Let Him In (Let Him Trilogy)

by Davis, Sharon

  BEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!

  Lacey yelped and jumped backwards, her hand flying up to her chest as her heart high-fived her tonsils. She snapped her head in the direction of the noise. Blinked. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she murmured as The Man poked his head out of the van’s open window.

  “We meet again,” he said in a voice as gravelly as the road she stood upon. He flashed her a straight, even, unnaturally white smile. “I am beginning to suspect you may be stalking me.”

  Pompous ass.

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” she replied, and then rolled her eyes. “You are so not my type.”

  The door flew open and The Man’s polished Oxfords hit the dirt. He stormed toward her on the longest pair of legs—encased in another pair of black slacks—she had ever seen. His unbuttoned black silk shirt whipped in the breeze his fast moving body created, as did the long bangs of his otherwise short hair.

  Sweet gherkins, he was a sight to behold. There should have been a giant S tattooed on his chest...his unbelievably broad chest...his unbelievably broad chest lightly dusted with dark hair—

  Not your type, huh?

  Oh shut the hell up.

  The Man’s scent reached Lacey before he did, and she couldn’t resist taking a deep breath, greedily drawing his intoxicating essence deep within her. Then, he was looming over her, staring down with those ice-blue eyes. She half expected laser beams to shoot out of them, disintegrating her on the spot...or her clothes.

  I must have hit my head when I fell. Again. Damaged my brain. Again. Yeah, that’s definitely it.

  “What is then?” he said.

  “Huh?”

  “Your type.”

  Lacey cleared her throat. “That’s none of your business.”

  “Nonetheless, I wish to know.”

  “Do I look like a fucking genie to you?” she spat, immediately regretting her sarcasm when he gave her a painfully slow once-over.

  “No,” he said, his eyes lingering on her suddenly taut nipples. “You look like an angel.”

  Lacey snorted as she quickly crossed her arms over her breasts, which felt really heavy all of a sudden. And why the hell were her nipples tingling like that?! “Oh, please—does that really work on anyone?”

  “You would be surprised.”

  “Actually, I wouldn’t. Most women are incredibly gullible.”

  He arched one dark brow. “But not you.”

  “No,” she replied, tilting her chin up. “Especially when it comes to men.”

  “I am not like—”

  “All the others?” Lacey rolled her eyes. “And yet you’re familiar with the slogan of the male species.”

  He gave her a lop-sided grin. She vaguely recalled thinking his lips were nearly non-existent the first time she’d seen him, but now they seemed rather full. Did he get stung by a bee? Have an allergic reaction to shellfish? Or perhaps Heather had done what Lacey had wanted to do and tried to slap that irritating smirk off his face.

  “I think it is time for—”

  Her breath hitched. “What?” she asked, stepping back. “Time for what?”

  He chuckled, the sound making her scalp prickle. “Proper introductions,” he said, and then, with a heart-stopping smile, offered his hand. “Zane.”

  Lacey regarded the appendage as if it was a big fat hairy tarantula. “Sorry, not much for the touchy-feely stuff.” As if determined to prove otherwise, her body responded to her statement with a burst of throbbing heat at the core of it, which almost made her moan out loud.

  “Already,” Zane said, dropping his hand, “something in common.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Now, are you going to divulge your name or do I have to refer to you as angel from this point on?”

  Forcing her gaze from the muscles threatening to rip the thin fabric of the sleeves they were encased in, Lacey said, “I don’t think your girlfriend would appreciate that—she’s a real bitch.”

  “I have heard it takes one to know one.”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere with me,” she said, returning his smirk.

  “Then what will?”

  “Nothing in Heaven or Hell or on earth,” she replied sweetly.

  “You are a little brat,” he bit out through clenched teeth, flexing his chest muscles as he uncrossed his arms. “One in crucial need of a lesson in manners.”

  “And you are a cocky asshole,” she snapped back, uncrossing her arms as well. “One in crucial need of a lesson in how to get the fuck over yourself.”

