Extreme Danger (McClouds & Friends #5)(116)

He shook his head, and sank down onto the bed again, resting his aching head in his hands. “I don’t know,” he said dully. “I just don’t f*cking know. I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Always.”

“The other shoe? What are you talking about?”

“My next mistake. The ultimate f*ckup. When they finally get a clue. It always happens, sooner or later. When they’re disappointed.”

He forced himself to look up minutes later, tormented by the silence. And he wished he hadn’t.

Becca’s eyes swam with tears. She wiped them away, and flung her head back, sniffing aggressively. “You think I’m going to be disappointed, too. Don’t you?”

She was demanding the truth and he didn’t dare respond.

Christ, he had to get real. Every woman he’d ever been remotely involved with had been ultimately disappointed by him. There was no reason to think that this time would be any different. How could it be?

But neither did he want to cut it short by saying as much. He would take what he could get for as long as he could get it.

A yes would be a pathetic, doglike whine for reassurance. A no was a lie that would jinx his sorry ass for sure. There was no good answer for her.

“Just forget I said it,” he muttered. “Please.”

“No,” she said. She wiped her eyes with her fingers, sniffing hard. “I will not forget it. Don’t ask me to. It doesn’t work that way.”

“Let’s just drop it, OK? I can’t deal with—”

“I am alive because of you, Nick!” Her voice came through the gurgle of tears with startling force. “You saved me! You were doing a brave, heroic thing in the first place, and you put it aside when I showed up and did another brave, heroic thing, for me! How’s that for results, buddy? You’re the reason I’m not dead!”

“Yet,” he cut in harshly. “The vote’s not in on that.”

“Well, my vote is already cast, no matter how this turns out!” she snapped. “And my vote counts, goddamnit! Is that clear?”

The blaze of righteous fury from her cowed him as much as it dazzled him. God, she was pretty. “Uh, yeah,” he muttered. “Whatever.”

She harrumphed. “Good,” she said, after a moment, mollified.

He sat there, stupefied to realize that he actually did feel a little bit better. It probably didn’t run too deep, and it probably wouldn’t last too long, but hey. He would take what he could get and be grateful.

Besides. Getting bitched out by a girl in a low-cut dress whose tits bounced seductively every time her chest heaved had its positive side.

Then she kicked off her shoes, sat down on the chair, and hiked her skirt up so he could see the strip of pale skin above her stockings. She unhooked her garter, and started slowly, sensuously pulling her stockings off. His heart rate kicked up.

So did another part of his anatomy.



Becca’s hands shook with the effort to maintain the appearance of cool nonchalance. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was getting into, coming on to him when his mood was so unstable.

But if sweet reason wouldn’t do the job, hot pounding sex might.

“What’s with the striptease, Becca?” he asked, his voice hard. “Do you want to have sex?”

She shrugged with feigned indifference, moved on to the other stocking. “I don’t know. Have you finished sulking yet?”

“I could maybe put it aside for long enough to f*ck you,” he said.

“Hmmph,” she sniffed. She twitched down first one spaghetti strap, and then the other, and reached back, struggling for the zipper. “Does this mean your grumpy mood is going to crash right back down on me right after you come? Because you know damn well I hate that.”

“Anybody’s guess,” was his bland rejoinder. “No guarantees.”

“I will, of course, stick pins under your fingernails if you do that to me again,” she informed him.

His mouth twitched. “Yeah? You got pins in your bag?”

“Oh, yes. My handy dandy portable torture kit is always at the ready,” she assured him. He looked like he was trying not to smile, which was already a victory, so she swiftly followed up her advantage with a slow, hip-swaying walk towards him. She turned her back.

“Unzip me,” she ordered.

He did, and his hands fastened over her, so hot and buzzing with delicious energy that sent shivers racing through her, his fingers closely following the slow slide of the fabric down over her hips, bringing every tiny hair on her body to attention. His lips pressed against her back, moved against her spine. A slow, hot lick of his tongue. Ooh. Nice.

She turned around, spinning inside the strong circle of his arms, and wound her own arms around his neck. Burying her nose in his hair, inhaling his warm scent. “Aren’t you going to undress?”

He nuzzled her cleavage with a sigh, squeezing her bottom. “I have to go down to the men’s room in the lobby, and buy some condoms from the machine,” he said, sounding chagrined. “I meant to stop someplace on the way up here, but we got sidetracked by the blow job.”

OK. Here it was, the moment to make the big announcement. Or offer. Or mistake. Or whatever it was. Only time would tell.

“Um, Nick?” she asked, her voice small. “About the condoms…”