A Wicked Seduction

by Janelle Denison

  He watched her swallow as she considered his idea and all the sensual possibilities awaiting them if she agreed to his tantalizing suggestion. He longed to indulge in the kind of pleasing, arousing recreation they’d both enjoyed back at the motel before they’d been stopped by her alarm clock and the need to get back on the road.

  He saw the tension in her body from being stranded gradually fade away, replaced by desire and an undeniable excitement flaring to life in the depths of her eyes. “I’m game if you are,” she whispered, and made good on her own daring response by being the first one to climb into the back of the Suburban.

  8

  JO SETTLED onto her knees on the soft, flannel blanket she’d spread out in the cargo area, and waited for Dean to join her. Her gaze scanned the space, taking in her traveling gear, the cooler, and their baggage, which she’d pushed up against the sides of the truck to make more room for them in the middle. There was a good six feet of cleared space, more than enough for her to stretch out on, but it would no doubt come up a few inches short for Dean.

  She caught sight of her unusable cell phone, a direct, unwanted reminder of everything that awaited her back home. Reality, and a strict, by-the-book brother who’d never trust the choice she was about to make, no matter that Dean was an innocent man.

  Undoubtedly, Cole would be concerned if he tried to call and couldn’t reach her, believing she was out of reach and possibly in trouble with a convicted felon. He’d worry as any sibling would, but ultimately he’d have to believe in her and her instincts and abilities, which was a difficult feat for Cole when it came to her, she knew.

  But right now, at this very moment, she wanted to forget everything but this man she was highly attracted to. She didn’t want to think about Cole or the lecture she was in store for, or how everyone questioned her judgment for the past two years, herself included. She wasn’t questioning her choice with Dean anymore. She was taking back control of a part of her life she’d lost after Brian’s death. Now, she wanted, needed, to feel alive and desirable, and Dean Colter made that possible.

  Her entire body pulsed in awareness as Dean wedged his way through the opening and the earthy scent of him filled her senses. Figuring there was no point in being shy, modest, or coy, she shook off every inhibition she’d ever possessed. Sexually and physically, he thrilled and aroused her. Emotionally and personally, he seemed to understand her more than any man ever had, and that was an equal turn-on for her.

  After taking off his wet shoes and socks, as she’d already done, he knelt in front of her and braced his hands on his spread thighs, which brought her attention to the blatant erection already straining the fly of his jeans. She swallowed to ease the dryness in her throat. Every bit of him was big, solid, and male, and she instinctively knew that whatever happened between them this afternoon would be like nothing she’d ever experienced before.

  Dean was a man who could give her everything she craved on a purely physical level, satisfy all the pleasures she’d denied herself for years, but would make no demands on her when their time together came to an end in a few days. They lived in separate states, led very different lives. Neither one of them was looking for a commitment or strings and she felt selfish enough to take this encounter to the extreme because no man had ever made her feel or want so much. After spending the past two years trying to prove her self-worth and focusing on her abduction cases, she was going to put her needs first and please herself for a change.

  And being with Dean pleased her greatly.

  Reaching out, she spread her hand on his chest, absorbing his rapid heartbeat and the scorching heat of him through the rain-dampened cotton of his T-shirt. She trailed a finger over a rigid nipple and his eyes darkened with fiery hunger.

  Her heart skipped an exciting beat. The fury of the storm continued to pelt the vehicle with loud droplets, creating a lush, provocative staccato that heightened the sensuality between them. The shelter of the tall trees around the car, coupled with the gray skies above and the steady moisture drizzling down all the windows, added to the eroticism of their encounter. It also cocooned them from the outside forces and any prying eyes that might happen upon them.

  She cast him a slow smile. “It’s definitely cramped back here,” she said, referring to their earlier conversation and all the interesting positions two people could manage in tight spaces.

  He blinked lazily, which did nothing to bank the gold hue of desire flaring in the depths of his eyes. “We’ll be creative and make it work any way we have to.”

