Danger and Desire: Ten Full-Length Steamy Romantic Suspense Novels

by Pamela Clare

  Except for the first time with Colin, I wasn’t sure if I wanted it. I wasn’t sure I didn’t want it either—fickle me—but I was nervous. My mind flashed to the ridiculous bullfighting photographs in Philip’s study. This must be how a bullfighter felt, standing in front of a raging force over which he had no control, waving his red flag, even as he wondered what the fuck he’d gotten himself into.

  I’d had sex how many times? Almost a dozen, over the months. All with mean, angry strangers. Bullies, really, but that wasn’t Colin. He wasn’t a stranger or mean or a bully. He was an angry Colin, and that made him entirely unknown.

  I’d let him fuck me, even let him hurt me, but what if he went too far? An even scarier idea occurred to me. What if I didn’t want it? I didn’t want him to hurt me. Maybe I didn’t even want him to fuck me.

  What then?

  I pictured myself, cowering behind the red flag, scuffing my boots on the dirt. I couldn’t run—he’d only chase me. I couldn’t fight him—he’d only beat me. As laughable an idea as it was, the only thing left to do was tame him.

  I reached out and cupped his cheek. His breath puffed against the inside of my wrist in time with my pulse. I curled my fingers in and stroked the backs of my knuckles up along his temple. He tilted his head into my caress, and I caught my breath. He stayed my wrist in his hand.

  He tugged, and I fell over his lap, facedown. He held me there by my wrist while his other hand slid up the back of my thigh. His fingers explored between my legs, not teasing or asking but feeling and taking.

  The pleasure was there, but I didn’t like it. His legs under my stomach, the bed pressed against my face, my ass exposed. What a whore. No more, please.

  I made a small sound in my throat, maybe a refusal, definitely a complaint. I didn’t know what he made of it, but he rolled me off him. Then he was on me, kissing me. When I didn’t open my mouth, he moved down, down.

  His hands were rough, pulling off my shirt, touching my body, pulling me apart. His mouth was demanding. He wanted everything, but I couldn’t give it to him. No, that wasn’t true. I could give in to him. My body was wet with anticipation, my mind slipping to that dark, quiet place, but I didn’t want to. No.

  He tried to kiss me again, and I turned my face away. He made a low sound like a growl, and then flipped me over onto a pillow. I knew what would happen next. The way he pushed apart my knees and tilted my hips and parted me there, it all meant I was going to get fucked. No!

  “No,” I whispered.

  He thrust inside me, hot and thick.

  “No,” I said.

  He pulled back. I thought he would pull out.

  “Yes,” he grunted, and then he thrust again, and again, deeper each time, filling me, invading me—Get it out!

  “Stop,” I said. “Colin!”

  He froze. “Allie?”

  It was his name that had caught his attention, so I used it again. “Colin, stop.”

  In a heartbeat he was out of me. I was whipped around onto my back, and he was crouching over me. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Did I hurt you?

  “No, I just—” I was fucking this up, that’s what I was doing. I’d done this before, in the alley, in my car, once in the bathroom of the club, what was one more time? But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t want to. Not right now. I’m sorry.”

  “Jesus, Allie.” He rolled down to the bed beside me, breathing hard.

  We lay there side by side, both flat on the bed, with only his cock standing up, gently waving in rhythm with his breaths, as if to say don’t forget about me! Neither of us had forgotten, I was sure.

  “I thought it was…fuck, I thought it was a game,” he said in low tones. “I thought that’s what you wanted. I’m sorry.”

  “No, don’t be,” I said, my voice small and stupid. “I know that’s what I asked for before, but that’s not…I didn’t want it now.”

  “Okay,” he said, but he sounded confused.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Allie,” he said, then paused. “You’re allowed to say no. You know that, right?”

  “Of course I know that,” I said, too quickly and too brightly.

  “Fuck!”

  “I’m sorry,” I practically wailed. “I’m so messed up.”

