Page 32 of Heartbreaker (Buchanan-Renard 1)

  Nick came out of the bathroom wearing a pair of plaid boxer shorts. He was towel drying his hair but paused when he saw her frowning. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I was just thinking . . .”

  He tossed the towel over a chair, then went to the side of the other bed and pulled back the covers as he asked, “About tonight?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Then what were you thinking about?”

  “Trust me. You don’t want to know.”

  “Sure I do. Tell me what you were thinking,” he prodded as he stacked the pillows against the headboard and then reached over to turn the lamp off.

  “All right, I will. I was trying to figure out how to seduce you.”

  His hand was halfway to the lamp when he froze. She couldn’t believe she’d blurted out the truth that way. But she certainly had grabbed his full attention. He stayed perfectly still, like a deer caught in the headlights, then slowly straightened and turned to stare at her.

  His expression was priceless. Had she not been mortified, she would have laughed. Nick looked dumbfounded. He was obviously waiting for some kind of a disclaimer or clarification, or maybe even a punch line, she supposed, but she honestly didn’t know what to tell him, and so she lifted her shoulders in a shrug, as if to say, there it is, believe it or not, take me or leave me.

  “Are you joking?” His voice was hoarse.

  She slowly shook her head. “Have I shocked you?”

  He took a step back, shaking his head. He’d obviously decided not to believe her.

  “You did ask me to tell you what I was thinking about.”

  “Yeah, well . . .”

  “I’m not embarrassed.”

  Her face was the color of the red T-shirt.

  “No reason to be,” he stammered.

  “Nick?”

  “What?”

  “What do you think about what I just said?”

  He didn’t answer her. She pushed the covers aside and got out of bed. He quickly backed away from her. Before she could blink, he was halfway across the room.

  “I’m not going to attack you.”

  “Damn right you’re not.”

  She took a step toward him. “Nick . . .”

  He cut her off. “Stay right where you are, Laurant.” He pointed his finger at her as he gave the order . . . or, rather, shouted it. And he kept backing away until he bumped into the television, which would have crashed to the floor had it not been bolted to the wall.

  She was mortified. He was acting as though he was afraid of her. She certainly hadn’t anticipated such a bizarre response. Disbelief maybe, even anger. But fear? Until this moment, she hadn’t believed Nick was afraid of anything.

  “What’s the matter with you?” she whispered.

  “It’s out of the question. That’s what’s the matter with me. Now stop it, Laurant. Stop it right this minute.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Talking crazy.”

  Too embarrassed to look him in the eyes, she bowed her head and stared at the floor tiles. It was too late to take the words back or pretend she hadn’t said them, and so she decided to make everything a hundred times worse and tell him everything.

  “There’s more,” she said, her voice whisper soft.

  “I don’t want to hear it.”

  She ignored his protest. “When you kiss me, I get this funny, tingling feeling in my stomach, and I don’t want you to stop. I’ve never felt that way before. I just thought you should know.” She heard him groan but couldn’t make herself look at him yet. “And you know what’s really odd?”

  “I don’t want to—”

  She interrupted him, desperate to get the declaration out before she lost her courage. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

  She dared a quick look up to see how he was taking the announcement and wished to God she hadn’t bothered. To his credit, he didn’t look like he was afraid of her any longer. No, now he looked like he wanted to kill her. It wasn’t what she would consider a step in the right direction.

  She seemed driven to make it worse. “No, I’m not falling in love with you. I do love you,” she stubbornly insisted.

  “When the hell did that happen?” he demanded. The anger in his voice stung like a whip. She flinched and blinked away the tears in her eyes.

  “I don’t know.” She sounded bewildered. “It just did. I certainly didn’t plan it. You’re all wrong for me,” she said. “I couldn’t handle an affair. I want it all, marriage till death do us part, and I want babies. Lots of babies. You don’t want any of that. I understand we don’t have a future together, but I thought that if I could persuade you to make love to me just this one time, that it would be enough. It wouldn’t change anything.”

  “The hell it wouldn’t.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, stop shaking your head at me. Forget I mentioned it. And by the way, I find your reaction insulting. I thought that you felt . . . that you cared as much as I . . . oh, never mind. A simple ‘no thank you’ would have sufficed. You didn’t need to let me know how appalled you are by the notion of sleeping with me.”

  “Damn it, Laurant, try to understand.”

  “I do understand. You’ve made your position perfectly clear. You don’t want me.”

  “Are you crying?” The question sounded like a threat.

  She’d die before she admitted it. “No, of course not.” She wiped the tears from her face, but it didn’t stem the tide. “It just looks that way.”

  “Ah, Laurant, don’t cry,” he begged.

  “It’s my allergies.” A sob escaped. “I need a tissue.”

  She tried to walk past him to the bathroom, but he reached for her and pulled her toward him. She collapsed against his chest and let the tears come. He wrapped her in his arms, kissed the top of her head, then her forehead.

  “You listen to me, Laurant.” He sounded like a drowning man desperate for help. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t love me. You’ve been through hell and you’re frightened, and your emotions are all mixed up now.”

