by RC Boldt
I’m merely feeling off-kilter because of what happened on the subway, that’s all.
“It would be,” I murmur. “Good thing I have a rule about not kissing on the lips.”
He freezes in place, eyes boring into mine with surprise etched on his features. I brace myself for derision—for him to scoff and cast me aside. “You do, huh?”
I hold his gaze steadfast, a slight tremor rolling through me paired with an edge of yearning I don’t dare acknowledge.
I should shove him out the door, but an invisible force has me frozen in place, silently wishing for him to be different. For him to make me feel different.
To make me feel…something other than bleak emptiness.
“Yes, I do.”
One edge of his mouth tips up, naked longing gleaming from his eyes. His voice is husky and carnal. “Good thing I’m great at circumventing rules.”
When he lowers his head, I go rigid with alarm. His soft lips skim over my cheek and down to the very edge of the corner of my mouth in an almost but not-quite kiss.
A small part of me wants to laugh because this strikes me as such a Lattimer thing to do. He’s not actually kissing me. Getting right to the brink, he’s safe with the technicality, much like he operates with his job.
He rakes his lips over the other far edge of my mouth in the same gentle caress before leaning back. And damn him if he doesn’t look far too satisfied for what weren’t even kisses.
Riddled with breathlessness, I struggle for composure. “You sure do like skirting the line, don’t you?”
Regarding me like one might a skittish animal, he slowly reaches out and tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear. “Sometimes, it’s necessary in order to get the best result.”
Before I dare to ask if he considers those almost-kisses the best result, he winks, his voice a low murmur. “Good night, Doc. See you tomorrow.” He turns and pulls the door open, prepared to leave.
Before he can reach for his briefcase beside the door and make his exit, I shove my hand against the door, slamming it closed.
Rigid with surprise at having the front of my body flush against his back, he doesn’t turn to face me. Slowly, he reaches up to cover my palm that’s splayed flat against the door.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted me to stay.” His voice sounds like it’s been raked over thick gravel as he lets the heat of his palm infuse mine.
Moving to my tiptoes, I press my lips to the exposed skin just beneath his earlobe. His sharp intake of breath fills me with satisfaction that I’m not the only one ensnared in this web of arousal. “You’d be right…but I have some rules.”
He huffs out a hoarse-sounding laugh. “Yeah?”
With my other hand, I thread my fingers through the short length of his hair, and he leans into my touch when I land another light kiss on his flesh. “You can’t stay the night.”
Silence greets my words, giving me the impression he’s awaiting my additional rules, so I continue. “Under no circumstance does this spill over into our professional lives. When we’re at work, we pretend this never happened.”
“And still no kissing on the lips?”
I tense and wonder if he considers this too much trouble to go through to get laid. If he’ll walk out the door because there’s guaranteed to be countless women who would spread their legs for him without any stipulations.
Burning rage incites within me at the thought of him being with anyone else. Curling my fingers tight against the door, I try to ease my hand out from under his, but he holds firm.
He lets out a low grunt. “You really think I could say no to you?” His thumb grazes my hand, sweeping in a slow caress that sends tingles radiating through me.
“You should.” Those whispered words escape me before I realize I’ve spoken aloud. But it’s the truth.
I have nothing to offer anyone aside from my body. That’s all I’ve ever been good for, even when it was taken against my will.
When he drops his hand from mine, I tense and ease away, expecting him to leave.
It’s the wisest choice. I’ve warned him. I suppose I can consider that my sole act of goodwill, but I’m under no illusion that it cancels out all my sins.
With excruciating slowness, he turns to face me. His expression is dark, almost tortured, and it matches his tone. “Why should I say no to you?”
Staring up at his face, my eyes sweep over his sharp jawline and lips. I drop my focus to his throat, my voice muted as I offer the barest truth to him. “Because I’m not like other women.” In a barely audible whisper, I add, “You’re better off with them.”
