Wicked Firsts

by Naughton, Elisabeth

  “First of all, you’ve got to get out of the habit of pushing me away. Second of all, you’ve got to know they’re still out there watching us…probably hoping I’m going to do you right here, right now.”

  Brooks tipped her head back and closed her eyes. Her chest rose and fell in quick breaths. “Oh Christ.”

  He tightened the arm across her lower back, fitting his erection into the supple muscle of her lower belly, and tilted his head to taste her throat.

  “Hoping they can watch,” he murmured, closing his teeth around her soft skin. “And pretend they’re me. “ He loved the way her fingers curled into the shoulders of his shirt. “Pretend they’re getting to do you. If you want them to spread the word to Picasso when he comes around, let go of your resistance, beautiful.”

  He turned, lifted her by the waist, and pressed her back to the wall. She automatically spread her legs, wrapping them at his hips and Taft sank toward her until she was compressed between the wall and his body.

  “God, you feel good,” he murmured against her lips. “You almost make me forget I want to know why you wigged halfway through that little scheme.”

  “I didn’t wig.” Her hands pressed to his shoulders as if she were considering pushing him away, but her thighs gripped his hips tight, her feet pressed hard at the small of his back, pulling him in. “I thought I handled it really well.”

  “Handled what?”

  He lifted the hand fitted with vibrators to the hem of her blouse and slipped it underneath, touching her waist. She jumped, her hips pumping against his, her breasts brushing his chest. Lust spurted through his groin and whited out his brain. He groaned, gripped her ass with his free hand, and rubbed against her for counter pressure to the sudden surge of need.

  “Whoa, baby. You just blew a few circuits.”

  He slid his fingers across the skin of her belly, and she rocked her hips against his on a soft breath.

  “Brooks…” he warned. “Do that again and your pants are coming off.”

  “Then stop touching me,” she said. “I’m not a robot, Walker. And I’d have to be made of titanium not to want you.”

  His heart thumped hard. He pulled back and looked down into her dazed eyes, sparkling in the dark. Remembered the feel of her mouth on his. He gripped her thighs and lifted them higher, pushed them wider, and leaned into her harder. And he moved, simulating what he’d like to do inside her.

  Her lips parted on an intake of air; her eyes rolled back and her lids fell closed as she arched against the wall with a sound that punched blood between his legs.

  He pressed soft kisses to her lips, whispered, “Want to do something about it, Brooks?”

  “Of…course. I’m…human. But I also have impulse control. And I…don’t do the guys I work with.”

  He took a second to run that through his mind a few times, then pulled back and looked her in the eye. “Seriously?”

  “Dead serious.”

  Nope. Still wasn’t penetrating his brain matter. “Like…ever?”

  “Like…ever.”

  Her answer was so final. So logical. She couldn’t be any clearer. He couldn’t continue to question it.

  “Shit, I didn’t see that one coming.” He pulled her away from the wall and carried her toward the back. “Then let’s get off stage so I can put air between us.”

  At the back of the store in the storage room, Taft lowered her to her feet, closed the door, and turned on the light. Brooks already had her hand over her eyes in preparation.

  Taft turned away, adjusted his erection, and wiped a hand over his face. He tried to force his mind back to the case. To Cantos and Vasquez. To the bills at home he had to pay. Anything to steer his body away from the need to get between those long legs.

  She didn’t do the guys she worked with.

  He got that. Totally. Once those guys at Border Patrol got a look at the woman beneath her uniform, the only smuggling they’d have been interested in would have involved their peckers.

  “What happened midway through that little impromptu meeting, Brooks?” he asked.

  “I realized who Cesar was.”

  Her voice was uncharacteristically weak, making Taft turn. She had her forehead between her fingers, and her rubbing had removed some of the makeup hiding the scrapes there.

