The Tender Trap. BEVERLY BARTON
at Adam, hoping that by fighting him she could overcome the temptation to throw herself into his arms.
Tightening his hold on her shoulders, he shook her. “Where the hell did you get those ridiculous ideas about my ex-wife and me?”
“I figured it out on my own.” Blythe tried to free herself from his hold, then ceased struggling and swatted at her tearstained face. “I’ve had more than enough of you for one day. Let go of me. I want to leave.”
“Calm down,” he told her. “You can’t go out in the rain, upset and crying. You’re liable to have a wreck.”
Swallowing her tears, Blythe jerked away from Adam and tied to turn around, only to be confronted by the king-size black metal bed. She could feel Adam directly behind her, could feel his strength and power. Dear God, she had to get away from him, get away from the way he made her feel.
“Blythe?” His voice dropped to a deep baritone, the sound echoing in the stillness of the room.
She trembled when he placed his hands on her shoulders, slowly turning her to face him. She hung her head, avoiding eye contact.
“Who the hell made you dislike men so much, and me in particular?” It became apparent to Adam that somewhere along the way, some man had done a number on Blythe Elliott. What other explanation could there be for her actions?
“Not all men—just overbearing macho ones like you. My stepfather made my mother his slave. Wouldn’t let her have a career. She had no life of her own, no income, no way to escape him. He made her totally dependent on him and loved having her beg him for every...” Blythe gulped down her anger at the same time she tried to wipe the tears from her eyes. Her hand trembled. “Raymond was a real son of a bitch!”
Adam reached down, touching her cheeks with his fingertips, brushing away the dampness of her tears. “Do I remind you of your stepfather?”
“Yes!” Blythe shook her head. “No, not really. It’s just that you’re a big man, very masculine, very handsome, and... and women seem to adore you. You’re an old-fashioned, macho guy. Raymond was like that.”
Adam couldn’t remember a time in his life when he’d felt as protective of anyone as he did Blythe at this precise moment. He wanted to gather her into his arms, hold and comfort her, make her feel safe and secure. “Don’t confuse me with your stepfather. All men aren’t bastards. Surely you’ve discovered that fact by now. It’s not like there haven’t been men in your—”
Another loud blast of thunder drowned out the sound of Adam’s voice. Gasping, Blythe grabbed Adam around the waist, clinging to him.
He stroked her short hair, the dark auburn strands beneath his hand like heavy, cinnamon silk to the touch. “It’s all right, babe. I’m here. I’ll take care of you.”
Blythe froze the moment she heard his declaration. Glaring at him, she eased her arms from around his waist and punched him in the chest with her finger. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me!”
“We all need somebody to take care of us,” Adam said. “Women need men. Men need women. Needing someone isn’t a weakness, you know. A real woman knows how to give and take.”
She lifted her hands, gripping the lapels of his jacket, staring up at him, her eyes pleading with him—she did need something from him, but Adam wasn’t sure what.
Slowly, he cradled the back of her head with his palm, roaming his other hand down her neck, bringing her body closer to his. He looked into her green-flecked hazel eyes and was lost. Diamond teardrops glistened in her thick reddish brown lashes. Her full, pouty lips opened slightly as she breathed in and out. The sprinkling of tiny freckles across her nose beckoned him to kiss each pale copper dot.
Blythe Elliott was utterly enchanting.
Hell, what was he thinking? What was he doing? Loosening his hold on her, Adam took a step backward.
“Adam?” Blythe felt lost without him, without the touch of his fingers in her hair, the support of his hand on her back. She didn’t want him to release her. She’d be alone again. So very alone.
“I’H drive you home.” He turned to leave the room. “I’ll get someone to bring your car over to your apartment in the morning.”
Although he had his back to her, Blythe nodded her head. She stood frozen to the spot by the bed for a few minutes, waiting while Adam walked out into the hall. She picked up her purse, hung it over her shoulder and followed him.
“I can drive myself home.” She couldn’t understand the overwhelming urge she had to ask him if she could stay with him. I don’t want to go, Adam. I want to stay here with you. I want you to...
“If you drive yourself, I’ll worry about you,” he said.
When they neared the front door, Adam flipped the light switch, throwing the room into semidarkness. Only the fluorescent light over the bar area remained on. He opened the door, stood to one side and waited for Blythe. She walked outside, hesitating momentarily at the wrought iron gate that opened directly onto the private drive behind the condos. He placed his hand on the small of her back.
Then he realized, too late, that he shouldn’t have touched bet. He didn’t want her to leave. He wanted her to stay, to spend the night in his arms.
“You don’t have to leave, you know.” He spread his fingers open wide, touching her lower back and the upper curve pf her buttocks. “You could stay.”
Turning slowly, she stared up at him and saw the undisguised raw passion in his brown eyes, eyes so dark and deep they appeared black. “Do you want me to stay?”
“Yes, I want you to stay.” He growled the words.
She swallowed hard, wondering if she’d lost her mind. “This is crazy, Adam. We’re crazy. You want me to stay, and... I want to stay”
Sweeping her up into his arms, he lowered his head and claimed her lips in a kiss of total possession. She clung to him, returning the kiss with eagerness. Taking her back inside his condo, he closed the door behind them and shut out the reality both of them had momentarily forgotten.
He carried her into his dark bedroom. A faint, gray light shimmered in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Shadows fell across the gold-and-black striped coverlet, wavered on the golden cream-colored wall and encompassed the room in a seductive quiet.
Adam laid Blythe down on the bed, then stood over her, staring at her. Suddenly she felt very small and totally helpless.
“Adam, maybe we’re—” She started to say that maybe they were making a mistake, a big mistake, but before she could finish the sentence, he leaned over and kissed her. His mouth was hard and hot and moist.
She returned the kiss, draping her arms around him and trying to drag his body onto hers. Even though she had never made love with a man, she wasn’t totally inexperienced. She’d felt passion before, had known what it was like to want a man, but nothing had prepared her for this uncontrollable need.
He came down over her, kissing her until she couldn’t breathe, until she thought she’d die from the pleasure of being so completely consumed. He slipped his big hand beneath her, seeking and finding the zipper pull at the back of her dress. Easing open her lavender linen dress, he lifted her body just enough to insert his hand inside the waistband of her lace half-slip.
When he delved his hand inside her lavender bikini pant es and made contact with her naked buttocks, Blythe groaned against his marauding lips. He nuzzled the side of her neck and whispered her name. She trembled. He sighed.
He brought her hand to his shirt, encouraging her to unbutton it. Slowly, hesitantly at first, she began to undress him while he tugged her dress off her shoulders and down to her waist. All the while, he kept touching her, kissing her, talking to her.
“You’re so little, babe. So delicately made. So fragile. I don’t want to hurt you.”
She