He glared. “I know what the damn dog wants, I’m not an idiot. Contrary to what you must think of me, that is. You used your favor to keep me locked upstairs so I wouldn’t find out about this.” He took in her guilty expression. “You’re a good liar, Alexa. I guess I never knew how good.”
She stopped cowering, and pulled herself to full height in her bare feet. “I had to lie! I’m living with an animal hater who’d rather see innocent puppies in the gas chamber than mess up his house!”
Nick gritted his teeth and swore. “Don’t try to turn this around on me, woman. You never even asked, just snuck a bunch of dogs in my spare room. Did you see what they did to my house? And where’s my orange afghan?”
She threw back her head and made a frustrated wail. “I should have known you care more about your stupid possessions than a life! You’re just like the guy from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang—remember he used to lock away all the children so the city would be neat and clean and organized? Heaven forbid everything didn’t go exactly the way he wanted it. Let’s keep life tidy. Let’s make sure the orange afghan doesn’t get ruined.”
His temper teetered on the edge.
Then snapped.
His fists clenched and he let out a roar, which the dogs must have liked because they all started to howl at the same time and bounced around his feet in a whirl of fuzz and tails and paws.
“Chitty Chitty Bang Bang? You’re insane—you need to be locked up in the loony bin. Lie to me, wreck my house, then compare me to a children’s villain, all because you can’t be a normal person and take responsibility and apologize?”
She stood on tiptoes and got right in his face. “I tried but you’re being unreasonable.”
He reached out and gripped her upper arms. His fingers closed around something silky and he shook her slightly. “Unreasonable? Unreasonable? It’s the middle of the night and I’m standing in a room full of dogs, talking about a stupid movie!”
“It’s not stupid. Why couldn’t you be more like Ralph Kramden from the Honeymooners? Sure, he was loud and obnoxious, but he saved the whole shelter of dogs when he found out they would be destroyed. Why can’t you be more human?”
“The friggin Honeymooners, now? That’s it, I’ve had enough. You are going to pack up every one of those dogs and take them back to the shelter right now, or God help me, Alexa, I’ll get rid of them myself!”
“I won’t do it.”
“You will.”
“Make me.”
“Make you? Make you?” His fingers twisted around a wad of silky, satiny fabric as he fought for a shred of control. When the haze finally cleared his vision, Nick blinked and looked down.
Then realized his wife was naked. Her lime-green robe had slid down over her shoulders and now gaped open. Her sash slipped unnoticed to the floor. He expected to catch a glimpse of some lacy negligee made to incite a man’s lust. He got much more.
Jesus, she was perfect.
No fabric marred the endless curves of warm, gilded flesh. Her breasts were lush and made for a man’s hands, her nipples the color of a ripe strawberry that begged for a man’s tongue. Her hips formed the ancient hourglass figure artists based fantasies on instead of sharp bones that dictated the current fashion. Miles of long legs. A tiny scrap of fire engine red panties was the only thing that blocked his view.
The words died in his throat. His breath stopped, then rushed out like he’d been punched in the gut. She screwed up her face to keep yelling, but paused when she noticed the change in his expression. Nick knew the moment she realized her robe had dropped. Knew when the knowledge she was naked hit her full force. Watched her lips purse a small circle of horror right before sanity hit to make her reach for the robe.
Nick used his two-second time span to make a decision.
Her fingers started to yank up the material when he blocked her motion, lowered his head, and stamped his mouth over hers. Shock held her immobile and he used the time to his advantage. One quick thrust parted her plump lips and allowed him entry—entry to every slick, feminine heated corner of her mouth. Drugged on the taste of her, he circled her tongue with quick, urgent strokes, begging her to give it all back to him.
And she did.
Full power.
As if a tightly closed door opened under a sharp kick, Nick almost heard the shatter as their control broke. She opened her mouth and drank, then made her own demands as a low growl of hunger escaped her lips. He pushed her hard against the wall and challenged each thrust of her tongue, as her arms wrapped around his neck and her back arched. Her breasts tilted upward for full offering. His head spun as her flavor swamped his senses. His hands came around to cup her heavy breasts, his thumbs rubbed her tight nipples. He became mad for the feel and taste and sight of her. A mass of dogs swarmed around their ankles, their crazed barking just a secondary noise to the roar in his blood.
He tore his mouth from hers to sink his teeth into the delicate line of her neck. A shudder wracked her body, and he made a low murmur of satisfaction as he moved lower to feast on her breasts, his tongue delicately licking the tip, nibbling, while she squirmed against the wall and urged him on. His mouth opened over her and he fed, sucking hard on her strawberry nipple as his hands slid around her back to grasp the curve of her buttocks, forcing her hips up to cradle the length of throbbing, hard flesh begging for entry.
“Nick, I—”
“Don’t tell me to stop.”
He looked up. Her breasts were slick from his mouth, her nipples tight and aroused by his attentions. Her belly quivered. Swollen lips parted, allowing panted, ragged breaths to escape. Her eyes darkened to a deep, drowning blue as her gaze locked on his. A second passed as he waited. A moment. A century.
