When Night Falls (17 page)

He was tempted to grab those shapely shoulders of hers and give her a good shake. He was trying to be serious, and here she was, rubbing her body all over him, teasing him with bold words. “Don’t,” he growled, then stroked the hair from her face, giving himself an unencumbered view of the glow in her eyes. “You’re the only one who’s ever made it better.” He wasn’t sure where the words came from, only knew he had to say them.

She had to know he wasn’t here for sex.

He was here for her.

“Your courage and conviction,” he added, watching her eyes flare wide, moisture flood in. “Your compassion. Your loyalty. You’re the only one who makes me feel not so alone, and I don’t want to fight it anymore.”

A single tear spilled over her lashes. “Then don’t.”

“I don’t have protection,” he growled.

“It’s okay. I’m on the Pill.”

On a low oath, he crushed her to him, took her mouth with his. She opened to him, let him in, made him feel like he belonged. Like he was home. He held her tighter, kissed her more deeply. He loved the way her arms twined around his back, her breasts pressed into him. He splayed his hands against her back, then let one trail forward to cup the weight of her breasts.

Honor be damned. He’d never had a heroic bone in his body. Didn’t know why he’d tried to find one now.

* * *

Sensation sizzled through her. Heat. Need. And for the first time in her life, Jess knew what it was to be possessed. Liam’s mouth expertly claimed hers, his tongue making promises she wanted him to fulfill with his body. One of his hands tangled with her hair; the other flirted with her breast. Down lower, she felt the ridge of his erection pressing into her abdomen. She’d never felt more alive in her entire life.

Instinct took over. She tore her mouth from his and stepped back, needing to see him, to convince herself this wasn’t a dream. That this was reality. This was Liam.

Through the flickering light of the candle, she glanced up and caught the play of shadows against his face. The sheer male beauty of him made her want to weep. Need glittered in his eyes, but not aggression. She saw restraint there, maybe even confusion. Strength. And isolation.

Always isolation.

And that’s what she longed to change.

The man had survived more storms than an army of men should ever have to face. He’d weathered them all, but they’d taken their toll on him, chipping away at him until he’d learned to protect himself. To feel nothing. To want nothing.

But he felt now. And he wanted.

She saw it in his eyes, felt it in his body.

She felt, too.

“Liam,” she whispered, then reached out, hating the way he winced, as though bracing himself for a blow. With a soft smile she took the flaps of his bomber jacket in her hands, eased the worn leather over his shoulders and down his arms. She loved the thick but soft feel, the rich smell of man and sandalwood.

And then he stood there in a pool of moonlight, a man in a black T-shirt and black jeans.

She wanted him naked.

He seemed to want the same thing. Something resembling a growl tore from his throat as he reached for his T-shirt, yanked it from the waistband of his jeans.

“Let me,” she said, then took over, pulling the cotton over his head. His shoulders were broad, his pecs well defined. Dark hair covered the expanse of his chest, whirled around his dark mauve nipples. She wanted to take one in her mouth, tease it with her tongue, see if she could make him groan.

But even more, she wanted the rest of him.

“Like to be in charge?” he asked darkly.

She glanced up and tossed him her most wicked smile. “Of you, yes. But you can have free rein with me.” She saw the shock flare in his eyes, the pleasure, and immediately went for the fly of his jeans.

She barely got the zipper down before his hands joined hers in shoving the worn fabric down his legs. A primal rush streamed through her when she realized he’d taken off his underwear, too, and stood before her naked. And beautiful.

In one graceful move he kicked free of his jeans and pulled her against the warmth of his body. His mouth reclaimed hers, and he skillfully backed her toward the bed. It was a good thing he was holding her, because her bones went so liquid she could hardly move.

When the backs of her legs bumped against the mattress, he eased her down, following her on one knee. He braced himself with his arms, his big body hovering over hers.

They were separated only by her pajama bottoms.

She knew what came next, had never wanted anything as badly as she wanted Liam inside of her, making love to her. Making her his.

“Liam,” she whispered, loving the sight of him above her. She feathered her fingertips against the rough surface of his jaw, then slid her hand to the back of his head and pulled him down.

He went willingly. As he did, he grabbed a pillow and positioned it under her head so that they lay horizontally across the bed. Her legs fell open; her whole being almost cried out when he positioned himself between her thighs.

