Twice Kissed - Lisa Jackson [131]
“We’ve been through this part before, Mag Pie. Why don’t you quit stalling.” His voice was low, nearly threatening.
She froze. Oh, Lord, why had she opened her mouth in the first place?
“You said she contacted you. What did she say?” he repeated.
“The truth of the matter is that she said you were involved.”
“Involved? In what?”
“In whatever happened to her.”
“What?” he whispered.
“She…she said that you did it to her. Whatever she was talking about.”
“Is this some kind of joke?”
“Of course not.”
“You believe that I…oh, hell.” His fingers curled into fists. “Son of a bitch. Son of a goddamned—” In three swift strides he crossed the room and grabbed her shoulders. “Listen to me, Maggie, I don’t know what you or Mary Theresa are trying to pull here, but I didn’t do anything to harm her. You understand?” His fingers dug deep into her shoulders.
“Pull?” she replied. “You think I’m trying to put something over on you?” She couldn’t believe her ears. After all the time they’d spent together, after kissing and touching and…Dear God, how could he possibly think she would lie to him? But you don’t trust him, do you? Not completely. Be honest, Maggie. “That’s…that’s ridiculous.”
“Any more ridiculous than trying to make me believe that you and your sister, from whom you’re practically estranged, are involved in some kind of mental telepathy and that she…she is trying to blame me for her disappearance?”
“I know it sounds crazy but—”
“Holy Christ, it is crazy, Maggie.” He stared at her with harsh, unforgiving eyes. “What the hell is this?”
“You tell me, Thane.” She glared up at him. “You’re the one with the secrets.” Shadows shifted in his eyes and she sensed a lie. “Damn you, Walker, why can’t you be straight with me?”
“Probably for the same reason you can’t with me.” His gaze drifted from her eyes to her lips. “You never said a word about Mary Theresa pointing some kind of mental finger at me. And now all of a sudden—”
“It’s true, damn it. Why would I make it up? Why? You think I want you to think I’m a looney? For God’s sake, Thane, for once in your life, trust me.”
“Why?” he demanded, and she nearly slapped him.
“Go to hell.”
“Too late, darlin’,” he said roughly as he dragged her so close she could smell his heat, “’cause I’m already there.” With that his lips crashed down on hers and kissed her long and hard, sucking the breath from her lungs, causing her blood to ignite. One hand slipped beneath the lapel of her robe to cup her breast.
She closed her eyes as rough fingers grazed her nipple.
Don’t do this, Maggie, she warned herself. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t! But she couldn’t stop, and when his tongue pressed against her mouth, her lips parted willingly. One hand worked the knot of her robe, the other shoved the terry cloth over her shoulders and suddenly she was naked, sagging against him, and he was on his knees, kissing her breasts, touching, suckling as goose bumps rose on her flesh. Her fingers plowed through his hair as he kissed her navel, his tongue rimming the small indentation, his hands lowering to her buttocks, where they held her fast against him.
She melted inside and moaned and he kissed her intimately before she sagged into his waiting arms and he carried her to the bed. Stop, Maggie, she told herself as she looked up at him looming over her, a dozen questions in his gaze. But the warning fell on deaf ears and she turned off the denials racing through her brain as she found the buttons of his shirt, pushed the cotton fabric off strong shoulders and down long, sinewy arms. She tossed the shirt to the floor. Anxiously her fingers found the button fly of his jeans and with one tug, the fasteners gave way. She should stop, right now. Before things went too far. But she couldn’t. Deep