Seduction

by Violetta Rand

  He shakes his head. “I love you, bro, but when you get a wild hair up your ass—everyone’s fair game. You’re carrying around too much hostility. That’s enough to scare a grown man, much less a little girl who weighs a buck fifteen at best.”

  He’s right. During police academy, all my academic test scores were off the charts with one exception. The excruciating psych test labeled me as high risk, combative, and too competitive. My sergeant sidestepped the results and sent me to counseling for further evaluation. I ended up on the psychiatrist’s leather couch, naked, with her pumping away on top of me. Needless to say, she sent a glowing report to my superiors the next day. Matter closed.

  “Am I supposed to be happy she went on a date with her ex?”

  “Date,” he repeats suspiciously. “You’re not telling me something. I remember the way Marisela looked at you. If I found the perfect woman and she stared at me that way, all bets would be off.” He leaned back, draping his arm over the back of the booth.

  “What about Leslie?”

  “Gone.” He frowns.

  “Tabitha?”

  He laughs bitterly. “Married.”

  I suck in a breath. My cousin married his high school sweetheart a week after graduation, bought a house, and had a kid the year after. They divorced four years later. He’s overly cautious about who he gets involved with now.

  “Does Marisela have a sister?”

  I roll my eyes. “Two.”

  He rubs his hands together. “Single?”

  “Married.”

  The waitress brings us ice water and coffee. “Ready to order?” she asks.

  I don’t even bother looking at the menu. I order the T-bone steak and eggs combo; Lucas does the same.

  “I’m seriously thinking about that offer,” I say.

  “Joining the Lake Jackson P.D.?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Thought you loved it here.”

  “I do.” I flick the edge of a cardboard foldout on the center of the table. “But if things don’t work out between me and Marisela, I may need a serious change of scenery.”

  “What about your house and the landscaping business?”

  “I can rent it out for a pretty good profit. Joe runs the shop; I just sign the checks these days.” I pick up my phone and stare at a picture I took of Marisela her first night at the Devil’s Den. She’s flashing me one of those toothy supermodel grins. Damn it. I slam my fist on the table just as the waitress arrives with our food.

  “Everything all right?” she asks, concerned.

  I look at her name tag. “Didn’t mean to scare you, Mary.” I give her one of those seductive smiles that usually make women wet between their legs. “Hard night.”

  “Hope things get better for you, sugar.” She pats my hand before she leaves the table.

  “Dog.” Lucas smiles, using his fork to mix his scrambled eggs with ketchup.

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Still using the Hanson charm to make women weak in the knees.”

  “No,” I deny, half laughing. “I simply defused a situation before it got out of hand.”

  “Been reading the police academy handbook again?’

  “Yeah,” I say. “I think the section on smiling at women is in the community policing chapter.”

  He snorts and stabs a piece of steak. “Think I called in sick that day.”

  “That’s why you don’t get any ass.”

  “Shit…”

  We finish eating, then let Mary refill our coffees.

  “I’ll be in town for a week,” Lucas informs me. “Why don’t we meet up at the Den tonight?”

  “Sure you’re ready for the big city?”

  “I think I can handle your podunk club after hanging out at the Men’s Club.”

  “Poolside caviar and cigars.”

  “For men with discerning taste—you like your women a little bit more on the rustic side.” He tries to provoke me.

  “Be there at eight,” I say, standing and dropping a twenty on the table. “We’ll see about rustic.”

  We fist bump and I make my way outside. Before I reach my car, my phone rings. It’s Marisela.

  I grit my teeth. “Baby…” I can hear her sniffling.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Me, too.” I hate when she cries. “Where are you?”

  “At Macey’s.”

  I take a deep breath, reminding myself to stay calm. “Want me to come over?”

  There’s a pause. “I think we both need some space, Craig.”

  “Why?” My shoulders tense instantly.

  “After last night…” Her voice wavers. “I want a chance to settle in.”

  “Are you breaking up with me, Marisela?”

