Desired by a Dangerous Man

by Cleo Peitsche

  “That’s an excellent suggestion,” he said, which didn’t make sense. I didn’t care; I was just happy to be near him.

  He’d already shaved a third of his face, and the sink was full of dark flecks. I watched in fascination as he navigated the area around his Adam’s apple. His strokes were quick, certain.

  “Well, landlord, what’s your plan now that you’re the owner of a condemned building?”

  “I don’t own it yet, but the county agreed that their assessment might have been in haste. I’ve got an architectural firm taking a look as we speak. They know I want to move fast, and they’ll handle the details.”

  “If the county backed off, I should call the office. Rob needs to know.” The employees would be happy to leave, too. I wondered if any of them had quit already.

  “I’m sure he’s been updated by now. Relax.”

  He rinsed off the razor, finished shaving, then wiped the last of the cream off his face. Now that he was done, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed—there weren’t many opportunities for me to stare shamelessly at him.

  He leaned on the counter. “We need to talk about Massimo.”

  My heart thudded. “He’s still ok, right?”

  “My acquaintances have him, thanks to your photos. And no one’s life was disrupted. Massimo helped himself to one of their cars. They didn’t know he was wanted, and they cooperated fully. He’d insisted on an expensive car, not knowing that it had a geolocation tracker. If not for that, we’d still be looking. As it was, we were basically racing the mercenaries. It was close.”

  Corbin didn’t need to say that it hadn’t been easy; I could see it in his face.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “However, we have another problem.” He tapped his fingers against the counter, and despite the gravity of the situation, I couldn’t help but be aware that he was half naked. Corbin lifted his head. “I still don’t know what’s going on there. I don’t know how the hell an assassination order was approved for him. He’s not a national security risk.”

  “If Massimo’s dead, he can’t proclaim his innocence, and the investigation can be easily wrapped up.”

  “True. But I can’t tell where the order originated from. Or how JD’s sister found out about it. I could push harder, but not while covering my tracks.”

  Obviously Corbin had a solution, and he was warming me up to tell me something I wouldn’t like.

  I slid my palms under my thighs, which were getting sticky from perspiration. “I’m listening,” I said.

  “He’s a fugitive. We have to bring him back to the States.”

  “Crap.”

  Corbin nodded.

  Massimo was going to be pissed… at me. But it was better than being dead, right? Surely he’d understand. “Ok. That seems reasonable.”

  “We’re dragging our feet with the extradition. At the most, we’ve got seven days. But all that could be expedited. Without knowing who’s calling the shots, it’s impossible to say how much reach they have or if they’re accomplishing all this with money and a few connections. Massimo could have as few as three days before he’s back here, sharing a cell with a murderer while the guards take a well-timed cigarette break.”

  I sucked in a breath.

  “It’s very easy to kill someone in prison.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I got that.”

  He became still. He was likely thinking about Henry. Corbin had made it clear that he regretted not having eliminated him. But Corbin was a former assassin, and he was doing a good job remembering that. So far.

  “Damn,” I said, shaking off the negative thoughts. “Can’t you guys… lose Massimo again or something?”

  “No,” he said reluctantly. “He wouldn’t last a day. Our best bet is to get him into federal witness protection here. I have friends who can keep him safe, which might even give us a few months.”

  And that was that. “Thank you. Really.” Because I was grateful.

  “It was my pleasure. Jennifer’s still looking into things with the LAPD, trying to see what she can shake free, but I’m not optimistic. Whoever is behind this didn’t leave clues for the detectives to find.”

  “Meaning no clues for me to find, either.” My heart sank. If I didn’t solve this, I couldn’t get Neil to patch up the mess with Frances. Corbin had fixed the problem with the construction, but he couldn’t force the sheriff’s department to play fair with Stroop Finders. “Guess I’d better figure something out,” I said glumly.

  He smiled. “You will.” He picked up the razor and rinsed it again. “Your turn.”

  “My turn for what?”