  “What do you mean?” Taft asked. “Rio gave you the same file he gave me at breakfast—”

  “I slept today, okay?” She threw her arm out to the side and opened her eyes, their green irises stabbing at him. “This morning when I saw you, I hadn’t been to sleep in nearly thirty hours. I should have looked at the file, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open. So when I invited him into the store, I didn’t realize he was that Cesar. I mean, I knew a guy named Cesar worked at the store, and I know the name of the target, Ernesto. But I didn’t know it was Cesar Cantos. I was just getting close, making friends, hoping to…I don’t know…chat him up.”

  Taft was cooling down—at least sexually. He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “There’s definitely something else. You’re not the type to freak at the simple meeting of a bad guy.”

  She chewed on her lower lip, which, for some annoying reason, made him insane.

  “Stop that.” He gestured toward her mouth. When she frowned at him, he snapped, “What else?”

  “Taft,” she pleaded, those beautiful eyes big and warm. ”I don’t want to lose this assignment—”

  “Whoa.” He stepped back. “Now I’m Taft? Don’t think using my first name is going to soften me.”

  “I’m not. I’m just trying to talk to you like…a person, for God’s sake.” She rubbed both hands over her face, then looked up again. “Most of the drugs my team and I take are slated for distribution through Cantos. Just last night, we grabbed a group of seven. During processing, we learned the drugs were coming to Cantos. Cocaine. Pure. With a street value of between three and ten million, depending on the cut here.”

  He waited. Stared her down. Knew the other shoe was still hanging out there waiting to drop.

  “One of the guys I took down last night said something that, at the time, I didn’t think much of but now… It’s a long story, but the part that matters here is when he had me trapped beneath him, the gun right here…” She positioned her left hand near her forehead, her gaze distant in memories. Taft knew all about the intensity and danger of her job. Had worked the border with other agents on operations. Had heard all the stories. But hearing about her being involved…like this…created an unfamiliar discomfort in his chest.

  “On my headset, I heard the chopper guiding my team up behind him. To stall, I asked if he realized what would happen to him if he killed a Border Patrol agent.”

  Taft’s chest knotted. His hands fisted. He didn’t understand why he wanted to pound one of them through the nearest wall. She was as tough as any male agent he’d partnered with. Their stories never bothered him. At least not like this.

  Had to be her eyes. She was still traumatized. Taft could see it in her eyes.

  “And he said—in English—‘If I kill this Border Patrol Agent, then we won’t have to worry about perra blanca no more.’ Like they’d named me.”

  Taft realized the significance immediately. “El Diablo has a hit out on you?”

  “I…I don’t…” She shook her head.

  His mind darted back to her uniform that morning. “Do you wear anything to cover your name tag? The paperwork you submit, do you sign it? Do they get a copy of it? Does it give your name as the arresting officer? How did you introduce yourself to Cantos tonight? Fuck, Brooks…”

  “Taf—Walker, Relax.” She held her hands out like she was trying to calm down an irrational subject. “Slow down. I’m just…thinking out loud. I’m bouncing thoughts off you. I need you to be able to field them…work with me here.”

  Dammit, now he was acting like the girl.

  Taft wiped a hand over his mouth and focused. Shut down these sudden and bizarre emotions.

&n
bsp; “No, Brooks,” he said. “What you’re doing is finally putting everything together. Your subconscious has been processing all this for hours. If you’re going to work in undercover, you need to learn to pay attention to these cues, like you’re doing now, and trust your gut. And my gut’s telling me I’ve got to call Cordova.”

  Taft swung around looking for his phone and realized they were in the storeroom.

  “Taft, wait—”

  He ignored her. He wasn’t in any frame of mind to resist those pleading green eyes. His hand covered the doorknob. Hers pushed between his arms and his body and slapped the wood, holding the door closed.

  “Brooks—”

  “Taft, please, wait.”

  She pressed her face into the indention of his spine. The gesture was so… God, he didn’t even know. Sweet? He squeezed the handle tighter and closed his eyes. Then her hot breath penetrated his shirt and spread over his skin. Taft clenched his teeth.

  She turned her head and pressed her cheek to his back. “I want to get off the line.” Her voice was steady and serious. She didn’t whine or plead. “I’ve had a transfer in for six months. This is the first chance I’ve had in investigations.”

