Playing Dirty

by HelenKay Dimon

  Reid snorted. “What a hardship.”

  “We don’t know that she’s involved in any of this.” Ford hoped to hell she wasn’t. He couldn’t see it. Didn’t want to see it.

  “That’s your job to figure out.” Josiah clapped him on the back. “Be gentle.”

  Good advice, and since he would rather tangle with terrorists than an angry woman any damn day, Ford decided to take it.

  8

  SHAY THREW her head back and let the winding sensation inside her grab even tighter. Her bare thighs pressed against the outside of Ford’s as she rode up and down on his erection. When his hands clenched on her hips, she slapped a palm against his headboard and dug her fingernails into the leather for leverage.

  She wanted him deeper. Harder.

  One of his palms found the back of her neck and he pulled her head down. Lips met lips in a mind-­blowing kiss that had her head spinning even as her orgasm exploded inside her. With her breath catching in her throat, she moaned against his mouth. When he lifted his lower body one last time, a fresh tremble raced through her sensitive inner muscles.

  Every part of her shook as her hips continued to flex and buck without any signal from her brain. It was pure sensation. The amazing friction of skin against skin that sent heat spiraling through her.

  “So fucking good.” He ground out his words as his lips traveled to her neck.

  The kisses, firm and hot, wet and intensely wild, skimmed down to the base of her throat. One hand slid up her back and the other snuck down to cup her ass.

  She lifted up on her knees then sank down again, gasping as her body closed around his. “Yes.”

  His hands moved all over her now as his mouth traced her collarbone. He touched her like he always did, with a frantic desperation that said he couldn’t get close enough, fast enough.

  He understood her body. Had learned just where to lick and how to caress. From that first night when he’d knocked on her door holding a pizza, it had been combustible between them. She didn’t crawl into bed with men she barely knew, but something about this one, with the broad shoulders and sleek athlete’s build, had her drowning in stupid from the second he smiled at her.

  And she wasn’t about to slow down now.

  Her fingers slipped into his hair and pulled his mouth tighter against her heated flesh. A shiver shook through her as his shoulders strained. When she shifted her hips, he groaned. So she did it a second time, grinding against him and letting the rub of their bodies send him tumbling over the edge.

  They’d been all over each other. Touched and tasted every inch. Still, she never tired of watching him as he came. The orgasm slammed into him now and he didn’t fight it or hold back. When his hips finally stopped moving, his shoulders pressed back into the pillows. Those eyes drifted shut as the tension ran out of him, leaving nothing but a sprawl of glorious male.

  Before she could lift up and off of him, he tugged her closer. His eyes open now, he brushed those fingertips down her body to the juncture between her thighs. When the pad of his finger slipped over her, she jerked, unable to hold her body still.

  His eyebrow lifted. “Sensitive or sore?”

  She noticed his voice still shook from the force of his heavy breathing. “Satiated.”

  The room spun as he pressed a hand against her lower back and rolled her to the side. Her back hit the mattress and 180 pounds of sexy male loomed over her a second later. She loved this position, being surrounded by him. Smelling him and seeing a close-­up spark in those intelligent eyes.

  With their bodies still joined, he balanced his upper body on his elbows and ran the tip of his finger around her left nipple. “I like your use of S words.”

  She touched him then because she couldn’t not touch him. Her palm danced over his chin then across his cheekbones. “Just how bad was that ser­vice call?”

  His face went blank as he stared down at her. “What?”

  This she didn’t love. She asked one question too many and all the emotion drained from his face. His practiced look of disinterest sparked doubt in her. The kind of doubt that had her wanting to take her uncle up on his suggestion of a big investigation into Ford Decker’s past. Not that she was proud of the snooping temptation, but being a building manager, going in and out of strangers’ apartments, she was more cautious than most.

  Then there were the frequent calls that took him out of the house. She didn’t understand everything an IT specialist did, but clearly the job description included some sort of be-­on-­call-­all-­the-­time provision for Ford.

  “You got the text yesterday, took off, and when you got back an hour ago . . . well, I’m not complaining about the getting back part.” She stopped because it was too early in their relationship, if that’s what it even was, to make a list of demands. But she did want some respectful ground rules. “A woman loves being swept off her feet, but you carried me across the hall and almost forgot to shut my front door before you stripped my bra off.”

  He glanced over his shoulder in the general direction of his family room and the front door beyond. “Did I actually get it closed?”

  “Yes, but you were very focused on getting naked.”

  The corner of his mouth kicked up in a smile. “Do you blame me? Those jeans you had on, all tight and perfect in the way they frame your ass, had me crazed.”

  “Sweet talker.” The things he said, the way he looked—­it all worked for her.

  His thumb went to her bottom lip. “I missed you.”

  And wasn’t that the sexiest thing ever. “Me, too, especially since I didn’t know when you’d be back.”

  Or if . . . that was the unspoken word she dropped from the sentence. Her last relationship was with a gigantic asshole with an even bigger secret. His betrayal taught her to ask questions and not trust blindly. She kept telling herself that laying the groundwork with Ford didn’t matter because this was just sex, but her head and every other interested part of her were at war on this one. Three weeks in and she’d started spinning tales of things they could do together in the future.

