Dash of Peril

by Lori Foster

  He wasn’t the only one to catch the suggestive way she put that. Dash didn’t know what to do. Maybe giving her the pain pill was a bad idea.

  West saved him. “No need. We’re leaving now.” He said to his parents, “Remember we have early dinner plans? Mother, you don’t want to be late.”

  Mr. Peterson folded his arms over his chest and planted his big feet. “You’ll return to work tomorrow?”

  Forgetting her injury, Margo shrugged, froze with discomfort, then lifted her chin in defiance. “Likely. But I’ll decide that later.”

  Surely, Dash thought, the department had restrictions on that sort of thing. Whether her parents realized it, or Margo wanted to admit it, she needed time to recover.

  She and her father had a staring contest, and to Dash’s surprise, Margo won.

  It helped that Mrs. Peterson showed her impatience by going to wait by the door...without saying a word to her daughter.

  Mr. Peterson made an ordeal of checking the thick watch on his thicker wrist. “We have plenty of time but since we’re done here...”

  “Thank you for stopping by,” Margo sang. “So kind. So considerate.”

  Her brother smothered a grin and shuffled everyone out. He was almost off the porch when he turned back and came to the door, again offering Dash his hand. “Thank you.”

  Cold air prickled his bare skin, but Dash stood his ground. “For?”

  “Your care, your assistance—and your discretion.” He winked at his sister, and left.

  CHAPTER SIX

  MARGO STOOD IN the doorway and watched as her meddling family drove away. She even waved—but as soon as they were out of sight she closed the door, locked it and turned to find Dash missing.

  “Coward,” she mumbled to herself. Yes, the pills made her less circumspect. She wasn’t unaware of her own nature; she felt it necessary to be a control freak, an alpha, and aloof.

  But that was for Lieutenant Margaret Peterson.

  Margaret was unyielding and in charge. Margaret was cold and calculating. Margaret ruled with an iron fist.

  Margo, however, enjoyed the contrast of being a smaller, softer woman—with a bigger, harder man.

  Oh, yes—hard. “Dash?” she called, anxious now to see him, touch him and coerce him into returning her touch.

  She heard water running in the kitchen and, smiling in anticipation, followed the sound. Wishing she’d put on the sling, she kept her arm and the heavy splint supported close to her body. “You can run, but you can’t hide your big gorgeous self.” She paused. Okay, sure, that was a rather uncensored comment. But who cared? Without the muscle-loosening pain pills she might have only thought it, not whispered it aloud.

  And to say it about Dash? Logan’s brother. Logan, one of her best detectives.

  Again, who cared?

  Dash was at the sink, Oliver winding in and around his legs, when Margo came in. The muscles in his broad back caused a deep furrow over his spine. His shoulders flexed as he filled a carafe with water.

  She wanted to eat him up. “There you are.”

  “Making coffee.” He glanced at her, did a double take on her expression, dipped his attention over her whole body, then looked away. “Take a seat.”

  Instead she propped a hip against the table and watched the play of muscles in his biceps as he got out coffee mugs. Visually she traced his gorgeous upper body down to his sexy tush. She couldn’t help noticing the remnants of a tan, especially where the low-hanging soft cotton pants exposed a paler strip of flesh at the bottom of his spine.

  One little tug on that drawstring and the casual covering would drop to his ankles. She warmed and her heartbeat accelerated.

  Unfortunately he wore boxers, too. She slightly lifted her left arm, and winced. Still too painful for much use.

  So he’d just have to strip all on his own. She could watch.

  And enjoy.

  “I figured you might want something to eat, too,” Dash said, still not facing her. “Soon as the coffee is done I can—”

  Moving forward, Margo caged him up against the cabinet and leaned into him, her cheek against his warm back and her right arm circling around him, her fingers splayed over his washboard abdomen, toying with that tantalizing trail of hair that went down, down...

  Lord have mercy.

  Dash froze. “Margo—”

  Overwhelmed with need, she lightly bit his shoulder blade, licked his sleek, warm skin and felt him shudder.

  “You shouldn’t—”

  “I can’t resist.” She kissed a path to his spine.

  Very gently Dash turned in her hold. “You have to stop that.”

  “No.” She leaned into him again, brushed her nose against his solid, lightly furred chest. Could a man possibly smell better than Dashiel Riske? Impossible.

  Her nerve endings sparked and a heavy pulse beat of heat settled between her legs. Knowing he didn’t want to hurt her gave her the advantage. “Now, about that kiss...”

  He threaded his fingers into her hair. “You’re loopy again, lady.”

  Nuzzling her nose into his chest hair, she said, “Just a little. But if you’ll recall I wanted you before the pain pill kicked in.”

  “You’re not yourself.”

  “You have no idea who I really am, so how would you know?” No one really knew her. Not her family, certainly not anyone at the station. Only the few one-night stands—

  “Time out.” Frowning, Dash cupped her face, looked deep into her eyes. “What does that mean?”

  Ignoring the discomfort of her elbow, she snuggled into him again. His chest was wide and solid. She gave a low sound of appreciation. “I want to touch you all over.”

