A Perfect Storm(42)

She made a sound of hunger and deepened the kiss.

Heat flared, and his dick twitched to attention.

So did his conscience.

The easiest explanation for her quick turnaround was that on top of the adrenaline high, she'd had way too many drinks.

But damn, her mouth felt good and tasted good, too. Before he even  realized it, he had his hand tangled in her long hair, his mouth  slanting over hers, their tongues dueling.

He pulled her closer as he leaned back so that she sprawled over his chest. Instead of recoiling, Arizona moaned.

Shit.

He freed his mouth, then had to hold her away as she tried to crawl up onto his lap. "Honey … wait."

"No."

"We have to stop."

"Can't."

Honest need sounded in her tone, and Spencer's control fragmented. A  kiss hadn't dampened her enthusiasm at all. Hell, it had spurred her on.

Because of the alcohol.

Never in his life had he taken advantage of an inebriated woman, and he  sure as hell wouldn't start with Arizona. He had to pull it together and  fast, or he'd do something they both might regret. "Arizona, stop."

He held her back the length of his arms.

The look she gave him would have reduced most guys to a puddle. Hurt,  embarrassment, even desperation-he saw it all in her beautiful blue  eyes.

He shored up his resistance and touched her cheek-and prayed that he was  the only one to notice how his hand shook. "You promised me you'd be  okay."

Confusion overtook embarrassment. "What are you talking about?"

"Before you went in the bar. You gave me your word that you'd be fine."

Overflowing with frustration, she held out her arms. "And I am."

"Bruised and bleeding is not fine. It's a long way from fine." He gave  the corner of her mouth one last stroke, smoothing a darkening bruise  with his thumb. "You got struck."

"A little backhand, that's all." She reached for him again. "It's nothing."

"Maybe not to you." He held her at bay, and this time she let him. "But  to me it's a lot. It damn near killed me when that bastard hit you."                       
       
           



       

"Yeah?"

Telling her too much would only encourage her. "I want to get you home, cleaned up, and then you need to sleep off the whiskey."

She leaned in to put her head on his shoulder, cuddling close-and he let her.

"I don't want to."

The rejection stiffened his spine; her nearness, the scent of her,  stiffened everything else. "You don't want to come home with me?"

She shook her head. "I don't want to sleep."

Spencer could see the wheels turning. So she no longer minded  kissing-that didn't change anything else, not her past, and not the fact  she was drunk.

Besides, he couldn't delay things any longer, not here, out on the street, exposed to danger.

He looked out the back window but saw no one and nothing. Was Dare still  following them? If so, Spencer couldn't even imagine what he'd think.

He lifted Arizona back to her own seat. "Sorry, honey, but I need you to put your seat belt back on."

"But-"

"I'm done arguing, Arizona. Just do it."

She resettled herself with angry movements. "You're a real killjoy, you know that?"

Spencer fought a reluctant grin as he put the truck in gear and pulled  back out to the road. God help him, it was getting more and more  difficult to play this game.

And with every minute, it felt less like a game anyway.

Everything about her appealed to him, especially her independence. She  went after what she wanted, whether it was a new knife, a fight with a  scumbag like Janes, or … a devastating kiss with him.

If it weren't for the danger, he would have loved watching her work. She  pulled off the "look at me, I'm so helpless" act to perfection. But  when necessary, she was ballsy to the extreme, with the skill to back it  up.

He didn't hear from Dare again, but he assumed he still followed.

Taking a disjointed route back home took longer but felt safer. No way in hell would he lead anyone to his place.

By the time they reached his driveway, Arizona was almost asleep. She'd  curled up toward the passenger door, her long hair hanging down to hide  her face, her arms folded around her middle, her sandals discarded on  the floor.

Sexy. Like a slumbering kitten-but with sharp claws.

"We're here," Spencer softly told her.

"Whoop-de-doo."

Okay. Not so asleep after all.

"Let's go." He got out and walked around to her side of the truck, but  she'd already opened her door and started a zigzagging stride up the  walkway. Barefoot. The turbulent night air swirled around her, lifting  her long hair and sending leaves to scuttle past her ankles.

Rushing to grab her purse and sandals, Spencer caught up to her and took her arm. "You're hammered."

"Yeah, the booze is sort of sinking in, ya know? I feel it more now than  I did when I first left the bar." Then she paused, looked toward  Marla's and gave an exaggerated wave. "Hey, neighbor!"

Spencer turned his head around in time to see a curtain drop. He did not need this conversation tonight. "Keep going."

"What? You don't want to chat with your lover?"

God, no, he didn't want that. Unless Arizona became his …  He put the brakes on that provocative thought. "Inside."

"Yes, sir. Right away, sir. Thank you, sir."

His mouth twitched again. "I am not that bossy."

"Ha!" She nearly knocked herself over with that exaggerated exclamation. "Bossy, and arrogant, and a … a tease."

Hauling her into his side, Spencer supported her while they went up the  porch to the front door. "You need sleep a whole lot more than you need  anything else."

"But we were going to eat cake."

He got the door unlocked, opened it-and she almost fell inside. "That'll have to wait." Giving up, he scooped her into his arms.

"Wait." She straightened her neck to look around. "You're going to carry me? Seriously?"

Shrugging, Spencer looked down at her, their faces close. "Seems easier than rolling you to bed."

"But since we are going to a bed … " She touched her forehead to his. "I  can think of better things to do than … " She burped, then snickered.  "Sorry."

"Right. Hold that thought." After pressing her head to his shoulder to  remove a modicum of the temptation, he kicked the door shut and started  forward.

Through the silent, dark house, Spencer carried her-and he enjoyed it. A lot. Probably too much.

"Not the couch?" she asked when he passed it.

"Not tonight, no."                       
       
           



       

"I don't want to sleep in your guest bedroom," she rushed to say.

"I know." He hugged her just a little. Sooner or later he'd find out why  she hesitated to use the room. "I'm taking you to my bed."

"Really?" Her arms tightened around his neck, and she whispered, "Change your mind?"

"No." But God, he wanted to. Holding her like this felt … right.

And dangerous. To him and her, both.

The steady drumming of her heartbeat, the lush press of her breasts to  his chest, her warm thighs over his forearm … all combined to ramp up his  awareness.

With regret, he let her legs slide down until her feet touched the tiled  bathroom floor. He dropped her sandals and set her purse on the vanity.  "Why don't you do … whatever you do before bed, and I'll be right back."

She lounged against the sink. "Where are you going?"

"To lock up. I'll just be a minute."

"Okeydokey." She closed the door on him.

Taking his time, Spencer turned the dead bolt on the front door, checked  the windows and then went to his bedroom to turn down the bed. He'd  just finished when Arizona emerged.

Her hair was damp around her face, so she'd splashed it-but hadn't  removed all her makeup. She stopped in front of him, swaying just a  little.

He tipped up her chin and examined the place where she'd been hit. Even  in the dim light, he saw the darkening bruise that colored the side of  her mouth and along her jaw.

He touched it with his thumb. "I hate it that you got hurt." Again. Under his watch.

Damn it, he wanted to protect her, not let her suffer more abuse.

Her mouth tilted. "I've had a lot worse, so quit worrying about it."

Her breath smelled of toothpaste, and her eyes looked dazed. "You're not  making this any easier on me." Bending down, he brushed his mouth over  the bruise. She started to lean into him.

Before he got carried away, Spencer said, "Don't go anywhere. I'll be  right back," and he left for the bathroom to wash up and brush his  teeth, too.

Because he didn't completely trust her not to bolt on him, he left the  door ajar and listened for her while he did a rush job of preparing for  bed.