  Anger fired off sparks in his blood. He swiveled and gripped her arms, bent until his face was an inch from hers. “So you want me to let them kill you here instead of out there? Is that it?”

  “No. I—” Her voice came out high, filled with emotion. Hurt flashed in her eyes, raw and bright. Then she yanked herself back with a sharp breath. All the heat and life in her gaze grayed out, and she closed off. It took her a couple of tries to speak, but when she did, she’d found a familiar level and warm voice.

  “I don’t plan on dying, Walker. Here or out there.” She pulled out of his grasp with steady pressure. Reached around him and opened the storeroom door. “And I don’t plan on letting you die either. Our safety comes first.”

  She passed him and picked up her cell from the counter. Pushing one button, she picked up a pencil, walked to the wall between the two stores, and drew a circle. “Agent Cord—” She paused. “Right, Rio. Sorry to call so late. Could we meet tomorrow? The three of us, before the store opens? Something’s come up that’s concerning Walker. No, we’re getting along fine.” She glanced at him, her gaze flat. Which irked him, because his guts were in turmoil. “No, it can wait. Sure, that’s fine. Good night.”

  She slid the phone into her pocket, reached below the counter, and pulled out the smallest purse Taft had ever seen and an armful of books.

  “Where are you going?” he asked. “And what is all that?”

  “I’m going home, and these are catalogues on the plethora of sexual aids here. I’ll be the second-best-versed aficionado in the county by seven a.m.” She pointed to the circle on the wall. “Put the camera right there.”

  When she passed by him, Taft muttered, “Bossy,” just to see if he could get a reaction he could act on. He wanted to touch her again.

  But she ignored him and sauntered toward the front door.

  “You sure don’t walk like that in your uniform,” he taunted.

  “It’s the heels,” she said, with the same cool inflection she’d used that morning when she’d told him to get his own table while she finished her conversation with Rio.

  And he realized then what was gnawing at him. She’d confided in him in that storeroom. Told him something that she hadn’t told anyone else. Something that scared her. She’d been vulnerable. Completely open. She’d asked him, begged him, for something important to her.

  And he’d shut her down. Just like that, he’d blown a perfect opportunity to break through her shell. To get her to bend that I-don’t-do-guys-I-work-with rule.

  Because that hadn’t been all she’d been offering.

  She’d been offering…friendship. Intimacy.

  And he didn’t do either. He just wanted to have sex with her.

  “We’re meeting with Rio at the Sunrise Café. You know where that is?”

  She pushed the store’s front door open, and Taft followed. “Yeah, I’ll pick you up—”

  She stopped short on a gasp, and he collided with her.

  “Oh, Cesar,” she breathed. “You scared me. Do you always work this late?”

  Taft stepped up next to Brooks and slid his arm around her waist.

  “Si, senorita. I’m a night owl.”

  “Me too.”

  Cesar stood at a planter nearby, one foot up on the ledge, a half-smoked cigarette in his hand. “Are you lovebirds headed out? You left the light on. Electricity is expensive, amigos.”

  Brooks gestured with her catalogues. “I’m headed home to study.” She leaned back and into Taft. Smiled over her shoulder at him. “And warm up the bed.”

  That idea appealed way too much. Her rule was looking like it would hold fortuitous benefits for Taft.

  “I’m walking her to the car,” Taft said. “I’ll be back to lock up.”

  “Si, amigo.” Cantos blew out smoke, and it floated on the cool night air, obscuring the man’s dark face. “A good woman is worth protecting.”

  Taft didn’t know whether to take that as a veiled threat or not, but he wouldn’t wait until it was too late to find out.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ZOE TOOK THE PATH FROM HER TOWNHOUSE toward Walker’s truck where he’d parked at the curb. The silver four-wheel-drive Ford F-150 crew cab was classically kept. Sleek. Masculine without screaming, I have a dick and I like to use it. Walker was a confident man. Though Brooks already knew that.

  But not so arrogant that he didn’t recognize when a threat reached beyond his control. And there was something…touching…about how unnerved he’d been over her identity becoming known to Cantos.