  “Shit.” He pressed back farther, put an inch of space between them.

  “All this teasing,” she told him, “just adds to the urgency.”

  He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, looked around the kitchen and asked suddenly, “What’s up with your mom?”

  Because she didn’t want to talk about her parents right now, Margo used her good arm to wave that off. “She was past due for her cocktail, probably. Around five o’clock every day she needs a few drinks to keep it together. The longer she has to wait, the stiffer and colder she gets. Sometimes Dad insists she have a drink just so she won’t crack.” Closing in again, she put her nose to his neck. Ah, God, he smelled so good. She kissed a small path toward his nipple.

  “Enough, Margo.” He clasped her waist and stepped her back a little. “This isn’t happening.”

  Oh, yes, it was. She needed it. “Will you help me with another bath?”

  “No.”

  “Fine. Guess I’ll have to take care of things on my own.” With that threat made, she went down the hall to her bedroom, aware of Dash following along. She opened the closet door, and cringed at the loud creaking of the hinges.

  Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, Dash tracked her every move. “That sounds like a horror movie.”

  “I’ve been busy,” she explained. “I need to hire a handyman.” That spurred her imagination and she turned to Dash. “Wanna play the handyman? You’d look pretty good in a tool belt...and nothing else.”

  He slowly shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

  Something was different about him now. He no longer looked determined to avoid her. In fact, he looked...predatory.

  She breathed a little faster. “Spoilsport,” she said, but a shiver sounded in her tone.

  “I didn’t know you wanted to play.” Eyes narrowed, Dash studied her. He must have liked whatever he saw, because he moved away from the wall. “I think I understand now.”

  Oh, how he said that... “Understand what?”

  His tone changed. “I’ve decided you do need a bath.”<
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  “You decided?”

  His jaw flexed and his gaze bored into hers. He held out a hand. “Come along, Margo.”

  His autocratic manner had her taking one step toward him before she faltered. Sudden nervousness—and excitement—held her in place. “Why the change of heart?”

  He watched her just long enough to get her pulse tripping. “I’ve decided that you’ll be easier to deal with after you’re more relaxed.”

  Easier to deal with? “I thought you were worried about me getting the splint wet.”

  At her continued hesitation, his dark eyes glittered and a slight knowing smile curved his mouth. “You won’t hurt yourself because I’m going to take care of everything.”

  A tsunami of heat rushed through her. “Everything?”

  “Everything you need.”

  “Oh.” She actually backed up a step. Surely he didn’t mean what she hoped he meant. “I’m not sure...”

  His eyes narrowed sensually. “You’re only making this more difficult than it has to be.” He kept his hand outstretched. “Now, come along.”

  Dark, hidden desire sparked into full-blown lust. She swallowed hard and meekly accepted his hand.

  “Good decision,” he praised, still in that firm voice. He gently led her down the hall and into the larger bathroom.

  With every step, her heart beat harder.

  Once inside, he told her, “Wait here while I get the bath ready.”

  That sounded entirely too close to an order, but Margo stood there just the same, watching him, trying to contain her rioting emotions as he filled the tub with warm water, and got out two big towels and a washcloth. He put one towel on the side of the tub, presumably for her to rest her arm.

  When he was satisfied with the arrangements, he turned to her. “Your arm isn’t hurting?”

  She shook her head.

  “Is that a yes or no?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Your head?”

  “It’s fine.” Right now the only ache she had was sexual.

  “I’m glad.” He coasted his fingertips over her jaw, down her throat. “Stand still while I undress you.” Slowly, with his lower body angled close to hers, Dash unbuttoned the flannel shirt. It was like a reverse striptease, and very effective. She tingled all over by the time he got all the buttons undone.

  He opened it to expose her breasts.

  For the longest time he stood there studying her in such minute detail that she almost couldn’t take it. “Dash?” You’d think the man had never seen breasts before, he looked so intent.

  “Shh.” He brushed the flannel shirt over her shoulders and it dropped down to catch on her splint on one side, her elbow on the other. “I’m going to touch you now.”

  Thank God. The anticipation was killing her.

  “I don’t want you to move. Do you understand me, honey?”

  She didn’t, not really.

  “Tell me you understand.”

  If that’s what it took to get his hands on her... “I understand.”

  “Good.” He cupped both breasts, lifting as if to measure their weight while letting his thumbs brush just under her nipples.

  Margo locked her knees and tried not to gasp as her nipples stiffened.

  With a dark look of satisfaction, Dash caught each nipple with his fingertips and lightly tugged. “You like that?”

  “Yes.” Her lips parted, her eyes grew heavy—and she leaned toward him.

  “Ah, no, honey. Remember? You’re to stand still.” He pressed her nipples a little more tightly until she froze with a gasp. He searched her face with no discernible emotion. “Does that hurt?”

  It felt too wonderful to bear. “No.”

  “Feel good?”

  She managed a nod.

  “I’m glad.” He did a little more tugging. “You’ll be still now.” He waited, and when she didn’t move, he smiled. “That’s better. Now let’s try this again.” He went back to teasing, brushing the very tips, rolling, toying with her.

