Mastiff Security: The Complete 5 Books Series

by Glenna Sinclair

  She laughed and moaned all at once when he set his teeth against her mound, putting just enough pressure on her sweet-smelling core to show her that he was the one in charge. Her hands pressed themselves into his hair, tugging at him as though she thought he would stop now that he’d gotten started. But then she was pulling him tighter against her, another moan slipping from between her lips as his bottom teeth scraped over that spot where, hidden under her thong, her clit resided.

  She lifted her hips quite willingly as he began to tug at the thong, pulling it slowly down over her thighs. He moved slowly as much to torture himself as her. He wanted to take his time. Too often these past few years he’d rushed through this act, wanting it over before it had even begun. But not now. Now he wanted to savor the moans that came from her lips, wanted to savor the taste and the feel of her, wanted to savor the feel of her heat wrapping itself around him. Anticipation was everything. He wanted this to last for as long as possible.

  The thong discarded somewhere behind him, he rested his hands just above her knees and studied her long, muscular legs, legs that deserved to be on display, not hidden under linen pants and long, wool skirts. He studied her hips, the definition of bone that was completely obscured by the layers of clothing she wore on a daily basis. And the smooth mound that was beautifully sculpted, both by God and her razor, the hair thin and pale, cut perfectly into a straight line that pointed right to the swollen clit bursting out of its hood between the thick folds of her lips.

  So beautiful!

  He kissed those thick lips, drawing small corners between his teeth and nibbling lightly before releasing her and moving to a new spot to do the same, repeating himself all along her outer lips until her fingers were twisted in his hair, and she was tugging him upward, begging with her moans and her touch for him to give her the release they both so desperately needed. He used his tongue at first, moistening the spot and then breathing softly on it, making her arch her back, moans thick and deep filling the air around him.

  He loved that sound.

  When he took her into his mouth, the silence spoke volumes. She moved her hips against him, her fingers tugging and pulling, guiding him to those places that were desperate for his attention. He offered her everything he had to give, drawing in every ounce of sweetness she offered, loving the taste of her, loving the excitement of the pleasure he was offering her. He wanted to make her cum, wanted to know that it was his touch that drove her far enough out of her comfort zone that she could experience the almost spiritual awareness that came with an orgasm. He wanted to break the studied professional facade she wore like a mask. He wanted to know what was underneath.

  Her thighs began to tremble whenever she got close. When he felt that, he’d back off, nibble at her lips again, even raise his head to press a kiss to her bare belly, her full lips. He liked the way she kissed him, the way her tongue slipped over his to taste her own juices on him. It had to be the ultimate aphrodisiac. And when she would look at him, that heat in her eyes, it made his balls tighten painfully with the need that had come to live there.

  He returned to her button, let her squirm under him. Her stomach tightened and she held her breath, little gasps escaping as she rode the wave closer and closer to her end. Her juices flowed over his tongue, tingling there as he nibbled at her clit, as he slipped his finger inside of her and touched those spots that had the power to drive her out of her mind. And it did, he could see it written on her face as a low scream finally slipped between her lips and she closed her legs, holding his hand in place, her body stiff with the need to keep everything exactly how it was.

  How long had it been since he’d watched a woman move through the beautiful cycle of an orgasm? How long had it been since he cared enough to want to watch this moment?

  He leaned over her, moved his hand slightly as he pressed his lips to her ear.

  “Let it go,” he whispered. “Feel it.”

  She turned her head toward him, the movement knocking her glasses from her face. He studied her, took in the high cheekbones and the narrow nose, the slight almond shape of her perfect eyes that were all too often hidden behind her glasses. Homely is how he would have described her three years ago when he first met her. But now? Now he thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met.

  He peppered her jaw with kisses as her breathing slowed, as she slowly came back to him. He bit her throat, made a little moan come from between her lips. He waited until she opened her eyes to kiss those perfect lips, waiting until she was ready to take him to her, her body molding itself against his as he slid his hand over her ass, guiding her hips to his.

  They kissed long and slow, half on the couch, half falling to the floor. Her hands slipped under his suit coat, her fingers slipping under the belted waist of his slacks. His erection pounded, aching for her touch. She knew what she was doing, this little vixen in her good girl clothing, her fingers teasing as they brushed against his lower belly, but refused to move near his aching cock. It was his turn to suffer from anticipation, his turn to feel the excitement and the tugging need, his turn to want with a need that could or could not be met.

  “Don’t tease me, Gracie,” he whispered roughly against her lips.

  The sound of her name seemed to pull her out of the moment, her eyes darkening slightly as she looked at him. He tilted his head, confused by her reaction, wondering for a second if he’d misspoke. Had he called her Sarah by mistake?

  He didn’t think he had.

  A pounding came on the door as Gracie began untangling herself from him, bumping her head against his as she reached down for her thong.

  “Stop,” he said, grabbing at her arm to keep her from going.

  “We’re at work. We shouldn’t . . .”

