Deep Dark

by Laura Griffin

  He watched her, reading the look in her eyes. It was right there in front of him—a dare. She held his gaze, and his pulse picked up. She could read him. She knew exactly what he was thinking, what he’d been thinking since he first saw her.

  He bent his head down and kissed her. She tasted sharp and sweet from his whiskey. Her hands slid up around his neck, and he felt her fingertips tangling in his hair. He shifted her, pressing her back against the railing, and she made a low moan and tipped her head back.

  He kissed her jaw, her neck, breathing in the scent of her skin. He pulled her hips against him and kissed the tender spot just under her earlobe, and she made a soft, feminine sound that filled him with need. Her skin was salty, and he knew she’d been crying earlier for reasons she didn’t want to tell him. She didn’t trust him, not fully. But still, she’d come.

  Her nails dug into his scalp, and she brought his mouth back to hers, and he kissed her hard and deep as her hand slid down to his belt. She gripped it, curling her knuckles against him.

  “Reed.” She pulled away. “Let’s go inside.”

  CHAPTER 18

  He stared down at her for an endless moment, and she knew he was thinking of some reason to reject her. But then he took her hand and led her back to the house, leaving their glasses outside.

  Hot, jittery excitement filled her as the glass door slid shut with a thunk. She’d been wanting this to happen. From that first night, she’d wanted to feel his body against hers, wanted his hands on her bare skin. She was tired of waiting, and now she wanted all of it, everything she’d been thinking about. For the rest of tonight, she wanted to be the center of his attention.

  He pulled her down the dark hallway. His grip on her hand was firm, but he didn’t seem hurried, and a little tremor of anticipation went through her as he stopped in the doorway of his bedroom. He glanced around, maybe taking inventory or thinking about the mess. She leaned her hand against the doorway and started taking off her shoes and then her jeans as her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she looked around his room.

  He pulled the jeans from her hand and tossed them away, then backed her against the wall, kissing her roughly. He slid his hand up her bare thigh and gave a low moan of approval as his fingers encountered the strap of her bikini panties. She hitched her leg up and pulled him closer, kissing him as roughly as he was kissing her.

  She loved the feel of his body against hers. She loved the way he kissed. Every touch was strong, confident, and all her past experiences melted away in comparison. Everything about him was manly, nothing boyish or tentative. He pulled back to look at her, and the determined gleam in his eyes made her insides tighten.

  He tipped her head back and moved down, sliding his hand under her shirt and stroking his thumb over her nipple. His mouth closed over it through the fabric, and she squirmed against him. He dragged her shirt up, then moved her bra aside, and his mouth on her bare skin was an electric shock.

  He had a thing about her breasts, she’d noticed, and he seemed intent on them now as he lifted her arms and yanked her shirt over her head and tossed it away. His hands stroked over her, and then his mouth, and she tipped back her head and gave herself over to the maddeningly hot sensation of everything he was doing. The stubble of his beard scraped her sensitive skin, sending shivers through her as he played and stroked until her body throbbed. He returned to her mouth again, and she rocked her hips against him and made a low needy sound in her throat.

  Suddenly, he lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he walked her to the bed. He lowered her onto it and leaned over her, and she realized he was still completely dressed while she was down to nearly nothing. He seemed to realize this, too, and started unbuttoning his shirt, his gaze never leaving her body. She got onto her knees and batted his hands away, wanting to do it herself. She’d been thinking about this, about getting him out of his starched shirt and getting her hands on those hard muscles. She finished his buttons and pushed his shirt off, and he pulled his white T-shirt over his head. A rush of excitement filled her as she sat back on her knees to look.

  “Wow.”

  “What?” He leaned forward and caught her mouth with his.

  She didn’t bother explaining, just kissed him and made quick work of his belt. He got rid of his pants, and then the bed sank under his weight as he rested his knee between hers. She glanced at his muscular abs and the dark line of hair that trailed from his navel to the top of his black briefs.

  He wrapped his arm around her and scooted her back into the center of his bed, then kissed her deeply, and she wrapped her leg around him to pull him close. She wanted his weight on her, hard and heavy. But before she could settle him where she wanted, he slid down her body and got started on her breasts again.

  “I like this,” he said, peeling down the straps of her flimsy black bra. He moved the fabric away and stroked his hands over her skin. “This, too,” he said, licking and teasing her. His hand glided behind her back and deftly popped the clasp, and then he pulled her bra away and kissed her some more, and his stubble sent hot little darts through her.

  She propped herself up on her elbows and watched him, smiling because she wasn’t exactly used to compliments on this particular part of her anatomy.

  “What?” He glanced up.

  “Nothing.”

  She lay back down and ran her hands over his muscular arms and his broad shoulders. She loved his warm skin and the tension she could feel running through him. She tugged at the waistband of his shorts, and he got rid of them. She scooted down the bed and reached for him, but he clamped his hand around her wrist and planted it firmly beside her head. He gave her a look of warning as he kissed his way down her body again, sliding her panties down and over her legs, and she heard the whisper-soft sound of them hitting the floor.

