Playing His Dangerous Game (11 page)

She wasn’t ready to face him yet.

She was too scared.

Scared …?

The word made Shara stop dead in her tracks halfway down the stairs.

She wasn’t scared.

Was she …?

The breath caught in her throat and her heart did a strange
kerthump
in her chest. The question cut through the web of chaotic thoughts that had besieged her since she’d taken refuge in her room.

Yes, she was scared.

But she wasn’t scared of Royce.

She was scared of herself.

Afraid of how she’d react.

Because there was one fact she couldn’t escape.

Regardless of why she shouldn’t get involved with Royce, she already was—whether she wanted to be or not.

Royce was lying on his back with his arms folded beneath his head, staring at the ceiling, when he heard the creak of a floorboard. Almost simultaneously his laptop began beeping, indicating movement in the house.

Either they had an intruder, or Shara was up and about.

Given that none of the downstairs motion detectors had gone off, Royce could only presume it was Shara.

Which left him with a decision to make.

Stay where he was … or get up and follow her.

Royce knew exactly what he should do.

Stay in bed.

It wasn’t as if Shara could go anywhere without him knowing about it. The household security system would alert him if she tried to leave the house—although where she would go in the middle of the night he didn’t have a clue.

So he should stay in bed where it was safe.

Safe …?

The word made Royce jack-knife into a sitting position, his body growing rigid, muscles locking.

Safety played a large part in his life. The security business could be rough, and it could be tough. He’d been in dangerous
situations, life-threatening situations, more than once and no doubt would be again.

But did he really see Shara as dangerous?

Beautiful? Yes.

Sexy? Yes.

But
dangerous
…?

The breath locked tight in his lungs, and his heart did a massive leap in his chest as the answer seared into his brain.

Yes, Shara was dangerous.

She was getting under his skin.

Making him think things he didn’t want to think.

Making him
do
things he didn’t want to do.

Like making love to her in the middle of her father’s Aubusson rug.

Like making him turn over Taylor Zane’s case to Travis so that he could stay and protect her.

Like making him follow her in the middle of the night when he should really stay in bed.

Because, whether it made sense or not, that was exactly what he was going to do.

He couldn’t explain it. He didn’t even begin to try.

He simply dragged in a breath, swung his legs over the edge of the bed and rose to his feet.

Then, pulling on a pair of worn denims, he went after her.

A sound in the doorway made Shara jump ten feet in the air. Her heart pounded, her hand going to the base of her throat.

She looked towards the source of the sound—and froze.

Royce was lounging in the doorway, watching her.

Her heart stopped and then kick-started again. Her mouth was parchment-dry. A slow burn started deep in her belly.

He looked absolutely mouthwateringly gorgeous. Like a sexy advertisement for denim jeans.

Because that was all he was wearing.

His jeans had obviously been slung on in a hurry. They
sat low on his hips, the zip only half done up and the button hanging open.

His chest was broad and deep, the skin smooth and golden-brown. Her eyes drifted lower to the rippling display of muscle on his belly before dropping lower still, to the tantalisingly undone button and the zipper just beneath.

A deep shuddering breath escaped her constricted throat as her eyes travelled back upwards.

His hair was tousled and the shadow of a beard was beginning to darken his strong, square jaw.

Her eyes met his.

Desire sizzled along her nerve-endings.

He was looking at her as if …

As if …

As if he wanted to strip her naked and take her where she was standing!

The knife she was holding clattered to the benchtop. ‘Don’t sneak up on me like that,’ she said, dragging her eyes away from him.

‘I didn’t sneak. I walked.’ He levered himself away from the doorjamb and walked further into the room.

Shara couldn’t look away, her eyes captured by the ripple of his muscles as he walked.

‘You obviously didn’t hear me.’

Shara wasn’t surprised. She’d been deep in thought. Not about the sandwich she was making. Not about whether to have mustard or pickle.

No, she’d been thinking about that taboo subject.

Royce.

And then suddenly he was here, as if her thinking about him had somehow conjured him up.

Swallowing, she picked up the knife and gestured to the sandwich. ‘Are you hungry?’

‘Yes.’

Her eyes shot to his face. There was something in the way
he’d said that one word and something in the glitter of his eyes that suggested they weren’t just talking about food.

Her already frantically beating heart took off at a gallop. She licked her lips. ‘I meant do you want a sandwich?’

‘No.’

His monosyllabic answer sent hormones hurtling through her system, setting off one vibration after another against her nerve-endings.

‘Then what
do
you want?’