  He knew what was happening to her. She was mistaking gratitude for love. Easy to do, given the circumstances. Yes, that was it. She couldn’t love him. She was too good for him, too sweet, too perfect. And he didn’t deserve her. He had to stop this now, before it was too late.

  “I know what’s in my heart, Nick. I love you.”

  “Stop saying that.”

  He sounded angry, but he was kissing her fervently at the same time, and he was being so very gentle. She didn’t know how to interpret the mixed signals. She couldn’t stop holding him, touching him.

  “Sweetheart, please stop crying. It’s making me crazy.”

  “My allergies are acting up,” she cried against his collarbone.

  “You don’t have allergies,” he whispered as he brushed his lips against her neck. He loved her scent. She smelled like flowers and soap and woman.

  He was lost and he knew it. He cupped the sides of her face with his hands and gently kissed the tears away. “You are so lovely,” he whispered, and his mouth covered hers, demanding and urgent now, unrelenting, his tongue stroking hers. He began to tremble like a young man experiencing his first attempt at lovemaking. Only this wasn’t awkward. It was perfect.

  God, how he wanted this. And yet there was still a part of him that tried to pretend he was merely offering her comfort. Until his hands slid up under her T-shirt and he was caressing warm, silky skin. The hell with comfort. He wanted her with a burning intensity that shook him to the core and scared the hell out of him.

  He couldn’t stop stroking her. She felt so good against him, so soft, so right. He was pulling her T-shirt over her head and trying to kiss her at the same time, even as he told her that they couldn’t do anything they would regret in the morning light.

  She frantically agreed as she tugged on the snap of his shorts, and then pushed them down. Her hands slid back up his thighs and began to caress h

im intimately.

  Her fingers were magical, the feather light touch against his groin exquisite torture. He was hard and throbbing, and when he knew he wouldn’t last another minute if she kept stroking him, he grabbed her hands and lifted them up around his neck. Then he roughly pressed against her, and the feel of her soft full breasts against him was damn near his undoing. Velvety skin rubbed against his as he tried to devour her with his mouth.

  He pulled away from her. “Wait, I’ve got to protect you,” he whispered and then went into the bathroom to get what he needed from his shaving kit. He returned and paused for a moment. “Laurant, I . . .” Any second thoughts he may have had vanished when she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him.

  They fell into bed together, all legs and arms. He shifted positions so that he lay on top of her, nudging her thighs apart so he could rest between them. He lifted his head and looked at her swollen lips and was suddenly overwhelmed by her beauty.

  His hand cupped one breast, his fingers slowly circling the hard nipple. She let out a little gasp and closed her eyes, letting him know she liked that, and so he did it again and again as he watched her aroused response.

  He was determined to slow the tempo, to give her as much pleasure as he could before he surrendered.

  “I have wanted you for the longest time,” he whispered. “From the moment I saw you, I wanted those long legs of yours around me. It’s all I could think about.”

  His face was dark with passion, and his blue eyes glittered dangerously. She gently trailed her fingertips down the line of his hard jaw, then his throat.

  “You know what else I’ve wanted?”

  And then he showed her with his hands and his mouth what he had been thinking about. He knew where to touch, how much pressure to exert, when to withdraw. She moved restlessly against him, her caresses soon becoming more and more demanding, until her nails were biting into his shoulders and she was begging him to end his teasing.

  His mouth was driving her crazy while his hands slid down the sides of her body. His fingers stroked her inner thighs, so soft, so sensitive. He felt her arch against him and heard her gasp as his knuckles deliberately brushed against the swirling dark curls between her thighs. He loved the sexy sound she made when he touched her so intimately.

  He made love to her, telling her without words how he adored her.

  Laurant had never experienced bliss like this. Such exquisite sensations coursed through her. She arched up against him again, far more demanding now.

  “Now, Nick . . . please. Oh, God, now . . .”

  He thrust into her forcefully, unable to quell the groan of sheer satisfaction as he became part of her, and when she wrapped her legs around him, he groaned again. Reality was much better than fantasy. She was better than anything he could have ever imagined. Fully imbedded inside her, his head dropped to the crook of her neck, and he took a deep, calming breath and tried to slow the pace. Nick was determined to make their lovemaking unforgettable.

  He began to move slowly within her. “Do you like that?”

  “Yes,” she cried out.

  “And this?” he whispered as his hand slid down between their joined bodies to stroke her. Her cry of ecstasy was all the encouragement he needed. Her arm curled around his neck, and she dragged him down for a long, hot kiss.

  “Don’t ever stop,” she whispered.

  He drove deep once again. She lifted her hips, straining against him to take as much of him inside her warmth as possible. She wanted to please him, but in the web of passion that he had created, there wasn’t room for worry or for the fear of disappointing him.

  Neither one of them could slow the pace, both frantic now to find release.

  She came before he did and began to sob with the beauty of her surrender and the love she felt for him. Nick felt her tremble in his arms as every part of her body tightened around him, and with a near shout of pleasure, he climaxed deep inside of her. The orgasm was unlike any he had ever experienced in the past. He neither questioned the difference nor understood it. He merely accepted that this was unique and so special he would never be able to settle for anything less again.

