Skin Tight

CHAPTER 12

Mia tried not to show her astonishment.

She’d never had that effect on a man in her life, let alone one so cosmopolitan. But she’d barely touched her lips to his skin, and he arched up. Now he lay with his forearm over his eyes, as if to block out the sight of her. She slipped from the bed and returned with a hand towel. After wiping away the evidence, she lay down beside him, near enough that he could touch her if he wanted, far enough that he didn’t have to.

He was the most puzzling man.

“Well,” he said at last. “That was humiliating.”

“I take it as a compliment.”

At that he rolled onto his side, facing her. “Do you?”

She nodded. “You’re very good for my ego.”

“Then clearly, that’s why I did it. I was indulging you.” Did she spot a spark of self-directed amusement in his eyes?

“I appreciate your consideration,” she said solemnly.

“Anytime you need such a boost, you’ve only to let me know.” He reached out as if he wasn’t sure he had the right, his palm curving with the line of her cheek.

Mia closed her eyes, overwhelmed by the sweetness of it. “You make me feel as though nothing else matters.”

“I don’t want it to. Not tonight.”

He skimmed his hand down her throat to her shoulder, shaping the line of her arm. Pleasure sang in her nerve endings; it was different this time. Perhaps because he’d lost the sharp edge of desire, tenderness trickled in to fill the gaps. He caressed the swell of her hip, the bend of her knee, and Mia shifted, her arousal growing in tandem with his gentleness.

This man was such a study in contrasts. The way he’d taken her that first time, she would never have imagined he could touch her like this. Now he stroked the sweet curve of her inner thighs. Mia took the cue and parted for him, feeling her body grow damp with anticipation. Openmouthed, he nuzzled her shoulder, working his way down to her breast. He licked the tip in a slow circle, and she ached for more.

She laced her fingers in his hair, glorying in the fact that she could touch him. Without being told, she knew how rare this was for him. He didn’t let women do this. Mia imagined him thrusting into a series of bodies, taking release with precious little pleasure. Primitive denial nearly blinded her; she didn’t want him touching anyone else ever again. Which should have sent her scrambling from the bed.

Instead, she closed her eyes, giving herself over to him. His lips tugged at her taut nipple, grazing teeth nipped and nuzzled. With clever fingers, he brought her to the brink time and again, until she sobbed with the need for relief. Then he kissed her, lips warm and luscious. His tongue surged in her mouth, stealing her cries, when he finally let her come. The orgasm shook through her until she couldn’t get her breath. Afterward, she nestled into his side, boneless.

To her surprise, he gathered her close and buried his face in her neck. “I don’t have this. I never have this,” he whispered, as if he might be dreaming.

“There’s something I’d like very much.”

He tensed. “What?”

“To know your name,” she hastened to add. “I swear I won’t do anything with it. But it would mean a great deal to me to know who you are when I hold you like this.” Mia pressed a kiss against his jaw, hoping to soften him.

She didn’t think he’d tell her. Physical closeness set the boundary, and it didn’t include further intimacies. To hide her hurt, she laid her face against his shoulder and breathed him in.

And then, unbelievably, he said, “Søren.”

“Sirren?”

A shudder worked through him.

“Close enough.” He inhaled slowly. “Say it again?”

Bemused, Mia complied. “I’ve never heard that before. It’s Danish,” she guessed, remembering what he’d said about being born in Copenhagen.

He nodded. “Without my surname, you’ll discover nothing else. It’s safe enough.”

“I won’t even look,” she said, stung. “I promised.”

His body eased against her, reminding her she was lying naked with a man whose real name she’d only just learned. Still, it was progress. Not long ago she would’ve put money on never learning this much about him.

“I’m sorry. Force of habit.”

“Considering everyone an enemy?”

“Yes.” His unadorned answer made her sad.

“I’m not your adversary. Forget what I said before.”

The war had been waged inside her, and she’d made her decision. She wouldn’t break her promise to him for some petty revenge, not when she’d wanted him almost from the first moment she saw him. It strained credulity that she could be with him now, like this, his sleekness tousled from her hands, his gaze shimmering with warmth, like sunlight on ice. Søren smoothed a hand over her hip, and Mia gave a lazy smile, sliding her leg over the top of his.

