Colton's Secret Investigation

by Justine Davis

  And she couldn’t think of a thing else to say.

  “You told me Aisha made Trey make the first move, and you approved.”

  “That’s different.”

  “Is it?” Something in his expression changed then, and when he spoke, his voice was softer. “So, when this case is over, we just go back to our regular jobs, our regular lives? Forget about...this?”

  He leaned in then. Slowly, giving her a chance to pull away, to dodge.

  She did neither.

  And when his mouth—that mouth that could create that smile that melted her—came down on hers, the heat that had been building in her exploded, sending fire along every nerve.

  She felt a moment of stunned shock. She’d lived forty-two years, some of them hard, some of them wonderful, but she had never in her life felt anything like this. Faint echoes of it, yes, and she’d thought that’s all there was to it. But this...this was as if those prior feelings had been tiny candles leading to this impossibly deep, impossibly rich explosion of sensation.

  And it was just a kiss.

  Even as she thought it she dismissed the idea jubilantly. This was no mere kiss—this was fire as surely as the one going in her fireplace. No, not just fire, because it was hotter, more insistent than mere warming fire. This was...inferno. Conflagration.

  And she, who had ever and always been cautious, flung herself into it without hesitation.

  An awareness of how solid and strong he was came to her. She’d known it before just by looking, but now she knew, because she was touching. Sliding her hands over him so eagerly it would have embarrassed her had she been capable of such an emotion just now. But she wasn’t. There was no room for anything except this blazing heat and the sensations the feel of him erupted in her.

  He deepened the kiss, stole her breath. It didn’t matter, because he was touching her in turn now, and having those big, strong hands stroking her so gently was more fuel to the blaze. He cupped her breasts, and she instinctively arched toward him, a tiny moan escaping her. His thumbs rubbed over nipples already achingly taut, and this time his name broke from her on a gasping breath.

  He broke the kiss, and she felt a shudder go through him.

  “If you’re going to say stop, say it now,” he said, his voice sounding hoarse and strained.

  “No.” It was all she could manage. Another shudder, and he started to pull away. She realized what he thought she’d meant. She grabbed at him, tried to hold him close. “I meant...no, not saying stop.”

  She looked up at him, and what she saw in those gorgeous eyes had her breathing even more quickly. “Daria by firelight,” he whispered. “I can’t think of anything more beautiful.”

  And she knew it was going to happen, right here, right now. And it felt so right, so good that her heart began to hammer in her chest, her body rising to the promise in those eyes.

  She didn’t know or care who undressed who—all she knew for sure was that she wanted to see him, all of him, wanted to run her hands over every inch of him, wanted to claim him in whatever way she could. And when they’d untangled themselves from their clothes, something seemed to snap inside her. Triggered by the simple fact that he was power and strength made visible, that he was even more magnificent than she’d imagined, need rocketed through her.

  Once unleashed, her hunger overwhelmed her and she was stroking, kissing, even nipping at him, everywhere she could reach. She’d become some wild thing that astonished her. She was glad he’d thought of a condom, because she certainly hadn’t.

  She heard him swear, low and deep and heartfelt, that gruff, rumbling male voice kicking her pulse up a notch higher. And then he’d scooped her up and taken them both to the soft rug on the floor in a smooth flow that spoke of the power in that big body. The beautifully sculpted body that, for now at least, was hers to touch, to caress, to ravish.

  The body that moments later was surging into her, the ease of his passage telling her the truth of how much she wanted this man. And then he was in her, stretching her until she would have sworn she couldn’t take any more. But he kept on, until the exquisite sensation made her cry out at the joy of having that empty place inside her filled.

  He said her name, low and harsh, and she knew she would carry the sound of it in some sacred part of her mind forever. She felt a shudder go through him, felt his entire body go rigid.

  “Can’t go slow,” he ground out. “This has been building too long.”

  “I know,” she whispered and lifted her hips to him.

  And then he was moving, stroking, caressing as he withdrew and plunged deeper, until she was crying out with every thrust. He drove her higher and higher, his hands seemingly everywhere, his mouth on her lips, her cheek, her neck, all while the rhythm he set nearly drove her mad.

  And then he reached between them, to where they were joined. He stroked with a single finger once, twice, and she reached that peak of madness. Every nerve in her body seemed suddenly to lead to that place, and they all fired at once. Her body clenched, then exploded, so fiercely all she could do was wrap herself around him and hang on.

  Chapter 21

  Well, having your first wild, crazy sex in the middle of the day was one way to avoid the dreaded morning after, Stefan thought.

  He kept his eyes closed. He was full of so many sensations he was having trouble sorting them out. Uppermost was the feel of Daria draped over him, her skin as silken as he’d known it would be. She felt good. More than good. He thought he might just lie here forever with her delicious weight on him. Well, maybe eventually move to a bed. Her bed. His bed. He didn’t care, he just wanted more. Much, much more.

