“I’m your guy.”
She nodded, but her smile shifted to something he couldn’t read. Serious. Deep. She looked at him like she’d cut open his heart and exposed an anatomical flaw that defied scientific logic. “I’ve been thinking.”
He nodded, keeping his face smooth. “I hear you, beautiful. So long.”
No expectations. He turned toward the window, intending to make his escape before she called the cops on him.
She slammed him back against the wall so hard he sucked in a breath, gasping at the grinding in his collarbone. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going? I’m not done with you yet.”
He pressed his palms against the wall, determined not to touch her. If he touched her again, he didn’t think he’d be able to leave. She’d probably end up shooting him. Would be a blessing for him, but he didn’t want to put her through that. “Figured that meant you wanted me to leave.”
She sighed with exasperation. “If I wanted you to leave, I’d say get the fuck out. I said I’d been thinking. About me, not you.”
He stared down at her, trying to understand what she was getting at.
“I hurt you just now. I see it on your face, the way your jaw tightened up. I forgot your shoulder probably wasn’t healed up yet.”
“I’m fine.”
She jammed the heel of her hand against that same bum shoulder, making him drop his head back against the wall. “I wasn’t apologizing.”
“Good.”
“At first, I thought I liked rough sex because of my sister. Like you suggested, maybe I was figuratively fighting off her attackers every time I took a guy to bed. But I don’t think one has anything to do with the other. I watched Ranay with your brother, and she doesn’t have any hang-ups about what she likes or blame that desire on something from her past. She likes being his slave and that doesn’t make her weak or lesser in any way. She distracted the guard long enough so I could nail him. Without her, I’d have been raped, murdered and tossed over the side of the boat.”
“Like hell. I would have gotten to you.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. My point is that nothing screwed her up in the past that now makes her want to be mistreated. If anything, my sister’s ordeal made me a better cop. It gave me the burning purpose I’ve used to advance my career. But I think I’m wired the way I’m wired because that’s just how it is. Does that make sense?”
There was something in her eyes that made his breath lock up in his chest. Something soft. Almost tender. From the woman who’d risked her life, allowed a Russian boss to pistol-whip her and threaten her with rape, but called out for her team because she thought he’d been shot.
Broken arrow. Imminent destruction. Abandon the entire mission, even if they didn’t find the captives.
Not for herself.
For him.
“I used to be ashamed of what I liked. I hated it. Most of my life, I tried to deny what I wanted, and then wondered why I was so miserable.”
“Are you suggesting that getting off on pain has nothing to do with my sociopathic father who indirectly taught me to like my own blood?”
“Your father fucked you up, definitely. But what I’m saying is maybe you would have been a masochist anyway.” Her eyes darkened as she dropped her gaze to his lips. “There are a lot of ways I can hurt you that don’t involve blood.”
“Hurt me all you want, but in the end, I think I’ll have to bleed.”
“Are you sure, though? Or is that just a connection your mind made when you were trying to figure out what you needed?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” He hesitated, not wanting to push her away at all. But he had a feeling blood would always be an integral part of his kink. He’d used it too long. Needed it too long. And if that was a problem for her...
She brushed her lips over his and gave him soft, nibbling little bites. It did interesting things to his blood pressure. “Blood’s not a problem for me. I’m just saying I think we ought to explore all our options. You know, in the name of research.”
She wasn’t pressed up against him, so she couldn’t know that his dick had definitely missed her. He’d been semi-hard since he’d caught her scent on her pillow before she’d even walked into the room. “What does that mean?”
Cupping his crotch, she gave him a knowing wink and headed to the bathroom. “It means you can take a shower with me. If you dare.”
Not even an army of Vlasenko’s goons would keep him away.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Vincent
It was a race to see who could get undressed the quickest. Mads won, but only because she didn’t have as many weapons as he did. Standing beneath the spray of water, she watched with increasing admiration as the pile grew. Mostly knives, but two guns, spare cartridges, electronic explosive triggers, wire and two burner phones.
“Impressive.”
He tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it on top of the pile. “You ought to see my complete collection.”
“Do you have a place somewhere?”
“Just a couple of storage lockers spread out across the globe. I haven’t had so much as an apartment since...” He paused with his pants open, trying not remember. He hadn’t had a home since he’d left Mom and Charlie at seventeen. Killers didn’t have homes. “Years.”
She swatted water into his face, breaking through his grim thoughts. “If you don’t hurry up, all the hot water will be gone.”
Her eyes gleamed and he hoped the wetness on her cheeks was from water not tears. If fearless Mads shed a single tear for him then he’d fucking fall apart like a baby. He sat on the toilet to untie his boots and strip off his socks. “Unwrapping this much masculine perfection takes time.”
“I’ll say. Get that perfect dick in here pronto.”
He shot her a grin and stepped into the tub. It felt so strange to laugh and joke with anyone, let alone a woman. It was almost like he was...alive. A very strange sensation, especially with no blood in sight. He glanced around the shower stall and didn’t even see a razor. At least his knives were close. Evidently he glanced over at his weapons, betraying himself.
