Wicked Pleasure

Then in a burst of anger, she scooped it up, smoothed it out, opened her briefcase, and furiously shoved it inside.

“You’re so dead, Cameron Falladay,” she snarled, shaking with anger as she stood naked, her body still sensitized by his touch and sated by his possession of her. “You are so fricken dead.”

Jaci jerked her cell phone from the desk and hit Courtney’s number. It was late. Too late to be calling, but she was burning inside, furious.

“Jaci?” Courtney’s tone was concerned, and faintly drowsy, when she answered. “What’s wrong?”

Jaci looked at the clock. It was after one in the morning.

“I’m sorry.” She blinked back angry tears. Hurtful tears. “It’s too late to call.”

“No, don’t hang up. Just a second.”

There was murmuring, the sound of Ian’s voice in the background, then silence.

“He left you, didn’t he?” Courtney retorted moments later, her tone irritated now. “I’ve heard rumors he does such things, but I never believed he would be so insane as to do this with you.”

Jaci shook her head. She shouldn’t have called. She pushed her fingers through her hair, grimacing at the unfamiliar need to just talk.

“I don’t know what to do,” she finally whispered, knowing there was no one else she could talk to, no one else who could come even close to understanding this problem. “The sharing.” She shook her head again. “The pleasure is incredible, Courtney. But I need more.”

“We are women.” Courtney sighed. “The need to be held is as strong as the need to be possessed.”

Jaci moved back to the bed, pulled the comforter around her, and stared into the darkness.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” she said then. “I should have learned my lesson when I was twenty-one. Cam doesn’t want to be a lover, Courtney. When am I going to accept that?”

“Jaci, dear, Cam is your lover already,” Courtney stated. “The possessiveness burns in his eyes. The need for more will resolve this. You have only to press the right buttons within him.”

“He has buttons?” She sniffed. “I haven’t found them.”

And then, she heard the sound of a diabolical little laugh. Grown men were known to flinch at that sound. It was soft and sweet, filled with knowledge and with wicked, certain purpose.

“Ah, my friend,” she drawled then. “Shall I tell you about the buttons such men possess?” Her voice lowered. “Take notes now dearest, because trust me, there are buttons and then, there are buttons. And for this man, who I know has never looked at a woman as he looks at you, for as long as I have known him, he would have many, many buttons.”

Jaci breathed in roughly. “Games,” she whispered. “I hate playing games.”

“Not games, Jaci.” She could almost see Courtney’s frown. “This is no game. It is a war, my friend. And you must learn the rules or he will walk over your heart and bleed you to death. You know your lover, you know what you need. Fight for this, Jaci. Fight for his love.”

The foreign flavor of her friend’s voice soothed, softened.

“Do not worry.” Courtney laughed then. “I intend to help you in this.”

And this time, it was Jaci that flinched.

13

Here was the problem with becoming involved with a man a woman thought she knew. There were all those tangled memories, times when there was tenderness, times when there was anger. There was the memory of adrenaline coursing in those first stages of attraction. The memory of the man, who had always been dark but who had watched her in a way he hadn’t watched other women. Even though she hadn’t been fully a woman. And there was the memory of Cam’s “buttons.”

And there was the memory of the times when she had been so pissed with him that she could have kicked him. Each time he had dragged her from a party, each time she had learned he had warned a particularly wild boy away from her. Damn him, every time he had looked at her with those eyes of his full of the silent promise that one day she would belong to him.

And there was the memory of certain “buttons.” Certain ways of ensuring Cam’s attention, of pricking at the male instincts she had sensed he had. Ways of making certain he noticed her, that he came to her, that he desired her. When was been twenty-one, at that party he had dragged her from, she had realized then how the presence of other men around her made him nervous.

Defying him made his eyes darken. Challenging him made his expression flex with what she had then sensed and now knew to be hunger. The little things she had forgotten over the years poured through her memories.

Courtney was right. This was a war. A very subtle war. And if she wanted to tear Cam from whatever demons drove him, then she was going to fight fire with fire.

Instinctive fire. Feminine fire. The kind of fire that she knew made him blaze with possessiveness and with hunger.

As she dressed the next morning, she let the memories of those days wash over her. Laughing with him, teasing him, making a game of drawing a smile from him. It was easy to make Chase smile; he was a prankster and loved laughing. At least, then he had been. He was older now, more mature, but that wicked amusement still lurked in his eyes. Possessiveness could still fill his gaze.

But Cam was darker, even less prone to laugh than he had been seven years before.

As with all small towns, there had been rumors of the Falladay twins even before they had reached maturity. With the death of their parents at a young age, they had been raised by a spinster aunt from out of town.

The day they turned eighteen, the aunt had been escorted out of the house by the local sheriff. There were rumors that she had abused the boys, but no verification of it. Cam had joined the military straight out of high school, and Chase had gone to college.

They had separated, and Jaci had never understood why. As she cinched the bright yellow belt over her jeans and adjusted the black, embroidered T-shirt over her stomach, a frown pulled at her brows.

