Heat: An Alpha Male Criminal Romance (A Hotter Than Hell Novel Book 1)

by Holly S. Roberts

  His laughter fills the night, causing tingles to run across my skin. He squeezes my hand a little tighter, and I want him to stop walking, take me in his arms, and kiss me. To my disappointment, we continue our stroll. “I’m the soul of propriety—every woman’s dream and I have no idea how those thoughts entered your pretty little, thumb twiddling, brain.”

  “Modest too,” I tease. This conversation is so… normal.

  My teasing earns a reward. In one fluid move, he stops and pulls me into his chest. We’re in the shadows and even though I know he has guards, I feel that we’re the only two people inside his walled paradise. His lips are gentle. His hands go to my ribcage beside my breasts while he licks and tastes my lips. His thumbs glide across the material of my shirt in a soft caress over my breasts, though not quite touching my nipples. The kiss remains playful and I want sensual. I try to angle my head, but he moves with me and keeps things light and flirty. I moan into his mouth and receive a small answering groan.

  “Why are you doing this?” I ask throatily after he releases my lips and places light kisses along my jaw.

  “Because you always taste so damn good,” he says on a slow breath. His teeth scrape where his lips left a burning trail of fire. “Here too.” He bites down on the tendon of my neck and my body heads into the danger zone. The zone that says, Fuck me and please make it good.

  I lift my hands to his jaw and run my fingers over the sexy scruff. It sidetracks me from what he’s doing until he slides his hands between us and cups my breasts. Now, his thumbs rub across my nipples, tightening the stiff peaks. My entire body is at attention. He moves one leg between mine and pulls me closer so my crotch is riding his thigh.

  Fucking hell.

  The friction of our clothes and the pressure of his leg drive me wild. My clit swells as I rub myself against him. Moon’s right hand slides down and he gains access beneath my shirt. I react with a shudder when he touches the bare skin on my side. His fingers are so damn hot, they burn. His other hand goes to my ass and he pulls me tighter against his leg. I need to be naked and not standing outside with clothes separating us. I need to fuck him instead of humping his leg. I need so many things at once—more pressure, nipple action, him inside me.

  It’s only been about two minutes since he started this and my blood is roaring through my body while Moon’s heat consumes me. His lips return to mine with more light nibbles. He’s controlling my body and keeping me from ending this slow torture. Then, like he’s reading my mind again, his fingers slip beneath my bra and tease over my nipples. His mouth leaves mine and he rakes his teeth down the sensitive skin of my throat. His large hand cups my other breast and his fingers squeeze until I’m on my toes and panting in his ear. I’m holding onto his waist for dear life. The pulsing ache spreads from the juncture of my thighs to my nipples and back again. The two points are a circuit of energy.

  Then, he’s back at my mouth and he’s done playing around. I place my hand at the front of his pants and press against his erection. He moans while his tongue delves deep into my mouth. He squeezes my nipple with slow steady pressure. It hurts. It’s delicious. It’s exactly what I need. He moves his hand down so he can cup my ass again. He grinds me against his leg. The sensations are overwhelming. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. But fuck do I feel. My orgasm jolts through me. I’ve never felt this way before. I get off on control even when it comes to my orgasms. Moon takes me over the top with nothing but the pressure of his leg and his damned fingers that have switched to my other nipple, so both are sore and needy.

  My blood is pumping through my veins in ragged pulses. I fall against his chest and his arms surround me as I ride out the waves. When the last ripple fades, he kisses me again before allowing me to bury my face in his neck. Why the hell did he give me that? I’m too undone to think of a possible answer.

  “You okay?” he whispers in my ear, raising chill bumps on my skin. A fine sheen of sweat covers me, and I can feel the dampness of his shirt as I breathe in his incredible scent. Moon eases his leg from between my thighs, and his hard length presses against my belly. His hands drop and his fingers grasp mine. He brings them up between us and gently kisses the backs of my knuckles on one hand and then the other.

  We’re in the shadows, but I can still detect the color of his eyes. I see blue—steamy—heat. “Your eyes change color,” I say instead of answering his question.

