Thought about the case? She’d done nothing but eat, sleep and stress over the case since the killer’s return. Had theories until they poured out of her skin twenty-four seven and she couldn’t sleep at night. But none she was willing to share, least of all with a stranger who made her wary and horny and hot as all hell.
She was tired. Of death and divorce and disappointment, over and over and over again. And more than anything, she was sick of the games.
Staring at the man next to her, she couldn’t think of one solid reason not to follow where her dreams had led her after that first, soul-shattering kiss. He was a player. He had to be, considering their first meeting and its location. All that remained was whether he wanted to play with her.
‘What is it we’re doing here?’
That grabbed his attention. Even toppled him a little off balance.
‘What do you mean?’
‘The small talk. Idle chatter. Discussing stuff that doesn’t come close to what we’re really thinking.’
The languid slide of his smile almost saw her slither off her stool. She clenched her thighs, waiting for his response, hoping she could hold it together before she chickened out and fled like she had last Saturday.
Seth leaned in. ‘What is it we’re really thinking, Jayda?’
She swallowed, then turned in her seat. Each whispered word warmed the air between them. She could taste his drink, him, on her tongue, their lips were so close.
‘Whether that first kiss was a fluke, or whether it’d be even better second time round.’
9
They barely made it through the exit before Seth pulled her into the shadows and backed her up against a wall.
His eyes were more black than blue now, the pupils dilated. All-encompassing. ‘I’ve been dying to do this since you ran away last week.’
She gave no thought to maintaining her cover—that had been blown the moment he approached her at the bar. Now had nothing to do with the case and everything to do with a need unlike any other she’d experienced.
She licked her lips. ‘So, you do remember.’
‘How could I forget?’
He kissed her then. Only it was much more than a kiss.
His lips rolled across hers, his tongue slashing entrance into her mouth. She moaned, kissing him back with a longing that surprised her. His breath was hot, a familiar fusion of whiskey and hunger, his body hard and unforgiving as it pushed impatiently against hers. The bricks at her back were rough and biting, but she didn’t care. She wouldn’t hold back any longer. The past seven years had been one lengthy dry spell, and she was ready to banish the drought. With him.
How had she gone for so long without this? If she’d known how incredible—how liberating—it would feel, surely she couldn’t have held back. Every nerve, every cell, every fibre of her body throbbed with want.
His hands roved hungrily and she found herself doing the same. She wanted—no, needed—to feel every inch of him. Know every muscle, every curvature and hollow, with an intimacy she’d never before shared with a man. Liam included.
With a grind of his hips, he wedged his knee between her thighs, opening her up so she could feel . . . She gasped. He was huge. Hard and full and ready.
Her body stiffened, her fingers digging sharply into his back. They couldn’t do this here. Not in public where any one of her colleagues could stumble upon them and see.
It should be special. Crisp, clean sheets, soft music, dim lighting. Chattels to her old beliefs. But hey, just because she didn’t want romance or rings or eternal love, didn’t mean they couldn’t take things slow and enjoy the experience.
Seth pulled back, his breathing ragged. ‘You okay?’
‘We can’t do this here.’
He looked around, eyes widening as if taking in their surroundings for the first time. ‘You’re right. Where then?’
Not her place. Or his. But would a hotel be tawdry?
She spared a thought for the wisdom of leaving with a semi-strange man. The Night Terror was out there somewhere, more than likely hunting his next victim. She shivered. Her gut told her she had nothing to fear from this stranger who fell way outside the offender profile on so many levels. She trusted her gut. It was seldom wrong.
It wasn’t as if she had blonde hair and blue eyes. Doubtful the Night Terror even knew she existed.
She grabbed his hand. ‘I know.’
Skirting the old building, she made for the fire escape, ignoring the erratic beat of her heart. Purse stuffed into the waistband of her jeans, she stretched above her head, gripped the first rung of the emergency ladder, then swung up before glancing down at his upturned face.
‘Follow me.’
Where was the siren taking him?
