by Erika Wilde
He hesitated a moment, then did as she ordered. She swept the terry cloth across his broad shoulders, and took her time washing the slope of his spine, his hips, buttocks, and thighs. Warm water drizzled over them, rinsing away the soapy suds and leaving his skin smooth and slick to the touch.
And touch him, she did. Letting the washcloth drop to the tiled floor, she slipped her hands around to his chest and skimmed her palms down to his abdomen while lapping the moisture from his shoulder with her tongue. Standing on tiptoes, she deliberately pressed her wet breasts along his back, her feminine mound to his buttocks, and rubbed sinuously against him as she trailed her lips along his jaw. With a low, needy moan, he turned his head, his mouth seeking hers, but she continued to tease him with soft, fleeting kisses as her fingers wrapped around the hard, straining length of his erection.
He instinctively bucked his hips, sliding his shaft more snugly into her grip, and she squeezed him tight and brushed her thumb over the silky, pulsing head of his cock. He sucked in a harsh breath and grabbed her wrist before she could increase the exquisite friction and send him over the edge.
In one fluid motion he managed to turn them both around, so that he was standing behind her now, and flattened her hands on the wall in front of her. She turned her face away from the shower spray drenching her, and he pushed the spigot downward, so the stream of water cascaded over her breasts, licked across her belly, caressed the length of her legs and trickled along the tender flesh in between her thighs like the soft, delicate lap of his tongue. Her provocative thoughts mingled with erotic sensation, heightening her awareness and making her entire body swell with shameless anticipation.
Holding her hands in place on the wall, he insinuated his bare foot and knee between her legs and widened her stance even more. “Have you ever been frisked before, Jo?”
A shiver of excitement coursed through her, adding to the chaotic rush of water over her sensitized skin. Professionally, during training, yes, she’d been patted down, but never, ever by a man who turned her on and set her senses on fire with a hunger and desire she couldn’t seem to control.
“Not like this,” she whispered, wanting this, wanting him.
“It’s a standard search, Ms. Sommers,” he drawled into her ear, his amusing words reminiscent of the same ones she’d spoken to him when she’d taken Dean into custody. “Just to be sure you aren’t carrying any concealed weapons.”
She laughed huskily, then groaned as his hands slid down her wet arms, cupped her breasts in his palms and his thumbs flicked over her nipples in a tantalizing caress. Flirtatious and teasing, he skimmed his fingers over her curves, along her sleek skin, down the length of her body, slowly, sensuously, bringing nerve endings alive with desire. It didn’t escape her notice that he was once again holding the reins of this seduction, controlling her every response and ultimate surrender, yet she was too aroused, too needy, to care.
“Umm, only one more place to check,” he said, and straightened, bringing their bodies flush, his chest to her back, his groin to her bottom, where his thick erection nestled provocatively in the crease of her ass. He slipped a hand around to her belly, coasted lower, and parted her swollen, aching flesh with long fingers. She moaned. His first probing touch felt so hot, so acute…and she felt so sensitive, so wet—ready and primed for a wild, uninhibited orgasm.
“Oh, yeah,” he encouraged in a low growl against her neck. “Come for me, Joelle, just like this…”
With skillful, knowing strokes, he turned her body to liquid, her mind to mush, and pushed her to the very edge of ecstasy. The pressure and tension spiraled to an exquisite pitch, and then she was falling and crying out and shuddering as pure, carnal pleasure shook her to the very core of her being.
She gulped air into her lungs, and her quivering legs buckled. He caught her around the waist, holding her up, keeping her safe in the shelter of his arms, then turned her around in his embrace. Dark, glittering eyes met hers, and he pressed her up against the stall while lukewarm water showered down upon them. He crushed his lips to hers, parting them easily, and kissed her long, deep, and hard as the entire length of his body moved restlessly against hers. Their wet skin rubbed, igniting a fire deep within.
Needing more, Jo wrenched her mouth from Dean’s as a feverish sound escaped her throat, as did the softest of pleas. “Dean, I want you inside me. Please.”
