"You really should have stuck around," he said. "That waiter you tripped is still getting screamed at. Sounds like a flock of crows cawing to each other."
"Where are you?" I asked.
"Still at the bar," Finn replied. "Talking to Grace."
Finn must have winked at her, because through the phone, I heard a woman laugh.
The sort of high, squawking sound the wicked witch always made in fairy-tale movies.
Must be the old, wizened dwarf I'd seen him with before.
"Grace says hello," Finn replied.
"Good for Grace," I snapped. "Want to tell me what's going on down there?" Finn sighed. "Can't you ever just relax and enjoy the show?"
"No. Now tell me what happened after I left Haley. The detective said she got up and ran off into the crowd."
"Straight to Alexis," Finn said. "Haley pulled her sister outside onto the patio. The two of them are talking right now. Alexis does not look pleased. Stephenson's with them too. Poor bastard looks faint. Keeps mopping his forehead with his handkerchief."
I smiled. Good. About time the bitch realized who she was dealing with. "Keep an eye on them, but don't let them see you. If they start to leave, call me. Don't follow them."
"Yes, master," Finn sniped. "And don't worry. Grace will keep me company." Finn hung up, and I did the same. I set my cell phone on the metal rack, right next to the toilet paper. Then I went over to the love seat and plopped down on it. The cushions squawked under my weight, and a loose spring poked me in the ass. I shifted, but I couldn't get away from the offensive metal.
Donovan Caine pushed away from the rack and paced back and forth, taking five quick steps from one side of the closet to the other. His shoes squeaked on the floor, and I felt the beginnings of a headache stir behind my eyes.
"Are you going to pace for the next hour?" I said. "Because it's already gotten on my last nerve."
The detective didn't say anything; he just kept pacing. His quick, controlled movements caught my gaze, and my eyes traced over his shoulders. His clean, soapy scent filled the closet, overpowering the burning smell of disinfectant. I remembered the last time we'd been in such close proximity-last night at Northern Aggression.
How hard Donovan Caine had felt against me. How much I'd wanted to finish what we started. And there was the promise I'd made to myself. To take what I could today before the detective and I said good-bye tomorrow.
I checked the watch on my wrist. Fifty minutes. Plenty of time. Finn was downstairs keeping watch and schmoozing the elderly dwarf, and we were safe enough up here.
Haley and Alexis James should be scrambling, trying to figure out what to do, how to answer my demands. That had been the whole point of blindsiding them in public.
They weren't a threat to us right now. As for the giant, it would take him hours to search the country club, if he even bothered. Mab Monroe had probably called him back to her side already, considering the mess I'd made getting away from him.
Donovan Caine and I had fifty long minutes all to ourselves. My eyes slid down the detective's body. I couldn't think of a more pleasurable way to pass the time.
I cleared my throat. Donovan stopped his pacing to look at me.
"You know if the James sisters agree to our demands, this is over. Tomorrow, we'll all go back to our regularly scheduled lives," I said. "Finn. You. Me." Donovan nodded. "I know."
He stared at me, emotions sliding over his face. Desire. Want. Need. Guilt. His hazel eyes devoured me, moving from my lips to my breasts and legs and back up again.
But he made no move to come toward me. No move to take what he so clearly wanted.
Up to me, then.
I got to my feet and slowly approached him. My stilettos clacked on the floor.
Donovan flinched at the sound, but he didn't look away from me. He couldn't, any more than I could stop coming at him.
I stopped about a foot in front of the detective. My gray gaze drifted over his body, as his had done to mine a moment before. Lean shoulders, solid chest, coiled strength. I liked what I saw.
"You're an attractive man, detective," I said. "I'm an attractive woman. And here we are, all alone. Together." He didn't say anything. Didn't take the opening. So I continued.
"Yesterday, when we were at the nightclub, when I was sitting on your lap, I didn't want to stop. I wanted to tear your jeans off, wanted to feel you inside me, going deeper and deeper until we were both screaming. Didn't you?"