The kiss started out gentle but quickly raced beyond flash point. She mourned when he left her mouth but thrilled when his lips trailed down her throat to her aching breasts. The pinpricks of sensation were almost unbearable. He twirled his tongue around her nipple, steady strokes that only increased her need for him, made the emptiness inside seem all the more severe.

“Please,” she said, arching into his mouth. She could have sworn she heard a growl of satisfaction as the suction began. But she didn’t know from which of them the raw noise came. Didn’t care.

His body was big and strong and powerful, and Jess knew what it was to be worshiped. His mouth took care of her breasts while he slid a hand down her stomach and into her pajama bottoms, where he quickly discovered how badly she wanted him. She was wet; she was ready. Again, she heard a ragged sound of satisfaction, and this time she knew it came from him. He slipped a large finger inside, withdrew it slowly.

And this time, the cry came from her.

She grabbed his hair in her fists and pulled his head from her breasts. A wicked light gleamed in his eyes.

“You’re a cruel man, William Armstrong,” she rasped, then tilted her hips as he slid a second finger inside.

“Is that a complaint?”

“Not yet,” she said weakly, trying not to give over to the demands of his talented fingers, “but if you don’t hurry, I might just have to take control, after all.”

His smile heated. “That sounds suspiciously like a dare.”

An odd sense of wonder heightened her desire. She’d never seen Liam like this, darkly seductive, almost playful. She’d never known him to lower his guard so completely. She’d never wanted so badly to stretch a single moment into an entire lifetime.

“Don’t test me.” She reached down and curled her fingers around the length of him. “I’m not above taking hostages.”

Surprise registered in his gaze only a heartbeat before he groaned at her brand of torture. She squeezed him, let her thumb skim along the part of him she wanted to feel inside her.

“You’re a brave woman,” he said in return, increasing the pace and pressure of his fingers, “but I’m not sure you realize what waits on the other side.”

“Then show me.”

Something unintelligible tore from his throat as he grabbed at her pajama bottoms. Together, they clumsily discarded the last restraint between them. Her whole body was alive and on fire, poised on the brink of something powerful. Their eyes met, and her breath caught.

“Jessica,” he said in a strangely hoarse voice, then raised a hand to cup her cheek.

In return, she slid her hands down the warm flesh of his back to curl around his firm buttocks. “Now.”

For the first time since she’d known him, Liam obeyed. He pushed inside her, slowly, achingly, letting her adjust to the sheer size of him. She wrapped her arms around him and cried out, felt her head loll back. She’d never been promiscuous, had only had intercourse twice before.

But she’d never made love.

And now she knew the difference.

Liam’s loving brought far more than her body to life. The feel of his body joined intimately with hers touched her emotionally, spiritually. The connection tapped into a primal place she’d never known existed, a place of vulnerability she’d innately protected. Never before had the physical infiltrated the emotional.

But she knew no fear in Liam’s arms, only a sense of rightness far more profound than she’d ever imagined possible.

“Liam.” She tried to whisper, but a soft moan tore from her throat instead. Only then did she realize moisture had flooded her eyes, emotion her body. He started moving within her, steady strokes in a rhythm she eagerly matched. The need was unbearable. She wanted all of him. She wanted him deep. She never wanted the dream to end.

But she had to open her eyes. She wanted to see him, to experience every exquisite detail as fully as possible. The candle cast shadows across the hard planes of his face, providing just the right play of light and darkness. His jaw was set, his mouth partly open, his eyes glazed in passion.

Strength and pleasure in its most elemental form.

“You like?” he asked wickedly, and only then did she realize he’d caught her staring.

“Very much.”

His eyes gleamed. “It gets even better,” he promised, returning his mouth to hers for a deeper kiss. At the same time, he hooked an arm behind one of her knees and brought her leg up against her stomach, giving him a more intimate angle. She arched into him, wrapping herself around him as fully as possible.

She never wanted to let go.

With each thrust the gathering storm intensified. Lightning prickled through her nerve endings; thunder rumbled through her blood. She held off letting go as long as possible, savoring the gathering intensity, but the sensations grew stronger, more demanding.

“Liam.”
she cried, feeling his body tense, as well. “Please.”

