Hot in Handcuffs

by Day, Sylvia; Black, Shayla; Walker, Shiloh

  Just do it?

  Just do what…him?

  Admit what she wanted? Like there had ever been any question of that.

  Abruptly, she crashed into Colby’s back and realized he’d stopped in front of the door. She mumbled an apology under her breath, looking everywhere but at him. He was looking nowhere but her. She could feel it, that intense, focused stare, all but searing her flesh. Her breath hitched in her lungs and her bones threatened to melt, to turn to water.

  “Okay, Mom. You made sure I got home at a decent hour,” he drawled. “You can stop worrying now.”

  Jerking her gaze to his, she made a face at him. Golden brown hair tumbled into his eyes as he stared at her, a sardonic smile on his mouth and that attitude of his should have shattered the moment, should have ruined everything for her.

  It didn’t.

  “Oh, shut up,” she muttered, hating how breathless her voice sounded. She sounded like a damn hussy. He sounded and looked completely unaffected. Just how fair was that? Shit, what if he wasn’t affected? What if he…Stop it. You can’t do this. Just stop, she told herself. Hiking her bag up on her shoulder, she stared at him. “Are you going to open the door and let me in?”

  “Why?”

  I don’t know—okay, she couldn’t say that. So she fell back on that handy little excuse tucked into her bag. It was also another good excuse to look away from that compelling blue gaze. Damn him. Why did he still have to get to her like this, after all this? And if he did have to get to her like this, then why didn’t she get to him? Or had he just gotten over her?

  Hell, it’s been fifteen years…Swallowing the knot that formed in her throat, she forced herself to clear her throat, to focus. She had a job to do, right? Except she had one more thing that loomed large in her mind. One crucial thing—has he gotten over me?

  Riffling through her workbag, she pulled out the file and held it up. “You asked for information. I’ve got it.”

  “Then let me have it,” he replied, lifting a hand.

  “Sure. When you let me come in. There are things about the case you won’t find in the reports.”

  Things I don’t need to know yet, Colby thought. He could have mentioned that to her. But he didn’t. If there was a day when he was strong enough to walk away from the chance of being alone with Mica Greer, he’d be damned surprised.

  He wasn’t here just because of a damned job—it was entirely possible he could have worked this case without stepping foot out of his home. It wasn’t an option that had occurred to him until he had been driving to Pasadena with Mica, but it had been an option. All he’d needed was evidence. Before he’d quit, he’d worked a few cases while being on the other side of the country. No reason he couldn’t do this one from an hour away.

  If he hadn’t cared about being around her, it would have occurred to him sooner.

  But he’d needed to be around her again. Needed it like he needed to breathe.

  He was here because he hadn’t been able to turn her away.

  He was here because, in the end, he still loved her.

  Wasn’t that a damned joke? Damn her anyway. She stood there staring at him, her cheeks pink, her dark, blue violet eyes unreadable, and he could all but feel the need emanating from her. But she’d leave again.

  She’d leave because they couldn’t be what she wanted. Not together. Damn her. And damn himself, too. Swearing under his breath, he turned to the door. He jerked the keycard from his pocket and swiped it, using a lot more force than the task needed—the same went for the door. He shoved it open, but stupid hotel doors, they were so heavy, it didn’t even give him a good smack.

  He didn’t need this.

  He didn’t need to look at those reports, not until he’d rested.

  He didn’t need to be alone in a room with Mica, not after all these years, and not when he still wanted her. Not when he still loved her.

  He didn’t need her…Oh, shit. That was the problem. He did need her, but if he was smart, he’d steer clear, stay away from the heartbreak and the pain she’d bring back to his life. It would happen. She couldn’t be who she was, not if she was still hiding from it, and even though he wouldn’t let himself use his gift anymore, he wouldn’t deny what he was. He couldn’t live the way she did. He didn’t believe in living lies.

