“You cook?” She asked, unable to mask her disbelief.
“I’m killer with cereal and peanut butter sandwiches,” he offered. “I also make a mean spaghetti carbonara.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.” Something intense settled in his expression, he stepped closer, his hands running the lengths of her arms, his touch as possessive as if he’d gripped her.
Anticipation raced across her skin, tightening her nipples as heat pooled low in her gut.
“Okay,” she answered, surprised by her own excitement. “Can you give me directions?”
“You can follow me,” he said, stepping away from her. “I’m parked right next to you.”
An hour and a half later, Beth placed their dinner plates in the sink. A hand closed over hers when she reached for the tap.
“You don’t have to do that,” Braden whispered, letting his lips brush against her ear.
“Force of habit.” She turned in the circle of his arms and leaned against the counter. For a moment, hunger dominated his face and seized her breath.
He put a hand on the counter behind her, leaned in and trailed his lips along her jaw, nipping and nuzzling until he reached her ear. “You smell so good.”
“Liar.” She laughed breathlessly. “I smell like espresso beans.” She wrinkled her nose—no matter what she did, when she left work, she smelled like coffee.
“I always like the way you smell.” He placed an open-mouth kiss against the side of her neck, his tongue raising goose bumps and sending shivers down her spine. Her fingers clutched at the fabric of his shirt as he reached up and pulled her hair free of the tie holding it away from her face. Before it could swing forward, he plowed both hands into the wavy curls, tilted her head and plundered her mouth.
She arched into him, tasting red wine and a barely contained urge she couldn’t name but understood all too well. She wrapped an arm around his waist and threaded her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, her heart slamming against her ribs. She pushed to her toes, brushing her sensitive breasts along the flat plane of his chest, and deepened the kiss.
Whatever restraint he had broke under the force of her response. He pulled her around, backing her out of the kitchen as his tongue danced and stroked against her own. Her back hit a wall, forcing a surprised gasp from her throat that he swallowed as he slid his hands out of her hair, one wrapping around her waist, the other bracing against the wall.
Beth locked a leg around the back of his knee and pulled him closer, pressing them chest to chest and need to need. He rocked forward, sending sparks of undiluted pleasure spiraling through her. He slipped an arm around the thigh she had locked around his leg and hoisted her up until she could wrap both legs around his waist. She locked her hands around his neck and tilted her chin, her fingernails raking through his hair as he pulled his stubbled jaw across the delicate skin of her throat, then soothed it with heavy, tongue-laden kisses.
He carried her down the hallway and through a door into darkness. She clenched her thighs around him reflexively as she went into free fall, bouncing a split second later against the soft surface of a mattress. He pulled forcibly away from her, panting in the darkness.
“I have to…” He reached for something and a soft glow from the bedside lamp filled the room. “I want to see you.”
He knelt between her knees, his eyes raking over her. She let him pull her up, his hands sliding beneath her shirt, lifting it and her bra, over her head in one smooth motion. He ran a possessive hand over her hips, eliciting shivers as his palm splayed over her breast, his thumb and forefinger rolling the nipple he found.
It was all she could do to kick off her shoes and reach for the buttons of his shirt. When her fingers slipped and fumbled, he pulled the shirt swiftly over his head and reared back long enough to yank his jeans and boxers down his legs. Before she could look her fill, he dove for her, depositing wet kisses along her collarbone.
Hands and fingers attacked her jeans until they were a discarded puddle on the floor. His teeth grazed a nipple at the same time skillful fingers slid beneath her underwear and into the damp folds at the center of a need so consuming it burned through her with the intensity of a firestorm.
She pulled a knee up and open, even as she restlessly rubbed her other leg against him, beckoning him closer.
He answered her plea with tongue and lips that moved along the flat plane of her stomach. He pulled the last scrap of fabric that separated them away with a violent tug and pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh. The first touch of his tongue against her stole a cry from her throat and wrenched her first climax from her. Her entire body seized against his.
He didn’t let her catch her breath. He sheathed himself with a condom from the nightstand, grasped her thighs with clenching fingers and entered her with one dizzying stroke. Her heart pounded in her ears as she felt his pulse pound within her before he withdrew in an agonizingly slow stroke, then plunged back in.
They built a rhythm, a frenzied pace that left them both gasping. The sweat of their bodies glazed their skin and slicked their movements. His hands caught hers; he linked their fingers together and pressed the back of her palms to the bed above her head.
She lifted her chin and caught his mouth, their tongues dancing parallel to the rest of them. When his breath came faster and faster, and the weight of him pressed heavier and thicker within her, she jerked her mouth away and scraped her teeth across the skin of his shoulder. He cried out, his entire body shaking with the force of his release, rushing her headlong into a second climax so strong, so stunning her entire body clenched and shuddered around him.
Slowly, her senses began to filter back to her. She tasted the salt of his skin against her tongue and heard their combined breath flooding the room. It took her two tries to get her muscles to uncoil enough to pull her legs down from where they wrapped around his waist. She settled for entwining them with his, not yet ready to allow him to retreat.