And that was all it took. With one final deep thrust, Liam cried out as they came together. Thoughts and feelings and dreams fragmented into slivers of exquisite sensation. But Jess didn’t fight it. She let go, completely, irrevocably, giving herself to Liam in the most intimate, unguarded way imaginable.

Stolen moments, she thought in some hazy corner of her mind, but for the first time in her life, she didn’t care.

* * *

The chill woke her. Early morning sun streamed in through her window, and a thick down comforter still encased her, but neither delivered warmth to her naked body. She curled her knees to her chest and squeezed her eyes shut, but reality slid through anyway. She didn’t need to go downstairs to know the truth. Liam was gone.

Disappointment pushed aside the lingering glow of their loving, and the rose-colored glasses shattered. She’d taken William Armstrong in her arms, her bed, then her body, telling herself the moments were nothing but stolen, but in her heart hoping she could show him another way, offer him a gift he’d never had. Show him the beauty of sharing.

Jess opened her eyes and looked at the bright wash of sun against the destroyed bed. The sheets were tangled, the pillow indented from where his head had rested. Gingerly, she ran her fingers along the cotton, imagining she still felt the warmth of his body.

She blinked back tears, refusing to cry.

God help her, she’d crossed the line. Cops belonged on the street, not in bed. But when he’d shown up on her doorstep in the middle of the night, he’d been at an emotional low, out of his mind with worry. And rather than let Jessica Clark the street-smart cop handle him, she’d been Jess the woman, a woman so deeply in love with the wrong man she’d given him free use of her body for hour after hour, letting him have her and use her, while all the while, she’d spun silly dreams and fantasies about making love and rainbows and white picket fences, forgetting one fundamental truth.

The granite man always walked away.

Chapter 13

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”
D
rop it, girl. Drop it.” Molly obediently released the Frisbee and let it fall to the brown grass, then gazed at Liam with adoration and excitement dancing in her big chocolate eyes.

“Good girl,” he said, then picked up the bright red disk and flung it toward the back of the yard. The dog took off after it, then caught her trophy midair.

“Good girl!” Liam praised. “Now bring it back to Daddy.”

Jess stood at the wrought-iron gate separating Liam’s back yard from his driveway. She breathed deeply of the crisp morning air, savored the feel of the sun against her face. She knew she should announce her presence but needed a moment to make sure the walls she’d slapped up around her emotions, still raw from the night before’s loving, would withstand what she had to say.

The sight of man and dog wasn’t helping matters. The unconditional love shining in Molly’s eyes tugged at her heart, made her long for a simplicity that could never be. During the long, dark hours of the night, she’d thought they were carving out a near painful intimacy. A bond to make them stronger. But with his departure and the stark light of day, Jess faced reality. What for her had been powerful and meaningful had likely been little more than sexual gratification for him. A release.

Too bad her body didn’t care, still hummed deep inside. He looked completely at home in the dormant back yard, his dark jeans and sweatshirt as devoid of vibrancy as the brown grass and naked oaks, the threadbare shrubbery. A gorgeous lagoon-shaped pool glistened beneath the morning sun, but standing deserted, it looked as lonely as the man. Even the trickle of an impressive rock waterfall evoked solitude.

“Drop it,” he said when Molly raced up with the Frisbee. She obeyed, prompting him to pick up the disk and launch it again. As before, the dog raced toward the back of the yard.

A stab of empathy cut through Jess, forcing her to look away, toward a barren post oak beyond the pool, its branches scraggling toward the bright blue sky. She didn’t want to see Liam like this. Didn’t want to see him alone. Didn’t want to see him playing with his daughter’s dog.

“My, God, Jessica.”

She glanced toward the cabana to find him striding toward her. Molly raced after him. His expression was fierce, alarmed. His long legs made quick work of the pebbled concrete separating them.

“What is it?” he barked, fumbling with the padlock on the gate. He yanked it off, swung open the wrought iron and took her shoulders in his hands. “Tell me.”

His touch seared through her. There was no gentleness from the night before, no sensuality. Just desperation. “Tell you what?”

“I can see it in your eyes. Something has happened. Emily—”

She realized it then, and her heart sank. Something had happened, all right, something dangerous and irrevocable. “No, not Emily,” she said softly but firmly. “Us.”

Disappointment hollowed his gaze. “Damn it,” he growled, then released her shoulders as though he’d been holding hot coals, not the body he’d thoroughly explored the night before. “I asked you not to come here again unless you had news about my daughter.”

