to me,” she dared him.

He did, driving into her so deeply that she felt the breath leave her lungs in a gust. And then again and again. Harder, each time filling her, stretching her. She whispered his name, moaned and panted as he pushed her higher. He let go of her knees and slid his hands around her, one cupping her buttocks, fingers sliding between its cheeks, exploring and invading her darkest secrets. The other hand slid between them to find her breast, her nipple. He caught it between thumb and forefinger, began tugging and twisting.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she whispered as he pushed the flames higher. She lost all sense of what he was doing or how he was doing it. She felt pleasure, delicious naughty stabs of pain mingling with it as he pinched and pulled and drove. And then she was exploding, and she knew he was, too, when he drove into her so hard she felt him in her womb, pulsing into her, holding her to receive him.

She wrapped her arms and legs around him, holding him to her, tightly, desperately, as unbearable pleasure twisted her body into knots. She held on, and so did he; his arms and body were her anchor as her entire being shattered like a dropped mirror and rained down in a deluge of glittering, shining bits that pierced her body and sank deep, and then melted into quicksilver in the warmth that suddenly lived inside her, warmth Lou had put there. Then the parts of herself gathered together again, smooth and shining and better than before. Her body uncoiled. Her arms went from clutching him to simply holding him.

Lou lifted his head, so he could stare down at her face. She thought he was going to kiss her, smiled just a little in expectation. But he didn't. He rolled off her, then gathered her in his arms and maneuvered them both into a more comfortable position in the bed. Then he drew the covers over them both, turned off the light and lay there, holding her, spooning behind her, his arms around her.

“Lou?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay with this?”

She felt his breath wafting over her hair. “Go to sleep, hon. We don't need to pick it apart tonight.”

“We don't need to pick it apart at all. It was wonderful, Lou. It was a wonderful, amazing, mind-blowing moment. It doesn't have to be anything more.”

He snuggled her close to him.

“Would it be better if I went back to my own room?” she asked.

“Don't even think about it.”

“But—”

“Maxie, hon, just shut up and go to sleep, okay? Don't worry about what I'm thinking.
I
don't even know what I'm thinking right now. Ask me again in the morning.” To soften the words, he pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

“Okay,” she said. But she snuggled closer to him. “It's okay, you know. Nothing has to change, Lou.”

“Everything's changed, Max.”

She closed her eyes tightly, dreading what he would say next. “Was I…I mean, did you…?”

“You were incredible.” His arms tightened around her. “You
are
incredible.”

And I love you,
she added mentally, imagining those words on his lips.
Say it, Lou. Just say it.

But he didn't. He snuggled her as if he loved her, held her as if she were precious to him, but he didn't say what she was so longing to hear.

“Just get some sleep, hon. We'll figure this out in the morning.”

“Then I hope the morning never comes,” she whispered. But to her surprise, she did just what he'd suggested. She fell asleep. Deeply, soundly asleep in his strong arms.

When she woke, she was alone in the bed.

She rolled over onto her back, blinking the sleep from her eyes, then winced because even that small movement caused pain. A deep, dull achiness pervaded her body. Her limbs and back hurt.

What hurt more was the uncertainty in her mind. She knew Lou far too well to think he was going to take this easily. He would be a basket case by now. The man thought too much. Well, he could deny it all he wanted, but she knew damn well he'd been as into her last night as she had been into him, and he couldn't take back what had happened between them.

Hell, that would drive him crazier than anything else.

She sat up in the bed and looked around. The bathroom door was open. She smelled fresh soap, shampoo scents lingering on the air, and got to her feet to pad across the floor, stark naked, to take a look. The mirror
was still coated with steam and moisture. She ran a palm across it. A damp towel was slung crookedly on the rack.

He'd gotten up early. Must have been damn quiet about it, too. Showered while she slept and then slipped away. Hell, he was probably halfway back to White Plains by now.

Pressing her lips tight, she corrected herself. He wouldn't leave her—not while she was in danger, at least. He would stick around until the case was solved. No longer, though. She had probably sealed her fate by pushing him into something he wasn't ready for last night. No way would he stay with her now. No way.

Tipping her head to one side and rubbing the back of her neck, she walked to the front of the motel room to take a look out the window. Her car wasn't in the parking lot. But Lou would be back. She had no doubt about that. Besides, it wasn't even six-thirty yet. Might as well shower and be ready for the blow he would no doubt deliver when he came back.

She stepped into the tub, yanked the curtain closed but left the door open, and turned the faucets. When the water was flowing just right, she flipped the control lever, switching the flow to the showerhead. Then she let the hot spray massage and soothe her achy muscles.

“Hello? Maxie, you in there?” Stormy's voice came just as Max was wrist deep in shampoo.

“Yep. You bring breakfast?”

“No, Lou's getting it. I saw him on his way out. Thought I'd come get the dirt. So what happened last night?”

Max finished rinsing the suds from her hair, peeked around the curtain and said, “We did it.”

“You…” Stormy blinked, then grinned ear to ear. “Son of a gun! About time you nailed that hide to your wall, girl. Good for you.”

“Not really.” Max ducked under the spray again to finish up.

“You mean it wasn't…?”

“Oh, hell no. The sex part was great. Earth-shatteringly great. It's the repercussions I'm thinking aren't going to be so hot.”

“Oh. There are gonna be repercussions?”

Max turned off the water, snatched a towel from the nearby stack and wrapped it around her as she stepped out of the shower. “Oh, yeah. Any minute now he'll be back here. I imagine he's been awake all night figuring out how to explain to me what a huge mistake this was and why it can never happen again.”

“If he thought it was a mistake, he wouldn't have done it.”

Max was bent over, briskly rubbing her head with a towel. But she looked up long enough to say, “I didn't exactly give him much choice.”

Stormy's brows went up. “What did you do, take him at gunpoint?”

“Not exactly.” She slung the towel from her head onto the counter, finger-combed her hair and then strode back into the bedroom. Stormy sat on a comfy chair with her feet propped on the foot of the unmade bed. “I might as well have, though,” Max said. She was reach
ing for Lou's drawer but decided not to keep wearing all his clean T-shirts. “I have to go to my room for some clothes.”

“I'll go for you, if you'll do something for me first,” Stormy said.

“Name it.” She turned from the dresser, but when she saw Stormy's eyes she knew she had more problems to worry about than just Lou's reaction to their night of passion. Stormy was staring at Max's legs, and when Max looked down she saw the bruises that had formed overnight. Her arms didn't look much better, and she knew there were scratch marks on her neck and face.

“Tell me what went on last night, Max. I know damn good and well Lou didn't put those marks there. What the hell happened to you?”

Max rolled her eyes and tried for a casual attitude. “I thought I saw someone lurking around outside. Went wandering out there like a moron. All alone. Wound up walking right over a drop and rolling all the way to the bottom.” She held out her arms, looking from one to the other, shaking her head as if at her own stupidity. “It looks a lot worse than it is.”

“If it didn't, you'd be dead.”

“It was stupid. Fortunately, Lou saw me slipping away and came out after me. Got me back here and doctored me up.”

“Uh-huh.”

“That's how we ended up—”

“Max, knock it off.”