A muscle in his cheek twitched. Still, Donovan didn't move.
"Despite our differences, I'm attracted to you, detective. Something about you fascinates me. I want you like I haven't wanted anybody in a long time. I think you feel the same way about me." For a moment, I thought he wouldn't answer. But he did. "I do want you." His voice was low, tight, strained. The confession cost him. It was all he could do to keep from reaching for me. Good thing I had no qualms about making the first move.
I stepped into his arms and put my hands on his shoulders. Then I raised my head and gazed into his hazel eyes. "So, why don't we do something about it?"
Chapter Twenty-Six
Caine stared at me. "Not a good idea, Gin. We're here for a reason, remember? To get the James sisters to back off. Nothing else. They could be looking for us." Wild desperation colored his eyes. Caine was trying to save himself, but I wasn't going to let him.
"A poor excuse. Haley and Alexis are too busy arguing about what to do right now.
Even if they weren't, they wouldn't find us. They probably think we left the club already to go somewhere and wait for their call. Until then, we've got nothing but time."
I leaned up and put my mouth beside his ear. Caine's shoulders jerked underneath my hands. He was on the edge.
"If you're worried about protection, well, I take my little white pills, so there won't be any unwanted consequences. And I assume you have a condom or two in your wallet like most men." I drew in a deep breath. "As for the issues between us, I don't care that we'll be on opposite sides again tomorrow. After everything that's happened, I want what I can have today. I want you, detective. Right here, right now." I pressed my lips to his.
It was like I'd shocked him with a live wire. He just-exploded. Donovan Caine let out a growl and yanked me to him. He turned me around and backed me against the wall, his hands bunching up the soft fabric of my dress. The detective crushed his lips against mine. This time, I didn't have to tease his mouth open. His tongue was already thrusting against mine. I welcomed the sensation.
His smell-that intoxicating, sharp scent of soap-filled my nose. Shredding my own control. My hands were everywhere. His face, neck, chest. Kneading, clutching, wanting more. Wanting to feel every inch of him at once. Trying to hang on to something that would be gone the second we left this room.
Once he had my dress out of the way, Donovan Caine reached for my panties. He ripped them off in one motion and plunged two fingers inside me. I moaned, already wet and aching for him. I hooked one leg around his waist, giving him better access.
Caine pumped his fingers inside me in a quick, steady rhythm, going deeper every time. He groaned with me.
"I've wanted to do that since the first moment I saw you on that balcony," he whispered against my lips. "Wanted to feel you."
"Then don't stop." My voice was husky with desire. "Don't stop."
Our mouths and tongues came together again, even as Donovan stroked me.
There was too much tension, too much feeling, too much need, between us to wait any longer. Donovan's free hand fumbled with his pants, getting his wallet out of them before the fabric whispered to the floor. I tried to push down his boxers, but the black silk snagged on his jutting erection. Frustrated, I ripped open the flap, freeing him, while he tore open the foil packet with his teeth and covered himself with the condom.
"Now," I rasped. "Now."
Caine picked me up, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. He pushed me back against the wall and slammed his cock into me, thrusting into me as hard and fast as he could. In a frenzy now. We both were.
I moaned again at the slick feel of him moving deeper and deeper inside me. My nails dug into his shoulders.
Every time, he thrust in, I clenched myself around him, tighter every time, getting closer to the orgasm I so desperately craved. To that sweet release. Caine buried his head against my neck. The metal rack next to us shook and rattled with our movements.
It all felt so damn good it hurt.
But it was over too quick. Less then a minute later, Caine jerked a final time and shuddered against me, finding his release. I felt him deflate and slip out. So much for stamina. I'd pushed him too hard, too fast. He was done, but I still ached with hot, throbbing need. And it wasn't going to go unfulfilled.