  Taft met her at the passenger’s door with a tired half grin and a hot glance down her body. She’d dressed more casually today in a gauzy sheer white blouse that hinted at the extra-lacy pushup bra she wore beneath and clung high on her waist. With her low-riding jean capris, a two-inch strip of her belly teased the eye. And because she worked hard on her abs, she added a rhinestone belt, to help gazes drift that direction. Her feet were killing her from wearing heels the night before, so she’d slipped on barely there sandals with rhinestones matching her belt.

  But the way Taft looked at her, she could have been wearing nothing.

  “Hope you got more sleep than I did,” he said.

  “I doubt it.” When his eyes met hers, she smiled and softened her voice to help make this next part go down a little smoother. “I appreciate your concern for my safety. I really do. But, Walker, if you decide to put a unit on my house again, please tell me about it.”

  “I was tired. I wasn’t up for another argument. And before you ask, yes, I

  would have put one on Rio. And what’s more, Rio wouldn’t have argued.”

  “That’s all you had to say. All I want is to be treated the same as you’d treat every other guy you’d work with.”

  His gaze searched hers, and she had to fight to keep her eyes from straying to his hair, still wet from the shower, to his jaw, freshly shaven.

  “If that were the case,” he said, “we wouldn’t be working together. You’re on this case because you’re not a guy, Brooks. You’re on this case because you’re a good cop and you happen to be a freaking hot babe too.”

  That made Zoe laugh. The color of his eyes seemed to lighten. The tension in his face eased. He liked making her laugh. And she liked that about him.

  He shifted his stance, moving in and leaning close, using the passenger door as support. He smelled shower-fresh and spicy. Zoe thought about sliding her hands over him in a shower. Tasting him under the hot spray. Feeling the cold, hard tile against her back as he filled her.

  “What you need to realize,” he said, his voice low and serious, “is that everyone has strengths and weaknesses. Those become powerful forces in undercover work. They become your signature. You become known for what you’re good at, and you leverage those stre
ngths to catch the bad guys.

  “You’re obviously known by smugglers as a hard-core bitch, because your tenacity and dedication is crippling Cantos’s business.” He took her jaw gently with his hand and lifted her eyes to his. “But there’s a lot more to you. And you need to use it all—your strength, your smarts, your sexiness, your softness, your sweetness, your independence—it’s all good here. Nothing is a drawback, Zoe.”

  Oh. The way he used her name almost took her legs out from under her. How could she want to lean in to him and kiss him until she couldn’t breathe when she’d only known him twenty-four hours?

  His eyes were serious, intent. Rich and glowing in a way that seemed to reach all the way into her heart and squeeze.

  “I’m going to treat you like I would any average woman when others are around. But don’t think for one minute I don’t realize just how different you are. Or that I don’t know just how powerful you could be if you let yourself.”

  A steel band had tightened around Zoe’s chest. Her lungs ached with every breath. The bridge of her nose tingled with the threat of tears. In one day, he’d seen straight into her soul and pinpointed her deepest identity. An identity she hadn’t even fully embraced yet.

  If he only knew how easily he could have her right now… any way he wanted.

  He lowered his lips for a chaste, quick kiss and slapped her butt. “Now, get your sweet little ass in the truck. We’re going to be late.”

  He turned for the driver’s side. Didn’t help her in. Didn’t wait to close her door. Didn’t turn when he said, “And take your hair down. I like it better down.”

  Zoe laughed. The surge of emotion pushed tears closer to the surface, and she blinked fast before they formed in her eyes.

  “I might have found the perfect man,” she muttered, sliding into the plush leather captain’s chair. And specifically because he wanted her to take her hair out of the fashionably messy twist, she left it up.

  Walker pulled onto the street. “What’s going on in that mind, precious?”

  She turned her head toward him, took him in, inch by inch, dark hair, rugged good looks, deep red button-down, blue jeans worn light in all those sexy places. “I’m thinking red is a really great color on you.” She refocused out the side window and murmured, “And I’m trying to remember why I don’t do guys I work with.”