“That means… a great deal to me. Understand that I can’t reciprocate much, but…” He paused, sweetly sheepish. “I find I want to know everything about you.”

“Really? Well, I grew up in Minnesota, a small town called Pine Grove. My parents weren’t well off and… they were always fighting. My mother met my father while she was traveling in Iran. She was a photojournalist. They fell in love. He came with her back to America, but she wouldn’t marry him. She was… a feminist.” Mia turned her face against his chest, knowing each word would feel like a kiss. “My father was… old world in many of his beliefs. It drove him crazy that she wouldn’t take his name.”

His fingers threaded through her hair, careful and tender. “I don’t imagine that ended well.”

She shook her head. “After years of fighting, my dad gave up and went back to Iran. My paternal grandfather calls me his son’s child of shame.” Mia didn’t like remembering, but folded in his protective embrace, those memories lost much of their sting. “I spent a summer in Iran when I was thirteen. My dad wanted me to understand my ethnic heritage. I’m sure he meant well.” Surely, he couldn’t have known how she’d be treated there.

“It changed you.”

Mia inhaled. She couldn’t speak of how she’d been made to feel. “Yes. I never took my freedoms for granted anymore.”

“No,” he said soberly. “I suppose you would not. Were you close to your mother?”

“No.” She tried not to sound bitter. “As it turns out, she wasn’t cut out for motherhood. Being tied to one place made her angry. She loved to travel, and each time she looked at me, she saw the anchor holding her in place.”

So she drank. But she wasn’t going to tell him that.

A long silence built. At first she thought she must be boring him, but when she eased back to gaze into his face, she saw a quiet storm building. “I have no time for those who don’t value their children,” he said tightly. “Nor compassion, either.”

Whoa, I hit a nerve. Mia filed that tidbit away for later scrutiny. Right now, she was enjoying his protective instinct. That response told her a great deal.

“I don’t talk to her much.” Not since she got out of rehab three years ago and came to give me a perfunctory apology, part of her steps. “She’s on the move constantly. Last I heard, she was in Kazakhstan, chasing a story.”

“Let me guess the rest. With your brilliant mind, you earned a scholarship and sent yourself to college with no help from anyone.”

Mia ducked her head. “Not quite. My dad sent me money for expenses, but I invested in stocks instead and took a part-time job in the university bookstore. Once I got out of school, those dividends gave me the capital I needed to go into business as a forensic accountant without first working for another firm.”

His expression pleased her to the point of absurdity. “You are… exceptional.”

“No,” she denied. And then: “Well, maybe a little.”

“Where did you go to college?”

“Carlow. It’s in Pittsburgh.”

“I was expecting one of the Ivy League schools.”

Mia shook her head. “In my opinion, they’re a bit overpriced.” She shifted, running her fingers down his chest. His intake of breath did wonders for her ego. “You said you can’t reciprocate much. Surely there’s something you can tell me.”

“My parents,” he said, after a moment’s thought. “They were fantastic. They taught me the importance of keeping your word and working hard.”

“What happened to them?”

His level look said he couldn’t-or wouldn’t-answer. Instead, he said wonderingly, “I didn’t plan this. I don’t think I could have planned for you.”

“Good to know I’m not predictable.”

“And the truly amazing part is, I want you again.”

Her lips twitched. “I noticed. I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“How remarkably discreet of you.”

“You know we still can’t-”

“I know. I’ll be prepared next time.”

Next time? Mia’s eyes widened as he kissed his way down her stomach. Oh, God, he was going to kill her. But she’d die smiling.

Søren knew he was becoming obsessed with her. He’d watched her sleep for the last hour, stroking her hair. Get up, he told himself. Go. But he couldn’t make his muscles obey with her cuddled against him. Nothing had felt so good for years. Her quiet breathing lulled him, and before he realized it, he broke his last rule. He slept.

