Nameless (20 page)

“I wanted to finish the discussion we started last night,” McBride ventured as if he had read her thoughts.

“Oh no.” She waved off that idea. “I did all the talking last night and you got off with just listening.”

He already knew too much about her.

“I shouldn’t have made all those cracks about—”

“Don’t you dare,” she snapped. She’d seen that look in his eyes when they had first returned to the hotel. The sympathy. She hated that! “I’m over the past.”

“You’re over Nameless?”

She shuddered inwardly, did all in her power to prevent him from seeing the reaction. “Yes.”

“Then say it.”

This was ridiculous. “Go back in the room, McBride.”

“Say it.”

Fury tightened her lips. “Nameless.” Hot bile rose in her throat. She glared at him. “Are you satisfied now?”

“You’ve had sex since then?”

Was he kidding? It was a damned good thing there weren’t any guests in the rooms on this end of the corridor. Having a balcony put him in a corner room and this wasn’t exactly prime tourist season.

“My sex life is none of your business.” She crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes. The man was unbelievable.

“Just answer the question, Grace. It’s a yes or no response. Simple.”

He was nuts. But one look at his face told her he wasn’t going to shut up until he had his answer. “Okay. Yes. Of course.” She added in a whisper,”I’ve had sex. Lots of times.”

“Lots of times, eh?”

“Go away, McBride.” There was a crazed fan out there kidnapping people to make him look like a hero and he was asking her about her sex life? Talk about a trip into the Twilight Zone … they were there and checking out T-shirts.

“Did you feel it?”

“Okay.” She shot to her feet. “That’s enough.” She paced, mostly in circles, but it seemed the thing to do. Anger sparked, making her want to kick something.

“I’m not talking necessarily about an orgasm, Grace.” He pushed to his feet, propped against the doorframe. “I’m talking about
feeling it
. Here.” He patted the center of his chest. “Or do you disappear during sex the way you must have when Nameless made you … do those things.”

She stopped, pointed a furious look at him. “There’s nothing wrong with me, McBride. I’m fine. I can do my job. I can lead a normal life. I’m not the disappearing girl.”

Her circle expanded, became more of an oval shape. She had to keep moving or risk hitting him.

She had heard all those questions before.
You need more therapy, Vivian. How can you expect to experience true intimacy if you remain in denial
? Each new voice echoing in her brain made her more furious. She hadn’t done anything wrong. She had survived. That was all. Yes, she’d had to do …
things …
she never wanted to think about again. But she was alive!

There were twelve other women lying dead in the ground because of that twisted piece of shit! She had lived to tell about it and that was what counted.

She refused to think about
him
or that time. That part of her life was over. She had a career. Building that career was her focus now. A deeper relationship would come later. She had barely turned twenty-five. There was time, dammit.

McBride waited for his answer. Damn him.

“Go back into the room,” she snapped.

He shook his head. “Not until you tell me the truth.” That husky, rich voice slid over her skin, making her shiver despite the fury lashing through her. “Do you remember the truth? How to really feel? To let go and enjoy the moment? How to savor the pleasure … to allow your partner all the way inside?”

“I suppose you know all about the pleasure and getting all the way inside,” she mocked. He was such a hypocrite! Here he was telling her how she should lead her life and he was hiding behind booze and sex!

“I might be running away from who I used to be, but I know who I am now, Grace. I feel it more than I want to. I don’t always like it, but I’m damned sure not afraid of it.”

She strode up to him, stared at that face with all its too intriguing angles and lines. Peered into those assessing blue eyes. “I’m not afraid, McBride. Remember, I kissed you.”

He licked his lips as if he had just remembered that too. “That’s when I knew you did that little vanishing act. I felt you disappear.”

“You don’t know anything about what I feel!” How dare he be so damned arrogant! “If, as you claim, I disappeared during that kiss it was because my mind wandered. Maybe that was about you, not me.”

He straightened away from the doorframe, put his body close enough to hers that she could feel his heat … close enough that he could have kissed her with the tiniest shift of his head.

