HellKat (4 page)

Damn him!

With her hand engulfed in his, he placed his other at her lower back, the heat from his palm like a brand through the fabric of her dress, causing her skin to sizzle in need as he guided her through the restaurant. Their determined march parted the bustle of bodies in the lobby and hotel reception area along the path headed toward the golden bank of elevators. Tucker pushed a button, then faced Kat, his thumb caressing her hand. He angled back against the marble tiled wall, rested a boot up against the glossy surface, and pulled her between his long legs. He drew her closer for a kiss, but she resisted, backed away as an elevator pinged its availability. She shot him a coy smile, released his hand, and entered the now-empty car with her bad boy in tow as if tethered to her.

After making the floor selection, he moved with clear purpose toward her. She shook her head in warning, determination written on her face. Tucker chuckled, stepped back, and rested against his side of the elevator, his hands sliding into his front pockets.

“You seriously gonna fight me on everything?”

“Pretty much.” The twinkle in her eyes answered the spark in his.

He pressed his lips together and smiled.

“You are a hellcat. No doubt about it.” He wet his lips and shook his head in contemplation as his eyes raked over her body.

Kat folded her arms in front of herself. “And I suppose you think you’re just the man to tame me.”

He seemed to consider it as he scrutinized her.

“Wouldn’t want you tame, sweetheart. Where’s the fun in that? Now,
trying
to tame you ... well, that’s a whole different story. That’s where the real fun is.” His eyes darkened with hunger. “And it’s gonna be worth every scratch down my back.”

Kat’s eyes widened with excitement, body throbbed with need, from the images his brazen talk elicited. She took a slow, deep breath to center herself. The bell chimed, and Tucker gestured for her to step out ahead of him. He grasped her hand, brushed his thumb over her knuckles, and led her down the hall. Her heart sped up in apprehension, second thoughts. He seemed to sense her uncertainty and gave her hand a gentle squeeze, smiled in reassurance, as they rounded a corner. He pulled the key card from his back pocket, dropped it in the slot, and then pushed open the heavy door.

Once inside, Kat tossed her bag on a nearby sofa. Doubts extinguished, she grabbed Tucker’s shirt and yanked him down hard, kissed him even harder. His lips curved into a smile against hers. His fingers roamed up her back, pulled down the zipper on her dress, and then his rough hands slid inside, lit her skin on fire with their firm touch. They stepped, circled, teetered, and ended up against a wall in a mad rush of hormones and heat.

She undid the knot of hair at his neck, pushed away from their hungry kiss, and watched the blond strands fall into place, frame his rugged features. She admired the man in front of her, in all his wild glory. And he seemed to be feeding off her obvious approval.

Holy hell! Why had she ever thought
this
wouldn’t
be sexy?

She brushed away the stray strands hiding the sharp angles of his face. Then her hands tunneled through his hair and she pulled his mouth down to hers. His strong arms molded around her, hands trailed down to her backside, gripping it with command, before sinking further to grasp the hem of her dress to glide it up and over the swell of her hips. He stroked between her legs, pressed the black lace against her sensitive flesh, enflamed her, drenched her in heavy desire and wanton need. He groaned into her mouth when his fingers slid into her wet heat, and then circled and curled inside her, finding and teasing the sweet spot that drove her crazy.

As she spun closer to the edge of bliss, Kat pulled back. She wasn’t about to let him off this easy. He needed to work harder for it. She’d gone without a man long enough that a ten-minute game of slap and tickle wasn’t going to cut it. Hell, she needed this night to hold her over for a while. So she filled her head with any unsexy thing to divert the runaway train from barreling off the cliff.

Without warning, Tucker’s skilled fingers released her and he sighed against her lips. He breathed hotly next to her ear. “Really gonna fight me on this too, sweetheart?” His tongue outlined the shell of her ear, then he bit at the lobe, dragged his teeth across the tender fold before his lips settled on and sucked hard at the sensitive spot just below her ear. She struggled against him and the damned hickey she knew would be evident in the morning. However, the wild moan that ripped from her throat contradicted the fight in her body.

“I get the feelin’ we’re gonna fight all night about who’s gonna be on top.” His throaty tone felt like the tease of sandpaper brushed across her flesh. A needy whimper escaped her trembling lips. Tucker cocked his head, the moonlight shading his expression of supreme confidence. “Looks like I’m gonna need to break you, sweetheart—just temporarily, of course.” He dropped down, kissed her hard, then stepped back and pulled off his T-shirt, tossing it across the room.

