by Jo Davis
“Daisy, you’re hurt—”
“I’m more than okay, and I want you. Please.”
Indecision warred with desire, then he stood. The towel had loosened so that it rode low on his hips, and the proof of his arousal had made a sizable tent underneath. A tantalizing thatch of dark hair peeked over the cloth.
“Take it off me, sugar.”
The husky command sent a delicious shiver through her. She searched his handsome face for a trace of the laughing, teasing Shane she knew. This man wasn’t him. Something dark and dangerous lurked behind his eyes, an eerie sense that the man about to make love to her wasn’t Shane at all. Anticipation tingled along her spine, and an aching warmth unfurled between her thighs.
The towel slid off easily, and she let it drop to the bed. Oh, lord. He was two hundred pounds of naked, masculine perfection. Well, nearly perfect. A small circular scar on his abdomen marked where a bullet had come close to ending his life. Her world would have crumbled that day if it had.
His shaft jutted proudly at the apex of his muscled thighs, daring her to touch . . . and she wasn’t strong enough to resist. She curled her fingers around his velvety length, and he groaned.
Scooting closer, she slid her hand in a slow pumping motion, enjoying the way he sucked in his breath, body tightening in response. Emboldened, she cupped his sac, rubbing, enjoying the weight of it. She looked up at Shane, and the feral desire etched on his face scorched her to her toes.
“Do you want me?” he demanded.
“Yes,” she managed.
“Sweetheart, I’m yours.”
She dipped her head and tasted. The tip of him was fine silk, a salty pearl delight. She licked the drop away, then let her tongue explore the rest inch by inch. Tracing the ridge underneath, she worked her way to his balls and laved them. Shane buried his hands in her hair, careful of her head, and cried out.
“Oh! Oh, honey . . . Yes, yes!”
Daisy took him in her mouth, sucking deeply, relishing this feeling of power as he quivered. Shane’s voice, hoarse with passion, brought her such pleasure.
“Oh, God, stop. Raise your arms.”
She did, and he grabbed the edge of her T-shirt and yanked it over her head, baring her. Totally. Daisy had never liked sleeping in underwear, preferring freedom instead. Shane’s face darkened and he growled low in his throat.
“Lie back.”
Daisy settled on the pillows, watching him. He gripped her knees and spread her legs, moved between them, then released her.
“Wider,” he coaxed. His hot gaze lifted to hers as she complied. “That’s it, baby, let me see you, taste you. My turn.”
He dipped his head and trailed the inside of her thigh with his tongue, until he found her center. Delicious shockwaves of erotic pleasure radiated through her limbs to her fingers and toes as he flicked her. She squirmed under him, craving more. More . . .
Shane laughed, a deep baritone sound of male satisfaction. “Like that, do you?”
“Yes!”
“Want more?”
“Please . . .”
With a low groan, he rose to his knees, lifting her hips in his strong hands as though she weighed no more than a feather. Only her shoulders rested on the bed. Though he supported her easily, she admired how the position emphasized the corded muscles in his chest and arms. He gazed down at her, lips turned up in a knowing half-smile, an expression oozing with raw sexuality.
When Shane spoke, his voice was a sensual caress. “I’m going to feast until you scream, sweet girl. Until you beg me to fuck you. And even then I won’t stop unless I’ve tasted every last drop.”
Words failed Daisy and her heart pounded. Shane was such a sexual creature. Never in her wildest, most torrid fantasies had she dared to dream that he might one day be hers. Even when they’d been together before, there had been doubt. That was fading away, almost to a distant memory. He brought her to him and nibbled gently, unraveling her thread by thread. The shock waves became warm pools, bathing her. His teeth grazed her again and again, heating her blood until she began to whimper.
“Oh, please!” She tugged at his hair, trying to pull him closer. He chuckled and answered her plea, fastening his mouth on her. A tidal wave of sensations carried her away in a languorous sea. He suckled, licked, and she gave herself to him completely. Tremors began to shake her as she watched him love her that way, the lamplight playing off his sable brown hair, his face buried in her soft folds. Giving and taking.