  The office door opened and Heidi came strolling in, Axel and Calder on her heels. Gracie was already halfway to the door, her thong disappearing in a pocket he didn’t even realize she had. Her hair was always a little undone, her glasses almost always slightly askew, so nothing about her seemed off to anyone. But Durango knew something was going on with her and he didn’t quite understand what it was.

  Why had she reacted that way? Had he said the wrong thing?

  “We need to talk about the tech budget,” Axel announced, nodding to Gracie as she left the room. “We need more of those cameras, and they tell me they don’t have the budget . . .”

  Durango sighed as he stood slowly, his erection slowly disappearing out the door with Gracie. If he followed her, would she deny him still? The taste of her lingered on his tongue, the ache still strong and refusing to abate. What the hell had he done wrong?

  But with the disappearing erection came a small dose of reality as he moved behind his desk and saw an email from his lawyer on the screen. The subject line was: Rape Charges.

  His life was so complicated right now. He couldn’t get involved with anyone, especially not someone who made him feel the way Gracie did. It would only offer a new victim to the strangler, and he couldn’t do that.

  Not for Gracie as much for himself. He couldn’t survive losing another person who made him feel that alive, who gave him a reason to fight. He’d lost so much already. He couldn’t do it again.

  Chapter 9

  Springfield, Illinois

  Kelly Hobart’s Apartment

  Kelly stood in front of the mirror and adjusted the way her hair hung from the back of her head, trying to decide if a ponytail or a loose bun would look better. She hated having her hair in her face when she was reading, but she didn’t like the way her face looked when her hair was pulled too tight. Normally she wouldn’t worry this much about it, but both Ryder and Dane were going to be there. And both men made her heart race for very different reasons.

  Ryder was her husband. They’d been schoolmates since junior high, lovers since high school. She couldn’t remember a moment of her life when he wasn’t there—with exception of the past two years, of course—and she knew deep in her heart that he would forever
be her first and only true love.

  But Dane was tall and handsome and so different from Ryder.

  Men had flirted with Kelly before, during, and after her relationship with Ryder, but none of them made her blush the way Dane did. And when he touched her arm or brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes, sparks flew between them that made her wonder what it would be like to lie with a man who wasn’t Ryder.

  Kelly had never been with anyone other than Ryder. He was her first kiss, her first boyfriend, her first lover. Their relationship was such a cliché. They’d spent their first night together on prom night, lying to their parents about a party at a friend’s and renting a hotel room for the event. They spent less than an hour at the dance, preferring to be alone rather than hanging out with a bunch of high school kids who were more interested in getting drunk than looking forward to a future that could be made or broken on a night like that.

  He’d made it romantic, sprinkling rose petals on the sheets that had stuck to her naked back and ordering chocolate covered strawberries from room service that ended up melting. It seemed like everything that could go wrong had, but then he touched her and it all disappeared, everything but him and the way it made her feel when they lay together on that big, king-sized bed.

  That was the way it always was with Ryder. He could make the world disappear with just a word, a touch. When her dad had surgery, when her sister ran away, when things turned sour, he was there with a touch, a word, and she knew it would turn out all right. She wanted to be that for him when things went wrong, but her touch didn’t seem to have the same magic for him. His bruises were too much of a reminder, the press at their door and the lies circulating on the Internet too much to overcome. She wasn’t enough for him, and he made that pretty clear the day he walked out.

  “I’m poison to everyone around me, Kelly. I can’t stay.”

  She wanted to hate him for those words, wanted to hate him for what he’d done, but she’d loved him for so long that she didn’t know how to hate him. Instead, she gave up everything she’d ever known and followed him, unable to let go of the spark of hope that lived in her heart.

  But even that spark was beginning to go out.

  And Dane was handsome.

  Maybe it was time to move on with her life.

  She pulled her hair up into a sloppy bun, catching it with a clip. She leaned forward and drew an outline around her lips with a thin pencil, carefully filling it with a glossy lipstick that made her lips look fuller than they were. A little mascara and a touch of eyeliner and she was satisfied with the way she looked. She wore a white blouse that hooked around her neck and left most of her back bare; a bra was out of the question. She worried that a cold breeze would make her bralessness too obvious, but consoled herself with the thin cardigan she planned to wear. Black slacks hugged her hips in the right way, making her legs look longer than they were. Black pumps accented her slender ankles. She hung a pair of gold earrings from her earlobes, pleased with the way they dangled against her long neck.

  She wasn’t a bad looking woman when she put a little effort into it. If only the men in her life agreed.

  She’d just picked up the cardigan when she heard a knock on the front door. She pulled it open, a slight smile slipping over her lips when she saw who it was. Detective Dane Hood was standing there, dressed sharply in slacks and an argyle sweater. He held a single white rose between his fingers which he promptly offered to her.

  “I know you have your security guy taking you to the reading, but I wanted to stop by and wish you luck.”

  “Thank you.” She took the rose and stepped back, gesturing for him to come in. “I have a few more minutes. Would you like a drink?”

  “Love one.”