  He stayed inside of her a long time, but when he finally rolled to his side and tenderly took her into his arms to hold her close, she trustingly curled up against him, her hand splayed across the curly mat of hair on his chest.

  Laurant was too overwhelmed to speak. She could barely form a coherent thought. When she was finally able to breathe again, she leaned up to look at his face.

  She stared into those deep blue eyes, so intense now with the residue of raw passion, and smiled as she arched against him like a well-fed cat. She loved the feel of his hard body against hers. The hair on his legs tickled her toes, and she loved that feeling too.

  She loved him. Now and always, she admitted. Then she saw the worry creep into his gaze, and she tried to think of a way to ward off the regret she knew he would be feeling soon. She gave him a long, lingering kiss, and then she smiled at him again. “You know what I think?”

  “What’s that?” he asked on a yawn, still too exhausted and content to move.

  “I could get really good at this.”

  He groaned, but then she felt the low rumble building in his chest, and he suddenly was laughing. “You’ll kill me if you get any better.”

  “You liked it too?”

  “How can you ask me such a question?”

  She traced the corded muscle along his shoulder, noticed the faded jagged scar on his upper arm, and leaned up to kiss it.

  “How did this happen?”

  “Football.”

  “And this?” she asked as she touched the faint scar on his hip. “Was it a bullet?”

  “Football,” he said again. She didn’t look like she believed him. “Honest,” he said. “It’s a football cleat.”

  “Have you ever been shot?” Her voice trembled when she asked.

  “No,” he answered. “Stabbed, punched, kicked, scratched, and spit on, yes, but shot, no.” Not yet anyway, he silently qualified. A scar from a knife wound—an ice pick actually—was on his back, down low by his left kidney. A couple of inches higher and he wouldn’t have lived. Maybe Laurant wouldn’t notice that scar, but if she did, he decided he wouldn’t lie to her.

  “Most of the scars are from football,” he said.

  She threaded her fingers through his hair. “Except for the ones you carry inside.”

  He pulled her hand away. “Don’t get sentimental on me. Everybody carries around a little baggage.”

  He was trying to close up on her, to pull away emotionally, but she wouldn’t let him take the coward’s path. When he rolled onto his back and curtly told her it was time they got a little sleep, she ignored the suggestion.

  She rolled over on top of him. Stacking her hands under her chin, she stared down into his eyes.

  His hands were already on her hips. He wanted to make her get off him and go to sleep before he gave in to his desire and made love to her again, but he couldn’t make himself let go of her.

  “Promise me something, and I’ll let you sleep,” she said.

  “What?” He sounded suspicious.

  “No matter what happens . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “No regrets. All right, Nick?”

  He nodded. “What about you.”

  “No regrets,” she vowed.

  “Agreed,” he said.

  “Say it.”

  He sighed. “No regrets.”

  And both of them were lying.

  CHAPTER 29

  Heartbreaker didn’t like surprises, unless, of course, he was the one doling them out.

  Tonight was chock full of unpleasant surprises. He had already heard that the mule was ridiculing him, and he had taken it all in stride. He expected stupidity from mules, so he was only mildly bothered to hear some of the names he was being called. Sticks and stones . . . words couldn’t hurt him. Until tonight, when he heard that Laurant wa

s also spreading vile lies. She had called him impotent. He could barely stand the thought of her lips forming the hideous word. How dare she betray him? How dare she?

  He had to get even, and he was driven to act quickly. The need to punish her overrode caution. How long had he stood in the back lot looking up at her window? At least an hour, maybe two. He didn’t know. When the need grabbed hold of him, time wasn’t important.

  And then he’d seen Lonnie. The stupid boy was climbing up the tree, the very same tree Heartbreaker had used countless times to get inside her house and watch her during the night.

  He watched Lonnie crawl across the roof and slip onto the overhang outside the bathroom window. Just the way he had done. Clever boy, he thought. Following in my footsteps.

  While waiting to see what Lonnie was going to do, his attention was distracted by another man. Good old Steve Brenner was creeping around to Laurant’s back door. Now what was he up to?

  The neighbor’s dog couldn’t tell on him. Heartbreaker had killed the animal so that he could move freely about the yard during the night. He had seen to the yapping dog, and now Lonnie Boy and Steve Brenner were taking advantage of his work.

  The surprises kept coming, escalating until the house was in flames and Brenner was surrounded by mules.

  He could walk away now and no one would be the wiser. They thought they had their man. After he’d taken a little stroll down the streets of Holy Oaks and found what he was looking for, he’d made a little deposit and gone happily on his way. The opportunity had fallen into his lap. Yes, he could walk away, but would he? Now that was a question haunting him.

  What a quandary. Yes, sirree. Could he? Would he?

  His obsession was turning him into a cold-blooded murderer. No, that wasn’t true, he forced himself to admit. He was already a killer. A perfect killer, he qualified. His ego insisted that he give himself his due. A part of him was quite analytical about it all, and he was able to recognize what was happening to him, but he couldn’t make himself mourn the loss of what others would call his sanity. He wasn’t crazy. No, of course, he wasn’t. But he was vengeful. No doubt about that. It was his sacred duty to give back what had been given to him.