  He searches my gaze for a moment. “It’s the curse of blue eyes. They change with what color I’m wearing. My mother loved it, and I wanted her beautiful brown ones. She and my father had brown eyes but his mother and sister had blue.”

  My words come out breathy as I try to control my breathing. “A recessive gene. They’re beautiful.” I don’t think he understands that his eyes change with his mood.

  “That’s exactly why I hated them as a child. Boys should not be beautiful.”

  I laugh at his pouty words. It’s a breathless, sated laugh. “It’s not only your eyes, Moon. You’re beautiful—every part of you.” What’s come over me? I don’t see him the same way I did a day ago. He’s my hero. The man who rescued me. The man who just got me off with his mouth, fingers, and hard, delectable thigh. His actions prove there is good in him.

  He’s looking deep into my eyes, and I can tell that something he sees disturbs him. His expression changes. His tone becomes hard and inflexible. “You’re taken in by the outer facade. The darkness I carry is hidden on the inside.” His fingers thread through my hair and he tightens the strands within his fists to make a point. “The things I do are cold and calculated. Don’t be fooled and think I’m good, baby.”

  I don’t believe him. “Tell me about your mother.” I need Moon to be my knight in shining armor. I need him to be good and worthy of the feelings that are raging through me.

  His expression doesn’t change, but his words surprise me. “She would have liked you.”

  I laugh because he has no idea. “Mothers never like me,” I tell him. I’m not putting myself down, just stating fact. I see it in their eyes when I’m introduced. My large breasts and curvy body give me a voluptuous, sex kitten look—aka trampy. Moms know exactly what their sons see in me. They don’t feel I’m a good candidate as the mother of their future grandchildren.

  “My mother would have,” he says with finality. “She was a strong woman and had no problem speaking her mind. Some thought she ran right over my father, but he loved that she stood on her own two feet. My father would have liked you too.” Moon’s gaze shifts away for a moment before he looks at me again. “They spent so much time caring for my brother. He had needs, day in and day out. Regardless of this, they never forgot me. If my mother held my brother and sang to him when he was having a difficult night, she would do the same to me after he eventually fell asleep. I remember her sleepy eyes and how she took time so that I always knew I was loved.” Moon inhales and my hair slips from his fingers. I gently rest my lips against his neck. His salty skin tastes amazing. I want so badly to soothe his pain. “Until my brother died, my mother always smiled. After his death, they were rare and usually only for me or my father. She carried her sadness every minute of each day.”

  His eyes are so dark I would swear they’ve gone black. “You don’t need to hear the rest. It’s nothing good, only tragedy. I’ll say it again, though—my mother would have liked you. I’m sure she would have easily grown to love you. She always wanted a daughter.”

  He’s killing me with words. Wrapping me up in tangled knots of indecision. I’ve always yearned to belong. I always wanted a circle of friends who had my back. But as an introvert, I was too shy in school. The police department was different. To make it to the academy, you’re in the top ten percent of those who apply. The psyche test, polygraph, and physical requirements weed out the rest. Then the academy weeds out more. Only two-thirds of my original class graduated. When I finally put on my uniform, I was automatically accepted into the club of brotherhood and sisterhood because I wore a bad
ge. That dream is lost now and I can’t pretend anymore. They no longer want me in their exclusive club. Moon is slowly weaving another dream. One where we leave everything behind and ride off into the sunset together.

  Standing here now, I would go. So utterly stupid, but I would. I don’t know why my usually rational mind has changed so quickly. I’m making excuses for his lifestyle. Maybe it’s because I’ve only heard about it and I’ve never actually seen the brutality of his criminal empire. Knowing about his father’s death and the possible reasons behind Moon’s actions help me romanticize who he is. “What happened to change your life, Moon?”

  He grasps my fingers with his other hand and squeezes a little too hard. Turmoil plays in his eyes and his voice sounds tortured. “You don’t want those answers, Madison. Don’t ever think my kindness with you does anything but hide a dark, vicious heart. I live by a code that you will never understand, and I’ll die by that code.”

