His gaze seared her skin, lingering on her breasts and between her legs, making her body throb in response. But he must have known intuitively that she wanted to be in control, because instead of reaching for her, he curled his hands into fists.
She circled him slowly, watching his throat work as she made her perusal. She liked this. Driving him crazy. Making him sweat. Standing directly behind him, she pulled up the back of his shirt, stripping it over his head and tossing it aside.
He arched a glance over his shoulder, obviously uncomfortable with the position. Even so, he held himself motionless while she slid her hands up the length of his spine, her fingertips playing over taut muscle and smooth skin. His body was a study in strength and definition, every inch of it lean and powerful and perfectly toned. He had these sexy indentations at his lower back, and a very cute, very tight butt.
Murmuring her approval, she sank her hands into his back pockets and kissed the spot between his shoulder blades.
Feeling a rough place beneath her lips, she frowned. “What’s this?” she asked, taking her hands out of his pockets and running her fingertips over the scratches.
“You did that.”
“Oh.” She had a vague recollection of sinking her nails into his hard flesh. “Sorry.”
He shrugged, making all those gorgeous muscles dance. “Don’t be. I enjoyed it.”
Her throat went dry. Heart thumping, she slid her arms around his waist, flattening her breasts against his back and letting her hands drift down his front. “Do you have a condom this time?”
“In my pocket.”
Rather than looking for it, she found his erection, surging under the flat of her palm. Her breath hitching, she released the buttons on his fly one by one. Unable to resist, she nipped at his shoulder and moved her hands from front to back once again, burying them in the waistband of his shorts and giving his bare butt an exploratory squeeze.
With a low growl, he turned on her, grabbing her hands by the wrists and jerking them out of his pants. She thought he was going to lift her up against the nearest flat surface and have at her, a move she would have gone along with enthusiastically. Instead, he dipped his head to kiss her, holding her arms behind her back and tangling his tongue with hers, making love to her mouth rather than her body.
After a long moment, he raised his head, his gaze raking over her flushed face as if he wanted to commit every line and curve to memory. Startled by his intensity, she stared back at him in confusion, moistening her throbbing lips.
He was doing this wrong. This was supposed to be about casual sex, pure pleasure, a simple physical connection. But the way he was looking at her …
Covering her mouth with his once again, he backed her toward the love seat in the far corner. She smiled against his lips as he perched her on the edge and settled himself between her legs, his knees sinking into the seat cushions at her feet.
This was more like it.
When he released her wrists, she arched against him, desperate for him to suit up and get on with the show. But his eyes slid down her body and his hands took a leisurely path over her hips, setting a different pace.
Shay had never begged a man for anything in her life, but she found herself saying, “Please,” in this embarrassingly high-pitched whimper.
Smiling, he bent his head to her, wetting one nipple with his tongue, then the other.
Her inner muscles clenched with longing. “Please, Luke,” she panted. “I’m going to ruin the couch.”
His gaze lingered on her nipples for another moment before lowering to the other place, where she was wet and pulsing with sensation. “It isn’t worth saving,” he murmured, moving his mouth down her belly.
“Oh, no,” she moaned, bracing her hands by her sides. She couldn’t maintain a semblance of control if he kissed her there. She was hanging on by a thread already …
He parted her slippery folds with his fingertips, exposing the taut pink bud of her clitoris and tasting her hungrily.
She cried out, gripping the edge of the love seat and spreading her legs wide, beyond decorum, beyond shame. “Luke,” she pleaded, watching his tongue flick hotly against her. At the same time, he sank two fingers deep inside her.
It was good. It was way too good. It was so good she couldn’t hang on a moment longer. “Oh, yes,” she gasped, moving her hands from her sides to bury them in his short hair, holding him there, holding him right there while she dissolved in pleasure.
When the world wavered back into focus, Luke was in front of her, stretching a condom over his jutting erection.
Shay blinked a few times, studying him unabashedly. She’d seen him in the dark and felt him in her hand, among other places, but she hadn’t really looked her fill. “Hello there,” she murmured, reacquainting herself with his manliest of parts.
With a chuckle that sounded pained, he placed the blunt tip of his penis against her, reacquainting her further. She was swollen and slick, still in the flush of orgasm as he slid into her, and so sensitive she felt every inch.
He caught her gaze and held it, gauging her response.
“More,” she said, winding her arms around his neck. “More,” she said, brushing her lips over his.
His control broke. This time, he took her mouth and her body, thrusting deep and plunging in, filling her everywhere at once. His hands knew all of her feminine secrets and his lips tasted of her musk. He wasn’t tender, driving her hard against the wall behind her back and angling her hips up to meet his thrusts, but he was thorough. And he felt so good that tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.
The pegs underneath the love seat scraped along the tile floor and the couch springs groaned in protest.
She thought their first time together had been phenomenal, but this was better. He was still doing it wrong, making too much eye contact, as if he wanted to see the ecstasy on her face while he worshipped her with his cock. He was still too demanding, wringing every drop of pleasure from her, owning her response. There was too much mouth to mouth and skin on skin. But, oh, God, did he make doing it wrong feel right.
