An Irresistible Man

by Kylie Brant

  Cruz stood still, allowing himself precious moments to absorb the gut-wrenching pleasure of seeing her lying in his bed. The frothy piece of lace she still wore matched the bra she’d just discarded, and he wondered at the contrast she made. She hid her penchant for silky bits of lingerie beneath primly tailored suits and jackets, just as she hid her real self behind a mask of cool professionalism. He’d wanted to strip that outer layer away, to find out if the woman beneath could possibly match the one he’d imagined, and now he’d found that she did that, and more.

  With his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs, he disposed of them as casually as he had the jeans and Madeline felt her breath quite literally stop. His nakedness was almost overwhelming, the strength of his sexuality no longer hidden. His nudity was tempting, though. Her hands itched to race over that hard body even as she quaked a little in the face of its strength.

  Cruz thought he read nervousness creeping into her eyes, and he joined her on the bed. “Ah, Maddy,” he whispered in her ear as his arms reached for her. “You don’t know how many times I’ve pictured you here. Just like this.”

  “You have?” she murmured, a pleased little smile teasing her lips.

  “Many times,” he affirmed, his hands skating along her spine. She turned to face him and his soothing touch became more sure. His hands went over her with a shattering purpose, no longer seeking to calm her uncertainty, but to intensify her arousal. “I’ve dreamed of you lying next to me like this. Of spreading your legs, like this.” One hard knee parted hers and pressed gently against her femininity. She gasped helplessly. His voice dropped even lower, until it was almost a rumble. “But nothing I could imagine prepared me for the pleasure of seeing you like this. Touching you like this.”

  One hand imitated his words by dropping to her panties and pushing them carelessly down her legs. It came back up to cup the fleecy red delta between her thighs. She quivered in response, but he sealed her mouth with his, kissing her with lazy purpose. When he did nothing more for a time, she relaxed enough to open her mouth to him, relishing his taste when his tongue swept in. Her hands clasped his wide shoulders but refused to linger there. They engaged in an exploration of their own, smoothing over the bronzed skin, touching his nipples, making him shudder.

  She learned his body. She found that he loved having his chest stroked, that his nipples were as sensitive as her own. When her hands wandered downward she skirted his heavy arousal shyly, but he pushed forward urgently, and she understood the demand. Her fingers closed around him and his breath hissed out between clenched teeth. He was a total sensualist, completely without modesty or shyness. He allowed her none, either. If she’d been able to think, she would have been shocked at the way their bodies moved together on the bed, flickering in the fading sunlight. She would have been surprised at the way she was acting, at her need to touch him, all of him. Nothing in her adult life had prepared her for a man who demanded that she hold nothing back, who seemed to want only that she let her inhibitions loose and give rise to a sensual side of her nature that she’d kept firmly tucked away.

  Nothing could be hidden from him; he didn’t allow pretense. His hands were teasing, insistent and arousing by turn. His mouth delighted in tasting her, pressing kisses to velvet skin, nipping sharply, then soothing the area with his tongue. He lay half over her once, smoothing his hand over her soft skin, and watched the movement with savage pleasure, enjoying the sight of his darker skin against hers, so much lighter. She was the color of rich cream all over, and devoid of the delicate sprinkling of freckles that patterned most redheads.

  His touch became more urgent, his mouth increasingly demanding. Her own exploration was thwarted by her reaction to him. His lips went to her neck and below. He cupped both breasts in his hands, teasing the nipples with his thumbs before lowering his head to suckle first one, then the other. Her hands clenched on his back, her hips rolling sinuously. Then one of his hands snaked down to claim her femininity, parting the dewy folds and teasing the slick bud he found there.

  Her thighs relaxed unconsciously, allowing him access, an opportunity he immediately took advantage of. He penetrated her with one long finger, and her hips bucked. A gasp broke from her throat as he kept up the sensual assault, driving her mad with his mouth on her nipples, his devilish fingers trailing magic in their wake.

  “Cruz,” she murmured brokenly, her hands moving restlessly over his shoulders and then to his hair. Her fingers threaded through the dark, thick strands, ungentle in her restless quest for satisfaction. “Please.”

  He closed his eyes tightly at her breathless voice. He didn’t want this to end. He wanted to race his hands over her, to slowly savor her. He wanted to taste her everywhere, slowly, lingeringly. He wanted to take her with a sudden burst of lust that would put an end to their torment. But she was nearing the fever pitch of arousal; he could feel it in her writhing movements beneath him, in the moist tight silkiness he was exploring. His own body was taking the choice from him. He could feel himself grow tight and heavy, signaling how close he was to exploding.

  He rolled away for a second to reach for the nightstand. He resented bitterly the need for anything to come between them, even as he protected her. Moving above her, he parted her legs for his large body, and the tip of his staff nudged her softness. Her legs came up eagerly, encircling his waist, and he pushed fully into her tight sheath with along, sure movement that drove the breath from both of them.

