The Perfect Husband - Lisa Gardner [119]
His hips rotated against her suggestively. She bit her lower lip, hating him for making her want him and treating it as if it were nothing.
“Damn you,” she whispered.
For his reply he caught her lower lip and sank his teeth into it. Her hands uncurled on his chest. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, drawing him closer while her mind screamed white-hot fury and called her a fool.
She yanked her head. “Stop it. I’m not your toy!”
“Could’ve fooled me.” His thumb began a more insistent pattern around her taut nipple. Her back arched into it.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said hoarsely. “I’m still going to set the trap. I’m still going to do exactly as I planned. If you want to be angry, fine. If you want to torture me until then, fine. But I know it means nothing to you, and it changes nothing!”
He swore. Then he kissed her hard. It was an eating kiss. His tongue plunged in, hot and thick and filling her. She accepted it greedily, her hips pressing against his groin, feeling his growing hardness. He ground into her and she met him halfway.
Then abruptly he pulled back. She cried out her disappointment shamelessly, her hands reaching for him. In a smooth movement he grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. She landed facing the hood with his breath hot against her ear. His hips rotated suggestively against her buttocks.
“Unbutton your jeans,” he whispered. “Do it for me now.”
She shook her head but her hands were on her zipper. His fingers curled around the thick denim and tugged it down the minute she unzipped the fly.
She felt the cold winter air against her exposed hips. She felt him push up her sweater, her hands planted on the trunk of the car.
He thrust his foot between hers, parting her legs, pulling her hips closer. It was crude and coarse and she arched her back, her eyes already shut as the anticipation swelled in her veins.
“I’m not going to let you bait Beckett,” he growled.
“You can’t stop me,” she murmured, and parted her legs farther.
“Goddammit,” he swore, and thrust hard. She cried out as he penetrated. “I’m going to save you,” he ground out, his hips already moving. “Dammit, I’m going to save you. I’m going to save you!”
“You can’t,” she whispered, but then she couldn’t think. The air was cold and crisp, his body hard and hot.
The tempo increased and her ears knew only the sounds of her thundering pulse and his grunting breaths. The feel of him sliding inside her, deeper and deeper. The joining of him with her. The realization that it might mean little to him, but it meant everything to her. It would always mean everything to her.
“Goddamn the colonel!” he whispered abruptly. “Goddamn Jim Beckett. I won’t let them destroy another. I won’t let—”
His voice broke into a garbled cry. He thrust hard, pouring into her just as she cried out her release.
Then she whispered his name and knew in her heart it was too late for sanity. She understood his anger, she understood his fear. She understood his need. She’d gotten under his skin and seen all the good he couldn’t acknowledge, the fear he tried to hide, and the loneliness he pretended didn’t exist.
She loved him.
MUCH LATER, WHEN the sun was gone and a fresh moon flirted with the sky, they checked into a new motel room. J.T. was silent, as he’d been all afternoon. After dropping her bag on the floor, Tess handed him her bottle of aspirin. He shook out eight and popped them at once.
Tiredly he began to strip off his clothes. She watched, wordlessly.
“You’re making me self-conscious,” he muttered.
“I’m just admiring. Has anyone ever told you that you’re beautiful?”
“The stress has fried your brain.”
“I mean it, J.T. You’re beautiful to me.”
He turned away and climbed into bed. She removed her clothes and joined him. They’d already spoken to Lieutenant Houlihan. There was no sign of Jim, no sign of Sam. Somewhere out there her daughter slept alone. Was she well cared for?