Rogue

by Izzy Gomez

“I wouldn't have been any happier with my mom around. And it wasn’t always bad. My dad loved me in his way. Todd and I have always been close. We kept each other sane.”

  Greg kissed her forehead, then took her plate and set both in the sink. “Remind me to thank Todd next time I see him. I’d hate to think I’m dating a crazy person.” He reached for her hand but she stepped back.

  Wariness edged with panic crept into her throat. “Is that what we’re doing? Dating?”

  He looked around the kitchen as if an answer might be hiding in the cupboards. “You just cooked me dinner at my house. We went for a moonlit walk on the river. We got frozen custard and made out in a park.”

  He stepped closer, forcing her against the counter. His broad body blocked her escape. Her head filled with his fresh, earthy scent.

  “Yeah, I’d say we’re dating.”

  He kissed her. A long, slow slide of his lips against hers, his tongue against hers, his body against hers. She didn’t want to, hated the immediate power he held over her, but she melted. Went weak in his arms, wound herself around his chest to hold him closer.

  Closer.

  His kiss moved across her cheek to her jaw. Soft nips over her skin, electrifying her face. He took her earlobe in his mouth and she groaned.

  Slowly, he drew back. He combed his fingers through her hair until he held the base of her skull. She dared to meet his gaze and nearly stopped breathing at the hunger burning in his blue eyes. Her heartbeat pounded through her veins.

  “We both have an early morning tomorrow,” he said, voice raw.

  Unable to look away, she nodded.

  “Maybe we should head to bed early." His thumb stroked her lower lip.

  Bed. She swallowed hard. She hadn’t thought it possible, but her heart pounded harder. Faster.

  Hard. Fast.

  Her knees wobbled. Almost like she was…swooning. How pathetic. But damn, she needed this man. Needed him in an all-encompassing, unfamiliar, terrifying way she had no power to stop. No power to resist.

  “What about...waiting?" Was she a moron? She’d been ready to jump into bed the first time he touched her. And now she didn’t just want him. She needed him. She craved him.

  She even liked him.

  Liked him enough to say, “You wanted us to get to know each other first.”

  His breath burned her neck as he trailed his mouth along her skin. Skin that felt too tight. Hot and achy.

  “I didn’t realize how difficult it would be.”

  “I didn’t realize I was such a difficult person to know." Her voice came out barely a breath. Maybe she could talk once he stopped nibbling on her earlobe.

  “I didn’t say you were difficult. What's difficult is I can’t spend five minutes with you without imagining how you’ll look spread open beneath me while I’m inside you.”

  Her heart was going to pound clear through her chest. Using only his mouth, he was going to kill her.

  Abruptly he pulled his body away and held her face between his hands. Needing more contact, she curled her fingers into his shirt.

  “You do crazy things to me, Amanda Schreiber. And I definitely want to get to know you. Right now that includes getting to know what you feel like naked and wrapped around me.”

  She was definitely going to swoon. She couldn’t breathe. Could barely stay conscious. So she had no response to his thrilling declaration. Had no defense when he kissed her again. She melted, clutching him as he drank from her.

  She wasn’t sure how they got to his bedroom. It seemed like she blinked and found herself lying across his bed, his body moving above her, his mouth following his hands as he unbuttoned her shirt. His finger teased her skin, tingles skittering along her stomach, adding to the sensation gathering inside.

  Every touch, every kiss, every sigh added to the brewing storm, centered between her thighs. Centered where his hardness pressed into her.

  This would be the best sex of her life, no question. It already was, and he hadn’t removed a single piece of clothing.

  Suddenly frantic, she pushed at his hands, trying to hurry him. When he batted her away, she tugged on his t-shirt. She needed to touch him the way he touched her. Needed to drive him as wild as he drove her.

  He laughed against her stomach, his breath tickling her electrified skin. She inhaled sharply.

  “You need to learn patience." He circled his tongue around her navel.

  Her head swam as she tried to formulate a response. Tried to find the words to tell him she had no patience. She needed him now.