A groan rumbles from him, bringing my gaze to his. A muscle in his jaw flexes, and he reaches out to cup my nape in his large hand.
With a gentleness I’m not accustomed to, he urges me closer to him. Lowering his forehead to mine, he whispers, “You’re wrong.”
Chapter 41
Landon
It’s so damn hard to resist kissing her on the lips, but deep down, I know it would ruin everything. If that’s the rule I have to deal with in order to be with her, I’ll fucking do it.
For some reason, she’s got it in her head that she’s not the hottest, most brilliant woman alive. I can’t fucking stand her thinking like this. It pisses me off to no end. Which means I need to prove it to her.
Plucking the clip from her hair, I toss it toward the small table where her keys sit, and it skitters before stopping just shy of the edge. Her hair tumbles down in long, thick waves, and I thread my fingers through it.
Angling her head to the side, I capture her earlobe between my teeth, tugging before soothing it with my tongue. Her gasp has my dick rock hard and pressing painfully against the zipper of my pants.
Easing away, barely resisting the urge to tear off our clothes and bury my cock inside her, I stop short at the look on her face. Her expression borders on nervousness and anticipation, but lurking in her eyes is something that has my gut tightening with unease.
Fear.
After seeing it as often as I do with my job, I recognize it distinctly. In children, it makes me want to pummel in the faces of the motherfuckers who victimized them. But in Kennedy, I ache to slay whatever demons she has that made her create a life where she’s alone and solely dependent on herself.
Afraid to let a man kiss her lips or stay the night. Afraid of anything close to commitment.
There’s no way she’s fabricating this. After watching her and working beside her these past few weeks, I know in my gut that she’s not the one who would compromise an investigation of this magnitude.
Just like I know she wouldn’t be anything like her. The thought strikes so fast and with such certainty that I know there’s no way in hell I could turn back now.
Staring down at her, I can’t help but wonder if maybe my mom’s tendencies rubbed off on me, but in a slightly different way. Because I want to take Kennedy in my arms and help her see what I see when I look at her.
I want her to see that she has more to offer than she realizes. That she’s incredible, and once she let me past one of her outer layers, she got me hooked.
I want more—a hell of a lot more. I want to know everything. I want to see beneath that beautiful, aloof exterior.
As if she detects my train of thought, she shrugs off her own coat before shoving mine from my shoulders, letting them both drop to the floor. Her fingers slide beneath my suit jacket to work the buttons of my shirt, and I let her take the lead, instinctively recognizing that’s a need. Control. Having physical control means she can manage her fear.
Parting my shirt, she places her warm palms against my chest, and I shudder at the contact. Guiding her hands down my torso, I stop one of hers overtop my abs while leading her other down further to cover where my cock threatens to burst free of my pants.
When she molds her fingers around me, a harsh, “Fuck,” spills out. Arching against her, I press harder, urging her for more.
Roughly, I hike the hem of he
r dress up, baring her sleek thighs, gauging her expression for any trace of unease or distress but finding none. Her fingers start their work on my belt, but I stop her with my hands. Reaching for my holster, I carefully set my weapon on the nearby table.
Watching her closely in case she has an aversion to guns I’m not aware of, I explain gently, “The safety’s on, but it’s better off sitting there for now.”
She glances at it with an unreadable expression before returning to unfasten my pants, our eyes locked the entire time. My belt jingles when my pants hit the floor and I toe off my shoes. Only when she releases me from my boxer briefs, my cock jutting out toward her, does she break eye contact.
Fingers curling around me, she grazes her thumb along the vein running the length, and my hips jerk in response. Christ, I’ll shoot my load like a goddamn teen with his first Playboy if I’m not careful.
When I gently grasp her wrist, easing her hold of me, confusion crosses her face. “Not yet,” I manage to grit out as I carefully tuck myself back in my briefs.
My hands dive beneath her dress, and I hook my fingers beneath the waist of her black tights, tugging them down. Lowering to my knees on the plush carpeting, I remove her heels to pull her tights the rest of the way off.