The words burst out of her mouth at the exact same time the thought popped into her head. She hadn’t meant to say them out loud. She would have stopped them if she could, but it was too late.

It was still a good question.

Because she couldn’t shake the feeling that their conversation was operating on two levels.

Royce stared at her without speaking. His eyes were still glittering, and the angles and planes of his face seemed to be standing out more sharply.

Shara swallowed. And swallowed again.

She dropped the knife for a second time and wrapped her arms around herself. ‘I mean why are you here?’

There was any number of answers Royce could give to that question.

He was hungry. Or he couldn’t sleep. Or he’d come downstairs for a book.

But Shara hoped it was none of those things.

Rightly or wrongly, she hoped that he’d heard her come downstairs and had followed her.

It was a damned good question. In fact both of them were.

It wasn’t the first time Shara had put him on the spot. She seemed to be making quite a habit out of it.

And each time the questions made the truth jump up and smack him in the face.

Because, if only to himself, he had to answer them honestly.

Question: What do you want?

Answer: You.

Question: Why are you here?

Answer: You.

That was why he’d got out of bed and followed her.

That was why he was standing here like a dumb jerk, with his insides so twisted in knots he could hardly think straight.

Royce wasn’t sure when he’d decided he was going to make love to her again.

Had it been a split-second decision made when he’d heard the creaking floorboard? Or had he made it when he’d walked into the room and seen Shara standing there looking so beautiful?

Or was it the fact that
she
was asking the difficult questions while he was hiding from the truth?

And he
was
hiding from the truth.

Because the truth was that he wanted her.

‘This is why I’m here,’ he said, and reached across the distance separating them and hauled her into his arms.

Shara leapt into the kiss with a hunger that left her shaking inside.

How could she want Royce so much?

So much that she
ached
for him?

She didn’t know and didn’t care.

By the time Royce lifted his head they were both breathing heavily.

They stared at each other, dark eyes locked with blue. They didn’t talk. They barely seemed to be breathing. As if the slightest movement might break the spell that bound them together.

Neither did they touch each other—unless you counted the hard points of her breasts whispering feather-like against his sleekly muscled chest through the thin fabric of her nightgown and robe.

The look in his eyes was incredible. So hot that it created a fire inside of her.

Royce ran a finger down her cheek to the corner of her mouth, which was tingling from his kisses. ‘That’s why I followed you. I want to make love to you again.’

Her breath hitched. ‘What about not mixing business with pleasure?’

Royce shrugged. ‘I’m the boss. If anyone can bend the rules it’s me. You have to decide whether this is what you want or not.’

Shara dragged in a deep breath. And then another.

Her eyes landed on his mouth and a quiver of longing ran through her.

The cowardly part of her wished that Royce had just kept right on kissing her. It would have been easier if he’d swept her away into a maelstrom of passion.

But his words wouldn’t let her do that.

They confronted her.

Forced her to make a choice.

It should be an easy one.

Step back. Say no. Put an end to all this nonsense.

But somehow she just couldn’t do it.

Couldn’t do it because she didn’t
want
to do it.

What she wanted was Royce.

The realisation made the air lock tight in her lungs.

It was no use pretending any more.

No use trying to ignore what was impossible to ignore.

She wanted the guy.

She wanted the guy more than she’d ever wanted Steve.

More than she’d ever dreamed was possible.

Her heart turned over as she lifted her eyes to his. ‘I want you.’

A flash of triumph crossed his face. Shara didn’t care. All it proved was that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

‘Are you sure?’ he asked.

Shara nodded. ‘I’m sure.’

And, strangely, given her record for making poor decisions, she
was
sure.

Even before she’d finished speaking Royce had swept her up against him, his mouth crashing down on hers.

With their mouths still fused Royce pushed her robe off her shoulders. It dropped unnoticed to the floor.

His hands immediately went to her nightdress, which he tugged up to her waist, then over the obstacle of her breasts. Their mouths disconnected only long enough for him to reef it over her head and toss it over his shoulder.

Shara writhed against him as his hands cupped her breasts.

Her fingers went to the zipper of his jeans. As she pulled it the rest of the way down her fingers brushed against his straining erection. His body shook and shuddered.

His hands made long sweeping movements over her body. Skimming some parts and lingering in others. When his fingers probed the moistness between her silken thighs she cried out loud, her nails clawing at his shoulders.

He was watching her with such a molten look in his eyes that her knees buckled. She would have fallen if he hadn’t acted quickly. He caught her with one strong arm. The other made a sweeping motion across the kitchen bench.