  He was already moving between my legs, his muscular body forcing apart my knees. The towel was soft, but underneath he was rigid, unyielding.

  Chapter 6

  The counter wasn’t deep enough for me to stretch all the way out, but Corbin pushed my shoulders down anyway. The back of my head rested against the large mirror. A small puddle of water soaked through the fabric behind my shoulder.

  “What are you doing?” I asked a little breathlessly as he brought my right leg across his body so that my knees were together again.

  “Taking off your clothes.” In a single, smooth motion, his fingers undid the button of my shorts and pulled down the zipper. He slid the shorts down, then off my legs. Smoothly, he stepped between my thighs.

  “You forgot something,” I said, looking down at the sensible white cotton panties I’d thrown on that morning. They weren’t granny panties, but if I’d known Corbin would be examining them up close, I would have chosen something a lot sexier.

  He grunted, then turned on the tap and filled one of his cupped palms with water. He dripped the liquid over my pussy.

  The white cotton turned clingy and almost transparent.

  Of course I knew very well what my pussy looked like, but seeing it like this… It seemed, well, obscene. Forbidden.

  Corbin trailed a finger down the damp cloth.

  His touch was just a kiss over my clit, a slight parting of my folds, and then he was pressing against my slit, the fabric still separating us.

  I wiggled my hips toward him.

  “Take off your shirt,” he ordered as he pressed my thighs wider apart.

  Eagerly, I lost the shirt, and my bra, too. Even though the bathroom was still warm from the steam, my nipples hardened.

  Corbin braced his arms on the counter.

  The muscles in his shoulders flexed as he leaned forward and covered my pussy with his mouth. He nibbled at my sex, but I couldn’t feel enough through the cloth. I moaned, wanting more than this slow, sensual tease.

  He wasn’t paying attention to what I wanted. His focus was on my sex, on teasing me, giving me just enough stimulation to send my hips pulsing desperately toward him. Then he backed away, leaving me trembling with lava-hot need.

  “C’mon,” I groaned. “Wouldn’t it be more fun to play nice?” I didn’t know why I asked it; I knew the answer.

  He tilted his head back to pierce me with his eyes. One of his brows slowly lifted, and a glimmer of dangerous amusement flashed across his face. “You need an orgasm? Or getting fucked is what you want? Choose carefully.”

  I groaned.

  Corbin’s either/or choices were always a trick. Always. Either he’d give me the opposite of what I requested, or he’d give me neither.

  Whenever Corbin started playing games, it meant he was more interested in torturing me than getting off. I needed to find a way to get him worked up before he touched me. That way, he’d be too horny to think up ways to torment me—

  He balanced on an elbow and flicked my stiff nipple. I gasped.

  “What will it be?” he asked.

  “Whatever you want,” I said, managing to keep the smile off my face. Barely.

  He bent over my hips. “Good answer.” His fingertip pulled the side of my panties over, slowly exposing my damp skin to the air.

  Little shivers swirled through me.

&n
bsp; “I been craving your taste all day,” he murmured. “God, you smell so good.” To underline his point, he inhaled.

  Then his tongue was pushing through my folds, dancing up toward my clit, then down, delving into my slit, then down, lower…

  It felt amazing, but I didn’t like where he was going. I tried to stop him, tried to push him away, tried to pull my knees together.

  But with Corbin, that didn’t work. Sometimes he would stop, but most of the time he wouldn’t. If I couldn’t handle it, I needed to use my safe word. That was the deal.

  If only he didn’t enjoy pushing my limits.

  “Please,” I said. “Let me take a quick shower first.”

  That made him sit up and grin, and something told me I’d walked right into his trap.

  Again.

  “By all means, take a quick shower,” he said.

  “Really?”

  He helped me off the counter, then went to the marble stall and turned on the water.

  Keeping one eye on my devious lover, I wiggled out of my panties and kicked them away. Corbin was still adjusting the water temperature, so I snuck a quick glance in the mirror to make sure my butt didn’t look weird—not that I could have done anything about it.

