Rescue Me. Kira Sinclair

he supposed he didn’t really blame her.

      Not that it would make much of a difference.

      They couldn’t force her to cooperate, but he’d already figured out she was going to go along with their plan. If she wasn’t, she wouldn’t be so upset. She’d have simply told him to leave. Or waited until some of her muscle showed up and had them throw him out. Or at least try.

      Instead, she’d been raining down words over his head, calling into question his parentage and the size of his package, and insulting just about anything else she could think of. The woman had an inventive vocabulary. He’d give her that.

      In fact, watching her go off on her tirade was rather entertaining, not that he’d admit that to her.

      What he found most intriguing was that her ass-chewing didn’t seem to slow her down one iota, her words punctuated by slamming cabinets and drawers, clanging glasses. He was impressed that she could continue a steady monologue while hauling what had to be a hundred pounds of bottles.

      And God forbid he offer to carry them for her.

      He’d realized very quickly that attempting to share the load just led to more tongue-lashing—and not the kind he actually wanted.

      So he and Duchess had decided to take a seat at the bar and just watch.

      Damn, she was gorgeous. What he wouldn’t do to be able to capture the tiny whirlwind of activity on film, though he doubted his amateur skills could do her justice. She didn’t let anything derail her—not the bum ankle she was trying to hide, his unexpected visit or the proposition he’d delivered.

      Her skin flushed with exertion and anger. Her blonde curls were wild and begging to be tamed—like the rest of her.

      Her prickly attitude made him want to grab her, swing her into his arms and give her something else to occupy her mouth besides the barrage of words. Something inside him wanted to soothe her, distract her, channel that energy.

      For the first time since she’d started, Tucker stopped. Or rather, her body stopped while her mouth kept moving.

      “Stop staring at me.”

      “I’m not.”

      Her hands landed on her hips, one cocking out to the side as she tossed that long mane of hair over her shoulder. Her bangs curled into her flashing blue eyes, but she didn’t seem to notice. Or care.

      “You are. Stop it.”

      He’d let her spill her anger because he was hoping the well would eventually run dry. Unfortunately, he was starting to think that wasn’t going to happen.

      Time to change tactics.

      Standing up, he scooted around the end of the bar. Tucker shifted on her feet, but didn’t retreat. Maybe she should have.

      Her head tipped as he moved close, heat and awareness hitting her glare. Her expression sliced right through him, the combination of anger and passion stirring something deep inside him.

      Was she this fiery and explosive in bed? Finn had no doubt. Like trying to grab hold of lightning. Dangerous and exhilarating.

      “Sweetheart, you can’t strut around in skin-tight jeans, a T-shirt that clings to every curve you own, and that wild mane of hair, and not expect some attention. Surely, you’re used to it by now.”

      Tucker’s soft pink mouth thinned. It was naturally that color and he much preferred it to the shiny pink gloss it had been painted with last night. Not that the image of her taking him into her slick mouth hadn’t flashed through his thoughts more than once since then.

      “No, actually, I’m not. I’ve worked in bars for most of my adult life. I know what men usually go for, and it isn’t my boyish frame.”

      What the hell was she talking about? “The only thing about you that screams boy is your name. Trust me, the rest of you is all woman and I am not the only man who’s noticed.”

      Closing the space between them, Finn gave in and cupped the back of her neck with his palm. Her body vibrated with her irritation, energy arcing across his skin where he touched. Soft curls cascaded over his fingers and he used his hold to tip her head back. God, a man could get lost inside her dark blue eyes. He’d never seen anything like them. Just like the rest of her, they were gorgeous. Unusual.

      “I’m going to hazard a guess that the men give you a wide berth not because they’re not interested, but because you have a Do Not Touch sign blazing above your forehead in bright letters.”

      Tucker scoffed, the sound scraping through her throat. “Yeah, right. Hasn’t stopped you.”

      “I don’t follow directions very well.”

      “So I’ve noticed.”

      So much about this woman intrigued him. She might be terribly tiny, but her attitude said she was ten feet tall and could tackle anything in front of her.

      He liked that confidence. It was sexy as hell.

      Keeping his hold light, Finn slowly began guiding Tucker backward. It was a dance, one they’d been skirting around since last night. Considering the job he had to do and the role he was taking on, maybe it was better to get this out of the way now. Diffuse the tension building unchecked between them. Especially since they were going to be playing the boyfriend/girlfriend game.

      Her gaze was wary, but she didn’t slip away. She stayed right with him, moving step for step. Her eyes glittered, not just with anger, but with a curiosity she couldn’t quite hide.

      Finn flashed a wicked grin and didn’t stop until her back connected with the wall. Bending to her, Finn’s mouth settled over hers, a warm demand. He didn’t touch her anywhere else. Left her plenty of room to push him away if she wanted.

      Her lips were tight and stiff for several seconds, but like magic, within moments she was melting against him. She went up on tiptoe, trying to get closer. And her hands gripped his biceps hard, dragging him in. Her mouth opened, the tip of her tongue sweeping across the seam of his lips.

      Finn let out a groan of his own, opening and sinking into what she’d offered.

      His palm settled against the curve of her cheek, his thumb slipping across the line of her jaw and angling her chin higher.

      Her skin was damn soft, her mouth warm, reminding him of somewhere else he’d like to sink deep. God, the taste of her was the best aphrodisiac he’d ever had. Instead of quenching the thirst he’d been fighting, that one taste only made him crave more. Damn, this wasn’t smart.

      Finding a flash of willpower somewhere buried deep, Finn uncovered the strength to pull back. He dropped his forehead against hers, feeling the soft flutter of her breath brush across his throat. He fought for...something. Sanity. Integrity. Something other than the demand beating a rhythm through his body, urging him to take more.

      Pulling back, he stared into her dazed eyes, unable to fight the curl of satisfaction that rolled through his belly. He’d done that to her. With one mind-blowing kiss.

      “Damn, woman. If the men in this place knew how amazing that mouth was, there’s no way in hell they’d ever leave you alone.”

      * * *

      TUCKER YANKED OUT of Finn’s arms. Her heart thumped erratically. Her belly writhed with nerves and an energy she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

      In fact, she’d grown accustomed to not letting herself feel.

      Something else rolled through her, too. A bolt of anger that had her hand flashing out and her palm connecting with Finn’s cheek. The smack of skin on skin echoed through the empty bar, the shock of contact reverberating up her arm, zinging straight through the top of her skull.

      “Shit.” Why had she done that? “I’m so sorry, Finn.”

      If guilt wasn’t spreading through her like a bad case of chicken pox, she might have thought