  She tipped her head back and sighed as his mouth and his hands moved over her, sliding and exploring. She let her legs fall open and let the sensations wash over her. He knew exactly how to touch her, exactly where. He noticed every sigh and shiver and homed in on precisely what she wanted, what she craved, and didn’t have to be shown a thing. The heat built inside her, and she gripped the bedspread in her hands. His mouth moved over her until she was squirming and moaning, and still he didn’t stop. She arched her hips.

  “Reed.”

  He seemed to know she was losing it and kissed his way up her body, settling between her legs like she’d wanted, but it still wasn’t enough.

  She grabbed his head and kissed him, pressing herself against him, loving the hot pressure of his skin. He pulled back, breathless, and his gaze on her was intense.

  For a moment, she blinked up at him in the dimness, shocked that they were actually here together, actually in his bed after all her fantasizing.

  He reached across her and dragged open a drawer, and she took the opportunity to kiss his chest and stroke her fingers over the hair there.

  “Fuck.” His body went rigid.

  “What?” She sat up on her elbows.

  But then he relaxed. “Nothing.”

  She caught a glint of foil as he slapped a condom on the nightstand. Disaster averted.

  And then he was back again, kissing her, but it was harder and hotter now because the teasing was over. He shifted her under him and leaned his weight on his elbow as he covered himself with a condom. She reached for him in the darkness and tried to help, but he moved her hand to his hip as he pushed her legs apart. And then his gaze locked on hers, and she braced herself as he drove into her.

  It was hot and painful and good, and she gripped his shoulders as he pulled back and did it again, slowly this time. And again.

  She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him closer because she wanted more. But he was already there, already changing the pace, going harder and deeper until she clutched her arms around him and dug her nails into his back. The rhyt
hm built until he hit a perfect, blissful stride, and all she could do was hold on as he pushed her and pushed her until she didn’t think she could stand it. He was breathing fast now, and his muscles bunched under her hands as he drove into her again and again. She was reaching her limit, but she still wanted more. She made a high, pleading noise that didn’t even sound like herself as she clutched her legs around him and pulled him as close as she possibly could. And then he reared back and gave a stunning thrust, and every nerve in her body exploded as he crashed against her, pinning her beneath him at last.

  She lay there, dizzy. She couldn’t move or even breathe. She opened her eyes, and her face was pressed against his neck. She felt his pulse racing against her cheek and a surge of giddiness that she’d made him work.

  He pushed himself up, blinking down at her in the dimness, then rolled to his back.

  She closed her eyes. With his weight gone, she filled her lungs with air again. Her body felt numb. Her heart was still pounding, and her toes actually tingled.

  “You okay?”

  She glanced at him, surprised by the note of concern in his voice. “Why?”

  “I was kind of . . . rough.”

  She smiled. She rolled to him and rested her head against his side. His skin was damp and hot. He smelled like sex and sweat and man, and she took a deep breath and nestled closer.

  She drifted off. Minutes or hours, she didn’t know. But when she opened her eyes again, the room was darker. Quieter. She lay with her back against his front, and she felt the heavy weight of his arm on her waist.

  She blinked into the darkness, and her gaze landed on the window of his room and the faint pattern of horizontal lines created by moonlight shining through the blinds. She spied her bra on the nightstand, and her brain slowly clicked into gear.

  She should go. It was late, and there were things she needed to do tonight. And not do. Spending the night at Reed’s house was on the “not do” list. But his body was warm against hers. And his arm on her waist felt . . . safe.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt totally safe going to sleep.

  Maybe she’d stay, just for a few more minutes. She tucked his arm closer and let herself drift.

  • • •

  “I thought you went home?”

  Veronica glanced up from her computer to see Jordan standing in the doorway of the evidence lab. “I did,” Veronica said. “Got called back on this shooting thing. Hall put a rush on the slugs we recovered from the apartment.”

  “Why?”

  “Damned if I know. And I’m not sure we’ll get much, because they’re pretty misshapen. But it’s worth a try.”

  “Hmm. Well, I’m out,” Jordan said. “Don’t stay too late.”

  “I won’t.”

  Veronica returned her attention to her computer and uploaded the files. Instead of sending them to DPS, which was notoriously backlogged, she was sending them to the ballistics lab at the Delphi Center. The slugs themselves had already been couriered over.

  There was something up with Hall. He’d been all over this shooting case, even visiting the crime scene, which he seldom did. The lieutenant hated blood and was known for losing his lunch at homicide scenes. But he’d shown up tonight anyway and even insisted on walking the building with Reed Novak, getting the detective’s take on how the shooting had gone down. It wasn’t Hall’s usual response to a nonfatal incident, and Veronica didn’t know what was going on, although she had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with the two recent murders.

  The crimes were getting tons of press, and for once Veronica didn’t think the media was going overboard. She’d watched the news reports and read the stories, and even the most lurid accounts didn’t include the details she thought were truly frightening.

  An image flashed into her mind of April Abrams sprawled on the floor with her head bashed in, her T-shirt pushed up around her armpits. Veronica tried to imagine the horror of waking up in the middle of the night and realizing you weren’t alone.