  “This from the–oh, God..." Whatever she’d been about to say dissolved as he teased his fingers over her hipbones. Discovering one of her secret turn-ons.

  He caught on quickly, replacing his fingers with his lips. His hands moved to her jeans while his mouth played over her skin and she writhed beneath him.

  Finally, he pulled away to stand next to the bed. She met his glassy gaze. He stared back, eyes dark and shining, face taut. Like he was ready to pounce.

  An electric thrill shot through her and she shuddered.

  He reached for her hand and tugged until she was sitting. He eased her shirt off her shoulders and bent to kiss her neck. "You're beautiful."

  She ignored the urge to argue and took the opportunity to slide her hands under the back of his jeans to feel his hot, smooth skin. She didn't consider herself so, but he made her feel beautiful. Made her feel too many things she couldn't name.

  Her fingers brushed the small of his back and he stiffened. Like she'd flipped a switch, suddenly he couldn’t get his clothes off fast enough. Before she had time to figure out what she’d done to spur him on, he was naked and stretched out beside her. He tangled his fingers in her hair and devoured her mouth.

  His impatience set something inside her free. She responded with matching passion. Tugged to get him closer, to touch him everywhere. She’d never experienced this before, this ability to let go.

  Once again, he moved down her body, his kisses less gentle than before. More exciting. He focused on her breasts, teasing one nipple, then the other. Amanda squirmed beneath him, loving the way he made her feel. Loving the sensation of his skin against hers. Loving that he made her stop thinking.

  When he abandoned her breasts, she groaned. But before she had time to be disappointed, he nudged her thighs apart. Slid a finger through her dampness. She groaned again, this time in pleasure.

  More than pleasure. Something about this man, about the way he touched her, made her feel things completely foreign. She knew it made her vulnerable, but in that moment she couldn’t stop it.

  And then that probing finger slid inside her and even the faintest thoughts melted from her mind. She moaned and lifted her hips. He met her with a soft kiss between her legs.

  She gripped the quilt, trying to hold on to some small piece of her mind. How could she remember this, relive this perfect moment if she couldn’t think at all? She wanted to hold onto this memory.

  It was a losing battle. He ran his thumb over the sweet spot on her hip while his tongue worked the sweet spot between her legs and his finger found the sweet spot deep inside.

  He lifted her to the place where thought didn’t exist. Where there were no forty-eight hour shifts or evil half-brothers or wicked stepmothers. Only Greg and the way he made her feel. The way he made her forget.

  In the distance, a noise cut through the fog. She struggled to ignore it, but training trumped pleasure.

  Her damn cell phone.

  She tried to squirm away. “It’s my...phone,” she panted.

  He lifted his head and looked at her, his mouth glossy. From her. She almost came just from the sight. He moved his finger inside her and her vision swam.

  “I’m sorry." She could barely find the air to speak. “It could be...about...oh god, that...”

  He ran his tongue along her thigh as he dug around next to the bed. When something hard hit her arm, it took a moment to realize it was her cell.

 
“Stop, please,” she said with no conviction. Her fingers were too clumsy to work the phone.

  Instead he swirled his tongue across her hip in a way that made her shudder.

  “Don’t mind me. You take your call. I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing." He flashed a wicked grin before lowering his face.

  She might have been irritated if he weren’t so damn talented. If she didn’t think she would kill him if he dared to stop.

  “Amanda—“ her voice caught. She sucked in a deep breath and continued, “Schreiber.”

  “I’m at White River Trail. By the zoo. You need to get down here.” Al sounded like he was talking to her in a tunnel. Or maybe that was the blood rushing in her head.

  “I...I’m in the middle of something. Can I..." She bit down on her lip to hold in a moan. Greg apparently had magic fingers. “Can I call you back in fifteen minutes?”

  “Fifteen minutes?” Greg said against her skin. “Give me a little more credit.”

  She reached to smack at his head, but he moved his fingers just right and her hand fell to the bed, limp.

  “You need to see this.”

  “OK. Give me a...few...minutes.”

  “You OK?”