  But the knowledge didn’t keep him from stepping aside and letting her enter. It didn’t keep him from taking a deep breath and flooding his head with the scent of her. It didn’t keep his body from going on red alert, like somebody had just flipped a switch.

  As he watched her saunter into the dim, cool hotel room, he admitted silently that somebody had flipped his switch, all right. The same person who’d flipped it all those years ago.

  Jamming his hands into his front pockets, he stared at her. “Okay. Spill.”

  “Spill?” She turned to look at him, her head cocked. “Just like that?”

  “Yes.” Before I lose my damn mind and grab you.

  Mica wasn’t in the mood to help him out, though. She bypassed the bed, thank God, and settled herself on the couch, the bag at her side. Her eyes met his and he saw the heat flickering there before she lowered her lashes, shielding it. When she looked back at him, her gaze was once more unreadable. But that one glimpse had been enough to drive him insane.

  Or more insane than he already was.

  Clearing his throat, he made his way over to the bottled water left on the desk by hotel staff. It would cost him a few bucks—or rather, it would cost the local police, since they would be picking up his tab, but he needed a drink and he needed it now. “Exactly what do you need to tell me, Mica?”

  “You need to rest.”

  “You bully your way in here to tell me that?” He slanted a look at her over his shoulder. “Not exactly groundbreaking news.”

  She sighed and rubbed her hands over her face. “You can’t give me your best if you’re dragging. And I need your best.”

  “You’ll get it.” Granted, his best pretty much sucked, but he’d give it to her. Twisting the bottle open, he took a deep, long drink and then lowered it, watching her with a lifted brow. “Now that you’ve assured yourself of that, why don’t you give me whatever information you have and then head on out?”

  Her brows dropped low over her eyes. “What bug crawled up your ass?”

  “Well, you already pointed out that I need to rest. I’m tired, Mica,” he drawled. Tired. Horny. Going out of my mind, and just looking at you makes it worse…How had fifteen years passed without this changing? It was like it had been all those years ago—like the time between them hadn’t changed at all.

  But he couldn’t let her know. So he gave her a cool smile as he continued, “I’m dog tired and it’s not going to get any easier until we put this thing to bed, so I want to sleep before I totally immerse myself in it.”

  He did look tired. It was there in the slump of his shoulders, in the strain in his voice.

  Mica really should just leave.

  Instead, she found herself curling her lip at him in a sneer. “You know, I haven’t had more than a handful of hours to sleep each night since this started, and I’ve been working it, on top of my other cases, for weeks. They make it so fucking easy in the FBI that you can cut out whenever you want for nap time?”

  “Oh, yeah. It’s all fun and roses. Maybe that’s why you left.” He glared at her.

  “I left because I didn’t belong there,” she snapped.

  “You left because you didn’t want to belong,” he corrected. “And you know what? That’s fine. I’m not there anymore because I don’t belong. Now what in the hell do you want?” Fury glinted hot in his eyes as he advanced on the couch.

  Refusing to let him loom over her, she stood up, glaring right back at him. “We have a case to solve—three murders, and probably one more. And you’re whining because you’re tired?” Damn it, shut up! she thought. Whining? He wasn’t whining—he just wanted some rest…and he wanted her gone.

&n
bsp; That was the problem, she realized. It wasn’t that he wasn’t able to help her as much as she needed just yet. It was because he didn’t want her there. He didn’t want her there and it hurt. Damn, it hurt. He may still want her, although she couldn’t be entirely sure of that. But if he did want her, he didn’t want her enough.

  Sucking a breath, she stared past his shoulder. “Okay, time-out. I…” Blood crept up her neck—she could feel the heated crawl of it spreading higher and higher, and she knew she’d be blushing hard in a matter of seconds. Edging around him, she grabbed her bag.

  “I don’t know where that came from,” she lied, hoping her walls were still holding steady. The last thing she wanted was for him to get a glimpse inside her.

