by Keri Arthur
"Humans equate red with sexy." He shrugged, his muscles rippling enticingly under his sweater. "And the choice was red, black or white."
"Great color range." Her words came breathless again. He was far too close, and breathing air had become dangerously scant.
"Well, people don't come here to admire the walls."
She certainly hadn't ... Thought stuttered to a halt as his hand skimmed her side, then slid up her spine to her dress's zipper.
"And there's only one thing I came here to admire," he continued, his voice a low growl that did strange things to her already erratic pulse rate. "Right now, she's far too covered for my liking."
He slid down the zipper with agonizing slowness, then moved his hands back to her shoulders and gently pushed the straps down her arms. The dress shimmied down her body, pooling at her feet. She stepped free and kicked it to one side.
He stood back and his gaze roamed down her once more, taking in her breasts, her curves, her legs, as slowly and as devoutly as a connoisseur of the Old Masters might inspect the Mona Lisa. It was an intimate inspection that made her burn, until she was more than ready to take or be taken. But she had a suspicion that this time, hard and fast was not an option.
Unless she forced the issue, which she was more than a little inclined to do. While logically she knew it was impossible for someone to physically explode with lust, that's exactly what she thought might happen if she didn't get some serious loving sooner rather than later.
"Glorious," he whispered, his gaze rising to hers again. "Absolutely glorious."
His words made her heart do strange things. Glorious was not a word she would have used to describe herself, but she certainly loved the way the word sounded on his lips. Loved the way he looked at her as he said it.
Somehow, she found the strength to say, "Equality of the sexes is law rather than an option these days. I demand equal ogling time."
He smiled. "I stripped you, so you should return the favor."
No one this sexy had to suggest that twice. She closed the brief distance between them and slid her hands under his sweater. His skin was hot against her palms, his muscles well defined. The sweater bunched against her forearms as she reached his chest, then his shoulders, the wool smelling of masculinity and raw desire. He raised his arms, helping her only when their height difference meant she couldn't tug the sweater free. He tossed it into the corner with her dress as she skimmed her hands back down his chest and washboard abs. Her fingers hit the button on his jeans, the cool metal a sharp contrast against the heat of his skin. Her skin.
She raised her gaze to his as she slowly undid the button and slid down the zipper, watching his pupils expand with desire, until the black had almost covered the storm clad gray.
Hooking her thumbs under the elastic of his shorts, she pushed them and his jeans down his legs with the same sort of agonizing slowness he'd used when he'd been admiring her. Which left her at eye level with his cock. He was thick and hard, and she couldn't wait to get him inside. To feel that hardness probing deep.
But there was some tasting to be done first.
After tossing aside his jeans and shorts, she placed butterfly kisses on both his thighs then ran her tongue across the base of his penis. He jumped, ever so slightly, and his soft groan was both a sound of sheer pleasure and an encouragement to do more.
She smiled and licked her way up and down his shaft, occasionally taking in his balls, enjoying his groans of pleasure, the way his cock leapt, as if straining to reach the warm wetness of her own desire. But she wasn't ready to offer him that yet, simply because he wasn't yet as ready as she to explode. So she laved her tongue back up, and swirled her lips around the tip of him before fully taking him into her mouth.
He thrust in response, his body shaking with the effort of restraint as she rolled her tongue around him, alternately tasting and sucking. His movements were becoming more urgent, the salty taste of him beginning to seep into her mouth, telling her he was close to the edge. But she didn't let him cross it, pulling back instead.
"Tease," he whispered thickly. "Perhaps you need some of your own medicine."
"What I need is you inside, right now."
She wrapped her arms around his neck and clambered up his body, positioning herself above him, then driving him deep. It felt like she was driving hot iron right through the very heart of her. Damn, it was so good.
He shuddered, his body responding instinctively, thrusting hard. Then he growled deep and slid his hands to her waist, determinedly pulling her off and placing her back on her feet.
He took a deep breath and released it slowly. It whispered across her cheeks as warmly as sin.
"Hard and fast is not going to make you yodel."
She grasped his cock, sliding her hand up and down, teasing him, caressing him. Wanting him to ache as fiercely as she ached. "Right now, I'll settle for simple satisfaction."
He pulled her hand away. "Damn it, woman, I want the whole night, not an hour. It's yodeling or nothing."
She raised an eyebrow. "You're willing to let me walk out that door right now? Let me find someone else who'll give me what I want?"
"No, I am not." He placed several fingers between her breasts, and gently propelled her backwards. "We had a deal, and you will hold to your side of it."
The backs of her knees hit the side of the bed. He gave her a sexy grin and lightly pushed, so that she fell backwards, then added, "You will yodel before the hour is up."
She arched an eyebrow, a smile teasing her lips. "I don't yodel for just anyone, you know."
"I'm not just anyone." He reached for the bottle of massage oil on the bedside table and flipped the top off. The rich smell of honey and citrus tantalized her senses. "Scoot up the bed and roll over."
