Bet Me

by Catherine Mann

  No more delays.

  “I’ll wait.” She couldn’t think about club sandwiches when she needed to clear the air. “Although I’ll take the lemonade.”

  She swiped her drink off one of the trays and stole a sip. The moment reminded her about her accidental bout of drunkenness earlier in the day, and she felt compelled to relay the incident to Simon in lengthy detail to put off their current conversation.

  And while he expressed shock and dismay in all the right places, he quickly steered them back to his real concern—after testing her lemonade for possible contamination.

  “I’m getting the feeling I’m not going to particularly like your motives for going home with me that night, am I?” He rolled his shirtsleeve back, one crisp fold of fabric after another.

  There was something inherently masculine in the movement, a slow unveiling of raw male power beneath the trappings of a gentleman. Her heart jumped in speed as she watched him from a few feet away, him spotlighted under the recessed lighting of the dining room, her in the dim living room.

  She leaned against the back of the couch and set aside the lemonade.

  “Bottom line, I wanted to be with you.” It probably ranked as the most provocative statement she’d ever made to a man. But he deserved to know that basic truth before going into the rest of the story. “Despite the cool vibe I put out—and that’s a habit I can’t help because of issues I have with men in general—I definitely had the hots for you.”

  “Had.” He repeated the word as if this was the most significant thing he could find in a loaded statement. “That’s past tense?”

  “Can we maybe deal with one thing at a time here?”

  “Got it.” He reached for his lemonade and took a long drink.

  “But even though it had been a semi-well-established fact among my friends and coworkers that I suffered a small…affection…for you, I would have never approached you that night without some prodding.”

  “You’re trying to tell me I owe it to cheap wine and the nudge of your girlfriends that you made your way across a crowded room to talk to me.”

  She wished she could leave it at that. But that wouldn’t be totally honest of her, would it?

  “Actually, you were part of a bet. I bet my friends I’d be the first woman in the Las Vegas Police Department to see you naked.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “AND THIS WOULD offend me…how?” This was her big secret?

  “You’re not mad?” Her relief seemed genuine, the stiff set of her shoulders easing.

  “Why would I be mad? A gorgeous woman sets out to seduce me? That’s a fantasy for guys.” He’d half hoped that she hid a secret more nefarious to balance out the fact that he’d left at dawn the next day and never called to clear things up with her.

  “You have to admit, if a man did that to a woman—you know, made a bet with his friends that he’d get her into bed—a woman would think that was pretty raunchy.”

  “That’s the difference between men and women. We’re all pretty much game for being seduced.” His gaze slid south along Dorian’s admirable curves. “What I want to know is where are those friends of yours to coerce you into seducing me now?”

  “They’re both working undercover assignments around the city this weekend. But I don’t think they’d be so quick to turn me loose on a man now. Last time they were mostly trying to help me forget about the perp I shot the week before.”

  Simon set down his lemonade glass, figuring the clinking ice cubes must have interfered with his hearing.

  “Run that by me again?”

  She twisted the gold ring around her index finger.

  “I’d shot my first suspect during an arrest gone bad the week before our night together. The guy pulled a gun before we got the cuffs on him in a suspected assault charge. I’d been really torn up about it because they didn’t expect the guy to live, but then we got some additional evidence in our case that he’d raped a mother of two before killing her.” She shook her head hard, as if she could physically shake off unpleasant memories.

  Simon didn’t remember walking over to her, but he was suddenly right in front of her, folding her into his arms.

  “You did the right thing.”

  “I know.” She nodded against his shoulder even as he felt a warm tear soak through his shirt. “But I’d found out that morning that the guy was going to pull through after all and I had this moment of—it’s awful to say—but just this wrenching disappointment that I’d somehow let the woman down. And while I stifled the reaction, I knew it had been there and it made me feel like a monster. Like I was no better than the creep I shot.”

  “You know better now, right?” He stroked her hair while she kept her face buried against his shoulder. “Internal Affairs wouldn’t have cleared you if you were a monster. They wouldn’t have you working cases like this one if they thought you posed a threat. But you didn’t shoot him because you thought he raped a woman. You took him down because he defied the authority of a cop and resisted arrest. If you hadn’t acted, you would have been knowingly unleashing a criminal with no respect for the law onto the streets.”

  “I didn’t have to think such bloodthirsty thoughts.”

  “Every cop in the world has had those thoughts, babe, or they wouldn’t be human. No father could arrest a child molester without wanting to wreak stark, personal vengeance right then and there. But good cops don’t act on those thoughts, they just make the arrest and hope like hell the justice system works.”

  Here, at least, was the real reason she’d hit on him that night. It didn’t have a damn thing to do with a bet and had everything to do with being caught in an emotional nightmare. Today he was seeing facets of Dorian he’d never even suspected. And hell, underneath it all she’d admitted to liking him at one time.

