Confess (The Blue Line Series Book 1)

by Phillips, Reagan

  He raised his chin, and she met his stare.

  “I’m not scared of you,” she answered the question burning through his eyes.

  His voice was low. “You should be.”

  He leaned in and stroked his stubbled chin down the line of her neck, milking a low moan from her throat. No doubt leaving a trail of beard burn she’d have to explain away in the morning, along with the marks on her neck. His marks. It didn’t matter now. Worry ceased to exist in his arms.

  Her belly tightened at the grating burn of blunt hair on her soft skin.

  He leaned his head back, giving her a full view of his face. A transformation had taken place while he’d nuzzled her neck. Gone was the man so hell bent on protecting her from Stetson, replaced by someone with fear provoking need in his eyes. The sudden rush of adrenaline made her breath stop and her knees buckle.

  Mitch squeezed her hips between his hands, hoisting her up against the wall. He balanced her body with his thigh as he pressed himself between her legs. On instinct, she wrapped both legs round his waist. “If you want me to break my promise and fuck you, you’re going to have to beg for it.”

  The part of her that craved control balked at the idea of begging for any man. But another part, one she’d ignored too long, urged her to comply.

  “I don’t beg.” Even through the protest, her body arched from the wall and pressed into his. Her nipples burned from his bare flesh. Her clit swelled with untapped desire.

  A grin played on his lips. He titled his head from one side, stopping long enough to take her in, then to the other side. “Oh, yes you will. When I’m done with you, begging will be your favorite form of communication.” He reached through her hair and circled his fingers around her neck to pull her closer. With his other hand, he cupped between her thighs and fondled the damp fabric hiding her arousal. A pleased grin crossed the dark lines on his face. “See, your body already knows how to beg for me. Now your mouth needs to learn.”

  If his hips hadn’t held her pressed to the door, she would have melted into a pile on the floor.

  Mitch descended on her, pressed his mouth into hers. He rubbed circles over the fabric that covered her clit until her body shuttered so close to release she bit her lower lip and held her breath, hoping to hold onto the feeling as long as possible. He took her right to the edge. Then he stopped.

  “Don’t stop yet,” she whispered in his ear.

  “I didn’t say you could come.” Mitch’s voice blew across her neck before he pulled the delicate flesh of her bottom lip into his mouth and nibbled until waves of pain-laced pleasure rippled through her.

  A please perched on Lacy’s lips, ready to leap into the air and signal him on, but she couldn’t let herself go that far yet. She had to hold on to some string of control, or her desire for Mitch would swallow her whole.

  “Beg,” he commanded. “I want to hear you beg me to bury my cock in you. I want to hear the words from your swollen lips.”

  She squeezed her shaking legs around him. The rush of defiance and the pressure from his thumb were enough to make her squirm against his hand.

  She wanted more. God, she’d do anything if he’d rip the boxers off and take her, right there in the middle of the hallway up against a door. But she’d never begged for anything in her life, and she didn’t intend to start now.

  “No,” she answered. He’d already said once she started something he wouldn’t be able to stop. “If you want to fuck me, then do it anyway.”

  Mitch narrowed his gaze on hers. His hand stilled. His lips curled into a delicious smile. “You shouldn’t have said that.”

  He dropped her feet to the floor. One steady arm swooped behind her knees, catching her and lifting her into his arms and through the bedroom door. He kissed her, a hard assault, no longer asking permission, but taking what he wanted. Greedy. Hard.

  Lacy fought back, pulling his lips in between hers, licking her tongue across the slit of his mouth until he opened and allowed her entry.

  Pressed against his chest, he lowered her to the bed.

  One slow, seductive inch at a time, Mitch crawled up her. His lower lip burned a trail from the curve of her right hip to one tightened breast. His tongue worked circles around the nipple then his mouth closed and sucked hard against the swollen areola, pulling an invisible string from the sensitive flesh to her clit, before moving on and repeating the ruthless routine with the second.

