Chapter 36 #2
Annette said nothing to that. Carson selected the first floor. As the doors glided closed he watched the woman waiting on the opposite side of the car. A paradox. Definitely.
“How do you do it?” He had no business asking the question, but there it was. With all that was going on, with his career—his entire future—in the toilet, this should be the last thing on his mind.
“How do I do what?” Her steady gaze rested on his.
“Be so distant and cold, like in the interview today.” He studied her closely, too closely for his own comfort. “That night at the Tutwiler, you were hot and wild. Was that night just an act?”
She reached out and pressed the stop button on the control panel. The elevator car jolted to a halt between the third and second floors, but the doors remained closed.
She reclined against the wall and analyzed him a moment. “I play the part that’s called for in any given situation.”
Well, he’d asked for that one. “So you’re saying that when we had sex, you didn’t really want to, you just played the part.
Didn’t feel a thing, like you suggested.
” This was not the time for his bruised ego to enter the picture.
Or maybe he just needed a break from the escalating tension.
Either way, this was just one more indication of how out of control he was.
“That’s right.” Her frank tone left no room for speculation. “Don’t beat yourself up, Tanner. No man has ever given me an orgasm.”
He tamped down the incensed protest that was automatic. “And the lack of panties in today’s interrogation, was that part of getting into character?”
A ghost of a smile haunted her lips. “You should have recognized that one. It was a distraction tactic. Don’t you use a similar technique in the courtroom when you’re out of forthright options?”
Before good sense could stop him, he’d crossed to her side of the elevator.
“That’s one I haven’t used.” He braced a hand on either side of her, trapping her with his body.
As ludicrous as it was just now, there was one thing he had to know.
“So you felt nothing when we were together that night? Nothing at all.”
She tilted her head back and stared directly into his eyes. “You mean, when we fucked?”
“Yes, when we fucked.”
“Nothing, Mr. Deputy District Attorney. I turned that off a very long time ago.”
“Maybe,” he allowed. “And maybe you’re just protecting yourself.” He leaned in closer. “Maybe you’re afraid to feel something that personal.”
She laughed softly. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
He didn’t believe her. “I think you’re scared to death.”
She searched his eyes, his face. “I think you have something to prove.”
How the hell could she read him so well? “I have nothing to prove,” he lied.
She laughed. “You’re pissed because you couldn’t make me come. Get over it, better men have tried.”
“Why would I care? I did. That’s all that matters, right?”
“Then why are we wasting time discussing the issue?”
She was right. He had something to prove. The epiphany might not have been so profound had it not occurred to him in the middle of his entire life being turned inside out.
The bottom line was, he needed to get past this. And there was only one way to do it.
Before good sense could kick in, he reached down and hiked up the hem of her skirt.
Hoisted her up against his chest and wrapped her legs around his waist. Need rushed through him, making his heart pound, making his breath ragged.
“I’ve wanted to do this again since the first time you crossed your legs in that interview room. ”
“Then why don’t you shut up and do it. For the good it’ll do you.”
He kissed her hard. “Oh, you’ll feel me.” His fingers jerked at his fly. He rammed into her. Her body tensed. Oh yeah. She felt that. He thrust deeper.
Desire erupted inside him. He resisted. He would not come before her. By God, not this time.
Harder, deeper, faster. He ground his pelvis into hers. Her breath caught. “Felt that, didn’t you?”
“Felt what?” She looked straight into his eyes and smiled. “Give it up, Tanner. You’re going to fail. As difficult as that concept is for you to comprehend, there’s a first time for everything.”
“Come, damn you,” he growled, pumping harder, deeper.
She made a sound, not quite a whimper. “Not going . . . to happen,” she stammered.
Her halting words urged him on. “Oh, yeah, you’re going to come this time.”
“Dream on.” She gasped.
He watched her face. That cold mask had slipped just a little, revealing the struggle her mind fought with her body. He was winning.
He reached between them and massaged that sweet spot. She squirmed in his arms. His mouth closed over hers and he kissed her long and deep, sucked on her lips, all the while keeping up the rhythmic pumping, the rubbing of that hot button.
She tried to push him away. “Damn you!”
He didn’t let up. Her eyes opened wide in surprise. He slowed down the pace, wanted her to enjoy the charge of sensations.
“Noooo!” She pounded his back. “Faster.”
He flexed his hips. Gave her what she wanted.
She came with the same fervor that she did everything else. The scream muffled between their kisses sent him over the edge. The release left him weak in the knees and suffering from a vulnerability he had never before experienced.
What the hell was wrong with him?
She trembled as she pushed at his chest, lowered her feet to the floor, and shoved her skirt back down.
He tugged at his own clothes, the air raging in and out of his lungs, his pulse pounding as if he’d run ten miles.
When he looked up, she would not meet his gaze.
The ice bitch had thawed.
He looked away . . . couldn’t bear to see the result.
The elevator car jerked into motion.
By the time it stopped on the lobby level they both faced the doors, ready to escape the scene of the crime.
They walked silently to her car, her one step ahead. Got in simultaneously.
He wanted to say something. Wanted to revel in his victory.
But he couldn’t bring himself to do either. He’d beaten her at her own game.
There was just one sticking point . . . at what cost to her?
To him?
His cell buzzed, breaking the choking tension.
He dragged it from his jacket pocket. “Tanner.”
It was Elizabeth. She wanted him to come over right away. She was frantically worried about her mother. The pain and grief in her voice tortured him.
There was no question now . . . he was crazy. Stark raving.
“I’ll be right there.”
He backed out of the parking slot and rolled toward the street. “That was Elizabeth. She needs me. I can ask about Dane while I’m there.”
Annette didn’t respond.
She didn’t have to. He understood. He’d stripped away the tough veneer that protected the fragile woman beneath.
A picture of her as a twelve-year-old child left alone and defenseless, beaten and abused, consumed him.
Annette Baxter had been fighting her way through life ever since.
Had been fighting for survival, most of the time against men.
He stopped at a red light. His mind did the same.
What did that make him?