  That in itself blew him away.

  “Sorry to unload all of this on you when we have a million other things to think about.” She straightened, a deep breath bracing those stubborn shoulders of hers all over again.

  “We don’t, though. From what I can tell now, it’s a waiting game.” He couldn’t make himself let go of her just yet, his hands curving around her shoulders to hold her there another minute. “We find out what we can on Konstantinou and wait for Tex’s party to see if his high-powered friends are as dangerous as we think they might be.”

  “Are you suggesting we don’t have anything to do until tomorrow?” She didn’t shake loose of his touch, but she didn’t exactly melt in his arms, either. “That seems like too much time to fill with my life saga. We’ve been back in each other’s company for less than twenty-four hours, and I’ve already told you all my worst stories.”

  He smoothed his fingertips across the tops of her shoulders, remembering exactly what she felt like without her jacket on. Without anything on. His awareness of her—already hyper-attuned—couldn’t miss the way her breath caught when he touched her.

  “Want me to brainstorm ways to fill the time?” His top three all involved peeling Dorian’s clothes off, but he didn’t share that with her for fear of scaring her away.

  “I could start by apologizing for coming on to you when I didn’t have my head on straight. While it was convenient and relieved me of a certain amount of guilt that you left first that morning, I guess there’s a good chance I might have done the same thing if I’d opened my eyes before you.”

  Her words stung just a little, but they were damn well soothed by the fact that he had his hands on her, remembering every curve and nuance of her softly scented skin.

  “Even though you didn’t have the excuse of being undercover like me?”

  “I was in the middle of a moral crisis.” She shrugged, her shoulder rising beneath his palm. “That’s enough of an excuse.”

  “Interesting.” He slid his hands closer to her neck, dipping slightly beneath her jacket to massage her shoulders without the extra layer of clothing. “Ever wonder why you need the excuse of a crisis to be with me? To be with an
y man?”

  SHE MIGHT HAVE BEEN more offended by his words if her skin hadn’t been on fire from his touch.

  Dorian struggled for the right response to his question—denial or an argument? But the longer she allowed Simon’s incredible hands to work her over, to generate heat and hunger inside her, the more she realized she had no good reason.

  Only excuses.

  “Sex comes with a lot of mental baggage when your mom’s a…um…professional.” She’d known it, but she’d never admitted it out loud. Maybe she hadn’t even really admitted it to herself.

  Putting the simple truth out there relieved her somehow, clearing the way for a solution or at least a plan of action.

  His thumbs dipped beneath the bra straps of her corset, unleashing an electric current of heat even though his hands remained on the tops of her shoulders.

  “I’ve heard tossing baggage out the window every now and then can be very freeing.”

  “Is that right?”

  “You could decide to be with me just because you’re dying to have me and not because any life explosion has tipped you sideways.”

  She couldn’t answer while she held her breath, waiting for his thumbs to work their way down a little farther. But he stilled, halting his progress for a few interminable seconds until she understood she had to make a decision.

  Did she want Simon now, when she couldn’t write off her response to him as an adrenaline byproduct of the job? Saying yes to him now would mean admitting a deeper attraction than she’d ever owned up to before.

  Her body urged her to acknowledge it. Fulfill it. Her spine arched subtly toward his touch in silent admission of everything she wanted.

  “Well?” he pressed, his voice taking on a smoky, bedroom quality she wanted breathed all over her skin.

  “I—” Confessing a weakness for Simon made her vulnerable to him. To this. But dear God, who would she be kidding if she denied it? “I want you.”

  Decision made, her knees went weak beneath her, making her sway toward him. A force stronger than gravity seemed to draw her there, urging her closer to him.

  Their mouths met in a melting moment that turned her whole body liquid. She sighed her pleasure, parting her lips to the seductive stroke of his tongue between her teeth.

  Heat engulfed her, intensifying everything she felt for him. It had been a whole year since she’d kissed a man, touched a man. No, not just any man. Simon.

  Powerful feelings wound up with toe-curling responses, making it difficult for her to tell where one ended and the other began. She’d wanted him for so long before she’d slept with him last time. He’d been patient with her rebuffs, waiting for her to see him as more than just some guy who liked to flirt with her.

  Then she’d dragged him back home with her in a night of professional crisis. Sabotaging a relationship purposely?

  “Simon?” She broke off the kiss, panicked at the thought.

  He blinked back at her, eyes as passion-dazed as she knew hers must be.

  “Please say you’re not bailing on me now.” He twined one of the laces from her corset around his finger and tugged gently. “I wanted to see you come all undone for me tonight.”

  “We have to promise to still be in this bed in the morning.” She didn’t know if that sounded like the plea of an insecure woman, but she understood they needed to talk. “I’m asking that of myself as much as you or we shouldn’t go through with this.”