  Kelly went to the kitchen and took a bottle of wine from the fridge, grateful she’d refrigerated the bottle her publisher sent to her last month when her latest book was scheduled for its fifth printing. She poured two glasses, hoping the wine wasn’t as dry as the last bottle her publisher had sent.

  “Here we go.”

  She held out the glass to Dane and bit her lip when their fingers brushed.

  “I wanted to apologize for yesterday,” he said in his deep, rumbling voice. “I was rude when I questioned if you knew who you’d hired to protect you.”

  Kelly shook her head, sipping the wine, her taste buds recoiling at the bitterness that flooded them. “You were just concerned.”

  “I should have known you would do your homework. You’re a writer, after all.”

  She chewed the inside of her lip, wanting to take that as a compliment, but this small part of her bristling at the implication that she wouldn’t be professional if she didn’t do research.

  She debated with herself about telling him the truth, that Ryder was her husband—still her husband since she’d failed to sign the divorce papers when he sent them to the house they once shared—and she knew all that about him because she’d gone through it with him. But she decided it wasn’t a necessary detail. The less he knew about her, the more he’d probably continue to like about her.

  “He mentioned that the two of you worked some cases together.”

  Dane smiled a sardonic smile that said more than he probably intended. He didn’t think of Ryder as a cop; therefore, he found it amusing to suggest they might have been equals on any case.

  “He was backup on a takedown we did once. And I think he might have been involved in an undercover sting that led to the discovery of a couple of bodies. But I wouldn’t say we ever worked together, per se.”

  “I’ve heard nothing but good things about him.”

  “Mastiff is a private security outfit. You can’t expect them to be capable of the same sort of protection and investigation the police can do.”

  “No, but—”

  “You’ve essentially hired yourself a rent-a-cop. He’s out for himself and no one else.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “You should. If things get complicated, it’s possible he’ll just leave you high and dry.”

  Kelly shook her head, but she painted a polite smile on her face.

  “But I’ll be around. If you have trouble, I’ll be there to bail you out. You can count on that.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “And I’ll find this guy, make sure he doesn’t come after you like he did your friend.”

  “I’m counting on it.”

  He brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek. “You’re too beautiful for anything to happen to you.”

  Kelly smiled a genuine smile, falling for his charm like she was a naive teenager. It’d been a long time since anyone had called her beautiful.

  “You’re quite the charmer, Detective.”

  “I’ve been told.”

  “I bet. You probably have a whole road of broken hearts laid out behind you.”

  “You could say that. But there’s always that one girl who has the power to hold on.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Definitely.”

  He took the wine glass from her hand and set both their glasses on the coffee table before drawing her toward him, his hands big and firm on her shoulders. She looked up at him, at a loss for what to do now. There’d only been Ryder, and she knew what to do when he drew her close. But this man was not Ryder.

  He leaned into her, made the first move, his lips brushing hers. She let her lips part just slightly, enjoying the pressure of his against hers. He stepped into her, pushing her back just a little as he deepened the kiss, the tip of his tongue encouraging her to open to him. She did, and it was a nice kiss. He knew what he was doing. But it wasn’t right.

  She pulled away after a moment, this uneasiness building in her chest. It just wasn’t right. His lips, his touch, his technique. He was handsome and he was charming and he was a lovely kisser. But . . .

  But he wasn’t Ryder.

  Would she ever be able to move on from Ryder?

  “You okay?” Dane asked kindly.<
br />
  “Yes. Sorry.” She looked up, surprised by the fog of tears that blurred her vision. “I just—”

  “No, you don’t have to explain. I understand.”

  “Do you?”

  “I do my homework, too, Kelly.” He smiled that charming smile. “And I’m quite observant. You’ve recently ended a long-term relationship, right?”

  She inclined her head. “Yes.”

  “It takes time to move on. I understand that. And I’m a very patient man.”

  “I appreciate that, but I don’t—”

  A hard knock sounded on the door just then. Two heavy taps and a lighter one.

  Ryder.

  “I guess your ride is here.”

  Dane crossed the room before she could stop him, wrenching open the door to reveal her husband, his expression as unreadable as ever. About the same height as Dane, but twenty pounds heavier, Ryder seemed like an impenetrable mountain wedged into her doorway.

  “Fairfield,” Dane said, his tone condescending.

  “Detective.”

  Dane turned back to Kelly. “I’ll be in the audience. I’m looking forward to hearing you read.”

  She forced a smile, the uneasiness in her chest blooming and growing. “Thank you.”

  Dane focused on Ryder again, pushing passed him in a gesture that announced his dominance in their strange little triangle. Ryder stepped aside and watched him go, his expression still unreadable when he turned back to Kelly.

  “Ready?” was all he had to say.

  Kelly found herself wishing he would say something else, but knew it was pointless. He’d made himself clear when he walked away two years ago. Nothing she could do or say was ever going to change that.

  Even though she knew the reality of the situation, it still hurt to see it play out right in front of her. She swallowed her tears and grabbed her cardigan, storming passed Ryder on her way out the door.