  He’d gone a little crazy with her. Or maybe she’d made him a little crazy. He wasn’t sure which, wasn’t sure it mattered. All he knew for certain was that he’d never felt anything in his life like sex with this woman. And he had the feeling it was just as much because of who she was—smart, determined, quick, kind—as it was because she was so damned intoxicating. But whichever it was, she’d fried every nerve in his body.

  And in that moment when he’d exploded inside her, he hadn’t been a hundred percent sure he’d survive it. Nor did he care, because that would be a hell of a way to go.

  He realized abruptly he was almost falling asleep. A warning bell went off in the back of his mind, that this was not a good thing to do the first time with a woman. Especially one you genuinely cared about. But he hadn’t been sleeping much lately, and she felt so damned good, naked against him. So good that even now, even just moments later, other parts of him were declaring rather fervently that sleep was not on the agenda.

  He wasn’t surprised at that. What he was surprised at was himself. Because he was lying here thinking a guy could face almost anything if he had this waiting for him every night. Or afternoon, he amended with an inward smile. But the image conjured by those two words, every night, lingered in his mind. And the thought of a never-ending stretch of moments like this filled a place inside him that he’d never even known existed, let alone that it was empty.

  Maybe it hadn’t existed, until he’d met her.

  “Why did we wait so long?”

  He hadn’t really realized he’d spoken it aloud until her head came up. “Because it complicates things,” she said, and the husky note in her voice completed what the feel of her skin had begun—his body started clamoring for a replay.

  “Regrets?” he asked, carefully keeping his tone neutral as he thought maybe he hadn’t avoided the morning-after minefield after all.

  But a slow, pleased-looking smile curved that mouth that had driven him to that crazy state. “No. It does complicate things, but no.”

  Belatedly it struck him that it wouldn’t complicate things unless she expected it to continue, would it? So she wasn’t going to pull away, change her mind? Relief at that flooded him, because he couldn’t understand how anyb
ody could not want more and more of this.

  It did complicate things, but only logistically. Between this case and Sam, free time was at a premium. But relegating what they’d just discovered together to only that minimum of free time seemed...impossible.

  “I want more,” he declared.

  “I noticed,” she said with a grin that made him feel oddly light even as she left a fiery trail along his body when she slipped her hand downward to curl around flesh already eager for a repeat. “Hard not to.”

  “Hard’s the word all right,” he growled, and he had to fight not to roll her under him right now. “But I meant more than just today. And more than just until the end of this case.”

  “Stefan—”

  “Don’t even try, unless you’ve got better excuses than before.”

  “But—”

  He stopped her with a feverish kiss, giving in to the demands of a body that had nearly begun to shout, “What are you waiting for?” She was the one with the excuses, so if he had to show her again why they didn’t matter, he would. Happily.

  He forced himself to take it slower this time, vowing to himself he’d make her crazy for it before he slid into her welcoming heat. He wanted to hear her cry out his name again, wanted her legs wrapped around him, wanted her fingers digging into his back, wanted to feel the incredible clasping of her body as she climaxed around him.

  He blazed paths with his hands, traced every luscious curve, then followed with his mouth until she was moaning, twisting under his touch, his kisses, his tongue. She was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted, and on some gut-deep level he knew he would never, ever get enough of her. That should have rattled him, but it didn’t; it only filled him with a joy he’d never known and a soaring feeling that he finally, finally understood.

  And in the end, she didn’t cry out his name—she screamed it as her body bucked beneath him, and the feel of her sent him hurtling over the edge right after her. And he thought he must have shouted her name as he went.

  It was much later, in the dancing light of the fire, that she gave him a shyly wondering look. “I’ve...never been like that. I’m not sure what got into me.”

  “I’ll refrain from making the obvious joke,” he said, grinning at her.

  She blushed slightly, just enough for him to see beneath the color of her skin. He found the fact that she was blushing beautiful. In fact, he couldn’t think of a damn thing about her he didn’t find beautiful.

  And he didn’t feel the slightest urge to back off, the way he always had with any other woman since his hideously faulty judgment about Leah. He’d worked beside this woman for three months; he’d seen her smarts, her dedication and her integrity. If he was wrong about Daria, then he should just give up altogether. And he wasn’t going to give up. Wasn’t going to give her up. He wanted it all, no matter what they had to do, how they had to arrange things.

  “I was serious,” she said after a moment when she’d regained her composure. Which, considering they were sprawled naked on her great room floor, was saying something. “I have never, ever been like this.”

  “I’m glad. Because you blew circuits I didn’t even know I had.” When she gave him a fleeting look that was almost bashful, he shook his head. “No inhibitions. Not with us. We blew right past that.”

  “Apparently,” she said, with just a touch of wryness that told him she was regaining her humor, too.

  When his cell phone chimed an alarm, he was startled. Because he only had one for today—the one he’d set when he’d sent Sam off with the Alvarezes. He scrambled over to the spot on the floor where their clothes lay as entangled as they had been, and tugged it out of a pocket. He’d been half convinced he’d set the time wrong, because it couldn’t possibly be—

  It was.

