Belong To The Night

by Shelly Laurenston

  His mouth said one thing, but the look heating in his eyes suggested he wanted her near.

  Ignoring that for the moment, she waved off what she was sure were surface concerns. “I have trustworthy people running the shop. I don’t need to go home.” She put all the pleading she could into her voice, hoping to sway him into action of some kind. Anything was preferable to sitting around and doing nothing. “Please. You have to do something.”

  “I can’t do anythin’ for another six hours. However,” he raised his voice when she would have interrupted, “however, I will make some inquiries. Okay?”

  Dori ground her teeth. Inquiries. Detective-speak for sitting on my ass.

  “Fine,” she gritted. “Fine. But don’t expect me to just laze around my hotel room eating bonbons.”

  Boudreau leaned even closer. “You’d better not do much more than that, ma petite,” he said, his words slow and relaxed, his eyes narrowed. “New Orleans is too dangerous for you to be alone at night.”

  His lazy drawl made the name of the city sound like “noo awl-ins” and it didn’t fool her for a minute. He’d used that low, easy tone each time she’d come down here searching for her miscreant brother. The slower and lower Jake talked the more it meant his patience had worn thin.

  Unsurprisingly, he inevitably talked in a raspy drawl when he was around her. Probably wouldn’t help her case if she told him how sexy she found it.

  “As you no doubt saw when you came into town, we’re still cleanin’ up after Katrina, even six years later. It didn’t help when Gustav rolled through the area, either. Some of our…less than upright citizens and the out of town criminal element are takin’ advantage of resources stretched too thin.” He tapped her on the chin. “An’ the cemeteries are dangerous enough in the daytime, let alone at night. You stay away from them, hein?”

  This was the second—or was it the third?—time that she and the detective had butted heads over her brother. On her last trip, they’d shared dinner and a sizzling kiss that promised silken sheets against bodies twisting with passion.

  Something she hadn’t turned down before.

  But when the discussion turned serious…well, it had scared her spitless, and she’d backed away. She’d gone home, pushing her loneliness to the back of her mind with the responsibility of being the sole proprietor of a combination herbal and aromatherapy store.

  With Art as a brother a leave of absence wasn’t that unusual, and she knew her three employees would manage the store well in her current absence. As they’d done before.

  She looked at Boudreau and tried to remember why it was a bad idea to desire him. Right now, staring into his dark eyes, she desperately wanted to taste him again. She needed to feel his lips against hers like she needed water to drink, air to breathe.

  Oy. Get a grip, Dori.

  Boudreau cocked an arrogant eyebrow, waiting for a response. Just that fast she wanted to replace the kiss with a swift kick to his backside.

  His big hands came out of his pockets to fist on his hips. Another sign his patience was about used up. She took her time giving him her answer, knowing it would aggravate the hell out of him. Knowing it would irritate him even more, she gave him a once over, starting from the top and working her way down.

  He was tall, at least half a foot taller than her own five-foot-eight, with dark brown hair that fell over his forehead and grew long over his collar. Gray had started at his temples, either because of the stress of the job or because he was only a few years on the underside of forty. Maybe a bit of both. Eyes the color of dark chocolate framed by long, silky black lashes stared at her with flashes of irritation in their depths.

  His bladed nose was mostly straight except for a bump in the middle that suggested at some time it had been broken. Given his vocation and his damned cocky arrogance, that was probable. Lean cheeks with a hint of dimples framed a sexy mouth that drew attention to a strong chin with a delicious cleft. All in all, it was a face that just begged to be kissed.

  She’d only ever seen him in suits, and most of the time his tie hung loosely around his neck. His partially unbuttoned shirt revealed a hint of a tanned, muscled chest dusted with dark hair.

  A long waist tapered to not-too-slim hips and long legs, down to big feet encased in worn black leather boots. Big feet, big hands. Hmm.

  “Dori.” His deep voice was flat, hard. He had finally lost patience with her.

  With a raised eyebrow, she looked up from his feet and grinned. Color rode high on his cheekbones. Should she ignore it?