  The words are almost hokey, but I understand the code. Maybe not his. It’s the code of blue that I lived and was willing to die by. What he’s saying still pisses me off, though. “You don’t need to live or die that way, Moon. You choose this life.”

  He releases my hand and takes my chin within his steel grip. His strength can’t be denied, and I feel small and almost helpless in comparison. His attitude has turned cold. Unforgiving. I want the heat back and for the freeze that has entered his eyes to leave. “Need has nothing to do with who I am. You…” His eyes rake downward and stop on my breasts. “I desire. If I were a good man like my father, I would let you go. I wouldn’t bring you into my world of death and greed and blood and sacrifice. In less than one week, my ambitions spilled over onto you. Four days and you’re infected with the disease that is my world.” It’s the coldness in his eyes that brings me up short. I feel like a sexual object, his available toy.

  I can’t hold back my anger and I twist my face from his grasp and step back. “Penny’s death is on me. My job spilled over onto you. You saved me because your heart isn’t as black as you claim it is.” I’m desperate for this to be true. It needs to be because I don’t want him to ruin my dreams so quickly.

  I cringe when he laughs this time. He quickly grasps my hair and pulls until I wince. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. That shit is on me. Your friend died because of what I put into play. Dixon Connor said exactly what he was told to say. I could give a fuck about Dandridge’s wife. The only part that shouldn’t have happened was your involvement.”

  I space into what’s known as tunnel vision. I hear the words, but my brain is frozen on Dixon Connor. “How the fuck do you know Dixon’s name?”

  Moon leans in farther, his voice low as he grinds out the next words. “Because I set it up. I’m taking down Kennedy. I’m weeding out the cops who are loyal to Manuel Estephon and keeping the ones who are loyal to me. It’s war. I’m taking New Mexico away from Estephon.” Moon releases my hair and his hands drop to his sides. I stumble back a step. “You get me, Madison? Do you understand that I’ve pulled you into my deadly mess? I’m far worse than any devil you’ve imagined. Don’t for one second think I’m anyone but exactly who you were told about in that academy class of yours. The death toll is about to rise and the blood of each life taken will be on my hands.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  WE’RE SILENT AS MOON leads me back to the house. He grabs two of my pills from a kitchen cabinet and watches me take them. I’m too overwhelmed and don’t argue because my head is pounding. He leaves me alone in his room so he can attend his conference call.

  I curl up in his bed, inhaling his scent and wondering how this went so fucking wrong. It was Moon’s actions and not mine that killed Penny. Moon’s fucking games. Manuel Estephon is thought to be the number one killer on American soil and directly tied to the Mexican drug cartels. If Moon is to be believed, and I don’t know what to believe anymore, Kennedy is tied to Estephon.

  Moon’s war means cops will die. I can’t allow that to happen. I have no idea where to turn or who to turn to. Just Estephon’s name fills me with dread. At Estephon’s orders, five young men were beheaded a few months ago. Gruesome, horrific deaths that were blasted over the Internet. And Estephon got away with it. Does Kennedy have any idea who he’s dealing with? Fuck. Of course he does. Kennedy is a very smart cop.

  I need to get out of here. I’ve been pretending to be Cinderella in the goddamn castle with her Prince Charming when, really, I’m Persephone and Moon is Hades. The orgasm he gave me was the pomegranate seed. There is no orgasm on earth strong enough to keep me within the walls of Moon’s hell.

  The pain meds eventually dull the ache in my head, though I can’t sleep. Why did Moon tell me all this? Even with a fuzzy head, I try to put the pieces together and find a way out of my nightmare. I’m here of my own free will. Moon hasn’t forced me to stay. Gomez and Moon have never harmed me. Harry’s the one who caused me to hit my head. Then I have some wild story about being forced off the road. I can’t prove who’s behind it. Kennedy following me to lunch won’t wash as a threat either. Even if there’s actual video of him inside the restaurant, he has as much right to be there as I do. Oh, and a look. When I worked the streets, I hated those calls—he stared at me, she stared at me. When adults say shit like that, it’s nearly impossible not to roll your eyes. If I take what little I have to the police, I’ll sound like a fool. I’m willing to admit to myself that I am a fool. Telling the police about my foolishness is another story.