  “Beg me,” he whispered, his lips pressed to her breast.

  She dropped her head back. “I don’t beg, Detective.” Her voice shook as a spasm of desire washed over her.

  Unsatisfied with her answer, Mitch spread her quivering thighs with one leg and slid his hand under the boxers, right back to the same spot that had sent her so near completion minutes before. He worked his thumb along her bare clitoris in circles, gliding along from her juices.

  Without the protective barrier of fabric, Lacy couldn’t hold off the ripple any longer. The shock waves washed her body with heat and need. Her head fogged, blocking out the small voice telling her this was all wrong, until he stopped moving.

  “No.” The word came out a mumble against his mouth. She tightened around him, held him in place and rocked against the even pressure of his hand. She swam so close to freedom her head went light, and her vision blurred.

  “Beg, Angel. Beg to come on my hand. Beg me to finish you.”

  “Why?” She wasn’t sure if the scant air in her collapsed lungs had managed to push the single word out until his fingers stopped again.

  When he pulled his mouth away from her breast, her eyes fluttered open to find the most satisfied grin sketched across his face.

  He narrowed his gaze and tightened his grip around her arms. The length of him pressed at her clothed mound, coaxing moisture to form where the heat had radiated.

  “Because I need to know you want me in control.” He kissed the place below her throat. “Because when I fuck you to oblivion and back, I need to know you want it as bad as I do.” His mouth lowered to one shoulder, then the other. “Because in the morning, I’m going to want you all over again, and I need to know you’re not going to regret a moment of tonight.” He slid his fingers under the boxer’s waistline, and he pulled the fabric down her legs in slow motion.

  Lacy swallowed the knot in her throat and let go. “Fuck me, please.”

  A grin played on his lips before he buried his face in her. His tongue lapped against her swollen clit.

  Lacy wrapped her fingers in his hair, pulled fistfuls of the soft strands between her fingers, giving him permission to take her to the brink.

  In the short time they’d known each other, he’d already figured her out. Lacy couldn’t back away from a challenge, no matter the stakes. And he was using that weakness to his favor.

  “Please,” she begged, sucking her lower lip in and biting down to keep from coming a second time.

  He squeezed her ass cheeks in both hands, arching her upward, taking her deeper into his mouth. The warm sensation sent her spiraling out of control.

  Mitch climbed up her body and hovered just over her on his elbows, the light sprinkle of chest chair tickling the inflamed skin of her breasts. His teeth bit into her shoulder. His denim jeans chafed the soft flesh between her legs, the friction almost enough to send her reeling into another orgasm.

  Lacy reached for his waistband, but he grabbed her hand and stopped her at the button. “No.”

  He had to be kidding. She looked up into his stormy brown eyes. “But I begged.”

  Mitch rocked his hips back and forth, pressing the rough fabric into her sweet spot. She moaned at the pleasure, feeling his stiff erection under the relentless inseam. “Next time I ask you to beg, you won’t hesitate.” He smiled. “And I made you a promise. Locked bedroom door…”

  “You also said you’d spread me out on your bed, and I’d wake up there in the morning. What about that promise?” Lacy lifted to her elbows, desperate for him to ease the ache he’
d flamed inside her. Desperate for release. “I won’t think any less of you in the morning.”

  He cupped her face between his hands and looked down to her. “The first promise I made as a jerk. The second as a gentleman.”

  Lacy smiled. The heat in his gaze said he couldn’t hold out much longer. “A gentleman would have locked the door already.”

  He ground his hip into her over and over, picking up speed until she arched against him, circling through her second sweet release. Mitch kept moving to help her ride out the spasms until her body stilled.

  With her eyes closed, the last of the spasms faded as she felt Mitch’s weight lift from the bed. She didn’t open them, too afraid she’d see him retreat. But, instead, his weight returned to the bed and his warm fingers slid up her sides until his hard cock laid naked along her inner thigh. “I thought you said you didn’t beg?”