The sun beat down on him as he walked, sweat trickling down the small of his back. Overhead the sky blazed blue. He could see the white house where they lived from here, its green shutters brightening the place up. The paint had been Lexie’s idea. Since she’d been so quiet after her mother died, he had a hard time telling her no these days. Forest green shutters seemed like a small thing to give a kid who had lost so much. They’d also painted her room a rosy pink, and he’d stenciled strawberries in a border around the walls.

It was a nice neighborhood, where children could safely play in the front yards. In the distance, he heard the tinny tune of the ice cream truck, two blocks away. Kids gathered on their front porches, change clutched in their grimy hands.

Today, he was coming back from the post office after mailing off another round of résumés. Things were tight-there never seemed to be enough money to fix things up the way he wanted. But he kept the electricity on and food on the table and managed to pay the neighbor, a stay-at-home mom with two kids of her own, to look after Lexie while he worked. Whitney let him use play dates to run errands; otherwise, he’d have to drag Lexie everywhere with him, which he wouldn’t mind, but it wouldn’t be fun for her.

After paying postage, he had two dollars cash left until his next payday. Fortunately, the bills were paid, and they had food in the house. Lexie was good about not asking for toys constantly; she seemed happy enough with his undivided attention. In the evenings, they played Chutes and Ladders or Candy Land. Afterward, he whipped something up for dinner; tonight he was thinking macaroni and cheese, fortified with tuna and peas-what his mother called a poor man’s casserole.

Then they took their plates to the couch to watch TV together. His wife had always insisted they eat at the table, which was why he’d switched it up. The loss didn’t trouble him as much; he’d lost her long ago. But for Lexie, the grief was fresh, and he tried to spare her the reminders.

He spotted his daughter from half a block away. She’d just come out Melissa’s front door with their neighbor’s girls. Sunlight glinted off her light brown hair, finding the golden strands. Happiness swelled inside him. Because of her, he had purpose. He had a place he belonged.

The tinkling of the truck sounded closer now. His little girl turned. “Lexie, no!”

No, no, no, no-

“I’m coming, Daddy! I knew you’d get ice cream.” Expectations shaped by his curse and the distant tinkle of bells, she ran toward him, smiling. Straight into the path of an oncoming car.

This time, he strangled the scream. Cold sweat poured off him as he lay there, trembling. Reliving the accident. My fault. No matter how much he wanted it to be otherwise-no matter how much he wanted to lay all the blame on the people who’d changed him-he could not escape his own culpability. There would be no more sleep tonight. He should’ve known better, particularly with his emotions roused; nothing protected him better than detachment.

Still shaking, he slid from the bed and tugged on his boxers. Mia stirred, reaching a hand toward the warm spot where he’d been, but she didn’t awaken. Just as well-he wasn’t equipped to deal with her. He didn’t even think he could drive.

Work would calm him, keep the ghosts at bay, and he’d promised he’d assist in her search for the thief. He’d come a long way from that single father, barely making ends meet. He had new skills and resources now-and he’d give them all up if he could bring Lexie back.

He couldn’t.

So he sat down with Mia’s files and went through her notes. The sooner he got her out of Micor, the better. She played hell with his concentration and made him wish for impossible things. But he’d learned his lesson, and he wouldn’t repeat old mistakes.

Søren guessed her password on the third try and commandeered her laptop, account numbers in hand. He didn’t expect to find anything on her suspects, but it was best to be thorough. He had someone else in mind, anyway. Within an hour, he’d peeked into their private bank records, and none of them had anything suspicious going on. With the exception of the woman who lived outside her means and carried a staggering amount of credit card debt, they all looked clean.

Nothing about Micor would be easy, not even catching an embezzler. If he hadn’t been so frustrated, he would’ve looked on the place as a challenge. As it was, he simply wanted to finish what he’d started. It had been six long years, and he was… tired. He dug the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to rub out some of the grit. Her voice startled him, giving him an unsettling estimate of how much his guard had slipped.

“Can’t sleep?”