  Zane had bridged the short distance between them before Lacey even realized he’d moved, and then leaned in so close that their noses almost touched. His heated, forceful breaths caressed her lips as his mouth hovered over them. “Careful,” he growled.

  Lacey felt the familiar icy tingle of adrenaline zipping through her body. Her deep, slow breaths turned short and quick. Her heart sped up, tapping against her chest as if to say, Psst! Hey, Hey! Not a good idea!, as she jabbed his chest with her finger. “Why don’t you shove your careful not so carefully up your ass?”

  Zane seized her, his large hand completely swallowing her wrist. “Do not ever do that again,” he snarled, his eyes appearing to be a shade darker than they’d been only a couple seconds ago.

  “Or what?” Lacey snorted. “You’ll hurt me?”

  Moving faster than Lacey could blink, Zane’s other arm shot out to snake around her back. With a hard jerk he pulled her forward, smashing her body against his. “Yes,” he answered, his already deep voice lowering an octave, “by taking you across my knees.”

  Lacey’s fast-beating heart felt like it had shot up her throat and into her mouth. She couldn’t breathe let alone speak, which was a damn good thing since her pride was demanding that she tell him she’d like to see him try it. What stopped her was the look in his darkening eyes. She didn’t need to be a mind-reader to know he was secretly hoping she’d challenge him so that he could make good on his threat.

  And she had no doubt that he would.

  Lacey could envision him throwing her over his shoulder and then carrying her to his van. Sitting down on the back seat and then forcing her across his lap. Peeling off her shorts and then spanking her until her butt was as red as she knew her face was just from thinking about it.

  Zane’s deep, rumbling growl yanked Lacey out of her mind and into her body. The internal thoughts became external sensations as she became aware of his dizzying scent, suffocating heat, smooth hardness—

  Lacey’s breath hitched when her brain registered what was pressing into the soft flesh of her belly. “Let me go,” she whispered in a raspy voice.

  He searched her wide eyes for several nerve-wracking moments before asking, “Not until you tell me who you are.”

  “Just—” Her voice cracked. She cleared her dry, scratchy throat. Swallowed hard because of the total lack of saliva in her mouth. “—a girl losing sensation in her fingers.”

  His eyes probed so deep she felt their reach all the way down to the tip of her toes. “You are not just a girl.”

  Lacey didn’t know what that was supposed to mean and she didn’t want to. “Let me go,” she said, her voice sounding so small. “Please?”

  One corner of his lush mouth curled up. Zane relaxed his grip on her wrist but didn’t release it. “Please...I like that word. If you were to say it in conjunction with my name, I may be more inclined to grant your request.”

  He wants you to beg...like a dog.

  Anger kicked fear’s ass at the realization, propelling Lacey into action—

  Pointless action, as it turned out.

  His vise-like grip made it difficult to breathe let alone thrash her arms and legs like she had intended and she ended up just wiggling against him, like a little worm stuck on the end of a big hook.

  Zane sucked air in between his clenched teeth, his face contorting as if in tremendous pain. “Fuck,” he groaned, releasing her and stepping back so fast she almost tripped over her own feet. He
turned away, raking his hands through his hair as he repeated the word over and over again in between short breaths. “Fuck…fuck…fuck.”

  Lacey was too baffled by his actions to even think to be scared or angry anymore. And then when she thought that maybe her knee had connected with a certain tender spot on his body again, the corners of her mouth began to rise—

  That was until Zane suddenly spun back around looking like a wild animal on the verge of ripping her to shreds. “Who are you?”

  “Nobody!”

  Zane shook his head hard and fast, the movement stirring the air around him and filling her nose with his scent. Patchouli and death. Danger and musk. “Who are you, goddamn it?!”

  When Lacey didn’t answer he took one giant step forward, leaving less than an inch of space between them, and then growled. Her scalp prickled at the animalistic sound.

  Relax...if he was going to hurt you he would have by now. He’s just trying to intimidate you. He’s all bark and no bite, remember?

  Lacey thrust her chin up and out as she straightened her back, an action she regretted at once when her breasts brushed against his chest.

  With a sharp inhale Zane’s eyelids slammed shut.