  “Shh,” he said, pulling me into his arms. He whispered things into my hair to quiet me while his hands stroked down my back, while we both ignored the thick, damp cock bobbing between us. Damned insistent things, cocks.

  It was okay, though, because he didn’t freak out or get mad, but of course not. He’d always been tender with me, but there was this block built up in my mind. It wasn’t even about men, like I’d thought, or cocks or fucking, but about saying no.

  I ignored the urge to tell him I was sorry, again, or to offer to make him come. It was hard to do, with his cock practically begging for my hand or my mouth, and I so wanted to make him feel good. That way we wouldn’t have to lie here thinking about me and my ridiculous issues. Yes, pleasing him was so much better, but if I did that, I’d have nothing. I’d gained one small thing by saying no, by meaning it, by insisting it. I’d gotten my consent back, and I wasn’t about to give it away so easily. Not ever again if I could help it.

  Men could take my body if they were stronger than me, and they usually were. I never fooled myself about those women’s self-defense classes or mace cans. Where I came from, pulling shit like that got you killed. The important thing was to be able to get up and walk away from it after.

  I’d given away so much more than that, though. The physical pain had been over in a week. But I’d made it all worse when I gave away my consent, when I’d set out to prove that sex didn’t matter, that getting raped was the same thing, and that men didn’t listen to no.

  But not today. Today I’d said no, and he hadn’t forced me. He hadn’t left. Not even when the air cooled my skin, still damp with a sheen of sweat. His breathing evened out, and with his arm still wrapped around me, he slept.

  Chapter Fifteen

  With my hand shielding Bailey’s eyes, I poured water over her soapy head. I only had to finish up her bath and put her down to bed before I could join Colin downstairs to watch the movie. I’d left him in his study after dinner. It was half past eight, and I was eager to pin him down, safe and secure from the looming drop across town.

  Nothing would happen. Nothing should happen, after all. Philip’s drop should go down as planned, and the cops, if they’d heeded my note, would stake out my empty apartment. Still, I couldn’t shake the bad feeling that had shrouded me all day.

  By the time I slipped from her room, frazzled, it was past nine o’clock.

  I checked the study first. He wasn’t there. I strode through the living room, kitchen—no Colin. I peeked out of the burnished amber curtains I’d made for the living room. His truck was gone.

  Surely he’d only left to grab some popcorn or drinks or something. Or maybe he really hadn’t liked my movie selections. Feeling antsy, I went into the kitchen, where I saw a note sitting on the small stack of DVDs I’d rented.

  Raincheck. Business. Don’t wait up. —C

  Well, shit. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what business stuff he could be up to tonight. Sure, there was the restaurant, but somehow I just knew it was Philip. It wasn’t like Colin to ditch me when we’d had plans, but he would go running if his brother called him.

  I paced around the kitchen. Something might have gone wrong for Philip to call so last minute, and I worried it was a green-eyed cop in a tweed brown suit.

  I hadn’t interfered with Colin’s business before, not since that night in my apartment when he’d made his stand clear. It required a certain amount of trust that he knew what he was doing. I wasn’t his keeper, and he didn’t need one. Then again, maybe I’d fucked up. I had thought I was doing him a favor by leading the cop in the wrong direction, but I hadn’t been brave enough to tell Colin they were trying to b
ust him. If he knew, he could be more cautious. If he’d known, he might have stayed with me or canceled the drop or so many other things. What if the cops had found the correct information, or hell, staked out this house and followed Colin when he’d left tonight?

  That cop, he was dirty. The fact that he’d tried to blackmail me and hurt me was proof enough of that. He might not even arrest Colin. He could shoot first and ask questions later. If Colin ended up dead tonight…

  Resolved, I called Colin’s cell. It rang and rang. Voice mail.

  I hung up and glared at the phone.

  I called again. Still voice mail. This time I left a message, babbling about calling me back right away, that I needed to talk to him, it was important, but that wasn’t good enough. He may not check his messages until after. He might be in trouble right now.

  I did know where the drop was happening, the real one.