These hours before dawn were the most dangerous. He didn’t want to turn, wasn’t sure he could handle her right now. Something made him swivel on the office chair, and his stomach clenched. She was gorgeous. Tousled, touchable, and wrapped in his shirt. She’d only fastened the middle buttons. The sight filled him with wildly inappropriate proprietary impulses. He also found himself mesmerized by the contrast between the fabric and her sun-kissed skin.

“I rarely do,” he managed to answer, though his mouth had gone dry.

She blinked at that. “Night after night? That’s some serious insomnia.”

“I am aware,” he said dryly.

“It’s amazing you look so good, then.”

He couldn’t help but smile at her chagrin. “Are you complimenting me?”

“I didn’t mean to, but… it seems so.”

Søren took a ridiculous amount of pleasure in the fact that she liked the look of him. In anyone else, that might have seemed shallow or even vain, but he’d never experienced the like. Women were never attracted to him, not his body or his mind. He was always a shadow cast in someone else’s image.

“Thank you,” he said.

She seemed puzzled, but she shook it off, passing the island where he’d been working to pull two mugs out of the kitchen cupboard. Then she rummaged. “I can make hot milk, instant hot chocolate, or tea. Pick your poison.”

“Tea. What kind did they leave you?”

“You’re so sure I didn’t pack my own.”

“You don’t seem like a tea toter.”

Her dark eyes flashed in appreciation. “Looks like Sleepy-time herbal. Mmm.”

“I bet it tastes like thistles and wormwood.”

She put the kettle on, easy and graceful, as if they’d done this a hundred times. “That’s how you know it’s good for you.”

He found himself smiling for no reason. “You sound like my mother.”

“She must be a woman of remarkable good sense.”

“She is.” After he spoke, he realized he’d confirmed that his family was still alive. That should alarm him, but he couldn’t dredge up the usual paranoia. Not for Mia.

They stood in companionable silence while the water boiled. Then she filled the cups, sending a citrus-scented steam rising in the room. She added a packet of sweetener to each and let the tea steep. He found himself watching her, starved for the sight of a woman going about such small tasks.

Mia circled around behind him. Søren tensed from long habit and tried to spin to keep his eyes on her, but her hands caught his shoulders. He flinched from the heat of her palms, his muscles tight.

“Here’s the deal.” She spoke into his right ear, making him shiver. “I’m going to rub your back, and you’re going to drink that tea. At the end of ten minutes, you’re coming back to bed. Do you want to argue with me?”

He might’ve, except her hands felt like heaven. She worked him over, kneading with a care that felt as though it would melt him from the inside out. Søren shook his head mutely and drank the tea. The ragged edges of his nerves settled.

By the time she finished and his cup was empty, he felt inclined to say yes to anything she asked. Fortunately, she only took his hand and tugged him back toward the bedroom. Against his better judgment he drew her into his arms.

This wasn’t about sex anymore. It was a lot more complicated.

Their legs tangled as she slid an arm across his waist. The last thing he knew, she was stroking his hair, and then, against all precedent, he slept for the second time that night.

This time, she awoke him with her muffled cries. Søren snapped to full wakefulness, assessing the situation in a single glance. His heart sank as he realized he could guess what she was dreaming about from her position on the bed. He woke her with a gentle touch on her shoulder, whispering in her ear.

To his surprise, she clung to him, damp with sweat.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and meant it.

“It’s so stupid. So I was tied up. Nothing happened. I wasn’t hurt. I shouldn’t be having these dreams.”

Nightmares, he thought, but he didn’t say it aloud.

“But it made you feel helpless.” He hadn’t realized before, but for a strong woman like Mia, few things would be more horrifying than an utter lack of control over her circumstances. “I wouldn’t have bound you before if-”

“That was different,” she cut in. “I chose to be there with you, like that.”

Yes, choice made all the difference.

“I won’t do that to you again,” he promised. “Leave you with no say.”

“I can’t absolve you. But I will forgive you.” Her dark eyes held the heat of a thousand starlit galaxies.

“Thank you.” He gathered her close and stroked her hair until she fell asleep again.

It felt good to ameliorate the harm he’d inflicted, even in a small way, so Søren kept watch over her deep into the night.