“I’m there,” he promised, and tucked his hands beneath her bottom, spreading her knees wide as he lifted her feet off the ground. Wedging his thighs in between hers, he pulled her supple, giving body back down to his and buried his rigid erection to the hilt.
A searing heat shimmered through her and a startled gasp ripped from her chest. Her shoulders were braced against the wall for leverage, and she automatically wrapped her arms around his neck and clenched her legs tight around his hips to help hold on.
“Oh, God, are you sure about this position?” she asked breathlessly, so incredibly aroused she knew she wouldn’t last long, even this second time.
“Oh, yeah, I’m very sure,” he whispered in her ear, his words confident, his breath hot. “There’s something to be said for being a featherweight. All you have to do is hang on, sweetheart, and enjoy the ride.”
With a strength and agility that amazed her, he gripped her hips in his large, strong hands and worked her body precisely the way he wanted, exactly the way she craved. He surged deep inside her, withdrew, slid upward once more, pushing into her, over and over. He felt so vibrant, so alive, like a flame burning inside her, consuming her. She clung to him as he increased the rhythm of his thrusts, as he sank deeper into her soft, welcoming body.
And still, it wasn’t enough.
Wet, slippery skin created an unbearable friction, and she tangled her fingers in his wet, silky hair as she arched into him with every thrust, fusing them more intimately. His harsh breathing quickened against her throat as his hips pushed more forcefully against her, pumping harder, faster. A frenzied need built, sizzling hot and immediate. Demanding in its intensity.
Pleasure swelled to a bursting point then exploded, dragging them both under at the same time. He caught her moans of ecstasy with his mouth as the pulsing spasms shaking his body rippled into hers.
Boneless and sated a short while later, he eased her down the wall until he was kneeling on the tiled floor with her straddling his waist and their bodies still joined. His heartbeat thundered against her chest, and she relished the connection, the quiet, perfect intimacy of the moment.
Cool water cascaded over them, chasing away the heat that had scorched them both. She brushed a kiss to his full, soft lips and pressed her forehead against his. “It seems you’re the only one with a concealed weapon,” she teased.
He grinned lazily. “At least I know what to do with it.”
She chuckled at his sexy reply. “Oh, that you do, Mr. Colter.”
His gaze turned a deep, serious shade of jade that was underscored with a wealth of tenderness—the kind she’d had very little of in her lifetime. “I think I’m addicted to you, Jo Sommers.”
She swallowed hard, fearing the same thing, that this man was quickly becoming a habit she didn’t want to shake. And she had no idea what she was going to do about the growing obsession.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
After a night of intense pleasure and incredible, erotic passion, Dean was disappointed, but not entirely surprised, that Jo had woken that morning with her emotions withdrawn and tucked neatly away, and her demeanor all business and much too formal. They’d eaten breakfast at a local diner, then walked the one block to the service station to wait for the Suburban to be repaired. Since hitting the road hours ago, she’d adeptly avoided any deep, serious conversation that might lead to something more personal—such as their current relationship and what lay ahead for them…if anything at all.
Gone was the teasing between them. And gone was the warm and willing woman who’d allowed him free, uninhibited access to her body and desi
res, only to be replaced by a contemplative and quiet female who seemed to disregard all the intimacies that they’d shared the past two days. And the closer they got to their destination, the more emotional distance each mile seemed to put between him and Jo.
Shifting restlessly in his car seat, Dean exhaled a low, heavy breath. Despite his frustration, he kept his concentration on the stretch of freeway Jo was navigating toward San Francisco, his gaze off the silent woman sitting beside him, and his thoughts to himself. The latter was the most difficult since there was so much he wanted to say to her, so many uncertainties he wanted to talk about in terms of them, together.