  That was a bad idea, very bad. But as bad ideas tend to do, this one sprouted up like a weed, strangling all the others.

  Picking up the phone again, I dialed Shelly.

  “Hello?” She sounded anxious, which matched my mood.

  “Shelly. I love you, sweetie, but can you please, please come watch Bailey?”

  “I can’t, not now,” she said, sounding distracted. “Some bad shit is going down.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about. There’s this drop, and Colin just left, and—”

  “Wait a minute. Colin’s going tonight? He wasn’t supposed to.” The sharp edge to her voice startled me. Almost panicky.

  “What’s going on? What do you know?” I demanded.

  “Nothing,” she said, but I knew her too well.

  “Shelly,” I warned. “Tell me what you know.”

  “The cops,” she said. “They’re going to be there tonight.”

  “No, they’re not,” I said. “I gave the guy a fake address.”

  Silence on the line.

  “Shelly?”

  “I gave it to them,” she finally said.

  “What? Why? No, never mind. Shit! I can’t even—I have to get to Colin. I’m going to call him again, but if he doesn’t answer, I need to go there.”

  “I can’t come over,” she was saying over me. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. Philip’s missing. I thought he’d just gone out. I mean, he never goes to the drops personally. I didn’t think—”

  “Shelly,” I interrupted her. “Call Philip. Get them both out of there.”

  I hung up on her babbling and called Colin, only to cuss out his voice mail.

  Deliberating only a second, I ran across the yard to Linda’s house and banged on the door. She opened the door wearing a robe and a face mask of white. It startled me momentarily, not that it was scary, despite its skull shape, but how ordinary it was to run through a nighttime beauty regimen. A contrast to the shit storm that was tonight.

  “Hi, Linda. I’m so sorry to impose on you, so sorry, but would it be at all possible for you to come watch Bailey for an hour? She’s already asleep, so really you’d just have to sit there and—”

  “Of course!” she said. “Don’t even worry about it.”

  “Thank you so much. An emergency came up, a family emergency, so that’s—”

  “Stop, dear. You don’t have to explain it all now. I can see you’re in a way. Now, you get back to her, and I’ll be right there.”

  Thank God someone could think, because I probably would have babbled half the night away, just like Shelly had done. And, damn! I couldn’t believe Shelly had told the cops anything. It didn’t make sense. I should have known they’d be pushing for information from all angles, but why would Shelly talk to the cops? Maybe they’d threatened her. Well, of course they had. They’d threatened me, and Shelly was a prostitute, for God’s sake. Like taking candy from a baby, that’s how easy it would be for them to threaten her with arrest or worse.

  I practically dug tracks into the hardwood as I waited for Linda to come over. I remembered the business card that the other detective had given me. What could I say if I called him? I know my hooker friend gave you intel, but could you please do me a favor and not arrest my boyfriend? Really I was the epitome of class and grace.

  But maybe I could find out something. I darted upstairs and into the closet, where I searched through the folded shirts, looking for the envelope of money Jacob had given me, where I’d stored the business card. They weren’t related in any way except that they were things I’d hidden from Colin.

  They were gone.

  I flipped through the shirts again, then dumped them all out on the closet floor. No cards, no money, nothing. Then for good measure, I rifled through all the drawers. Nothing. It was like the Grinch had taken my Christmas, not even leaving the empty envelope behind.

  I had a crazy thought that I’d imagined all of it. Colin was safe, and I’d only imagined my meeting with Jacob and the cops in some sort of housewife hallucinations. I indulged in those fantasies for half a second before snapping back to reality. Colin needed me.

  Except Colin must have found the money and the business card. I rolled that over in my mind—he found them together. Would he have thought, was it possible he might think they were connected? That I’d gotten the money from the cops? And there was only one reason the cops would give me money like that: to betray Colin.

  No, he’d know better. I wouldn’t betray him—I hadn’t—and he trusted me. He’d said as much to his brother when Philip had accused me of being an informant. But the money—fuck! And of course Colin had no idea that I’d even met with Jacob, much less that he’d given me money. This looked bad.