  “I promise I won’t let you out of bed until after sunrise.” He pulled the lace harder, untying the ribbon from its bow in the valley of her cleavage and ignoring all the pesky hooks at her back that she’d worked hard to fasten. Why did she have to fight so hard to accomplish things that came so easily to other people? “What about you, Dorian? Are you going to do your best to keep me here all night?”

  The corset loosened its hold on her breasts and ribs, sliding open to her waist before hitching on her hips.

  She appreciated his easy acceptance of her terms, his ability to turn her request into a sensual challenge. If any man could help her see the lighter side of sex, he could. And that sounded so enticing tonight, when her world wanted to crash in on her from all sides.

  “Are you kidding?” She helped him undo the last of the lacing that allowed the corset to skim all the way to the floor. “I’ve been without for a whole year. I’m prepared to make sure you can hardly move in the morning, let alone walk away.”

  Stepping out of the corset, she reached for the waistband of her skirt. She had no idea if she could make good on her threat, but it would be fun to try. Just watching Simon’s eyes zero in on her hand at her waist sent a thrill through her clear down to her toes.

  “Let me.” He reached for the zipper to unfasten her skirt.

  Fingertips brushing her skin, he worked the hooks and lowered the tab, revealing the red panties that matched the corset. She hadn’t planned on anyone seeing that part of her costume, but since the whole get-up came as a set, she’d figured the full working-girl regalia would help ground her in the cover. Hearing Simon’s ragged intake of breath now as he eased her skirt off to reveal the garter belt and panties was a delectable bonus.

  “You’re getting ahead of me,” she whispered, unfastening the buttons on his shirt in a sudden urge to get him naked. “Let me catch up.”

  Was he as impressive as she remembered? They’d only been together that one night and her perceptions had been ever so slightly colored by alcohol. Could he possibly be as well built as she made him in her daydreams?

  “Take your time.” He traced the lace on her garter belt with his finger, curving around her hip and then angling in toward her belly. “I could look at you all night.”

  Tugging his shirttails free of his pants, she undid the last of the buttons and pushed the shirt off his shoulders. Umm. If his chest was anything to judge by, this man would live up to every one of her memories.

  She undid his belt buckle, her fingers grazing the hard heat of him through his trousers. Her heart rate kicked up as she tugged the leather out of the belt loops and tossed it aside.

  Before she could unfasten his fly he lifted her off her feet to kiss her, pressing her body to his. Her bare breasts grazed his chest. She whimpered with hunger at the feel of him when he aligned their hips for one heart-stopping minute. She broke free of the kiss, desperate to make her wishes known.

  “I want you to do more than look.” Her words tripped over her ragged breaths, her whole body tingling with need. Her head buzzed with urgency as if she had a chorus of rising drumbeats pounding inside her brain.

  “By all means, Dor, tell me everything you want and that’s exactly what I’m going to give you.” His hands were molded to her backside, holding her against him and he wriggled his fingers now for emphasis.

  Heat shot through her, inspiring her to spell out her wishes while she had the chance.

  “I want your hands all over me. I want us both naked. I want to be under you, over you and all around you. Then I want you to take me on the dining table, the sofa and the bed. Then maybe against the balcony doors. Then on the balcony with the lights of the Strip reflecting all over us.” She could think of ten other ways she wanted him. “Or else scratch all that and do whatever you will with me as long as you’re inside me.”

  For one pulse-pounding moment she thought maybe she’d rendered Agent Type A speechless. But he recovered in the next second, whipping around to head toward the dining room.

  “That has to be the hottest to do list any woman has ever given a man.” He wrapped her legs around his waist to carry her in a way that brought the neediest part of her in sweetly pleasurable contact with the hardest part of him. “Since the dining table is closest, it looks like I’m going to make a feast of you first.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  SIMON REMEMBERED EXACTLY how hot he’d been for Dorian the last time they’d fallen into bed together. The sex had been as phenomenal as he’d ever imagined and better.

  But this ti
me was different.

  He settled her on the long, oval-shaped table centered underneath a crystal chandelier, the polished hardwood surface gleaming under the low setting of the overhead lighting. This time his heart had been called into the act so sharply he’d be an idiot not to notice. Her plea for sex all over the hotel suite might seem like a normal, healthy drive for a red-blooded woman, but he knew that carnal request hadn’t come easily for Dorian. Her upbringing had made her a conservative woman—a woman who dressed in gray flannel and pastel silks, a woman who took her job seriously because she’d made it the focal point of her life. She’d never dated anyone on the force that he knew of, and he’d kept close tabs on her for nearly two years now.

  For her to trust him this way seemed all the more significant since she usually kept a tight rein on herself.