  Ford wasn’t Devin. This was about pleasure, not about using her. But the doubts weaseled their way into her brain. Ford didn’t offer any information about his life. He didn’t have family photos or talk about past loves. He worked, took her to bed, and spent a lot of time on his phone. That was about it.

  All the evidence suggested he was single and available. If it turned out he was married or Devin the Second, she might just throw him in the middle of traffic.

  “Sorry.” Ford whispered the word right before he kissed her.

  An apology? She was still waiting for one of those from Devin. The dumbass.

  In her mental wanderings, she lost track of the conversation. She needed to rewind. “For what?”

  “I get to work and it’s nonstop action. It’s kind of the nature of the gig. Somebody always wants something.”

  Part of her knew that. She’d seen Ford come in off a days-­long shift with the tension pulling around his mouth and eyes. More than once he’d explained away a limp by too many hours sitting in one position as he tried to figure out some complex but confidential computer issue affecting a multinational corporation.

  Still, she wished he’d slow down and find a speed other than off or racing. “Your life is all emergencies and no down time.”

  “But that’s no excuse.” This time the kiss lingered and he only lifted his head when she wrapped her legs tighter around his trim hips. “Next time I’ll at least text.”

  Her heart skipped. Actually did this rat-­a-­tat-­tat thing that made her freeze for a second. “You don’t have to—­”

  “Shay.” He placed a finger across her lips. “I said I’ll text. You deserve that much.”

  The mood morphed into something deep and a little scary. Still smarting from her last relationship gone wrong, jump
ing into a new one that seemed stuck in super speed terrified her. From that first impulsive night together, she’d promised herself the time with Ford would be light and fun. But the days passed and something shifted and now everything he said made her insides dance and spin.

  Yeah, she was definitely drowning when it came to him.

  She tried to joke even as her stomach tightened and the lightness whooshed out of her. “Well, as your landlord, I would have to report you missing if I didn’t see you for a few days.”

  He put a palm on each cheek. “As the woman who’s sharing my bed—­the only woman sharing my bed, in case that’s not clear—­you get to know where I am.”

  Those words meant too much. She tried to slam on the brakes. “I . . . okay. Sure, um, we can—­”

  “And I want the same from you.”

  She waited for him to push too hard. For the idea of something bigger to overwhelm her and be too much. But the usual anxiety didn’t come. It always came, even with Devin and that time she should have listened to the quiet voice inside her head. She wondered why the hell it was on vacation now.

  “I’m almost always here at the complex. This or the one two blocks down.”

  “I’m actually trying to make a point here, Shay.” That deep voice sounded so serious.

  She swallowed. It was either that or climb right up on top of him and . . . “Which is?”

  “I’d like us to have some obligations toward each other. Monogamy, communication. The usual.”

  “That sounds serious.”

  “Grown-­up even.” He pretended to shudder. “What’s happening to me?”

  With that the building tension seeped out of the room. “All kinds of sexy times could happen for you if you don’t go all jerky on me right now.”

  “I’m going to take you up on that, but first I need a shower.” He slipped out of her as he lifted up and shifted to the side. “Damn, you feel good.”

  “A shower? Now?”

  “I should have taken care of that before I came over and snagged you as part of my caveman routine, but I was pretty desperate to rip those jeans off you.”

  She glanced around his king-­sized bed and the sparse blue bedroom, looking for any sign of her clothes. She didn’t spy so much as a sock. “You’re very talented.”

  “Want me to show you my shower skills?” He wiggled his eyebrows as he leaned down again.

  She stopped him with a laugh and a hand against his chest. “I’m familiar with those, but I think we need to find some food first or we’ll both pass out.”

  He sighed as if the weight of the entire male race rested on his impressive shoulders. “Damn.”

  The world had shifted back into alignment. This she could handle. The banter and flirting. This part didn’t bring memories zinging back or open her up to pain. “You shower. I’ll find food and I’ll meet you in the family room.”

  His gaze did a little roaming and the heat sparked again. “Naked.”

  She scooped up the sheet and held it against her chest as she searched for something of his to wear. A few more minutes without clothes and they’d never eat. “I am not cooking naked.”

  He frowned. “You ruin all my fun.”

  “I know. Women are the worst.”

  “Exactly.” He stood up, not doing anything to cover up or hide the stirring down below. “But you should feel free to ogle me while I walk away.”

  Oh, she definitely planned on doing just that. “So romantic.”

  With a final wink, he slipped into the bathroom and out of sight. She waited for a return performance. He’d pulled that move before. Leave then storm back in for a kiss that turned her knees to pudding and her brain to mush. But this time she heard the shower spray.

  Dropping the sheet, she reached for the gray T-­shirt folded on top of his chest of drawers. For a second her hand hovered near the biggest drawer. It was so tempting to look inside, to find some clue about what made up the complex and sexy man she wanted in her bed each night.

  She settled for bacon instead. Just thinking about it made her smell the nonexistent stuff.