  Without waiting for her answer, he rocked to his knees and pulled on a condom before spreading her legs with his thigh and pressing the head into her folds.

  Lacy grabbed handfuls of sheet and bit her lips together, but the moan of pleasure still escaped.

  The first two thrusts came easy, stretching her to accommodate his length, but the third pressed in hard and deep. “Is this what you wanted, Angel? To feel my cock inside you?”

  Lacy moaned a yes.

  She found the courage to release one hand from the sheets and search out his shoulder. Her nails dug in as she held on. With her eyes closed, she pictured their silhouette. Him hovering over her with one arm pulling her back up from the bed in a bow. Her, arms forward, reaching for her lover. How erotic it must look when he pumped into her.

  “I can’t make your mouth beg for me, but your body knows how to listen. Doesn’t it.” He drove deeper, stealing her next breath.

  She could only whisper his name in answer.

  He dropped his mouth to her neck to kiss her. “Trust me, Angel.”

  The plea milked a shiver. “Trust me enough to let go.”

  Lacy rolled her head back into the covers and closed her eyes tight. “I’ve never trusted anyone enough to do this. Not anyone.”

  He rocked back, pulling out almost completely. “Let yourself go. Trust me.” With a gentleness that surprised her after the first forceful thrusts, he moved forward again, working her slow and with deliberate stride until the need for more became so great she dug her nails in deeper and bit her lip to keep from demanding more.

  “Let go,” he whispered. He circled his fingers around her hips and drove in at a now punishing rate that fogged out everything but her building need for release.

  Lacy dropped her hands over his and held on. Her hips worked with him, driving him on for more.

  Above her, the growing thrums of a building moan echoed as he neared his own end. “Give it to me, Angel. Surrender.”

  His coarse demand coupled with the last strong pulses of his cock as he neared release sent her racing to the edge.

  She had submitted, hadn’t she? In his home. In his bed. She’d given in to a night of uncomplicated sex.

  “Surrender,” he whispered again, his lips hovering over her ear.

  He moved his hand between her legs and pressed into her clit. With his cock still buried inside, he began working her sex in exquisite circles to match each trust.

  A wave of excitement washed over her followed by the clenching of muscles and the need to climax.

  For the first time ever, Lacy let reality drain from her, replaced with the warm rush of Mitch’s release.

  This was what he meant by surrender. Reaching the edge with him and being able to let him take her over.

  His elbows buckled, and his weight dropped to her. He rested his head on her chest as she fought to cut through the fog.

  Her body felt too heavy to move.

  He’d asked her to let go, to trust him, and she’d said nothing. Stayed emotionally unattached. Milked her release from him and given nothing back in return.

  That was how this relationship was supposed to work. One night. No strings. Fucking eggs for breakfast. But, in that moment of post-sex bliss, she wasn’t sure staying emotionally unattached was possible for her.

  His weight lifted.

  She heard the sliding of a drawer from the wood dresser then his weight returned, and he worked something soft and warm up her legs and hugged around her waist. A fresh pair of boxers.

  He pulled the cover from underneath her waist and wrapped her, turning her to one side, and sliding in close until he slid in behind her and locked her against the warmth of his heaving chest.

  She nuzzled her back into him. Her voice hummed low. “You said couch, locked door, and eggs.”

  A low laugh vibrated through his chest. “That was before I saw you come in my lucky boxers. I’ll never be able to wear them again and not feel your body shake in my hand.”

  She snuggled her back harder into his chest. “As long as you haven’t changed your mind about the no strings part.”

  He laughed in answer and fell silent with her head nestled into the crook of his neck.

  Lacy couldn’t be sure how long she’d laid there, only that she’d started to drift when something buzzed from the table by her head.

  She closed her eyes when he reached over her to grab his phone. He checked to see if she was asleep before he pulled his arm out from under her and take the call to the hallway.

  He pulled the door, too, but a thin ribbon of light still permeated the dark bedroom, and his voice carried.