  Nope, it was surely just too good to pass up. “Something wrong, Detective?” she asked with studied nonchalance and moved her gaze back to the hardened center of his body.

  Boudreau flexed his shoulders as if they felt tight. “Please stay out of trouble.” He sat in the chair behind his desk, apparently deciding to ignore the emotions that flared between them.

  Forcing her to make the first move.

  She briefly closed her eyes, realizing she was tired. Tired of chasing after Art, tired of always being the responsible one.

  Tired of fighting Boudreau, of fighting her emotions.

  Fighting the fear. With what Art was trying to do, she might not see tomorrow. Might as well enjoy today.

  She’d wanted Jake Boudreau from the minute she’d laid eyes on him. He was a living, breathing advertisement for tall, dark, and handsome, and he was so sexy she could die a happy woman if she could have his cock just once more.

  If she were going to die, she’d damned well make sure she was happy.

  “Oh, I’ll certainly try.” Dori walked over and plopped down in his lap, enjoying his startled look. “But you know me…”

  When she wriggled her bottom against his erection, his eyes narrowed. “You don’t know what you’re startin’ here, cher,” he rasped, eyes going nearly black with lust. “Don’t be startin’ somethin’ you have no intention of finishin’.”

  Like last time hung unspoken between them.

  “Who says I don’t intend to finish it?” she whispered, leaning forward and taking a deep breath. Oh, God. Big, hard male and Drakkar Noir. She was in heaven.

  Her weight shifted against his penis, and he drew in a sharp breath. With both hands on her hips, he lifted her and stood in one fluid motion. He hauled her out of the squad room and away from the other detectives who had started to watch their interaction with a good amount of interest.

  Once he got her to the relative privacy of the bathroom area, he pushed her back against the wall and planted his palms on either side of her face. “You are confusin’ the hell outta me, ma petite,” he growled. “What game are you playin’?”

  “It’s not a game,” she murmured, her eyes on his lips. She leaned forward, intent on planting one right on that sexy mouth. She wanted to kiss him, to see if he tasted as good as she remembered. She needed to kiss him again.

  He jerked his head back. “Are you sure? It seems to me the last time I had you in my arms, you seared me down to my toes an’ then you ran.” He slid his fingers through her hair and tucked a stray strand behind her ear. His hand lingered as if he couldn’t stop himself from touching her. “Without even a good-bye.”

  He made it sound like she’d hurt him. Her lips tightened at that thought. Feeling the warmth of his fingers against her cheek, she swallowed at his touch even as it gave her hope that he still wanted her. “It wasn’t you, Jake,” she whispered, looking into his eyes. “It was me. You…you scared me.”

  “I scared you, cher? Or you scared yourself?”

  Dori wanted to scream. She needed him to kiss her, and he was talking. What kind of man talked when a woman was practically throwing herself at him?

  “Does it matter?” She reached for him again and he straightened. Huffing a sigh, she tried a different tactic. “I’ve missed you.”

  “You have, hmm?” As if he needed the physical contact even while he tried to stay out of reach, he cupped her cheek in one broad palm. “Six months and no
t a phone call or e-mail from you, cher. You wouldn’t just be sayin’ that because you need my help now, would you?”

  She saw red. How could he think she’d use feminine wiles on him? That wasn’t her style, and he should know her enough by now to realize that. “Of course not, you buffoon.”

  Forget about kissing him, she was back to wanting to give him a boot in the ass. “Never mind,” she muttered and ducked under his arm. If she had to put up with that arrogant mouth, she could do without his cock.

  “Not so fast.” He pushed her gently back against the wall. Crowding into her, his mouth covered hers and caught the breathy little moan that escaped.

  Jake pushed his groin against Dori’s soft belly, feeling her hands clutch convulsively at his shoulders. He slipped his tongue past her lips. When her tongue tangled with his, he groaned. She shuddered against him, and her hips swayed closer to his.