"I'm-I'm sorry." Caine lowered me to the floor and stepped back. "That was too rough." "It wasn't too rough," I said. "But we're not finished yet." I put my hands on Caine's shoulders and maneuvered him over to the love seat. His knees hit the back of it, and he plopped down on the spring-filled cushions. I straddled him, getting rid of the used condom and then taking his thick length in my hands. His breath quickened against my neck.
"Come on, detective. Rise back to the occasion." I teased his wet tip with the sharp point of my fingernail.
"Is that a challenge?" His voice was thick and husky with sex. His hands moved to my waist, drawing me closer. I got up on my knees and rubbed his cock against my core.
"More like an incentive."
It didn't take long for the detective to spring back to life and produce another condom from his wallet. This time, it was my turn to be on top. I set the pace, riding him long and slow, going up, then grinding down on him, a little deeper, a little quicker every time until he was muttering my name over and over. Gin, Gin, Gin.
Like it was some sort of prayer-or a curse. Sexiest damn thing I'd ever heard.
Caine groaned. His hands went to my breasts, massaging them through the fabric of my dress and bra, making me ache that much more. His lips were against my neck, and he teased me with quick nips of his teeth. I braced my hands on his shoulders, urging him on. The lean, ropy muscles there bunched and coiled just like he did inside me. My own muscles clenched and quickened in response. The pressure inside me built and built.
I threw back my head and let the orgasm rip me away from myself.
After we finished, we sat there on the love seat. Shoulders touching, one of my bare legs just on top of his. Not entwined exactly, but not distant from each other either. I would have liked to put my head on his shoulder, close my eyes, and relax. Let myself fully enjoy this brief moment of peaceful pleasure. But I couldn't do that. The sex had been personal enough already. We hadn't made love, but we hadn't just fucked either.
The beginning of a warm softness for the detective had blossomed in my chest. But I didn't want to think too much about that right now.
I'd been right about one thing, though. Donovan Caine was an excellent lover. I felt more sated than I had in a long time. There was something to be said about the experience of an older man, rather than the college boys I usually slept with. The young ones were just grateful they were getting laid-they weren't too interested in doing anything to scare me off. Like fucking me hard and fast the way Donovan had.
Or letting me do the same to them.
The detective started laughing. Sharp chortles of laughter tumbled from his lips until the force of it bent him over double, his chest touching his knees.
"What's so funny?" I asked. "This. Us. You. Me. Together."
I arched an eyebrow. "I didn't think it was so much funny as satisfying. Was I wrong?" Caine wiped tears of hysterical mirth from his flushed face. "Oh, no. It was definitely satisfying. But you're an assassin, you kill people, you killed my partner. I'm a detective, a cop, supposedly one of the good guys, and I just fucked you. Twice."
"So what's the problem?"
Donovan Caine eyed me. "You really are cold, aren't you? With nothing but ice in your veins and a slab of stone for a heart."
Cliche alert. But the detective's well-worn words described me-more than he'd ever realize.
"Don't you understand what I've done?" Caine asked. "I've gone against everything I believe in. And for what? You?"
He was pulling away from me. I'd known it was coming, but it still pricked me like a needle. I willed the softness in my chest to harden, and my cold mask settled over my face once more.
"You don't believe in fucking women?" I kept my tone light, trying to salvage something from this. A little bit of happiness I could remember later.
He ran his hand through his short, black hair, rumpling it even further. "That's not the point. I should be arresting you, turning you in for your crimes, not wondering if I have enough juice left in me for round three."
I shrugged. "We both had a good time. Why are you bringing morals into it? Because there was nothing very saintly and upstanding about the way you were moaning my name five minutes ago."
Caine stiffened, but he couldn't argue with the truth. Still, the aching need, the hot pleasure, the sweet release, was wearing off, and the old doubts were filling his eyes, along with one emotion he just couldn't quite shake-guilt about fucking his partner's killer. The detective wasn't going to get over it. Not today, maybe not ever.
I suppose I could have told him about Cliff Ingles and how dirty the other cop had been. But I didn't know that it would change things between us. Donovan's partner would still be dead, and I would still be the one who'd killed him.
