Those eyes. She couldn't explain it any other way. Acting like this, well, she didn't act like this.
"What I wouldn't do for you to taste me..." Did she actually say that? Utterly insane.
The lack of his touch would bring her back down to the real world. Her heel rose to take a step back when his smooth, honey-silk voice slid over her—again.
"Then let's have a taste." He pulled her closer and nibbled at her neck. "I have a room not too far from here."
No question asked. She didn't need to be asked. The only thing she needed was the delightful nibbles caressing her neck not to stop. She pushed away, her body already missing his touch, and grabbed his hand. "Lead the way."
***
Zeke pulled her out of the bar, maintaining a firm grip on her hand. Soft. Smooth. Delicious. He imagined her skin felt the same all over. Letting her hand go would take a dozen men to rip him away. Ridiculous. Where was his control?
He had a job to do. He couldn't open his pants to a prostitute, and yet, he wanted to so badly. No doubt she was what he came for. The way she brazenly stepped up to him and spoke to him were clear giveaways. The evidence spoke for itself.
Damn Tray.
Never again. No one at the precinct would talk him into doing this again. His body couldn't handle it. Once he got her to talk money, he'd have to pull the cuffs out and take the worst cold shower of his life when he got home. This night had gone from tiresome to unbearable.
The silky touch of her hand had him shoving her against the wall as soon as they stepped into the elevator, kissing her with an intense passion as they went up. Just one taste. Definitely against normal protocol when it came to a working girl, but her simple smiles directed his way couldn't keep him away any longer.
Suddenly the door opened. He instantly let go, snatching her hand again, and made his way down the hall.
Allowing her to enter the room first was a bad idea. She sashayed inside, increasing the excitement coursing throughout. Even from behind, she made him weak in the knees. Her back was openly bare, revealing more creamy, smooth skin. Her ass could make a man die of happiness. The urge to grab it and squeeze compelled him to follow her.
As he walked further into the room, the hotel essence screamed at him. Plain bed with a taupe comforter. Uninspiring paintings on the wall. Fake flowers in an off-white vase that wasn't centered on the table. The look of the room snapped him back into the ruse.
Talk price for services. Not ravish her body until they were both sated with pleasure.
His mouth started to open to begin the game when she dropped her purse to the ground and whipped around. Her delicate arms wrapped around his neck as her lips met his. Their tongues swirled together in unison. A moment of insanity hit him in the elevator, not resisting the urge to kiss her. This kiss ranked as sweet and delicious as the first one. Her hands brushed his neck with tiny tickles, then snaked their way through his hair.
Passion and excitement ran together like heavy waves. The sweet taste of wine she drank intoxicated him even further. Kissing her didn't seem like enough. He needed more.
Something subtle pricked his senses that a normal prostitute wouldn't act this way. Why weren't they talking prices? Or perhaps this was how Ray-Ray's girls performed. Tray had given him a breakdown of the operation beforehand. Ray-Ray's women were more sophisticated and high-end. They gave their mark what they wanted, recognizing right away what the man's needs were.
He pulled away from her mouth. Conversation first. She obviously read his needs very well, but they needed to talk prices. Instead, she yanked his mouth back down, her movements forcing him to take a few steps back where he hit the wall. Her body instantly molded to his.
Grasping her body, wanting her more and more as each minute passed, he knew he had to stop this. He was a cop. The only reason he held this beautiful woman in his arms was because he was a cop. He would've never been out tonight if not for this damn assignment. He couldn't cross the line no matter how much desire, need, and want flowed through his veins.
Foolish. His behavior was completely foolish.
But his aching heat told him maybe he could help her get out of this life. She could do so much better than selling herself to men. His hands tightened around her waist at the thought of other men having their filthy hands on her, the jealousy strong and clear. The kiss turned hotter as the image wouldn't dissipate. No hands would touch her body unless they were his.
Just one little taste underneath her dress and then he would stop. He'd finish the job and work on piecing her life back to a better path. One that involved him.