Once he’d cleared a space he lifted her on to the edge of the bench and moved between her spread thighs.

‘Please,’ she begged. ‘I want you.’

She hooked her legs around his hips and urged him towards her, needing him to hurry.

And then he was inside her, filling her with silken heat,
and she shuddered, clenching her muscles against the hard fullness of him.

‘Look at me,’ Royce commanded softly.

Shara opened heavy lids and locked her gaze with his. She couldn’t look away as he started to move inside her, setting up a primitive rhythm she was powerless to deny.

And still they looked at each other. As inner tension built to an exquisite crescendo their eyes clung to each other as surely as their bodies did.

There was no more thought, just feeling. Their lovemaking was hard and fast, the sheer force of their passion cocooning them in a world of pure sensation. So intensely did Shara feel each stroke inside her body that it was exquisite torture. Torture she wanted to end, and at the same time wanted to continue for ever.

When the final pleasure crashed upon them in waves she cried out. From the sound of his own cry Royce found his own climax seconds later.

Shara collapsed against him. Royce closed his arms around her and buried his face in the curve of her neck. They stayed that way, panting, for several long moments.

Finally Royce lifted his head, a rueful smile lifting the corners of his mouth. ‘First the lounge room and now the kitchen. Do you think we’re ever going to make it to a bed?’

Shara burst out laughing, a blush heating her cheeks. Then she stroked her hands down over the hard planes of his back. ‘I sure hope so. Why don’t we go and find one now?’

S
HARA
woke slowly, stretching her arms and legs. When she felt a warm, hard body behind her, she froze.

Memories of the night before flooded through her like a series of still photographs.

Royce standing in the kitchen doorway, wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung denim jeans.

Royce staring deep into her eyes and saying, ‘This is why I’m here,’ just before pulling her into his arms and kissing her.

She rolled on to her side and found Royce leaning up on one elbow, staring down at her. His hair was mussed, a sexy stubble darkening his jaw.

‘Good morning,’ he said, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

‘Good morning,’ she said, trying to smile back but not quite managing it.

He obviously sensed that she wasn’t entirely comfortable with the situation, because he reached out and stroked a hand down her hair. ‘Any regrets?’

She thought about that for a moment. ‘Regret is the wrong word.’

‘Then what is the right word?’

She searched her mind, trying to put a label on what she was feeling. ‘I’m not sure. Concerned. Uncertain. Anxious.’

They were both talking quietly. Shara wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as if anyone could overhear them. But somehow their hushed tones seemed appropriate.

Royce was no longer smiling, his chocolate brown eyes serious. ‘Because of Brady?

‘Partly.’ Suddenly lying facing Royce no longer seemed right. She shuffled up on to the pillow, clutching the sheet to her breast, and stared straight ahead.

Royce pushed himself into a sitting position and swivelled to face her. ‘Tell me what you’re thinking.’

Shara pleated the sheet with her fingers, a knot in her stomach and a lump in her throat. ‘I don’t know how to explain it. All I know is that whatever else relationships are all about they are also about the balance of power. Women usually end up on the losing end of that equation.’

‘Not always.’

She shrugged, staring at her fingers as they worked the cotton fabric into a concertina and then smoothed it back out again. ‘Perhaps. But in my experience they are.’ She turned and gave Royce a fierce look. ‘I’m
never
going to hand power over to a man again. I’m
never
going to lose sight of myself again.’

Royce didn’t rush to answer her. Finally he said softly, ‘I’m not Brady. I’m not even remotely like Brady.’

‘No, you’re not. But you’re a strong man. I’m not talking about physically. I’m talking about mentally. You’re determined and stubborn and you like getting your own way.’

‘I—’

She held up a hand. ‘Don’t deny it. You told me so yourself. You said that you’d handle this situation
your
way. That’s the only way you do business. You have to have full control.’

He inclined his head. ‘And I won’t apologise for it. When it comes to the job—particularly when someone’s safety’s involved—it won’t work any other way. I’m an expert. I’m
trained in these situations. You’re not. But that’s the job. Outside of it—’

‘Outside of it, what? You’re different?’

‘Yes, I
am
different. My parents brought me up to respect women. Their relationship is very much a partnership. In their marriage the balance of power you mentioned is well and truly equal. My mother wouldn’t have it any other way.’ He smiled. ‘You’d like my mother. She is one of the most generous, warm-hearted people I know. But she’s also one of the strongest.’

Shara wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. ‘I only have your word for that.’

‘Yes, you do. Just as you only have my word for it that I will respect you while we’re together and treat you as an equal.’