In a very short amount of time he’d grown to care for Jo in ways he’d never anticipated. Hell, he knew his feelings for her went deeper than just lust and sexual desire. They encompassed emotions and needs that made his head spin and his heart pump hard in his chest. He wasn’t willing to walk away from her with nothing more than a friendly goodbye once he was cleared of the crime he hadn’t committed, yet she’d never indicated she wanted anything more than a brief fling. He also knew he had no right to ask her for something more long-term when he had to get his own life in order.
In the meantime, no matter how difficult, he’d respect the personal boundaries Jo had erected since this morning, even though he hated being shut out in the process. If he’d learned one thing about this stubborn, self-sufficient woman, he knew she needed her space and didn’t appreciate being pressured, coddled, or backed into a corner with ultimatums.
By the time they finally pulled up to a one-story brick building with the company name Sommers Investigative Specialists etched on the front door, the tension surrounding Jo and in the truck was nearly palpable. The emotional distance between them was as wide as the Golden Gate Bridge he’d glimpsed on the way to her brother’s offices.
She cut the engine, allowed a deep sigh to unravel out of her, then glanced his way. “Well, here we are. One step closer to you being a free man.”
He chuckled, trying to lighten the moment between them. “I never thought I’d love hearing the sound of that.”
The faint smile he’d managed to glean faltered and shifted into a more serious expression. “Dean…I know you’re innocent but, just so you know, Cole isn’t too thrilled that you aren’t cuffed and restrained, despite what I think or feel.”
The realization that she’d defended him to her brother pleased him immensely. “You told him I’m innocent?”
She nodded and rubbed her palms down her jean-clad thighs. “Yeah, last night when I called him. I tried to explain about your last visit to San Francisco and someone stealing your ID and assuming your identity, but he was skeptical.”
Skeptical of not only him as a runaway felon but also of Jo’s decision to leave him free and unbound, he realized. Her admission of that fact had obviously cost her a good chunk of trust and respect from her brother. Reaching across the distance separating them, he gently brushed his fingertips along her cheek and threaded them through her silky hair. He needed that connection with her before they walked into the office, met with her brother, and everything between them shifted and changed even more.
“Thank you, Jo,” he said, his voice low and rich with meaning.
A small frown marred her brows. “For what?”
He smiled, wishing he had a direct link to what was going on in that head of hers. Then again, maybe he was better off not knowing. “For believing in me.” Cupping the back of her head in his palm, he drew her mouth to his and kissed her softly, letting his lips linger on hers so he could savor her sweet taste.
She was the first to pull back, her reluctance to go further, to give more, tangible—as was the resistance she struggled to maintain with him. He stared into her eyes, saw a deeper longing that contradicted all her attempts to remain detached, and knew in that moment that somehow, some way, he had to find a way to convince her that he believed in her, too.
* * *
With a deep breath for fortitude, Jo pushed open the glass door leading into the reception area of Sommers Investigative Specialists and stepped inside, with Dean close behind. As soon as she met Melodie’s apologetic gaze from across the room, she knew the confrontation to come with her brother wasn’t going to be an easy one.
The receptionist punched the intercom button on the phone to her right, her gaze drifting to Dean with unabashed curiosity. “Cole, Jo’s back.”
Jo stopped in front of Melodie’s desk, unable to blame the younger woman for doing her job, and knowing without a shadow of doubt that Cole had instructed his secretary to inform him immediately upon Jo’s arrival. “I’m surprised the fire-breathing dragon wasn’t standing guard at the front door,” she said wryly.
Melodie smothered a grin. “He’s definitely been in a mood all morning. Thank God Noah showed up about a half hour ago to turn in his surveillance report on the Blythes’ divorce case—it’s kept both of them in Cole’s office and out of my hair. Before that, he was pacing through the reception area and driving me nuts.”
Seconds later, Cole and Noah emerged from the hallway leading to their individual offices. Cole rushed forward, his stride swift with purpose, while Noah, the more lax of the two, hung back and let their older sibling take charge, as always. While Cole was aggressive in business and even in personal matters, Noah wasn’t one to dive into a predicament without first analyzing the situation from every possible angle.