  “One of my favorite views,” Corbin growled. His voice was deep and possessive.

  My face turned pink in the mirror, and I pivoted toward him.

  With a twist of his fingers, he loosened the towel around his waist. It dropped to the floor, and his cock bobbed up, the movement hypnotic. My pussy clenched, got wetter.

  His erection was full, heavy, the skin taut and shiny.

  I tried to look scandalized. “All that just from being near my pussy?”

  “Sometimes I wonder if you know anything at all about men,” he teased as he pulled me into the shower with him.

  His hands wrapped around my face, and he moved in for a slow, sensual kiss that set my lips and tongue to tingling pleasantly. Of their own volition, my hips pumped against his, trying to rub against his shaft.

  He angled his body sideways and backed me into the slippery wall. I was pinned in place, unable to rub myself against him. My nipples tightened even more.

  “Don’t move.” He stepped out of the shower.

  When he returned, he was holding the silver razor.

  I cupped my hands over my pussy.

  “Slide your legs apart,” he ordered.

  When I didn’t, he moved in close, his hard body pressing against mine. His erection was hot against my stomach, and I could feel the thrumming of his pulse.

  “If you don’t want to do it standing up, I’ll put you in the tub, your legs dangling over the edges.”

  Yeah, that would be exposed.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and slid my feet out.

  Corbin reached for my shaving gel. It was a girly pink and smelled like strawberry.

  I thought he would start between my legs, but instead he lathered up one of my calves.

  With slow strokes, he shaved one leg, then the other.

  It had been a few days since I’d bothered, and I couldn’t help but be embarrassed by his attention. Corbin, however, seemed to be enjoying shaving me, or maybe it was the way I reluctantly submitted to him that he found so appealing. With a man like Corbin, it could be difficult to know.

  But as far as foreplay? I supposed it was romantic to have him pay such careful attention to me, but it hardly counted as an aphrodisiac. No, I would have preferred some finger-fucking.

  He caressed my skin, now silky smooth. “Get into the bathtub,” he said.

  I started to protest, but Corbin gave me that look, the stern one. The one that meant he’d get his way and I needed to figure out how difficult I wanted to make things for myself.

  My arms wrapped around my shivering, naked body, I crossed the bathroom and stepped into the enormous tub.

  “Music, on,” Corbin said, speaking to the household computer. The crime podcast I’d been binging on resumed playing.

  “Romantic,” I said, laughing.

  Corbin placed the razor and shaving gel on the side of the tub. “Play the mix for sophisticated people,” he ordered, the corners of his mouth twisting up.

  Classical music filled the bathroom.

  “Very funny,” I said.

  “I thought so.” Taking up the bathtub’s handheld attachment, he turned on the water.

  “You know what to do,” he said as he got into the tub opposite me. “Open to me.”

  Stifling a groan, I hooked one of my ankles over the side of the tub. It forced me to slide down lower.

  Corbin positioned my other leg up on the tub’s rim, spreading me nice and wide. My pussy and ass clenched reflexively, and I folded my arms across my stomach.

  “Not like that.” Corbin moved my hands to the side.

  I’d known this would be uncomfortable, but I felt even more exposed than I’d anticipated.

  The handheld attachment was on a soothing, almost rain-like setting. Corbin directed the water over my chest, then down lower. Within moments I was gasping—trying and hoping to steal an orgasm before he changed his mind.

  Then he stopped. “Not yet.” He set the nozzle aside and spread a thick lather over my sex. “So we’re clear,” he said, glancing up at me as he—to my horror—stretched out one of my lips, “I like your pussy shaved, unshaved, and everything in between. But it was a good suggestion, having me shave you.”

  “I didn’t suggest it,” I said, falling for his trap in my desperation.

  “No?” He grinned, then turned his attention to what he was doing.

  “I can do that,” I pleaded.

  “I’m sure you can,” he said. “Stay still.”