  “No!”

  I breathe a sigh of relief.

  “I’m working tonight,” she says. “Then I’m taking the rest of the week off.”

  Shit. She’s not on the schedule. If I’d known before, I would never have agreed to meet my cousin at the club. Should I tell her? “Lucas is in town.”

  “Really?” she asks. “Are you guys going to spend some quality time together?”

  “That’s debatable.”

  She chuckles. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “He wants to party.”

  “Dunkin’ Donuts?”

  I love the sound of her tinkling laughter. “Making cop jokes now?” I ask. “God, baby…” I need to inhale her, touch her. “You’re killing me again.”

  “I miss you already,” she whispers. “I want you inside me.”

  I bite my fist; my dick goes rod hard. “Let me come over.”

  “Not now,” she says. “But I’ll call you soon.” She hangs up.

  I decide to rely on the element of surprise tonight. She asked for space, but if I show up at the club as a paying customer—she won’t refuse me.

  Chapter 21

  When my cousin asked me to meet him at the club, I didn’t know he was bringing five guys along. Off-duty cops with department credit cards are dangerous in a titty bar. Lucas introduces me, then we head inside. Mama Beth takes a look at me and waves us by without asking for the cover charge. Tuesday nights are slow, but there’s a basketball game on tonight, so it’s pretty crowded around the big screens. I choose a couple of tables in VIP, then go to the DJ booth to check out the dance list. Marisela has the number ten slot—she got here early.

  Dave and I high-five. “What’s up, bro? Working?” he asks.

  “Nope, here with my cousin. Send a few dancers to VIP later,” I say.

  There’s a trace of a smile on his lips, but he still looks at me like he can’t figure out why I’m here on my night off. Hanging out at the Den doesn’t happen that often. “Making good on a bet with my cousin,” I explain.

  “Should I guess?”

  “He thinks our girls can’t compare to Houston dancers—described them like something out of Deliverance.”

  He laughs and grabs the list. “I know who to pick.”

  Before I leave, I take some bills out of my wallet and slap them down on the counter. “Take Marisela off the dance list.”

  “Seriously?” He counts five hundred dollars out loud.

  “Yeah, I’ll take care of her.” I head back to my seat.

  “Marisela to the DJ booth,” Dave calls over the music, wasting no time.

  Lucas grabs my arm. “She’s here tonight?”

  I bite my lip and look over my shoulder to make sure Marisela isn’t here yet. “Yep,” I say. “Didn’t know she was working before we made our plans.”

  “Wanna go somewhere else?”

  I shake my head. “I appreciate it, but it’s cool.” I’m pleased to know there’s still a sliver of chivalry left in my family. Lucas is a better man than I’ll ever be. He reminds me of a guy I went to high school with who asked me if he could date my ex-girlfriend after we broke up.

  One of the waitresses shows up with a tray of longnecks and shots of tequila
. She passes them around; the guys suck down the shots and let loose, caterwauling and slapping the tabletops. I glance at my watch. It’s only eight thirty and they’re already raising hell. None of the girls have even showed up yet. I rub my chin and look at the VIP entrance again. Where is she?

  “Work it out,” Lucas advises. “You look as nervous as a groom on his wedding day.”

  “Great analogy,” I say.

  Suddenly, Lucas looks over my shoulder and goes quiet. I follow his gaze. Marisela is standing a few feet away, wearing a red mesh bodysuit that hugs every curve and matching heels. Fuck—she takes my breath away. Crazy curls cascade over her shoulders. I can see her nipple rings. And that tiger tat makes me want to lick her between the thighs.

  I stand. “Marisela.”

  She purses her ruby-red lips and looks around the table. “What are you doing here, Craig?”

  “Remember Lucas?” My cousin stands and offers his hand.

  “Sure,” she says politely, shaking it. “Having a party?”

  Lucas comes to my defense. “Co-workers. We’re attending a legal conference downtown.”

  “Cops?” she whispers.

  I nod, then gently pull her aside.