  “Another one? Just like the first.” His voice was hard. Cold. “No. Don’t let it out of your sight until I see them first. Nobody can see them before I get there, got it? Good. Thirty minutes tops.”

  The floorboards outside the door creaked under his pacing.

  She knew that call. The one that always came in the middle of the night and reminded a cop there was a job to finish. Reminded him he was needed elsewhere. The call that had taken her father away more times than she could count. The call that had made her mother invisible and drove her to leave.

  She wasn’t willing to disappear into the sheets every time Mitch’s cell rang in the middle of the night. She wouldn’t make that mistake. It didn’t matter anyway. One night. No strings attached. He wasn’t hers.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Still fuming from his early morning wake up call, Mitch claimed an empty desk at the Rebel PD and fanned out a stack of decade old case files he’d convinced the office secretary to supply for the price of a hot coffee and a warm smile.

  In his years before becoming a detective, he’d poured over the online version of the Wray files night after night like some people binge watched Netflix.

  Every detail. Every name and date and evidence number of each of the thirteen murders that took place within a fifty-mile radius of Rebel over a ten-year period. He knew every damn one by heart. Every victim’s picture he’d burned into his brain.

  But something was missing. Just as a killer always has a motive for committing murder, they also have a reason to stop, though Wray’s dry spell still remained a mystery.

  A detail he’d bet his balls someone in the department had gone to great lengths to hide. But why?

  He leaned back in the rickety officer chair and folded his hands behind his head. Just as he’d known she would, Lacy popped into his thoughts. She’d been asleep when he left to investigate the newest evidence in the case, and gone when he returned. Nothing left but a stack of folded cloths on the dresser and a still warm spot in his bed.

  Thumping his pen on top of the stack of files, he replayed the last few hours.

  Bishop, his long time mentor and current superior, called with a tip from a group of local hunters. While setting up their deer blinds in the pre-dawn hours, they’d uncovered two lengths of blue nylon rope stained in blood from near the same spot search and rescue dogs had dug up a girl’s half buried body a week before.

  The description of the body, brunette, torn clothing, rope burns on her
wrists and ankles, crushed skull, brought back vivid memories of Sadie.

  Other than the age difference, the body came close to being the same work as the man who’d killed Sadie, but something wasn’t the same. Maybe it had been the years between killings, but why go after grown women when Wray’s MO years before had been young girls? Wray had always been meticulous in cleaning up his crime scene. Why the rush job now? It didn’t add up in his head even if Nashville and Rebel were more than happy to write off the new murder as Wray’s work. To a cop not versed in Wray’s patterns, it would be easy to mistake the few similarities as evidence, but not to the guy who’d spent his adulthood and the last years of his youth searching for his cousin’s killer.

  That thought led him right to the empty side of his bed where Lacy had slept the night before and the sting of rejection finding her gone.

  He’d tried to call her cell, but she didn’t pick up. It wasn’t until he’d had the dispatcher in Nashville search for Connie’s number that he found out she’d safely seen Lacy home.

  Those few seconds of doubt cut years off Mitch’s life, a fact he intended on making known once he found Lacy again. He just had to find a way to make sure she knew he couldn’t be shaken as easy as a pre-dawn slip out the backdoor.

  He flipped open the report file from the newest murder and searched for similarities to link the new killing with the thirteen others spanning Wray’s ten year killing spree. To the untrained eye there would be several, but he knew Wray better than he knew himself. He’d find proof Wray wasn’t the killer.

  The young girl with blonde hair to her shoulders, soft green eyes, and the kind of infectious smile that put people at ease stared back from the photograph as if begging for his help. Underneath were pictures of her mutilated body. Her wrists tied, her clothing torn, blood soaked through and dried to the thin fabric of a white sundress.

  The coffee in his otherwise empty stomach churned. After years of working homicides, he’d never developed the iron resolve that made his line of work bearable. Even though Bishop thought his sensitivity was an asset to the job, Mitch cursed the constant emotional connection to victims on his caseload. His personal demons got in the way of distancing himself from a case.