  Time seemed to stop as he simply stood there, not breathing, his body rigid, his jaw clenched tight.

  Move back for Christ’s sake, move back!

  Lacey was about to do just that when Zane expelled the breath he’d been holding. His eyes snapped open and the feral look in them turned her spine into ice, giving her gooseflesh and making her nipples become even harder. She quickly crisscrossed her arms over her breasts and then furiously rubbed her hands up and down her arms as if she was cold.

  In truth, she was anything but.

  As if he had simply flipped a switch inside his brain, Zane’s entire demeanor changed. His body relaxed. His gaze softened. And his compressed lips transformed into a smile warm enough to melt an iceberg within seconds. “Here,” he said, removing his shirt, “allow me.”

  Zane reached around her back to drape the thin silk fabric over her shoulders. Lacey shivered when his long, thick fingers brushed her collarbone as he pulled the front panels of the shirt together. And then he took a step back, as if wanting to respect her personal space all of a sudden. “Tell me who you are...please.”

  Please? The word sounded as foreign coming from his mouth as French would from hers, and it freaked her out more than anything he had said or done so far.

  Will he chase after me if I run? Yes. Yes, he will. What will he do if he catches me? No—when he catches me. Will he make good on his earlier threat? Yes. Yes, he will.

  Zane suddenly stepped forward, his muscles bunching and relaxing over and over again as if he was readying himself to pounce. “Planning a quick escape, angel?”

  Lacey blinked. Psycho and psychic—a bad combination. Very, very bad. “Why would I be doing that?”

  Zane’s mouth twisted into a knowing smirk. Arching a brow, he said, “Why indeed.”

  His condescending tone and patronizing stare was simply too much for her wounded pride to ignore. His shirt slipped off her shoulders as Lacey squared them, planting her hands on her hips.

  Apparently she was psycho, too.

  “You’re not scaring me if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  Leaning forward slightly, Zane spoke sotto voce. “I am not trying to.”

  “Well even if you were you wouldn’t be successful.”

  “Is that right.”

  Before she could respond Zane stormed off, kicking up gravel as he charged toward the van. He climbed into the idling vehicle, slammed the door, then revved the engine.

  With rapid-fire heartbeats Lacey stood her ground. He won’t actually run over me...will he?

  Zane stomped on the gas and the van shot forward.

  Lacey was about to dive into the tall grass at the side of the road when, at the last possible moment, he jerked the steering wheel so hard she was certain the vehicle was going to flip. Its back tires just barely missed her feet as it shot past her like a bullet, quickly disappearing down the road in a cloud of dust.

  “I knew...Cujo...wouldn’t use...his fangs,” Lacey gasped in between gulps of air.

  With each breath the exhilarating high from the adrenaline rush faded more and more until all she felt was drained and depressed. “My God, I really have lost my mind.”

  Lacey glanced at the PRIVATE KEEP OUT signs attached to the first two trees of the tree-lined gravel road from which the van had emerged. “Oh well...don’t have much use for it anyway,” she murmured, deciding she just may have to go on another revitalizing adventure in the near future.

  Lacey Chase: Adrenaline Junkie.

  Giggling, she started the trek back to her house. As she walked by it she grabbed the silk shirt laying in the middle of the road with a dusty tire print running up its back. She shook it off and then buried her face in it. “Mmm, God,” she moaned, becoming aware of the hot, almost painful ache between her trembling thighs as she inhaled deeply. With it brought the memory of the feel of Zane’s own arousal—every frighteningly long, thick inch of it.

  Bursts of heat stung Lacey’s cheeks as she slung the shirt over her shoulder. She sprinted back to her house, up to her room. Slammed the door, slid down it. When her butt hit the floor she remembered Zane’s threat of a spanking and the vivid scene that had played in her mind immediately thereafter.

  She didn’t realize her hand was inside her shorts until her finger touched her throbbing nub.

  With a gasp Lacey sprang to her feet. Balled up Zane’s shirt and threw it. Peeled off her clothes and then ran into the bathroom. The first spray of ice-cold water only made her rock-hard, tingling nipples even worse. And it did not cool the heat at her core, or ease its needful ache. What the hell? Did cold showers only work on men?