“You won’t need them,” she whispered, sliding her hands over his chest. “You can touch me too, you know.”
He settled his hands on her waist. “I was waiting for you to beat the crap out of me first.”
She stroked her fingers down his abs. “How about we try something a little different, at least to start.”
“What do you have in mind?”
She dropped her fingers beneath his balls and then squeezed the whole package. Hard.
His lungs seized up and he shuddered. It felt like she’d dumped a bucket of boiling oil over his head, sending steaming sensation flooding through his entire body. A sound escaped from deep in his chest. A plea for more.
“I’ve got strong hands.” Emphasizing her words, she gripped him harder. His dick swelled, filling her palm. Once she had him hard, she let go and concentrated on his balls. “I don’t think you have to bleed to enjoy this.”
For most guys, getting their balls squeezed in a vise grip wouldn’t be a turn-on. But he wasn’t most guys, and without blood, even that pain might not be enough to keep him hard. The thought of having to admit to this sexy, gorgeous woman that he couldn’t keep an erection for her made his stomach churn. He’d rather pick up his gun and blow his brains out than admit she wasn’t turning him on.
She let go of his balls and leaned back against the wall out of the shower spray. “You’re not convinced, are you?”
“Like I said, I’m fucked-up so bad I don’t know what’s possible.” Bracing his hands on either side of her head, he leaned in and gave her a soft kiss of apology. “Tell me what you need. Let me at least give you that.”
“Keep kissing me,” she w
hispered against his mouth. “And let me touch you.”
He closed his eyes to hide his doubt and tasted her lips. How could she taste so sweet when she was fully capable of punching him in the face or threatening him with a knife? Kissing was good, definitely. But it wouldn’t be enough.
Hot water beat against his shoulders but he couldn’t relax in the steam. Her hands roamed over his chest. Playfully. Totally unlike what they’d shared in the Bahamas. Despair clogged his throat and he twisted away, too ashamed to give her his mouth when he couldn’t—
Her nails scratched over both his nipples, making him jump with surprise.
“No blood doesn’t mean I can’t still hurt you a little.”
He swallowed the lump strangling him. She pinched both nipples, squeezing harder until he grunted. “You really think a few scratches, pinches and squeezes are going to make me come?”
She rubbed her face against his chest until she settled her mouth over his left nipple. “It’s worth a try, tough guy.”
Her skin against his felt good, yeah. Great, actually. She wrapped her arms around him and stroked her hands up and down his back, so he tried to give her the same pleasure. He cupped her breast and her hardened nipple pressed against his palm. She wasn’t getting to kick his ass and she was still into it. The least he could do was use his mouth and hands to give her some pleasure.
Rolling her nipple between his fingers, he gripped the side of her neck in his teeth. He didn’t bite, exactly, but used the pressure of his jaws to hold her close. Her ragged groan was music to his ears. Pressing biting kisses up her throat and across her jaw, he finally sealed his mouth over hers.
She arched into him and her right hand slid down to his buttock. Her nails dug into his ass, not breaking the skin but sharp enough that his body remembered the pain of a blade to his throat. Involuntarily, his hips arched against her.
Lifting his head a moment, he looked into her eyes.
“Oh my God, is that a hard dick I feel digging into my stomach?”
He growled at her, making her snicker. “You’re not supposed to laugh at a man at a time like this.”
She pinched his nipple again and his head fell back. Her nails raked across his lower back and he could feel the burning tracks in his skin. Not blood, but good just the same. Damned good. Too good, maybe. Sweat trickled into his eyes and his skin felt too tight. The steam from the shower beating on his back? Or her?
“A time like this?” She scraped her teeth across his Adam’s apple. “Or this?” she asked as she scratched a path of fire down his spine. Only she didn’t stop there, taking her nails down his crack. The pain that made him grind against her.
Holy fuck. She scratched him again and again, giving an extra little dig across his asshole with each pass. In moments, he shot a load against her stomach that left his knees trembling and him draped across her gasping for breath.
She’d done it. She made him climax without a single drop of blood. Thank God he could blame the moisture on his cheeks on the shower. He couldn’t even feel embarrassed about coming so quickly. Resigned to his dick in one hand and a knife in the other, he’d given up hope of ever being able to hold a woman without dripping blood all over her. How did you say thank you for that kind of gift?
Dropping to his knees in front of her, he buried his face in her pussy.
She widened her stance, but he couldn’t get close enough. He wanted his whole face in her. He wanted to drink her until he drowned in her juices or the shower, whichever came first. Lifting her leg, he braced her foot on the side of the tub and dived back in. He licked the full length of her slit and sucked her flesh into his mouth.
“Vincent...” Her voice quivered, tight and worried. Not rough with pleasure. Though her thigh trembled in his grip, she wrestled the same kind of demons as him. Could she come without fighting him like a would-be rapist? Or would she have to punch and stab her way to climax?
He lifted his head enough to whisper, “Hurt me. Dig your nails into my head if you need to.”
For once, he wished he had hair that she could pull, though her nails cutting into his scalp made her other scratches burn. Especially his ass.