I skim my hands along her smooth legs, easing her dress up higher. She holds it for me, revealing the laciest pair of panties I’ve ever seen.
“So fucking beautiful.” Lowering my head, I place a kiss over the top of the fabric.
I gently slide her panties down until they gather at her ankles and she steps out of them. Raking my hands up from her ankles to her thighs, I nudge her legs apart. With my thumbs at her entrance, I spread her pussy to reveal the slickness already there and her gorgeous clit practically begging for my tongue.
Raising my eyes to hers, I find her watching me with a heavy-lidded gaze. “I’ve gotta put my mouth on you, Doc.” My voice is drenched in desperation, but I don’t give a shit. I need to taste her. I want to feel her come apart on my tongue.
Her knuckles tighten their hold of her dress, her voice breathless. “It’s not necessary.”
I try not to gape at her because I don’t want her to shut down on me. But…what in the ever-loving fuck? It’s not necessary? Who the fuck hurt her to the point where she thinks a man devouring her gorgeous pussy isn’t necessary?
“Oh, it’s necessary.” My voice sounds rougher than usual, filled with intent.
I don’t fucking hesitate. I place an open-mouthed kiss on her pussy, my tongue sliding through her folds to taste her. As soon as I thrust my tongue inside, gathering more of her sweetness, I know I’m a goner. Lifting one of her legs, I drape it over my shoulder, then I bury my face in her pussy. Because she’s so. Fucking. Wrong.
It’s motherfucking necessary that I show her my mouth belongs on her pussy.
As I dart my tongue in and out of her, my thumb toys with her clit. Intermittent circles mixed with pinching it between my thumb and forefinger have her pussy growing slicker around my tongue.
“Ahh…fuck,” she breathes out. One of her hands releases its hold on her dress to reach for my head, her nails rasping against my scalp as she presses me closer.
I moan against her, feeling her tighten around my tongue. When I increase the pressure on her clit, she jerks with a breathy moan. Reaching up, I drape her other leg over my shoulder, her back resting against the wall. With my free hand, I cup one perfect ass cheek to spread her wider, and my tongue sinks deeper.
“Latt—”
I jerk my mouth away, my hard glare pinning her glazed eyes. Her lips look rosy, like she’s been biting them to hold back any sound of pleasure.
It fucking pisses me off.
“If I’m tongue-fucking your pussy good enough to make you come, you’d damn well better call out Landon. You hear me, Doc?”
She looks startled but gives a little nod.
“And I want to hear you. All the sounds you make when you get close. When you come. Those are mine. Don’t you dare hide them from me.”
A flare of heat in her eyes mingles with dismayed uneasiness in her expression. It makes me want to beat the shit out of whatever assclown screwed with her.
Whoever the fuck told her she shouldn’t smile or laugh. That she shouldn’t expect to have her pussy eaten out. That she should hide her moans or gasps.
Motherfucker deserves an ass-beating to rival all others.
It dawns on me in the worst moment possible, when I’m between her legs with the taste of the sweetest pussy I’ve ever had on my tongue, and my cock harder than ever.
Dr. Kennedy Alexandre was in a relationship with an abuser.
Fuck me. I should’ve put together all the signs. Closed off and skittish. The fear in her eyes when I put my arm around her on the damn subway and her refusal to kiss on the lips. She’s trying to maintain control after likely feeling like she didn’t have an ounce of it in her abusive relationship.
Dammit. Jaw clenched tight, I infuse calmness into my tone. “You tell me if I do anything you don’t want. Got it?”
A slight softening in her features takes place before she murmurs, “Got it.”
I know wicked intent is written all over my face and can’t help my smirk. “Now, I’ve gotta get back to work.” Lowering my head slightly, I watch her while I trace my tongue along her crease. “This pussy’s gonna come for me.”
A hint of challenge flashes in her eyes and laces her tone. “Is it?”
“Mm. Trust me.” Another long, slow lick has her exhaling sharply, and a satisfied grin tugs at my lips. “It is.”
