Outsider (18 page)

“It won't hurt,” he bit off. “Come here.”

He kissed her hungrily, his mouth urgent and ardent on her own. His hand caressed her, testing the soft weight of her breasts, the softness of her skin. He pulled his mouth from hers, bent and put his lips over a hard nipple, easing it completely between his lips.

She gasped out loud and arched toward him. The pleasure was maddening, narcotic. She couldn't stop. She didn't want him to stop. Desire seeped into every cell of her taut body as his mouth found her soft belly.

Seconds later, he had her by the hand and he was pulling her along with him to the bedroom. He barely had the presence of mind to close and lock the door on his way to the bed.

“Colby, we…shouldn't,” she faltered as he eased her down on her back and followed her onto the clean sheets.

“I would try to be rational,” he whispered as his mouth began to work its way down her soft, taut body. “But I don't think I have time…Sarina!”

It seemed almost indecent, the way he touched her, the aching hunger of his mouth on her skin. Pleasure built on pleasure as she writhed under his expert touch. It had never been so urgent, so desperate, not even in the first few ecstatic minutes of their wedding night, before he hurt her.

Despite his own aching need, he was slow and tender with her, making sure that she was completely aroused and ready for him before he eased down over her trembling body.

“I won't hurt you,” he whispered at her mouth as he moved into complete intimacy with her. “No matter what it takes. Trust me.”

Her nails bit into his broad shoulders as she felt him teasing, pressing, penetrating softly. He lifted his head and looked into her dark, frightened eyes.

“I wouldn't deliberately hurt you to save my own life,” he whispered tenderly. “I won't take my pleasure at the expense of yours, either. Especially not now.” His eyes closed on a wave of pleasure as he moved higher against her and felt her gasp and pull at him. “You gave me a child,” he bit off, shuddering with pleasure.

The feel of him stretching her intimately was a delight beyond expression. Her short nails bit into his shoulders as she arched her hips toward his, enjoying the contact as it became more and more intimate. In spite of his reassurances, she'd expected some pain. There was none. Only pleasure that fed on itself as his motions, tender and slow, became relentlessly more intimate.

“All right?” he whispered, smiling as he felt her eager response.

“It's…incredible,” she choked, shivering with every slow thrust.

“And we've barely started,” he replied huskily.

Her eyes opened wide. Barely started? The pleasure was already taking her. She was reaching toward something intangible. There was a high place, somewhere above, and she strained to reach it. She saw him, but his taut face hardly registered. She was intent on the deep motions that began to spiral, the tension that grew until she was openly shuddering with every lift and fall of his lean hips. Her mouth opened soundlessly and she moved with him, aggressive now, demanding, as she tried and tried to reach that high level of delight that was surely going to kill her.

“Slowly,” he whispered, his hand staying her thrashing hips. “There's no rush.”

“I'm dying,” she choked, sobbing. “Please…!”

He smiled tenderly. She had no idea what was about to happen. She thought in terms of momentary satisfaction. He was thinking beyond these few seconds to the next few minutes, as he taught her the soft, rocking motion that escalated the pleasure second by throbbing second.

Resting on his elbow, barely aware of the missing hand in his blind passion for her, his hand moved between them into intimacy. He touched her, stroked her, while his hips levered even closer.

She stared up at him incredulously as the soft motion of his fingers shot her right over the edge of sanity into a hot, swirling agony of satisfaction that she sobbed out against his warm, hard mouth.

Her body relaxed and she stared up at him, embarrassed.

He shifted all at once, moved higher on her body, and her sensitized flesh reacted with an even more explosive climax than he'd just given her. She convulsed under his delighted gaze, both hands going to the back of his powerful thighs to hold him to her, to urge him even closer.

He was sweating. He was still weak, and his legs were shivering with the tension and the expenditure of energy. But for the life of him, he couldn't have stopped.

“Please,” she sobbed against his mouth. “Closer…!”

