It was clear that was a warning. She saw the look the man was handing out.
Christ!
He was more a control freak than she was.
At least, the man was working with her. Small miracles there, and she’d take it.
Callen’s hand trailed across her leg, and Elizabeth could feel her blood pressure rising. That was his signal that he was thinking about things to come.
Now so was she.
“If there’s nothing else,” she offered, draining her wine as Callen did the same with his beers.
“I guess not, if you’re planning to stop in and keep us up to speed.”
“Your detectives will do that.”
He looked disappointed.
She didn’t care.
Elizabeth slid her card across the table. “Use this if it’s an emergency. That means if you’re on fire, the killer has you at knifepoint, or you think you’re going to die—not to chitchat and ask me questions. Am I clear?”
The men nodded.
The looks on their faces said one thing.
They weren’t sure if she was serious or yanking their chain. That amused her.
“Great. We’re going to work and then crash. I suggest you do the same, detective,” she offered, glancing over at Boone Savage. “We’re about to start the marathon.”
“What about me?” Detective Rolland Le Bleu asked.
“Start hitting the streets and look for a sicko hacking people apart,” she said, standing up. “Do your job. Protect and serve.”
“I’ll hang out around ‘The Quarter’. If women are being taken here, that’s the best place to do people watching.”
Yeah, and Elizabeth bet the best place to have a few beers while on the clock.
Whatever.
She had to fight certain battles, and Rolland Le Bleu was the mayor’s issue.
She slid her business card his way. “Here’s my email. Keep me updated.”
With that, she headed away.
God.
She really hoped she wasn’t making a mistake. The last thing she had time for was to babysit some men. That’s why she left FBI West. It became more a chore than a career. When that was getting in the way of doing your job, it wasn’t worth it.
In the lobby, he leaned over to whisper in her ear. Callen got a whiff of her perfume, and it made his body react.
He loved this part of the day.
It was the part where they got naked.
“Want to go up to our room and frolic?” Callen asked, blowing his warm breath across her neck.
He saw the goose bumps race across her flesh.
That was answer enough.
When Callen explicitly described their evening, the heat pooled low in her belly. There was that telltale lust, and it made her want to do wild and crazy things.
This man could make her wet in under four seconds. He had some crazy, mad skills. Toss in a sexy suit, and she was screwed.
Well, she wanted to be.
When they started climbing the stairs, he already had a handful of her ass in the palm of his hand. “I can’t wait to get you naked, Lyzee. We’re going to burn this place to the ground.”
She didn’t doubt that in the least.
Callen was a fire she couldn’t quench.
For the time being, she’d forget about work, Ethan being miles away, and the Chris mess. Now, she’d focus on the one thing that would help her regain her balance.
Callen James Whitefox.
One of the loves of her life.
Chapter Four
When they arrived in their room, Elizabeth wasn’t disappointed. In fact, it was incredible. There was no way in hell that Gabe had footed the bill for this place. There were white billowing curtains, the street music below wafted up, and there was even a bottle of champagne chilling beside some plump, red strawberries.
Not to mention, they were at the top of the building, in what appeared to be the deluxe suite.
Yeah, this wasn’t Gabe’s doing.
He’d rather eat his own eyeballs then run up a tab. This place couldn’t be in their work budget.
“How did we score this room?” she asked, unsure if it was Callen or Ethan’s doing. One of them was thinking seduction, but she wasn’t sure which man.
“It was me. I got us switched, and I paid the difference. If I’m coming to the French Quarter with my woman, I’m not molesting her in a dive.”
That said it all.
Truth be told, Callen wanted to be more suave. He’d taken her in some sweaty romp in a dump. Now he wanted to be out of control in a really elegant room for his woman.
“Callen,” she said, glancing up at him.
“Only the best for the mother of my children,” he said, as he began nibbling on her throat.
Elizabeth’s mind was beginning to melt.
Callen’s mouth was making her forget. For that alone, she’d love him until the day she died. He gave her peace when her mind was a storm.
In their jobs, that wasn’t easy.
It was hard to shut it down on demand. With Callen by her side, it was possible.
He made it possible.
Slowly, Callen found her mouth with his. Taking all the time in the world, he devoured her until the heat rose around them. This was what he wanted.
After a day of work, seeing all those dead victims, and knowing what was coming, Callen needed this.
He needed her.
That would never change.
“I want to seduce you,” he said, after pulling away from the kiss.
“No, Callen.”
She stepped back from him.
There was surprise on his face.
Callen didn’t know what was happening. It wasn’t like Elizabeth to turn him down. His heart began thumping, and not for a good reason. “Lyzee?”
“I don’t want to be seduced by you, Callen.”
“Why not?” he asked, fearing the worst.
Had he overstepped some unknown line?
Was he not supposed to play romantic with her?
Did she not want that from him and only Ethan?