  “Hey,” one of the guys calls. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

  I ignore him. “Sorry, baby. We made plans before I talked to you on the phone.”

  She shrugs and adjusts the strap on her left shoe. “Are you staying in VIP all night?”

  “Yeah,” I answer. “So are you.”

  The crease that shows up between her eyebrows whenever she gets mad or confused is so freakin’ cute I’m tempted to kiss it. “You’re the mystery guy who paid five hundred dollars to take me off the dance list for the rest of the night?”

  I make a sweeping bow. “You’re mine.”

  “Seems to be one of your favorite things to say to me,” she says apprehensively.

  She’s still upset about last night. “Give me a chance to show you how much I mean it.”

  She stares at my lips, then her gaze strays to my crotch. “That’s why I asked you to give me some time. I can’t think straight when you’re around, Craig.”

  “Is that a bad thing, baby?”

  She throws her hands up. “No, but that’s not my point. I’m overwhelmed.”

  I place my hand on her shoulder. The heat from her body makes me shake all over. “I’m really trying here. My money spends as well as anyone else’s.”

  She inhales, then a tiny sigh escapes her lips. “I don’t want your money,” she starts, then directs me to the table in the corner. We both sit, facing each other. “I want you, Craig, more than anything…” She folds her hands on top of the table.

  “Stop running away, Marisela. There’s nothing you can say or do to talk me out of this relationship. Understand?” I lean forward and sweep some stray hairs out of her eyes. “Besides, I can’t possibly let you go. No one bakes apple pie as good as yours.”

  That makes her giggle.

  “See,” I tease. “See how easy it is for me to make you laugh?”

  “Among other things,” she reminds me.

  I reach below the table and adjust myself, because thinking about our sex the other night gets me rock hard. “Come home with me tonight.”

  “I don’t have anything clean to wear.”

  “Really?”

  “I don’t want to borrow anything from that secondhand clothing store you call a guest room.”

  I arch a brow. She’s jealous. “Secondhand store?”

  “What else can I call it?”

  “Try asking why I have all those clothes, for starters.”

  She scrunches her face. “All right.” She looks all serious now. “Do you take trophies?”

  “Like a serial killer?”

  She wiggles her hips like she’s uncomfortable. “Never thought about it in those terms. But if the shoe fits…”

  “Lucas’s sister stayed with me last year while she finished up her master’s degree at A&M. Part of her dissertation included managing a charitable organization. She started a branch of Mary Magdalene’s Closet, a Catholic charity that provides business attire for former prostitutes so they can find respectable jobs.”

  She covers her face with both hands. “I’m so stupid.”

  I watch her every move, loving the fact that she’s jealous. “No, you’re not,” I say. “But it does concern me a little that you think I’m the kind of man who needs souvenirs to remember my sexual conquests.”

  She props her elbows on the table, still looking embarrassed and ashamed. “What else was I supposed to think?”

  I reach over and caress her cheek. “With that fertile imagination, who knows?”

  “How many women have you slept with?” she blurts.

  I let out a growl. “That’s not a fair question.”

  “Yes, it is,” she insists.

  “We’re way beyond that, Marisela.”

  “Called my bluff on that one.” She folds her arms over her chest. “I’m curious, that’s all.”

  “Can we change the subject?”

  “Ten?” she asks.

  I shake my head.

  “Forty?”

  Silence.

  “A hundred?”

  “Marisela.”

  “Oh. My. God.” Her hands tremble.

  “How many boys have you kissed?”

  Her eyes grow wide. “Five or six.”

  She’s practically a virgin and I’m a douchebag for sleeping around so much. “Our pasts don’t matter, darlin’. We need to focus on the present and honor whatever commitments we make with each other.”

  “Do you mean that?” Her big, blue questioning eyes meet mine.

  “I love you, Marisela.” I do—every goddamned inch of her—inside and out.

  She threads her fingers through mine, but quickly withdraws when the waitress sets two shot glasses on the table. “From your buddy,” she says, pointing at Lucas.

