Simon Says (17 page)

Either Dakota didn't notice his rage or she ignored it. “Besides, where he's concerned, I'll admit I'm paranoid. What if it wasn't him?” She shook her head. “I won't do anything without proof. I tried that once and it didn't do me a damn bit of good.”

In that moment, Dakota looked very alone and resigned to staying that way. Simon couldn't take it. “I won't let him hurt you.”

At his announcement—which surprised him as much as it did Dakota—she seemed to wilt. Just as quickly, she straightened with new resolve. She looked at his face, his throat, down to his chest and arms. Lower.

She breathed faster, harder. “I've changed my mind again.”

Simon didn't understand her at all. “Okay.” He tried to read her expression, but couldn't. “What do you…?”

In three long strides, Dakota reached him. Going on tiptoe, she grabbed his head and yanked his mouth down to hers. She was so frantic that her first attempt missed his mouth and landed on his chin. “Damn.” She tried again, this time hitting the mark. She kissed him. Hard.

Simon was stunned. In a very short time, Dakota had gone from defensive to shaken to sexually dominant. He tried to take her shoulders, to hold her back.

She wouldn't let him.

“Sit down, Simon.”

Without giving him a chance to comply, she pushed him backward toward his seat. Simon let her have her way. She was rough, determined, and he fell into the chair off balance. Before he could figure out how to handle this new mood of hers, she straddled his lap.

What the hell was this?

His cock didn't care—whatever it was, he liked it.

Her long legs opened around him, her lush bottom snuggled atop his crotch. He was sinking fast, and he knew it.

Dodging her kiss, trying to be noble, Simon said, “Dakota, wait.”

“Be quiet.” With ruthless pursuit, her mouth found his again and she kissed him with blind hunger, grinding her mouth against his, nipping him with her teeth. Simon was both concerned and wildly aroused.

Concern won out.

Doing his best not to hurt her, he turned his head away and held her shoulders. “Hold up, honey.”

“For what?” She licked his jaw, gave a love bite to his neck, his shoulder. “You said you wanted me.”

“Ow, damn it, Dakota—”

Her hot little tongue soothed over his skin, ending with a soft, luscious suck. “You taste so good, Simon.” Rubbing her nose against him, she added, “And you smell even better.”

She sounded turned on, but damn it, he didn't trust this swift about-face. That didn't stop him from getting a boner, but he wasn't a man who lacked control. Just the opposite. And he
did
care for her, so before things got too far out of hand, Simon caught her wrists and pinned her arms behind her back.

Her wild gaze shot up to his, and her voice went high and shrill. “What are you doing?”

“Shhh.” Gently, Simon kissed her. “Slow down and talk to me, sweetheart.”

“Talk?”
She struggled to free her arms, realized she couldn't, and thrust herself away from him so hard and fast that she toppled them both from the chair.

Simon felt them falling. With one arm, he kept Dakota close to protect her while bracing for the impact with his other arm. They hit the floor with a thud, Dakota pinned under him.

She went perfectly still for two heartbeats. Then exploded. “Get
off
.”

Knowing he couldn't let this continue, Simon again caught her wrists and pinned them above her head. Her knee struck him hard in the back. “Damn it.” He scooted down until he sat on her thighs.

He had her totally immobilized.

And she hated it.

“Dakota, listen to me.”

Her body bowed, lifting him from the floor. Her eyes squeezed shut, her teeth clenched.

Jesus, he hated this. But what to do? Let her molest him? Let her use him for…what? He had no real idea.

What if she despised him for it later? And how the hell would that work anyway, when she seemed on the verge of panicking with every other breath?

Transferring both her wrists into one of his hands, Simon touched her cheek. “Dakota, stop fighting me and listen to me.”

“Go to hell.”

“You attacked me, honey, not the other way around. I don't want to hurt you. I would
never
hurt you. You know that.”

She turned her face as far away from him as she could manage. “Let me go, Simon.”

“I will. I promise. But will you please talk to me first?”

“Fine.” She swallowed. Took two breaths. Finally, she looked at him. “We'll talk.”

Having no idea what to say, Simon waited. Seconds ticked by like gunshots. Their combined heartbeats rocked together.

Dakota squeezed her eyes shut, then slowly opened them. “Simon?”

“Yeah, honey.”

“I have a little problem.”

He'd figured out that much. “I know.” He offered up a small smile of encouragement. “Wanna tell me what it is?”

She no longer struggled, but she was still so frozen. “I'm not sure it's worth the trouble.”

“I'm more than sure that it is.” Carefully, Simon lowered himself over her, but only for an instant, only long enough to hold her close and then roll to his back so that she rested atop him. “Better?”

She sighed loudly, hid her face against his chest, and truly relaxed. “I'm an idiot, but yeah.”

Simon smoothed her wild hair down her back. “Will you tell me about it?”

“I guess I've got nothing better to do, do I?”

Patience, Simon decided, and just kept stroking her hair, her back. Despite the awful situation and possible reasons for it, he enjoyed the special moment of closeness with her.

Finally, he felt like he might get some real insight into the elusive Dakota Dream.

“When I was seventeen, I ran away from home.” Her fingers curled into his shirt. “Talk about stupid. I don't know what I was thinking.”

“You were seventeen, just a kid. And kids do things they later regret.”

“I was a thoughtless, spoiled brat.”

He stroked down her back to her hip, and back up again. “I find that hard to believe.” She said nothing. “Was there a reason you ran away?”