Not that it mattered. She could lead him into the fires of hell right now and he’d willingly follow.
Darkness swallowed her peach-perfect ass as she scaled the ladder and clambered over the edge. Seconds later he did the same, puffing more than he cared to admit. Hunched over, hands braced against his thighs, he worked at catching his breath while his eyes scanned the area.
A rooftop garden.
Muted blue filtered out from four strategically placed security lamps, while a fusion of pungent aromas enveloped him. Basil. Coriander. Mint. Then there was the sweet blend of honeysuckle and jasmine, the white-and-pale-pink blossoms cascading over a large trellised screen, bordering on three sides a low table and a couple of sun loungers.
He turned to her. ‘Your place?’
‘A friend’s.’
There was no time to take in more as she took his hand and led him towards the screened area.
A car horn sounded below.
In the midst of the fragrance and flowers, she released his hand, her fingers toying with the hem of her tee, her teeth toying with her bottom lip. In one swift motion the garment was up and over her head, fluttering down onto the chair beside her. Her hands wavered at her sides, as if she wasn’t quite sure where to place them.
His gaze locked on to the rounded flesh spilling from her practical black bra. No frills, no lace. He found it refreshing, the lack of trappings. She didn’t need them.
Taut buds thrust at the soft material and his mouth watered, wondering at their taste.
He moved in. She shook her head and pointed to his shirt. ‘Your turn.’
Ignoring the buttons, he whipped it over his head by the collar. Then he reached for her jeans, pulling her closer, unhooking the tab at her waist. ‘Now yours.’
Her breath hitched as he eased down the zip. His hands slid over her hips and behind to cup her buttocks. God, she felt good. More than good.
He pulled her in, licked her lips, suckled at the bottom one until she moaned and pressed against him. Palms rounding her buttocks, he delved between her thighs. Hot. Deliciously hot. He rolled his fingers. She gasped. He bit back a groan, wanted more, needed more. He edged the denim over her hips and downward, luxuriating in the satin feel of her skin beneath his touch.
A mingle of scents saturated the air, yet only one made him inhale greedily. Green apples. He’d detected it the moment he joined her at the bar. Had recognised it immediately from their first encounter.
He inhaled again before refocusing on the distraction of her lips. She pulled back, eyes wild and uncertain.
His hands stalled. ‘Is this what you want?’
She blinked, her teeth taunting her bottom lip once more. Then she nodded.
‘Sure?’
‘Would you prefer I change my mind?’
‘Hell, no! I just want you to understand, you don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.’ She shivered and he rubbed his palms up and down her arms to warm her. ‘I can tell you don’t do this type of thing often.’
Oh, God! He knows!
Jayda clenched her hands at her sides and wavered between denying the truth and grabbing her t-shirt and making a run for the ladder.
Instead, she braced herself and drew in
a deep breath. ‘Th–this type of thing?’
He nodded. ‘The swinging type of sex. Casual.’
‘Oh.’
He didn’t know. He knew she didn’t do free and easy. Had guessed it their first meeting. But he had no idea the extent of her inexperience. That she’d had sex a whole, whopping three times in her life. That the last time was seven years ago. That she’d vowed never again unless it meant something. With someone she trusted. Implicitly.
Only this was none of that. And she was doing it anyway.
One night. Just once. With a man she’d never see again. ‘You’re right. But that’s about to change.’
Levelling her gaze with his, she trained her lips into an upward curve and began sliding her jeans downward. Piece of cake. Until she reached her ankles, that is. Pushing the fabric over her shoes proved trickier. One leg lifted, she rolled the scrunched denim over the arch. It stuck. Her balance faltered. She hopped, tugged, nothing gave.
Whoever said stripping was sexy was delusional. There was nothing sexy about this striptease.
Tensing her muscles, she gave one final almighty tug.
Too late to stop the momentum. Fist and trouser leg sucker-punched him in the gut. His eyes widened as the wind all but rammed from his lungs in one loud, immediate oomph!
