Mind Sweeper (Mind Sweeper Series Book 1)

by AE Jones

  A comfortable silence followed while Dalton floured the chicken and placed it in the skillet and I finished putting together the salad. The whole scene was a bit too domestic, though, and my panicky flight mechanism kicked in. Then Dalton gazed at me with those ridiculously gorgeous turquoise eyes and I knew I was a goner. Damn pheromones.

  When the food was ready, we sat down to eat at his kitchen table, since he didn’t have any dining room furniture. Dalton waited expectantly while I took my first bite of chicken. The wine and mushroom sauce was just right. “It’s delicious.”

  He grinned. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

  “Sorry. You are a man of many talents.”

  “You have no idea.”

  His eyes danced, but his tone made me take a large gulp of wine. It did little to calm my nerves.

  The conversation turned to more mundane things once we started eating, and I had no trouble cleaning my plate. I sopped up the last of the Marsala sauce with a piece of bread and sighed, replete.

  “Do you want some more?”

  “No, I’m good. It was excellent.”

  He stood and reached for the plates. “How about some ice cream for dessert?”

  I never pass up ice cream. “What kind do you have?”

  “Vanilla.”

  I shook my head in disgust. “Figures.”

  He chuckled and carried the dishes to the sink, rinsing them off and placing them in the dishwasher. “What’s wrong with vanilla?”

  “Nothing, other than it’s boring.”

  “Oh, ye of little faith.” He reached into the cupboard and pulled out a small pan. “Do you like strawberries?”

  “Love ’em.” Curious, I walked over to the counter.

  He opened the refrigerator and found a container of strawberries. Making quick work of removing the stems and slicing them, he then put a small amount of water into the pan. As the water heated, he slowly added some sugar. After a couple of minutes, he dropped most of the strawberries into the pan and let the mixture simmer. The scent of berries permeated the air.

  “Can you get the half-gallon out of the freezer?”

  I got the ice cream while he gathered the bowls and spoons.

  “This should be good to go.” He scooped generous portions of ice cream in the bowls—a man after my own heart—and then poured strawberry sauce over the top and garnished it with the slices he had reserved. “Enjoy.”

  I took my first bite and had to close my eyes when the tart sweetness burst in my mouth. It was better than I could have imagined. After I swallowed, I opened my eyes and found him watching me intently.

  “I love the way you savor food, Kyle.”

  “Food is a big part of life.”

  Living up to my mantra, I practically inhaled my dessert. Dalton offered me the rest of his when I finished the last bite. But I declined.

  I rinsed my bowl and put it in the dishwasher, but when I started to clean up, Dalton shook his head. “I’ll get it later. You’re a guest.”

  I didn’t have any energy to argue, so I watched him finish his dessert.

  “Why did you become a cop? Because of your dad?”

  “No,” he answered much too quickly. There were definitely some unresolved daddy issues for Dalton, but the frown on his face said now was not the time to delve into them.

  He took a deep breath and continued. “My grandmother worried about me not having what she called a ‘positive male influence’ in my life. She signed me up for a police department program where a kid was paired up with a cop and they spent time together. Kind of like a Big Brother program.”

  I nodded for him to continue.

  “I was assigned to Sergeant Manny Wilcox, a burly, middle-aged guy who epitomized every cop stereotype. Loved to eat and throw back a couple of drinks at the end of each shift. But there was something honorable and amazing about Manny. He didn’t believe much in God, he had seen people do too many bad things over the years. I would say his religion was taking care of the people on his beat.”

  “So he was like a father figure to you?” I stifled a yawn that snuck up on me.

  “More like a crazy uncle. But after spending time with him, I knew being a cop was what I wanted to do.”

  I yawned again.

  He smirked. “Am I boring you?”

  “Sorry, no. The day is just catching up with me.” I smiled apologetically.

  He reached over the counter and ran his thumb along my lower lip. “Your lips are red from the strawberries.”