She clung to him, pressing her lips to his neck to muffle her scream as she climaxed again. With a muttered curse, he cupped her buttocks and jerked her toward him, penetrating her so deeply she felt as though he wanted to pierce her soul. His body convulsed as he spent himself inside her. Shoulders trembling, he collapsed against her, a bead of sweat trickling down his well-muscled back.
Shay never imagined she would enjoy having a man pant and heave and sweat all over her. After Jesse finished, she’d always wanted him to leave. Immediately, if not sooner. With Luke, she was struck by the urge to stroke his hair and talk drowsy nonsense. She wouldn’t mind if he fell asleep on top of her. She wanted him to stay inside her forever.
Realizing her feelings for him went deeper than she’d thought, she panicked, squirming underneath him, pushing at his shoulders. He lifted himself up at once and withdrew from her carefully. She scrambled away from him, gathering up her discarded clothes and hurrying to the ladies’ room, hoping to wash away her sullied emotions.
She put on her clothes and stood before the mirror in the darkened room, feeling raw and naked and over-exposed. Studying her reflection was a mistake. Her eyes sparkled with intensity and her cheeks were bright with color.
Taking a deep breath, she returned to the office, preparing to hurt him before he could do the same to her.
One glance at his conflicted face calmed her as nothing else could have. She wasn’t going to have to do anything. He was about to ruin it all on his own.
Adding a swagger to her walk, which was difficult on unsteady legs, she tossed her hair over her shoulder and bent to pick up her purse, giving him a sexy show that was part bravado, part façade. On the inside, she was crying.
He ran his fingers through his short hair, and she was struck by the impression that he wanted to apologize for the way he’d taken her. Deep down, he was a gentleman, one who didn’t lose
his inhibitions any more often than he lost his self-control.
“This morning, in the cave … I acted like an ass, and I’m sorry.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, accepting his apology with a terse nod. Then she glanced at the clock above his head and manufactured a short yawn.
His eyes narrowed. “I know I said I wasn’t looking for a relationship—”
“Neither am I,” she interrupted. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I don’t have the best track record with women.”
She almost choked on her surprise. Luke Meza was admitting he’d made mistakes and that he had relationship issues? Wonders would never cease. Leaning her hip against the desk, she plucked at an invisible piece of lint on her skirt, trying to look bored. “Let me guess. Some bad girl broke your heart.”
“She wasn’t bad,” he admitted, studying her face. “More like troubled.”
It didn’t take a genius to figure out he thought the same of her, and she didn’t want to hear any more. She didn’t need him psychoanalyzing her. And her blood boiled with jealousy at the thought of him with another woman, this sultry siren who’d done him wrong.
“She worked at a strip club.”
Her mouth fell open.
“As a waitress,” he clarified, smiling a little. “And no, I didn’t approve. She kept it from me. I didn’t find out until after we moved in together.”
A liar and a slut, a catty voice inside her head whispered. “Hmm,” she said aloud.
“She also did drugs. I didn’t know about that until too late, either.”
“Too late?”
“After we broke up.”
Judging by his expression, his girlfriend’s drug habit was something he felt responsible for. “So you found out she worked at a strip club and kicked her out on the streets?”
“Of course not,” he said with a frown. “I didn’t like that she’d lied to me about her job, but the tips were good and she was putting herself through college. We argued about it, sure, and then we … made up.”
In bed. She felt a sharp tug in the middle of her chest, like a twisting knife.
“I bought her a ring. I thought she’d let me pay for her classes if we got married.”
“You were in love with her?” she asked, her voice steady.
He shrugged, as if the question didn’t bother him. “I thought so. But I was young and stupid and unrealistic. I wanted her to fit an ideal.” His eyes met hers, and Shay knew he was comparing her with his ex again. “She wouldn’t have.”
“Did you propose?”
“No. The night I planned to, she called and said she had to work late. I was pissed off and spoiling for a fight. I went to the club and found one.”
“With her?”
“Not exactly. She was waiting on a group of college kids. I’d been watching her all night, counting every drink she peddled, every smile she gave, every tip she collected. Acting like a jealous fool. When one of the guys copped a feel, I lost it.”
“You hurt him?”
“Nah. The bouncer pulled me away from him before I did any permanent damage. But she … we … it was never the same between us. She thought I didn’t trust her and she was right. I didn’t ask her to marry me, but I did ask her to quit. She refused.” He rubbed a hand over his shadowed jaw, looking every bit as drained as Shay felt. “After that, she was home less and less. She started staying out all night and skipping her classes, sleeping all day. Eventually, she moved out … and I moved on.”
“How long ago was this?”
“Ten years.”
“You feel responsible for a girl who lied to you and left you ten years ago?”
“She died of a drug overdose last year. I was called in to identify the body.” He swallowed hard, his eyes bleak. “They found my name in her emergency contact info. Yeah, it was ten years ago, but I was the only person who cared about her. It was ten years ago, but I was the only one she ever trusted.”
Tears burned in her own eyes. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I knew you’d understand. Sometimes we feel responsible for things that are beyond our control.”
He was talking about her mother. Not fair.
