Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
“I can be. For you.”
She mulls that over, licking her lips, the action causing heat to pulse through my cock. “You notice a lot.”
I splay my hands. “It’s what I do.”
“Is that all it is? Professional interest?”
The air between us thickens with unspoken possibility. I’m suddenly, acutely aware of the curve of her lips, the pulse point visible at the base of her throat, the way her pupils have dilated slightly. I’ve known this woman for a week, yet I can’t remember the last time I wanted someone with such intensity. The kind that blinds and binds you, that leaves a mark.
This could be my downfall.
“No,” I admit, my voice rougher than I intended. “That’s not all it is.”
She holds my gaze, something inviting in her eyes, and that itself is dangerous. “Then what is it?”
How do I explain this ache? This pull toward her that defies reason? What would she think if I told her how I’ve jacked off to her, imagining what it would be like to grip the creamy white skin around her neck, to thrust my cock down her throat, watch her suck me dry?
Would she recoil? Would I offend her ladylike sensibilities?
Or am I right in thinking she wants it too. Wants me to take her in whatever way I can, as rough as I can be.
“I’m not sure,” I say instead. “But I intend to find out.”
A small smile plays at the corners of her mouth. “Always the investigator.”
“Old habits.”
We finish our coffee in charged silence, the air between us electric with things unsaid. When I finally pay the bill and we head back to the car, my hand finds the small of her back—a gesture both protective and possessive, and utterly natural.
The drive to her apartment passes with the same tension, both of us acutely aware of the other, of the narrowing space between professional collaboration and something far more complicated.
A space I’m more than willing to step into.
When we pull up outside the Alto Nido, I kill the engine but keep my hands on the steering wheel, knuckles white with the effort of restraint.
“You don’t have to go back in there,” I say. “Not after what happened last night.”
She turns to face me, a spark in her eyes. “Afraid I can’t take care of myself?”
“I’d be a fool to think that.” I meet her gaze directly. “But everyone needs backup sometimes.”
“Is that what you’re offering? Backup?”
No. What I want to offer is something far more primal, more complicated. I want to follow her up to that apartment, push her against the wall, and finally taste those crimson lips. I want to lose myself in her body until these crude, obsessive thoughts are purged from my system. I want—
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone right now,” I manage. “Perhaps neither of us should be, with everything that’s happening.”
“You’re telling me you’re scared?”
I am, kitten. But not of what you think.
Something shifts in her expression—a softening, a decision being made. She reaches across the seat, her hand coming to rest on mine, cool fingers against my skin sending electricity up my arm.
“Come up, then,” she says, her voice low. “Just for a while.”
The invitation hangs between us, tempting, dangerous.
I should say no. I should keep a professional distance. I should remember that she’s connected to my case, to Cohen’s organization through Marco. That she herself might not be who I want her to be.
I almost reach for the doorhandle, but something stops me.
It’s that last thought.
That there’s something about this woman—no matter how enticing and beguiling she is, no matter how badly I want to take control and fuck her pretty little brains out—that is bad news. Maybe even dangerous. And that she might not have my best interests at heart. I’d wager she only has one person’s best interests at heart, and that’s her own.
Can’t blame her for that either.
“Maybe some other time,” I tell her. “I’ve got work to do. I’m sure you do too.”
She nods, a cool expression coming over her face, as if slipping on a mask. Perhaps I’ve hurt her with my rejection. I think I hurt myself too. At least I know my dick is throbbing in protest.
We part ways and I watch until she disappears into her apartment before I decide to drive back home to take a shower. The warm water manages to knock some sense back into me, and I come in the stream to the thoughts of pinning her in her dressing room and going at her with feral abandon.
The phone rings just as I’m stepping out. I wrap a towel around my waist and answer. “Callahan.”
“They found another one.” Coleman’s voice crackles through the line, grim and urgent. “Six months ago, similar MO. Why don’t you stop by the station?”