She obeyed, her heart tripping so hard it would surely jump out of her chest any minute now. Having this man's hands on her was the closest thing to heaven she could have imagined. Heaven itself would be having him inside, thrusting deep and hard, but he seemed determined to draw this out as long as possible. Which she didn't really mind, despite all her protests.
"But you are just anyone, because I know nothing about you."
He knelt at the end of the bed, poured a large dollop of oil into his hands, and rubbed them together. "There's nothing much to tell."
Somehow, she very much doubted that. This man had as many secrets as his gray eyes had shades. "So you have no existence outside the realm of this club?"
His voice held an odd edge of bitterness. "You could say that. Close your eyes."
She did. He didn't start with her feet, as she'd half expected him to, but her upper legs. His big hands pressing and caressing her thighs, his thumbs scooting along the inside of her leg, teasing her, driving her insane with desire. Her sigh was a thick sound of pleasure and frustration combined.
Yet as much as she'd have loved to simply lay there and enjoy his touch, she couldn't. She was here to question this man, and she had to keep trying to do that, even through the erotic assault on her senses.
"You implied that you're rich. Considering money has never fallen off trees, you must do something to get it."
"My family was wealthy. I inherited it."
The warm scent of honey and citrus curled through the air, arousing her senses almost as much as the steady, teasing closeness of his fingers. But somehow she retained enough presence of mind to continue the conversation. "So your parents are dead?"
He nodded, something she oddly felt rather than saw. "Ages ago."
"In an accident?"
"No, murdered."
His touch lightly skimmed her vagina, teasing her from behind. She shuddered, and somehow resisted the urge to press into his fingers, to shift and make them slide deep inside, to where it ached so very badly. She licked her lips and, voice croaky with desire, said, "Oh. Sorry."
He didn't reply to that, just began working his way up her butt and across her back. Part of her mourned the loss of his t
ouch further down, but his fingers were weaving such a spell that it felt as if she was walking a tightrope above a whirlpool of desire. A rope that was threatening to give way at any moment and plunge her headfirst into those glorious waters.
She wanted to drown in those waters. Just wanted to lay here and enjoy his touch and his presence. Instead, she asked, "Then what do you actually do?"
"Nothing terribly important."
She opened an eye and gave him a mock glare. "I'd really like to know a bit more about the man who intends to make me yodel."
His soft chuckle shivered across her skin and made her heart do strange little turns. "Who I am is not important. What I can do is."
"Maybe to you." She paused, then decided to push him a little more. Gentle persuasion certainly wasn't getting her much in the way of information. "You know, I met a rather sexy plumber on the way to the restroom. In two minutes I found out more about him than I have with you in an hour. Maybe I should just leave and seek out a partner more willing to share."
His grip tightened on her shoulder, his touch almost bruising. "You are mine."
"I belong to no one but myself."
The sudden edge of anger in her voice was unforced. If there was one thing guaranteed to raise a shifter's ire, it was the notion of "ownership." Way back in the past, before shifters had gained rights in the eyes of the law, they were considered genetic freaks who were more animal than human, so humans had been able to own, and generally abuse, a shifter as they saw fit. Even now, hundreds of years later, the mere mention of ownership or control was a guarantee of a firefight. And Grey, being a shifter himself, should have known better than to use such a word.
"And if I choose to walk out of here," she continued hotly. "I will do so, and you had better not try to stop me."
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His gray eyes showed a moment of indecision, and perhaps just a little frustration, then it was gone, lost to the wintry depths.
He raised his hands. "If you want to walk, then do so now." His voice was flat, yet the air between them fairly burned with anger. Not hers. His. And it was aimed as much at himself as her. Odd, to say the least. "Because if you stay," he continued, "you will hold to our bargain. And be very aware of the fact that I intend to make you mine."
As much as she tried to retain her anger at his words, she couldn't. How could she, when being his for the night equaled many hours of sensual, erotic delights?
Yet as she continued to stare into the stormy depths of his eyes, she wasn't at all sure he was talking about just a night.
The shiver that ran across her skin was part anticipation, part alarm. And totally stupid. After all, hadn't he already stated he was merely cruising? That he wasn't looking for anything permanent?
For that matter, neither was she. Obviously, common sense had flown out the window in the scramble for satisfaction.
"All I'm asking is a fair exchange of information."
"What I do for a living doesn't affect what we both want-or what I intend to do to you. Why are you so intent on delving into my life, when, right now, all that matters is quenching what lies between us?"
His voice was still flat, but his suspicion wasn't only in his words but swirling in the heated air between them. He was far too wary to be an innocent man, and yet, something within her just couldn't see him as a killer. Not of innocent, lonely women, anyway.
Or did she simply want to believe that so she could be free to enjoy his touch without regret, without worry?
"I don't think wanting to know a little more about you is unreasonable. Even if both of us know nothing will come of this liaison." She sat up. "This is ridiculous. I don't even know why I'm here."
He raised an eyebrow at that, an almost condescending smile touching his luscious lips. "You're here for the same reason I am. Amazing sex."
True, but he was here for reasons other than sex. Exactly what those reasons might be was what she had to uncover. Amazing sex might be a pleasant by-product of her investigations, but it couldn't be the total sum. Not with this man. "I'm here to find a man to have kids with. You're merely playing. Truth is, I'm wasting my time with you."
