by Cynthia Eden
No, probably not.
He withdrew, then thrust again. Long, lazy strokes.
“You, ah…sure seem to remember plenty about sex.”
He stopped thrusting. Just stared into her eyes. “The primitive responses…the primitive memories, that’s what you and the other docs said we kept, right?”
Her fingers were on his chest, sliding over his nipples. “Procedural memories,” she whispered. “You remembered those. Procedural and, ah, yes! Primitive responses, too…”
He was moving his hips faster. Harder. “Doesn’t get more primitive than sex.”
“No…”
Not more primitive. Not more basic.
His hands caught hers. Their fingers threaded together, and he pushed her hands back, holding them against the pillow. He loved the way she looked right then. Sexy and wild. Lips swollen. Eyes wide with satisfaction.
“This is a mistake,” Cecelia said, her voice barely a whisper.
His shoulders stiffened.
“I should have stayed away from you. Shouldn’t have…ah…crossed the line.”
He was balls deep in her. “Why…” Speaking was nearly beyond him. The desire flared too dark again. “Did…you?”
“Because I wanted you too much.”
And that was what he needed to hear. Her desire. Cecelia, wanting him. Lust took over. Dark hunger rode him hard, as if he hadn’t just come within her. As if he hadn’t just emptied into her hot body. He caught her legs, lifted them over his shoulders and they proceeded to wreck that bed.
When she came again, Cecelia screamed his name. And he didn’t care if anyone heard her. If her neighbors were too close—screw them.
He plunged into her again and again, and when his release hit this time, it was even stronger than before. Pleasure seemed to fill every cell of his body. Euphoria had him shaking, and he held tight to her, so tight, and he knew that he was just getting started.
Anyone tries to take her from me…I’ll fucking kill ‘em.
Chapter Six
She’d made a mistake. Cecelia knew it. Yes…yes, dammit, Flynn wasn’t her patient any longer. She got that, but…
But giving in to the desire she felt for him had still been wrong. Wrong because now, she was shaken. Vulnerable. She’d let him get too close, and Cecelia was afraid there would be no backing away from him.
He was her protector, her guard, twenty-four seven, and now that she knew what sex was like with him, Cecelia just wanted more. She was greedy and she was wild when she was with him. Flynn called to a darkness that she kept locked away deep inside of herself. A darkness that was very, very dangerous.
Control mattered to Cecelia. Control in all aspects of her life. But after the attack in the alley, she’d lost her control. She’d been skating toward the edge of a cliff, and Flynn…he’d pushed her over that cliff.
“I don’t like this place,” Flynn muttered, drawing Cecelia from her thoughts.
They were on the sidewalk, just outside of a club called Sin. Cecelia was sure plenty of sins were occurring inside that place.
“Music is too loud,” Flynn groused.
For someone with his enhanced hearing, yes, it probably was too loud. Even for her, the pounding beat seemed to shake her body.
“Get used to it,” Aaron advised from his position a few feet away. “Only going to become louder when we go inside.”
Aaron had insisted on checking out the club with them. Located just a few blocks from Jennifer McKenzie’s home, Sin was the club that the victim had often frequented. With the arrival of night, the place was truly hopping. A long line of men and women stretched down the sidewalk. Some of the women wore short skirts, some wore tight tops, and all looked as if they’d spent a great deal of time to appear as sexy as possible. The men sported expensive coats and carefully styled hair. They lounged with fake ease as they eyed the women. They were all there to party. To hook up. To find oblivion.
“The line is seriously long,” Cecelia noted, and she wasn’t exactly dressed to match the others. She just had on black pants and a red top. Red heels, too because, well, she liked red. “Gonna flash your get-in-now card, Aaron?”
Aaron grinned at her as he pulled out his FBI badge. “You know it. Come on.” He headed right for the bouncer, waving his ID and telling the hulking guy that he needed to get inside so he could talk to the bartenders.
The bouncer let him pass, but frowned at Cecelia and Flynn.
“They’re part of my team,” Aaron said easily. “And they’re coming in.” Not a question, but an order.