“Don’t stop.”
She pulled his head down and kissed him. He ravaged the flesh of her lips as if he was imprisoned and she was his last taste of freedom, felt himself sink into the depths of her body until…
“Police!”
The sound of sirens fought its way into the sensual world they created. The door banged with command—the flashing red alarms spun a whirl of color through the windows and into the hall. The barking of the dogs grew louder with the commotion.
He staggered back from her as if coming out of a long stupor. She blinked, then with almost mechanical movements reached for her robe. Nick turned and headed toward the door, disarmed the alarm, and let his hand pause on the knob.
“You okay?”
She shuddered but managed to speak. “Yes.”
He opened the door to a uniformed cop whose anticipation for trouble changed to suspicion. Nick’s drugged eyes and obvious arousal must have seemed suspicious, because the cop peeked down the hall to the robed woman and crowd of dogs about her feet. He holstered the weapon. “Sir, you reported a break-in.”
Nick wondered if this moment was about to challenge his most embarrassing. He pushed a hand through his mussed hair and grabbed for his usual, logical sequence of thought. “Right. I’m sorry, officer, there’s been a mistake. Please come in.”
He knew if he didn’t let him in it would look suspicious. The cop took the scene in with a glance and seemed to note the woman appeared willing and the dogs weren’t trying to protect her from a maniac. He tipped his head. “Ma’am.”
She swallowed hard. “Officer. Sorry about this.” As if she knew Nick was also a bit foggy, she attempted the explanation. “My husband thought someone was in the house but it’s all my fault. I hid these dogs in the spare room, hoping he wouldn’t find out, and they must have made some noise in the middle of the night and he thought it was an intruder.”
Nick closed his eyes.
Definitely an embarrassing moment.
He tried to interrupt. “Alexa, why don’t we just—”
“No, Nick, let me finish. You see, officer, my husband doesn’t like animals and I volunteer for the shelter so sometimes I take strays in and this time I didn’t want him to find out about it so I tried to sneak the dogs to a place he wouldn’t notice.”
The cop turned his head politely. “You didn’t notice a room full of dogs, sir?”
Nick ground his teeth in irritation. “She made me stay upstairs.”
“I see.”
“So, anyway, my husband heard the dogs and called 911 but when he tried to check the scene out himself he found the dogs and got mad and started yelling and I came down and we had a bit of a fight and then you showed up.”
The cop glanced at the bat on the floor. “Sir, you were trying to surprise a burglar with nothing but a baseball bat?”
Nick wondered why he suddenly felt like the one accused. He shrugged. “I called the cops but I figured I’d try to get the thug myself.”
“You don’t own a gun?”
“No.”
“I’d recommend next time you think there’s an intruder, call 911, lock yourself and your wife in a room, and wait for the police.”
Steam rose but he forced a nod. “Of course.”
The cop made some notes on his pad. “Ma’am, will you be okay tonight with the dogs?”
“Yes, we’ll be fine.”
“Then I’ll be on my way. Let me take some information for my report.” He took down the basics, then paused to pat the black lab on the head. A smile touched his lips. “Cute dogs. You’re doing a wonderful thing, Mrs. Ryan. I’d hate to see any of these animals put to sleep.”
She practically beamed up at him in her lime-green robe and ravaged, tangled hair. “Thank you.”
“Good night.” With a polite nod, he let himself out.
Nick shut the door behind him, then turned to face his wife.
Alexa wasn’t about to wait for his tidy explanations. She bet a long list of excuses hovered on the tip of his tongue. He’d been mad and lost control. Sleep deprivation caused him to reach for her and damn the consequences. Now the police had doused him with a jolt of cold water, he’d gone over the idea and decided it would not be in their best interests to sleep with each other. After all, it was in the contract. After all, this was a business marriage.
After all, this wasn’t real.
The sexual fog drifted away and left her with a dull, nagging pain. She looked upon the policeman as Fate—her Earth Mother finally stepping in to lend a helping hand.
“Alexa—”
“No.” She put up one hand and Nick went quiet, waiting. Alexa knew, right then and there, she had very dangerous emotions for Nicholas Ryan. Messy, real life feelings. She took the truth like a dose of bitter medicine and met the fact head on. If she slept with him, things would turn for her, and remain the same for him. She’d fall in love, and he’d have a good time. She’d be broken-hearted at the end of a year, and he’d walk away without a glance back. Another piece of information hit her like a knockout to the head.
If he asked, she’d go to bed with him.
She practically shuddered with shame. She had no control over her hormones when he touched her. She couldn’t even promise she’d never consider the opportunity in the future. But she knew one thing—the only way she’d go to bed with her husband was if he begged. She wanted him mad for her, hot and explosive and so horny just a touch would push him over the edge. Like tonight. But she wanted no more excuses of temper, or sleeplessness, or alcohol. She wanted straight out, fabulous, passionate sex with his head clear and his eyes on her. Not thinking about Gabriella. And not thinking about an end to celibacy.
