J. Kenner - Heated

I forced myself not to take a step back, because how could I answer that question? Because you were right there, the focus of my investigation? Because I still want to get close; I still want inside Destiny; I still want to know what you are up to, and if Kevin is even close to right, I still want to shut you down.

That was all true, but it wasn’t the truth.

The truth was more raw, more scary. Because Tyler Sharp was dangerous. He was edgy. He was not the kind of man I should let under my skin.

Yet I had, and that that truth cut deep inside me. And what scared me was the certainty that if I spoke it aloud, I could never take it back.

Even so, I couldn’t keep silent. So I drew in a breath, gathered my courage, and told this enigmatic, dangerous man the deepest, most essential truth. “Because you saw me. Because you see me. Because nobody else ever has.”

He held my gaze, then slowly nodded. A moment later, he moved to the bed, then sat on the edge. “Come here, he said, and I moved forward to stand between his knees. He reached out for the sash on the robe, then gave it a tug to release the bow. The robe fell open, exposing me to him.

I stayed perfectly still, though my blood was pounding so hard in my veins it was a wonder he couldn’t hear it. He stood, his body so close to mine I could feel his heat. Then he reached with one hand and pulled the sash free from the loops of the robe. Next, he lifted both hands, placed them on my shoulders, and eased the robe off my body.

It pooled at my feet, leaving me naked and warm and frantic for his touch.

Slowly, his gaze skimmed over me, and with each moment that passed, I felt the need inside me grow. I didn’t know what to expect—all I knew was that I wanted it, and now.

“Beautiful.” A single word, but it might as well have been a touch. My breasts tightened, my nipples hardening so much it was almost painful. And my sex ached with a throbbing need that could only be satisfied by his touch.

I wanted to beg for it. To take his hand and place it upon me. Instead, I simply said, “Please.”

“Give me your hand.” His voice was sensual, yet commanding, and I complied without hesitation.

He held me gently, then slowly trailed the end of the silk sash over my arm, my wrist, the back of my hand. I’d never considered hands particularly erotic, but the sensual allure of the silk against my skin was undeniable.

“Please,” I said again, and watched his mouth curve into a smile.

“Please, what?”

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “Just, please.”

“Whatever the lady wants.” He twisted the sash around my wrist, then knotted it. As he did, I felt something cold rising slowly inside me, fighting through the heat. I bit my lip, resisting the urge to pull my hand back, and forced myself to simply breathe.

“There’s a sensuality in being bound,” he said, as the cold thing began to twist in my belly.

“No,” I whispered, but I didn’t withdraw my hand. The cold had frozen me.

His smile seemed almost amused. “You came to me, Sloane, remember? You came because you wanted to see how far I can take you.”

But not this far, I wanted to scream. You should know. You should see. Not this far.

As if he heard my silent plea, he released my hand, and I almost cried out in gratitude as the ice in my veins began to melt.

Crisis averted. Horror stymied. This will be okay. This is fine. Just breathe, and everything will be fine.

I told myself that. Repeated it like a mantra as I lowered my arm, the silk still dangling from my wrist, relief flooding through me, so powerful it left me weak and a little dizzy.

“We’ll go far, I promise you.” Slowly—so frustratingly slowly—he stroked his fingertip along my collarbone. Then headed downward, lower and lower in a straight line between my breasts and to my abdomen.

My muscles contracted with the touch, my breath coming in little gasps. Then he moved lower still until his fingers found me wet and ready and even the slightest brush of his touch against my clit sent shivers coursing through me and made my body go limp.

“Not yet,” he said, withdrawing his hand with a devious grin, then drawing me to the bed, and easing me down so that I was prone with Tyler looking down at me from above.

“Lovely,” he said. “Now spread your legs. I want to see you open wide for me. Ripe for me. I want to see your body glisten.” With deliberate slowness, he slid his hands up my legs, then eased them apart. I closed my eyes, my head turned away, both aroused by his touch and embarrassed by the desire that I knew he could so plainly see.

“You look delicious,” he said, and as he spoke he trailed a finger up my thigh, then over my hip and up the curve of my torso. He lifted my arm, and I felt the brush of his lips as he trailed kisses up it. “I want to touch you, to take you as far as you can go, and I want to make certain that you can’t squirm away from the pleasure.”

The cold thing was back, twisting in my gut, and I jerked upright, my eyes flying open as the fear crashed over me.

But there was nowhere to go. The sash was still around my wrist and though I wasn’t sure when he managed it, I was attached quite firmly to the bed. “No.” I’d meant to scream the word, but it was only a whisper.

“No? You came of your own accord, Sloane.”

He reached for my other hand, and I tried to breathe. Tried to be a cop, and not a fourteen-year-old girl. Tried to swim up through this black ocean of fear. But I couldn’t. He’d thrown me off center—yanked open the door to the abyss—and I was falling now.

“You know the rules.” His voice undulated, as it filtered through the fear that was pounding in my head. “You had the chance to leave—more chances than I should have given you. And yet you came to my bed, aroused and wanting me.”

“But not this.” I forced the words out. “Not this. Dammit, Tyler, let me go.”

I was struggling now, my heart beating wildly. The room that had been bathed in golden light was now as red as blood. As hot as death.

I could barely see him through the haze, could barely hear him through the maelstrom in my head, the memories, the fear, the pain, all tied up together like some horrible, violent monster that was intent on swallowing me whole.

