He obviously noticed. “Let’s get out of here.”
“It’s fine. It’s quiet. Beats loud music and gyrating hook-up artists in a typical bar.”
“I guess the count counted on sharp teeth rather than bad dancing for his pickups?”
“And he got picked up instead.”
She sipped again, relaxing into the chair and into the lousy wine, and looked at him, studying him through half-lowered lashes. He hadn’t moved the other chair back into position, and she had to give thanks to the pick-up guy in the old suit.
God, he was nice to look at. Derek Monahan was the most impressive man she’d ever seen. He was sexy as sin any day, but when he went into protector mode and started lifting grown vampires right out of their seats, he was awe-inspiring.
Something about the low, throbbing music, the red lighting and décor, and the exciting, protective man sitting across from her chased every other thought from her head. Yes, she wanted to know what he’d learned from the bartender. Another part of her, though, wanted to close the curtain on their booth and get lost in a private world of their own. She wanted another kiss like the one they’d shared Sunday night—all hot, sweaty, and intense. Then she wanted one like Monday’s—sultry, slow, and sweet.
Then a thousand more.
Derek watched her closely. Not taking his eyes off her, not saying a word, he reached to the side and pulled the crimson drape closed again. They were left alone in a sea of satin and intimacy. She suspected his reasons for wanting privacy involved only his conversation with the bartender, and he didn’t want to be overheard. Hers were…more complicated.
She’d been focused on her missing brother for so many months that her attraction to the paranormal investigator had blindsided her. Left her reeling. Then, his sudden coolness the other night had made her angry and tense.
Now, all of that eased away. She was relaxed, aware of herself as a woman, and knew what she wanted. Maybe it was the shitty wine, or the red drape. Something had brought out Kate’s most feminine, sensual side. As she looked at Derek’s handsome face, she couldn’t help thinking about how much she wanted to seduce him. Soon. Not after the case was over.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, his voice little more than a heavy whisper as he lifted his glass to his lips.
“Seducing you.”
He slowly lowered his beer. “Excuse me?”
She shrugged. “I’m just being honest. I’ve been thinking about it since you kissed me Sunday night.”
“I believe you instigated that.”
“I distinctly remember you bending down to kiss me.”
“After you flashed those eyes and pursed those lips in an invitation invented by Eve.”
“You know she gets a really bad rap.”
“Evil women tempting poor, helpless men.”
She sighed slowly. Nothing about the man opposite her was helpless. Eve herself would have ignored the snake and the apple if Derek had been her partner in that garden.
“Admit it, you wanted me to kiss you.”
Her strange mood made her blunt. “Yes, I did. It was a pretty intense night.”
“Yeah, it was.” He drank. Wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. Continued. “I guess I can’t deny I wanted it, too.”
Her fingers trembled. A tiny bit of red wine sloshed out of the glass, hitting the white tablecloth, staining like drops of blood. She didn’t imagine the staff would mind much.
“There’s no denying you were the one who kissed me Monday at your office.”
“I wouldn’t even try.”
“The Mr. Cool act afterward was because you were mad at yourself for breaking your no-clients rule.”
“Right.”
She rubbed the tip of her finger around the top rim of her wineglass, creating a low hum that matched the one in her body. “What about after this case is over?”
His eyes gleamed. “That changes things.”
Mm. Good to know.
“But fair warning, Doc. I don’t do relationships.”
She didn’t have to be a psychiatrist to know that. Anyone with an ounce of intelligence would know it after spending a few hours with him. He wore his unavailable vibe like a…well, like a vampire’s cape. Still, he was also incredibly sexual, she had seen that right away. It was why she’d been so tense around him the moment they met—because he emitted the kind of energy that put every red-blooded woman on alert. She didn’t imagine many of them were put off by his indifference, not least of all because he made for an irresistible challenge.
“I suspect few women are happy about that.”
“I’m too screwed-up for most women to handle.”
