I nodded, recalling the difficulties of getting her upstairs the night before. The smell continued to linger in my nostrils despite the good scrubbing I’d given myself in the shower this morning.
“Thank you, Summer.”
I took the service elevator upstairs and knocked on the door to 1004. Shaw opened it dressed in nothing but a thin robe, her hair wet from the shower. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw that it was me, surprise mixed with pleasure, the honest reaction enough to dissolve whatever sense of decorum I’d erected between us.
I took a step toward her and slid my hand into her wet hair, drawing her close to me. She rested her hands on my abdomen, not pushing me away, but not pulling me in, either. I shoved her back into the room, slamming the door behind us with the heel of my shoe before I tugged her closer, slipping my tongue slowly over her lips, tasting her with a joy that was indescribable, before drawing that heavy bottom lip between my teeth. She made a soft, little mewling sound, her hands slipping around my waist. And then we were kissing, a kiss that was impossible to misinterpret.
I don’t know why I came up here—other than to make sure she’d gotten Alison into bed properly. Wasn’t it my responsibility as an assistant manager of this hotel to make sure all the guests were secure? But I knew that I needed to see her, needed to touch her. I stood in that bar with my friend and entertained the idea of those beautiful women, but all I could think about was this woman here, this woman I barely knew but whom I couldn’t stop thinking about.
She smelled like poppies and lavender and half a dozen beautiful flowers that brought to mind spring mornings in the mountains when I was a kid. She tasted like mint and coffee, felt like silk in my hands. I brushed my thumb over her cheek and slid my hand down over her throat. I could feel her pulse pounding against her flesh, could feel her excitement as it slowly built up in speed.
Her robe was barely secured to her curves with a thin belt. It didn’t take much effort to cause that belt to fall apart, to cause her robe to open at the edges. She was naked underneath and that knowledge, the feel of her bare skin beneath my palm, was enough to drive me over the edge. I grabbed the back of her thighs and lifted her, pulling her up the length of my body until her legs wrapped themselves around my waist. My mouth found its way to her breasts, my teeth nibbling gently at her hardened nipples until she was moaning, a sound that only drove me further across that line between sanity and passion.
Her hands were in my hair, on the back of my neck, drawing me to the places that excited her the most. I pressed her against the wall, offering myself a little leverage as my mouth continued its path over her breasts and down along her ribs. The muscles of her belly were quivering, her thighs wrapped so tight around my waist that she might have crushed me if I were a lesser man. And the sounds coming from her lips…I had to swallow them, had to steal from her the sweetness of her breath, the moans of her pleasure.
“The bathroom,” she murmured against my ear.
I caught the look in her eyes, the fire of need burning there. I didn’t ask, didn’t care. I was so close to losing all ability to think at all. I carried her in there, to the counter I’d cleaned just hours ago, resting her beautiful ass on the edge as I immediately dropped to my knees and buried my mouth against her inner thigh. She ran her fingers through my hair, more moans escaping those gorgeous lips.
Too many of my lovers were content to lie still, to only make noise when they thought it was something I wanted. Too many women had the impression that responding to a man’s touch was only something a woman with a low reputation would do. I don’t know about most men, but I want a lover who’s not afraid to tell me where and how to touch them, who’s not afraid of her own desire.
Shaw was clearly unafraid. She tugged at my hair, drew me close to that lovely set of lips that was normally hidden between her long, powerful legs. I nibbled at one of those lips and she cried out, again her hands pulling me closer to her. But I resisted this time, happy that she knew what she wanted, but needing to drive her as crazy as she was driving me.
I teased her with my tongue, my teeth, and lips, listened to her frustration as it grew and grew, the ache in my balls growing harder and harder to ignore. When I took her clit into my mouth, her scream was enough to vibrate the mirror behind her. I groaned, myself, blowing hot breath out against her wet folds. She reached down and touched herself as I slipped my tongue over that moisture, licking it away. The sight of her finger offering herself a touch of pleasure was almost more than I could bear. But bear it I did, rolling back on my heels to watch for a moment.
“Don’t be a tease.” She smiled softly, but there was desperation in her eyes. “Finish what you started.”
“And what was that?”
She leaned over, digging briefly in a toiletry bag set off to one side of the sink, her eyes never leaving mine. When she withdrew her fingers, there was a condom package between them. She held it out like that said all that needed saying.
It did. But I couldn’t help but continue to tease her.
“What would you like me to do with that?” I asked, standing to move between her legs, my body still respectably covered in the suit I’d been wearing all day. She pushed the condom into the pocket of my shirt before tugging at my thin leather belt, pulling harder than necessary to force the bulge below it against her swollen cunt.
“I think you know what to do with it.”
“And if that wasn’t my intention?”
“We both know it was.”
“But what if it wasn’t?” I grabbed her wrists and twisted her arms behind her back, forcing her against the cool of the mirror. “What if this was all I wanted?” I bent low, bit at the soft flesh above her dark, puckered areola.
She cried out, but it wasn’t really a cry of pain. There was so much pleasure mixed in with it that it dripped over us both, wrapping itself around my balls, tightening until I was ready to cry out.
