Her words died as he slid down her body and his tongue started suckling and tasting and devouring her. Because if his Susan wanted him to do the thing with his tongue, then she got what she wanted.
And she tasted so sweet, he wanted it as well.
He was doing the right thing. Sex only.
She would thank him eventually. Because as soon as the bitch Rachel found out about him, and she would, he had no doubt Susan’s chances for the position would lessen significantly.
Now that she was in his arms again, he refused to leave. Sex with Susan was everything…and more.
♡
Susan set her phone on the nightstand and rolled back toward the sexy man sleeping next to her. Surprise, with a little disappointment she had to leave, warred within her. He didn’t leave this time. But now she had to.
“Who was that?”
Snuggling closer, she let him wrap an arm around her waist and pull her even closer. “I have to go to work. A crime scene.”
His mouth found her neck, little tender kisses followed. “Or you can stay right here.”
Inhaling his warm, musky scent with a hint of spiciness, perhaps his cologne that still lingered, made her wish she could stay. But when work called, she went.
And she never delayed either.
Stitch’s hand slid past her rib cage and down her hip and across her thigh. She almost cried out in pain because she had no choice but to leave.
“I need to get up.”
His hand wove closer to the spot she craved for him to touch, at the same time, she knew he couldn’t. She stalled his movement a few inches away.
“Don’t ever deny this man what he wants.”
Chuckling, she kissed his chest and then tried to extract herself from his embrace. “You need to let me go, Stitch.”
“And if I don’t…”
Considering she didn’t turn on the light yet, she couldn’t see the cocky smirk on his face that matched his words, but she knew it was there.
“Then I won’t visit you later.”
He growled low, then slowly loosened his hold, but not before smacking her ass hard. “Come to the shop. I have to work later today.”
A little demanding, more so than she was used to when it came to men, but she honestly didn’t want to argue with him. She wanted to see him again. She’d been dying to see his tattoo shop, but always afraid to go see him, wondering how he’d react. Now was her chance. She didn’t know if her semi-threat of not visiting him would even work. He said he wanted sex only, no relationship.
She didn’t know what she thought about that, but for now, she’d take what she could get. She wasn’t ready to cut him out of her life. Who was she kidding? The sex was amazing. She wasn’t ready to cut that out of her life.
She crawled out of bed before he tightened his hold once again, or worse, she tightened hers. Leaving to go to a crime scene was the last thing she wanted to do. But she had a job to do. This crime scene happened to be related to one of her other cases. The Moretta case. The same case where she lost the folder for over three hours.
Of course, lost was the wrong word. Stolen fit better.
Because she searched her office from top to bottom, coming up empty everywhere she looked. She left her office for twenty minutes tops, returning to find the folder miraculously in the basket on her desk in the corner. Which meant someone came into her office and put it back.
The question she couldn’t figure out was who did it? Why take it and return it?
When she flipped through the contents, she found nothing missing or out of place. She debated for about ten minutes with herself whether to notify her supervisor, Scott, finally caving to the fact it was her professional duty to report what happened.
Scott was surprised, yet unconcerned about the whole matter. He dismissed her misgivings with a wave of his hand and said a coworker must’ve borrowed it and then returned it when they were finished.
She disagreed, not vocally, that it wasn’t that simple. Someone stole her file for a reason. Nobody messed with her things. If a coworker needed something, they asked. Nobody had ever walked into her office and taken anything. She would find the culprit and make sure the appropriate actions were taken.
Dressing quickly, with also a quick brush of her teeth, she leaned over to where Stitch lay sprawled across her bed before leaving. Talk about a bed hog. Oh, how she wished to jump back in bed and push him over to his side, then slide her hands around his glorious body until they were both sated with pleasure once again.
She had to leave now. Before temptation took control.
“I’m leaving. Feel free to sleep and flip the bottom lock before you leave.”
He slapped her ass in response and in a low growl said, “Be quick and maybe I’ll still be here when you get back.”
She sincerely hoped so, but she didn’t think it would happen. When it came to a crime scene, she was meticulous. She took her time to search, catalog, and bag all the evidence she could find. It wasn’t easy or a quick thing. Of course, she didn’t explain any of that. Instead, she kissed his cheek, brushed a hand through his hair, and left.
As soon as she walked into the house of the thirty-something woman that was murdered, she could feel death swirling within the walls, within each step she took. Death cloaked everything within its space with gloominess and despair. At times, she could almost feel the screams of the victims calling for justice.
That’s why she did what she did.
Justice for the victims. A voice for them.
She was impartial. She didn’t make assumptions about any aspect of the case. Her job was to collect the evidence to assist the detectives in their job. She felt empowered and invigorated to be a part of such a process. But she still wanted justice, any sort of justice, for each victim.
Stepping into the bedroom, she said hello to Detective Sauer and Newman, then glanced at the woman lying on the floor, handprints clearly marring her delicate, pale skin around her neck. Just like the first victim, Tonya.