Braden shifted and withdrew but pulled her against him as he rolled to his side so they were pressed chest to chest, their legs still locked together. He pulled his hand through her hair and along her spine as he studied her face.
“Christ,” he said, his words thick and unsteady. With each passing second, he seemed to come back to himself, the possessive grip on her butt loosened, and the heavy slide of his hand against her back became a gentle caress. “I…God, are you alright?”
Beth smiled and nodded into the crook of his neck and let her eyes fall shut. Her hand splayed over his chest, absorbing the steady thump-thump of his heart. “Perfect.”
***
The cell phone vibrating on his nightstand woke Braden out of a satiated sleep. What time was it? He flung his arm toward the nightstand, Beth’s warm weight pinning him to the bed. She slept deeply, her head resting against his arm, her hair falling down her shoulders like curling lengths of silk. Sometime during the night, the sheet had slid down her back and now rested at the top of the curve of her ass. Phone forgotten, Braden gently shifted out from beneath her and allowed his fingers to skim along the length of her spine. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder and pulled her closer, pressing his leg between hers, burrowing his face against her neck. The moment his eyes began to droop, the text message indicator on his phone sounded.
Braden muttered under his breath as he carefully extricated himself from Beth and the warmth of his bed. He reached for his phone and opened the new message.
We need to talk. Call me. Chase
Braden toggled through the missed call logs. Chase had called. Twice. At 4:30 in the morning.
“Fuck.” Braden rose, pulled on his boxers and stepped into the hallway, softly closing the door as he dialed Chase.
Chase picked up on the first ring. “Good. You’re awake.”
“I am now. This better be important, Chase. It’s 4:30 in the damn morning.” Braden leaned irritably against the kitchen counter, “You ge
t hit by another Cutlass?”
“No.” An awkward silence filled the line.
Braden sighed. “What’s wrong, and where are you?”
“Out.” Chase paused. “We need to talk.”
“And this couldn’t wait until morning?” Braden grumbled, pulling the carton of orange juice out of the fridge.
“You need to know who’s sleeping in your bed.”
“Oh, for the love of God, not this again.” It took a moment for the rest of Chase’s implication to sink in. “How did you know Beth was here tonight?”
Silence filled the line again, then Chase said, “I stopped by earlier.”
“Whatever.” Braden took a long swig from the orange juice container, ignoring the voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Angie telling him to get a damned glass. “You’re off base here, Chase. She’s got nothing to do with Markko.”
“You don’t know her,” Chase retorted. “She’s setting you up.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Braden worked to keep his temper from boiling over. “We don’t even know what Markko’s doing here. So he’s followed me around. To then assume he’s somehow involved with Beth is premature.”
“Jason’s dead.”
Anger morphed to dread. “When?”
“Tonight. I found him in an alley about an hour ago; his throat slit.”
“Shit.” Braden rubbed hand across his face. “You think Markko’s responsible?”
“It makes sense.” Chase’s steady breathing came through over the line, a sure sign he was trying to control his temper.
“I’m sorry, Chase. I know you were friends.”
“We worked together. He was good at what he did.”
Braden let Chase’s casual dismissal slide. His brother had been friends with Jason for nearly ten years. No matter what he said, Braden knew Jason’s death would tear Chase apart. He also understood that Chase would refuse to talk about it.
“I don’t understand how this ties in to Beth.”
“Jason died in the alley across the street from where she parks her car. The same alley Markko was in that first night,” Chase continued in a harsh tone. “Whether you like it or not, Markko and that woman are connected.”
“Her name is Beth, Chase. Would it kill you to say it?”
“Are you sure about that?”
“About her name?” Braden slammed the orange juice onto the counter, sloshing some out onto the granite. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’ve got someone checking into her, and so far, they’re having trouble finding anything.”
“Maybe that’s because there’s nothing to find,” Braden ground out.
“Look, you may think I’m being paranoid, but better paranoid than stupid. They are connected. We need to figure out how, before someone else dies.”
“And just how do you propose we do that?” Braden snorted. He could only imagine how Beth would react to So, there’s a homicidal asshole following us around. Any idea what he wants?
“She working tomorrow?”
“Yeah. The morning shift.”
“Then meet me at her place. We’ll sniff around. We’ll know if Markko’s been there.”
“I haven’t been to her place. How do you propose we find it?”
“I’ve got the address.”
“Do I even want to know how you managed that?”
“She had to list her address on her employment records.”
The blood drained from Braden’s face. “Please tell me you didn’t break into Angie’s records, Chase.” Angie would go ballistic if she ever found out.
“Fine. I didn’t break into Angie’s employment records.”
Braden sensed the quiet amusement in Chase’s voice. He’d never been appropriately afraid of Angie. “Shit. You better have put everything back exactly the way you found it.” Angie would notice if anything in her office above the café was out of place. God help them if she ever realized they were responsible.
“She’ll never know the difference. What time is Beth leaving in the morning?”
Braden didn’t like the way Chase sneered Beth’s name, as though it were something foul, but he let it go. He’d deal with it tomorrow, after Chase was confronted with the reality that Beth had nothing to do with Markko.