“Tell me what you want.”
“You know.”
“Say the words.”
His sex talk was sending her over the edge, stripping her inhibitions. “Fuck me.”
“Not yet. Come for me, sugar. That’s it.”
She came undone with a sharp cry, flew apart with the force of her orgasm, and he drank deeply, lapping her honey until she was certain he’d taken his fill. She was wrong. As she drifted back to earth, he lowered her to the bed once more, then covered her body with his. To her amazement, the feel of their naked skin pressed together rekindled the fire.
Shane brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “I can’t get enough of you.” He kissed her, a hard, possessive kiss, rich with their mingled sex. “Taste us? I’ll carry the essence of you on my lips until the day I die.”
Tears stung her eyes. “Oh, Shane—”
“Shh, sweetheart. Let me give you what we’ve both wanted for so long.” Quickly, he rolled on a condom.
She gasped as he plunged inside her. Already slick and wet from his attentions, she sheathed him smoothly. His rigid shaft impaled her, and she realized that he’d made his entry easier for her by pleasuring her first. His strong arms braced on either side of her head, he began to pump his hips, riding her in a slow grinding motion, his length stroking her sensitized bud.
“Ohhh.” Wicked pleasure unfurled between her legs. He increased the tempo, slamming into her harder, faster. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she arched her back, allowing him to fill her as deeply as possible.
“Mine,” he whispered against her. “Say it.”
“Yes, yours. Shane,” she said.
Relentless, he drove into her with long strokes. The fire consumed her, burning out of control until she met his thrusts with mindless abandon. She clung to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, the rhythmic slap of their sweat-slickened bodies bringing her to the brink of climax.
“Daisy, baby, I can’t stop—”
With a hoarse cry, Shane crushed her to his chest and buried himself to the hilt. The volcanic force of their release rocked them, and they remained locked together as the hot rush of his seed spilled into her. Spasms shook them in rolling waves that gradually gentled, leaving them trembling in each other’s arms.
For several minutes neither of them made a move to separate. He seemed content to hold her, which was more than fine with Daisy. If she could, she’d keep him inside her forever.
“Wow,” he breathed, smiling down at her.
The effect short-circuited her brain. With his too-long brown hair falling into sparkling gray eyes, he was devastatingly handsome. And his gorgeous smile was genuine, all for her, just the way she’d always dreamed.
Please, please let the doubts stay away. Let him be mine.
“Yeah, wow,” she smiled back.
He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “You’re beautiful, Daisy. Inside and out. I’m just sorry I didn’t take off my blinders a hell of a lot sooner. Months ago.”
Her spirits soared. He’d said it before, but that she was finally beginning to believe him was a major victory. “Me, too.”
Shane laughed, then slipped out of her and rolled to his back. A sharp sense of loss stabbed her with disappointment, but he pulled her with him, cradling her body against his. She sank into him with a contented sigh.
From the moment she’d first laid eyes on Shane years ago, she hadn’t been able to shake the feeling, silly as it seemed, that this sexy man was hers. Or wo
uld be eventually. She’d clung to that feeling for years. That he only needed time to come to his senses. To see her as more than a friend and colleague.
Now that he had, she was damned afraid of something happening to ruin her happiness.
• • •
Carl Eastlake snapped the Sunday newspaper closed, curling his lip at yet another article lionizing the poor, tragic figure of Brad Cooper. What a friend, what a committed dad, what a supporter of charities, what a great all-around guy.
“What an insecure, aging asshole holdin’ on to his youth by chemical means,” Carl said, laughing. “You bought the lie because you had the money.”
On the table next to his coffee cup, his cell phone rang and he glanced at the display. Sanders, that pain in the ass. He picked up, already annoyed before the man said a word. “Yeah?”
“Carl, we gotta talk.”