Jo wasn’t sure which brother she found more unnerving at the moment, considering they were both dissecting Dean in completely opposite ways—Cole with open distrust, and Noah with reserved scrutiny and interest. And then there was Dean, who stood calmly beside her, the tips of his fingers casually pushed into the pockets of his jeans and his stance and expression relaxed. He took Cole’s blatant suspicion in stride, possibly because she’d warned him of her brother’s attitude up-front. At any rate, Dean’s cool, unruffled composure made her want to grin because it seemed to annoy Cole even more.
No introductions were necessary, and since Cole didn’t seem inclined to partake of a friendly handshake with Dean, Jo didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Did you call Vince?”
Cole unclenched his tight jaw. “Yeah, I called him,” he replied gruffly, and transferred his dark blue gaze back to her. “He finds your story just as hard to believe as I do.”
She lifted her chin a few notches, wondering how she’d been so unfortunate as to end up with all the short genes when both of her brothers were over six feet tall. “Then it’s a matter of taking Dean in, getting him fingerprinted, and verifying his credibility, and his identity.”
Cole crossed his arms over his broad chest, his gaze narrowing on Dean. “Yeah, I guess so.”
As if sensing the growing tension between brother and sister and accused felon, Noah stepped forward. “I’ll take him down to the precinct and handle the paperwork to clear his name.”
Cole and Noah had been protecting and sheltering her for so long that it was an automatic reaction for them to step in and take over, despite that Dean was her responsibility. For once, Jo didn’t put up an argument. She didn’t have the energy to spar with either brother, nor did she want to make a scene in front of Dean.
Besides, if she was honest with herself, a part of her was grateful for the reprieve. She needed distance and time away from Dean, to gather her wits and put things back in proper perspective—mentally and emotionally.
“I’m Noah Sommers,” her brother introduced himself. He extended his hand toward the man standing patiently beside her, and Jo appreciated the display of trust Noah, at least, was offering on her behalf.
“Dean Colter.” A half grin canted Dean’s lips as he accepted Noah’s amicable gesture. “But then you already knew that.”
A dark brow lifted in amusement. “But which Dean Colter are you really?” Noah asked, openly joking about his claim of mistaken identity.
Dean chuckled, completely at ease with the situation. “We’ll find out soon enough, now won�
�t we?”
“We certainly will.” Noah withdrew his cell phone from his front pocket and cast Jo and Cole a quick glance before looking at the display. “We’ll be back in a few hours.”
Noah headed for the front door, but Dean didn’t immediately follow. Instead, he turned toward her, his gaze seeking and finding hers. The silence that suddenly descended over the room as everyone waited to hear what he had to say to her was deafening.
“I’ll see you later?” he asked, his tone low and intimate and filled with expectation.
A blush swept across her cheeks, and Jo hated that everyone was privy to that telltale sign. “Sure,” she said, striving for a nonchalance to counteract the flush of awareness heating her skin. She’d see him one last time—to drive him to the airport and send him back to Washington before she fell any harder or deeper for him.
With that promise from her, Dean was out the door and gone, leaving her to deal with Cole’s brooding silence as he stormed off toward his office, and the eager fascination glimmering in Melodie’s eyes. She thought about following her brother and confronting him, but she already knew what he thought and felt—about her and the situation with Dean. He’d made his disapproval abundantly clear, and she knew from past experience there was no reasoning with Cole when his mind was set, so she didn’t even try.
She returned to her private office, planning to spend the rest of the afternoon burying her thoughts in outstanding cases awaiting her attention. Unfortunately, her peaceful, solitary break wasn’t to be granted. Before she had the opportunity to sit down in the chair behind her desk, Melodie slipped into her office after a quick knock on the door.
“You had a few calls this morning,” she said, waving the pink message slips she held in her hand.
“Thank you.” Jo accepted the notes and glanced through the messages, penned in Melodie’s neat, efficient handwriting. None were urgent or important, thank goodness.