Her body jerked forward, the other leg still trapped in her jeans, and she tumbled. With no time to recover, his hands reached for her and he stumbled backwards, his knees slamming into the sun lounger behind him.
The recliner moaned, legs creaking before giving way, and the whole thing crashed to the ground.
She lay spreadeagled on Seth, her face planted into his stomach, his erection nudging her breasts.
Oh, God! Magic me away from here. Now!
It was a mess. She was a mess. No way could she lift her head and face him again. He’d known before that she was inexperienced, but now he knew just how much.
The muscle beneath her began to tremble.
Hell! Not a seizure!
Visions filled her mind—paramedics, cops, her squad, milling the area, questioning her on why they were there and what had triggered the attack.
Her reputation in ruins. Again.
A deep rumble erupted from his body.
Laughter.
‘If you wanted me on my back, all you had to do was ask.’
She tilted her head and looked up. Sighed. He wasn’t angry. Didn’t seem unimpressed or put off. He just looked . . . amused. And aroused. That, she could feel.
Thank Zeus for the darkness and his inability to see that her skin had turned the same shade as her hair.
She shot him a shaky grin. ‘Now you tell me.’
He laughed again, and she joined in, a little uncertainly.
‘Much as I find this arrangement enjoyable, I believe you have a pair of trousers requiring attention.’ He shuffled up, forcing her to roll over and off until she was sitting beside him. He kneeled before her, easing the jeans over her shoe, dropping the offending garment onto the floor.
‘No sense doing half a job.’ He grinned as he hooked his fingers over the waistband of her black no-nonsense undies, encouraging her to tilt her hips so he could shimmy them down. Much as he didn’t seem put off by the lack of silk and lace, first opportunity she had, she was investing in new underwear. Flimsy, sexy delicates that screamed more than ‘warning: inept celibate cowering within’.
Lifting each leg in turn, Seth eased the undies off before dropping them onto her jeans.
She resisted the urge to shuffle, or cover herself with her hands. She’d never been this naked with anyone. Even Liam.
Three times. In a bed, under his crisp cotton sheets. Lights out.
No opportunity to see his body, and small mercies, he’d barely seen hers. A consideration she’d marked as thoughtfulness, a sensitivity towards her shyness. Now she knew the reason had another name—disinterest.
What if she wasn’t sexy without clothes? Was she too hairy? It was tidy, her six-weekly waxing took care of that. But she’d never gone the whole hog. A Brazilian seemed over the top, way too painful and—let’s face it—grossly unnecessary considering there’d seemed no chance of anyone delving in that direction anytime soon. How wrong she’d been. Perhaps she needed to reassess; pain be damned, maybe the hair should go.
His palms scaled her legs, moving towards . . .
She reached for his biceps and urged him up. The thought of him touching and kissing her down there had her hot and throbbing in all the right places. The reality, however, had her freaking out on a grand scale. Some things she wasn’t ready for.
‘Kiss me, please.’
‘Well, since you asked so nicely.’ His eyes flashed. ‘Anywhere in particular?’
‘Uh . . .’ Maybe he sensed her panic. His finger brushed over her mouth as his expression softened. ‘Why don’t we start here and see where that leads us?’
He rubbed his finger along her lips and they swelled beneath his touch. Of their own accord they opened and her tongue flicked out, twirling around his fingertip. He sucked in a breath, letting her know she’d done something right. Emboldened, she allowed her hands to run over the planes of his chest. His mouth descended on hers; firm, warm lips massaging her into submission, his tongue teasing her with its lilting play.
Soft, warm skin encased muscles that contracted as her fingers trailed over each plane and trough. Her palms skimmed the hair smattering his pecs, following as it narrowed down his stomach and disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans.
His mouth left hers, tracing over her jaw and onto her neck. At that point, she discovered one irrefutable fact—the curve where neck and shoulder met was one hell of an erogenous zone. The muscles in her sex gave a massive whoop—a hungry, grasping contraction that begged for fulfilment.
