Up in Smoke (Crossing the Line, #2)(62)

Erin pulled away and sucked in a fortifying breath. “Let’s leave.” She smoothed a hand over one side of his perfect ass and tugged him against her, twisting her hips at the same time. “I need you.”

He closed his eyes and cursed. “I know what you’re doing. I know you’re using my goddamn need for you to keep me out of that house. Even knowing I’m being played, I still can’t fight it.”

Before she could form a single word of protest, he swung her up into his arms and started toward the street. Tears pushed against the back of her eyelids, scalding and heavy. His words hurt worse than the initial burn of his touch. He’d belittled what they’d just shared, disregarding it as a ploy. She wanted to curl up and live within the hurt because crawling out required too much effort. She knew hurt. They were old friends, whereas hope was a newcomer, twice as dangerous.

Connor stopped in front of his navy-blue SUV and flung open the door, placing her inside. He started to buckle her seat belt, but stopped when she tensed. He closed the door and rounded the back of the car. Her gaze followed him, noting that the destroyed back window had been covered with plastic. His silhouette halted at the back of the car, illuminated by the streetlight. Hands planted on hips, he hung his head a moment, body momentarily deflating of tension. For a moment, she thought he might leave her in the car and go back to the house, but she breathed a sigh of relief when he climbed into the driver’s side and started the engine.

He started to put on his seat belt, but stopped, letting it whoosh back into the strap holder, leaving himself unbuckled like her. When he spoke, he didn’t look at her. “If something happens to one of us, it happens to both now, Erin.”

Her fingers flew to her throat, placing pressure over the sudden tightness. She couldn’t form a single word on the drive home, but it didn’t stop her from thinking. This distrust between them, distrust she’d caused, would need to be repaired. Letting him touch her hadn’t worked, obviously. Even though she’d laid herself achingly bare, he still thought she’d planned to run away and never look back. That she’d been using his attraction to her against him.

She had one last card to play, though. Even if it might kill her.





Chapter Twenty


Connor prowled the kitchen, refusing to take his gaze off the bathroom door. On the other side, he could hear the shower running, knew Erin was in there, but having her gone from his sight so soon was like having a reprieve from death snatched away. She’d been silent on the ride home. God knows he hadn’t been in a chatty mood with a combination of raging lust and reticent fear lacing through his insides, but when she’d walked into the bathroom without a word, alarm had been thrown into the mix. When he thought of the blood on her face, her disheveled appearance, his vision sparked with red. It took considerable effort to calm down enough to wonder just what she’d been through. The last four days had been hell for him, but he was more concerned with what they had been like for her. It had happened on his watch. Anything that happened to her, any threat she encountered, was his responsibility. As chauvinistic as it sounded, he couldn’t rid himself of an instinct this strong.

Right now, his instinct was telling him to kick open the bathroom door and f*ck her screaming against the tiled shower wall. It was telling him to bandage her cut, dress her, put something substantial in her stomach. Not performing those tasks was causing him physical discomfort. How long did it take to shower, anyway?

He spun on a heel toward the fridge and took out the carton of orange juice, pouring it into a glass just as the bathroom door opened behind him. Steam curled out, appearing to carry her out the door in slow motion. Oh, holy f*ck. She was naked. Naked and dripping with water. Skin flushed from her shower…every inch of her glowed rosily. Temptation on two gorgeous legs. The orange juice slipped from his hands and landed on the floor, liquid gushing from the plastic cup, but he didn’t even pay it a glance. He wanted to go to her, but his legs wouldn’t move. Her lips spread into a tremulous smile as she turned and swayed toward the bedroom, her ass so delectable it set his teeth on edge.

He now had the ability to touch her. Jesus. It almost didn’t seem real that he should have such a privilege. But had he earned it? Was she really ready? Or was she trying to keep him distracted when he needed to be hunting down someone who could potentially harm her?

Whatever her motive, his willpower still refused to make an appearance. His cock pressed against the fly of his jeans so insistently, he had to reach down and lower the zipper. A groan fell from his mouth as his hard length bobbed free. He could be inside her tonight without keeping his hands out of the equation. It was a heady thought, but also a worrisome one. Taking away the use of his hands had been a way to guarantee he didn’t push too far. Didn’t succumb to the driving urge to pin her, dominate her. They might have overcome a huge obstacle, but his darker tastes hadn’t yet been addressed. After days of not knowing if he’d see her again, he didn’t know if he could keep himself in check. If he went too far and injured her progress, he’d die inside.

Unable to wait a second more, knowing she was in the bedroom naked, warm, wet, Connor strode after her. He gripped his cock and stroked as he went, something he hadn’t allowed himself in days, even when the pressure mounted or thoughts of Erin’s perfect touch bombarded him. He’d made her a promise and he intended to keep it. When he walked into the bedroom, the scene that greeted him drew him up short.