  He slid his mouth to her neck, nibbling and licking her soft skin, feeling her shiver in his arms. “You taste so good,” he growled, his mouth at the crook of her neck. Closing his eyes at her soft moan, he found an erogenous zone with the tip of his tongue.

  He moved his mouth back to hers and thrust his tongue inside, hard and fast, in and out, mimicking the act of sex. Almost out of control, he took one of her slim hands in his. Pressing her fingers against his erection, he rocked into her palm. She gasped against his mouth, and his knees buckled when he felt her unzip his pants.

  Her warm fingers slid through the opening of his boxers and touched his shaft. He growled and thrust his hips against her, shuttling through the circle of her fingers and gritting his teeth against the building need. Her hand felt so incredible, and when she moved her thumb…Merde!

  “Mon Dieu, Boudreau,” a gruff male voice muttered. “Get a room, why doncha?” Another cop stomped past them and into the men’s room.

  She gasped and withdrew her hand. He could feel the heat from her blush against his face.

  Jake leaned his forehead against hers and sighed, clenching his jaw at the loss of her fingers. “What the hell are you doin’ to me, cher?” he asked, his voice barely above a rasp. He was thirty-seven years old and ready to come in his pants like a randy teenager.

  “I want you,” she whispered.

  The desire in her voice made his cock jerk. He groaned and pressed against her. “Let me come to you tonight, Dori. I need to be with you. I need…more than this. I want to slide my cock into your cunt so deep you’ll feel empty without me.”

  Dori felt her womb clench at the graphic words he muttered against her cheek. She wanted the feel of him against her, she wanted to kiss her way around his body like it was a map to heaven. She felt close to tears at the desperate need for him that pulsed throughout her body.

  Was she ready for this? It would be more than sex, she knew. She was already half in love with this man, and if she got another a taste of him, felt him in her body again, it would be all over.

  Would he stay once he knew what she was? Could he love a witch?

  She wasn’t sure she’d survive it if she fell in love with him and he walked away. But she had to try. She refused to live a life of what ifs. The last six months had been lonely as hell, and she wasn’t going to walk away from him this time without trying.

  “I’m staying at the Monteleone,” she said softly, and reached up to place a soft kiss on that sexy mouth while she carefully zipped his pants. “Room thirteen-thirteen.” At his raised eyebrow she grinned. “It’s my favorite number.” Her smile faded as sensual anticipation began to build. “Come around nine.”

  Another kiss, and she moved away from him. As she walked away, she was very aware of his dark gaze following her movements.

  Jake watched Dori leave the squad room, her shapely jeans-covered ass swaying with each step and kicking his arousal up another notch. He rubbed the back of his neck, wondering, and certainly not for the first time, why she blew so hot and cold. Her clear green eyes betrayed her desire every time they were together, but for whatever reason she kept pushing him away.

  She was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman—spunky, independent, sexy. And irritating as hell. Merde, but she could get under his skin in the blink of an eye. Half the time he didn’t know if he should lock her up or just kiss her until she couldn’t sass him anymore.

  Kissing her kept coming up the winner. Although the thought of putting her in his handcuffs and spanking her ass until it was pink was a close second. Either way, sex wouldn’t be far behind. It wasn’t a question of if, it was just a matter of when. If Lady Luck was on his side, when would be tonight.

  He had a feeling that, when the two of them did finally get together, it would be magic.

  Chapter Two

  “Damn it, Art, why in the hell were you here?” Dori tripped over a rock and banged her wrist against the corner of a crypt. She cursed under her breath, rubbing the injury against her hip to take the sting out of it. “I mean, I know you were supposed to meet Sabin here, but Jeez Louise! Couldn’t you have said no and arranged another meeting place? Now you’ve got me talking to myself, damn it.”

  Dori tiptoed past another crypt and wished, not for the first time, that she could find her brother so she could wring his neck. Of all the places in the world where he had to come up missing, why did it have to be from the oldest cemetery in New Orleans?