  Gazes locked, her fingers skimmed their way down to his lean, flat abdomen, which flexed at her touch. “And it’s warm and humid inside the truck, too.” Her voice was low and breathy.

  “Makes for better friction when it comes to skin-on-skin contact.” His palms remained planted on his thighs, but his words and the deep timbre of his voice were as erotic as a caress. “Take the elastic band from your ponytail for me, Jo. I want your hair down.”

  Unable to refuse him anything, she did as he requested and rolled the band off and let her hair fall free about her shoulders. Leaning forward, he plowed all ten fingers through the damp strands and pulled her face toward his.

  Her eyelids fluttered closed and her lips parted seconds before his mouth claimed hers in a hot, open-mouthed kiss. A soft moan escaped her as she welcomed the silky invasion of his tongue and appreciated the enticing taste of scrumptious shortbread cookies and masculine possession. He took her deeper and deeper into the kiss—ravishing her mouth with his lips and teeth, mating their tongues, stealing her very breath—until all coherent thought fled her mind.

  “Your shirt,” she panted against his soft, damp lips as she tugged the material from the waistband of his jeans. “I want it off.”

  In one fluid motion he gripped the hem, pulled it over his head, and tossed the shirt aside. “Better?”

  “Oh, much.” She placed her hands on his well-defined chest, not at all surprised when her own breasts swelled at the contact. She stroked his smooth skin and firm muscle, and leaned close to scatter warm, moist kisses along his jaw, run the tip of her tongue down his neck, and suck the pulsing skin at the base of his throat.

  His entire body shuddered, and he gathered her hair in his fists as her lips coasted over his chest and she tasted the salt on his skin and inhaled the intoxicating scent of aroused male. She deliberately grazed her teeth across his erect nipples and heard him draw in a swift breath, felt the tiny nub of flesh harden even more against her curled tongue.

  Before she could continue her journey downward, he urged her with his hands to sit back up. Breathing hard, they stared at each other as a clap of thunder shook the vehicle with the sheer force of the loud boom that reverberated across the Oregon sky. A torrent of rain followed, and he fused their mouths yet again as he shifted his body and eased her down onto the blanket. He stretched out beside her and hooked his knee across her legs to accommodate the length of his frame in the small space.

  He slowed their kisses, and in his own good time unfastened the first button on her blouse, then another, and yet another, making her restless with his slow, drawn-out movements—making her dizzy with the anticipation of experiencing his sweeping caress on her exposed flesh. Once done, he pulled the ends of her opened blouse from her jeans, and she shivered when his mouth glided across the full swells of her bra-encased breasts. He continued to nibble his way to the straining peak, and once he reached his destination he tongued the distended nipple pressing against textured lace.

  A sense of urgency gripped her, and she nearly fainted with relief when he unclasped the front of her bra and finally released her breasts. Letting the cups fall to her sides, he strummed his long fingers over the aching crests, which were excruciatingly stiff from his teasing ministrations, and damp from his wet mouth and the humidity in the truck from the rain outside and the combined body heat inside. Even the windows were fogged from their heavy breathing.

  Their eyes met and locked, his dar
k, smoky gaze heavy-lidded with desire and glittering with something far more primal. He swirled his thumb around a sensitive, still-slick aureole, using the feverish warmth and dampness from her skin to increase the friction against her nipple and heighten the pure, sensual pleasure of his touch.

  He grinned knowingly, and a devilish light entered his gaze. “Kinda hot and steamy in here, don’t you think?”

  “As you can feel for yourself, I’m burning up.” She was on fire, and she had a feeling it was going to get a whole lot hotter before they were through.

  “Yeah, you are,” he agreed huskily as his gaze took in the flush on her skin. “Let’s see what we can do about lowering your temperature a little bit.”

  Pulling the small cooler closer, he flipped it open and rummaged through the chilled drinks. Instead of retrieving a canned soda as she’d expected, he instead slipped a large ice cube into his mouth, then closed his chilled, wet hand over her swollen breast. She sucked in a startled breath as new and unfamiliar sensations rippled through her, at once shocking and thrilling. Before she could push his freezing touch away, he dipped his head and lapped his cold, velvet-soft tongue up the side of her neck, then captured her mouth with his frosty lips.

