Trouble (40 page)

Dara arrived at the office after eight that night, which was as good a time as any to catch Mike, and parked behind the brownstone. She got out of her car with her key ring at the ready, but then she remembered: she'd returned her office key when she cleaned out her desk. She'd hoped to surprise Mike the way he was so fond of doing to her today, but now she'd have to call on her cell and ask him to let her in.

Maybe she should just go back home right now and forget this whole stupid idea, she thought after she'd dialed and held the phone up to her ear with an unsteady hand. She was way too nervous for a coherent conversation, and he would argue with whatever she said anyway, which, coupled with the part of her that wanted him back, put her at a distinct disadvantage. Maybe she should sleep on it and rethink her confrontation plan tomorrow. Maybe …

“Mike Baldwin,” he said in her ear.

Her stomach clenched and she started to hang up.

Scuffling sound followed by flapping papers. She had the image of Mike swinging his feet off the desk to the floor and knocking over several files in the process.

“Dara!” he said. “I know it's you! Don't hang up! Dara? Are you there?”

She took a deep breath and strove for cool detachment. “We need to talk.”

“Whatever you want. I can come to your apartment right now, or I could meet—”

“No, I'm at the office. You just need to open the back door for me.”

“I'm coming.”

The line went dead, and she immediately heard his footsteps thundering through the brownstone and up to the door, which he snatched open.

Mike studied Dara's wary face, ready to weep with gratitude as he let her pass.

“Come in.” He shut and locked the door after her. “No one's here. We can go up to my—”

She shook her head. “I'm not staying. I need to go.”

His heart crashed and burned.

“Not yet,” he said quickly. He kept his voice soft, but he would not negotiate. She wouldn't leave until they'd worked things out or at least given it their best effort.

No, scratch that. She was not leaving.

He stepped closer. “Why did you come?”

“I want you to stop. You need to stop.”

There was a pause.

“I can't,” he said simply.

“Of course you can.”

“I can't let go of something I need as much as I need you.”

He stooped down in her face so they were at eye level, where he felt a terrible jolt of her abject misery. Then she turned her head and backed away from him, up against the counter.

“Do you think you'll be able to look me in the face again anytime soon, Dara?”

She shrugged, but didn't lift her gaze from the floor. “I don't know. I don't know how long it's going to hurt when I look at you.”

Yeah, okay. Now he was starting to get pissed. They were both hurting here, but he was trying to make things right. Couldn't she see that? Couldn't she meet him halfway? He could tell from a mile off that she wasn't any happier than he was.

“You don't know? Well, here's what I do know. I told you I love you and you didn't say anything.”

She laughed bitterly.

“Let's review the facts, shall we? After the gala, you told me you just wanted to screw me. Then you retracted that statement, told me it's not just about sex, and eventually made love to me. Then you told your sick mother you don't love me—basically that it
is
about the sex. Then when I asked you about what you said, you didn't even bother denying it! You gave me the worthless consolation prize of telling me you care about me. But wait! There's more to our saga! Now you
do
love me! You suddenly
do
want to marry me, even though I've heard you say on at least two occasions that you don't want to get married. Well, my mistake!” Ugly laugh. “I'll try to keep better score the next fifty times you dump me and want me back!”

Emotionally drawn and quartered, Mike glared as he tried to staunch the bleeding and regroup, reminding himself he'd always loved her smart mouth.

“Do you want me to tell you the truth?” he asked.

“That would be a refreshing change.”

“Well, here it is.” He grabbed her upper arms and leaned down in her face so the only place she could look was in his eyes. “I do love you. I've been in love with you since that first night we talked at the party.”

“Bullshit!” With one great jerk, Dara threw off his hands and wrenched free, pushing him away from her. “You wanted me. End of story. I'm leaving.”

She marched to the door.

“No.” He caught her arm and swung her back around, ignoring her outraged splutter. “You're not leaving until you understand that I was scared, but now I'm over it.”

“That's all you've got? You need to give me something I can work with! You think
your
fear is more special than mine? Because I was scared, too! I should've been focusing on school, but I was willing to take a chance with you because I—”

Mike's ears perked. Now they were getting somewhere.

“Because you loved me.”

Alarm flared in her eyes. “I didn't say that,” she said quickly.

“So you don't love me?”

“Why would I be stupid enough to fall for a man who thinks loving me will ruin his life?”

He held his hands out, palms up. “I'm sorry, Dara,” he said helplessly.

“This is so funny. Why didn't you see how much I worshipped you? That I would've done anything for you? That I was the best thing that ever happened to you and we could have been so happy together? How did you miss all that?”

He reached for her. “I see all that now, angel. I want to marry you.”

She jumped away and hurried to the door, which he'd foolishly left unguarded.

“You don't get it, do you? I'm not trying to force you into anything, especially a marriage you don't want! And I've started to accept that you don't return my feelings—”

“‘Don't return your feelings?”' he yelled, incredulous. “Are you insane? After you left it was like the sun stopped shining on my face! I didn't eat, I didn't sleep—I spent all my nights on the office sofa! I even stalked you a little—the day your finals started I spied on you from the parking lot just to see if you were okay! And when I saw you at my party I realized how much I need you! For the first time in weeks I could breathe again! And I am telling you we belong together and I am sorry I hurt you, but I want to marry you!”

Dara fell apart.