  Pausing above her, he strove to garner his flagging control. Her eyes opened dazedly, and the sight of him over her, eyes tightly shut, teeth clenched, made her breath sob in her throat. The skin was drawn tautly over his cheekbones, and a light sheen of perspiration shone on his brow. She wasn’t able to give him the time he needed to regroup. She flexed, drawing him deeper inside her, and still it wasn’t enough. He was so hot, so hard, and he filled her completely… She gasped a little as he rolled his hips.

  “That’s right,” he growled gutturally as her body struggled to accept all of him, “let yourself relax. Take more. More! Yes, like that. Just like that.” She accepted all of him, his hot, turgid length stretching her. His hands went to her bottom, lifting her for his thrusts. He began slowly at first, but quickly lost control and drove into her wildly. Breathless whimpers broke from her lips as she met each of his frantic movements, and demanded more.

  “Maddy,” he gritted, surging into her. “Mine. Maddy…” He rode her hard until she screamed softly, her cry muffled by his hard shoulder. Her inner spasms clenched him, milking his own response. With a wild roll of his hips the pleasure slammed into him. It went on and on, and he jerked convulsively as he spun out of control.

  Chapter 12

  It was well before daybreak when Madeline woke, dazed by the unfamiliar surroundings. A furnacelike heat radiated against her back, and heavy weights kept her pinned to the bed. She blinked a few times, identifying the warmth caused by Cruz’s body pressed against hers. One thigh was wedged between her own, and his arm draped over her waist. She sighed a little, settling back against him once more. She’d fallen asleep after they’d made love, but he’d woken her often during the night, his body inviting hers to taste satisfaction again.

  She lay in his embrace quietly for a time, listening to the even breathing of the man next to her. One part of her wished that she could return to similar unconsciousness. But she knew that luxury would be denied her. Her mind was wide-awakenow, her thoughts uncomfortably demanding. She stretched, easing out from under Cruz cautiously. She searched for her sweater and pulled it on before padding down the staircase to the kitchen. The curtainless windows allowed all the light from the star-studded sky to spill into the apartment, and she had no difficulty finding her way. Pulling open a cupboard, she took out a glass, went to the refrigerator and poured herself some milk.

  Sitting at the counter, she sipped slowly, staring pensively into space. Last night had been completely outside her experience. She’d never let herself respond like that,
had never been forced to respond like that before. Cruz had drawn out every emotion, every reaction, and had savored it, reciprocating in full. He’d reached for her over and over, as if he couldn’t get enough of her. Amazingly, her response had been just as uninhibited each time.

  But now, desire satisfied, self-doubts returned full force to nag at her with insistent clamoring. She’d just complicated her investigation. Separating emotion from cool professional reason could only be more difficult after the hours she’d just spent with him. She should never have allowed last night to happen. She couldn’t afford to trust him, not while she was still looking for signs of his possible involvement with the gun supply. Having slept with him, now she wouldn’t be able to trust herself.

  Would she be able to look at every aspect of the case as objectively as she needed to? Or would she constantly doubt herself, searching through every decision she made for flaws in judgment? Her lips flattened. Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. And she would force it to work to her benefit. In order to prove his innocence or guilt, she was going to have to maintain strict control over each conclusion she drew, every shred of evidence she found. And she was going to have to do it with a much greater detachment than she had displayed here tonight.

  She’d worked too hard to get where she was today, professionally as well as personally. Perhaps there had been a pattern to her life, but it was a pattern of her choosing. Cruz Martinez wasn’t going to change that-she wouldn’t allow him to. Tonight hadn’t altered anything, she assured herself. She was still investigating him; she would still have to seek out every pertinent piece of information on him, analyze it, and report on it. If the time came that she was responsible for Cruz’s arrest, well, she’d handle that, too.

  But there was no denying that the hours she’d just spent with him would make that moment more painful for her.

  The phone rang on the counter near her, and she started in shock. It was cut off after one ring, and she looked cautiously in the direction of the stairs. She couldn’t remember if there was another phone in Cruz’s room, and hoped this wouldn’t wake him. The answering machine switched on, and his voice invited callers to leave a message. She listened to the caller’s breathing. When he spoke, she recognized Tommy’s voice instantly.

  “Martinez? Hey, Martinez, I really need to talk to you. I’m in big trouble, man. This place you told me about, I’m not safe here. Valdez is on my trail. You got to get me out of here. Call Valdez off, you know you can.” Here his voice broke, and real fear laced it when he spoke again. “You put me in danger, man. Now you get me out of it.”

  The connection was broken but the message replayed over and over in Madeline’s numb mind.

  This place you told me about… Call Valdez off… you know you can…

  She felt frozen, the breath trapped in her chest. She finally released it in a great shuddering gasp. She couldn’t stop Tommy’s words from hammering inside her head. They joined all the other questions and doubts there, punctuated them with insidious clarity.

  This place you told me about… Just days ago Cruz had led her to believe that he didn’t know where Tommy was hiding out. He’d made her believe that she was putting Tommy’s life in danger by her insistence on checking back with him. She was suddenly very sure that Cruz had Tommy hidden in a place she was guaranteed to never find or talk to him again. But was it for Tommy’s safety or his own?