  The discovery compounded the cluster fuck, but it didn’t change my purpose. If anything, it strengthened it. I couldn’t sit on my hands at home while Colin did God knew what with the wrong information. It could get him hurt—or arrested.

  I peeked in on Bailey, sending up a quick prayer for her safety here at home. Back downstairs, Linda came in carrying a thick book. She hugged me hard, clasping me to her round body. I resisted as if a hug was a threat to me, but she held on until I slumped in her arms.

  “Don’t worry, hon. Whatever happens, you’ll be okay, you know. Go on now.”

  The words helped, which was strange, because they never had before. I stumbled from the house, hoping I was doing the right thing, hoping I wouldn’t be Colin’s downfall.

  Some of my panic morphed into frustration as I circled the warehouses that huddled the one I was looking for. For blocks they went on, all large gray boxes, and none of them labeled. Around I went, peering at the tiny block numbers on the street signs, trying to make out the right section of street. Christ, if I was too late because of a fucking street sign…well, that would just be hilarious.

  The streetlamps glowed meekly, suspended in the thick of the night. No grassy plots or stick-thin trees dotted this concrete landscape. They’d done away with any pretense that this place was natural.

  Cars whirred by, oblivious to my worry. The people inside them surely had worries of their own, but to me those cars were just two bright lights tacked onto metal freight, part of the machinery. All backdrop.

  I hadn’t identified the warehouse, but I found my stop anyway. Shelly’s car. Parked on the side of the road behind a long line of cars, innocuously dark. I pulled in behind her and cut the engine. We were in this together, after all.

  The cars zoomed past my door, shaking my car like a bobblehead. At a break in the line, I opened the car door and clipped around to the curb. I started down the sidewalk when I heard a car door open behind me. My breath stuttered, and I whirled.

  Shelly sat in the shadows of the backseat, head bent low.

  “Christ, Shelly! You scared me.”

  She scared me still, unmoving. I walked back toward her, or at least I tried to, but ended up making an arc on the sidewalk, keeping my distance. I squinted into the car—it was empty.

  I approached cautiously and squatted in front of her. “Shelly? What’s going on?”


  She lifted her face, streaked with tear tracks. “I made a mistake.”

  “I know, shhh.” I tried to soothe. “Did you get ahold of Philip?”

  She shook her head, and fresh tears spilled over.

  “It’s okay. We’ll find them. We’ll fix this.”

  “It’s too late,” she said.

  “No,” I said, feeling clumsy. I wished I had a large, soft body made for comfort and the courage to give her a hug. “Whatever happens, we’ll be okay.”

  I expected her to blow me off with an I’m always okay, honey, but she sniffled and wiped her face with her forearms like a child. We were too young for this. Not the skulking around at night—that was the propriety of youth. We were too young for our lives. Selling our bodies and making babies. But then again, when was anyone really ready to do those things?

  It had felt like a betrayal when we’d grown up into the bodies and minds of adults but with all the cluelessness of children. Why had they—those adults—snapped at us to eat our vegetables and do our homework as if it mattered? When Shelly lay down and spread her legs, it sure as shit didn’t matter. And what could I teach Bailey about this world? Nothing I wanted her to know.

  I pulled Shelly from the car and towed her behind me, looking for the right gray box. She followed, docile. Little girls do what we’re told. We learned that lesson early. Little boys pull our hair and run away, but only a tattletale tells.

  This building was barren like all the rest, the rectangular gray walls cutouts against the dark. The door was just a regular door, undersized compared to the massive building.

  There was nothing and no one. Hope thumped, that they must have changed the location or canceled the whole thing. We’d come all this way for no reason. Worried little wives…or whatever we were. I would go back home, and Colin would be there. I’d explain everything. Colin would be angry, but at least he’d know I hadn’t betrayed him.

  A rustle sounded from around the side of the warehouse. The wind lapped against my face, but there weren’t bushes or anything else to make that shuffling sound. And I doubted there were animals around here, at least of the inhuman variety.