He was worried as a million questions raced through his mind.
“Tonight, Callen, I want to seduce you. I want us. I want the man who makes me do really crazy things. I want that wild Native who makes my heart pound, and my panties wet.”
The fear dissipated at her words.
“Elizabeth,” he said, but he couldn’t get the rest out. She raced at him, practically climbing his body. Before Callen knew what was happening, her hands were in his hair, his suit jacket was being tugged down, and Elizabeth was trying to devour him whole.
There was fire.
There was heat.
There was…only her.
As her mouth tore the lust from his body in wicked gulps, she managed to get one word out.
“Bedroom.”
Who was he to complain?
If she wanted to head right there, he’d make that happen.
Hell!
For her, he’d walk on shards of glass.
Yes, romance was nice, but this wasn’t exactly a horrible way to end his night.
As Callen carried her to the room, she was busily kissing him for all he was worth. They walked into two walls before he managed to get into the boudoir.
When they finally arrived, Elizabeth could smell the scent of candles and it pulled her from the kiss.
Glancing around, the room and the balcony, the scene was set with lots of candles.
“Oh, Callen James,” she whispered.
“I wanted to show you how much I love you.”
She got it.
While the men were both amazing in her life, Callen was the soft mushy one. He was the man more likely to do something like this ‘just because’. Ethan was the king of romance, and Callen was the king of lust.
Sometimes, she forgot that he needed to show her the other side of him every now and again.
Now, she was going to combine th
e two and make his night—oh, and hers too.
“You did this for me?” she asked.
“What wouldn’t I do for the woman who holds my heart in the palm of her hand?”
She got it now.
The suit.
The room.
All of it.
Callen was trying to tell her something. Well, he didn’t have to try to keep her love. It was already his, and it would be until they turned to dust.
He was hers.
“This isn’t you.”
He didn’t speak at first.
“Why not? Can’t a guy romance his girl without having an ulterior motive?”
Her fingers moved across the lines on his face. When the men in her life were worried, they both got the same look.
It was there.
Clear as day.
When his cheek twitched, she knew she was right.
“What are you worried about?”
He paused.
“Callen, you can tell me anything. We’re a couple, and we’ll hold up under anything.”
She was right.
“Us.”
Elizabeth released him. “What specifically?” she asked, putting the brakes on the evening of sex.
“I just feel like I don’t give you enough. I feel like I lack in the romance department. I want you always to know that this is how I feel about you. I just don’t always show it.”
Here was her Callen.
He was wounded so deeply, that the scars would never go away.
“You think I need this to feel your love?”
“No. I mean… I don’t think so.”
And here was the issue.
There was doubt.
“Callen James, I love romance, but it doesn’t have to be this. I don’t need champagne, a fancy room, and strawberries to know what I feel for you. When you give me flowers and a note on the windshield of my ride, it makes my heart quake. When you hold my hand and tell me you love me, it’s felt to my soul. I know every day how much you love me because you stay. That’s the romance for me. You stay.”
He loved her.
He loved her so damn much it hurt.
“You deserve all this.”
“I know, but I don’t want all this. That’s the difference.”
“What do you want, Elizabeth?”
“I want you in jeans and beat up boots. I want us wild and crazy in some roach coach because at the core of it, we’re the glue that holds us together—not this. I don’t want things to show me you love me. I want you. You’re enough, Callen James. You’ve always been enough.”
“Ethan is romantic.”
“Yes, he is. When we came up here, I thought he planned this.”
“See?”
“That’s why this doesn’t fit. I like when you and I sneak out in your truck, make out in the woods, and lose half of our clothes along the way.”
He laughed.
Yeah, he did too.
“I like when you take me for ice cream, let me sit on your lap, and then we get stares from all the boring dates because we’re melting our cones right then and there.”
He took a step closer.
“I like when we’re tearing off clothes, leaving marks, and making no apology for it. That’s the romance I want and need. You’re not Ethan. I don’t want two Ethans in my life. I want you because you give me what he can’t.”
“What’s that?”
“A hot wild storm. I want to be swept away by the heat and lust. I want to feel like I’m drowning in it, and I’ll never come up. You give me that, Callen. Each and every time we come together, you give me that romance. It’s perfect.”
His heart skipped.
“It is perfect.”
“Don’t doubt yourself. I fell in love with you as you are. Don’t change for me.”
“What if I’m changing for me?”
“Then I’m going to love him too. You’re my Callen. You’re my poet. You’re my fire.”
“Oh, angel.”
She took that moment to attack. They were going to redo this the right way. Gone was the romance around them. They were creating their own romance, and it was going to be epic.
As her mouth claimed his, she began ripping away his suit. First, she removed the jacket, then the holster with his gun, and finally, the pricy shirt.
“Sorry, but it has to go,” she muttered, right before she bit his lower lip.
Callen moaned.