"Great sex is never a waste of time."
She swung her legs off the bed and walked over to grab her dress. His expression was amused, as if he didn't really believe she'd actually walk out the door.
And suddenly she knew that's exactly what she had to do. The suspicion that stung the air, as well as the way he reacted to personal questions, suggested he was well aware that she was here to find out more about him. It didn't matter why he suspected her, just that he did. And if she wanted to retrieve the situation, she'd have to walk out. Staying would only confirm his suspicions-and that could be dangerous.
"Great sex is something I can find anywhere. I'm after a whole lot more." There was a ring of truth in her words that surprised even her. "Thanks for reminding me about that."
She grabbed her shoes, then turned her back on him and walked out.
And tried to ignore the frustrated screaming of her hormones.
* * *
Chapter Three
"Well, this is an unexpected turn of events," Jack said into her ear. "Me and the boys were set for a night of blissful sighs and ear-shattering yodels."
"So was I," Eryn said dryly. She pulled herself onto the vanity and leaned back against the mirror. The glass was cool against her spine, and the water she'd splashed her face with earlier dripped from her chin to her chest. Neither one did anything to ease the overheated condition of her skin. "But he's suspicious, and I really had no other option."
"An innocent man had no reason to be suspicious over anything you said."
"I don't think he's the killer."
"Is that intuition or frustration speaking?"
"Both, if I'm at all honest."
"If there's one thing you've been, it's bluntly honest." Amusement touched Jack's deep voice. "And I have to say, it's shocked some of the boys here."
"They need to stop huddling in that van with you and get out in the real world more."
"I keep telling them that, but I think they're enjoying the voyeurism aspects of our job."
"Well, I guess it's cheaper than renting pornos. Where's Grey?"
"Still in the room."
"He's waiting for me to come back." She said it as a statement rather than a question, simply because she sensed it was true. Though why he was so confident she would come back was beyond her. They might share a connection that went deeper than the usual sexual link of shifters, but they were still strangers.
"Looks like it," Jack agreed.
"You uncovered any more facts about him yet?"
"We're checking files for unsolved murder cases."
"He didn't say it was unsolved," she interrupted.
"No, but I'm guessing from his tone it was. And given what he said about money, it'll probably be a high society murder, which at least narrows the search field."
"Anything else?"
"No. The man's identity has been wiped clean."
Just like his scent. It had to be deliberate. "There's been no information or help forthcoming from military, FBI or CIA?"
"'They're looking into it' is the latest response. I'm not holding out hope that they'll be much help."
"So you don't think Grey's one of their men?"
"No. But he's somebody's."
She hoped that "somebody" was on the side of good. Hoped Grey was. She had a feeling he'd be a dangerous man to be on the wrong side of.
"So, what do I do now? Leave?"
"I don't think that's an option, given what you told Grey."
She grinned. "Meaning I have permission to go forth and fornicate?"
"You have official approval to do what you have to do to maintain cover."
"Hot damn."
Jack laughed. "Who said undercover work wasn't fun?"
"Not me." She hesitated. "What about Gantry and Harrison?"
"Gantry's
still a no show. Harrison's talking to a pretty brunette." He stopped. "Grey's on the move."
"Where?"
"Heading down the stairs."
Her pulse raced with excitement. "Towards the restroom?"
"No."
Damn, she thought, disappointed.
Jack continued, "He's headed towards the back booths. Seems to be angling toward Harrison."
"What?" Had Grey known Harrison was the man she'd been talking about? If so, how? And what the hell did he intend to do? Warn Harrison off?
"He's just brushed by Harrison and is moving on to the men's room."
Coincidence? Something within her suspected not. Suspected Grey's brief encounter with Harrison had been intentional. Though she had no idea what it meant.
"And Harrison?"
"Still talking to the brunette." He hesitated. "Hang on, he just headed to the restroom."
"You got camera's or listening devices in there?"
"No."
"That's a bit slack."
"People pissing, farting and shitting is not something we need to hear or see. Especially when those people are men."
"Meaning you have devices in the women's room?"
"Well, no. Not for lack of trying, though."
"You're sick, you know that?"
"I try my damnedest."
She grinned. "You think Grey and Harrison know each other?"
"Until we know more about Grey, we won't know."
"But Harrison is who he says he is?"
"Yep."
"You going to have security check out the men's?"
"Who's the cop here?"
"That a trick question?"
He chuckled softly. "You sure you're happy where you are? I'd love to have you on my team."
"Being cooped up in a van with sex-starved men is not my idea of fun."
"We could make it fun." He paused. "Security's just gone in."
Footsteps approached the restroom door. She turned on the tap and scooped up some water. "I'm about to get visitors," she informed Jack. "I'll let you know when it's safe to talk."
Three women pushed through the door, all noise and energy. Eryn splashed the water over herself, closing her eyes and ignoring the three of them as they visited the toilets, washed their hands, and redid their makeup. They were there for a good ten minutes, laughing and chatting like giddy teenagers, though at least one of them was close to forty.