  My eyes bugged and I struggled between leaning toward him and backing away. He must have sensed my hesitation.

  “Don’t worry, Kyle. I’m not going to rush you. But, trust me, this is going to happen at some point. I’ve known since the day we met, when we argued, that we would end up together.”

  I stood there speechless for maybe the first time in my life. All right—Jean Luc and Misha would definitely say it was the first time.

  “Go sit on the couch, I’ll just be a couple of minutes cleaning up. Turn on the TV if you want.”

  I walked into the living room and sat down on the couch, TV the furthest thing from my mind.

  I should jump him. Hell, normally I was the pursuer. But there was something different this time. My warning bells kept clanging in the back of my head for some reason. I yawned yet again. I was slowly slipping into a food coma. I closed my eyes. I would rest them for a little while until he came in. Then we would talk or something.

  * * *

  I screamed. Hands gripped my shoulders and I screamed louder.

  “Kyle! Wake up! You’re safe.”

  My eyes shot open. Dalton was holding me. I took a deep breath. I was in Dalton’s living room, not the dark room I couldn’t escape. It was that dream again. Dalton reached over and pulled a blanket from the back of the couch to cover me. I was going to protest until I realized I was shaking uncontrollably.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked softly.

  My gut reaction was no, but I didn’t want to handle this alone, and confiding in him felt scary but right somehow. “I’ve been having a recurring dream where I’m held captive in a dark place. I can’t see much of anything, except a light streaming through a slit in the wall. In the background I hear noises, and I know he’s coming for me.” My shaking increased and Dalton tucked the blanket up around my shoulders.

  “Do you know who he is?”

  “No. I just know he’s going to hurt me. The whole thing is extremely detailed. It feels like a real event instead of a dream.”

  He sat quietly for a minute reviewing what I said. “Are you afraid you’re seeing the future?”

  “Yes,” I whispered, as if saying it too loudly would make it come true.

  “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He hugged me to his chest and my heart started pumping hard for other reasons.

  He took a deep breath. “Woman, you’re going to be the death of me.”

  “What did I do?”

  He stared down at me, but didn’t say a word.

  “Well?”

  “Shut up, Kyle.”

  “Wha—”

  Before I was able to issue a brilliant comeback, his mouth covered mine. His lips were as yummy as I remembered and his tongue was begging for entrance.

  I was in deep trouble.

  Chapter 25

  I opened my lips eagerly as his tongue slipped in and played with the roof of my mouth. I sank further into him. He moved the blanket and ran his hands down my arms, which for some ridiculous reason had suddenly turned into erogenous zones. I would probably self-combust when he touched my girly parts.

  I moaned and threw my tongue into the mix, jousting with his. After a few more inspired tongue-tangling moments, he pulled back.

  “What are you doing?” I whined.

  “We need to stop now if you don’t want this to go further.”

  “Don’t stop.”

  He cupped my face with his hands and his gaze bo
re into mine. “Are you sure?”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Galahad, you’re not deflowering me. Let’s get it on.”

  He laughed and hugged me tight. For a second my chest expanded and ached. But I wouldn’t think about that right now. I wanted sex and I was going to get sex.

  He stood, holding out his hand, and I clasped it, no hesitation. He led me around the couch and down the hallway. At the second door, he pulled me inside and kissed me like a madman. I returned the favor, and after a couple of seconds, pushed back and laughed.

  “Dalton, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

  He smiled wickedly. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  “Really? And what did you have in mind?”

  He stepped toward me and I retreated. His eyes took on a predatory glint as he stalked me around the bed. Within seconds—okay, I wasn’t trying very hard to escape—he grabbed me around the waist and tossed me on the bed.

  “You’re a brute!”

  “Brute?” His one eyebrow rose. “Where did that come from?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He stared at me for a second. “You’re lying.”

  “No, I’m not.” But my voice cracked as I denied it.

  “Kyle…”

  “Fine. I read it in a book.”