Like Tonya, she had a bad feeling this woman had also been raped before she was killed. These cases always hit her the hardest, imagining the torture and pain the victim suffered before succumbing to a cruel death. Dr. Everly confirmed before she left the office yesterday that Tonya, indeed, had been raped.
“Did you get to those prints yet, Susan?”
Bending closer to the victim, she didn’t even glance at Newman, especially with the way he addressed the question. So condescendingly.
Guess he was still in a mood. Not surprising, since he normally had an attitude with her lately. Maybe she imagined him asking her out for a drink, because his behavior didn’t display a man who wanted to share an evening out with her.
“Not yet.”
“Busy getting Zeke and Ben’s shit done first, huh?”
Standing abruptly, she jerked a sharp gaze at him. “Excuse me?”
He shrugged, as if he didn’t insult her and her professionalism. She might have a weak spot for Ben and Zeke, but she didn’t always bump their stuff up. If she did, it was for a damn good reason. Not to mention, she processed Tonya’s crime scene yesterday morning. It wasn’t her only case.
“Do you have anything to tell me about the case? Because if not, I’d like you to leave.” She wasn’t about to put up with his attitude. Not anymore. Not like she usually did because she didn’t want to create tension. Well, he was creating it, and enlarging it, perfectly fine on his own.
“We don’t have much information yet. According to the responding officer, her roommate found her. We haven’t interviewed her yet,” Sauer said quietly, glancing between them, more so on Newman. “So far, the only difference I see in the two cases, there doesn’t appear to have been a struggle here. Not a thing out of place. It’s odd.”
She nodded at Sauer and bent down again near the victim to start her work. Sauer made a good point about the state of the bedroom, but she didn’t want to hash out the scene with him. She wanted them
both to leave. Now.
Dr. Everly, the coroner, should be here soon. As soon as he arrived and looked over the victim as well, she could start collecting any evidence off the body, like swabbing her neck for DNA. Unless the perp wore gloves, which might’ve been the case with the first victim because no DNA had been found anywhere in the crime scene.
But her professionalism, and respect for Sauer, wouldn’t let her ignore him and his comments.
“Sounds like the first victim, a roommate coming home late in the morning, almost as if the killer knew they wouldn’t be interrupted. I don’t know what to say about the lack of a struggle. Maybe he surprised her and subdued her rather quickly. In frank words, he had practice. He knew what not to repeat. Learned from his mistakes, so to speak. Or, maybe he cleaned up after himself, if there happened to be a struggle.”
Sauer grimaced, but nodded. “I’m thinking the victims might’ve been stalked beforehand. Tonya’s sister had been staying with her for the past three weeks. This victim, Bethany, she’s had a roommate for the past year,” Sauer said quietly, then cleared his throat. “Well, we’ll let you get to work. Bye, Susan.”
She waved to Sauer, ignoring Newman altogether.
“Your favoritism is bullshit. You’re always putting Zeke and Ben’s work above others. Maybe I need to have a word with your supervisor about it. I’m not sure that would go over well, especially since I hear you’re applying for the position.”
Susan slowly stood up and took her time turning around to face Newman. Sauer had already left the room. Not that she needed him, afraid Newman would hurt her, but having a witness to the conversation would’ve been beneficial.
Because that sounded a lot like he just threatened her if she didn’t push his case ahead of everyone elses.
“You’re out of line, Newman. You do what you have to do.” She jerked her hand toward the doorway. “Now get the hell out of my crime scene.”
His jaw clenched, as if he wanted to say more, but must’ve changed his mind and walked out of the room without another word.
Susan wanted to slump to the floor and cry, and she wasn’t much of a crier. After everything that happened yesterday, from someone snooping in her office and stealing a file, to Rachel’s nastiness, to the shock of seeing Stitch again and sleeping with him, now this. She needed a good cry.
Newman had never scared her before.
He did now.
The scary glint in his eyes before he walked out suggested this was far from over.
Chapter 5
Setting his pencil down, something he was grateful to do, he swiped his phone from the desk and glanced at the text he received.
I’m here, but the door is locked. No sexy time, then?
Chuckling, he set his phone down without replying to Susan’s text and stood up. No need to reply when he could surprise her at the door.
Her playfulness was refreshing. The first time he met her, she had been quiet and a little bit shy. It didn’t take long, after a glass of champagne kicked in and a few dances, for her to loosen up around him.
Now…now she was a little sex vixen. He liked it. A lot.
His mouth turned up into a grin when he saw her standing by the door glaring at her phone. Did she think because he didn’t respond he was ignoring her? Maybe he should’ve texted her. He waited a long time this morning for her to come back, and by ten in the morning, he gave up and came to his shop to work on his drawing. For him, that was strange behavior. He never waited for women. They waited on him.
Flipping the lock, he then pulled open the door, let her step inside with that sexy glare still on her face, and then shut the door and relocked it.
“You didn’t answer your phone.”
“I answered the door. Isn’t that better?”
A smile brightened her face finally. “It is.”
Examining her smile a little closer, he realized he might’ve been mistaken about the glare moments before. Because, even though she had a beautiful smile on her face, her eyes looked tired and sad.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and tugged her into his embrace. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, it was a busy morning.”