She squeezed his head, clawing at his scalp and shoulders. The harder he sucked her clit, the deeper her nails sank into him. He pushed her thighs open more, pinning her against the tile so he could thrust his tongue deep inside her.
Shuddering, she came on his face with a guttural cry he’d never forget. A sound of relief and pleasure both, and most important, hope.
I can make love to her without needing a knife. She can make love to me without kicking my skull in.
There’s hope for both of us. That we might actually...
What? What did she want from him? They barely knew each other.
Damned if I’m leaving her now.
Cold water pelting his back made him climb to his feet. He wrapped her close, smirking at her rubbery legs. “Oh my God, is that a post-coital glow on our faces, or did you turn the water too hot?”
She clung to him and it was damned nice to know that while she wouldn’t hesitate to take a shot when she needed to, he’d managed to rock her world as hard as she’d wrecked his. “No blood. No fighting. I think we set a new record.”
She squawked when he heaved her up over his good shoulder and carried her still dripping wet to her bed. She could have fought. She could have easily bucked out of his grasp or jabbed him in the throat. But she allowed him to take her down to the mattress beneath him.
She looked up at him, a smile tugging at her lips. “What the hell are we getting ourselves into here?”
“The hell if I know, but I’m not leaving. You’ll have to shoot me to get rid of me.”
Solemn, she searched his face. “You barely know me.”
“What I know is you’ve given me more than anyone in my entire life, and I’m not talking about sex. You’ve given me hope. You’ve given me trust when you should have put a bullet in me and left me for dead. If you need time, I’ll give it. I’ll give anything you want. But I’ll keep coming back for more until you tell me to fuck off.”
“All I did was hurt you a little. You...” Her eyes gleamed in the moonlight, so damned soft and bright that he couldn’t breathe. “You see me.”
He nodded, remembering how they’d first seen each other at the hotel. He’d known then that she’d be trouble, and she’d pinned him right away when no one else even noticed him in the shadows. “And you see me like no one else.”
“Do you still want to die?”
He really thought about it instead of giving a knee-jerk denial. His murdering father was dead. His brother was still alive and safe from the monster who’d spawned them. Charlie had love and hope and happiness, and while Vincent had been happier than he could say for him, he’d never expected to receive the same.
But with Mads Archer smiling up at him, how could he even think about wanting to die? “Are you done with me?”
Her lips quirked. “Hardly.”
“Then why are those cops sitting outside waiting for me?”
“You just now decide to ask that?”
“All I could think about before was you.”
“What if all this was a grand scheme to distract you long enough for them to swarm in and shoot you?”
“Then I’d die with a big smile on my face.”
She laughed, but dropped her gaze to the scabbed wound on his shoulder. “They’re here in case I had any... issues.”
“With me?”
“They don’t know you like I do.”
“They who?”
She traced the jagged circle gingerly. “My boss. His boss. I don’t know how high up it goes. Everybody wants you.”
Unease crawled through him. “Everybody wants me dead.”
�
�No!” She looked back up at him. “Not at all. They want you to work for them. My phone rings all day long with people asking me if I could hook them up with a way to contact you. Mostly, they want to know if you’re staying with the CIA, or if you’re open to alternatives.”
He stared at her, trying to make sense of it. She’d joked easily before, but her eyes seemed earnest. “They want me. To join their team. Like FBI? Or who?”
“FBI, ICE, human trafficking teams, organized crime task forces. You name it. Everyone wants a piece of you.” She shoved him off and rolled him over flat on his back. Straddling him, she gazed down at him with a possessive look that wiped all his confusion away. “But I told them all to go to hell.”
He squeezed her thighs, slowly working his hands up her hips to slide up her back. “Why’s that, beautiful?”
She grinned down at him with a hungry, hard look that made his cock stir. “Because I’m first in line.”
* * * * *
To purchase and read more books by Joely Sue Burkhart, please visit her website here or at www.joelysueburkhart.com.
Turn the page for an excerpt from the first book in Joely Sue Burkhart’s A KILLER NEED series, ONE CUT DEEPER, now available at all participating e-retailers.
Now Available from Carina Press and Joely Sue Burkhart
Her needs are dark. His are dangerous.
Read on for an excerpt from
ONE CUT DEEPER
Chapter One
I could tell a lot about a man by watching him handle his dog.
At the vet clinic where I worked, we had the Lovers, who indulged their dogs’ every whim, even if that meant the animals were shredding their own leashes or terrorizing our office cat until she hid on top of the file cabinets. These men had good intentions and truly loved their animals, but they had no concept of discipline. As a result, their dogs refused to follow the most basic commands.
Then we had the men I called the Haters. They were the assholes jerking on the leash, yelling and treating their dogs like they were a useless waste of time. It didn’t matter how hard the dogs wagged their tails, these men were never going to be affectionate. They’d probably bought cute puppies for their kids and now saw their grown dogs as nothing more than smelly chores. A dog’s loyalty and affection were wasted on them.
Two Cuts Darker Page 26