The bouncer nodded. He smiled at Cecelia. “I got a thing for redheads. Would’ve let her in no matter what.” His gaze slid over her. No, down her. “You natural?”
Flynn stepped in front of her. “Do you want me to kick your ass?”
She grabbed Flynn’s arm and jerked him toward the entrance. “Focus.”
He came with her, but he shot a glare back at the bouncer. “I am focusing…on kicking his ass.”
The bouncer—who had a few inches and at least fifty pounds on Flynn—gave a bark of laughter. “Bring it anytime! We’ll see how fast you go down.”
Flynn’s eyes narrowed. “Cece, he’s asking for it. He wants the ass kicking, and I should oblige the guy.”
“No, not now,” Cecelia told him as her grip tightened on Flynn. “We’re here for a job, remember?”
“I’ll remember him,” Flynn promised. “Don’t you worry about that.”
Aaron swore. “Seriously, this shit can’t get personal.” He was ducking and dodging his way through the crowd. “We need to find out about Jennifer McKenzie.” He pointed toward the busy bar. “I’ll talk to the guy tending bar right now. A place this size is bound to have a couple of bartenders—let’s find them all and question any waiters or waitresses who might have seen Jennifer recently.”
He disappeared into a throng of bodies.
Cecelia tilted her head as she cast a quick glance at Flynn. “You don’t have to protect me from everything.”
“Don’t I? I thought that was my job. I mean, I’m your bodyguard.” He voice was carefully calm.
“I can protect myself from plenty of things. Including an asshole bouncer.” Their bodies were close. The music was loud and somehow, they’d managed to get stuck in the middle of the dance floor. She turned away from him, and her gaze swept the crowd.
“I…didn’t like the way that jerk talked to you.”
“Yes, but that still doesn’t mean you get to kick his ass. Remember who you are,” Cecelia emphasized carefully. “And remember that one punch from you would probably kill the idiot.”
Flynn didn’t respond.
Being there with him—it made her nervous. No, Flynn made her nervous. They’d had incredible sex—several times—but then Aaron had called and with his call, the real world had come back. Getting involved with Flynn was a minefield. One wrong step and Cecelia knew her world would explode.
“Do you sense Bryce here?” Cecelia asked. She had a photo of Jennifer McKenzie, and Aaron had one, too. The plan had been to show those photos to the staff members. Aaron wanted to know who Jennifer had hooked up with at that club. But Cecelia already knew who Jennifer’s mystery man had been. She’d come to that club because she wanted to find him. Before Aaron does.
“Don’t feel him. Don’t hear him.” Flynn was grim. “Doesn’t mean the bastard isn’t here, though. This place reeks of cologne and alcohol. Drugs. He could easily hide his scent here. He could be watching right now, and I wouldn’t know it.”
Not exactly reassuring. Her gaze drifted up to the second level of the club. The VIP area. She bet all kinds of things went on up there. Considering now, her stare traveled back down. A red velvet rope blocked off the entrance to the stairs, and she saw another bouncer standing near the rope. Clutching the photo of Jennifer in her hand, Cecelia made her way to that bouncer. He was tall, darkly tanned, and sporting tats on his neck. When he saw her coming, his gaze darted over he
r—and then behind her. The bouncer stiffened.
Flynn does not make things easy.
“The VIP area is upstairs,” Cecelia said.
The bouncer just lifted a brow, as if to say…Sure, lady, isn’t that obvious?
Her lips thinned as she lifted the photo toward him. “Was she a frequent visitor to the VIP area?”
His gaze slid to the photo. His eyes flared, for just the briefest of moments. A tell-tale sign of recognition, but the guy shook his head. “Never seen her before in my life.”
Did she look like she was in the mood for bullshit? “The FBI is here. Special Agent Aaron Barrett intends to question all of the staff members. If you know this woman—”
“Never seen her before.” He rolled his shoulders. “Gonna ask you to step back now.”
Flynn stepped closer. “That woman is dead. Maybe you missed the part about the FBI talking to all staff members. We’re going to find out about her. They’re going to learn about the sex club you have upstairs—”
Wait, um, sex club?
“They’re going to storm this place, and they’re going to shut down the business.”