  With her stomach growling, she walked through the family room, ignoring the tightly drawn curtains. Thank goodness for the alcove dining area. Ford used it as an office and the shade was up for once, letting the bright fall sun pour in.

  On the way to the kitchen her foot snagged her discarded panties. Then she spied the jeans thrown on the floor. She grabbed the clothes she could find and stopped when the heaviness in her hands reminded her of the missed call, and she went digging in her pockets for her phone.

  She unlocked it and scanned the incoming call list. Her uncle and a few tenants but nothing from Trent. He’d ventured so far out of touch this time she worried about his safety every minute. Looked as if she needed to ask Anthony a third time to call the police. If he still balked, she’d do it. Let Trent get pissed off. He had earlier this year when she asked for a wellness check. She doubted this time would be different.

  Her uncle would hate her going behind his back, but his thing with Trent getting lost in his work and disappearing for weeks at a time didn’t work for her at all. She didn’t care about the phone call Anthony got from Trent’s boss yesterday reassuring him that Trent had camped out at work in a frenzy to finish some project.

  All she needed was ten seconds of conversation with Trent. A hello. She didn’t think that was too much to ask.

  She sighed and glanced toward the bedroom. The water shut off at that moment and she had to smile. Nothing like going from thinking about one mystery man to another. Her cousin, Ford . . . both shook her sense of security, but in very different ways.

  She set the cell on the granite breakfast bar with a click and headed for the fridge. Her fingers had just hit the handle when the doorbell buzzed. The sudden sound broke through the silent room and had her jumping. She may have even yelped.

  Tugging on the bottom of the soft T-­shirt, she rounded the corner and peeked through the peephole. Even through the blur of the tiny window Shay made out a figure, blond and female. Definitely female.

  Forget all the fancy thoughts and his talk of monogamy. Ford was a dead man.

  Without thinking, Shay threw the bolt and pulled the door open. She tried not to stare but the woman on the other side did the up-­and-­down thing, which was just about the rudest thing ever. From the shirt barely skimming Shay’s upper thighs, it wouldn’t take a genius to know what Ford had been doing last night. If that made Shay the “other woman” without knowing it, she really would find that busy intersection and heave Ford in it.

  Without the glass distortion, Shay got a good look at the woman. Tall and lean with high cheekbones. Really pretty in a put-­together, both-­men-­and-­women-­would-­stare kind of way. Her hair lay straight and perfect, falling over her shoulders and partway down her back.

  Shay felt like an unmade bed. She pulled her fingers through her hair in a feeble attempt not to look like she wore a small dog on her head.

  She studied the woman in front of her. She was one of those women who worked out at the gym but barely broke a sweat. She had smooth skin and big brown eyes. If there was an inch of fat on her, she hid it well, and the hint of makeup enhanced rather than detracted, making it tough to pin her age to anything other than somewhere between her late twenties to her early forties.

  “Hi.” That’s it. That’s all Tasha could get out. The other woman smiled. “You must be Shay Alexander.”

  Shay had no idea what the whole personal greeting thing meant. “Do we know each other?”

  The mystery woman’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “No, but we will.”

  9

  EVEN WITHOUT the British accent, Ford recognized that cool voice coming from his family room. He dropped the damp towel on the floor on his way to the dresser for a tee. He nearly did some serious damage
when he zipped on his jeans.

  Breaking speed records, he stepped into the family room a second later. Just in time to see Shay’s ass from where her borrowed shirt rode up in the back. The contrast with his boss, who stood at the front door as if conducting a silent countdown to shoving her way inside, proved pretty interesting. Since that same boss never traveled anywhere without a weapon, Ford walked faster.

  Stopping next to Shay, he reached out and tugged the cotton down until his shirt covered as much of her as possible, but his focus stayed on his unwanted and lethal guest. “Tasha?”

  Shay’s eyes narrowed into tiny slits as she looked between Tasha and Ford. “You know each other?”

  Tasha kept smiling. Didn’t blink or move. “We shared a birth canal.”

  And with that Ford’s mind went blank. He couldn’t have come up with a coherent response if someone pointed a grenade launcher at his head.

  “Excuse me?” Shay pulled the edge of the shirt down in front as she backed up against him. She didn’t stop until her butt rested against his thigh.

  “Not really. I’m messing with you.” The laughter came next. Tasha burst out with an uncharacteristic giggle. “I’m his sister.”

  “I, ah . . .” It took Shay a second to get the sputtering under control. “I didn’t know he had one.”

  Neither did Ford. He’d analyze that after he got over the sight of Tasha performing the perfect carefree giggle. The woman could drop a grown man with the heel of her hand. Hell, she once drugged Ward and tied him up. Ward, a career black ops expert.

  But Ford had a bigger problem. He’d been careful not to provide personal information to Shay other than the work and education basics. He searched his memory for any drop about siblings to figure out if he had to fix Tasha’s quick thinking.

  He settled for an answer that gave him room for wordplay if needed. “Half, actually. Our parents married when she was little, and I came along right after.”