  On a soft groan she closed her eyes.

  He paused. “Your arm is okay?”

  “Yes, yes.” She nodded hard. “Absolutely fine. Just don’t stop.”

  “Please.”

  It took her three breaths, and she said, “What?”

  Very gently, he told her, “You forgot to say please.”

  He looked so serious, watching her as he added more pressure to her nipples again. She licked her lips and whispered, “Please.”

  He didn’t smile, but she saw the pleasure in his dark eyes. “That one word sounds so pretty coming from you.” He bent his head. “Let me see if you taste as good as you look.”

  That was all the warning she got before he closed his mouth around her right nipple and started gently sucking.

  “Ah, God...Dash...”

  “What?” He moved to the other nipple, nipped with his teeth, tugged, then sucked her in. She felt the rasp of his velvet tongue, the heat of his moist mouth, and as he sucked the sensation went straight through to her womb.

  Urgency mounting, Margo reached for the waistband of his pants...and Dash caught her wandering hand, then moved out of her reach.

  While he seemed to contemplate some decision, his thumb coasted over the pulse throbbing in her wrist. “Maybe sitting in the tub will make it easier for you to stay still.” He knelt in front of her, coasted his hands over the backs of her thighs, then her bottom, before hooking his fingers in the waistband of her yoga pants. He stripped them down her legs. “Step out.”

  The steamy tub kept the bathroom warm, but still her wet nipples puckered at the touch of air...and the touch of command in Dash’s tone.

  She stepped out.

  Staying on his knees, he eyed her lacy panties. “Such a contrast.” Using one finger, he traced tantalizing circles around the front of her underwear, dipping every so often to a spot that turned her knees to butter.

  Margo was busy contemplating ways they’d be able to have sex with the clunky splint in the way when Dash said, his voice low and gravelly and sexy as hell, “I’m going to make you come.”

  She wanted to say, When? Instead she held her breath.

  “Twice,” he added. “That ought to help take the edge off so you can settle down and rest.”

  Oh, definitely. That’d be a big help.

  He eased her panties down to her knees and touched her again, oh, so gently, using only one finger. “But we’re not going to have sex.”

  Wait a minute...

  He brushed her panties down the rest of the way. “To ensure you don’t make your injuries worse,” he continued, helping her to lift first one foot and then the other, “you’re going to do exactly as I say, exactly when I say it.”

  “But—”

  Standing again, his body only a breath from hers, he cupped a hand over her sex and stared down into her eyes. “If you don’t,” he warned with enticing gravity, “I’ll stop and instead of being satisfied, you’ll have to sleep with your frustration.”

  She couldn’t get enough air into her starved lungs. It was almost as if Dash knew her secret fantasies— fantasies she’d never shared with anyone, that no other man had ever picked up on, and had definitely never enacted.

  But she believed him when he said he would satisfy her.

  The drugs stole her edge, but she wasn’t completely without reason. When the sex games ended, Dash would need to know that they were only games—and they had a time and a place that could never infiltrate her real life.

  Later she would explain it to him. Right now, she desperately wanted to see how things played out.

  Her entire body warm and pulsing with need, she stared up at him, nodded and whispered ever so quietly, “Thank you.”

>   * * *

  MARGO LOOKED SO SWEET and so fucking ready, it took all of Dash’s resolve to stick to the plan. She might not realize it, but he recognized her desire on a very basic level. He understood her, appreciated her sexuality.

  She was a woman through and through.

  Tough when she needed to be, strong always and incredibly intelligent. More than equal to a man in every way that counted.

  But sometimes a woman enjoyed the innate contrasts of being smaller, gentler and physically weaker than a man. It worked for him because on occasion he enjoyed playing the dominant role.

  With Margo, he liked it a lot.

  His goal was twofold. First, he wanted to help her relax and deal with the discomfort of her injuries. Arousal blunted many things, including aches and pains. A mind-numbing orgasm could also relieve her of worries, of the many problems ahead.

  Secondly, but just as important, he wanted to show her that she could be herself with him. That sexual need didn’t detract from her strong personality and capability. Taking a more submissive role in bed—with him—wouldn’t carry over into her everyday life out of bed.

  Stepping back from the temptation of her nudity, her silky hair and fragrant skin, and especially her helpless anticipation, he studied her body while rubbing his mouth. She trembled with need; he couldn’t leave her like that. She would rest better after getting off.

  After he got her off.

  But he also couldn’t forget, not for a minute, that she was hurt. And that meant he’d just have to do without, torturous as it would be, until she was better able to reciprocate.

  “You really are so fucking hot.” He was going to love touching her, hearing her moan, feeling her come with his fingers pressed deep. Knowing how it would affect her, he said, “Let’s get you in the tub so I can get started.”

  He held her right arm to keep her from slipping, then arranged her to his liking.

  Breath held, she let him.

  “Rest your left arm on the ledge.” He helped her, ensuring she didn’t get the splint wet. “Is that comfortable?”

  She drew a breath. “Yes.”