Page 87 of Close Pursuit

“There’s nothing to be scared of,” she said matter-of-factly. In her experience with terrified patients, if she sounded like there was something to be scared of, no matter how hard she tried to convince them not to be afraid, she would fail.

“I will not be trapped!” he exclaimed. Away he went again, pacing the length of the spacious room.

“Okay,” she said reasonably. “Who’s trying to trap you?”

Her question stopped him cold. He stared at her like she was crazy. “Your CIA. My father and the FSB.”

“Who else?”

“What do you mean?” he demanded.

“Well, there’s obviously me. Who else?”

He frowned. “You admit to trying to trap me?”

“Not at all. I’m trying to understand whoyouthink is trapping you.” She threw her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. She wished she could go to him. Hold him. But she highly doubted he would let her touch him right now.

He threw up his hands in frustration.

She kept her voice light as she said, “I think it’syoutrapping you.”

He turned to stare at her. “How’s that?”

God, she wished she could read him better. But he’d gone still, his face a mask. His voice gave away nothing. Was he angry? Surprised? Upset?

“You’ve built so many emotional walls to hide behind, so many rules to live your life by, that you’ve practically paralyzed yourself.”

“Wouldn’t you build walls in the same situations I lived through?”

She sincerely hoped not. “I’m not you, so what I would do doesn’t matter. You did what you had to in order to survive. And you made it. Here you are.”

“I don’t need psychotherapy,” he announced.

“Of course you don’t. You need more sex.”

That threw him. He looked over at her, startled.

Suddenly, his need for control in bed made perfect sense. He was desperately seeking control of his life. Look at how badly he’d reacted when she took control of their lovemaking and took it to an emotional place not of his choosing. No matter how badly he craved the affection and caring she shared with him, he couldn’t allow himself to accept it if it wasn’t of his taking.

“Go ahead, Alex. Make me beg. Do whatever you want to me. I dare you.”

That dark fire flared in his eyes again, and the hurt little boy retreated, leaving behind the dangerous man who made her breathing speed up and her heartbeat go wonky.

“You really do like to live dangerously, don’t you?” he murmured.

“Show me how dangerously,” she challenged him.

He stalked her slowly, panther-like. An urge to bolt shivered through her, but she ignored it and stood her ground. He needed this.

Alex stopped in front of her. Reached out slowly and took the low neck of her silk gown in both hands and gave it a violent yank. She jumped as the fragile silk ripped apart, tearing all the way down her front and falling away from her body in shreds.

He moved aggressively, grabbing her wrists and backing her up against the wall, her arms yanked high over her head. His thigh jammed between hers, forcing her to open her legs and ride his thigh whether she liked it or not. His head bent to her neck and he bit her on the shoulder.

She cried out and arched into him, shocked at how attracted she was to his aggression. Thing was, he still hadn’t hurt her. Well, the bite hurt a little, but just enough to be sexy.

He lifted her right leg and draped it around his hips, then he rammed into her, filling her with his heat and hard length. He slammed her higher against the wall and she stood on tiptoe. But then he yanked her left leg out from under her, forcing her to cling to his shoulders and wrap her legs tightly around his waist while he supported her bottom with both hands.

The position left her completely vulnerable to him. He slammed into her again, filling her and stretching her almost to the point of pain. She had no defense against his invasion, and he took full advantage of it, thrusting again and again into her.

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