“When I kiss you, Grace, you’ll feel me.”

Her body humming with the need to let him prove his point, she retreated a step. “Go back into the room.” She took her seat and aimed her attention straight ahead. One more hour. All she had to do was get through one more hour.

6:00 A.M.
Birmingham International Airport

“We’re inside.” Vivian scanned the line at the ticket counter. “He’s at the counter now,” she told Pratt. “We’ll wait for you at the food court.”

She put her phone away and met McBride as he left the counter. “Pratt’s coming from short-term parking. We’ll meet him in the food court.”

Operating on less than an hour of sleep was going to make for a long day. She had relieved Pratt at two-thirty. At four-thirty they had prepared for the trip to the airport.

Most of that time in between she had either been arguing with McBride or walking off the fury he had ignited with his psychoanalyzing. The part that infuriated her most was that a whole lot of what he had kindled hadn’t been fury.

Her first high-profile case and she couldn’t keep her head screwed on straight.

Maybe she did need more therapy.

As they followed the signs to the food court she tried to recall the last time she’d had sex. Last month? July?

Sad. Really sad.

When you had to work that hard to remember, it couldn’t have been memorable.

But she knew where the fault lay. That McBride had nailed exactly how she
disappeared
made her want to fuck his brains out just to prove him wrong.

She grabbed on to the tiny slither of calm that tried valiantly to recover from her frequent and explosive emotional outbursts. If this was any indication of how she handled pressure, she was in trouble.

Everything about this case was wrong, including his leaving, but some part of her would be relieved when McBride was on that plane headed back to the Keys. He disturbed her … shook up her carefully controlled world. Somehow she was defenseless against him. Unlike with Nameless, when the main crux of the battle had been physical, this was completely emotional.

“How about we sit here?” She indicated a table in sight of the main thoroughfare so Pratt could locate them easily.

“Looks the same as all the rest.” He pulled out a chair but waited for her to settle in before taking his seat.

She considered that he had selected the same pair of distressed jeans he had worn on the trip up here, and the same khaki shirt; it made her wonder if that was symbolic … him going back to the way things were before she intruded in his life.

Probably just the first thing he grabbed when he rolled out of bed.

“Would you like breakfast?” She hated to put him on the plane hungry. “Coffee?”

“Sure.”

One-word answers. He’d certainly had plenty to say a few hours ago.

“So, what’re we eating?” Pratt asked as he sauntered up.

Grace pushed out of her chair. “You guys decide. I’ll be right back.”

She left her purse on the table and walked to the ladies’ room. It wasn’t far. Glancing back, she could still see the table and both men. Front and center, she ordered her gaze. This was not the time for distraction. Besides, what was she worried about? Pratt had the same orders she did. He could handle babysitting McBride for a few minutes.

The airport was fairly deserted this early on Sunday morning so there was no line for a stall. The janitorial staff had apparently just cleaned since the place looked spotless and smelled freshly sanitized.

Vivian took care of business, washed up, and checked her hair. She hadn’t taken time to put it up and now she wished she had. After a quick finger-combing, she headed for the table. She could use a biscuit with egg. And a massive cup of coffee.

For a moment she was certain her eyes had played a trick on her. “Where’s McBride?”

Pratt pointed back the direction from which she had come. “Men’s room. I’m surprised you didn’t pass him.”

“Damn, Pratt. We’re not supposed to let him out of our sight!”

Pratt held up his hands. “I have his cell phone. The man just went to the toilet, Grace. It’s not a big deal.”

But he wasn’t the one who would have to answer to Worth if he was wrong.

She did an about-face and stamped back toward the bathrooms.

“Grace!”

She held a hand up in a stop gesture and kept on going. Jesus. Was everybody around her so incompetent or was she making a mountain out of a molehill? Maybe McBride was right and she didn’t know how to let anyone close … even her coworkers.
Stop it, Vivian
Grace. She wasn’t buying into his anti-Bureau theories.

