Against the Odds Read online

  He was smiling with such wonderful affection as he looked at her, listened to her, she could have hugged him for it. “That sounded horribly bitchy,” she said.

  “But probably accurate. So, how did the writing start?”

  “Oh, I’d always kept journals, writing down every flight of fancy I had.” She shot him a saucy grin. “And you can’t imagine how naughty I was on paper.”

  Tucker cupped her hips to his and wiggled. “Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea.”

  She laughed and nipped at his lower lip. “Yes, well, I wrote all the time in my little New York apartment. And the journals became fantasies, the fantasies stories. It helped me deal with the loneliness of a new city, the lingering guilt of leaving my family and James like that, not that I had any real regrets. I just wished it could have been done a bit more smoothly.” She smiled. “And less publicly. It was writing that helped sustain me, my ideals, my decision to be my own woman.”

  “How did your journals go from the privacy of your bedroom to the local bookstore?”

  “It was a chance meeting with a client who happened to work for a small New York publishing house. To this day I don’t know what made me confess to her that I was a writer, but I did. She urged me to send her something. And, one night, on the eve of what would have been my second anniversary with James…I popped something in the mail to her before I could chicken out. The rest, as they say, is history.”

  Tucker took her chin and turned her face to his. “They should be proud of you. Your family. You’ve made yourself into a success, doing something you enjoy, which is a double reward. It’s their loss they can’t enjoy that, enjoy your happiness.”

  She didn’t know what to say. She’d thought the very same thing herself, but it was hearing someone else put it into words that finally had her truly believing it. “You are a knight, you know,” she said, brushing the softest of kisses on his lips. “Whether you want to believe it or not. And I’m glad you’re going to do what you want to do with your life, instead of what you thought life should do with you. Don’t you think your parents would have understood? That your friends will?”

  “Probably. Yeah.” He dropped one gentle kiss, then another, longer, deeper one, on her lips. “I think you’ve got some shiny armor on there yourself.”

  She grinned, inordinately pleased with the compliment. It was wonderful to think she could lend him the kind of support he so effortlessly supplied to her. “We knights of the realm have to stick together, you know,” she teased. It was that or give in to the need to reveal just how perilously close to being in love with him she’d become. A man she’d only just met. Maybe the poets were right, and the heart simply knew.

  He trailed his fingertips up her spine, leaving a sizzling reminder in its wake of what they’d been doing a short time ago. “I’ve got your back if you’ve got mine,” he said, eyes flashing with amusement…and desire.

  “Do you now,” she said, drifting easily back into a playful, sexual mood. “And what might your plans be for said back?”

  In answer to that, he leaned out, pressed a button that opened the intercom to the front of the limo. “Driver, the Bellagio, please.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I thought we were going to your hotel,” she said.

  “That would be fine. Except there’s a certain set of silk cords at your hotel that I need to complete my plan.”

  She shivered with anticipation. “And what plan might that be?” She could hear the tremble of excitement in her voice. From the grin on his face, so could he.

  He reached down and snagged the bag containing the other strands of beads. “We never did get to put these to their intended use.”

  She shuddered hard. “I thought you had to go back to the lab tonight.” No way did she want to get into something, only to have him remember he had to be elsewhere.

  “The equipment won’t be there till morning.” He jingled the bag. “So we have all night. And I plan to use every minute of it.”

  Misty wanted more than all night. She wanted forever. A plan of her own began to form, one she could put into motion while he was out solving crime tomorrow.

  But she’d deal with that when the morning came. Tucker was doing something wickedly interesting with his tongue and she couldn’t think quite straight.

  Sometimes, paybacks were heaven.

  13

  THERE WAS A MESSAGE waiting for Tucker by the time they retrieved their play toys from Misty’s hotel, and got back to his. “Not as fancy as yours,” he teased as he unlocked the door, “only one bathroom.”

  They both saw the blinking light on the phone at the same time.

  “You should see what it is,” she said, stopping beside him.

  The limo ride had been exhilarating, to say the very least, but Tucker’s thoughts were now exclusively on having Misty all to himself, in the privacy of his own room, for the rest of the day. And night. The last thing he wanted was an interruption. He pushed the door shut and turned so that his body blocked hers, then backed her up against the wall. “I don’t want to talk to anybody but you until tomorrow morning.”

  She pressed her palms against his chest. “What if it’s an emergency?”

  “Nothing can be as urgent as the plans I have for you.” Or the fact that the time we have left together is running out.

  She shivered at the dark promise in his voice, which only spiked his desire higher. He hadn’t missed how she’d reacted to his comment about having plans for the beads, the silk cords, back in the limo. She might have claimed she brought them to use on someone else, might have enjoyed her ride on top in the back of that limo…but given the type of “package” she’d all but admitted to signing up for at Blackstone’s…and how she’d reacted to him running the show in the stairwell, well, he suspected she’d envisioned those silk cords used on herself. He planned to find out.