His hands slid down her back to her ass, slowly sliding to the edge of her dress. His fingers brushed back and forth before reaching underneath and gliding his hands back up. The moment he felt nothing but pure skin, he lost all thought. Nothing else mattered.
He led her gradually to the bed as he pulled the dress up, barely losing connection with her mouth. By the time he reached the bed, he had peeled the dress off. One gentle push and she lay on the bed ready for the taking. Pure delight in every sense. Bare-naked—not even a silky, lacy bra needed to be removed by his skillful hands. His pants became tighter by the delicate picture lying in front of him.
He quickly removed his clothes and slid over her body, connecting them, skin to skin. Dying to do this the minute he laid eyes on her, he took her breasts and caressed them as he sucked on a hard nipple. She cried out in delight, arching into his body, pleading with him to take her already.
Her wet moisture clung to his tip. He could explode into oblivion at any moment. Slowly, he entered her inch by sweet, delicious inch, staring into her eyes the entire time. No words were necessary. Communication with a simple gaze. Rocking into her, he swiftly felt a deep intimacy he had never experienced before. Sex normally was a release, a fun way to connect with a woman. Not this overwhelming sense that he didn't want to ever let her go. He wanted to explore her body and find every spot that made her cry out with pleasure.
Moving closer, kissing her neck as they moved as one, they clung to each other as if this would be the last time they ever shared a moment. The intensity, the magic, swirled around them, creating a beautiful scene he would never forget.
The moment would end soon. He knew it, sensed it by the tiny noises she made. The way she became louder and louder. Thrusting harder, she met him each time. Suddenly, she cried out, squeezing delightful pleasure out of him. He came with her to the height of oblivion, pushing one last time and spilling his seed deep inside her.
Without moving, Zeke lay on top of her, absorbing her beauty. The connection between them made his heart beat faster, made his mind into putty, made him realize he never truly knew what sex meant—until her. How in the hell did he lose control like that? He didn't even put a condom on.
Shit.
Just like that, glorious bliss to sheer panic.
He had sex with a prostitute. Not simple sex, but the best sex of his life. And they didn’t use protection.
Shit, what did he just do? How in the hell did he forget he had a job to do? Clearly, she was better than he imagined.
Without a word, he quickly rolled off her, refusing to meet her eyes. He yanked his pants from the floor with a jerk and started to shove them on. How would he explain his actions back at the precinct?
Simple. He wouldn't. This never happened.
He couldn't arrest her now. His heart couldn't take it. Not to mention, his job would be over. Finished. Unemployed.
Sleeping with a damn prostitute. For the first time in his life, he had been thinking with the wrong head. He had to pay for her services rendered. She had to make a living somehow. The thought of pulling his wallet out had his fingers itching like he was swathed in poison ivy.
How did he help her out of this life and ask her out? How pathetic did that make him? He could lose his job over this and all he could think about was when he could see her next. His hand clenched around his wallet as he wrenched it out of his poc
ket. No other man would ever put his hands on her body again. Only him.
He turned toward her to see her dress back on. The sight of her made him salivate all over again. But he had no choice.
The wad of money hung in the air. "I'm not sure how much you charge, but this should be more than enough."
Her eyes darted to the money, then back at him. No expression filtered anywhere. Not delight. No satisfaction. Nothing but hollow emptiness.
Without a chance to react, she slapped him in the face and walked out of the room.
His cheek stung from the blow, tiny pinpricks radiating down his jaw as he stared at the door.
Shit. The best thing to walk into his life just walked out. And not as a prostitute as he originally thought.
Chapter 2
Dee sat perched on Zoe's desk while Rina stood to her side. Every day, all three of them converged to one of their desks for gossip. Except this time, Zoe didn’t want to gossip that much. Her pride had taken a huge blow. She was still reeling from it.
"That skirt isn't short. It goes over your knees. You're crazy," Dee said as she rolled her eyes.
"It goes to my knees, not over them. I want to make sure it's appropriate for work, that's all," Zoe replied, tugging on the hem to try to lower the skirt below her knees.