“You want me,” she moaned. “You’ve wanted me from the moment you set eyes on me.”
“Hmmm…”
I bit down again, this time on the thin flesh over her ribs. She didn’t cry out this time, but I could feel the tension blow through her every muscle.
“You think highly of yourself, don’t you?”
“I know when a man wants me.”
I nodded, stepping back a little. Her eyes were filled with triumph as she watched me unbuckle my belt and rip the length of the belt out of my slacks. But they widened with surprise—and excitement—when I jerked her off the counter and turned her around, slipping the belt around her wrists. I pulled it tight, locking her hands together behind her back so that she couldn’t touch me, so that she could no longer interfere with my touch. Then I buried my fingers in the long tresses of her hair, tugging her head back painfully against my shoulder.
“You know what you need, Ms. Easton?”
She shook her head. “What is it, Mr. Bailey?”
“You need a man to put you in your place.”
I ripped the bathrobe off her shoulders, allowing it to tangle around her wrists, adding to the restraint of the belt. When I turned her and leaned her back against the counter, she was completely naked, completely on display for no one but me. She was beautiful, a specimen of perfection. There were so many things I could have done to her in that moment, so many ways I could have hurt her or pleasured her. She should have been frightened—and she was, a little—but there was also a burning need in her eyes.
“What now?” she asked softly.
“Now you’re all mine.”
“And what are you going to do with me?”
I slid a hand slowly from her throat to her breast, down so slowly that her mouth opened with a silent scream. When I slipped my fingers between her legs, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, the softest sound coming from between her lips. She bent her knees a little, giving me a little more space, the space I needed to touch her where she was desperate to be touched. She was still guiding me
despite the restraints. I didn’t mind. I just wanted to watch the pleasure dance on her expressive face.
“You’re used to always being in control, aren’t you, beautiful?”
She peeked at me from one eye. “I always am.”
“Not tonight.”
She started to smile, but then my fingertip brushed against her aching clit and it turned into a grimace of pleasure.
“It’s okay to let go,” I whispered. “In fact, it can sometimes be the most pleasure you’ve ever felt.”
I moved close, kissed her neck and shoulder as my fingers continued to dance between her legs. Her breathing grew heavy, her shoulders tense. I kissed her jaw, nibbled at her ear, whispering to her, telling her how much better it would be if she just rode the wave, just went along with the pleasure she was fighting so hard. I knew the moment she finally reached her peak, could feel the hitch of her chest as she gasped. She arched her chest out and moved her hips, a long, low cry slipping from her lips as her thighs clenched against my wrist.
I smiled, my mouth pressed against her jaw. I waited, watching, loving the dance of pleasure on her face, in her expressive eyes. I found myself wondering if any man had ever bothered to take her down this path, if she’d ever let anyone walk with her down this road.
I doubted it.
“Wasn’t that worth it, my love?”
She shuddered, her body going limp against mine. I picked her up and carried her into the bedroom, releasing her wrists before I lay her down. She curled up on her side, watching as I removed my clothing, the evidence of my arousal obvious as I crawled onto the mattress beside her. Her hands reached for me immediately, her fingers wrapping themselves around my length.
“Your turn,” she said softly.
Her stroke was slow and even. It was almost more than I could stand. I ripped open the condom package with unsteady fingers that smelled of her. She took it from me, applied it even as we rolled toward each other, her legs falling apart as she welcomed me on top of her. She was ready, her eyes snapping with need as her hands slid over my ass, drawing me closer. When I pressed inside of her, she arched her back, her eyes closing again as she welcomed me to her.
I moaned, unable to hold in my pleasure. She was so expressive, so fucking beautiful! I couldn’t have controlled myself if I’d wanted to and I really didn’t want to. I pulled her thigh up over my hip, filled her as deeply as I could manage. We found a rhythm together, her hips moving in time with mine. And when she opened her eyes and our gazes met, it transcended the moment, taking the entire act up a notch. I couldn’t explain it, but I knew there would be more than this one moment, this one night.
And then I fell over the edge and waves of pleasure washed over me, dragging sounds from my lips I’d never knew I was capable of. She was there with me, pleasure dancing on her face once again.
It was intense, nearly as beautiful as she was. And just the beginning of a long, amazing night.
Chapter 9
Joss
Special Agent with the FBI, Mike Spencer, was sitting in a dark sedan outside my offices when I arrived. He climbed out of the car as I walked past, my keys in my hand as I prepared to unlock the main doors. He grabbed my elbow and pulled me back, directing me to his car.
“What’s going on, Mike?” I asked as he pulled the car out of the parking lot and onto the street.
“We need to talk and I’d rather not do it inside your office.”
“Why not? What’s wrong with my office?”
“Probably nothing, but you can never be sure.”
That was very ominous. But then he looked over at me with a crooked grin. “And you don’t have Monico’s donuts.”
I smiled. “That’s very true.”
We found a booth at the small donut shop that was away from the street traffic coming and going at the front counter, each with a cruller and a cup of coffee in front of us. Mike picked at his pastry for a moment, his head tilted down so that I couldn’t see his expression.