  “You’re right. Once you get us on the right trail, we’ll probably be running night and day to get this thing wrapped up, and until that happens, you’re going to be pushed. Hard.” She pushed a shaking hand through her hair and then hefted her bag higher, rooting through it. Pulling out the file, she left it lying on the narrow work desk. “So you should rest. You can go through this whenever. I’ll…um, I guess I’ll call in a few hours. You can rest and then go through it and…”

  She let her words trail off as she headed for the door. Get out. That was what she needed to do. Get out of here.

  She almost made it to the door.

  But Mica made the bad mistake of looking backward.

  Looking…and falling into Colby’s gaze. He’d followed her and he stood only a wish away. Blue eyes, darkened by so many shadows, held hers. A hand came up, touching her cheek lightly. She felt that touch tremble through her entire body—it was like a shock wave. He went to pull away and she caught his wrist.

  This is a bad, bad idea, she thought.

  Very bad. And still, she found herself reaching for him with her other hand. When he just stood there, she went to him.

  Lashes lowered over his eyes, shielding them.

  “Mica.”

  She pressed her lips to his chin, then brushed them along the line of his jaw. “Yeah?”

  “This isn’t smart.”

  “No. You’re right.” She pushed her hand into his hair, memory flooding her as it twined around her fingers. “I don’t much care.”

  Tipping her head back, she stared into his eyes. “Do you?”

  “I should.” He closed his eyes. “I probably will…later.”

  As his mouth came crushing down on hers, she thought, Let’s hear it for later…That was her last sane thought for quite some time.

  As his hands came around her waist, everything became a rush of heat, and touch, and need. She felt the wall against her back and him at her front, leaning into her, letting her feel every hard, muscled line of his body. Lean, too lean, but she didn’t care. Letting her hands roam over his shoulders and arms, she memorized those lean, lean lines, letting her fingers learn the feel of his skin all over again.

  Between her thighs, she felt the heated length of his cock, throbbing, pulsating. She whimpered and rocked against him. That was something else she wanted to relearn, she knew. Desperately. Now. When his hands skimmed up her sides to push her jacket backward off her shoulders, she shuddered from just that light touch. Against her side, she felt the solid weight of her gun and she groaned, letting go of him with one hand. She fought with the side holster and managed to get it halfway off.

  Then he pressed his mouth to her neck.

  The heated press of his mouth against her skin had lights exploding behind her eyes, and the neurons in her brain started to sizzle, then pop, one by one.

  Hissing out a breath, she let her head fall back against the wall. She gave up fighting with the side holster and reached up, curling her hand into his hair and pressing him close.

  Colby wasn’t as big on the idea, though. He toyed with the leather of the harness and muttered, “You really do need to lose this thing.”

  Just the feel of his lips moving against her flesh was enough to drive her insane. He skimmed them up to nip on her earlobe, still toying with one of the straps of her holster. Mica groaned and pressed closer, hating everything that separated them…The clothing. The years. The distance…

  A distance you caused, a sly little voice whispered in her mind.

  Determined not to think about that, about anything but this, she leaned back and stared at him through her lashes. “If you want me to lose anything, other than my mind, you need to quit touching me for a minute.”

  “I don’t like that idea.” One hand slipped under the hem of her shirt, and the feel of his touch, his calloused hands on her naked flesh, had the bones in her legs dissolving. “I think I went long enough without touching you as it is. Too long. Now you want me to let go?”

  “I don’t much like the idea of you letting go, either, but if you don’t, I can’t think.” She turned her face into his neck, breathing in the scent of his skin. “If I can’t think, I can’t make myself get rid of the holster or anything else.”

  “Hmmm. Maybe I’ll do it.” Then he did just that, stripping the holster away with quick, efficient hands. Her own hands were shaking. She was shaking. And then she was reeling, struggling to catch her balance as he straightened up and pulled away.

  “Hey,” she protested, reaching for him.

  “Shhhh.” He pressed a quick kiss to her neck and moved away, setting her weapon down on the table just a few feet inside the room. “Can’t exactly go and drop that, can we?”