Most. Not all. She knew what he could do, she’d seen it firsthand. If anything, his dark gift only made him that much more fascinating.
Given what he did, and what he saw, though, his reluctance to get involved with anyone made sense. She had to wonder how much of that strong, sexual energy was put to good use.
“So, no relationships. No clients. I assume you don’t come to places like this and rely on costumed meet-ups with Elvira, Mistress of the Dark?”
“Definitely not.”
“I can’t imagine you ever needing to pay for sex.”
He jerked as if she’d slapped him.
“Or using an online let’s-bang app.”
He merely grunted.
“Does that leave gyrating fuck-boy on the dance floor looking for a hookup?”
His eyes gleamed reddish as they narrowed, and his mouth tightened. “Did you just call me a fuck-boy? Worse, a gyrating one?”
Hearing the steely tone, she made herself go on. “I certainly don’t take you for celibate.”
“I’m no boy, either.”
“I’m not trying to insult you. You’re obviously a man. A very…potent one. I have to wonder how you direct all that energy, given your rules and regulations.”
“And you suspect I do it through hook-ups and one-night-stands?”
Knowing she’d offended him, she regretted her words. Maybe some residual irritation from Monday night was egging her on. Probably it was.
Before she could say that, he continued. “Is that what you want?” His tone was smooth, tinged with something that might be anger. “A one-night-stand to get it out of our systems? Do you think that would be enough for you? For either of us?”
Damn, she could not figure this man out. Was that an invitation? Or a warning? “I don’t know.” Having come this far, she had to admit the rest. “I haven’t been with a man in a long time—since before I went overseas. For the first time since then, and since my brother’s disappearance, I want to. I’m not sure I want to play by your rules and wait.”
She sipped her wine. He stared.
“You’re saying we should break the rules?”
“They’re your rules, not mine, so I suppose you’re the one who’d have to break them.” Another stroke of her fingertip on the glass. Another hum, soft and somehow erotic. “I wonder if I could tempt you to do it.”
It was warm in the bar, but she couldn’t tell if it was the curtain or the draped lamps that made his face appear to redden.
Bullshit. She knew. Her directness had surprised him, as it often did men. Kate just didn’t know any other way to be. She sensed Derek was man enough to handle a woman who could never play coy. Besides, it was only the truth. She did want him. She’d always been cautious in relationships in the past, knowing everything about a person she chose to go to bed with. In her line of work, hearing people talk about instincts they couldn’t ignore, compulsions that ruled them, and risks they took, it didn’t make sense to do anything else.
Derek was different. Having no clue about his relationship history, his address, or his criminal record didn’t matter when it came to this man. She’d learned so much about him that night in the swamp, when he’d made it clear he would do whatever was necessary to get to the bottom of the mystery at Fenton Academy…as long as that didn�
�t include letting her get hurt. The honorable role was a part of him, despite his brusque outward demeanor and attitude. He had a warrior’s spirit and a noble heart.
Kate had known strong men in the past. She’d worked with them overseas—the determined, heroic ones who really cared. They were a rare and special breed. This one, she’d already realized, was so rare, and so special, he appealed to her on a level none of those others ever had.
The silence continued. He looked determined. He also looked the slightest bit unsure.
“You could tempt me, Kate,” he finally said. “But you’re not the once-up-against-the-wall-in-a-back-hallway type.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Is that where it usually happens?”
“You really think I know? You really do think I’m that man?”
Maybe when she’d first met him. The bad-boy attitude, the sneer, the long hair, the chain on his hip, the heavy boots, the motorcycle—they were all associated with a certain type of guy. Now, though, she knew him, and realized how wrong her first impressions had been.
Hero. He’s a hero.
“No, I really don’t,” she admitted. “I was being bitchy and making assumptions. I guess I haven’t entirely forgiven you for Monday night.”
“Again, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you. But you are the one who wore that dress and showed up with food.”
“Touché.” He hadn’t, however, answered the real question. “Does that leave celibacy?”