  He swallowed her sultry moan, unfurled his tongue, and let the melting ice cube slide into her mouth. Then he initiated a sensual game of hide and seek with the frozen chip, chasing the piece of ice with their tongues until both their mouths had shared all of its refreshing coolness, then warmed up together again.

  The kiss went on, and her tenuous restraint spiraled and splintered, unleashing assertive, wanton urges. Needing to touch him, she let her hands drift everywhere, from his shoulders, to his arms, to his chest, belly and hips, where she encountered the frustrating barrier of his jeans.

  He broke their kiss with a harsh groan and inhaled deeply to regain his breath. “Behave yourself,” he said, staring down at her with a mock scowl.

  She rolled her eyes, completely unfazed by his attempt to intimidate her. “Why do you get to have all the fun?”

  He tipped his head and quirked a brow. “You mean to tell me you’re not having fun?”

  A slow smile curved her lips. “I just don’t think the scales are evenly tipped, what with you having the upper hand in all this.” And she intended to tip them more in her favor.

  As she talked, she skimmed her flattened palm along his thigh and came to a stop against the enormous erection nearly bursting the front placket of his jeans. He pulsed with vibrant life against her curved fingers, and a tiny thrill coursed through her that she held such power in her hands, and that she wasn’t the only one aroused so intensely. Smiling wickedly, she stroked him in slow, measured strokes. He grew thicker, longer, and hard as granite, and all she could think about was taking all that aggressive male heat into her bare palm, tasting him with her tongue, and being filled like she’d never been filled before.

  Intoxicated by the decadent thought, she acted on pure impulse. But the moment her fingers fumbled with his belt buckle to follow through on her personal fantasy, he grasped her wrists and diverted her plans. He kissed her long and hard and deep while pushing her blouse and bra up and over her head. She lifted her arms to help him remove the garments, only to find her hands tangled in the clothing and her arms stretched and anchored firmly above her head by his hold on the twisted material.

  She gave an experimental tug, but her hands remained secured and immobile. “I’m beginning to think you favor a certain erotic fixation.”

  “You mean making you a slave to my whims?” he guessed, staring at her lush breasts and jutting nipples.

  Would he ever take her into his mouth, or would he make her beg for that intimate caress? She was close to doing just that. “Otherwise known as bondage.”

  He feathered his fingers along her side and down to the indentation of her waist, making her shiver from head to toe. “Do you like being tied up like this?”

  Her body’s eager response wouldn’t let her lie. “Yes, but I’d like to touch you more.”

  He shook his head, found her hand in the folds of her blouse, and laced their fingers tightly together. “If you touch me again like you just did, I’m certain that would be the end of my control.”

  At least one of them would finally have the luxury of releasing some of the agonizing sexual tension building between them. “And that’s a bad thing?”

  His thumb swept over the rapid pulsepoint in her wrist, which matched the steady, insistent throb between her thighs. “Yeah, it would be, especially when I want to make sure you’re good and well pleased before I let myself go.”

  She batted her lashes playfully at him, teasing and taunting his restraint. “My, aren’t you the gentleman.”

  “If that’s what you’d like to think.” He grinned wolfishly, his eyes blazing with a dark, dangerous kind of edge that made her blood quicken in her veins. “Truth be told, it’s pure selfishness on my part, because I want to watch you enjoy yourself. And knowing that you’re all tied up and a captive to my will turns me on even more. Doesn’t all this excite you, even a little bit?”

  “What do you think?” she returned impudently.

  “I have my suspicions, but I think I need to be absolutely sure.” Still holding on to her wrists with one hand, he reached into the cooler again, digging deep into the ice and lingering for long seconds before bringing a large piece of ice to his mouth. This time he crunched the cube into tiny slivers, then dipped his head and took her nipple into his chilled mouth. With his fingers, he pushed her breast up to his lips, taking as much of her as he could at one time, consuming and devouring her with hard, suctioning swirls of his icy tongue across her nipple.

