Wanton - Lori Foster

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indignant. “I’m not afraid of you.”

      She heard the smile in the way he answered. “Yes, you are.”

      “Well, only sometimes.” She sniffed once more and wiped her eyes on his T-shirt, keeping her face close so he still couldn’t look at her. She wasn’t ready to face anyone yet, not herself, certainly not him. “You try to make me afraid.”

      “No.”

      “Yes you do. You try to make everyone afraid.”

      His fingers tangled in her hair and began massaging her scalp. She still felt aroused, but now she felt sleepy, too, utterly drained and strangely protected. She hadn’t cried much since finding out her fiancé was a slimeball using her to hurt her family and hoping to get rich in the bargain. She’d refused to allow herself that luxury. But crying now had felt good, sort of cathartic and cleansing. She drew a slow deep breath, and ended up hiccuping.

      Alec kissed her temple. “Celia, why don’t you want to make love with me?”

      The way he said that made her want to throw him on the bed and do unspeakable things to his hard, gorgeous body. She started shaking again and he held her a little closer, lending his quiet support. Finally, unable to figure a way out of it, she shamefully whispered, “I’m not like most women.”

      That gave him pause and she could feel him thinking, coming up with so many ridiculous, off-base ideas. She shook her head. “I don’t mean…I’m not physically different. Well, that is…”

      “Just tell me straight out, honey. Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it.”

      A nervous, almost hysterical giggle escaped her tight lips. Oh, she had no doubt he’d love to deal with it. Raymond certainly hadn’t objected, though he’d occasionally taunted her with her weakness. After he’d been found out, Raymond had taken great pleasure in telling her how easy she’d been, how she’d offered no real challenge at all. Well, she would never be easy again, though Alec Sharpe surely did wear on her convictions.

      Her mind froze up with that ugly, painful thought and she jerked away from Alec’s hold, turning her back and making a zigzag, awkward path around the cluttered floor to the bathroom. She paused in the open doorway, keeping her back to him. “I want you to leave now.”

      Two seconds passed, and he said, “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

      She straightened her back and lifted her chin. He was right, after the way she’d just behaved with him, he deserved the truth. Her throat felt swollen from her recent crying jag, and her head pounded as she forced out the awful words. “I have a…a sexual problem.”

      Alec didn’t say a word. There was such complete suffocating silence that she couldn’t bear it. She darted into the bathroom and slammed the door, then leaned back against it and covered her face with her hands. Now he knew the truth. He’d likely leave in disgust, wanting nothing to do with her, and her chances of helping Hannah would diminish to almost zero. How could she help anyone else when she couldn’t even help herself?

      A hard pounding rattled the door, making her spring away with a short scream. She whirled, one hand clutching her heart.

      “Goddammit, Celia, open this door right now!”

      She stared, unable to even blink. He was angry?

      The door trembled again, threatening to splinter, as Alec hammered on it. She jumped back another cautious step.

      “I’m giving you to the count of two, then I’m opening the door my own way.”

      Celia gawked.

      “One!”

      He wasn’t going to give her much time to consider her options, she thought. But then, there was really only one option anyway. She reached for the doorknob.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      ALEC WAS SO MAD he could barely see straight. He opened his mouth to shout “two” and heard the lock click open. He propped his hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes, waiting for Celia to present herself. Ha, what did she think, that she could make a crazy statement like that and then just tell him to get lost? Fat chance.

      He figured Raymond Stern had something to do with her little bombshell revelation, and he regretted his noble decision to let the law have him. If he could go back and do things over, he would.

      “Get your butt out here, Celia.”

      Reluctantly she opened the door. Her face was ravaged, blotchy red from her tears and with makeup everywhere. His heart softened, making his entire system go on alert. Damn, but he would rather take a beating than see her cry. His jaw worked for a moment while he fought his natural instincts, to lift her in his arms, toss her on the bed, and prove she had not a single problem in the world. Hell, he wanted her so bad, they’d burn up the mattress in record time. And then he’d start on round two. He figured he could make love to her all night long and not get his fill. But judging by her expression, she wasn’t up to a sexual marathon at the moment. Right now, she needed him rational, not ruled by an overactive libido.

      He hadn’t had urges this strong since he’d been a teenager, and back then, he’d had his pick of girls to handle the problem. This time, though, he didn’t want anyone but Celia. And he’d wait—for just a little longer.

      He drew a long breath, reaching for a modicum of control, but unwilling to let her know what a strain it was. “I want you to take a shower and change.” There. That had sounded calm enough. Despite the fact that that damn dress she wore was keeping his need on a razor’s edge.

      She nodded her head, suspiciously submissive for the moment.

      “When you’re done,” he said, watching her closely, “we’re going to talk.”

      “I thought you wanted to leave right away.”

      “Later. Maybe even in the morning. For now, just get yourself comfortable, all right?” A thought struck him and he added, “Have you eaten? Are you hungry?”

      “No.”

      No what? No she hadn’t eaten or no she wasn’t hungry? He decided to make the decision himself, which was what he should have been doing all along. He’d order up some sandwiches and coffee, feed her, then get a few things settled with her.

      He sighed again. “Where are your clothes?”

      “In the suitcase in the closet.”

      She stood docile while he opened the case and yanked out jeans and a T-shirt, then handed them to her.

      “I need panties, too.” She wiped at her eyes with a shaking hand, removing some of the mascara that was smudged there. His heart thumped again, and that damn tenderness threatened to bring him to his knees. Turning back to the case he grabbed up a pair of pale pink nylon panties and thrust them at her. She sniffed, turned her back, and went into the bathroom without a word.

      As soon as the door clicked shut Alec thrust both hands into his hair and pulled. Christ, she was making him crazy. First fighting him tooth and nail, refusing to give so much as an inch, and now acting like an obedient child. He wasn’t at all certain which he hated worse. Celia was constantly taking him off guard; he thought she probably did it on purpose just so he’d never know how to react.

      He heard the water start, pictured her naked in the shower, and slammed one fist against his thigh.

      To keep his mind off bare, wet, feminine skin, he called and ordered room service. Even in such a rundown rat motel, they had an attached bar with a fairly varied menu and he ordered two sub sandwiches, a pot of coffee and pie. While he was waiting for that to be delivered, he called Dane.

      The line was answered on the second ring.

      “Yeah?”

      Alec

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