  He chuckled. “Was there sex in this book?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want to describe it to me?”

  “Why…can’t you think up things on your own?”

  “Yes, but if you want to act anything out, I’m your man.”

  “You’re talking me to death, here, Lieutenant.”

  He crawled onto the bed and straddled me. “Talk time is over.” He buried his face in my neck and kissed me, following up with a playful nip.

  I moaned. Couldn’t help myself. I felt him smile against my neck, and then he kissed up along my jawline and ended back on my lips. As he distracted me with kisses, he worked his hands underneath my shirt. Not to be outdone, I unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it back and running my hands along his hard chest. I had been fantasizing about touching him since the day he stood shirtless in the alley.

  His kisses grew hungrier, and when I squeezed his nipple, it was his turn to moan. Lifting up, he tried to pull off my shirt. I sat up and helped him. Once it was off, he ran his beautiful eyes over my body, his stare piercing me.

  I couldn’t get over the intense gleam in his eyes, especially since I was wearing my boring white bra. Why I had not started wearing my slutty undies the minute I laid eyes on him was beyond me.

  “You are gorgeous.” He reached around and unhooked my bra, sliding the straps down my arms and exposing my breasts.

  I wanted to respond, but all words left me when he palmed my breasts. The roughness of his fingers against my skin set off a tidal wave of electrical currents, and I arched closer. He kissed me again, his tongue dueling with mine for the briefest moment. And then he was gone, his lips traveling down to kiss the top swell of my breasts.

  God, yes! I trembled and took choppy breaths, anticipating where he was going next, and was rewarded when his tongue teased my left nipple. Sensation raced through me, electrifying my skin, and when his lips finally enveloped it, I cried out.

  He looked up at me, lips still surrounding my nipple, and his eyes danced. After another moment, he released me and grinned, apparently feeling quite proud of himself. Not to be outdone, I reached for his pants and fought with the button, then rasped his zipper down. But he moved quickly out of my reach.

  “I want to touch you,” I whined. Wow, he had me whining again.

  “Not yet. We’re going to take this slow.”

  When he slid off my pants I thanked God it was summertime and I shaved more frequently. But as soon as his lips touched my inner thigh, all inane hairy leg thoughts vanished and I was left with oh, oh, ohhhh!

  Blazing a slow trail of kisses up my leg, he finally made it to the Promised Land. I squirmed immediately and he held my hips down, torturing me. Crying out, I was on the brink, ready to fall off the cliff, when he stopped.

  “Don’t stop!”

  “Trust me, we’re not done.” He stood up and finished undressing, and my eyes were glued to him the whole time. He was as lean as I imagined, but muscular in all the right places. Reaching for the bedside stand, he opened the drawer and pulled out a condom. Good boy.

  “I hope you have more than one of those,” I purred.

  He shook his head. “Yep, you’re going to be the death of me.”

  “Just being honest, Dalton. Please tell me you’re up for the challenge.”

  “With you, always.”

  His turquoise eyes darkened as he ripped open the package and sheathed himself. I crooked my fingers at him and he joined me on the bed. I reached down and ran my palm over his length and he growled. It was the sexiest sound I had ever heard. While I was playing, he started his own game with his fingers and we were both sweating within seconds. I had challenged him earlier, and if I’d had the strength I would have held out, but I was beyond that point.

  “Dalton, now!”

  He thrust inside me and then froze for a moment, watching my face with concern. I gazed into his eyes and lost myself for the briefest of seconds. Then I took a deep breath and relaxed, nodding. He sighed and started to move again. Within seconds, tremors threatened my control, and my vision went hazy. Our bodies found a slow rhythm. It didn’t take long before the pace ramped up and was in sync with my thudding heart.

  I screamed when colored lights flashed behind my eyes and I toppled over the edge. Dalton groaned and followed me. Once we stopped moving, he lay next to me, wrapping his arms around me. “You okay?”