  “I’m fine, Al.”

  “Al?” Greg looked up with an exaggerated frown. “Should I be upset that you’re talking to another man when my fingers are inside you?”

  For reasons she couldn’t explain, it was the sexiest thing she'd ever heard.

  She stared at him, taking in the satisfaction on his face, the wild hunger in his eyes, the erotic sight of having a good-looking man between her spread thighs. The whole world stopped. Only the two of them existed.

  “Schreiber?”

  She struggled up from her lusty haze. “I’ll be there soon.”

  “Did you hear what I said about Cole?”

  “Greg?”

  She thought she heard Greg mutter something like “That’s more like it,” but she was concentrating on Al and trying to ignore–yeah, right–what Greg was doing. She had to get off the phone before he gave her the most explosive orgasm of her life. With Al on the phone.

  That would be wrong in so many ways.

  “I can’t get him on his cell. See if you can get through. He needs to be here.”

  No need to tell Al she knew exactly where Greg was. “Sure.” She ended the call and dropped the phone. It clattered to the floor.

  Greg renewed his assault with a vengeance. He licked and stroked and touched and kissed and teased. Amanda’s thoughts evaporated. She struggled to focus on what she needed to say.

  “We have to...have to..." What did they have to do?

  “I caught that." He swirled his finger inside her and her hips arched off the bed. “But first we have to finish this.”

  “We don’t...we can’t..." Why was she protesting? It felt so...holy shit!

  She should make him stop but it was so good, too good. She wound her fingers into his hair and pulled him closer.

  “You’re close, baby. Let me make you feel good. You deserve this."

  He didn’t let her answer. Just nudged her thighs farther apart and ran his tongue along her burning skin. She couldn’t have stopped him if Julia Child showed up and offered to teach Amanda every cooking technique she knew. Sorry, Jules. I'll have to catch up with you later.

  Everything inside got tighter. Hotter. Achy. Electric. Her head spun. Her heart pounded. Her breasts heaved with each ragged breath. He was right; she was so close. Too close. She wanted it to last. Wanted to memorize the moment.

  But nothing could stop it. With one twist of his finger, he took her to the peak. Held her hovering there for the longest, most beautiful second of her life.

  Her body shook, her voice crying out in raw gasps. She sailed through the oblivion of pleasure, drawn on and on by his touch.

  Slowly, the sensations ebbed, dissolving into a peacefulness she’d never experienced. She was aware of his hard, hot body next to hers, of his hand smoothing her hair out of her face, stroking her skin. Part of her wanted to roll into his arms, feel him against her. But she wasn’t ready to move yet. Didn’t want to shatter the perfection of the moment.

  “You’re beautiful,” he murmured against her cheek.

  She snort-laughed.

  And there went the perfect moment.

  He propped up on his elbow. “Don’t give me false modesty crap. You’re gorgeous." He feathered his finger down her side.

  She shuddered at the sensation. “I will admit to being moderately attractive. But I’m not gorgeous.”

  “Sure you are. I only date babes.”

  She opened her eyes to find him grinning. She couldn’t stop herself from letting her gaze wander across his smooth, muscled chest, down his flat stomach. It settled on the strong, thick erection against her thigh.

  Her hand followed her gaze, her fingertips brushing over the purple flesh at the head.

  Hissing, he caught her wrist. “Duty calls. And if you do that, it’s going to be next week before I let you out of this bed." He pulled her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss across her palm.

  “But now you’re making me selfish. And it’s not my fault.”

  He sat up and pulled her with him. “I'm sure you’ll return the favor soon enough.” He stood, giving her a breathtaking view of him in all his naked glory.

  Wow. Yum.

  He was so wrong. He was the one who was gorgeous. Her mouth actually watered, looking at him.

  He flashed her a cocky smile. “Don’t worry, you can have all you want later.”

  She laughed–when had she ever laughed while naked with a man?–and shoved his hip.

  He joined the laughter as he tossed her shirt at her. “Get dressed. It’s bad enough I had to compete with Al for your attention. But I’m the only one who gets to see you naked.”