Everything fell away—including his clothes. Before he knew it, she was yanking open his pants and tossing his belt onto the bed.
“This is us,” she said, as he stared at his clothes all over the place.
She was right.
How did he forget?
When she shoved his pants down his legs, he thought she was going to take him in her mouth.
Instead, she shoved him.
Hard.
He fell backward onto the bed since his legs were tangled up in his pants.
Once there, she was on him.
Before Callen could think, his hands were above his head, handcuffed to the wrought iron bedframe. As she sat on his hips, with her skirt riding up, there was a wicked smile on her face.
“Are you ready for the storm, my love?”
Her term of endearment always made him react.
“No. I’m never ready. That’s what makes it perfect.”
She kissed him again.
He was right.
When he was out of breath, only then did she set his mouth free. Moving off his body, Elizabeth opened the glass French doors more, so the sounds and life blossoming outside their third floor room could waft into them.
There was music.
There was laughter.
The French Quarter was alive.
“Elizabeth,” Callen said, knowing that they were visible from across the street.
Well, he was.
And he wasn’t in a good position. He was naked, his arms were bound, and he was hard.
Then again, the whole situation turned him on to much higher levels.
“Lassez le bon temps rouler.”
“What’s that mean?” he asked, heating up even more. When Elizabeth would speak in French to him, he’d want to do truly wicked things to her.
This time was no different.
“It means let the good times roll. It’s the battle cry in New Orleans.”
Oh, he had a feeling the good times were definitely going to roll. He could see it coming.
Elizabeth walked to the wall and hit the lights. Dusk was falling, and with the candles, she wanted to give him one hell of a night in New Orleans. Once tomorrow hit, they’d be crazy busy for the rest of the case. This was their chance.
And she was going to make it count.
Callen tracked her through the room. When she began pulling off her shirt, his eyes went to her breasts. How could they not?
They were his favorite asset.
Well, one of them.
“Are you ready, my love?” she asked, stripping out of her gun, badge, and skirt.
She was peeling off one identity to give him another.
“I can handle anything you throw at me,” he said, grinning wickedly.
“Then Miss Kitty shall show you around Nawlins.”
At the mention of his favorite alter ego, Callen’s heart began kicking in his chest. Elizabeth didn’t break out this sexy fun often. In fact, she rarely broke it out for only one of them. It was more a double guy kind of fantasy.
This was going to be mind blowing.
As she crawled up his body, Elizabeth began leaving kisses across his tan flesh.
Then she left bites.
Then she added nails.
Callen began squirming beneath her, simply because she was touching everywhere but the one place he wanted her mouth.
Shit!
He was hard.
“Angel,” he muttered, as she blew her warm breath across his erection. “Touch me.”
She gla
nced up his body, her hair a riotous halo around her head. Callen wanted to bury his hands in that silkiness. When it ran across his body, he wanted to write her sonnets.
“Please,” he begged.
Elizabeth hopped off his body.
“Wait!”
When she picked up his tie, he already knew he was screwed. She was either blindfolding him, or gagging him. If the latter was the case, it was going to be wild.
“Ready, Director?” she asked.
He swallowed.
“What did you think was going to happen when you brought Miss Kitty home? Did you think we were going to eat mud bugs and watch the news?”
He didn’t know what the hell a mud bug was, but if he could have Elizabeth, he’d eat both bugs and mud.
Callen was that damn turned on.
She slipped into her alter ego so easily, that Callen had to believe that she’d been planning this. Well, that or she deserved an Academy Award.
“Sex?” he answered.
She slithered back up his body. “Oh, Director, you’re so very wrong. This is where we fuck.”
His heart skipped.
Then she blindfolded him.
“Oh, Jesus, I may cum right now,” he muttered, as her hands worked on his body. She was touching him everywhere, and he didn’t think he could hold on for long.
This was hot.
The fact the balcony was open, allowing anyone across the street to watch them, was wicked, naughty, and something he’d get off on, and she knew it.
She bit him on a nipple and rubbed her panty-clad ass against his erection.
“Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?” she whispered in his ear, waiting for him to reply.
“Yessss!” Callen hissed as his body bowed, begging for more. He’d have to be dead before he’d ever not want to sleep with her. He wanted so much more.
Elizabeth kissed him for all she was worth. Tongues did battle, teeth scraped, nipped, and drove him straight into the heat. When she was finished getting him ready, she slid down his body to Callen’s erection.
Then she attacked, working him so hard he whimpered in need.
“Let me see you,” he begged.
She wouldn’t.
If she did, he’d come way too fast. Elizabeth wanted Callen to feel.
When he popped out of her mouth, she finally spoke, “This is us, Callen. This storm is what I feel every time you touch me. When I think of you, I think of this unquenchable lust that threatens to burn me alive.”
Blood Shall Run (An FBI Romance Thriller Book 15) Page 12