He rolled his eyes. “Jesus, you are a pain in the ass. Are you always so nosy?”
“Are you always so evasive?”
“I like to fuck, okay?” he snapped, his voice possibly loud enough to be heard outside their curtained corner. Loud enough to make her flinch as electricity sparked through her veins.
Kate knew he could be coarse, but he hadn’t talked like that to her before. She liked it. Judging by the lazy heat pooling low in her body, making her shift in her seat, she liked it a lot.
He lowered his voice to add, “Yes, I’ve thought about being with you since we met. This conversation is wrecking me, and doing you up against a back-room wall sounds like the best idea I’ve heard all year. This place makes me want to take you, explore you, bite you.”
Kate quivered, her feminine instincts responding to that raw, masculine note in his voice. She’d been romanced. Courted, even, in the wealthy social circle in which her family moved.
She’d never been he-manned. Jesus, she’d never dreamed it could be so appealing.
“Let me repeat myself, though. I don’t make a habit of getting involved with clients. Especially not clients with missing family members they’re desperate to find.”
She stiffened. “You think I’m reacting out of grief? That I don’t know my own mind?”
“I’m saying I don’t know mine,” he snapped. “I can’t figure out why you’re so damn distracting, why I get so irritated when you get so reasonable, why I kiss you when you’re covered with mud.” He shook his head, his tone gentling. “You’re the expert. Tell me, why do I feel the need to call you every damn day? Why did I let you come into this place for an update on your case when I’d never do that with any other client?” Then, with a helpless, confused shrug: “Why I dream about you, Kate?”
Oh dear lord. His voice was filled with surety combined with almost angry confusion. His admission that he thought about her, that she got under his skin, didn’t reach into her clinical psychiatrist’s mind for an explanation. How could you explain chemistry? Attraction? How could the innate draw between two people ever be reasoned out or rationalized? Longing came from other places than the mind. She wasn’t a good enough doctor to try to explain where or why, she only knew she felt it too.
“You mess with my head, too,” he added. “I don’t like having my head messed with. Frankly, it’s hard enough to keep it neat and organized as it is.”
“I’m sorry, Derek. Believe me, I’m not a game-player.”
Any woman foolish enough to play games with him was taking a risk. This wasn’t a typical man with nothing more to think about than a nine-to-five job, relationships, and easy, uncomplicated sex—if there were such a thing. Derek was a well of swirling memory and loss, tragedy and violence. He’d seen more death than the most battle-scarred soldier, yet remained the kind of man who swept a woman off her feet, and could occasionally still make a bad joke.
What did it take, she wondered, to keep that part of himself—the normal, average guy part? How hard did he have to fight to keep the other one—the haunted, tormented one—from taking over? And how was this confusing attraction between them contributing to both of those internal battles?
His rules were for his own protection, as well as for hers, she suddenly realized. He needed them, relied on them. And here she was trying to mess that up for him.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” she admitted, trying to shake off her own sensual mood, not very successfully. Still, she forced a small laugh. “You’re a lot stronger than I am. You’ve made up your mind, and I had no business trying to change it.”
He said nothing, merely staring at her. She squared her shoulders and stared at him, too.
That was when she realized something had changed. Rather than easing the tension between them, it had shot up. Her heartbeats were audible, hot blood rushed through her veins, and she saw his pulse throbbing in his neck.
She had been trying to bring them back. For some reason, though, her words seemed to have dragged them toward this precipice they’d been skirting since the day they met.
From outside, the low murmur of voices, the tinkle of glass, and that strange music faded into the distance, retreating and leaving them in a world of hot breaths, heated bodies, and red.
It was apparently too much. He gave up.
“Screw this.”
She had just enough time to breathe as he reached for her and lifted her by the waist. Effortlessly twisting her around, he sat her on his lap.
“Oh, God, Derek,” Kate gasped when she realized what their conversation had done to him. Feeling his hard, powerful erection straining against the crotch of his jeans, she crumbled as everything inside her went soft and wet.