  A mental flash of Zane with water streaming down his tensed, naked body and trickling off the fingertips of his large hand as it furiously pumped the monstrosity between his firm thighs made Lacey pound her fist against the side of her head.

  Maybe if she took care of her little problem she’d stop thinking about the arrogant jerk...

  Lacey didn’t bother to towel off. She slipped on Zane’s silk shirt, which clung to her damp skin, and then laid down on the bed. She bent her knees, squeezed her thighs tight together as she cupped her full breasts. Her eyelids fluttered as she brushed her thumbs over the hard, wet tips.

  I think I’m in trouble.

  She pinched her nipples. Tugged on them. The moan-inducing sensation traveled straight to her throbbing nub and aching center.

  Big, big trouble.

  She let her legs fall open. Slid one hand down her belly, to her hairless mound. Sucked air between her clenched teeth as she slowly ran her fingertip over the hood of her clitoris. Up. Down. Up. Down. “God,” she panted when she touched the hard little tip and her slick inner walls clenched in response. She felt so damn hollow down there, so empty.

  Speaking of BIG...

  Yanking away her hand as if her sex had grown teeth and bitten her exploring fingers, Lacey sat bolt upright. Turning at the waist, she punched her pillow and then fell back. She quickly buttoned up Zane’s shirt and then rolled onto her side and closed her eyes…

  As if she was going to be able to get any damn sleep.

  Zane paced back and forth, water dripping off his soaked hair and body and hitting the bedroom carpet with a soft plop. He struggled to recall the feel of Lacey’s body pressed hard against his. The softness of her breasts. The warmth of her skin. The heavy ache in his sac. The throbbing of his cock.

  The memory of each eluded him.

  Fisting his hands in his hair, Zane stormed over to the oak-framed mirror on the wall opposite his bed. “Speak,” he snarled, staring into his cobalt-blue eyes. “God damn it, speak!”

  Blodbad remained silent.

  With a bellow of rage and frustration Zane drew back his arm, about to slam his fist into the glass
when what felt like hundreds of razor-sharp scalpels sliced through his insides. He doubled over with a hiss, and then groaned as he wrapped his arms around his midsection. So rattled and incensed by what had happened with Lacey, he had returned home instead of keeping his dinner date with Barbie, a decision he now regretted as the pain brought him close to tears.

  Hunched over, Zane walked to the oak night stand where his cell phone lay and dialed her number. Barbie answered on the first ring. “Master,” she greeted him, “where are you?”

  “On my way,” he growled, hanging up before she could speak again in that annoying, whiny voice.

  Zane dressed as swiftly as he could and then made his way to the basement for a drink to take the edge off—the last thing he needed was another fuck up. He poured a shot of blood from the bottle he kept in the mini fridge under the bar, grimaced as he brought the glass to his lips. Cold and thick was not how he preferred his blood, but he knew if he visited The Room there would not be a soul left alive by the time he was finished, and the last thing he felt like doing was going on a hunt...

  At least not for blood donors.

  Zane gulped back his shot, had three more just to be safe, and then headed out.

  Two hours later he walked through the door of Barbie’s condo. The scent of her blood punched him in the face and gut, almost making him double over again from the intensity of his hunger.

  He had to be very, very careful tonight.

  Zane’s gums began to tingle and he failed to prevent his fangs from descending as he walked up the stairs to the second floor. The pounding drumbeat of Barbie’s favorite song, “Stripped” by Shiny Toy Guns, grew louder as he made his way down the hall.

  Stepping into the master bedroom, he found her kneeling on the bed wearing nothing but what she thought was a seductive grin. Handcuffs, their metal glinting in the flickering light of at least a dozen red candles placed throughout the room, dangled from between her clenched teeth. Next to her lay a second pair, plus a satin blindfold and a ball gag.

  Thanks to the caramel-haired beauty with the acerbic tongue, Zane now knew why he had always abhorred being touched: he could not feel it. Or, more accurately, enjoy it.