“Risky,” he whispered back, but he wanted to be closer, too. He hesitated, reached for a pillow and pushed it under her hips. The elevation pushed her over the edge again, almost at once. He felt her body accept him, the heat and softness of it enveloping him, embracing him. He couldn't hold it any longer. He drove for his own fulfillment in a blind, taut agony of motion. He felt it take him, whip his body into a tension that felt as if it could break bones. Then, in a blaze of ecstasy, it threw him up into the stars in a maelstrom of fiery delight. He cried out endlessly as his powerful body convulsed over and over again in the cradle of her softness.

She watched him, fascinated. Her own body was languid now with satiety, but she still responded to the fierce motion of his hips. The abrasion brought yet another climax, more powerful and frightening than all the others put together. She sobbed and moaned as the exquisite pulsing went on and on and on.

Finally he collapsed heavily on her damp body, gasping for breath.

She cradled him, blind with fulfillment, alive as she'd never been in her life. The weight of him was a pleasure so deep that she shivered with it. There had been no pain, none at all; only an ecstasy that she'd never dreamed existed.

“Are you all right?” he whispered at her ear.

“Oh…yes,” she choked.

He lifted his head. His hair was damp, like hers, but his face was more relaxed than she'd ever seen it. His eyes were soft and dark, intense with feeling. He couldn't find the right words to express what he wanted to say to her. He bent and traced her mouth tenderly with his lips. He kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her closed eyelids, with breathless affection.

She shivered delicately. Every time he moved, the pleasure bit into her all over again. She began to shift under him, to bring it back.

He looked down at her quietly and caught her hip in a steely clasp. “No,” he whispered. “It will make you very sore. We have to stop.”

She colored and stilled. “Sorry…”

“I'd keep it up for hours, if I could do it without hurting you,” he bit off, his dark eyes smoldering with passion. “I love watching you. But it will be painful later.”

She drew in a long breath. “I'm…new to this.”

“I know.” He said it with heartfelt feeling. He kissed her eyelids shut. His own body shivered faintly as he began to withdraw from her, very carefully. He rolled onto his back and shuddered. “Just an hour ago I thought I was disabled.”

She lifted herself onto an elbow and looked at his lean, smiling face. “Excuse me?”

His eyes opened, quiet and soft. “I haven't made love since I lost part of my arm,” he explained simply. “I was afraid to. I didn't know if I could, without the prosthesis.”

“That was a long time ago,” she said.

“Yes.” There were oceans of meaning in the word. He lifted an eyebrow. “You and I fit together very nicely now.”

She colored. “I noticed.”

He stretched aching muscles and shivered. “I'm not as in shape yet as I'd like to be,” he confessed.

Her fingers went to his hard mouth. She traced it tenderly. “I hope this doesn't set you back,” she worried.

“I wouldn't care if it killed me,” he mused. “It would have been worth it.”

She searched his eyes curiously. “It wasn't like this before.”

“You were afraid of it, before,” he replied quietly. “And a virgin.” He winced. “And I wasn't cold sober. It still hurts me, to know how much damage I did to you.”

“It was a painful time for both of us,” she replied. Her fingers traced his arm down to the missing forearm. “Is it, well, normal, to feel so much…?”

“Normal, but not usual,” he told her. His face was solemn. “I've never felt anything this powerful. Not with anyone.”

That made her feel better. She smiled softly.

He shifted onto his side and pulled her against him, drawing the sheet over them with a long sigh. “We could both use some sleep,” he said softly, reaching for the light.

“But…”

“But we're not dressed and it isn't bedtime. I know.” He chuckled, folding her closer. “Humor me, I'm sick.”

She slid one long leg against his and sighed.

“Quit that,” he murmured sleepily, “I'm spent.”

She smiled against his shoulder and closed her eyes. In seconds, she was asleep.

 

A
FTER THEY WERE DRESSED
and having soup at his kitchen table, she felt guilty and ashamed for what had happened. Despite the fact that they'd been married once, they weren't now. Her conscience hurt.

He noticed her downcast expression and was uncertain of the reason for it, until he remembered how spontaneous their bout of passion had been. He grimaced.

She saw it, and frowned. “What's wrong?” she asked.

“I was careless.”

She hadn't realized it until he spoke. Her lips parted on a soft breath. “Oh, dear.”

He reached across the table and caught her hand in his. “We'll deal with whatever happens,” he said firmly. “Don't borrow worries. Okay?”