“You are way more tempting than Eve,” he growled.
He cupped her head, his fingers twisting hard in her hair. His other hand was high on her thigh, strong and masculine. It made a declaration and a claim. In the scant seconds it took for him to catch her mouth in a kiss, she was on fire and ready to explode.
Wet, deep, hungry and devouring. That was how Derek kissed her. That was how she kissed him back.
Kate lifted her hands and dug into his hair. Tilting her head, wanting an even deeper possession, she met every hungry thrust of his tongue.
This wasn’t sweaty and adrenaline-driven. It wasn’t slow and sweet.
It was hot. Wicked. Not a kiss you exchange and then walk away from. This was the kind intended for tangled sheets, slick skin, and the deepest, most intimate connection two people could share. This was a kiss for sex.
Time and place faded away. Nothing else existed except his mouth, his tongue, his hands, and his hard body. As they shared hot breaths and wild bites and licks, all her most erotic nerve endings awoke from a long slumber. She was reacting to the taste of pure, utter male.
Pulling his lips away from hers, he scraped them against her jaw, whispering, “You make me insane, Doc.”
The hand on her thigh slid up, tugging her dress with it, just as his mouth moved down her neck. She was torn in two directions, unable to concentrate fully on one before he did something wickedly delicious to the other.
He breathed on her nape, scraping his teeth across her skin. When he’d gotten her dress high enough to suit his purpose, his hand moved between her bare thighs. The touch sent her reeling and flying, even while the core of her begged him to sink in and bring her back to solid, perfect reality.
“Oh, God,” she groaned, arching toward his mouth, twisting toward his hand.
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He bit her neck, but not too hard, just enough to make her groan. The groan turned into a guttural cry when his warm fingertips slipped under the elastic of her underwear.
“Kate,” he muttered against her neck as he explored her. When he dipped his fingers between the wet folds of her sex, she gasped. She was quivering, desperate with need for more.
His thumb found her throbbing, swollen clit, swirled and stroked it. Kate opened her mouth to cry out. He caught her before she could do it, kissing away her cries. Their tongues entwined, dancing a deep, delicious tango. She felt possessed by the kiss, by the power of his hand holding her head in place. And by those fingers that continued to work magic, gliding up inside her, making her tremble, as he palmed her right where she needed the pressure most.
Not a half-minute later, Kate closed her eyes and came fast and hard. Gasping, she shuddered and quaked, feeling incapable of staying upright. He held on, kissing her through it, not moving his hand until she had stopped shaking. When she had, he gentled the kiss, moving to the corner of her mouth, and tasting his way to her chin.
“Christ you’re beautiful,” he said. He stroked the curls covering her sex, and then shifted her underpants back where they belonged. “I want to watch you do that a hundred times.”
“I think you could, right here and now,” she whispered once she felt capable of speech.
Nothing like that had ever happened to her. Not ever. She liked sex, she’d had it with some men. She’d had orgasms, certainly. But not like that. Not while sitting on a fully-dressed man’s lap, letting him finger her into oblivion.
In a public place.
Kate gasped, jerking her head to look at the curtain behind Derek’s back. It was waving gently, whether moved by their harsh breaths, or because she’d been thrusting in utter lust a few moments ago, she didn’t know.
“Did that really just happen?” she asked, looking up at him, a little stunned.
He pulled her dress down and dropped one last, light kiss on her mouth. “Yeah. It definitely did.”
She didn’t know how to respond. What had felt so utterly natural—so right—a couple of minutes ago, now seemed surreal, like the experience belonged to someone else. Dr. Kate Lincoln was not the type to crawl onto a hot man’s lap and let him pleasure her a few feet away from tables filled with strangers. Dr. Kate Lincoln was reserved, professional, and dispassionate. She was not a woman who indulged herself when and wherever she needed it.
Cold Image (Extrasensory Agents Book 4) Page 18