Kat gasped. Holy hell! What did he do to get a body like that? Hers hummed with longing from the sight of him and his feral expression, the promise of a long night ahead. He surprised her, caught her midgawk, and ripped off her skimpy panties. Before she could protest, he dropped to his knees, hooked her legs over his shoulders, and gave her no time to think about anything other than the proximity of his lips to hers.

Kat stretched across the cool surface of the wall, her hands splayed against it for balance as Tucker positioned her, held her, on his broad shoulders. She gasped at the feel of his mouth on her, then filled the room with her needy pleas, howls, curses, and prayers as she rocked against him. Sweet salvation drew nearer, then she shouted her overdue release like a call to prayer, ending in a deep, shuddering breath.

When Kat’s feet eventually touched the floor, her wobbly knees supported her boneless frame against the wall. She attempted to regain some authority over her body and allowed Tucker to peel her dress off over her head. He wasted no time unclasping her bra and pulling it off her fevered flesh. He groaned when he stepped back to look at her in nothing but her lacy-banded thigh-highs and heels.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he said, his whisper rough and soaked with need. Then he came at her hard and fast, gripped her face, and pulled her up for a blazing kiss tasting of her own sweet arousal.

Kat mapped his strong back and snaked around to his front, fingers reading his body like a Braille tablet. She moaned. Oh God, he was so hard—
everywhere
. Making quick work of his belt buckle, she dropped his jeans and grasped his perfect ass in her greedy hands, pulled him closer, rubbed his erection even tighter against her. Sliding her hand into his trunks, she stroked his hard length, eliciting his grateful moans of encouragement. Her heart thundered with anticipation.

“You better damn well have a glove, Tucker.” Her desperate whisper sounded more like a warning.

His chuckle rippled against her skin. Out of thin air, he ripped the top off a foil packet with his teeth and spit the strip out over his shoulder. He gave her a challenging look. “Who’s gonna be on top, sweetheart?”

She considered the open-ended question. The slew of graphic, indecent possibilities streamed in full color as she memorized every detail of his raw masculinity: the sharp angles, the corded muscles, the sprinkling of hair across his chest leading down to that part of him to which no battery-operated boyfriend could ever compare. She made her decision, her expression resolute.

“We’re doing it right here,” she said, her command punctuated with a slap of her palms against the wall. “No fighting that way.”

Tucker licked the smile on his lips, sheathed himself, then easily lifted Kat, sliding her further up the wall, level with him. “Oh, there’s gonna be fightin’, all right. You can count on it. You’re not gettin’ away that fast, sweetheart.”

In one fluid movement, he dropped her down and drove home, filled her as they both tensed, groaned, and adjusted to the powerful sensations. Tucker fisted a hand in her hair, held her tight, forced her to look at him. “I don’t need much lead time, so we’ll be takin’ turns on top after this.”

“Oh, just shut the hell up, Tucker,” she said, with a moan, before silencing him with a kiss.

Tucker flipped on the bathroom light, leaving the door open a crack; he wanted to see her sprawled across the bed in all her soft, curvy, bed-hog glory. Sound asleep on her back and snoring softly, a tangle of hair, shadows, sheets, and pillows lay tumbled around his now-docile hellcat. His gut warmed, spreading the heavy heat in every direction as the day’s events recapped in his head. Addicted already and needing a fix, he reached out to touch her, but changed his mind, afraid she might wake, and leave.

He already knew their accidental meeting fell under life’s heading of “the right place at the right time,” and he did not want to squander his good fortune. Tucker Williams had never felt luckier in his entire life than he did at this moment, this crossroad. He’d always prided himself on reading people and, above all, knowing himself. Those two things alone had gotten him this far, and successfully. He hoped like hell it would be enough this time.

This woman was different. Smart as hell, independent—
complete
, a force to be reckoned with, and she would not take a back seat to anyone. Some men might not like that, but he did. As a matter of fact, he couldn’t seem to get enough, had baited and provoked her right to the edge from the second he’d walked up to her. Whereas some might find her smart-ass comments and cool demeanor off-putting, he saw it all as a challenge. One he wanted to rise to, wanted to take and not let go.

One he wanted to be worthy of.

One certainty stuck in his mind when it came to the woman now stretching languidly under his watchful eyes: to get past her barriers, he’d have to meet her head on, as an equal. After the last twelve hours with her, he suspected most men in her past had tried to change her in some way, tried to control her. Fools, all of them. Muted moonlight skipped across his grin. Thank God for fools.