“Yeah.” She squirmed around and got comfortable on him. “To marry Marvin Dream and live a fairy-tale life.”

Marvin Dream. “So that's how you got the name?”

“The name and a whole lot more.” She rubbed her cheek against him. “My mom didn't like Marvin at all. When she found out that we'd been hanging around together, she refused to let me see him. He was so much older than me, or at least, at the time, it seemed that way.”

Simon stared up at his kitchen ceiling. When he'd set out to have Dakota, he hadn't imagined anything like this. His ballsy, outspoken Dakota giving confessions on the kitchen floor. It boggled his mind. “How much older?”

“Five years.”

So when she was seventeen, he was twenty-two. “A big gap at that age. He was a man, and as you said, you were a kid.”

Dakota shifted, moving to sit up beside him. She kept one hand on his abdomen, and with the other she tucked her hair behind her ear. “I can do this better if I'm looking at you.”

She could look all she wanted, as long as she kept talking. “Do you want to stay here, or go to the living room?”

Looking around at his floor, the toppled chair, her mouth slipped into a sheepish smile. “I guess a couch would be more conventional, huh?”

Stretched out on the tile, at his leisure, Simon reached out to touch a long lock of her hair. “Doesn't matter to me, honey. Wherever you're most comfortable.”

“You are the oddest man.” She pushed to her feet and offered him a hand up.

She was less than half his size. She'd been through an attack. She was now black and blue, and swollen. She had something horrible in her past.

And she wanted to help him off the floor.

One novelty after another, Simon thought, and took her hand.

Dakota had strength, both physical and emotional. Keeping hold of his hand, limping only a little, she led him back to his living room and then plopped down on the couch. She'd left the ice pack in the kitchen, so she rubbed absently on her thigh.

Simon eased down close beside her.

“Barber says I should get counseling, but I don't have time for that mumbo jumbo.”

So Barber already knew all about it. Simon stewed over that.

“There's no point anyway.” She met his probing gaze. “Since I don't date, it usually isn't an issue.”

“Is this a date?”

She grinned. “More like me chasing you down at a party I wasn't invited to.”

“I'm glad you showed up.” Simon meant it. “I'm damn sorry you got hurt, but seeing you in that dress and heels was…interesting.”

“Interesting, huh?”

And enlightening and provoking, but he saw no reason to share all that. “I also enjoyed hearing you sing. You're good.”

Accepting the compliment without modesty, she said, “Thanks.”

Simon teasingly lowered his brows. “Now, about this date.”

“Should I have said I don't have sex?” All innocent, she touched his chest, stroked, then flattened her hand there and looked up at him with big, serious eyes. “I don't, you know. Not since my divorce.” Moving carefully with her injuries, she turned on the couch to face him, and started stroking him again. “But now…”

Simon kept his smile contained. “Eventually, we will be intimate.”

Her hand stilled. “Yeah.”

“No objections?”

Her shoulders lifted. “I kind of figured that we'd end up there. That is, if I stay in town.”

“Stay.”

She nodded. “I think I will. Maybe. I
want
to. We'll have to talk about it.”

She sounded very undecided. Simon caught her hand and tugged her toward him. As gentle as he could manage, he kissed her and whispered again,
“Stay.”

Her gaze darted away from his. “Before we get to that, remember my little freak-out in the kitchen? Well, you might've figured out already that I can't bear to be held down, or out of control.”

“Held down, as in beneath me when we make love?”

His plain speaking brought her wide eyes back to his. “Being”—she cleared her throat—“
beneath
you would count as not in control. It's not that I want to freak out. I don't. I hate it. But sometimes it just happens.”

“Sometimes, meaning you've tried with other men?”

She snorted. “No. Meaning that in my Muay Thai practices, I could only go so far without panicking.”

A deep breath didn't alleviate the tightness in Simon's chest. “You practiced with Barber?”

“Yeah.”

“And he had you under him?”

“Well, duh.” She rolled her eyes over his venomous expression. “You know how training goes. Grappling isn't really part of Muay Thai, but you practice moves, and then sometimes it's actual sparring. Someone is in the guard, someone is mounted.”

Jealousy was a new emotion for Simon and he had a hard time getting it under wraps. “I could practice with you.”

“Wake up, Simon. You already saw in the kitchen how successful that'd be.” Shaking her head, she said, “No, I'm admitting defeat on that one. I don't like it, and I don't think I ever will.”

Simon thought about it, then shrugged. “I liked having you in my lap.” Hell, he could think of a dozen ways to have her where she'd think she was in control. “If we'd both been naked, that would have worked just fine for me.”

Color bloomed in Dakota's face.

It was interest, not embarrassment.

Trailing his fingers down her cheek to her jaw, her throat to her shoulder, Simon caressed her. “Whatever it takes, Dakota.”

Agitated breaths drew his attention to her breasts. “Then why did you stop me?”

“You're hurt.” Moving his hand lower, Simon skimmed down the outside of her left breast. “You had a bad scare today and you aren't thinking clearly. I don't want to take advantage of you. And there's a lot more we have to talk about yet.”

At the mention of talking, she yawned. “The gabfest will have to wait. I really am getting tired.” She started to rise.

Simon gently held her in place. Reminding her of where they'd left off, he said, “You could change the last name, you know.”

Before he'd finished, she was shaking her head. “No. I took the name and I'll damn well keep it.”