  “Time to go get Sam?” she asked, getting to her feet and, sadly, reaching for her own clothes.

  “Unbelievably, yes. Although I’ve got a little margin, because when I set this I assumed I’d be coming from...my place.”

  “Lucky you’re here, then.”

  He covered the short distance between them in one stride, grabbed her shoulders. When she was looking up at him, he said solemnly, “I have never, ever been luckier.”

  Again she blushed slightly, and he wondered what the hell was wrong with whatever men had been in her life that such a simple compliment got to her so.

  “And here I was thinking I was the lucky one.”

  “Remember that,” he said, rather fiercely, “the next time those excuses float through your mind.”

  Chapter 22

  Daria watched as Trey Colton drummed his fingers on his desk. That was the only outward sign of tension, despite the fact that tomorrow was the day that would determine the course of the rest of his life. Election day.

  “I read your reports,” he said, looking across at her and Stefan. “Great work, both of you.”

  “It’s finally going to be over,” Daria murmured.

  “We have to find him first, but yes, it is,” Stefan agreed. His gaze shifted from her to Trey. “And maybe just in time. You could put word out that we know who the Avalanche Killer is now. Before tomorrow.”

  Trey’s brows rose. “The election, you mean.”

  Stefan nodded. “It would be big, favorable news.”

  Trey looked affronted. “And could well spook Shruggs into running, lose us the chance to nail this guy, put him away for good. That’s more important than any damn election.”

  Stefan smiled as if this was the answer he’d expected. “And that, Sheriff, is why I’ll be voting for you tomorrow.”

  Daria saw a slight smile play across her boss’s lips. “Just go find this miserable excuse for a human being, all right?”

  “Yes, sir,” they both said.

  “Thank you for that,” Daria whispered as they left Trey’s office.

  “Just confirming I was voting for who I thought I was voting for,” Stefan said easily.

  “What if he’d gone the other way? He never would, but what if?”

  “Then I’d be voting for the lesser of two evils, which I hate, so I’m very glad he didn’t.”

  And that little scene, Daria thought, told her a great deal about both of these men.

  As they walked to the back of the station, toward the parking area, she said, “I meant to ask, how’s Sam?”

  “Remarkably compliant,” Stefan answered as they got into his car for the ride to The Lodge. “Obviously the answer is keep him exhausted.”

  She laughed. “I talked to Fiona last night—she said he did marvelously. Even Casey likes him, which from his vastly superior position of two years older is saying something.”

  That wasn’t all Fiona had said, of course. A great deal of the conversation had been taken up with the fact that apparently Sam had chattered even more about her than his father. And, Fiona being Fiona, with teasingly probing questions about how on earth Daria managed to resist the tall, dark and gorgeous Stefan.

  And now that she’d stopped resisting, she wasn’t sure how to answer that. Except that she couldn’t be unhappy about it. How could she possibly be unhappy about anything that made her feel so darn good?

  She warned herself against making incredible sex into something more, something it wasn’t. Warned herself against hoping this was the start of something bigger, longer lasting. Because once this case was over—and thank God it appeared it might actually be, finally—there would be no reason for them to spend so much time together, unless that itself was the purpose. And she was afraid to even hope for that.

  I meant more than just today. And more than just until the end of this case.

  His words played back in her head, and she felt a tiny shiver inside. He couldn’t have been much clearer, so why did she doubt him? Why did she assume he didn’t mean it?

  You know why. Bec
ause you haven’t told him the truth, haven’t told him who you really are, and it could change everything.

  She thought back to their conversation about the pressure of the Coltons being involved in this case, and his rather pragmatic assumption that Colton pressure was why Trey had asked the FBI to step in.

  Contrary to what some think, we don’t always go around butting into local affairs if we’re not asked.

  When he’d said it, she’d merely observed that a lot of people made a lot of assumptions, and there was a good chance half of them were wrong. He’d laughed, commented her estimate might be a little low, and they’d moved on. At least, he had; the truth of what he’d said, and the secret she was keeping, had been nagging at her ever since.

  But it had to wait. Because right now they were close, so close to ending this nightmare that she barely wanted to stop to breathe, let alone have what would likely be a long and possibly devastating conversation. At least, as far as her relationship with this man went. A relationship she very much wanted but had doubts would survive.

  The trip to The Lodge was silent, although Stefan kept giving her sideways glances as he drove.

  “Problem?” she finally asked.

  “Not unless you have one,” he said. “It’s just, you’re...quiet.”

  “Antsy,” she clarified. “We’re so close, and yet...”

  “I’m glad it’s the case you’re thinking about.”

  And not...us? Did they qualify as an us now? He was certainly acting like it. And on some level, she knew it was her own guilty conscience that had her thinking anything other than that he’d meant what he’d said. He wanted more, and he wanted it beyond the end of this case.

  But he doesn’t know...and given who he works for, it could matter.

  “When this is over,” she began, but she had no idea where to go from there and so the words hung in the air unfinished.