“I don't believe anything you say to me! I don't trust you! I don't forgive you!”

God, she was killing him.

Not knowing what else to say or do, Mike grabbed her and wrapped his arms around her, trapping her flailing arms at her sides. She struggled, but he held her tighter, pressing her head against his chest and hoping she'd calm down.

“Let me go!”

He whispered endlessly in her ear, his voice hoarse with strain.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart. I love you and I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”

When she eventually stopped fighting, he eased his grip so he could tip her chin up and see what she was thinking. He did not expect to see her flushed face and feverishly bright eyes, nor did he expect to feel the way her body had shivered to life beneath his hands.

“Dara?”

Before he thought about what he was doing, he pressed a kiss to her cheek, right at the corner of her mouth. A pleasurable sound hummed in her throat.

Arrested, he became aware of the sweetness and heat of her breath on his lips, the soft but firm pressure of her breasts against his chest and the heat in her heavy-lidded eyes.

He waited, afraid to breathe lest he wake himself up and discover it was all a dream.

She stepped closer. Her hands gripped his waist just as her hips shifted and pressed her into contact with his rigid arousal.

Utterly lost, Mike groaned, jerked her all the way into his arms and lowered his head.

Dara's
need for Mike—her need to feel him thrusting wildly, hotly and endlessly within her—spiraled out of control, like an avalanche thundering down a mountainside, obliterating everything in its path. There was no time for words or thoughts. Absence had intensified her yearning until it balanced on the sweet edge of pain.

She had to have him.

Now.

He was right there with her, planting his hands on her head and leaning it back, deepening the angle of his kiss so they could feast on each other's mouths. Then he backed her up against the kitchen door—luckily the curtains were drawn—stroking over her butt and hips, then up to her breasts. His hands couldn't seem to decide where they wanted to be and so were everywhere at once. She didn't want him to be gentle and, in his desperation to touch all of her and make sure nothing had changed, he wasn't.

Nothing and everything had changed. Mike tasted and felt sweeter than ever before. His body was bigger and stronger than she'd remembered, his fingers more skilled.

He broke the kiss for one breathless second, long enough for him to sweep her jacket off and her sweater up over her head. His hot hands rubbed over her back, then squeezed her breasts together. With a low growl, he stooped to bury his head between them, running his palms over her nipples until she cried out with unabashed pleasure.

Dara reveled in him, hanging on to his neck while she let her head fall back and her spine arch. He took advantage, finding her nipple with his thumb and rubbing it. Those glittering eyes watched her when he stooped again and scraped the sensitive nub with his teeth, making her writhe.

Jolts of sensation streaked through Dara's belly, spiraled lower and grew more insistent. With his usual exquisite responsiveness to her needs, Mike shoved one of his long, hard thighs between her legs so she could ride him, straining toward the relief she needed.

Mike straightened and their gazes locked for an open-mouthed pause while they tried to catch their breath. His eyes were glazed, his forehead damp.

And she needed to feel the thrilling slide of his bare skin against hers.

Moving as one, they reached for each other again, gentler now.

Crooning with anticipation, she unbuttoned his starched cotton dress shirt, slid it off his arms, then pulled his undershirt over his head, pausing to admire the way the gold necklace and diamond ring gleamed and sparkled against his brown skin. She'd never thought she'd be with such a beautiful, masculine creature and it was always a shock to see him like this. He was all broad chest and shoulders, chiseled belly, long legs and sinewy muscles, and all hers to command.

Just as she was his.

He seemed to know it. Deep in his dark eyes, beneath the fire and the lust, glimmered a hint of amusement. She didn't care. When she'd had enough of cranking herself higher by pumping her hips against his thigh, she arched into him and scratched her nails all the way up his back.

That seemed to be more than Mike could take. He moaned and broke away, cursing as he fumbled with her jeans. “Don't ever wear a belt again. You hear me?”

“Yes.”

He unzipped her jeans and, stooping, yanked them down over her hips. Dara stepped out of her shoes and kicked the jeans off. He started to stand, but paused to rub his unshaven face back and forth over her stomach, then down to the insides of her thighs until the prickling pleasure made her squirm helplessly.

Out of patience, he grabbed the edges of her black thong underwear with both of his hands and, with one great jerk, ripped them apart and out from between her legs. Dara cried out, her wet sex tightening on the verge of a staggering climax.

Mike unzipped his own pants and freed himself. Then he planted his hands on her butt and lifted her off her feet as if she weighed five pounds. The strength she felt coursing through his arms when he shifted his weight, using the door as leverage, was amazing.

Acting on instinct, she wrapped her legs tight around his waist and rubbed insistently against his rock hard arousal. That was all the invitation he needed.

With one powerful thrust, he was inside her. On the next thrust, she shattered on a sharp cry, her climax so bright and piercing she doubted she'd ever recover from it.

“I missed you, Dara.” Mike's hips sped up, pounding her ruthlessly into the door. “Missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

His hips circled and drummed, every stroke driving him harder and deeper into her body until the pleasure became unbearable. It radiated up her spine and danced over her skin until she thought she would leap out of it.

“Please stop,” she begged. “Please. Please stop. I can't take this.”

“No.”

Impossibly, she felt the tension building again, rawer and a thousand times more intense than before. “Please,” she cried, bucking against him, desperate and insensible. “Please. Oh, God, Mike.
Please
.”