She gives me what I want, letting me hear her breathless gasps and throaty moans while I relentlessly fuck her with my tongue and toy with her clit.
But the best part is when she moans my name.
“Landon…fuck!”
When tremors wrack her body, she coats my tongue with her wetness that has me nearly coming right then. I pinch her clit before plucking at it gently, and the fingers she has threaded through my hair tighten.
She shudders, her inner muscles still pulsing around my tongue. Once her body goes lax, I carefully lower her legs, bracing her when they tremble unsteadily. Placing one final kiss on her slick pussy, I ease away and slowly rise to my feet.
I wipe my face with the back of my hand, and her eyes track the movement. Mouth still parted, her chest heaves beneath her dress with labored breaths.
Lowering my head, I bring my mouth to hers, but she turns away before our lips can touch. Fuck. I forgot.
“Sorry.” It doesn’t sound sincere because I’m forcing the words from between clenched teeth. I never realized just how damn much I’d want to kiss a woman.
Until now.
I trail kisses along her jawline, nipping lightly until my mouth meets her earlobe. My voice is low and hushed.
“Hopefully, I showed you just how necessary that was.”
Chapter 42
Kennedy
He trails kisses along my jawline, nipping lightly, then veers toward my earlobe. His voice is muted and slightly raspy when he says, “Hopefully, I showed you just how necessary that was.”
A soft sound that faintly resembles a laugh greets my own ears, and I quickly stifle it. My unease dissipates when he draws back to peer down at me with an expression filled with filthy promises.
A smirk teases his mouth, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Hearing you call out my name while my face is buried in your pussy…” His top teeth sink into his bottom lip, eyes growing more heated. “Not sure it can be topped.”
I take hold of his wrist and tug him as I walk backward, deeper into the apartment. “Don’t be so sure.”
He grins at my taunt. “Oh, yeah?”
I nod before hooking the legs of one of the high-backed chairs at the small dining room table with my foot and tugging it out.
Steering him toward it, I tuck my fingers beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs and peel them down, removing them. He kicks them
off, shrugging off his suit jacket, but my focus is drawn to his cock.
I’ve never given much thought to the male appendage before. My experience has included men using them as a weapon. The only other person I’ve been with, I’ve used him and his dick to pleasure myself.
With Lattimer—Landon—it’s different. The tangible fear that usually takes hold in the intimate presence of a man is absent. Alarms blare in my head, warning me that this could prove dangerous in more ways than physically, but the craving to indulge in this man is powerful and overrides it.
I grasp his cock firmly, and it pulses in my grip. His hips give a little jerk when I trace my thumb along the prominent vein running the length. With my other hand, I slide his shirt off his shoulders, and he shrugs it the rest of the way off.
Holy shit. My eyes trace over his full sleeves of tattoos. Beginning at his shoulders and ending at his wrists is a gorgeous multitude of colorful inked designs that stretch over his firm biceps, a few veins cutting a path along them.
I can’t help but trace my fingers across the most vivid of the colors on his right arm where a cross is depicted.
With a pointed glance down at himself, he draws my attention from his tattoos. “I’m a little underdressed here.”
Stepping closer, I urge him back to the chair. A parade of emotions flickers across his face, but he lowers himself in the chair. Suddenly, his gaze darts to the entryway.
“A condom’s in my pants pocket.”
I arch a brow. “Expectant?”
“No.” His mouth twists, tone far more tender than I expect. “Just hopeful.”
A tangible sense of loss bombards me when I drop my hand from his warm body and turn to get the condom, but I dismiss it immediately.
He’s simply a conundrum, and that’s what’s garnering my fascination. That’s all this is.
It’s all it can be.
When I spin around after nabbing the condom from his discarded pants, my legs go soft at the sight of Landon.
Long legs sprawled out, fingers curled around his cock, he glides his hand from root to tip in a motion so languid and somehow sexy, it has my lungs seizing.