  Wild sensation careened through her and spiraled right to the very core of her femininity. She curled her fingers around his and opened her mouth to scream at the staggering contrast of his freezing mouth ravishing her searing flesh, but only a soft mewling sound managed to emerge. He insisted on giving both breasts equal treatment, until she was excruciatingly aroused and a carnal stroke away from climaxing.

  She heard him dig into the ice again and moaned, now knowing what to expect. Yet she still inhaled sharply when his dripping wet, frosty-cold fingers touched down on her stomach and traced a languid path over her navel to the waistband of her jeans.

  He lifted his head, met her heavy-lidded gaze, and toyed with the top button on her pants. “Do you want more?” he murmured, his question packed with a sexual connotation she couldn’t misinterpret.

  He was leaving the ultimate decision up to her, and just as he claimed to be selfish, she was feeling just as greedy. “Yes…please,” she whispered in an achy, needy tone.

  Without letting go of her restrained hands, and with an efficiency and agility that amazed her, he managed to unzip her jeans, tug them over her hips with a little wriggle of help from her, and shove the denim down to her knees. Surprisingly, he left her pale pink panties on, which were drenched with desire for him, because of him. She tried to shift her lower body to kick the restricting pants off, but he diverted her attempts by wedging his thigh between her knees just below where the heavy material ended, making it so she could only open her legs about an inch.

  His hand dipped back into the cooler, and her chest rose and fell as anticipation unfurled within her. Her hands remained bound, her legs equally confined, yet she still trusted him, knew whatever he had planned would be for her benefit and gratification.

  Ice cube in hand, he drew a slow, lazy circle around her belly button, then slid the frozen icicle down to her bikini panties and traced the line of her waistband, then back up again. Leaning down, he blew a gust of hot breath over the cool wetness on her skin, and she shuddered uncontrollably.

  He placed the cube on her navel, then reached into the insulated chest again. “Be still,” he murmured when she squirmed to dislodge the ice.

  Her eyes widened. Oh, God, he couldn’t be serious, but one look at his determined expression told her he’d
meant what he’d said. As the seconds passed and the ice began to melt and drip down the sides of her stomach, she could feel the wintery chill spread all the way up to the puckered tips of her breasts and radiate lower, too. The prickling sensation was highly erotic, and also drove her mad because he’d ordered her not to move.

  Her eyes rolled back and she moaned fitfully, but didn’t dare writhe as she longed to do. “Dean…it’s too cold.”

  “The ice stays, for now.” He brushed his warm lips along her jaw in compensation and whispered huskily in her ear, “Here, I’ll give you something else to think about instead.”

  Easing his hand between her legs, he pressed two icy fingers against the damp, silky panel of her panties. “You’re very hot here,” he said, his sizzling, uneven breaths scorching her flesh. “Let’s see what we can do about cooling you off.”

  She knew what was coming even before he found his way beneath the elastic band, but being prepared didn’t make his glacial caress any less shocking or intense. She sucked air into her lungs as his cold, cold fingers delved through slick folds, then filled her completely with one sleek, gliding stroke inside her.

  This time, it was Dean who groaned low and harsh as her inner body gripped him tight, then melted and liquified around the invasion of his chilled fingers thrusting into her heated depths. His still-cold thumb joined in on the seductive foray, gliding firmly, rhythmically across her wet, highly aroused flesh.

  A frustrated sob caught in her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut. She felt as though her body was being pulled in a dozen different mindless directions, with so many sensations bombarding her all at once that she couldn’t concentrate on just one feeling. She wanted her hands free to touch him in return, wanted to open her legs wider to accommodate a greater pressure and friction, but her jeans and his thigh prevented that. Her belly quivered as he built the tension within her, higher and higher, making the slowly dissolving ice cube on her stomach tremble precariously as she fought to keep it in place—just to prove she could.