Giving her another pointed glance, he added, “And sometimes we have to let go in order to move on.”
She sputtered, incredulous. “You haven’t moved on!”
“You’re right,” he admitted. “I’ve dated other women, but I haven’t put much effort into making it last. In fact, I’ve actively avoided anyone who seemed … needy.”
She felt the color drain from her cheeks. “Is that what you think I am?”
He had the nerve to laugh. And the wherewithal to step out of striking range. “No,” he said, sobering. “You’re the first one who’s made me feel like moving on.”
She gripped the purse in her hands until her knuckles went white. It was appalling how much she wanted to believe him, to let go of her hang-ups and throw herself into his arms. Being this vulnerable terrified her, however, and she’d been hurt by men far too often. “Let’s not make this more complicated than it is,” she urged. “You’re lots of fun when you take your clothes off, but I never said I wanted to get serious. And the only moving on you’ll be doing is when you leave town.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked as he weighed her words. “I won’t share you,” he said quietly, looking into her eyes.
His possessiveness warmed her, scared her, confused her. She shook the feeling away, struggling to remain aloof.
“Are you still in love with Jesse?”
“That’s none of your business,” she said, her heart racing with anxiety. “This morning you said you didn’t want me! You can’t just—change your mind about us, and notify me afterward. I’m not your doormat, Luke. And I’m not your girlfriend.”
He shoved his hands into his front pockets, a scowl darkening his face. “What if I said I would stay?”
The center dropped out of her stomach. It took her a moment to compose herself, to push aside her emotions and reassemble her defenses. “Don’t bother to make empty promises,” she said, a thousand past disappointments making her voice gritty. “This is Tenaja Falls. No one with a lick of sense ever stays.”
19
Luke was back at Dark Canyon with Shay, lost in sensation once again, gritting his teeth in pleasure at the feel of her slick heat around him, her cushiony hips in his hands, and her soft, wet mouth under his.
When he lifted his gaze to her face, he saw Leticia instead of Shay, her head listing to one side, eyes hollow, skin gray. He pulled away from her in dismay.
That disturbing scene dissolved into another.
He was walking down a long, dark hallway, his footsteps echoing loudly. Urged forward against his will, he opened the door to the morgue and approached a shrouded form on a stainless steel exam table. Reaching out with a shaking hand, he uncovered her face. The dead woman on the table wasn’t Leticia, or even Yesenia Montes. It was Shay. Bloody and broken, her slender neck gouged by monster teeth.
He jerked awake with a start.
Wilson Dawes, one of the rookie firemen Luke had been sharing quarters with, was hovering over him, cordless phone in hand. “It’s for you.”
He sat up and took the receiver, remembering that his cell phone was still out of order. Wilson had caught him in an awkward moment, sweating, panting … and fully aroused.
Jesus Christ. This was great fodder for his next psych eval. His cock didn’t know the difference between a sex dream and a nightmare.
“Thanks,” he said in a hoarse voice, adjusting the blanket around his waist. Either Dawes didn’t notice or wasn’t fazed, because he lumbered away with a sleepy yawn, unself-conscious in his own underwear.
Luke lifted the phone to his ear. “Meza.”
“We have another body.” It was Clay Trujillo.
He straightened, shaking off the remnants of the dream. “Attacked by a lion?”
Pause. “No.”<
br />
His heart jumped into his throat. “Who is it?”
“Bull Ryan.”
Holy hell. Luke hadn’t been in town long, but he knew Bull was the owner of Tenaja Building Company. He was also Jesse Ryan’s father. And Clay’s.
The deputy wouldn’t have woken him up unless the circumstances were suspicious. This was a wrongful death investigation.
“You shouldn’t be there,” Luke said cautiously.
“I know.”
“Where is it?”
“On the new construction site.”
That was reservation land, out of his jurisdiction. “You call in the FBI?”
“Yeah, but they won’t get here for a while and … we thought you should see this.”
He was already on his feet. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
It took him more like fifteen, but he drove as fast as he dared along the deserted dirt road. By the time he arrived at the site, the morning sun was peeking over the edge of the horizon. A small group of construction workers was gathered around a collection of beat-up trucks in the gravel parking lot.
Two tribal police SUVs blocked the exit. Samson Mortero stood guard next to them, his rifle turned up toward the pink-blue sky.
Luke parked alongside the other vehicles and nodded at Samson, who allowed him to walk past without a word. There was a definite advantage to working with other Indians on a sensitive case. They weren’t likely to run their mouths about the details.
A group of construction workers waited on the sidelines, shifting their feet restlessly and talking amongst themselves in Spanish. Luke continued on to the office trailers, where Clay and Chief Mortero were waiting for him.
The chief greeted him somberly, as expressionless as ever. Clay looked as though he was trying to remain calm, but he was a young man in a grueling situation. He wasn’t able to keep the anger, or the suspicion, off his face.
“Go take a look,” he bit out, jerking his chin toward the open trailer door.
Luke did, stepping into the small office lightly, careful not to touch or disturb any of the evidence. There was a lot of it. Papers strewn across the room. Files ransacked. Chairs overturned.
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