  Having a man shave my most intimate areas was… both titillating and awful. Whenever he pulled his hands away, I ached for him, but when he touched me again, I flinched.

  Corbin made a growling sound of approval. “You’re wet.” The emphasis told me he didn’t mean from water, either.

  “Well, you are touching me,” I said.

  “Yes, I am.” His voice was deep. “And when I’m done this, I’m going to touch you some more.”

  One of his fingers brushed across my clit. I sucked in a gasp, filling my lungs but somehow managing to remain very, very still from the waist down.

  By the time he was rinsing me, I was about ready to jump out of my skin.

  “Take a look,” he said.

  I craned my neck. He’d shaved the hair on my mound into a neat strip. “I’m surprised you didn’t write your name.”

  Taking my hands, he helped me stand. “I was going to write ‘Property of Corbin Lagos’ but thought it might be gauche.”

  “Next you’ll tell me that you paint graffiti in your spare time.”

  He smiled a little. “I might have when I was younger.” His voice grew serious again as he contemplated my pussy, his expression turning hungry. “Touch it.”

  I touched my fingers to the top of the strip.

  “Lower.”

  I went lower. The skin was soft and smooth. He’d done a much better job than I usually did.

  It was impossible not to notice the rise and fall of Corbin’s broad chest, and his cock was stiff, throbbing. I moaned.

  He pulled my hands away and grabbed me, lifted me. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he walked across the bathroom to turn off the shower, which I hadn’t even realized was still running. The bathroom became uncommonly quiet.

  He lifted me some, then lowered me onto his thick cock.

  My toes curled as he slid deeper and deeper into me, his girth stretching my pussy to the limit. It was uncomfortable, but I was so turned on that it didn’t matter. My inner muscles began to spasm, massaging his shaft.

  “Yeah,” he growled as he buried his face in my neck. He smelled like the shaving cream and the soaps and shampoo from the shower.

  I whimpered because he felt so good. Inside me, his cock was stroking over my G-spot with e
very thrust. His hard body was like heaven.

  “Hold on.” He grew still. He moved his hands from my waist, sliding them down my hips until his fingers were digging into my buttocks. I scratched my nails into his rock-hard shoulders. His arms were like warm, sculpted marble, and the way his muscles bulged as he shifted my weight made my pussy even wetter.

  He began bouncing me on his cock.

  I threw back my head, my eyes widening and my muscles locking. Corbin’s cock was a bit too large for me, even when I was at my wettest, slipperiest, most aroused state.

  Sometimes Corbin took it easy on me by choosing positions where I didn’t have to accommodate every inch of his thick length.

  But sometimes he fucked me deep and hard.

  “Give me your mouth,” he demanded, and while I didn’t immediately register what he’d said, the focused way he looked at my lips told me exactly what he wanted.

  I raised my chin and he covered my mouth with his, shoving his tongue in deep. Even without the rasp of stubble scratching across my lower face, there was no doubt that I was being kissed by a man. He was forceful. Claiming.

  Little whimpers were filling my ears. My whimpers. My moans.

  Corbin was groaning, too, and the slap, slap, slap of our slick bodies slamming together made for a constant, noisy soundtrack.

  He was walking forward, and I clung even harder to him. Corbin would never let me fall, I knew, but it was instinct.

  He laughed. “At least now you grab me instead of pushing me away,” he whispered, then he claimed my mouth again as he lowered me onto the counter and slammed in hard, pushing my ankles up, the tops of my feet pressing against the mirror’s cool surface as he deepened his thrusts.

  “Suck my tongue like it’s my cock,” he ordered. He sealed his mouth over mine.

  I sucked at his tongue desperately, matching the rhythm of his hips.

  We both moaned, but it sounded like I was louder. I sucked him harder.

  He stopped to gently kiss my lips, which trembled for more. “Good, so good, baby.” He thrust his tongue in deep again. I felt his cock spasming inside me, and it set me off again, my voice raspy and pleading as I soared on currents of pleasure.