Defensive Heart: The Donnolleys, Book 2 (5 page)

“I can take hints just fine, Sonja-the-lawyer.” His lips were so close to hers, almost touching, but not quite.

If she breathed too deep, they’d be kissing. Sonja froze. She couldn’t kiss him. Could not. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking every hint you’re passing me. You want me just as bad as I want you. I can practically feel it rolling off you in waves.”

Sonja licked her lips and inhaled slowly. “I don’t…” Despite her frustration, her body softened in his embrace and traitorous nerve endings vibrated to attention. She cursed herself and dug her nails into his arms. “You can’t…”

“You do. And I can.” He nipped her bottom lip before releasing her.

Every inch of Sonja’s skin came alive, tingling from the contact, and her ability to think straight short-circuited. She let her breath out in a rush and gulped in another, seeking oxygen to fill her body in order to calm down. He stood before her, an intent look in his eyes; their gazes locked.
What the hell am I going to do with him?

“Let’s go get a burger. There’s a great place in the Village. You’ll love it.” He smiled.

Say no, Sonja. Say no.
“Fine. Dinner. But that’s it. And stop telling me what to do, dammit. I don’t know where you get off thinking you can order me around, Mr. Donnelly. I won’t tolerate it.”

“Call me James.” He walked past her to the curb and hailed a cab.

Sonja stepped next to him and smoothed the back of her hair.
Arrogant jerk.
Her heart raced. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip—she could still feel the little sting from his bite. His scent of clean soap with a hint of cologne lingered in her nose—her weakness. But then again James Donnelly seemed to personify her weakness.

He opened the cab door.

“Just dinner.” She took another deep breath and got inside the cab.

Chapter Six

Jimmy sat across from Sonja and watched while she tried for all it was worth to look proper eating a messy bacon double cheeseburger. She hadn’t wanted the layers of sloppy goodness and protested at every turn, but he’d ordered it anyway.

The woman was uptight. Actually, she made uptight look like child’s play. Not that it deterred him. After all, he lived in New York City, for fuck’s sake. “Bitch” was a theme there among almost all women. The difference with Sonja was the fire burning in her eyes. It was a blaze she kept carefully contained and Jimmy wanted to set it free and watch it burn. “You got a little something there.” Leaning across the table, he swiped the drop of ketchup off her chin with his thumb and then sucked it between his lips.

Sonja froze a moment before visibly swallowing her mouthful. “Thanks.” She wiped her lips with her napkin.

He smiled and leaned back in his chair, tilting it back on two legs. “My pleasure.”

“You’re staring.”

“I know.”

She widened her eyes. “Stop.”

“No.” He let the chair fall forward. “Guess you’re going to have to get used to it. I like staring at you.”

She rolled her eyes and took another bite of the burger.

“So, do you always fight small cases at Midtown or do you handle anything bigger?”

“Why? Do you need an attorney?”

He laughed. “No. But if I do, I’m definitely calling you.”

“I own the firm.” She sipped her soda. “I handle whatever I want.”

“Nice. What’re you doing with those piddly cases then?”

“Once a month I do pro bono service for the community.”

“Why, Sonja-the-lawyer, that’s quite generous of you. Someone might think you have a heart.” He raised his brows.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny.” She shook her head. “Tell me about your art.”

“My tattoos or the art I create?”

Sonja wiped her hands on her napkin. “Both I guess. Start with the art you create.”

“Sure.” He picked up a french fry and dragged it through the ketchup. “I dabble in a lot of different styles, but most all of it has an industrial theme.”

“You weld things. Sculptures and such?”

“I’ve been known to wield a blow torch on occasion, yeah.” He popped the fry in his mouth and then licked his fingers. She watched him. Her gaze flicked from his mouth back to his eyes in the space of a second, but she’d watched just the same.

“Tell me about the different styles.” She took the last bite of her burger.

“I like to paint, so I usually construct various items, mount them to a canvas and paint around them. Sometimes I paint the items too.”

“I see. Where do the ideas come from?”

Jimmy leaned forward, crossing his arms in front of him on the table. “Different things really. The City’s a big muse. The lights, the sounds, the smells—it all plays a part. Sometimes it’s music and sometimes it’s people.”

She sipped her soda. “The art in the bar in Vegas? Was it all yours or just some?”

“Most everything in there was mine. What did you think of it?”

“I don’t have an eye for art, but I found it interesting.” Sonja pushed her basket aside and wiped her hands on her perfectly folded napkin. “My tastes are probably too old-fashioned for you.”

“I’m sure you think so. Come on.” Jimmy stood and held out his hand for her. “I’ll show you some. My studio’s right around the corner.”

“Is that why you insisted on us coming here to eat?” She stood and reached for her bag, but Jimmy grabbed it before she could.

“Not exactly. But now that you’re here, I’d love to show you.” He took her hand and pulled her toward the door, settling his palm on her lower back.