The bouncer was sweating.
“If you have information for us, spill it, now.”
The bouncer looked up the stairs. “Boss is up there…he…he might know her.”
“Then you’ll want to introduce us to your boss,” Flynn directed simply. “Right the hell now.”
The bouncer turned, fumbled, and unhooked the red velvet rope. “Th-this way…”
Cecelia glanced at Flynn. “Impressive.” She leaned closer to him. “How’d you know about the sex club?”
“Because I can hear the people up there.” His gaze burned a dark gold. “I can smell them.”
She swallowed.
“Sometimes, pain sounds like pleasure, and pleasure sounds like pain.” His voice was grim. “I think Sin deals in both pain and pleasure.”
Oh, shit. She glanced over her shoulder looking for Aaron. She didn’t see him in the crowd.
“Are you coming?” the bouncer demanded.
She hurried up the stairs, and Flynn was right behind her. At the landing, the bouncer led them down a narrow hallway. The walls were painted black and the overhead light was dim, a weak stream of illumination. All of the doors were shut, but Cecelia did hear moans…sighs.
Her cheeks burned.
“This way.” The bouncer stopped in front of the door at the very end of the hallway. He gave a quick knock and then turned back toward them. “Stay here while I tell my boss about you.” He disappeared into the room.
Flynn’s fingers brushed over her side. “I don’t like it when you’re afraid.”
Join the club. Not the sex club, but…jeez, get a grip. “Bryce isn’t in that office, is he?”
“Can’t be sure. I still don’t feel him but…”
The door opened. The bouncer was sweating even more. “Benjamin Larson will see you. But only for a few minutes.” He brushed past them. “Then you’ll need to get your asses back downstairs.”
At his announcement, Cecelia instantly schooled her features. She yanked her mask in place and sucked in a deep breath. Flynn just stalked inside, as if he owned the place. She followed him, but she took slow, deliberate steps. Inside that room, a man—dark hair, fancy suit—stood in front of a gleaming bar. His back was to Flynn and Cecelia. “Are you FBI?” he asked.
Cecelia eased out the breath she’d been holding. Bryce King wasn’t there. “We’re working with the FBI,” she replied carefully. “Special Agent Aaron Barrett is downstairs—”
Benjamin Larson turned to face her. His fingers gripped a glass of whiskey. His hold seemed to tighten on the glass as he stared at her a moment. “But you’re not FBI, are you?” His gaze darted to Flynn. “He looks like a soldier to me, walks like one, takes in threats like one…” Benjamin gave a laugh. “I watched the two of you…from the minute you both appeared in front of Sin, I was watching you.” He took a quick gulp, downing the whiskey. “Got cameras everywhere.”
“Then if you have those cameras, perhaps they picked up this woman.” Cecelia walked toward him, holding the picture for him to see. “Jennifer McKenzie.”
“I know her.” Benjamin shrugged. But he’d barely looked at the photo. Instead, his gaze lingered on Cecelia’s face. “What happened?”
Cecelia tucked the photo back into her pocket. “She was murdered.”
His gaze dropped to Cecelia’s throat. “Strangled?”
“Yes.”
He took a step toward Cecelia, his gaze still on her throat. His hand moved toward her neck.
Flynn’s hand flew out and locked around Benjamin’s wrist. “You don’t touch her.”
Benjamin’s head turned. A faint smile curved his lips, but the smile never reached his eyes. “Sorry. I tend to be…impulsive.”
Cecelia thought he tended to be controlling. Dominating. Thoroughly dangerous.
But he backed away from Flynn. “I don’t think I caught your names.”
He was playing a game with them. Fine. She could play, too. “I’m Dr. Cecelia Gregory—”
“A doctor? Of what?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m a psychiatrist.”
His smile stretched. “That’s why you’re working with the FBI. Because they want your help…understanding Jennifer? Understanding her killer? And you—you like dark spaces so you couldn’t wait to run inside of Sin and see what you could find.”
You like dark spaces.
Benjamin glanced at Flynn. “You a psychiatrist, too?”
“No.” Flynn’s hands were loose at his sides, but she could practically feel his battle-ready tension.