  Had Cruz deliberately put the man’s life in danger? Tommy had been frightened, certain that Valdez was after him. Abruptly she remembered the snitch Brewer had told her about, the one who’d wound up with bullet holes in him after relating that a cop was involved in the gun supply. Her stomach lurched alarmingly. The possibilities were too gruesome to contemplate.

  She shook herself mentally, forcing her thoughts into order. Tommy might truly believe Cruz was responsible for his danger, or his danger might be the result of an alcohol-induced delusion. But she had no way of knowing which was true. All she had was her own determination to answer these questions once and for all. And to deal with whatever answers she found.

  Madeline stood so suddenly that her stool teetered wildly behind her. Without thinking, she reached in back of her to steady it with one hand. Like an automaton she took her glass to the sink and rinsed it out. The first thing to do was to get out of here without having to face Cruz. She desperately needed the next few hours to prepare herself for that particular ordeal. Creeping upstairs, she swept up the rest of her clothes, not allowing her eyes to move to the bed. Back downstairs she dressed hurriedly and called for a cab.

  Waiting for the car to arrive, she was treated with a sample of what was in store for her for the duration of the investigation. Mental images of their bodies entwined, the seductive contrast of their skin, the heat that had flared instantly to life between them flitted across her memory. She pushed them determinedly, inexorably away. Perhaps those memories would be her most dangerous enemy now. They could work on her resolve, infiltrate her detached resistance if she was weak enough to let them.

  But no. Weakness had never been allowed in Madeline Casey’s life. This time her eyes were wide open, and whichever way the evidence eventually pointed, she would be the one pushing forward with the investigation, seeing it to its conclusion. Neither memories nor emotion would be allowed to interfere with that.

  She stared bleakly into space. She didn’t doubt that it would be the most difficult task she’d ever undertaken.

  An hour later Madeline came out of her apartment bedroom in time to hear her cell ring. Snatching it up, she looked at the call screen with trepidation. When she saw it was her father, she allowed it to go to voice mail. Obviously Francis Vincent had gotten word to him about seeing her with Cruz at the restaurant. Geoffrey Casey had lost no time calling his daughter to express his disapproval.

  As her hand was on the doorknob the cell rang again. She closed her eyes briefly. Despite the surface calm she’d managed, each time she heard it she almost jumped out of her skin. But this time when she looked at the screen she saw a number she didn’t recognize. Because it wasn’t Cruz’s, she answered it.

  “Detective Casey?” Her eyes widened as she recognized the voice and pulled the door shut behind her. “Is that you? I need to talk to you, Detective Casey. Real bad.”

  “Ricky? Yes, it’s me.”

  The words started to tumble out of the boy. “I really gotta talk to you, Detective. It’s about Ramsey. I think he’s in a lotta trouble.”

  “Okay, Ricky, you did right to call.” Her voice was soothing. “Let’s get together and talk this out. Where can we meet?”

  “I don’t know.” The boy’s voice dropped. “Ramsey can’t know I talked to you, and I can’t leave Rhonda alone.”

  An idea struck her. “How about the library you always take her to? You could take her this morning just as you have in the past. I’ll meet you there.”

  “And that other detective, too.”

  Her voice was grim. “And that other detective, too,” she agreed. After getting the location of the library, she promised to meet him in an hour and a half, and disconnected. Funny, until Ricky had mentioned Cruz, Madeline had considered going without him. But she would never get away with that. After all their arguments about it, it would seem too out of character for her, especially after last night. At all costs, she had to do everything in her power to appear as if things were normal. She raised her chin and went out the door. Ready or not, she was about to embark on the most difficult pretense of her life.

  Cruz jumped up as soon as he saw Madeline approaching his desk. He watched her carefully, trying to determine her mood. He’d been dismayed to find her gone this morning, with nothing but a short note explaining that she’d gone home to shower and change. He hadn’t liked the idea that she had left him sleeping and gone out alone. He didn’t like the idea of her out on the streets in the early hours without him, period. But now might not be the time to reveal his displeasure.

  With narrowed
eyes he took in her pale, drawn face. She was wearing gray this morning, another outfit of tailored pants and jacket, this time over a light peach blouse. Her hair was pulled back in that no-nonsense fashion she favored at work, and he gave an inward sigh. For some reason he thought this was more than just a return to her work persona. The way she was skirting his eyes as she approached him gave evidence of that.

  “Good morning,” he said neutrally, still studying her carefully.

  She managed what she hoped was a normal tone. “We’ve got a job right away this morning.” She told him of the call she’d received from Ricky. As she’d hoped, it took his attention off her for a moment.

  He checked his watch. “How much time do we have?”

  “About forty-five minutes.”

  He walked out from behind the desk and toward her. She turned to precede him to the door. When his hand fell on her shoulder, she shrugged it away before she could prevent a reaction.

  Cruz strode ahead of her and stopped in her path. Surveying her with narrowed eyes, he muttered, “We need to talk.”

  Madeline was aware of interested glances cast their way and nodded, avoiding his gaze. “In the car.”

  With a muttered curse he led the way through the building and to the car. He slid in behind the wheel and she situated herself in the passenger seat. Reaching beneath the seat, she extracted the city map and after studying it, proceeded to give him directions to the library where they were to meet Ricky.