Her self-confidence had dipped to the lowest it had ever been since the disastrous night with her mystery man a month ago. She still couldn't believe he took her for a hooker. When she told Dee and Rina about it, they couldn't either.
"Quit worrying about that other jerk. I know that's what you're doing. I saw Mark give you a few glances of regret. He's noticing the new you and is jealous," Dee said.
"Has Mark said anything to you lately?" Rina asked, as she glanced around in case Mark happened to be near.
"No. Thank goodness. I want to forget him and sex man," Zoe said.
"Yeah, but best sex of your life. A little worth it?" Dee offered.
Zoe raised an eyebrow. "New subject. I have some good gossip. I had to work late last night because I didn't have enough time to finish some reports for Mr. Mills. I know he left earlier. I thought I was the only one here until I saw him walk back in and head straight to Mr. Murphy's office."
Zoe waited patiently, knowing they would take the bait. For the past few weeks, Mr. Mills and Mr. Murphy hadn't been getting along. They were, in fact, avoiding each other like the plague.
"What was he doing in there?" Dee asked, the intrigue flashing within her eyes as she leaned forward.
"I have no clue, but he went on his computer. I even saw him remove a flash drive. He didn't realize anyone was still in the building until he saw me at my desk. He didn't say anything other than goodnight. It was all very strange."
"If Mr. Murphy knew he was in his office, he'd have a conniption," Rina said. "Where is Mr. Mills? I haven't seen him yet."
"I know. He was here late last night and never once told me he wouldn’t be in today. It's almost lunch time and he's never forgotten to tell me he wouldn't be in." Zoe glanced at his office as her brows dipped with worry.
"I want to know what he was on the computer for," Dee piped in.
"Ladies. We should be working, not gossiping. If Mills, Murphy, or Young were in, they wouldn't like it. Have any of you seen those three? There are some detectives here looking for Murphy or Young," Mark asked as his eyes slid over Zoe with an appreciative glance.
Zoe uncrossed her legs, trying to scoot them under her desk more as Dee said, "No. Goodbye, Mark."
Mark glared at her and walked away.
"Why are the police here? Maybe you should tell them about Mr. Mills," Rina said.
"And say what? It was weird, but not police worthy weird. Why are they looking for Mr. Murphy and Mr. Young? Why not Mr. Mills? Do you think everything is okay with him?" Zoe asked.
"I'm gonna go see what I can find out," Dee said as she slid off the desk and scurried away.
"I know Mr. Young was here earlier, but I haven't seen Mr. Murphy yet this morning either. Like you, I hope he's okay," Rina said.
Zoe gave her a knowing look as Rina walked back to her desk. The police might want to talk to her. Nerves suddenly flooded her bones. She had the urge to pee. Or perhaps the urge to escape. If she went to the bathroom, maybe her anxiety would lessen if the police came to talk to her. It wasn't like she had done anything wrong.
She scrambled to the bathroom before anyone could stop her.
***
Zeke and his partner, Detective Ben Stoyer, followed the office manager, Tori Black, to Mr. Mills's office. She informed them that Mr. Young arrived earlier this morning, but abruptly left an hour ago. Mr. Murphy had yet to show up.
They already knew where Mr. Mills was.
Dead—at home.
His neighbor had called the police when he noticed Mills's back door open. When the responding officers arrived, they found the body of Mills. The phone call from his boss had roused Zeke from a deep sleep, instantly putting him in an ornery mood, especially when he'd been having the same delicious, torturous dream he had every night.
Two gunshot wounds to the chest. No reports of gunfire the night before or early in the morning. Hard to pinpoint the exact time of death until they had the results of the autopsy, but Dr. Everly, the coroner, had approximated the time of death around ten or eleven last night. The neighbor had informed them he saw Mr. Murphy leave the house around eight last night. He also stated, Mr. Mills hadn't been home yet, but Mr. Murphy banged on the door a few minutes before he finally gave up. It had been impossible not to notice with all the noise coming from next door.