She nodded slowly.

He searched her dark, quiet eyes. “We're only now learning each other, in all the ways that count,” he continued. “We have to learn to trust each other. No secrets. Ever.”

Secrets.
She had a humdinger of a secret, and it was going to change his entire perception of her. She wanted to tell him, but she wasn't allowed to. Besides that, she was hesitant to shatter the new and delightful intimacy that had happened between them so unexpectedly.

She didn't know that he was silently thrashing himself for his lack of honesty about his past.

“No secrets,” she agreed after a minute, and smiled at him.

He smiled back. He had to tell her, he thought. And soon, while there was still time. He hoped she could live with his past.

 

S
HE WENT HOME
that night, reluctantly, but she'd left Bernadette alone too long already, and Colby was more than capable of taking care of himself. She found herself suddenly caught up in a whirl of activity at work, with Rodrigo watching her like a hawk and obviously disapproving of the time she'd spent with Colby while he was recuperating.

“He's going to get suspicious,” Rodrigo warned her.

“Then let him,” she replied more sharply than she meant to. “The job isn't my life, Rodrigo.”

“It was,” he pointed out.

“He's Bernadette's father,” she said quietly. “I can't shut him out.”

“Can't you?” His dark eyes narrowed. “And what do you expect he's going to say when he finds out what you really do for a living, Sarina?” he asked.

S
ARINA FELT THE BLOOD
rush into her face. It wasn't a question she wanted to face. Colby saw her as a complacent filing clerk with a low-stress job, a shadow of the woman she'd become in the years they'd been apart. She was suddenly frightened. She should have told him, despite the fact that she'd been sworn to secrecy. She should have told him! It would be worse because she hadn't trusted him. On top of that, he wasn't going to like the risks she took. He'd think she should have given it up for Bernadette. Perhaps she should have.

Rodrigo saw the torment in her face and felt guilty for what he'd said to her. He took a long breath. She was falling in love with her ex-husband all over again, and he was caught in the middle, with no way to stop it. Well, he might be able to stop it by telling her what Colby had been in the past. But he hadn't the right to increase her torment.

“Soon, you'll be able to level with him,” he said tautly.

She nodded. She looked up at him sadly. “I'm sorry,” she said quietly. “I know that you had…hopes.”

He shrugged and managed a smile. “I'll still be around somewhere, if you need me.”

“If only I could have been honest with him from the beginning,” she said after a minute. “I don't know how he's going to take it.”

He didn't, either, and he couldn't quite relinquish some hope for himself. “For now, we have other things to think about. We've put in too much time on this case to risk blowing it now.”

Her eyes were troubled. “I know.”

He got to his feet. “Suppose we go down to the firing range when we get off from work? This is not a good time to get rusty.”

“Good point. I'll ask Jennifer to let Bernadette visit Nikki for an hour or two.”

“See you later, then.”

She nodded, only half hearing him.

 

T
HEY SPENT AN HOUR
on the firing range, during which she outscored Rodrigo and gave him a mischievous grin.

“Rub it in,” he muttered.

She unloaded her automatic. “Despite everything, I've really enjoyed working with you.”

“Same here.”

“I wish…”

He held up a hand, smiling wistfully. “You can't help what you feel,” he told her.

“I suppose not.” She touched his arm gently. “Thanks for being such a good friend.”

He grinned. “I'll always be that, no matter what.”

 

C
OLBY HADN
'
T COME
to work all day, and when she went to pick up Bernadette from Hunter's home, neither of them had heard from him. Sarina almost phoned him, but she was uneasy after their feverish intimacy. She was shy, uncertain of her welcome. Perhaps he had regrets, and that's why he hadn't gotten in touch with her. It was disturbing, that intimacy had caused more problems than it solved, that it should have put such distance between them. Maybe he'd had a relapse and didn't want her to know. He might be in bed and unable to get up.

She did finally pick up the phone and dial his number, but the answering machine picked up and she was too uncertain of herself to leave a message. She tried Hunter, but he wasn't available, either. She didn't call back because Bernadette was giving her odd looks. She didn't want to worry the child.