She tightened the hold around him with a small shiver that didn’t go unnoticed. Something was bothering her, but she obviously didn’t want to share it with him. For now, he’d let it slide. Especially since he was trying to keep this thing between them sex only. Sharing thoughts and feelings brought everything into a territory he wasn’t ready to step into.
“Follow me. My office is this way.”
She giggled as she let him keep his arm around her shoulders as they walked down the long hallway. “That sounded so official. You don’t think I’m getting a tattoo, do you?”
Stopping in front of his door, he took a step back and grazed his eyes up and down her delectable body. Her hair, as usual, was up in a ponytail. She liked to wear her hair up. Perhaps a small tattoo on her neck, maybe behind her ear where he could admire it, then lay a trail of kisses as he made his way lower. Oh, yeah, he would die to get his hands on her exquisite skin and give her the most gorgeous tattoo there was. The look in her eyes said that would never happen.
“You don’t want a tattoo?”
Her eyes bulged. “Is that why I’m here? You’re nuts, Stitch. I’m not getting a tattoo.”
With a short laugh, he gestured for her to enter his room. “That wasn’t my intention today, actually, but damn, Suzey baby, I’d love to give you a tattoo.”
She hesitated, but then stepped inside. Her eyes glided around the room at the sketches and pictures on the walls. Some were drawn in pencil, pieces of inspiration he used when he was stuck finding creativity. Some were his favorite tattoos he ever created. He hand picked each piece. Occasionally he switched them out. But it was rare. These pictures were the best of the best of his talent.
Susan slowly walked around the room looking at each piece with care. That simple forethought meant a lot to him. Most people walked in, looked around, and then dismissed them. Not Susan. She inspected each picture as if she were at a prestigious art gallery trying to find the meaning in the painting. Things like a skull, all black and white, with a pop of red for the eyes. A snake, long and fierce, wrapped around in tight coils, almost appearing like a maze. A portrait of someone’s grandfather, a pilot back in the day, wearing his full gear and looking every inch the hero that he was. A simple rose, red and pink, with petals falling gently around it. When she stopped in front of a sketch of a pin-up woman dressed in a bikini, she smiled, and then turned to him.
“Wow. You have a talent that…it leaves me speechless.”
“I love what I do.”
Walking closer to him, she glanced at the drawing on his desk. “I can tell.” She touched the paper on the edge, her eyes squinting in concentration, then relaxed. “When you said you had to work, I thought that meant the shop would be open.”
“No. I never open on Sundays. I like to have at least one day off.” He gestured at his desk. “I was working on this. Gotta tattoo this one later this week.”
A large tree, the branches protruding in every direction, but instead of simple branches, words replaced them. A small tree house sat squarely in the middle. He was creating it from scratch with a few ideas given to him by the client. The man, a father who recently lost his six-year-old son in a car accident, nearly cried as he tried to tell him what he wanted. A way to honor his child. His heart hurt thinking about the man’s pain. Each word held a meaning to the father, just as the tree house symbolized something special to him. The drawing was only taking him so long to finish because he wanted it to look perfect. He wanted the father to find some peace within it. Because like him, some people needed a bit of peace from a tattoo.
The damn thing was also taking him so long because of his hand and wrist. He started to reach for his wrist to rub it, but stopped himself. He couldn’t let Susan know it was bothering him. He couldn’t let anyone know.
�
�It’s beautiful, Stitch.”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her closer, brushing a few stray strands of hair back from her face. “You’re beautiful. You look tired. I’d love to take you hard and fast against my desk, but maybe I should take you home to a bed.”
Her eyes glittered with desire. “I like that idea. I am tired. And hungry. I didn’t eat lunch yet.”
“We’ll grab something on the way.” He grabbed his phone from his desk and slid it into his pocket. “And we need to talk about something.”
♡
And we need to talk about something.
Well, didn’t that put her at ease.
She knew what he wanted to talk about. Obviously. He was done with her. With the sex. With everything.
Why else would he suggest going back to his house when they could’ve had perfectly good sex right there? Of course, that wasn’t normal behavior for her. In fact, she wasn’t adventurous when it came to bedroom activities. But with Stitch, she found herself wanting to be. Wanting to branch out and try new things.
Damn it. She wanted hard and fast sex against his desk.
He made her feel daring and bold and like a woman who was sexy. Not just plain old Susan.
She followed him to his house after they decided to order pizza. By the time they arrived, the pizza guy was pulling into the driveway as well. Perfect timing. Stitch paid the guy and they settled into the living room after he grabbed some plates and napkins from the kitchen.
After taking a few bites, eating in a semi-awkward silence, maybe only on her part, she couldn’t take it anymore.
“So…what do we need to talk about?”
He took a bite of pizza, slowly chewed it, then decided to put the rest back on his plate. “Well, I actually had a reason to see you yesterday. Having sex was an added bonus.”
Okay. She wasn’t sure whether she was relieved or more terrified by what he had to say.
One Taste of Sin (A One Taste Novel Book 4) Page 5
