His gaze held hers. Rage boiled in his stare. Lust.
Fear?
“Christie…”
She rolled her hips beneath him as she tried to find a better position. Then his hand was stroking her, pressing in just the right spot. His mouth went to her neck, and when his tongue licked her beneath her ear, a moan slipped past her lips and the tension eased away from her body.
This was Jonas. She could trust him. He’d keep her safe. Give her pleasure, always.
He withdrew. Thrust deep again. Still hard, still wild, but she was ready for him. Her hands held tight to his shoulders. The bed shook beneath them. The headboard banged into the wall.
More. Harder. Deeper.
His teeth pressed lightly against her throat. His hands caught her legs, and he lifted them high, even as he drove into her. Again and again.
The orgasm hit her, sweeping over her on a fierce wave of pleasure that had her tensing and digging her fingers into his flesh. His head shot up and he stared down at her with eyes that blazed too bright.
Too much lust. Too much need.
“Christie…” He took her mouth. Kissed her as he came.
She held him as close as she could and felt the frantic, thudding beat of her heart.
Her heart…or his?
In the aftermath, they didn’t speak. He pulled away from her, when she wanted to hold him close. But they were just about sex, right? Not emotions. Just sex.
So why was she blinking back tears when he withdrew from her? Why was she swiping those teardrops away as fast as she could while he was in the bathroom?
She pressed her damp hand against the bed, trying to wipe away the evidence, and she hurriedly slipped under the covers. The sex had been intense. Almost too intense. The climax had hit her when she hadn’t expected that much pleasure. It had dug through her, hollowing out her body until she felt like only a thin shell remained.
The lights clicked off, and the room plunged into darkness. She was grateful for the darkness then. It was so easy to hide in the shadows.
Was that why Jonas had turned off the lights?
The bed dipped when he climbed in beside her. She wanted to roll toward him, but—yes, dammit—fear held her back.
He reached for her instead, smoothing his fingers down her arm. “Did I hurt you?”
What? “No, of course not!”
“I was rough, I shouldn’t have—”
She rolled toward Jonas and grabbed him. “You didn’t break me. You didn’t even bruise me.” But she might have bruised him. There at the end, she’d held on as tightly as she could.
His hand broke from hers, and his fingers traced her cheek. Her breath caught. No, don’t let him feel—
“Were you crying?” His voice was gruff. “Jesus, Christie, I did hurt you!”
“Has anything ever felt so good,” she asked him slowly, “that it made you cry?” The pleasure had been that intense. So intense she hadn’t wanted it to end. She’d just wanted more.
“There haven’t been a lot of good things in my life lately,” he told her. His lips pressed against her cheeks as he kissed away the tear tracks. “Not until now,” he murmured, and her breath caught.
No, no, he couldn’t mean what she thought. Just sex. “I was worried about you.” It seemed safe to make the confession in the dark.
Silence. Tension hummed in the air. “No need, baby. It’s my job. I take down killers every day.”
But not killers that hit so close to home. Suddenly, she wanted to break through his shell and force him to open up to her. “I know what happened.”
“Yeah”—he slid away from her—“an asshole high on drugs shot his wife and then turned the gun on himself when the cops showed up. A wasted—”
“I don’t mean today.” Her tongue felt too thick in her mouth, and her heart still beat too fast. “I mean…b-before…with y-your parents.” Of course, the stutter would be back. No way to hide her nerves.
The silence was painful. Then he rolled away, fast, and light exploded in the room when he hit the lamp.
He stared down at her, naked, eyes narrowed. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Good thing she’d already pulled up the sheet. “I-I know what happened to your family.” And how hard today must have been. So hard that when you came back—
“How?” he bit out.
Ah, now this part was dicey. “Jonas—”
“Did you call Daniel when I left? Did he tell you that shit about—”
“I’ve never talked to Daniel about this.” She took a breath, a deep one. No stutter.
“Then how did you find out? Who’ve you been talking to?”
She tucked the covers around her legs. “I found out over ten years ago. Right after you discovered that Ben was a gold digger.” Her shoulders lifted and fell in a shrug that was anything but careless. “You tore into my life, so—”
“So you thought it was only fair to tear into mine.” He spun away and yanked on his jeans. “Dammit, I did that to protect you! Your father and brother asked for my help! I’d just started working as a cop, we were all worried—”
“I know.” But back then, she’d only been angry. Hurt. Humiliated. The family had bought off her lover. They hadn’t tried to talk to her, they’d just tried to run her life.
Not anymore.
“How?”
She blinked. “It wasn’t hard, Jonas.” Everything was public record. “I knew you’d been born in Athens, Georgia. I just searched through some of the newspapers online and tried to find a reference to you.”
“Because you wanted some payback?”
Because she’d wanted to know him. “I saw a clipping about their deaths. A picture of you at the funeral.”
He stopped pacing near the foot of her bed. “All this time, you’ve known?”
She gave a quick nod.
“Why didn’t you say something?”
I didn’t know what to say. Sorry just didn’t seem to cover the situation. “Why didn’t you?” she asked instead, her voice soft.
The laugh that came from him held no humor. “We already covered that you and I didn’t talk much.” He strode closer to her. “You knew and you still came to me?”
She