Jimmy loved how petite Sonja felt beneath his touch, yet it was an illusion. She stood almost eye-to-eye with him. Jimmy’s palm itched to wrap around her side and pull her close, but he didn’t dare. He’d already pushed her to her limit outside the courthouse when he’d pulled her body close. She’d been so warm and soft against him, Jimmy thought he might spontaneously combust.

And the smarter her mouth got, the faster his adrenaline pumped. It made him want to bend her over his knee and spank her bare ass while she spouted every sarcastic comment she could think of, until finally begging him to stop. Jimmy groaned at the vision the thought conjured.

“Everything okay?”

He stroked her lower back with his thumb while they waited for the light to change at the crosswalk. “Yup. Everything’s perfect.”

She looked over at him and drew in a breath. He focused on her full lips when she exhaled. A bolt of lust zinged down his spine. Jimmy wanted to taste those lips. The sexual tension was building between them. How he was going to keep his hands off her once they were alone in his studio, he didn’t know. They crossed the street and Sonja’s cell rang. Jimmy steered them to the inner side of the sidewalk.

Sonja dug her phone out of her purse and put it to her ear. “Yes, Casey?” They continued walking, but her steps slowed. “What? No. You were supposed to be home thirty minutes ago. Where are you?”

Jimmy turned to look at her when she stopped walking. He pulled her to the side and then turned his back, trying to give her some privacy—but he wasn’t going to walk away from her. She’d have to deal with it.

“Are his parents home…? Casey Olivia Martin, I
told
you I did
not
want you going over that boy’s house when his parents aren’t there.”

He glanced over his shoulder at her. She was visibly upset, her brows drawn together in frustration.

“Get home now… No. No!” She shook her head and turned away from him. “I will ground you if your behind isn’t home in the next thirty minutes, and believe me I will be calling your father about this one. I’ve had enough of your defiance. Get home now.” Sonja pulled the phone from her ear. Her shoulders sank and her head fell forward.

Jimmy cupped her elbow in his palm. “Hey, you okay?”

Sonja pulled her arm away. “Yes. Perfectly fine.” She let out a breath and shoved the phone back in her purse before turning back toward him. Squaring her shoulders, she stood in a defensive stance, ready to take on the world if necessary. “You’ve got fifteen minutes to show me your studio but then you’ll have to excuse me.”

He put his hands in his pockets and gazed over her face, down her neck and shoulders, and to her legs. “That call sounded pretty upsetting. Care to share?”

Her eyes widened and deepened into a slate-blue color.
Fire and ice.
This was how it would be with them. He knew it like he knew his own name, but there was no doubt in his mind she didn’t have a clue. Yet.

She turned toward the street. “Don’t push me on this, James. It’s none of your concern. I should just go now.”

“Look, you don’t want to tell me then don’t. But I don’t want you to go yet. We’re already here so let’s keep going. You can fight with me upstairs if you want.”

She glared over her shoulder. “I’m not fighting with you.”

“Yeah, you are. All good, Sonja. It’s our version of foreplay.” He smirked and held out his hand to her.

“You’re twisted.”

“Maybe a little. Come on.” He nodded to his outstretched hand and, after a long pause, she finally took it.

They walked the remainder of the way in silence, hand-in-hand, turning the corner at the end of the block. Half a block later, they were in front of his building. He glanced at the metal door. Well, he’d gotten her to his studio. Fuck if he knew what to do with her next.

Chapter Seven

Sonja stepped through the doorway of his building. It was clean and bright, which was a pleasant surprise. Nervous energy ran like a river from her palms to her chest and down to her stomach.
What the hell am I doing?
Was she really going to his studio? Alone?

They entered the elevator and she drew in a breath.
It’s just his studio, not his apartment or anything.
She’d check out some of his art and be on her way. She had Casey to deal with after all. Her daughter was really beginning to push Sonja past her limits.

The elevator moved at a snail’s pace and while she watched each floor number light up one at a time, James watched her. In fact, he only seemed to take his eyes off her when necessary. It bothered her. Like she was some sort of bug under a microscope or something. “You’re staring again.”

“Get used to it.”

She smoothed her hand up the back of her hair. “I don’t intend to get used to anything.”

He chuckled and the masculine sound of it spread through her like warm honey. The elevator dinged, signaling his floor.
Thank God.
They’d only risen six floors, but the trip felt like they’d gone sixty.

“To your left. Last door.”

“All right.” Sonja stepped into the hall and walked in the direction he’d directed.

Again he moved right next to her, his hand pressed to her lower back. She liked it, more than she wanted to admit. The warmth of his insistent touch rekindled the memory of how he’d grabbed her outside the courthouse. How he’d nipped her bottom lip. She’d wanted him to kiss her. Which was crazy because at the same time she wanted to slap his face and push him away. The man made her mind fuzzy, made her want things she normally never wanted. Especially from someone like him.