  “So what is it you dragged us out of bed for?" Greg stepped over a pile of dog shit as he approached Voegler.

  Voegler glanced over Greg’s shoulder where Amanda had just pulled in behind him. Voegler cocked an eyebrow but didn’t comment.

  Let Voegler think what he wanted. It was true anyway. Or, would have if it weren’t for his damn phone call.

  “We found Hank.”

  Greg looked past Voegler to where Dr. Russell squatted with Joe Roundy.

  Shit.

  “Shit. Amanda’s gonna...”

  “Yeah." Voegler ran his hand over his messy hair. “I probably shouldn’t have called her, but she deserves to be here.”

  She deserved for none of this to be happening.

  “What’s the deal here, Al? Why all the bells and whistles?" Amanda stopped between Greg and Voegler, gesturing at the mobile crime scene van, the floodlights, the yellow tape, the people.

  Greg met Voegler's glance over her head and nodded.

  Voegler straightened his shoulders. “We found another body.”

  Chapter 19

  Deep lines creased Amanda's gorgeous face. Greg wanted to smooth away those lines, kiss away the worry.

  Christ, what was with him? Yeah, he liked her. And wow, the almost-sex was phenomenal. But wanting to protect her? Way out of his ballpark.

  “Is this related to Karen’s case? Or Martina’s?”

  Without thinking, Greg rubbed circles across her back. She drifted closer to him.

  “It’s your brother,” Voegler said grimly. He looked as pained as Greg felt.

  Amanda swayed and Greg grabbed her arm. Her hair brushed his chin. After their evening together, he expected a jolt of inappropriate arousal. He was caught off guard when instead, tenderness washed through him. His arms tensed with the need to pull her against him and provide shelter.

  “What? No. What? No. No.” She looked back and forth between him and Voegler. “No. No.”

  “Schreiber…” Voegler lifted his hand, then glanced at Greg and let it drop.

  She yanked away from Greg and jerked her gaze toward Roundy and Dr. Russell, then started toward t
hem.

  “It’s not him. Probably someone who looks like him so you guys mixed it up.” She stalked across the grass to almost the exact spot they’d found Karen. “But you’ll see. It’s not.”

  Greg and Voegler followed.

  How the hell did Greg handle this? The cop part was easy. Even the colleague role he could figure out.

  But the boyfriend? What the hell was he supposed to say? How the hell was he supposed to do his job without dismissing Amanda?

  She deserved to have someone there with her. Tonight, that couldn't be him. This royally sucked.

  Houston, we have an understatement.

  “Amanda.” Dr. Russell stood between Amanda and the body. Her gaze darted to Greg and Voegler, then back to Amanda.

  “I just need to reassure Al this isn’t my brother,” Amanda said, voice too cheerful. “He hates being wrong, which makes it—“

  She froze and so did everyone else. Her expression melted and Greg's chest ached. Face blank, she stood motionless. For endless, agonizing moments she stared at her brother’s vacant eyes.

  Voegler was right; the stab pattern on Hank's chest looked similar to Karen’s. His face had been slashed but, unlike his mother, Hank still had lips.

  “No. This can’t be…”

  She started trembling. Afraid she would fall–and yes, concerned about preserving the scene–Greg pulled her away from the body and into his chest. Was she even aware of the tears burning his neck or the sobs shaking her shoulders?

  “It can’t…”

  Greg tucked her head under his chin and let her lean on him. He stroked her hair as she voiced her whys and hows and denials and confusion.

  Slowly he moved her toward their cars, nodding for Voegler to keep working. Once Greg sent her home, he could do his job.

  And later, too much later, he could give Amanda what she needed from him.

  She leaned against her car door and looked at him, eyes unfocused. “This can’t be happening.”

  He had no idea what to say so he ran his thumb across her cheek and cupped the back of her neck. “I’m so sorry." Was there a more inadequate phrase?

  “I know I can’t stay here, but...” She scrubbed her hand over her face. Covering her eyes, she said, “Let me tell him, OK?”