  She kept up her dialogue with her nonexistent brother. “Why can’t I just cast a spell so I can find you easier? Because of Sabin, of course.” She stopped and turned, gazing into the deep, dark night, listening, sure she had heard something from behind her. When she heard nothing more, she moved on. “Sabin the Wonder Witch,” she muttered, “casting spells so that he can’t be found and, therefore, making sure you can’t be found.”

  She stopped again and turned the flashlight to the marker on the nearest crypt. It was old, crumbling, and covered in graffiti, mostly in the form of X marks. Dori flashed the light to the other crypts, then back to this one. It was the only one that had been defaced.

  “The Voodoo Queen’s final restin’ place.”

  Dori shrieked at the sound of that deep, masculine voice. She whirled to face Boudreau, squealing again when he pulled the flashlight out of her hand.

  “Don’t shine that in my face, cher. What’re you doin’ here?”

  “Jake?” She blew a breath from between pursed lips and willed her heart to settle back down into her chest from where it had lodged in her throat.

  Boudreau’s handsome face looked spooky in the beam of the flashlight. Almost demonic. “Yeah. Answer the question.”

  She fought back a shiver at the creepiness of this place. “I thought I might find something that would lead me to Art.”

  “Well, at least you’re truthful.” He gave a slight smile, which quickly faded. “I thought I told you to stay away from this place, hein? It’s too dangerous after dark.” He stepped forward, directing the beam of his flashlight downward. He handed her light back to her. With a shake of his head he muttered, “You never listen to me. You shouldn’t have come here alone.”

  Even in the near blackness she could read the disapproval in his dark eyes.

  “Yes, well, you weren’t doing anything, so…”

  “Who says I wasn’t doin’ anythin’?” He propped one fist on his hip and scowled.

  She frowned right back at him. “Oh, come on, Detective. As soon as I told you Art was missing, you pretty much just patted me on the head and told me to go home, that he would turn up.”

  “You call what we did in the hallway a pat on the head?” His voice was so incredulous she found herself battling back a blush. “Merde. If my captain hadn’t walked by, you would’ve gone down on me, wouldn’t you? Your hot little mouth would’ve been wrapped around my dick, suckin’ me ’til I came in your mouth. Yeah, that sure was some pat on the head, cher.”

  “You can be such an ass sometimes, Boudreau,” she gritted. It didn’t help that he was right. She was so desperate for a taste
of him it wouldn’t take much for her to get down on her knees and do her best to swallow his cock. Damn, she hated it when he was right.

  “But you like my ass, don’t you, cher?” he drawled, amusement creeping into his voice. “Besides,” he went on without giving her a chance to respond, “this ain’t the first time you’ve come down to New Orleans to file a missin’ persons report on your brother, ma petite. This is the third time he’s come down here, gotten involved with an unsavory element and disappeared. Each time he’s popped back up with a grin, with little to no explanation. I still don’t understand why you keep droppin’ everythin’ to come to his rescue.” He ran his hand through his hair, making the silky strands fluff a little before they settled once more against his head. “Just what makes you think this time’s any different?”

  He could always make her feel so defensive. She knew he was a good man, under all that Cajun brashness. Right now she didn’t care about whether or not he was good, because he was just plain irritating.

  She wished her upbringing hadn’t been so steeped in what a witch could and couldn’t do. Since he was being such a jerk, she dearly wanted to turn him into a toad.

  After she kissed him silly, of course. He was, after all, a very sexy jerk. Here we go. Raging libido, in a cemetery. Her timing—and choice of places—could’ve been better.

  “He’s my brother, Jake.” She shook her head. “I’d have thought you of all people would understand what that means.”

  “Why? ’Cause I come from a big family?”

  “Yes.” Dori frowned. “You don’t turn your back on family, especially when they need you.”

  He pursed his lips. “All right, I’ll give you that. So, what makes this time different?” he asked again.

  “That you wouldn’t understand,” she muttered.

  “Try me.”

  There was just enough sarcasm in his rich voice to make her mad. Maybe he’d make a sexy toad. Who knew? But, fine. He wanted an explanation? She’d give him one. “Art came to meet a man who could help him…make our father well.”