“Just relax,” he was saying as he began to twist what looked like a curtain sash around my other wrist.

No, no, goddammit, no!

I’m not sure how I managed it, not sure how I made my body move the way it did. But somehow I lashed through the pain. Somehow, I caught him across the face, my fist plowing hard against his temple.

“Goddammit!” His curse was filled with pain, and he reared back, and I took advantage of the movement to thrust my knee up. A one in a million chance, but it worked, and I heard his low, guttural groan as I caught him hard in the balls.

I tried to bolt off the bed, but my arm was still tied fast to the headboard. And as I tried to steady my breathing—tried to think—I saw Tyler lift his head, and I saw the heat and danger flash wildly in his eyes.

Before, I’d been afraid of the memories. Now, I was afraid of the man.

This is it, I thought. Dear god, this is it.

“Stay away,” I snarled. “Just stay the fuck away.”

“Sloane.” He said my name and then dropped his head, his body hunched over on the floor beside the bed.

I twisted, trying to loosen the knot with my free hand.

“I’m sorry.” Regret laced his voice, and when I turned my head and looked at him, the anger I’d seen in his eyes was gone. Instead I saw only tenderness—and endless pools of regret.

I felt my body sag with relief. “Let me go,” I said. “Just let me get the hell out of here.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again as he rose slowly to his feet. “I didn’t know. I thought you—I didn’t know,” he repeated, but I didn’t understand what he meant.

He reached for me, and I flinched. He froze, his face as tight and hard as if I’d hit him.

“I didn’t know,” he said yet again, and though I still didn’t understand, I wasn’t about to ask. Right then, I didn’t care. I just wanted out of there.

I felt a tear escape to track down my cheek, and I turned brutally away. “Please,” I said. “Just untie me.”

“Of course. Of course, I will.”

He did, and I sat up, feeling fragile and confused. I started to reach for the robe, but he bent to get it before I could, and handed it to me.

I stood, then shrugged it on.

“Stay,” he said, but I just shook my head. I moved to the living room, feeling a bit like I was in a dream. I didn’t see my panties, and I didn’t really care. I shimmied into the dress, then tied the halter behind my neck. I was already zipping the back when Tyler came in.

“Sloane. Please. Don’t go.”

But I could only shake my head. I couldn’t stay. Not for Candy. Not for Amy. Not even for myself.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. And then I snatched up my purse and ran barefoot into the hall.

I stumbled blindly down the hall, then yanked open the door to the hidden staircase that led down to the ninth floor and the elevator that would take me back to the lobby.

At each turn I looked behind me, making sure that Tyler wasn’t back there. I told myself I didn’t want him to follow, and since he apparently wasn’t, I also told myself that was a good thing.

Somehow, though, I didn’t believe it.

The fear was fading now, the memories slipping back into the dark where they belonged. Exhaustion dogged me, physical and emotional. The whole night had been a whirlwind—of fear, of pleasure, of danger and desire.

In the end, the fear had overshadowed it all, but I couldn’t deny that these hours with Tyler had been so much more. More than I had expected. More than just the job.

He’d taken me to places I’d never been, and I’d felt a heightened desire that I’d never before experienced. But I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t give him what he wanted.

I knew damn well that Tyler was dangerous in so many ways, but I didn’t fear him in bed. No, it wasn’t the man I feared, but the door that he could open. A door that kept the memories and the dark things at bay.

A door I was determined to keep locked tight, and through which I dreaded even the smallest crack.

I waited impatiently at the ninth floor elevator bank, shifting my weight from foot to foot until the elevator finally arrived and I could collapse on the fainting couch and bury my face in my hands.

The ride down was quick, and no one else got on. I wasn’t surprised. I didn’t know the exact time, but I knew it was very late, and the only people wandering around a hotel at this hour were those, like me, doing a walk of shame.

I stood as the elevator doors slid open—then immediately sat down again in shock when I saw Tyler standing right there.

“But—how did you?”

“Service elevator,” he said, then stepped into the car, blocking my exit.

“I need to get out. I need to—”

“Sloane.” That’s it. Just my name, but it was so firm and so vibrant and so full of apology that it sounded to me like a seal of honor.

I melted a little. “Please, Tyler. I’m tired.”

He nodded to the couch. “Then sit.”

I thought about arguing, but wasn’t sure I had the strength. I felt sapped. Exhausted. And I wasn’t even entirely certain I was firmly rooted on the planet any more.

I sat, and as soon as the doors closed behind Tyler, he casually hit the button for the ninth floor, then immediately hit the button to stop the car from moving.

Only then did he turn to look at me.

“You should know that I’m a man who takes what he wants,” he began, as I looked down at my fingernails. “I always have, and I always will. No regrets, and no exceptions. No exceptions, that is, but one.”

He had my attention, and I lifted my head to find him looking hard at me. “And what is that?”

“I will never take from a woman what isn’t freely given, no matter how tempting that woman may be.”

“Don’t try to pretty it up for me.” I kept my voice low and dangerous. “You told me flat out there were things that you wanted in your bed.” I met his eyes. “Things you were more than willing to take. And, Tyler, you did try to take them.”

“Yes,” he said simply. “And no.”

“I’m tired,” I said. “I’m not interested in games or in riddles.”