Dragging a hand over his whiskered face, he relived the feel of her tender curves squirming and naked underneath him. They’d taken plenty of turns on top, and she’d loved topping him. No doubt about it; she was a wild woman, a true hellcat. The memory of her riding him like a bucking bronco, free of all inhibitions, spread an indulgent smile across his face. He grew hard again just thinking about it. He couldn’t wake her, though; the clock glared an ungodly hour, a workday. He dropped his head into his hands as he sat hunched on the edge of the bed.

A workday. Goddamn work.

“Fuck.” He shook his head at the whispered word, squeezed his eyes closed.

He lifted off the bed and moved to sit in a chair, shadowed in the corner. What was he going to do now? What the hell had he been thinking yesterday? He’d always had an endgame before he made a move. He’d done everything backwards with her. He hadn’t been able to stop himself after she’d flirted with the damned bartender yesterday. Now he was totally screwed. How could he convince her not to hate him? How could he keep from being left out in the cold?

He watched the twist and roll of her body, listened to the soft moans and sleepy mumbles as she shifted to her side. A pillow flopped to the floor and the sheet receded to reveal more of her creamy skin. Was she dreaming about him? She let out a delicate sigh, looked so soft, sweet, and vulnerable. He huffed and shook his head in regret. She was going to hate him and have every right to.

Come sunrise, his hellcat would be back—teeth bared, claws out.

****

Kat stepped into the taxi feeling refreshed and energized. She’d taken a long hot shower, charged her dead cell battery, and now headed to the office. A deep breath pulled a serene smile on her contented face. Yesterday had certainly been an unexpected surprise. A shiver raced up her back as she recalled the night spent with Tucker Williams.

She still couldn’t believe what she’d done. Since her days of unabashed, youthful indiscretions at Columbia, she’d nixed one-night stands, especially now as a woman in the second half of her thirties. Oh yeah, she talked a big game,
loved
to flirt—hell, it was one of her favorite pastimes, but she’d had certain rules for a long time now. And she’d broken every damned one of them last night.

Curiosity had gotten the better of her, tempted her to take a walk on the wild side again. Maybe it was just the man himself. As exasperating as Tucker could be, she’d felt an unmistakable pull toward him the longer she’d sat near him, the more he’d riled her up. She knew he’d done it on purpose. He wasn’t some clueless man; he’d known exactly what he was doing yesterday. She shook her head and glanced out at the pedestrians moving faster than the taxi.

She’d never been with a man who looked or sounded like Tucker. Jesus, what a cocky bastard, but the man could back it up. She’d gotten used to men disappointing her over the years, in bed and out, but he’d exceeded her expectations, her wildest dreams. She couldn’t remember ever having had so much fun in bed with a man.
Fun
. They laughed, fought, and played. You name it, they did it like sex-starved animals racing against the apocalypse.

She pressed her lips together and snickered, shook her head at the memories. Okay, Kathryn James, fun and done, now get back to reality, she chastised in her head. But he was a hard man to forget. Compared to her own experiences and her friends’ stories over the years, she’d had a flipping phenomenal one-night stand, one for the record books. The rarity of their chance encounter made letting go difficult. She wanted to savor the sweat-soaked memories a while longer.

Kat tugged self-consciously at her collar. She’d had to leave her hair down, use cover-up, and wear a collared blouse this morning to hide the damned hickey he’d left. She squirmed at the steamy images of the other marks hidden beneath her clothing.

She’d left Tucker twisted in the sheets sound asleep about five thirty this morning. Just as well. What could they really have said to each other? Better to leave quietly, no pretense of calling, exchanging numbers, all the awkward nonsense magnified in the light of reality. He had a life to get back to in Montana anyway. And most important: he wasn’t her type. They lived in different worlds, opposite sides of the country. Now, at least, she had a complete erotic collection of memories to keep tucked away for use when the time came to reacquaint herself with—B.O.B.

After paying the cabbie, Kat stopped for coffee, then squeezed into the cramped metal box for the grumbling ride upstairs. She headed straight for Cassie’s office, surprised not to get any calls from her type-A partner about the failed meeting yesterday. Just as well, Cassie would be disappointed by the news, but they could find another investor. She closed in on her partner’s corner office and scrunched her face at the empty space. Kat would call if she didn’t hear from Cassie in the next half hour.

Flipping the lights on in her own corner office, Kat dropped her tote on a chair. She glanced across her desk and noticed the talking points Cassie had so meticulously prepared for her. Without looking at it, she tossed the paper into her trash can and strolled over to a window to watch the busy morning traffic below. She leaned against the window frame and savored the aroma and taste of the caramel macchiato she’d purchased downstairs.

