Could she handle being Dawg’s lover that long? Could she walk away with her soul if she did?
“Don’t think about it too damned hard,” he bit out irritably. “I might change my mind.”
Crista wrapped her arms over her br**sts and stilled the anger beginning to rise inside her. She couldn’t afford to be angry at this point; she had to think. Dawg always managed to mess up her mind.
She couldn’t afford to let him do it this time.
“You’re being a bastard,” she told him forcefully. “You know I wasn’t involved in whatever you were doing there. I don’t deal with drugs, I never have.”
He shrugged easily as he propped himself against the bar. “I haven’t seen you in eight years, Crista. People change in that time.”
“Oh yeah, and people dealing in drugs work as waitresses at crappy little diners where they don’t even make minimum wage, too,” she snapped. “Don’t play with me; I don’t like it. At least admit that you’re using this to force something out of me that I wasn’t willing to give you.”
A frown snapped between his brows, causing her stomach to clench nervously. “I wouldn’t force you.”
“Then what do you call it? I can f**k you or I can go to jail? Hell of a choice there, Dawg,” she sneered.
Crista watched the muscle at his jaw tighten, a heavy tic rippling through it as he watched her.
“I thought I was being rather charitable,” he growled. “Deny you’re interested in being in my bed.”
“I have. Every time I’ve ignored your petty little efforts at flirtation. Or didn’t you notice?”
“I noticed that kiss earlier, too.” Black velvet seduction. His voice raked over her nerve endings and reminded her just how good it had been. “That wasn’t force, Crista. Stop fooling yourself. You loved it.”
Okay, he had her there. Her stomach tightened at the memory and at the knowledge that she had no defenses against him.
“I agree to one night—”
“And I said one night isn’t enough. I want the summer. All summer.”
Crista froze. Three months? Summer had just begun, and he wanted the rest of it.
“Why?” She forced the word past her numb lips as she stared back at him.
“It takes time to determine guilt or innocence, Crista Ann. I want you close while I figure which one to attach to you. If you’re really innocent, then at the end of the summer, you’re free to go. I find out you’re guilty, and your ass heads to jail. Consider it your trial period. Except instead of sitting in a jail cell, you’re enjoying all the comforts I can provide you.”
His smile was dangerous, sensual. It curved like a predatory smirk that had her heart racing in her chest.
And he was messing with her head again. Her mind filled with memories, the touch and the taste of him. How the slightest brush of his fingers could steal her defenses and leave her shaking in his arms.
His kiss. It was drugging, fiery. And what he could do to her heart, her emotions, should be illegal.
He could tie her up in so many knots on the inside that she wondered if they would ever be untangled.
Crista swallowed tightly against the onslaught of remembered sensations and pleasures.
“You keep thinking about it.” He shrugged easily. “You can take a shower, rest a bit before you decide. I’ll loan you a clean shirt.” He smiled again. “You won’t need it for long.”
“You’ve changed, Dawg,” she whispered then. “You didn’t used to be such a cold-blooded bastard.”
“Sure I did,” he drawled. “You were just one of the few that hadn’t recognized it. Didn’t you hear all about that nasty little court battle after my parents died? Hell, honey, even my parents knew I was a lost cause.”
She had heard about the court battle. How his aunt had tried to take the entire estate his parents had left him based on a few letters his father had written to his aunt. Letters that were filled with disgust over his son’s lifestyle and his belief that Dawg didn’t deserve to share his name.
It had lasted for years. Even after he was in the Marines, he had been plagued with legal conflicts and the fight to hold on to his inheritance. It had finally ended after his return home four years ago, but he had lost tens of thousands of dollars in the fight.
“No.” She shook her head. “You weren’t like this before. You would have never forced this on me then.”
“But I am now. You can make your choice while you’re cleaning up. But when you step back into this room, you damned well better have made your mind up. You’re mine for the summer, or you can belong to the federal government, it’s all up to you.”
Dawg didn’t let out a relieved breath until Crista disappeared into the lower bathroom long minutes later, one of his T-shirts clenched tightly in her fingers, her large brown eyes watching him warily as she closed the door behind her.
Minutes later he heard the shower running and ran his fingers through his hair as he blew out another hard breath.
For a while there, he honestly thought she was going to choose the alternative. When she had finally headed for the shower, he had to force himself to hold back, to keep from assuring her that nothing in hell could convince him to turn her over to the authorities. To just let her go.
He rubbed at the back of his neck as he grimaced at the thought. Eight years he had dreamed about her. When he least expected it, when he was weak, tired. Dreams so blistering hot he would wake up pumping his own dick like an adolescent and moaning her name.
The past year had been worse. He was like a damned love-starved teenager going out of his way just to see her. Hoping to catch her smile, craving the sound of her voice.
Damn, he had missed her after she left town. Not that he had stuck around for long. He had signed up with the Marines before his parents’ death, and he shipped out just months afterward.
Long-distance court battles and the hell of trying to hold on to his parents’ estate had consumed him, but through it, he had thought of Crista.
She had left so suddenly, before he had the chance to gather up his nerve and do more than flirt with her a little bit.
When she returned to Somerset the year before, he thought maybe, this time, he could make it work. Until she stared at him like a slug crawling out from under a rock.
Why the hell did he even care? It wasn’t like she was the only game in town. He could have his pick from dozens of women. One night, one week, one month, one whole f**king year if he wanted to keep one that long.