No one had expected the twins to separate like that, but everyone had agreed there was a darker, more dangerous core to Cam than there had been to Chase—one that they hoped the military would dilute. It seemed, though, that whatever had happened there had only increased that darkness. Not the violence; Jaci didn’t think there had ever been true violence inside him. But there was a core of hard cold steel inside him. He could be violent under the right circumstances.

No. Not violent. Violence was uncontrolled. No, Cam would be deadly when provoked. Cold. Hard. Merciless.

Staring into the full-length mirror, Jaci admitted to herself that that core had always drawn her. The steel, the determination, the danger that swirled in his eyes. He was the ultimate bad boy, and he called to her as no other man ever had.

Shaking her head, she strapped a black-and-silver watch to her wrist, smoothed her hands over her black jeans, and smiled with hard determination.

Cam had evidently come to the conclusion, along with others, that she was an easy mark. That her back was made to tromp on. Richard and Annalee had gotten away with it, simply because she hadn’t known how to protect herself; and later she hadn’t wanted Cam involved, because of the promise he had made to her. God forbid he should kill either of them, because she wanted them to suffer. She wanted them to lie awake at night and wonder, she wanted them to see her and, rather than finding ways to shred her reputation, she wanted them running the other way.

She had worked for this day, let them believe they had won, that she was frightened, that she could be manipulated. She had worked the situation until she knew their guard had dropped just enough—just enough to allow her the opportunity she had found with Moriah.

It was fate, she had decided the night she learned what Moriah had suffered at their hands. Only fate would have brought both of them together, would have given them both the feeling of trust in the other to reveal the secrets they harbored, and only fate would have put them both here in Virginia, together with the Robertses.

Just as fate had placed Cam here at the same time. Nothing could possibly be easy where this situation was concerned.

Breathing out roughly, she sat down on a chair and pulled on the leather ankle boots, lacing them quickly, before standing and checking the time.

Ten minutes.

Oh yes, she would definitely be waiting on him.

She grabbed her purse and leather case, then left her hotel room and entered the elevator. It was a quick trip to the lobby, where she moved to one of the stately columns rising from the floor of the lobby to the second floor. She leaned against one of them, restrained her smile, and watched as Cam pushed through the doors. He wasn’t aware of her yet, his expression wasn’t as controlled as she was certain he wanted it to be, because she saw the edge of concern pulling at his brows.

His expression fit the stormy, overcast skies outside the hotel.

She tightened her lips and restrained her smile at that expression. Oh, he knew he had messed up. She could see it in his face.

When his gaze finally found her, he paused, almost stopped, his gaze flickering, before it cleared and showed nothing but supreme male confidence and dominant assertion.

Jaci almost laughed. God, he could make her madder than anyone she had ever met in her life. How the hell did he think he was going to get away with sneaking out on her last night?

He moved to her, his arm bracing on the column her shoulder leaned upon and lowered his head. At the last second, he kissed her cheek rather than her lips. Not by design, but because she had anticipated what was coming, because she knew Cam. A kiss would weaken her, and he knew it. She wasn’t about to let him weaken her.

“It’s rainy today.” She looked up at him, keeping her expression clear, keeping all indications of her anger buried beneath a bright smile. “I bet Courtney is whining this morning. She hates the rain.”

His gaze flickered again as he straightened.

“Are you ready?” He all but growled the words. “I would have come up to your room. You didn’t have to meet me in the lobby.”

Oh, she just bet he would have. And she bet he would have immediately attempted to seduce her to make certain she forgot about the night before. There was no forgetting. The next time he got into her bed, he was going to know the rules. There was no sneaking out five minutes later. She hadn’t waited all these years for her first lover, just to have him ruin the experience by acting like an ass.

“I didn’t mind meeting you.” She smiled at him, giving the words just enough of an edge to let him know she preferred it that way.

“What time did you leave?” she asked as they moved through the doors and beneath the sheltered entrance to the car that was waiting.

She didn’t hear his answer, it was mumbled, muttered, just as he helped her into the car and closed the door behind her.

She was starting to remember all the little idiosyncrasies that men had that made her crazy. She might not have actually had sex in the past seven years, but she’d had enough men try to bed her, to actually put time and effort into it, to figure out some of the worse habits they had. That mumbled, indistinct attempt at a reply was one of them. At least he wasn’t actually lying to her.

The ride to the mansion wasn’t much better. She could feel him trying to guess at what point she realized he had left her room. No doubt he had already guessed; Cam wasn’t anyone’s dummy. And now he was trying to anticipate just how angry she was and the best way to soothe that anger.

Keep guessing, baby, she thought with an inward smile. He might get it right. Eventually.

After pulling up to the Sinclair mansion in a drenching rain, Cam watched as Matthew strode from the house, a large umbrella held overhead as he helped Jaci from the car.

“I’ll see you later.” She cast him a bright smile that did nothing to fool him.

He knew women, and he knew she was pissed.

Damn. He pushed the car into gear and pulled around the house to a covered parking area and came face-to-face with his brother.