“I don’t know. I’ll call you when she leaves.”
“Fine.”
Braden shoved the carton of orange juice back in the fridge. “Has Jason been taken care of?”
“I handled it.” Chase’s voice was quiet, and Braden wondered exactly how he’d handled it.
“Chase…”
Chase cut him off. “Call me in the morning.”
The line went dead before Braden could say anything else. Tossing the phone on the counter, he flipped the lights off in the kitchen and made his way down the dark hallway, quietly pushing open the door to his bedroom.
Soft light from the balcony spilled onto the empty bed, revealing twisted sheets spilling over the side of the mattress.
He glanced toward the bathroom, the door hung open and the lights were off. As he turned to head back into the hallway, a shadow of movement on the balcony caught his attention.
Braden stepped through the open door, the fresh scent of impending rain heavy on the night air.
His breath caught in his throat when his eyes landed on Beth. She stood at the railing, eyes closed and head tilted toward the sky, the wind caressing her face and fondling her hair. Barefoot and in nothing but the shirt he’d worn last night, the soft glow of the street lights illuminated her silhouette beneath the thin fabric. A spark of awareness touched her, and she glanced over her shoulder, her dark blue eyes capturing him.
“Sorry.” She pulled at the hem of his shirt. “I woke up and you were gone. I just needed a little fresh air.”
When Braden couldn’t make his tongue wrap around words, she continued, “The view is incredible.”
“Yes, it is.” The wind caught her hair and lightning flashed in the distance. He pulled Beth into his arms, running his hands up underneath the hem of the shirt, delighting in her breathy moan as his fingers skimmed across her inner thigh, slipping higher to gently caress her. She arched into him, tilting her face for a kiss, and all thoughts of Chase and Markko fled into the night air.
Chapter Nine
Beth glanced at the time and dialed the café.
“The Grind.”
“Hi, Marianne.”
“Hey, girl!”
“I’m running a little late this morning. Is the café really busy?”
“Nah. It’s actually a little slow.” Marianne paused, Angie’s screaming in the background filtering through the line.
“You tell him!”
Beth winced as Marianne’s shout slammed into her ear. “What?”
“Ah sorry, honey,” Marianne said with a laugh, “Angie’s shouting at Joe again. He’s dropping off some produce.”
“What is it this time?”
“Whether or not the cherries he delivered are in season. But we both know that’s just the excuse.” Marianne lowered her voice. “I swear, one of these days, I’m going to walk into the storeroom and find those two going at it.”
Angie’s voice rang out loud and clear. “And if Joseph Taylor would stop delivering substandard produce, I’d stop yelling at him.”
“Sure you would. For a week, maybe two. Then you’d find a new reason,” Marianne countered.
“Ridiculous!”
The light changed as Marianne and Angie continued to bicker, Beth momentarily forgotten. Still, she felt as though she were standing in Angie’s kitchen, rather than sitting in her car. She could see it all, Angie’s glare and thin, pressed lips, Marianne’s casual posture and dismissive expression.
When did I come to know these women so well?
“Well, it’s true! Fighting, flirting, it’s all the same to you!” Marianne’s voice cut through her thoughts and Beth choked out a laugh.
“You’re on spe
aker and I can hear you laughing, Beth. Don’t think I’ll forget it.”
“Oh, don’t listen to her, she’s just frustrated.”
Beth only laughed harder. God, she loved these crazy women.
“What you need is a long night of hot sex. It’s done wonders for Beth.”
Beth choked and nearly dropped the phone. “What?”
“Well, it has. You’re running late. And I’ve never heard you laugh so much in my life. I put two and two together.” Marianne’s voice sang with the smugness of someone who knew she was right. “And of course, I got to see the opening act last night. Was it as hot as it looked?”
“Marianne!” Beth tried to contain her embarrassment and redirect the question. “He just stopped by to say hello.”
“Where are you, Beth?” Angie’s straightforward question startled Beth out of her embarrassment.
Grateful for the change of subject, Beth spluttered, “I just turned onto Prescott…”
“Prescott? Bit out of your way this morning, aren’t you? I didn’t think Prescott was in your neck of the woods,” Angie said, her tone dry.
“Angie!” Beth squeaked, at the same time Marianne caught up to the conversation.
“Prescott’s up by Braden.”
“We’re even,” Angie announced. “Now, I’ve got muffins that need baking. Don’t come in this morning, Beth. Go on home and we’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t keep her on the phone too long, Marianne.”
Marianne squealed and said, “Never made it home last night, huh?”
Beth didn’t reply.
“Oh, don’t bother. I know you didn’t. So, how was he? Thorough I’ll bet, judging by the way he devoured you in the kitchen last night.”
“Oh my God, Marianne!” Mortification rushed through her.
“I want details!” Marianne paused, as though racking her brain for which question to ask first. “Was it good? Oooh, how many times? Did you sleep at all?”
“We are not going to have this conversation.” Relieved she didn’t have to work, Beth headed home. It’d be nice to go back to her place and hold onto the giddy feelings still rushing through her for a little while longer. Reality could wait until tomorrow.
Hunting Human Page 8