Jess refused to wince, refused to let him see how deeply his words cut. “I’m not a coward, Liam. I don’t run anymore.”

“Be that as it may, I’m not into S&M.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

His eyes went wild. “You, damn it!
You.
I’m talking about you.” He lifted a hand toward her face, let it drop. For the first time since she’d met him, he looked at a complete loss. “Every time I see you …
 
my heart just stops.”

The words, the tortured tone, did cruel, cruel things to her heart. Fantasies, dreams, reality … they crashed and merged, fought for domination. She wanted to interpret his words in an intimate sense, one that had to do with their lovemaking the night before.

The cop in her, the realist, knew the truth. It lodged in her throat, scratched and burned. “Because you think I have news about your daughter.”

He looked at her. Through her. “Only a fool continuously sets himself up for disappointment.”

Disappointment.
The word landed like a fist to the gut.

“Last night should never have happened,” he said in a voice devoid of emotion. “I was tired, not thinking clearly—”

“Don’t.” She stepped closer, lifted her chin. “Don’t you dare stand here and tell me you didn’t want last night every bit as much as I did. Don’t make excuses.” Hurt and anger pushed her on, and she found her lips curving into a bitter smile. “You just can’t stand it, can you? You can’t stand that for once in your life, you let yourself need someone. You lowered your guard. You let someone in. And you liked it.”

His expression darkened. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, I do,” she said, and realized that she did. Somehow that gave her strength. “You’re so used to being alone, being on the outside looking in. You’re used to fighting, to keeping an iron-clad control on everything.” Much like the massive gate surrounding his home. “But last night the control wavered, and for a few unforgettable hours you were free. Really free. Free to be the warm, compassionate man you really are, not the granite man you hide behind. And that rattled you. Rattled you as deeply as it did me, and so now you’re just going to pretend it didn’t happen.”

He stiffened, looked like she’d slapped him. “Leave it alone, Jessica.”

There was no way she could. She was a cop. A trained professional. She knew how to sniff out a lead, how to interrogate, when she was onto the truth. Standing there in his back yard, with the midmorning sun shining down and a cool breeze pressing against them, Liam looked like a man facing his own mortality. His expression was harsh, his shockingly blue eyes dark.

“You just can’t admit it, can you?” The draw she’d felt to him since the beginning pulled her closer. “Can’t admit you’re scared—”

“Like hell.”

“Scared of taking a chance again, scared of not always being rock solid, scared of—”

He took her shoulders in his hands and pulled her toward him, silenced her words with his mouth. The kiss was hard and heart-stopping. Frustrated.
Lost.
His lips moved possessively against hers, strong, yet gentle, as well. Just like the man himself. Releasing her arms, he slid one hand to cup her neck, the other to press against her lower back.

Shock streamed through Jess, followed closely by hope. She twined her arms around him, welcoming the warm, solid feel of man, the soft cotton of his shirt. She returned his kiss with a fervor that sprung from deep inside, the need to beat down the obstacles between them and become just man and woman again, to show Liam how good it could be, that he didn’t have to be afraid. That love made him stronger, not weaker.

Abruptly, he pulled back. A peculiar light glinted in his hard blue eyes. His jaw was set, the dark stubble there making him look shockingly dangerous.

“Does that feel like fear?” he asked.

Jess blinked at him, scarcely able to breathe. The truth shimmied around and through her, made her want to weep. “Sheer terror.”

The planes of his face hardened, and for a moment, she thought he meant to tell her she was crazy, to demand she leave him alone, then turn and storm away. Instead he swore softly and pulled her to him, returned his mouth to hers. This time he drank even more deeply of her, almost greedily.

She did the same of him.

She didn’t know what it was about this man that made her forget common sense, fling everything she knew about survival into the cool morning breeze, but standing in his back yard, with his arms holding her to his big body, she didn’t care, either. She knew he was fighting the need between them. She knew that for some insane reason, to him, reaching out to her was tantamount to failure.

She had to show him that wasn’t true.

His hands were all over her, big and strong and capable, the rough feel of his fingertips skimming along the smooth skin of her face. Somehow the gesture made her feel special, precious. Important. And she felt the meltdown deep inside.

“Liam,” she murmured against his mind-numbing mouth. “It’s okay.”

