Chapter Ten

 

RYAN

 

Every time that I see her, I can't get the thoughts out of my head. Wondering what it must be like. Wondering what it will feel like. I don't have to wonder any more.

She's right there, and all I have to do is reach out and take her.

Davis pulls her fist back in an exaggerated motion. If she wanted to hit me, she should go straighter. Just bang, pop her hand right out and into me. She doesn't. She arcs wide, and I have no trouble dodging.

I grab her and turn her, pull her over the bar. I can hear her gun clatter to the floor, and with it goes her illusions of control over the situation.

When I have her on her back, her legs dangling over the far edge of the bar, she's flushed. Her breaths are coming in hard, hot bursts. I can feel the effect that her ragged breathing is having on my body.

She wants to tell me to get my hands off her. She wants me to let her go. Not because she doesn't want it, because I can see in her eyes that she does.

She's afraid of not being in control, which is a lucky thing for her. Lucky that I'm here, anyways. Because now she can learn what it's like not to be in control any more.

I don't take my hands off of her. I'm not going to any time soon, but she needs to be more honest first. More ready to tell the truth about what she feels. I can feel her under my hand, pressing against me.

I push her down, just hard enough to let her know that she's not getting out. She stops struggling for a moment. I lean down over her.

"You're not in control," I tell her softly. "Not here. You can go back to your work in a while, and you can control your bulldog when you get there. Not me."

Her eyes burn with anger. She doesn't like hearing that one bit. That look is how Davis should always look. Anger suits her. I tell her so and it burns hotter.

"Get off me!"

"Not until you realize that you can't control me."

"Fuck you, I can't."

"You're not going to admit it, are you?"

She will, but not out loud. She's not ready yet. I lean down on her harder and press my lips against hers. For an instant I feel her surrender as the kiss brushes against her soft mouth, then the denial kicks in again, hard.

I pull back away and push down on her ribs, stopping the rebellion in its tracks.

"You can't lie to me, 'Agent.'"

"Lie to you about what?"

"You know what. You want this, don't you?"

"Fuck you. Get off me."

She didn't deny it, and I noticed. She can't deny it, because she knows I'll hear the lie in her voice. She doesn't trust herself to be able to say the words. That's smart.

"Is that really what you want?"

I let my hand get light on her chest. I let her feel it. Her face is flushed with a mixture of anger and arousal that she can't bring herself to deny.

Her hand comes up from underneath and slaps me. My hand gets heavy again, pressing her down onto the bar. Her breasts pool on her chest deliciously, but I don't touch them. Don't reach for them. I don't even look at them if I can help it.

"That wasn't nice, Agent Davis."

"Let me go, and we'll see how nice I can be."

"I can't let you go, Davis. You still haven't learned your lesson."

"What lesson is that?"

I brush my lips across hers again. Her body calls out to mine, tries to deepen the kiss into something more substantial.

"The lesson that you can't control me."

"You're a piss-poor fuckin' scumbag, and I can control you as much as I want."

I move my hand. She lays there a minute, her breaths coming in ragged and short. The flush of arousal still shines in her skin. I can almost see it reflecting off her skin under the neon lights.

"If that's what you think, fine. We'll see who's right."

She rolls off the bar, straightens her shirt. We both know what happened, and we both know I'm right. I proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that she had less leverage than she thought I did.

I watch the cogs in her mind turning, watch her imagining what could have happened. She shivers at the thought. She takes another deep breath and straightens, her face returning to the confident mask that she tries to wear.

"If you ever do that again—"

"You'll what, 'Agent?' Beat me to hell and back?" I lean forward, my elbows propped up on the counter. "I'd like to see that, Davis."

I can see her flinch at the way I say her name. She doesn't like it. I make a mental note to find out her first name. If it's a secret, then I'll dig it out.

Davis has plenty of secrets. Anyone could see that. But some things about her aren't secret at all. What she wanted, what her body was reaching out for even as her lack of control drove her insane… I didn't need to wonder about that.

"Is there anything else, Agent Davis? Or can I get back to cleaning up my bar?"

She grinds her molars together. It gives her an aspect of sexual frustration that start my motor running again.

"You ain't going to offer me a beer?"

"Not tonight, Davis. Not if you can't be honest with me."

Her jaw tightens. "You've got a big fuckin' ego, you know that?"

I shrug and pour myself another drink, then take a drink in front of her. A little jab that I can't quite resist.

"Maybe, but I'm not wrong."

She leans down to grab the pistol from the ground, where it fell when I pulled her up onto the bar. She slips it into her holster.

No more threats, I think. She must have been shaken up by that. I can't keep the smile off my face at the thought. No more threats from her, and soon, no more lies. Then things will get real interesting. McCallister is big fish, no doubt.

But I can't buy the idea that she's only got plans that go that high. Davis, whatever her real name is, she's not the kind of person who makes short-term plans. She's not the kind of person to tell me all her plans, either.

She's got other irons in the fire, and I'm very interested to see where this one goes when the iron is finally hot.