  “Be that as it may,” she said, her voice catching as he took her hands, pinned them to the wall beside her head, “I’d rather you found out now, than when we’re…”

  The rest of her sentence was lost as he slid her hands higher and lined his hips up with hers, leaving no doubt as to how involved he intended to be in the plans he’d made.

  It was ridiculous how aroused she got him, and how little it took to do it. A lightly spoken word, a sardonic smile, a haughty whisper…and he was all but drooling to have her naked and beneath him. Or on top of him, as the case may be. Only this time it was his turn to be on top. Both figuratively and literally.

  She also had a point. Dammit. Once he began his erotic campaign to take her as he believed she wished to be taken…the last thing he wanted was an interruption. He dropped kisses along her jaw, beneath her ear, then nipped at the soft, white lobe. “Okay, but no matter what, we’re not going anywhere.”

  She turned her head, caught his gaze…and nodded.

  Looking into her eyes, leaving no doubt she was as aroused as he was, only stoked him further. Which was the only reason he went ahead with his plan, made his request. Or demand, as the case may be.

  He leaned in, pressed his lips to her neck, then very explicitly said, “I want you to pull that desk chair to the center of the room and sit in it.”

  When her pupils flared and she trembled, he realized she wasn’t the only one who wanted to pursue this fantasy. He’d never thought about this kind of role-playing, about dominating a woman, not like this anyway. If anything, especially given his day job, he’d want to be the one to give up control, let her have her way with him. What man wouldn’t?

  But the palpable tension that had grown between them since they’d entered the room had clearly only spiked higher in the silence that had followed his quietly given command. Now it was up to her. Did she want this particular fantasy realized? All she had to do was say no, and they’d play it however she wanted. She knew that his intention was only pleasure…for both of them.

  He held her gaze. “This only goes as far as you want it to,” he sa
id, unnecessarily he knew, when she nodded tightly. It pleased him in some elemental way that he did, indeed, have her trust. Even in this, especially in this, most vulnerable of fantasies. He vowed he’d do everything in his power to protect that trust, even as he did his level best to give her exactly what she desired. “But I’m going to push until you say stop.”

  She shuddered in response to that promise…and so did he.

  And after another moment of heart-pounding silence, he had his answer. She walked quietly over to the desk, and pulled out the chair. It had a high wood back, carved in an open swirling pattern. The seat was padded, the legs straight, thick and sturdy. She pulled it to the open area between the desk and the bed.

  “Face the window,” he instructed.

  She paused, but said nothing as she turned the chair as he’d asked. The light streaming in through the sheer curtains filtered through her light cotton dress, outlining her long legs and narrow hips. She looked up, caught him staring, then looked back at the chair…and sat, facing away from him. She didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands, but finally put them in her lap.

  He stood there a moment longer, behind her, wondering for a split second if this was an insanely stupid game to be playing. He respected her, he didn’t want to subjugate her. But as he crossed around the foot of the bed, brushing past her on his way to the blinking phone on the nightstand, he glanced down and saw her hands lay loose in her lap.

  Not fisted, not scared, or even particularly worried. He saw her chest was rising and falling more rapidly than her calm repose would indicate. Then he looked at her face…and saw the excitement banked in those passionate violet eyes of hers…and realized this wasn’t about subjugation. Much less fear of any kind. It was about suspense, about anticipation, about wondering what was going to happen next…and how exquisitely long he was going to draw things out. It was about giving up control, putting him completely in charge of their pleasure.

  It was as heady as it was intimidating. And it was that fact that leveled the playing field. After all, all she had to do was follow. It was up to him to be what she needed him to be.

  He picked up the phone, mind spinning as he punched the message button. He listened, quite distracted by the fact that there was a woman waiting very patiently behind him for his next command, as Mig explained that he’d need Tucker at the crime scene very early the next morning. He saved the message, then hung up, but didn’t turn back around to face her. She’d placed more then her trust in him. He knew without asking that she’d never exposed herself like this, revealed the depth of her needs, her fantasies, to anyone else. “Why me?” he asked quietly.

  Her very stillness told him she understood how important her answer was to him. After a long moment, she said, “Because you’ll take care.”

  Her answer undid him. Because that was the most important thing to him. To take care with her, give her everything she’d ever wanted, everything she’d never had. He also knew that fulfilling her sexual fantasies was only the bare surface of what he suspected she wanted, needed. He wondered if she had any idea how much he’d like to give her. Or of the man he found he wanted to be for her. If only she’d let him.

  But here was a place to start. And when it was over and this particular fantasy had been played out, then he’d start in on giving her the rest.

  “Slip off your shoes,” he said softly, but in a tone that brooked no argument.

  She sat up straighter then, understanding his signal that the play had begun. She held his gaze levelly as she toed off her sandals. And he fought the smile that threatened. So, despite the quiver of excitement that visibly chased over her, despite the vulnerable position she’d placed herself in…she wasn’t about to be some meek, mild follower of commands. Her direct gaze almost defied him to control her. He should have known, from what little he’d read of her work, that she’d make the game her own. The smallest of smiles flirted with the corners of her mouth, as if she was enjoying his realization that, despite their respective roles, they’d both work for what they wanted in this room tonight.