  “I’m more than okay. You didn’t figure it out from the screaming?”

  He smiled. “I just wanted to make sure.”

  “Give me a few minutes to recuperate and then I get to be in charge this time.”

  He buried his head in my shoulder and mumbled something.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said, do you know CPR?”

  I laughed. “Don’t worry, I got you covered.”

  * * *

  I lay next to Dalton and closed my eyes. His even breathing for the past few minutes meant he was probably asleep, which was fine with me, since I wasn’t much of an after-sex talker. For me, sex good, talking bad. Sometimes I wondered if I had been a man in a past life.

  I moved slightly and cringed when Dalton rolled over to face me and wrapped his arm around my waist.

  He opened his eyes and smiled sleepily. “Hey.”

  “Sorry I woke you.”

  “No problem. Sorry I fell asleep on you. I’m not being a very good host, am I?”

  “If this is how you take care of all your guests, I’d say you’re a damn fine host.”

  He chuckled. “Only very special guests get this type of treatment.”

  I ran my hand lightly over his chest. “I don’t know how I landed on your special list, but I thank you.”

  “If you need me to spell it out for you, I can.” He rubbed my back lightly. “But there’s no doubt in my mind.”

  “Right…girl who can erase memories.”

  “I don’t mean your power, I mean you.” He frowned. “Someone did a number on you, some jackass man, right?”

  “A jackass by the name of Jack, actually.”

  “Let me guess, your friend in Vegas?”

  I nodded. “Your powers of deduction astound me.”

  “Hasn’t anyone ever told you you’re special…like your mom?”

  I tried to laugh but wasn’t able to pull it off. “Hardly.”

  He pulled me closer to him. “Didn’t you have anyone else you could talk to growing up?”

  “Not unless you count her string of boyfriends, but most of them ignored me.” He gazed at me with sympathetic turquoise eyes and suddenly I felt more exposed than when he first saw me naked. “Stop looking at me like that.”

  “I can look a
t you any way I want.”

  I ran my hand along his jaw. “I can think of other things we could be doing. Shut up and kiss me, already.”

  His eyes narrowed on me. “You’re trying to distract me.”

  “Is it working?” I asked.

  “For the moment.” He pulled me closer and ran his lips lightly over my face.

  * * *

  My phone rang, jarring me awake. What ungodly hour was it? The clock on the bed stand said six a.m.

  Where was my phone? In my jeans. Where were my jeans? Then, I realized I was naked, and lying in Dalton’s bed alone.

  My phone rang again, and I jerked back the sheets. Searching around the floor, I found my jeans in the corner of the room and pulled my phone out of the pocket. It was Jean Luc.

  “What?”

  “Good morning, Kyle. Your tone tells me you did not have an enjoyable evening with Joe.”

  “It was fine. What’s going on?”

  “We have a development. Where is Joe?”

  Wasn’t that the question of the century? “It’s six a.m., he’s probably still sleeping.”

  Misha’s voice chimed in. “You sound upset. Turn on the video conferencing on your phone so I can see you.”

  “Not gonna happen, Misha.”

  “Come on, I got you this cell phone so you could use all the cool features. Why not?”

  “It’s six a.m., I’m not dressed yet.” Apparently they were not getting my subtle hints about how ridiculously early it was.

  “Oh, right. Well, we ran the composite I made of the guy who shot me and we have a hit.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Jason Watson. Thirty-two. Ex-military. He served in the army for ten years before receiving an honorable discharge. According to his tax records he’s been working as a freelance security specialist.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It can mean anything from a bodyguard to a mercenary,” Misha answered.

  “Also,” Jean Luc added, “his fingerprints are a seventy percent match to the print I took from Byron’s apartment.”

  “So, not only did he shoot Misha, he knocked me over the head and may have played a part in Byron’s death. Do we know how to locate him?” I flipped the phone to speaker and threw it on the bed, so I could gather up the rest of my clothes.