His hands abandoned her face, and for a moment she thought he meant to pull away, but instead he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off the ground. A thrill speared through her as he strode toward the cabana, over the deck, toward the house. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she savored the feel of his body moving against hers.

His mouth never left hers.

They barely made it inside before desire boiled over. He made quick work of her sweater and slacks, she of his shirt and jeans. She was aware of him tearing away her panties, releasing her breasts. The sensation of his big hands claiming her body blotted out all else. They weren’t going to make it to his bed.

“Jessica,” he murmured, easing her down on the wide sofa. She opened to him body and soul, invited him back to that special, rare place where the darkness dimmed, and the light of the future shone. There were no preliminaries. They weren’t needed. Her body still burned from the night before, a hunger intensified by the gulf between them. There was only one way to fill that gulf, she thought as she let her legs fall open and felt him slide inside.

Only one.

Only Liam.

* * *

She lay in his arms, all warm and silken and flushed. Her cheek rested against his chest. Her beautiful auburn hair fell across his abdomen. Their legs tangled intimately. Liam would have thought she slept were it not for the way her long fingers played with the hair surrounding his nipples. Slowly. Reverently. Tenderly.

A damning sense of contentment welled within him. He loved the feel of her silken skin, the steady thrumming of her heart. He loved the purely feminine smell of her, the drugging taste. He loved the way she never backed down, the way she lifted her chin and challenged him with those intelligent, defiant eyes of hers.

His need for her went against everything he’d ever taught himself about survival. She was the most amazing woman he’d ever met. And that made her dangerous. Distracting. She made him forget what he needed to remember, made him want a future on which he’d long since turned his back.

But she also made him feel alive.

Guilt pierced anew. He should have never gone to her condo the night before. He should have never indulged the need to see the light in her eyes, feel the warmth in her touch. He should have remained alone, as he’d done for so long. But he hadn’t, and now he had to deal with the fallout.

Sex had never been complicated before. Sex had been two consenting adults enjoying each other’s bodies. Sex had been a release. Sex had been easy to walk away from.

But this wasn’t sex, and he damn well knew it.

That was the problem.

This morning he’d awoken in Jessica’s arms feeling more complete than he had a right to. And that was why he’d left. The mindless release of sex, he rationalized on the drive home, but then he’d seen her standing on the other side of the wrought-iron gate, a brave woman with the sun glinting off the copper highlights in her hair, and had wanted nothing more than to eliminate the bars separating them, let her in. Even when she’d revealed she had no news about Emily, he’d wanted her in his arms. He’d wanted to feel her heart thudding against his chest. To smell the clean scent of apples and baby powder.

He never wanted to let her go.

“You should probably get that,” Jessica murmured, shifting so he could reach the ringing phone on the table by the sofa.

Reluctantly, he slid from beneath her arms and grabbed the receiver. “Armstrong here.”

“When are you going to learn?” taunted a distorted voice.

Liam surged to his feet. “Who is this?” Jessica stood, as well, pressing against him and resting a hand against his arm.

“Do I have your attention now?” the sexless voice mocked. “Doesn’t feel so good to lose, does it?”

He knew. God help him, he knew.

“What do you want from me? Where the hell’s my daughter?”

“I think a better question is where’s her dog?”

The line went dead.

Liam stood stock-still for an excruciating second. He tried to breathe, found he couldn’t. His heart beat mercilessly in his chest. Blood roared through his veins.

“Christ,” he swore, then yanked on his jeans and headed for the back door. “Molly!”

Horrible thoughts and possibilities chased him across the cabana, deep into the yard. The brown grass crunched beneath his bare feet. “Molly? Where are you, girl?”

Nothing. No barking. No eager dog bounding to him. He’d been playing with her when Jessica arrived. The dog had followed him to the gate. He’d opened it…

He turned toward the side of the house but found the gate closed.

He didn’t remember securing it.

Jessica caught up with him. She’d thrown on her slacks and sweater, but her hair was tangled, her eyes fevered.

“I wasn’t paying attention,” he said, then pivoted toward the back of the yard. “Molly!”

“She’s got to be here somewhere,” Jessica said. But Liam knew his daughter’s dog. She
always
came when called. He ran past a cluster of old post oaks, toward the gazebo he’d built for Emily. Sometimes she and Molly would sit in the morning sun—