But her own worry wouldn't go away. She baked two loaves of banana bread and put one into a plastic container. She tucked it into her car under a magazine, so that Bernadette wouldn't ask about it. She'd really expected Colby to phone, at least. She'd called Hunter this morning, and she knew now that Colby was all right and that he was planning to return to work on Monday, but that didn't take the place of a conversation with him.

It was Saturday, and after dropping Bernadette off to spend the day and night with Nikki Hunter, she stopped by Colby's apartment.

Hesitantly she knocked at the door, practicing her excuse for coming, just in case he wasn't glad to see her. She clutched the plastic container of banana nut bread tightly in her hands. She was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, her hair left long because she knew he liked it that way. She hoped he wasn't going to be angry because she'd shown up without an invitation.

But when the door opened, she got the single worst shock of her recent life. A pretty young blond woman wearing a short bathrobe, and nothing else, was framed in the doorway.

“Yes?” she asked with a pleasant smile.

Sarina couldn't manage a single word. So this was why Colby hadn't contacted her. This was why he'd kept to himself lately. And he'd gone from her, to this woman…just as he'd gone from her to Maureen, years ago. Why, why, had she expected him to change? Unfaithful men never changed. Why didn't she know that?!

The scarlet blush and flashing dark eyes made the other woman hesitate. But before she could speak, Colby came into the room, his hair still wet from the shower, his lean hips wrapped in a blue bath towel.

“Cecily, I meant to tell you…” He stopped with a comical look in his eyes. His jaw dropped. A ruddy color came up under the skin of his high cheekbones as he took in the tableau. Cecily and himself having obviously just come from a shower, apparently alone, and a shattered Sarina standing in the doorway. “Sarina…?” he began slowly.

She swallowed hard and regained some of her composure. “Bernadette and I made banana nut bread. She asked me to stop by and give you a loaf of it,” she lied through her teeth, forcing a smile. “You look…much better.”

He was lost for words. He couldn't even speak. He knew what she was thinking, and also that his chances of making her listen at the moment were about as good as his chances of winning the lottery. She wasn't likely to doubt the evidence of her eyes.

Sarina thrust the plastic container into Cecily's hands. “You can share it,” she said roughly, and turned. She almost ran for the safety of her car, leaving a shell-shocked Colby staring after her with tormented eyes.

Cecily and Colby had been friends for a long time. She knew he was very upset and not likely to talk to her about the woman who'd just left. She drew in a slow breath, wishing that her husband, Tate, would hurry out of the shower.

“Who was she?” she asked.

He didn't look at her. “My ex-wife,” he said tightly.

Cecily stared at him blankly. “Your what?” she exclaimed.

“I was married twice,” he said dully. “Sarina was my first wife.” He swallowed hard. “We have…a little girl, Bernadette…she's seven.”

Cecily pulled out a chair and sat down. Hard.

Tate Winthrop came into the room rubbing his long hair with a towel. He was Lakota Sioux, and looked far more Native American than Colby. His dark eyes went from his wife to his best friend.

“What's going on?” he asked.

“Colby's ex-wife just showed up and saw us like this,” Cecily said, moving to her husband's side.

“Maureen? She can't be here, she and her husband are on their way to Nassau. That's why she asked me to give you those papers she found,” Tate said obliviously.

“Not Maureen,” Colby said.

“He has two ex-wives, apparently,” Cecily told Tate, tongue-in-cheek. “This one's blond and they have a daughter.”

Tate leaned against the counter. “A daughter? Maybe I have a fever,” he said, touching his forehead.

“Maybe you do,” Cecily said blithely, “but he's still got a daughter. Did you know you had a daughter?” she asked Colby.

He shook his head. “Not until a few days ago,” he confessed. “It's been a shock.”

“Well, go after her, Colby,” Cecily insisted. “You can take a photograph of the three of us and explain things to her!”

His face closed up. “Not until she has time to cool down,” he said. “She won't listen.”

“Make her listen,” Tate interjected.