  He allowed his grin to surface, then, pleased to see hers falter, aroused to see her pull the corner of her lower lip between her teeth, suddenly a tiny bit unsure. He tossed the bag with the beads and cords on the bed, watched as she twitched a little at the rattling sound the plastic made as it hit the soft bedspread so close to where she sat.

  Her chest rose and fell at a rapid rate. He had to work to keep his even as he walked around the chair, looking at her, but not so much as brushing up against her. “Do you know how stunning you are?” he asked roughly.

  She kept her gaze straight ahead. “No.”

  He moved behind the chair, dropped to a crouch so his mouth was close to her ear. He heard her soft intake of breath, but she didn’t move, kept looking straight at the window. “You are. You totally captivate me.”

  She said nothing, kept her expression carefully blank.

  He found he wanted—badly—to get a response from her. “No woman has ever aroused me like you have. I’ve spent the greater part of the last three days either hard as a rock with wanting you, or wondering how long it will be before I’m hard for you again.”

  There was a slight catch in her breath, that he only heard because his lips were so close to her throat. “And I never have to wait very long.” He wanted to taste that sweet soft skin, as much as he’d ever wanted to taste anything, but first he wanted that response. He shifted to her other side, blew very gently against the curls that lay on her neck. “Unbutton your dress.”

  Her breath caught, held, then released in a slow, measured sound.

  “Now,” he said sharply, gratified when she twitched.

  Still, she didn’t look at him, didn’t in any way indicate she was aware of his proximity to her, or that she was aroused by it. It ground against his control, which he knew was precisely why she did it.

  Slowly, she lifted her hands, plucked open each button, taking her time, until the fabric fell open almost to her waist. She let her hands rest in her lap when she was done.

  He reached around her, very lightly ran his fingertips over the nipples pressing against the rose-colored silk. “I can’t wait to have these.” She shuddered at his touch, a shaky breath escaping through clamped lips. Then it was his turn to twitch. And throb. “But I will have them.”

  She made an obvious effort to straighten, square her shoulders, but was careful not to brush against him. He smiled…and ran the tip of his tongue along the shell of her ear. “I will have your control. One way or the other.” He reached for the bag, slid out one length of black silk rope. Kneeling behind the chair, he reached around with both arms, took her wrists, carefully, so as not to touch any other part of her, and pulled them behind the chair.

  “Cross your wrists.”

  She paused, and he saw her squirm, very lightly in the chair. It made him want to squirm, too. And rip off his pants, free what she’d already made so hard it ached.

  He wrapped the cord around her wrists, gently tying a knot so that the rope barely held her there without slipping off. It was enough, he knew.

  He stood, a powerful rush moving undeniably through him as he looked down at her from his now towering vantage point. It shouldn’t be such a turn on, he thought, fighting it. But it was all that, and more. Maybe because she was allowing him, rather than being forced…it was almost a greater capitulation.

  He moved around so that he faced her. She didn’t look up at him, staring through him instead. Still in control, he thought, despite their roles. Well, he’d see to that.

  He knelt again, right in front of her bare legs. “I want to see you,” he said, reaching for the front clasp of her bra. She couldn’t stop him, which somehow made baring her all the more darkly thrilling, but she didn’t look at him, didn’t react when he freed her breasts, slowly sliding the silk across her nipples. They were pebble hard, the only sign she was aroused, though he had no doubt she was as wildly turned on as he was.
Still, she controlled him.

  “I crave the taste of you,” he confessed, then slowly ran his tongue along his lower lip.

  She said nothing.

  He leaned in, extending his tongue toward one tightly budded nipple, but stopping the barest breath away from touching her with it. “Do you want me to taste you?” he murmured.

  He glanced up in time to see her chin tremble, but her lips remained flat…and closed.

  “The feel of your nipples under my tongue…I dream about that, about how responsive you are to my touch.”

  He could hear her breath grow more uneven.

  Again he leaned in, blowing a warm breath across one nipple, then the other. “Tell me to taste you, Misty.”

  She chewed the corner of her lip again, but said nothing. Her breathing grew more ragged.

  “I want to pull them into my mouth, lick them, suck them. It will make you wet for me. Make me want to taste more of you.” He blew across her skin again. “Tell me to taste you, Misty.” He leaned in, tongue extended.

  She shifted, just slightly forward, a brief moan escaping her lips when he pulled back.

  “Tell me.”

  She didn’t look at him, but she was trembling now. He could almost feel her skin vibrating.

  He started to pull away entirely, rock his weight back on his heels.

  “Taste me,” she said hoarsely, as if the words had been pulled from her. Still she kept her gaze straight ahead.

  He grinned even as his body tightened. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  Twin amethyst gemstones glittered as she stared straight ahead, lips pressed tightly together.

  But he heard her breath hitch as he slowly, so slowly, leaned in again, tongue out. He flicked the tip over one nipple, making her gasp, then tore a moan from her when, with no warning, he greedily took the other one fully into his mouth. She bucked in the chair, sliding forward.