She wondered what Tucker was doing. She imagined him warm and naked, morning wood tenting the sheet, his blue eyes daring her to take him down, his fingers tickling and teasing—she shook her head to clear the carnal pictures of him, of them. Then Dan’s face replaced Tucker’s, and she shook her head again, harder.

Where had he come from?

She’d come close to calling him numerous times over the past few months. Last night she’d almost speed-dialed him before deciding Tucker should be the one to ease the ache he’d caused.

Dan Walsh.

Colorful memories packed with countless good times bathed her in familiar, wistful affection, a special bond created over many, many years. He’d been a great friend through life’s ups and downs. Their friendship, relationship, whatever the broader classification had been, had worked well for both of them during college and the go-go years of getting their respective businesses off the ground. The friends-lovers had withstood the test of time.

Until time played a cruel trick.

Their synergy hit a wall about a year ago; he’d wanted more, a relationship with strings attached. Followed by a fateful mistake on his part.

An ultimatum.

He should’ve known better than to push her into a corner …

“Oh, great, you’re here,” Cassie said, stepping into Kat’s office.

“Hey! You must be feeling better.”

Cassie beamed like the proverbial cat who’d swallowed the canary as she rubbed her hands together, a huge grin lighting up her pale face. “Great news, Kat,” she said, with hushed excitement. “I think we’re going to get the money.”

“What’re you talking about?”

Cassie gave her a perplexed look. “Diamond Industries, silly. What else would I be talking about?”

Kat scoffed. “They were a no-show yesterday, Cass.”

“Well, I just finished having coffee with the owner and he seems very interested. He’d like to talk privately with you first before we all sit down and hammer out the details. I imagine he has some specific questions about the financials and projections. He’s here now. He needed to take a business call, so I came up ahead of him.”

Kat felt like a bit player in a
Twilight Zone
episode.

The chime sounded in the reception area. Cassie angled back, peeking outside Kat’s door. A big smile spread across her face. She stepped out into the hallway and motioned in the direction of Kat’s office.

“Kat’s here now so when you two are done, we can all sit down and get the details worked out, if you’d like.”

Kat stepped to her desk and set her hot drink down. When she looked up, her legs almost gave out.

Tucker Williams filled her doorway in those same worn jeans and old boots, wearing a white T-shirt under a dark leather jacket. The man she’d had wild, savage sex with just hours earlier. Apparently, she wasn’t going to avoid the walk of shame. However, her initial shock and embarrassment shifted in the blink of an eye to red-hot fury when she read his expression: he wasn’t surprised to see her. Of course, he wasn’t. He’d known all along.

She’d been played. Even worse, she’d allowed it to happen.

The apology, the plea, written on his face and loud in his eyes only made her angrier. She swallowed hard as the full, unforgiving brunt of understanding punched her in the gut, then raced in a hot ball of rage to her lungs. “You son of a bitch!”

“Kat!” Cassie squealed in embarrassment. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Williams. Really. I don’t know what’s—”

“Is that how you normally conduct business, you smug asshole?”

Tucker’s focus dropped to the floor, his jaw clenched.

“My God, Kat! Enough!” Cassie grabbed Tucker’s arm and attempted to pull him out of the line of fire. “We can go to my office. I’m so sorry about this,” she said, shooting Kat an angry, mortified look.

“No, that’s okay. Ms. James and I have some things to work out, that’s all,” he said, his tone contrite.

Kat erupted in mock laughter.

“We don’t have
anything
to work out. It’s all very clear, and I’m not wasting one more second on you. Get out!” She aimed an accusatory finger at him.

He wouldn’t look at her. He wouldn’t move, either.

Kat grabbed a paperweight from her desk and launched it. Cassie screamed and Tucker ducked as the heavy crystal commemorative smashed through the frosted glass panel of the conference room across the hall.

Cassie stood frozen, mimicking Edvard Munch’s “The Scream.” And Tucker, face colored in shame, finally made eye contact with Kat. Oh, he looked pitiful. A mere shadow of the man she’d met yesterday, fucked last night. He couldn’t possibly think she’d buy his act today. Bile burned at the back of her throat. What a lowlife loser.

She stalked over to him and glared with fiery condemnation. “Go to hell, Tucker! And take your money with you.”

Then she stormed out of her office.

****

Kat couldn’t stop shaking, hands trembling as she held them out in front of her. She dared a look in the mirror. She wanted to throw up, wanted a do-over for yesterday, wanted the earth to open up and swallow her whole. The sad truth: she had no one to blame but herself. She turned on the cold tap, splashed her face, and hoped she’d wake from the humiliation of this nightmare.