Colby didn't soften. “That's easier said than done.” He hesitated. “I'll give her a few minutes to get home and think things through,” he decided. “Then, I'll phone her.” He didn't add that he'd be lucky if she didn't slam the phone down the second she heard his voice. Cecily didn't know it, but Sarina would be remembering that he threw her over for Maureen. She'd see this as history repeating itself, especially since he hadn't been in touch with her since their passionate night together. She'd be hurt, and afraid, and she'd blame him for all the pain she'd endured in the past, and today. He was already losing her, and they'd barely begun again. He'd compounded the problem by being too uncertain of his footing, and the delicate new feeling between them, to get in touch with her, too ashamed of his blatant seduction of her. He'd meant to call her today and see how things stood. But it was too late. The look on her face told him so. She'd never believe him about Cecily.

Cecily watched him covertly, seeing his reluctance to phone the woman. She wanted to tell him that he was making a huge mistake by putting it off even just a few minutes, but he'd already turned away.

Tate exchanged a speaking glance with her. Colby had a knack for self-destruction. He'd stopped drinking, but he was still on a cold path.

 

C
OLBY DID TRY PHONING
Sarina just a few minutes later. As he'd expected, she hung up. He tried her cell phone, but apparently it wasn't turned on. He sent a text message, anyway, hoping it would get through eventually.

He was hesitant to go after her because of their past. He didn't want to admit that to his two best friends, who were leaving early the next morning. He decided that his best bet was just to go to her apartment and make her listen to him. He was still wobbly, but he was certainly strong enough to put his foot in her door and refuse to leave. Surely she'd remember how close they'd been, how much he cared for her. Even if he hadn't said it, she must know it. Everything would be all right.

Except that fate stepped in at the worst time, it might have been. Just after lunch, he had an urgent call from Hunter.

“Are you well enough for a standoff?” he asked his friend.

Colby wasn't, really, but he'd been out of action too long already. “Sure. What's up?” he asked.

“We've had a tip that there's something going down at the warehouse tonight. We've got a joint drug task force set to spring the trap. I'd like to have you along.”

“I'll be there,” he said at once. “Where, and when?”

He listened, assured Hunter that he'd be along, and hung up.

“I'll have to go,” he told his friends. “This is a long-standing problem. We're hoping to have a solution tonight.”

“Don't get shot before you make it up with Sarina,” Cecily said firmly. She drew a photograph out of her purse and handed it to him. It was of the three of them with Tate and Cecily's little boy. “Show her this. It will explain a lot.”

“Okay,” he said, sliding it into his own wallet. “Thanks.”

She smiled at him. “It will work out, Colby. I'm sure it will,” she added.

He chuckled, hugging her and then Tate. “Well, at least I've still got hopes of it,” he said. He stood back and studied them both. “I didn't realize how much a child could mean until I had one of my own. I wish you could meet Bernadette,” he added sadly.

“Maybe next time,” Tate said gently. “We'll be back this way again.”

“It's a deal. Now,” Colby said, moving a little less strongly than usual, “I'd better get cracking.”

“There's just one more thing,” Tate said, following the other man into his bedroom. “I spoke with Maureen before we left D.C.”

Colby's eyes flashed. “That's all over.”

“I know that,” Tate said curtly. “But there are things you have to know. We can talk while you dress, can't we?”

Colby drew in an irritated breath, but he nodded.

Tate closed the door. He put a thick envelope down on the dresser. “She gave me that.”

Frowning, Colby opened it and found…

“The annulment papers?” he exclaimed. He looked through the pages. “Sarina signed them. But…but I never did!” he added, disbelieving when he saw the blank spaces where his signature should have been. “I thought her father had managed to do it without any help from me. I must have been out of the country when these came. I never knew about them! Maureen said she signed them for me. She lied!”

“Didn't you wonder why it was so easy for you to marry Maureen?” Tate asked, very carefully. “You didn't even have to produce identification, did you? And there was no marriage license.”

Colby felt a coldness in the pit of his stomach. “Spill it!” he said impatiently.

“Maureen confessed that you and she were never legally married,” he said heavily. “There was a clause in her first husband's will that kept her from inheriting a penny of his estate if she remarried.”

“She couldn't have gotten a penny of insurance because he killed himself,” he said roughly. “Sarina told me.”