“No, we really don’t. Just do your job and I’ll do mine. End of story.” Picking up a nearby pen, he began to doodle a stick figure in the margin of the newspaper. Just for grins he tried to make it look like Irvin Sanders, with glasses and a little goatee.
“No. I want a meeting face-to-face,” Sanders insisted. “We have to work out the kinks in this thing before we broaden our client base. I insist. Otherwise, I may have to take my skills elsewhere.”
“Is that so?” he inquired pleasantly. That alone should’ve been a clue, should’ve made the man leave town in the dead of night. “In that case, I’m all ears. I’m busy this coming week, so let’s do a week from Thursday, the usual time and place. Call Johnson and tell him.”
He wasn’t that busy, but irritating Sanders made him happy. Without waiting for an answer, Carl ended the call and set the phone aside. Humming, he continued his doodling, finishing his artwork with a big X over the figure he’d drawn.
Stupid. Meddling. Fucker.
So hard to get good help these days, and all that shit. Sanders had been bitching about the product ever since the NFL star had dropped dead. Of course, two other clients had died since then. The papers just hadn’t picked up on those, since they were nobodies. But they were nobodies with the money to buy the lie, and that’s all Carl cared about.
So what if their illustrious clients were killed by their own stupidity? Who in the hell were they going to complain to? The law of averages ensured one simple thing.
There would always be one dumb-ass more than ready with the cash.
11
“So, what’s the scoop on you and Daisy?”
Shane glanced at the office door beyond Taylor, making sure it was still firmly closed. His relationship with Daisy was now the worst-kept secret in the department, and he was surprised they hadn’t been called in to Austin’s office yet. He figured it was only a matter of time, though, and one of them would end up reassigned. Or worse.
Wouldn’t that be fun?
He considered lying to his friend for about one second. “I guess the rumors are flying thick and fast, huh?”
“Uh, yeah,” Taylor responded, arching a dark blond brow. “The question is, are they true? Don’t put me off this time. I want an answer.”
He sighed. “If you’ve heard we’re going at it like rabbits and trying to figure out what exactly to label our status, then yes. All true.”
“Jesus, when you decide to complicate your life, you really go balls to the wall. Has Rainey said anything to either of you?”
“Not yet, but I doubt it’ll take him long once he decides this isn’t going away.”
“It’s not? This is the real deal?”
“For me it is,” he said. “But I hurt her pretty bad once before, and that’s not something any woman forgets easily, especially Daisy.”
“True. She doesn’t strike me as the type to play games. Unlike Leslie.”
“Ugh. Don’t mention her name to me. I’m having a hard enough time trying to shake her off my trail as it is.”
“She harassing you?”
“Not as such. She’s not offering anything I didn’t welcome before, so I can’t really blame her.”
“Which I’m sure thrills Daisy to no end. Where is she, by the way?”
“She went home. The captain put her on half-days for the week until her stitches come out and she gets a doctor’s note. Of course, she insisted she was feeling well enough to work full shifts, but he put his foot down.”
In fact, she’d gone to her home, not his. He wasn’t very happy about it, but he had no real say in where she stayed. There was Drew to think of, too, and even though the boy said he was cool with Daisy staying there all the time if she wanted, he was determined to build a real family environment for them all. One based on love and commitment.
Even if his ideals twisted his libido into a pretzel in the process.
“Well, if anyone deserves to be happy, it’s two of my favorite people,” Taylor said. “I hope everything works out.”
“Thanks. It’s starting to look like it just might.”
A knock sounded on the door, and the captain poked in his head. “Am I interrupting?”
Taylor turned in his chair and grinned. “Indeed you are. Come back later so we can continue to pretend to be extremely busy.”
Austin snorted, pushing inside. “Listen up, slackers. We got a call from one of our informants. Claims he knows something about the body out on I-49. I need you two on this now, so get your lazy carcasses up and go talk to him.”
Shane rose, checked his weapon in his holster, and grabbed his jacket. “On it, Cap. What’s his name and where can we find him?”