Then his tongue dipped between her breasts. Her breath became ragged as he swirled and rasped another killer erogenous zone. Her nipples peaked, begged for more, as his teeth nibbled and tugged at them through her bra. Could a woman die from pure ecstasy?
Her hands shook, her fingers fumbling with his fly. She’d never wanted—or needed—anything so much.
He peeled his lips from her breast, the grey in his eyes darkened to slate. ‘Let me.’
She eased his hands away, slowly unfastening the first button. ‘I can do it.’
‘Am I safe?’
Heat hit her cheeks at his reminder of her earlier befumbled antics, but she ignored it. ‘Absolutely not.’
When she released the second button, her fingers slipped inside to brush against his aroused flesh. His breath hitched and she released the final button, her hand gaining full access this time. ‘Is that a problem?’
He groaned. ‘Not from where I’m sitting.’
She continued her exploration through the fabric of his jocks. He was so hard. So big. The thought of him inside her . . . she shivered.
Her hand stalled, her heart plummeting all the way to the car park below. ‘I don’t have protection.’
10
Seth’s lips twitched. ‘I do. Left pocket.’
Her entire body thanked the universe and sighed. She reached in, digging around until her fingers contacted with foil.
‘Jayda, you’re killing me here!’
She waved it with a flourish. What now? Did she offer to put it on, or would he?
Lucky Seth had no such hesitations. He took the packet and placed it on the seat beside him. Then slipping out of his loafers, he lifted his butt, sliding both jeans and jocks down his hips then his legs and ankles.
Her jaw dropped. She wasn’t so naïve as to never have seen a man’s penis before. Nothing had prepared her for this.
‘Wow.’ The word slipped out before she could stop it, and it dragged a flood of heat to her cheeks.
Seth chuckled. ‘Thanks.’ He reached round to unhook her bra and discarded it, pausing to admire what he’d uncovered. ‘I’ll return the compliment, and say wow back. You are one beautiful woman,
Jayda.’ Running his knuckles along the underside of her breast, he bent his head and, oh, my! When he sucked it was as if his mouth had a direct connection to every nerve ending below her waist.
She cast her fingers into his hair, soft and warm. And she clutched at the strands as the slide of his tongue had her body clutching for consciousness. Could she climax before he moved past her belly button? Throbbing intensified between her thighs, indicating it was a distinct possibility. She was wet, wetter than wet, and oh, so ready. ‘Please, Seth, can we do this?’
Her nipple left his lips with a plop, cool air caressing the swollen tip as he lifted his head to meet her gaze. ‘I thought we were.’
Need made her bold. Her hand reached between them to wrap round hot, inflexible muscle, leaving him in no doubt. ‘I want you now.’
He jolted in her palm, his voice a mere rasp. ‘No “please” this time?’
She slid her hand up, then down, delighting in the velvet smoothness of surprisingly soft skin. ‘Do you need me to beg?’
‘Would you?’
‘I don’t know. Do I have to?’
His lips twitched as he wrapped his hand around hers. ‘Not a chance. Can you tell how much I want you right now?’
She’d guessed. And the realisation was intoxicating.
Dark hunger branded his eyes and she swallowed. ‘As much as I want you?’
He tore the square foil packet and rolled the condom on with ease. Just watching him touch himself made her want him more.
‘Come here.’
She did. Their gazes locked, and he tugged her round so she stood, straddling his hips, then slowly, gently, he encouraged her down.
His tip nudged her, taunting heat that was wet and hungry and throbbing uncontrollably.
Buzz!
‘Not That Kind of Girl’ pealed from the clothing on the ground. A ringtone she’d stubbornly saved despite Bec’s groan that choosing Anastasia over Lady Gaga made her even less ‘hip’ than choosing clothes from K-Mart over Kate Hill.
She scrambled off, onto her hands and knees, rummaging through the pile of clothes until she found her mobile. ‘Bec?’
Lethal in Love Page 7