Mills wasn't married and his parents were deceased, according to his neighbor. He was fairly positive Mills had no girlfriend or any other problems except the recent fighting with Mr. Murphy.
"Here's Mr. Mills's office. His secretary, Zoe Sullivan, appears to have stepped away from her desk. She can help you with any of his work when she returns. I can go find her," Ms. Black said.
"We appreciate that. We would also like to talk to Mr. Murphy's secretary," Zeke said with a thousand-watt smile.
"Of course," she replied, smiling extra wide as she walked away.
"Really, man? Do you have to flirt with every woman that you talk to?" Ben said with a chuckle.
Since that failed prostitution night, Ben had assumed he was coming on to any female within a hundred yard radius. He told Tray and his team the night was a bust, but Ben had known better. They had been partners for seven years. Zeke couldn't lie to him. He eventually forced out of Zeke what transpired and couldn’t believe what he heard.
A straight-laced cop. One of a kind. Nobody could describe him any other way.
He would never jeopardize his job for a woman, and yet, he did.
Ben had agreed when he said maybe he had been wrong in his assessment of the situation. She probably hadn't been a prostitute. Knowing how he treated her was like a brutal punch to the gut. Screwed up the best thing that ever walked into his path. He had botched it from the beginning, even failed to get her name to try to fix his mistake.
"I would call that being friendly," Zeke retorted without making eye contact. Thinking about his mystery woman, or what Ben thought of him, wouldn't solve this murder.
"Whatever you say, man. You need to move on."
Zeke walked by him without a response as he stepped into Mills's office. Acknowledging what his partner was saying, or admitting the difficulty in moving on from what happened, would only make the pain worse.
Before, when he saw an attractive woman, he would glance over her appreciatively. Now, his eyes only saw his mystery woman. She had ruined him for life. Could the pain get any worse?
With their warrant, they hoped for better luck in finding some useful evidence in Mr. Mills's office. His home hadn't issued any clues except the neighbor's description of Mr. Murphy. They desperately wanted to speak to him, coming up empty everywhere they looked. His wife had been unhelpful; informing them he hadn't come ho
me last night. She even attempted to call him with no luck.
Her worry had been obvious to Ben and Zeke. Worry surrounded them as well. The difference—she was concerned for his well-being, while they were concerned he was their killer. They couldn't locate him or his car. All signs pointed to him running.
Zeke walked over to Mills's desk as Ben went to tackle the filing cabinets. As he shuffled through the papers lying around the desk, he wished for anything to jump out at him. Something to get his mind off the woman he needed to forget. He wanted to blame his partner for bringing her up, but he could only blame himself. She invaded his mind all the time. Normally he could switch his emotions off until he arrived home where no one else could witness his torture.
"You can't be in here."
Zeke's hand froze on a piece of paper as the familiar voice slid over his body, igniting the one delicious memory he could never forget.
Impossible.
He slowly glanced up, grabbing a hold of the chair next to him as his knees threatened to buckle. The smooth leather of the chair did nothing to anchor him to the ground.
Smooth, silky skin. Sweet, delightful murmurs of pleasure as he had caressed, nibbled, and devoured her body. Pure beauty stood before him.
Dressed in an elegant white blouse and a black pencil skirt close to her knees, he wanted her as instantly as he did the last time. Her outfit wasn't as sexy as the red dress, but it didn't matter. Nothing would ever take the luscious craving he held for her away. His pants grew tight as he stared into her eyes.
"You! What the hell are you doing here?"
"I didn’t know you worked—"
"Why would you? You thought I was a hooker."
"Hold on a minute. Is this the woman you slept with that night?" Ben interjected, glancing between them.
Zeke's face heated with embarrassment as his lips dipped into a painful frown.
Her mouth fell open as her eyes darted back and forth. "You're more despicable than I thought. Get out...or…or I'll call the police," she hollered again, pointing to the door.
One Taste of You (One Taste #1) Page 2