  I don’t understand why I’m part of this at all. Okay, so Moon had me brought to his house after the incident in the garage. It doesn’t explain why I’m suddenly a player in his deadly game. Yes, men look at me and want in my pants. My looks do the job without needing a tramp stamp to advertise. On the force, I wore a Kevlar vest and kept my hair in a tight bun. I never put on more than minimal makeup. I was taken seriously, and when I went on patrol, people saw me only as a cop.

  Now my life is different. As a PI, I sometimes take advantage of my assets and I hate it. Does Moon only see me as ass and tits? He has access to countless women. Not just prostitutes, or as he calls them, escorts. I’ve seen the society pictures on television. The women he dates are the top of the social elite. I don’t have half their beauty or refinement.

  Since the day I met Moon, I’ve been creating sexual fantasies about him. I hate to admit that I’m no different than a lot of women and find bad boys attractive. Hell, Moon blows the other bad boys out of the water. I’ve been trying to give him the benefit of the doubt and convince myself that he may not be as bad as he’s portrayed. I knew he wasn’t exactly crime free, but when it came to murder, drugs, and guns I thought maybe he’s misunderstood. If that isn’t stupid, I don’t know what is.

  No matter how hard I want to, I can’t just turn off the switch and not desire Moon. I’m an alpha female. I’ve been searching for that special man who can handle my kick-ass persona. Moon’s that man, but I can’t have him. Our worlds are too far apart.

  The bedroom door opens and Moon stands in the dimmed light. He hesitates before walking into the closet. I hear him change clothes. Well, not exactly. He’s minus his clothes and wearing boxer briefs when he comes out. He turns off the lights and pushes back the thin coverlet and sheet on his side of the bed. I don’t know what to do.

  “You should be sleeping,” he says into the quiet room after he’s made himself comfortable.

  I should be angry and give him the silent treatment, but that’s as stupid as everything else flashing through my head. I owe him for rescuing me the other night. No, not with my body. I can at least be civil. “I tried. The pills don’t seem to be working. I’m wide awake.”

  He rolls over so he’s facing me. “Come here,” he says and pulls me closer.

  “Moon.” It’s not quite an objection. I don’t understand all these feelings that are jumbling my brain. I try not to think about my earlier orgasm. That road leads to heartache and endless frustration.


  “You need a massage. Your body’s been through hell. It’ll make you sleepy.” He begins running his hands over my skin before finishing his statement. I turn fully to my belly and he moves his hands beneath another of his dress shirts that I’m wearing. I moan when he lightly massages my injured shoulder. The shirt is pulled tight over my breasts, so I lift a little and let it slide up more so he can work. I shouldn’t allow this, but I can’t fucking stop it. I crave his touch. It’s all I’ve thought about since waking up in his home a few days ago.

  His hands feel so damn good. I lie still and let him work his magic. I don’t actually know when I started crying. Once the tears start, they won’t stop. I let them fall against the pillow and try to muffle the sound of my sobs.

  I fought against Moon’s world for three years. No, actually longer than that. Practically my entire life has been about living on the right side of the law. I know there are dirty cops, and now it’s been thrown in my face. Don’t even get me started on Mexico and buying your way out of traffic tickets or any of the other ways their legal system is corrupt. Just look at the notorious drug kingpin El Chapo. He escaped prison through an elaborate tunnel just days ago and they still haven’t found him. He had help on the inside as well as on the outside.

  This is the United States. Moon can’t have too many cops on his payroll; it’s impossible and I refuse to believe it. These thoughts pound through my head and more tears fall as Moon’s hands and fingers work my sore muscles. They leave a path of heat that makes it impossible for me to distinguish lust from pain. I cry harder.

  Suddenly I’m on my back with Moon looming over me.

  “Don’t cry, baby.” He wipes my tears, and I turn my face away and cry harder. He slides down so his body is alongside mine. Words are all I have and I strike out at him. “Why the fuck did you tell me about your war? You know who I am. Did you plan to kill me all along?”