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But she did. She was sure of it. If there was one thing she excelled at besides makeup and a spectacular baton-twirling routine, it was knowing what men wanted—what they really wanted. She'd spent her life studying them, understanding them, anticipating their desires. Looking at Isaac as he watched her, horror and anger flitting across his face, she knew she was right. And she wished like hell she wasn't, because it meant he'd spent years hurting himself the worst way he could.
"Sure I do, and deep down you know it," she said, all her rage gone. She walked back to him. "The first time we met, you told me you don't play well with others. That was a lie. You are the consummate team player and you can't help but be the hero people need, but you're too busy punishing yourself for what happened in Afghanistan to let yourself be the man you're meant to be."
"Shut up," he said, barely getting the two words out through his clenched jaw.
"Why?" She gave him a small smile, the kind that promised it would be okay. "Because the bitchy blonde is right?"
He didn't say anything. He just stood there, his entire body locked tight while he stared at something over her shoulder. Then, slowly, his muscles relaxed and his gaze slid over to her.
"Yes." One corner of his mouth tilted up. "The bitchy blonde is right."
Relief flooded through her and the breath she'd been holding whooshed out just in time for guilt to sneak in and take up residence. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said all that. It wasn't my place"
He shrugged those broad shoulders of his. "It's about time someone did, because you're right. And that just goes to prove that you're a helluva lot more than what your mother drilled into your head."
It was pretty to think so but… "I'm scared."
"Of what?"
She took a deep breath. If she didn't do it now, she wasn't sure she ever would.
"I'm scared that she's right. I failed with Amelia, letting her disappear into Jarrod's world without a fight. I failed Essie because I let him get to her. Failed the B-Squad because they're out there risking their lives for the office secretary."
"That's bullshit." He snorted. "You didn't fail. Amelia asked you to save her daughter, and that is exactly what you're doing. We're getting her back and we're going to help the Feds nail Fane to the wall so he can't ever steal her back again."
It sounded so good when he said it like that. It made her want to believe. "I'm not good at accepting help."
"No shit." He laughed. "But no man—or woman—can do everything on their own. We all need a team."
"Even you?" Sure it was a nudge, but he needed it. She wasn't the only one who'd been spitting in the wind and paying the price.
"Yeah, even me." He closed the distance between them and rested his hand on the upper swell of her hip. "But right now, all I need is you."
"Why?" It was probably the worst question in the world to ask, but she couldn't stop herself.
"I have a thing for bitchy blondes." He dipped his head, letting his lips hover over hers. "Didn't anyone tell you?"
Her heart banged against her ribs and a thin ribbon of fear wound its way through the excitement bubbling up inside h
er. Falling for Isaac was a risk—the biggest one she'd ever taken. It's why she'd pushed him away and run every time he chased. He wasn't like the others. He was a forever kind of guy. "What if I'm not as bitchy as I pretend to be?"
"I guess I'll just have to learn to live with it." He stayed there, his mouth only a hair's breadth from hers, all but daring her to make the first move.
If there was a decision to make, her heart had already done it, so it was time for her body to catch up. She raised herself up onto her tiptoes and captured his mouth, her tongue demanding entrance, and all the fear, uncertainty of the past few months washed away with the touch.
Her hands snaked around him, sneaking underneath his soft cotton T-shirt, the only thing blocking her from the skin-to-skin contact she craved. She wanted—needed—to touch and taste his warm skin. She yanked the shirt from his jeans, exposing a slim line of bare skin above his low-slung jeans. Electricity sparked between them, traveling from her fingertips to her clit in a bolt of passion. Weaving her hand between the cotton and his skin, she pushed his shirt higher, but not enough.
Isaac broke the kiss, nudging her back far enough to be able to whip off his shirt. "Take your clothes off."
"Is that an order?" She toyed with the hem of her T-shirt, anticipation making her tremble just enough to send her pulse skyrocketing.
Desire flared in his eyes. "Yes."
Cocky and confident, he sat down in the straight-backed chair, ready to enjoy the show. Well if that's what he wanted, she could more than deliver.
"Whatever you say, sir." She released the loose-fitting T-shirt and dropped her hands to the top button of her jeans and flipped it open before inching the zipper down.
Shimmying out of the jeans, she watched Isaac as the battle between his need to touch her and his wanting to watch played out on his face. His hands were gripping the arms of the chair, but he hadn't given in to the urge that she could feel it beating against her skin. It sent a fresh wave of want surging through her, and drawing out the moment didn't seem as fun anymore. She yanked the T-shirt over her head, tossed it onto the bed, and stood before him in only her hot pink lace bra and panties.