Back ramrod straight, she strode right into the men’s room. Flashed a fake smile for the gentleman she encountered drying his hands. Staring at her, he wandered out, obviously confused or startled.

She scanned the stalls. No feet. Her anxiety level pumped up a few more degrees. A toilet flushed. There. She marched up to the door on the other side of the expansive restroom where his sneakered feet and jean-clad legs were visible. She banged on it hard enough to rattle the hinges.

“McBride!”

He yanked the door inward, glared at her. “Is the building on fire?”

She blinked. “No.”

“Then what the hell are you doing in the men’s room? It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

That was it. She went toe-to-toe with him, caused him to stagger back a step. “You have pushed me around for the last time.” She poked him in the chest. “I’ve put up with your lewd comments and your inquisitions and I’ve had it!”

“Don’t hold back, Grace,” he murmured, those blue eyes glittering with something like mischief.

And then reality sank in.

She glanced down. That step she had forced McBride back had him straddling the toilet.

The toilet.

Oh hell.

Her horrified gaze met his.

He grinned.

“Now that’s feeling it, Grace.” He reached over her head and pushed the door shut behind her. “You get so lost in the moment, in the passion, that you forget about everything else.”

And then he kissed her.

Not some slow, tender sweet kiss. His fingers dove into her hair, held her head still while his mouth covered hers. He kissed her hard. Invaded her with his tongue. Fire roared through her. Her fingers clenched in his shirt.

She wanted more.

Her arms went around his neck. She wanted to kiss him back the way he was kissing her. Openmouthed … lips bruising lips … tongues battling.

His right hand slid along the length of her throat, reached beneath her jacket and closed over her breast. She groaned. No tiny, feminine sound … a throaty roar. Her hands roved over his chest, felt the contours she had already admired, crinkling the pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket. She wanted to touch all of him! Now!

His hands moved downward, over her bottom, pulled her hips against his pelvis. The needy sounds she made were swallowed up in his kiss. She tugged at his shirt buttons, wiggled her hands beneath the fabric to touch his skin. More! She snaked her arms upward, threaded her fingers into his hair. It felt exactly as she had known it would. Soft, silky.

He worked her skirt up her thighs … lifted her. Her legs instinctively curled around his waist. She threw her head back, arched her hips … God, she wanted him inside her. He kissed his way down her neck. She wanted to tear her blouse off so that he could access her breasts. Sensing her needs, he pulled the vee of her blouse aside and lathed his tongue beneath the lace of her bra.

“Oh … God!” She bucked, bit back a scream. Her cell phone clattered to the tile floor.

He pressed her back against the side wall, used the fingers of one hand to push the damp silk panel covering her out of the way and one finger slid inside. Her muscles clamped around him and he groaned in satisfaction.

“Hot,” he murmured. “Wet.” He slid that finger in and out a couple of times, smiled as if he had found just what he wanted, then he pressed … probed and pressed some more … until he did this thing at just the right spot that sent her over an edge she hadn’t even come close to … in
years
. Or maybe ever.

He put his mouth over hers to muffle the sounds of her orgasm, his lips smiling.

She rode out the incredible climax … but she wanted more. She had to have
him
. Now!

Her heavy lids opened just enough for her to peer into those sexy blue eyes. “No more playing. Do it!”

He kept one hand under her bottom and fished in his pocket with the other. He tucked the unopened condom between his teeth and then, one at a time, braced a stilettoclad foot against the metal wall behind him. Then he reached for his fly. She used her back and feet to maintain her position, as he ripped the condom open with his teeth and fingers and then slid it into place. That intent gaze never left hers, the promise there driving her crazy.

Then he did that thing again, thrust one finger inside and found that spot that sent her instantly into orgasm. This time she bit her lips together to hold back the cries and watched him watching her. Her entire body undulated with the waves of pleasure.

He nudged her with the head of his penis and she lost her breath. One slow, solid inch, then two filled her, teasing as he took his sweet time.

“Feel that?”

“Shut up.” She couldn’t talk … couldn’t think. She could only
feel.