When they reached the door, James dug his keys from his front pocket. He unlocked the door and pushed it open, motioning for her to enter. The first thing she noticed in the entry hall was a small side table. A few sculptured clay bowls sat atop it. One bowl held keys and other miscellaneous items. The second thing she noticed was the beautiful dark mahogany wood floor stretching out before her.

James set his keys in the bowl on the small table. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“You have a refrigerator?” She shrugged. “I guess that makes sense. Water if you have it.”

He moved past her and stepped through a doorway ahead on the left. She followed and peeked inside. It was a full kitchen.
Why does he have a full kitchen in his studio?
Sonja ventured farther down the hall until it opened into a large space. Complete with a small dining table tucked in the corner and beyond, a couch, a love seat, chair, ottoman, coffee table—
holy crap, this is his apartment!

He placed her briefcase on the table and held out a bottle of water to her. “Here you go.”

“I thought we were going to your studio.”

“We are.”

Confusion boomeranged in her mind. She took the offered bottle and opened it. “This is your apartment.”

“Yup.”

“James, did you think you could just take me back to your apartment and…what? What
did
you think exactly?”

He sipped his water. “This is my home, Sonja, and it’s also my studio. Lighten up, would you? You’re always so damn uptight.”

“You said
your studio
. You failed to mention it was
also
your home.”

“Fine. Guilty. Happy now? Drink your water and relax. My studio is downstairs.” He turned away from her and headed for a set of stairs tucked against the wall.

“Fine.” With a sigh, she followed and took each step down carefully in her heels. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a jerk?”

He laughed. “A time or two, yeah.”

“At least you’re aware. I suppose there’s hope for you then.”

He flipped a light switch at the bottom of the steps, illuminating the space. “Sonja Martin, did you just make a joke?”

“It happens on occasion. Don’t get too excited about it.” Navigating the last step, she followed behind him into a large space with brick walls and a stained concrete floor.

“There’s the girl I’ve barely come to know.”

“Please, you don’t know m—” A large canvas propped against the brick wall to her right caught her attention. It was smeared with red and yellow paint. Sonja took a moment and looked around, noticing the different pieces of his work in different stages of creation.

Against the far wall, which was made up entirely of windows, was a long table. Several pieces of scrap metal were scattered atop it. Some were car parts, from what she could tell, but others were unidentifiable. She moved to another piece on an easel to her left. There were intricate lines of what looked like copper wires that appeared to be welded together. The lines framed images painted on the canvas. A city skyline with a river in the distance and a bridge. It was almost elegant, in an odd sort of way.

“That’s my latest commissioned piece. I need to have it done by this weekend.”

“It’s beautiful. Truly.”

He stepped behind her, his body so close she felt the heat radiating off it. James placed his hands on her waist. “Thank you.”

Sonja melted beneath his touch. “What else needs to be done to it?”

“It needs more shaping, more manipulation of the copper with my hands.” His breath feathered over her ear and he pressed his body against hers. At the same time, he ran his hands up her sides and then back down to her hips.

“How?” Her breath eased from her lips. She needed him to stop touching her. She didn’t want him to ever stop.

“When I heat the metal, Sonja, it becomes pliable, soft.” He moved his hands under her blazer and over her stomach. “It responds to my touch and lets me shape it.”

She was shaking, quivering from the inside out. “Then what?”

“Then it becomes what I want it to be. What
it
needs and wants to be.” He nipped her ear.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. The tingle from his tender bite traveled down her neck to her spine, and she let her head fall back onto his shoulder. “Oh God.”

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He moved his hands up her stomach to under her breasts and kissed behind her ear, then explored her neck with his mouth and tongue, nipping her sensitive skin with his teeth.

Sonja reached back and ran her fingers through his hair. He was treating her like the metal he spoke of. Warming her in order to mold her the way he wanted. Heaven help her, she wanted to let him.

James turned her to face him and the room spun around her in a daze of heady lust. He cupped her face in his palms. “Let me heat you up.” He kissed her neck again. “I’ll make you pliable, Sonja.” He pressed his lips to her jaw and then her chin. “Say yes.”

She’d closed her eyes at some point and only realized she’d done so when she opened them to gaze into pools of warm hazel. “Yes,” she whispered.

“There’s the fire.” He tilted her head to the side and stroked his tongue over her bottom lip.

Sonja gripped the back of his neck, not sure if it was to keep from falling or because she wanted him closer. He moved his hands from her face and ran one palm down the front of her neck. He licked at her upper lip and ran his other hand up her back, pulling her tighter to him. His erection pressed against her through his jeans. “You’re shaking.”

Wetness coated her panties and her clit throbbed. “Please…”

“Please what, Sonja?” He moved his hand lower, trailing his fingers over the juncture of her cleavage.

She swallowed. “Kiss me.”

He said nothing else, just met her mouth with his own. Parting her lips with his tongue, he delved in to stroke and tease.
Oh God. Oh God. I can’t. I want. Please.
James.
Sonja moaned and moved her hands higher on his neck, gripping the soft strands of his hair. He backed her against the brick wall and deepened the kiss. Yes, fire.