That was all he said.

He didn’t try to persuade her.

Didn’t try to sway her opinion in any way.

He just stared at her unwaveringly.

Shara stared into his chocolate-brown eyes.

She thought back over the last week or so.

She’d learned a lot about him in that relatively short period of time. But now, looking back, one thing struck her more deeply than anything else.

She’d recognised some time ago that Royce was different from the other men in her life, but it had only just dawned on her
how
different he was.

Royce was the first man—the
only
man—who had sought to empower her rather than dominate her.

It was as simple and yet as profound as that.

The knowledge rippled through her like a wave.

Royce had invested time and effort to teach her karate. To give her the skills and the confidence to fight back in a situation that until now had made her feel cowed and powerless.

He’d also encouraged her, supported her and listened to her.

‘I believe you,’ she said slowly.

‘Good.’ Royce drew her into his arms and brushed her mouth with his in a kiss so tender it made her want to weep. ‘Let’s just take one day at a time.’

‘Yes,’ she breathed, feeding her hands into the hair on either side of his head. ‘Just one day at a time.’

‘How did you break your nose?’

Royce rubbed the bump and laughed. ‘Don’t tell me you’re still harking back to the movie version of what I do? I can assure you that I’m no James Bond.’

He was wrong about that.

He was very much like James Bond.

He was just as good-looking and he had the same kind of head-turning charisma. He was charming and capable and efficient, not to mention suave and sophisticated.

Had she mentioned good-looking?

Yes, she was sure she had.

He also possessed an I’m-sure-of-my-place-in-the-world and I-can-get-out-of-any-situation kind of confidence.

‘So, how
did
you break your nose?’ she asked again, determined not to let him put her off.

He laughed. ‘I hate to disappoint you, Shara, but I broke my nose falling out of a tree when I was eight years old.’

‘Oh.’ She couldn’t hide her disappointment.

He laughed again.

‘You must have some interesting stories, though.’ Shara refused to be thwarted. She found what he did for a living fascinating. ‘What’s the most bizarre case you’ve ever worked on?’

Royce rubbed the side of his jaw thoughtfully. Then his eyes lit up. ‘That would have to be Zeus.’

If she remembered her history correctly, then Zeus was the king of all the other gods and the ruler of Mount Olympus. She
was imagining a nasty crime boss similar to the Godfather when she prompted, ‘Zeus?’

He nodded. ‘Yes—Zeus the Chihuahua.’

Shara sputtered. ‘A Chihuahua? You’re pulling my leg!’

Royce shook his head, then made the sign of the cross. ‘Cross my heart and hope to die. His owner, Mrs Pemberton, lives in New York. She was going on a Caribbean cruise with someone who was allergic to dogs. She hired me to doggy-guard Zeus while she was away.’

Shara searched his face. ‘You’re having me on?’

Royce shook his head. ‘No—and get this: Zeus came complete with a dog collar made from a small fortune in diamonds. I never could figure out whether it was the dog she was worried about or the stones.’

‘You’re making this up. You have to be.’

‘I’m afraid not. The lady has more money than sense. And damn but that dog is ugly.’

Shara laughed, as she was sure he’d intended.

She laughed a lot around Royce—and it felt good.

‘So, tell me, what does the A stand for?’ Shara asked.

Royce shook his head even as he gave a rueful laugh. ‘Don’t you ever give up?’ he asked, referring to the fact that every day for the last week she’d asked the very same question.

‘Nope,’ she said, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

Daringly, she slid her hand under the sheet until her fingers closed around him, immediately feeling him swell beneath her touch.

He moaned and closed his eyes, his back arching ever so slightly.

‘Are you sure you don’t want to tell me?’ she drawled, moving her hand slowly up and down.

‘You witch,’ he accused, swiftly rolling over and capturing
her hand between their bodies. ‘You shouldn’t have done that!’

Shara let a small smile play about her mouth. ‘I shouldn’t?’ she asked innocently.

Shaking his head, Royce laughed. ‘No, you shouldn’t. You won’t get an answer now. I have other things on my mind.’

With a small tug under the sheets she prompted, ‘
Mind?
I thought it was another part of your anatomy that was paying attention.’

Shara loved the freedom she felt to touch Royce and tease him the way he did her. Loved the way his body responded so quickly every time she touched him, too.

With his chocolate-coloured eyes sinfully locked on her breasts, Royce gave a wicked grin. ‘Oh, there’s more than one part of my anatomy that’s engaged at the moment. There are my eyes, which are absolutely captivated by your beautiful breasts.’