“Not a shrink, then what are you?”
Flynn just stared at him.
Benjamin swallowed. Once more, his gaze slid back to Cecelia. “I’ll tell you what I know about Jennifer, but only when we’re alone.”
“What kind of bullshit answer is that?” Flynn demanded.
It was the kind of bullshit answer that a dominating, scheming individual would give. A man who wanted to be in total control. Benjamin viewed Flynn as some sort of competition, and he wanted Flynn out of the way.
“It’s okay,” Cecelia said softly. She put her hand on Flynn’s chest. “You can just stand right outside of the door. I know you’ll hear me if I need anything.”
What Benjamin didn’t get…having Flynn on the other side of the door was the same as having the guy in the room with her. He would come running inside at the first sign of trouble.
Flynn’s lips thinned, but she knew he got her message. He didn’t leave though, not until he’d tossed a hard glare at Benjamin. “Hands off.”
Smirking, Benjamin lifted his hands.
Flynn slipped outside. The door clicked shut behind him.
Cecelia squared her shoulders. “Happy now?”
“Not even close.” Benjamin gave a sharp laugh. Then his expression softened and his mask fell away. “Cecelia, sweetheart, what in the hell are you involved in now?”
***
Cecelia, sweetheart, what in the hell are you involved in now?
Flynn stiffened. His hand flew out and his fingers locked around the doorknob. That bastard had just spoken to Cecelia as if they knew each other. More…as if they’d been close. Intimate?
Oh, the hell, no.
Footsteps rushed behind him. Flynn’s nostrils flared. Dammit. He whirled to see the special agent asshole hurrying toward him.
“Where’s Cecelia?” Aaron demanded. His hand was hovering near his holster. The guy needed to stop that trigger-happy shit.
Flynn jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “She’s having a meeting with the club’s owner.”
“Benjamin Larson?”
Flynn nodded.
A low whistle escaped Aaron. “That is one dangerous bastard. Can’t believe you left her in there alone with him.” He tried to brush past Flynn.
Flynn’s hand lifted and flattened on the
guy’s chest. “Benjamin said he’d only talk to Cecelia.”
“Yeah, but what if—”
“If there’s trouble, I’ll break the door down. Then I’ll break him.” Simple.
Aaron absorbed that. “You sound like you mean those words. But…what if she can’t scream? What if she can’t call for help?”
“She doesn’t need to scream for me. I’ll know.”
“How the hell will you know?” Aaron demanded.
Flynn just stared back at him. And he heard…
“Ben, it’s been a long time.”
Dammit. Cecelia did have a past with the guy.
***
“Ben, it’s been a long time.”
“Five years? Six?” He poured a drink and offered it to her. “I know you were never wild about whiskey, but you should try this one. It’s got kick. Aged twenty-two years.”
Cecelia shook her head. “No, thank you.”
Benjamin laughed. “Always so polite. Always so proper.” He put the whiskey back on the bar. “Am I the only one who saw past the mask you wear?” He motioned toward the door. “What in the hell is the story with soldier boy out there? The guy was practically standing at attention the whole time he was inside.”
And he’s standing at attention just beyond the door right now. Standing and listening to every word we speak.
“Sent him out so we could talk privately.” Benjamin lifted his dark brows. “Didn’t know if you trusted the new lover with the secrets of your past.”
Whether she trusted him or not, Flynn would know about her and Benjamin. She hadn’t sent Flynn out to protect herself. She’d sent him out so that Benjamin would be lulled into believing he had the upper hand. The man truly did like to think he was in control—always.
A dangerous thing.
“Do you still like to walk in the dark, Cecelia?” His voice had dropped. “Like to feel danger stroking your skin?”
“I didn’t know you were in D.C.” Benjamin had been in New York the last time she’d seen him.
“Opened up a new club.” He shrugged. “Had to get things started right here. Though I didn’t expect a visit from you. Fate is funny, huh?”
Freaking hilarious. “Tell me about Jennifer.”
His lips twisted. “She was like you. She enjoyed playing with the dark, getting the thrill of danger, but then returning to her safe world when the night ended.”