  “Still here?”

  She jumped and whirled around. “Don’t sneak up on people.”

  Jay stepped into the room and walked over. “I wasn’t.” He looked over her shoulder. “What’s that?”

  “Photos of the slugs.”

  “Already?”

  “Hall put a rush on everything. We’re sending this to Delphi.” She glanced up, and he was reading the email she’d been composing. “Do you mind?”

  “Sorry.” He stepped back.

  “Any idea why he’s got a bee in his bonnet about this one?”

  “No,” he said, but the tone of his voice told her he did know.

  “I was thinking it had to do with Reed’s cyber-­detective friend,” she said. “I saw her at the scene being interviewed.”

  “Yeah, she knows the victim.”

  Veronica lifted an eyebrow. “You think she’s involved?”

  Jay didn’t respond.

  “Does Reed think she’s involved?”

  Again, nothing.

  “Fine, don’t tell me.” She turned her attention to her computer. “I’ll figure it out soon enough anyway.”

  Jay leaned against the counter. “So I was wondering.” He cleared his throat. “You eaten yet?”

  “Had a Twix a minute ago.”

  “I meant dinner.”

  She sent the email and exited the program, stalling for time so she could think. Was he asking her out? She hadn’t been asked out in a while, but that’s what it sounded like. Then again, maybe she was reading too much into it. Jay was a big man and probably had an appetite to match.

  She glanced up at him, and he was watching her. Damn it, he had pretty eyes, too. They were brown and watchful and definitely interested in her response. He wasn’t just hungry.

  “You want to get dinner together or . . . ?”

  “I don’t go out with cops.”

  The corner of his mouth curled up in a smile. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. No offense.”

  “None taken.” He was definitely smiling now as she gathered up her papers and slid them into a file.

  “If you had to guess why Hall is so worked up over this shooting,” she said, “what would you think?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But it might have something to do with the FBI turning up at the crime scene.”

  “We didn’t call them?”

  “Nope.”

  “Hmm. Curiouser and curiouser.”

  “So why don’t you?” he asked.

  “Don’t what?”

  “Go out with cops?”

  She tilted her head to the side. “You’re a detective. See if you can figure it out.”

  “I don’t know.” Another smile. “I’m thinking of some gun jokes, but they’re a little crude.”

  Veronica rolled her eyes and stepped past him to stack the files on her desk. She glanced around the lab to make sure everything was off for the night.

  “Really, what is it?”

  She looked at him. Did he truly not know?

  She’d learned the hard way that cops talked. A lot, especially the detectives. They shared evidence, swapped stories. It was one reason they were good at their jobs, but from her perspective, it was a problem. She had to work with these guys day in and day out, and she didn’t want to be fodder for a bunch of locker-room gossip. So even though she’d been asked out a lot over the years—by detectives and beat cops and even lab technicians—she made a habit of saying no.

  But this time, she felt tempted.

  “Come on.” Jay stepped closer, evidently taking her silence for ambivalence. “One dinner.”

  “It’s almost midnight already.”

  “I know. You must be starving.”

  She grabbed her purse off the back of the ch
air. “You’re very tenacious.”

  “Tenacious, huh? I like that.” He smiled sheepishly. “I was worried I might be coming across as desperate.”

  She sighed. “Listen, it’s really nothing personal, but—”

  “We can go to the IHOP over by campus. You can catch me up on your work, I’ll catch you up on mine. It’ll be like a staff meeting. But with food.”

  She folded her arms over her chest but didn’t say anything.

  “Come on. What else do you have to do tonight? Go home and watch Bones reruns?”

  That was exactly what she’d planned to do, damn it. She couldn’t help it—she smiled. “You detectives are really obnoxious. You know that, right?”

  • • •

  Reed glanced at the clock. After three. He rolled out of bed and grabbed a pair of jeans off the back of the chair in the corner.

  He watched Laney sleeping as he zipped up. She was out cold. He walked to the front of the house and checked the lock, then peered through the window at Laney’s car in the driveway. He checked the garage door and the slider, frowning down at it because he’d thought he’d left it unlocked.

  He glanced back at the kitchen. A pair of glasses sat on the counter beside the sink, and Laney’s purple phone was plugged into his charger.

  She was sneaky. He hadn’t even felt her slip out of bed. Reed flipped on the back porch lights and returned to the bedroom.

  He paused in the doorway. She lay on her stomach now, her arms tucked under the pillow. Her back was pale and smooth, and the sight of her asleep in his bed made his chest feel tight. For a moment, he couldn’t move—he just stood there in the doorway, wondering what he’d gotten himself into.

  She was evasive. And infuriating. And unpredictable. But there was something about her that pulled at him. She was a mystery he still hadn’t managed to unravel. Just seeing the dark curtain of hair against her cheek stirred something inside him, something raw and emotional that he hadn’t felt since that first year with Erika, before they’d even been married. He’d been twenty-five and practically a kid then, about the same age Laney was now.