His hands lifted and palmed the weighty globes. Her skin leapt to his touch, her breasts peaking into tight nubs.

‘And then of course there’s my hands,’ he muttered raggedly, dark eyes fixed on the way his hands were playing with her rock-hard nipples. ‘They’re very busy at the moment.’

The quicksilver flash of desire slid over every nerve-ending as she pressed her aching breasts into his hands.

‘And you’re wrong.’ His voice was getting huskier by the minute. ‘My mind is very much occupied. At the moment, it’s busy thinking about what you look like when I enter you. The way your eyes widen at first and then close for a minute. And when they open again they’re not a sparkling blue any more. They’re a deep, dark purple.’

An inarticulate sound escaped her strangled throat. The combination of stroking hands and the tantalising picture his words evoked were turning her on so much she was shaking with it.

As if realising she had a desperate need to be kissed, Royce feathered the lightest of kisses across her mouth.

‘No,’ Shara protested as he moved away, lifting her arms up around his neck, trying to tug his head back down to hers. She wanted him to kiss her properly, to take her mouth in that hungry and possessive way he had.

She
needed
him to kiss her that way.

But he was stronger than she was, and he obviously had something else in mind, because his head dipped and he trailed a string of feather-light kisses down her throat and into the valley between her breasts.

Shara quivered under his delicate touch. But she needed more.

‘Royce, please …’

Royce felt his body clench spasmodically as he heard Shara’s moaned plea.

He looked into her face, seeing the wanting stamped there. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes dilating. If he could capture on film or on canvass what she looked like when he made love to her he would. It wouldn’t be a picture for public consumption. It would be for his eyes alone. He didn’t want anyone else to know what she looked like when he pleasured her.

‘Please what?’ he asked, placing another delicate kiss on the slope of one breast.

An inarticulate sound escaped her throat.

‘This?’ he asked softly, as he lowered his head and flicked at one rose-pink nipple with the tip of his tongue.

‘Yes,’ she gasped, grabbing his head and pulling him back down to her.

His body clenched again—even harder.

The same line from that old tune popped into his head again.

There’s a fine line between pleasure and pain.

Well, Royce was pretty damned sure he’d just crossed it.

With a groan he took one nipple fully into his mouth. As he did so, he trailed his fingers gently over the swell of her tummy.

She quivered.

Her response gave him a heady rush of pleasure. Never had giving a woman pleasure meant so much to him. Nor had he received so much in return.

She did things to him no other woman had managed to do.

He dipped a finger into her belly button as he explored the smooth, soft skin of her stomach. Slowly he trailed his fingers down until they slipped between her thighs. He just let his hand rest there. Temptingly. Tauntingly. Enough to make her arch her pelvis up towards his waiting hand.

‘You’re so hot,’ he whispered against her breast. Delicately, he probed her moistness with his fingers, moaning out loud when he felt how wet and ready she was for him. His body jerked as he was struck by a wave of such powerful desire he couldn’t breathe.

As if remembering the prize she still held captured in her hand, Shara started to move against him. Rapidly losing what little control he had left, Royce rolled her under him.

Her legs spread invitingly.

Royce lifted his head to watch her reaction as he entered her. At first her eyes widened slightly as she felt his fullness within her. Then her lids fluttered closed with a look of sheer bliss crossing her face. And then they opened again and he was drowning in deep, dusky, midnight purple.

That look alone fired a spark through him. He began to move. Deep, powerful thrusts. Her face tightened as he increased the tempo.

And then she was there.

She threw her head back, her hair a dark splash of colour against the pillow. Her mouth opened, her teeth biting delicately at her lower lip before she cried out.

And then his mind went blank as he too slipped over the edge into a spiral of sensation that racked his whole body.

‘I still want to know what the A stands for,’ Shara said a moment later in a wearily satisfied voice.

Royce laughed. ‘Too bad. Now, you witch, unless you want me to have my wicked way with you again, I would suggest you get that gorgeous body out of bed.’

Shara looked as though she was seriously considering staying.

‘Oh, no, you don’t,’ Royce said, wagging a finger in the air. ‘We’ve barely been out of this bed all week.’

Shara pouted. ‘Don’t tell me you’re getting tired of me already?’

He dropped a hard kiss on her pouting mouth. ‘Not by a long shot.’

As he got out of bed Royce was struck by the notion that it would be a long,
long
time before he tired of her.

‘Tell me something?’ Shara asked.

They’d collapsed on the sofa following a karate session during which one thing had led to another and the Aubusson rug had got a workout of a different kind.