“He’s a street kid named Blake who likes to hang around down by the river, under the bridge. Petty thief with a rap sheet consisting mostly of misdemeanors for stealing food. Keeps his ear to the ground to give us tidbits so he can earn a little money for a meal without having to swipe it.”
“Sounds like you know him pretty well,” Taylor observed.
“He went to the high school, graduated last year right before his parents kicked him out. His parents were never stellar examples of kindness and understanding, but when he came out as gay, they came unglued.”
Taylor practically growled. “That sucks. People like that shouldn’t be allowed to breed.”
Shane frowned. “He doesn’t have friends he can stay with? Any other family?”
“Not that I’ve been able to learn, and, believe me, I’ve tried. He’s not one to accept handouts, either.”
“He’d rather steal than swallow his pride?” Taylor shook his head. “That’s a teenager for you.”
“I don’t think it’s pride so much as he’s afraid. He honestly doesn’t trust very easily, so it’s safer for him to keep to the shadows.”
Until someone hurt him, or worse. They were all thinking it, Shane knew. “We’ll touch base with him. And if we can get him to go to a church or the city shelter, we will.”
“Good luck with that.” The captain left, waving a hand, off to see to other business.
Shane and Taylor made their way out to Taylor’s car, and Taylor headed in the direction of the old bridge. The kid was supposed to be waiting, but Shane was skeptical. Informants tended to be skittish, given their poor life expectancy if any of the criminals they were ratting on found out. If they caught a whiff of anything different or wrong, they vanished like smoke.
Downtown, they turned at the square and started down the road leading to the bridge. As they got closer, he kept an eye peeled for Blake. Shouldn’t be tough to spot, as there wasn’t anyone else in that area in the middle of the week and nearing sunset. How the boy had managed to survive the worst of the winter was beyond Shane. He shuddered to think of Drew in the same situation.
“There,” Taylor said, pointing to the opposite bank. Just underneath the arch of the support beams, where the strong metal met the concrete pillars, stood a lone figure.
As the car drew closer and crossed to the other side, Shane lost sight of the boy for a few seconds. But as Taylor brought them around to park next
to the riverbank, Blake stepped from the protective shadow of the bridge.
At somewhere around nineteen, he was smaller than Drew. Slim and fragile-looking, as though he might shatter at a cross word, much less a fist or some other weapon. His jeans were dirty, his coat in tatters. His shoulder-length brown hair was tangled, and his eyes were huge in his face. Also brown, Shane saw as they approached. Big, sad doe eyes that had already seen the worst his world had to offer.
“I’m Detective Shane Ford, and this is my partner, Detective Taylor Kayne,” he said in what he hoped was a pleasant tone. He showed the boy his badge, and Taylor did the same. “Our captain, Austin Rainey, sent us here to speak with you. Said you may have something interesting to tell us.”
Some of the fear left the boy’s face, but he was watchful. Not just of them, but of their surroundings. He scanned the entire area before relaxing some. “I heard these guys bragging last night outside by the Waterin’ Hole. They didn’t see me, ’cause I was around the side of the building.”
“What were you doing there?”
The boy gave Taylor a sharp look. “Not selling my ass, if that’s what you were thinking. I’m homeless, not stupid.” He took a deep breath. “The manager there is cool, gives me a burger or sandwich when he’s on shift in the evening. That’s all.”
“We believe you,” Shane soothed. “What did the men say?”
“They were talking about the man that was found with the bullet in his head. Which isn’t unusual, since stuff like that is big news. But these guys were saying how it was too bad he got his squeaky wheel greased, and the rest of them should keep their mouths shut and do their jobs. They were talking about receiving a shipment, taking their shit on the street. Here in town, specifically.”
Excitement sparked along Shane’s nerves. “You got a name, a time, or a place?”
“No names. But they set up a meet with the supplier for tonight, midnight, down by the dam where the barges go through.”
“You mean the lock,” Taylor clarified.
“Yeah.”
Shane exchanged a look with his partner. “Shit.”