“What’s going on?”
When he finally looked at me, he tilted his head to the side. “I understand you’re working for Alison Michaels?”
I shrugged. “She asked for protection. I have an operative serving as a bodyguard.”
“Are you aware that she’s been making phone calls to Case? That he knows exactly where she is?”
I frowned, alarmed at this news. “I hadn’t heard that.”
He nodded, picking up a larger piece of his cruller and popping it into his mouth. “We’ve got a bug on his phone. Heard everything coming in and going out. He doesn’t seem too terribly interested in getting back with her.”
“Is that right?”
He lifted an eyebrow as he studied my face. “Probably a waste of man hours. Sorry, Joss.”
It wasn’t the man hours I was interested in. The case had been a good vehicle to begin Shaw Knolls with. She was a little too enthusiastic for my taste, a little too gung ho. I wanted her to realize how uneventful the majority of our cases really were. And, from the reports she’d been making, she was figuring that out.
What worried me was the idea that Alison Michaels might be considering returning to that abusive husband of hers. After everything she’d told us about him, I wasn’t sure the woman would survive any more time in his company. He was violent and prone to almost psychotic changes in mood and behavior. If she caught him on the wrong day, she’d get more than the few black eyes and broken bones she’d suffered in the past.
I pushed my pastry away and sat back, holding my coffee cup between both hands. Mike was watching me, his expression concerned. I caught his gaze and sighed.
“It’s sad. I just wish I could do something to protect this woman from herself.”
“What can you do?” He sat back, too, sipping his own coffee. “There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.”
He tried to make it sound casual, but I could see by the look in his eye that this was something he felt was much more serious. He hesitated even though he had my full attention.
“What is it?”
He took another sip of his coffee before setting it down and digging his thumbnail into the edge of his cruller. Finally, he sighed, his eyes moving back up to mine.
“We’ve continued to talk to Conway’s associates, cell mates, jail officials…anyone who might have more information on what happened. And we’ve been able to come to a few conclusions based on what we’ve learned.”
“What kind of conclusions?”
He played with his coffee cup again for a few moments. He clearly didn’t want to tell me whatever it was, but I was determined to hear it.
“Tell me, Mike.”
He studied my face for a long moment. “We have reason to believe that this wasn’t the first attempt on your husband’s life. And we’re certain it won’t be the last.”
“Mahoney’s that desperate to not allow him to testify?”
“Apparently.”
I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, my thoughts racing as I tried to remember everything Carrington had told me about the brief time he was forced to work as the mob boss’s henchman.
“He must think Carrington knows more than he does.”
“He’s clearly convinced Carrington is the final nail in his coffin.” Mike set down his coffee cup. “Do you know why?”
“I would have thought the evidence against him was strong with or without Carrington’s testimony. Various agencies had been building cases against him for years and many of his associates have already made statements against him. What could Carrington know that would rival all that?”
Mike shrugged. “I don’t know. But we do know that Mahoney has gone after several of those other witnesses, successfully a few times, but that there is still overwhelming evidence against him. He seemed to have given up until now—until this.”
“I’ll talk to him. Maybe I can find out what’s going on.”
“Have you told him how close Conway came to him
that night?”
I shook my head, an explanation on my lips. But I could see in Mike’s expression that I didn’t have to explain. He understood. He’d been a part of this world a lot longer than I had. He knew the toll it could take on a family. He understood my need to protect mine.
But he couldn’t know the cost of coming clean with Carrington was going to be. He was already angry with me for getting myself involved in a case that had a relationship to Mahoney and his organization. When he learned that Mahoney had tried to take him out and I hadn’t warned him, he’d hit the roof. And our marriage was already strained.
I was beginning to wonder if we were going to survive any of this.
Mike reached across the table and touched my hand, taking it kindly between both of his.
“If you want me to go talk to him…he doesn’t have to know you were involved.”
“No,” I said, though the idea was appealing. “I should do it myself.”
“Okay.”
He patted my hand before letting it go. He sat back, his eyes thoughtful as they moved over my face. There was affection in that gaze despite the fact our relationship was strictly professional. It was kind of nice, a man looking at me with something other than contempt in his eyes. It reminded me that I wasn’t the Grinch my teenaged daughter thought I was or the emotional bitch my husband seemed to think I was these days.
I glanced at my phone and sighed. “I should get to the office. We have four new clients coming in this morning.”
“Of course.”
Mike immediately stood, reaching a hand out to me to help me out of my chair. He didn’t let go right away, holding on to my fingers for a lingering moment. I was the one to pull away, the one to stride out of the donut shop, the one to put an end to any suggestion that I was open to what he may be laying down.
He was laying it down, right?
I wasn’t sure. It’d been a long time since I’d dated, or even talked to a man in a non-professional situation. Carrington and I never really went on a proper date, never had a courtship or whatever it was called anymore. We had an affair while I was working for him, protecting his daughter from threats, and I got pregnant. I’m not even sure our relationship would have progressed the way it did if I’d been more careful with my fertility.
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