  Hell, right then, she didn’t care. The safety was on. That’s what the safety was for, right? “Just get back over here.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Colby’s grin, wicked and hot, flashed across his face as he returned to her, his hands going to her waist and pushing up. As the fabric of her shirt rode up under the press of his hands, he dipped his head once more to her neck. “Don’t you think we should move to the bed, though?”

  “I don’t care. I just want you touching me.” Too long? He’d said it had been too long and he’d been right. Desperation, burning and bright, settled in her belly, tugging on her. With every breath she took, with the beat of her heart, the need just got worse. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she sought his mouth with her own. “Just touch me, Colby.”

  JUST TOUCH ME, Colby…

  The soft, husky timbre of her voice went straight to his head. If he hadn’t already been mindless for her, the sight of her, the sound of her, that’s all it would have taken. The faint flush creeping over her skin, the hungry glint in her eyes…and the way her hands trembled as she stroked them over his shoulders. The tremble in her voice, the way her breath caught in her lungs. “I’ve missed you,” he rasped just before slanting his mouth over hers. Damn it, he’d missed her.

  Over the years, it had gotten easier, at times, to not dwell on the might-have-beens, but then there were times when memories of her would creep up out of his subconscious and sucker-punch him, turning him into tangles and making his heart ache as he thought back to the one time in his life when he’d felt whole. Complete. The one time…and he’d lost it. Lost her.

  And now she was here again, her long, sexy body pressed against his, her skin hot, her mouth wicked and soft. Skimming his hand down, he pushed his fingers inside her trousers, past the barrier of her panties, dipping them inside her slick, wet channel. Hot. Wet. Tight. She closed around his fingers even as her mouth opened under his. He caught her lower lip between his teeth, tugging gently.

  Mindless for more, he used his free hand to fight with the buttons of her simple white blouse, stripping it away. It wasn’t so easy to do her bra one-handed, though, and he wasn’t about to stop touching her, especially not once she started riding his hand.

  “Take it off,” he muttered, lifted his mouth just long enough to pluck at the silk and lace. She smiled against his lips, stripped out of her bra, then reached for his shirt, all but tore it away. Even the act of leaning away to pull the material off was too much distance in that moment. “Still wearing too many clothes, damn it,” he
said against her mouth.

  “You, too.”

  He’d have to stop touching her…for a few seconds. Just a few seconds.

  Those few seconds took too long, passing in a hot, hazed blur as they fought free from the clothing and then, finally, he could touch her, all of her. He could feel her, all of her. And taste…skimming his lips over her shoulder, then lower, lower, he sank to his knees in front of her, pressing his mouth to the V between her thighs. Mica whimpered and fisted one hand in his hair, the other clutching at his shoulder.

  As he caught one thigh and lifted it, she gasped out, “Colby…” And then, when he opened his mouth and licked the tender flesh, a strangled scream escaped her. She groaned, pressing closer.

  “Fuck.” Closer…but still not close enough. Too damn long. With the taste of her hot in his mouth, he surged to his feet and leaned against her, his cock cuddling against her middle. “Please tell me you’ve got some condoms or something with you.”

  She stared at him, blinking sleepily. “Now what kind of woman would that make me, Colby?”

  His brain struggled to process that. She…fuck. She didn’t have anything?

  Then she was pressed against his chest. Dazed, he eased away, collapsing against the wall, struggling to breathe. Damn it. He knew he couldn’t die of terminal lust, but he sure as hell felt like he might.

  Watching Mica, he frowned as she bent over and snagged her bag. He heard the rasp of the zipper. Then she turned back to him, a smile on her lips and a box in her hand. “I guess it would make me a prepared woman.” Still smiling at him, she tore into the box.

  “Let’s hear it for preparation,” he muttered, refusing to think about the fact that Mica was ever practical. Maybe she frequently carried around protection. And maybe…

  She returned to him, one foil packet in hand. “I bought these earlier. I can’t look at you without wanting you, and I can’t breathe without needing you. There’s no way I thought we could work together and this not happen.”