  More tequila? I suck on a slice of lime first, then drink. Marisela sniffs at her glass.

  “You shouldn’t be drinking in here anyway,” I say, taking it from her hand. I swallow the shot and grimace afterward. “That crap will burn a hole in your throat.”

  A few minutes later, three girls slink into VIP. I smile at Meredith and Sarah, but scowl as soon as I see Desire. She stops and thrusts her hand on her hip, looking totally pissed off that Marisela and I are sitting together.

  “Over there,” I gesture with my thumb. As much as I dislike Desire, she remains one of our most popular dancers.

  “I’m leaving.” Marisela gets up.

  I snag her wrist. “Stay.”

  She closes her eyes, obviously thinking. Then Arch Enemy’s new song, “You Will Know My Name” starts. Marisela’s eyes snap open. She mouths the first two lines: Their judging eyes watching me, it’s all I’ve ever known. When I try to open up my heart, I am ridiculed and torn apart…

  The girls strip for Lucas’s friends. I take a long, hard look at Marisela and pat my lap. “Dance, baby.”

  Determination burns in her eyes as she positions herself between my thighs. The thrashing beat of the music is a perfect way for her to burn off some anxiety. I know her too well; she thrives on the physical. I remember the day I introduced her to the punching bag. She sparked to life—anger seeping from every pore. That’s what she needs now: to take her frustration out on me. I’m here to catch her if she stumbles.

  Lifting her leg, she rests her left foot on my shoulder and arcs backward. My gaze is locked on her stomach at first, then slowly moves to her crotch. She rotates her hips, using her hands to caress herself. I’m gripping the sides of my chair so hard I’m sure my knuckles are white. Our eyes meet as she raises herself. Then she drops to her knees and squeezes her breasts together. I want to slide my shaft between them—lick and stroke until she screams my bloody name. Without breaking eye contact, she pinches her nipples, fingering her hardware. I close my eyes, feelin
g a change in the rhythm of the song—guitars screaming, drums thundering. When I open my eyes again, she’s on all fours facing away from me, her ass bouncing up and down.

  I lean forward, tempted to give her a spanking. Or to grab handfuls of flesh and slam into her.

  She flips around, her face just below mine. She licks her bottom lip seductively and raises herself high enough to kiss me. That’s it. I cup the back of her head with one of my hands and steal a kiss, only this time it’s animalistic. My head feels like it’s going to implode. Our tongues swirl together, but I seize control, holding her so she can’t break away. I’m in fucking paradise—wedged between her sweet sensuality and the wild things I fantasize about doing to her. Both her arms encircle my neck and she nearly pulls me off the chair. I deepen the kiss, sucking all the air from her lungs.

  Seconds later, we both retreat, shocked and amazed.

  She rolls back on her heels, tracing her kiss-swollen lips with her tongue. “Wh-what just happened?”

  Kismet, baby—pure, unadulterated, meant-to-be-together-forever shit. How am I supposed to give her space when she’s kneeling between my legs, looking up at me with those fuck-me eyes? I let out a frustrated growl, scrambling to find some way to explain. To change her mind. The music ends and we’re suspended in silence. We don’t move. Another song starts.

  “Am I dreaming?” she whispers, sounding so vulnerable.

  I raise my palm and she quickly threads her fingers through mine. “Want me to show you how real this is?”

  “I—I…” She looks up and frowns.

  “Think the song ended already,” Desire calls from over my shoulder.

  Marisela lets go, then climbs to her feet. I twist around. “What’s going on, Desire?”

  “Sam McKay bought you a table dance from me,” she says, looking triumphant. “As for Marisela, Sam’s waiting for her.”

  I don’t want another man fantasizing about her—looking at her—touching her. I start to protest, but Marisela grabs her costume off the floor and gives me a stiff look.

  “Here to work,” she says. “Remember?”

  I clench my fists after Marisela walks away. “I’ll sit this one out.”