Dangerous Kisses (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 3

  You could join that commotion tonight. It’s been a long time.

  Yes, it had, and she would be smarter to keep it that way. She had spent far too many nights after her breakup with Cusack at those damned casinos, and often lost far too much money for comfort. Instead of taking to the water to clear her mind after their relationship had gone south, she had allowed herself to become wrapped up in the video poker machines.

  And let your bank account take a hell of a hit.

  No, heading out to a casino now would be completely insane, especially if she went alone.

  So call Drake.

  She barked an audible laugh at the thought, set her laptop on the sofa beside her, and got to her feet. Drake Allen was the reason her relationship with Cusack fizzled out in the first place. He was the reason she had ended up on a stool at the video poker bar inside the Grand Casino all those nights when she should have been at home.

  All because she had wanted him. Desperately. It was the kind of hunger a woman should never feel for a man when she had promised herself to another. That’s when she had known she didn’t love Cusack the way she had thought she did. Finding another man attractive was one thing. Wanting so deep in her soul to be with that man was a clear indication that her heart, mind, and every erogenous zone in her body were not where they were supposed to be.

  So she had broken it off with Cusack and buried herself in her job. It had put a strain on their working relationship for a while, especially after Cusack was promoted to sergeant, but they had made it through it.

  You didn’t.

  She stretched and closed her eyes, knowing that to be the truth. She hadn’t made it through it. The few moments she had spent ogling Drake like a horny teenager this afternoon had proved that. She still wanted him, still craved his touch, hungered to taste, to experience, to be with him. It simply didn’t make sense. She had spent time with him at the aquarium, even gone out for a drink with him once. Even that hadn’t been a date.

  But it was enough to scare the shit out of you.

  Yeah, it had definitely been that. Drake Allen terrified her to her toes. He awakened desires in her she had to fight to control, wicked, almost demonic yearnings of total submission and thermometer-bursting heat. He wouldn’t be an easy lover. A nanosecond of staring into his deep-sea eyes and she knew he wouldn’t be gentle, wouldn’t be placid. He would dominate every kiss, every touch, every breath.

  And damn if you don’t want to let him.

  She opened her eyes, forcing the thoughts of Drake and the fire igniting in her pussy aside, and gazed around her living room. Cleaning might help to clear her head. It would certainly help her apartment. Jeez, when had she become such a slob? She saw the pieces of clothing draped over the arm of the sofa and the back of the recliner, the plates of half-eaten food scattered about the coffee and end tables, the half-empty drink glasses on the bookshelf and the top of the television. It was all evidence of how hard she had worked on her last case, one she had wrapped up that morning mere moments before Cusack had sent her packing for a week.

  She jotted the chore on her mental to-do list and headed for the kitchen. A chilled glass of wine and a long soak in the tub sounded far more appealing. Glass of wine in hand, she paused at the television on her way to the bathroom, flicked it on, and let the opening jingle of the late-night news follow her down the hall. A glance in the bathroom mirror put another chore on her to-do list. Her damnable dark roots were starting to show.

  “Time for more hair dye,” she told her reflection as she moved to the tub, turned on the tap, then snagged a brush off the countertop while she waited for the tub to fill.

  Her thoughts bounced randomly as she undressed. Her parents, both marine biologists, were on an excursion somewhere in the Atlantic this week. Her brother would be at college working on his master’s, also in marine biology. Yep, she was the proverbial fish out of water in the family.

  “Ha, a fish that’s about to find her water for the moment,” she sing-songed as she eased herself into the tub.

  She sank to her chin, leaned her head back on the rim of the tub, and closed her eyes as her thoughts of the water took a different course, right back to Drake and her favorite bath-time image. She saw his bronzed flesh rippling over powerful muscles as he swam, felt his corded arms catch her around the waist and drag her under. Beneath the surface, he pulled her against his body and crushed his mouth to hers.

  Her pussy ignited in a fire no amount of water could put out. She danced her fingers over her thigh as the picture in her mind clicked like an old-fashioned slide show. They were bobbing at the surface now, their naked bodies pressed together so tightly nothing could flow between them. He caught her wrists in one large hand and held them captive behind her back. His other hand fisted in the back of her hair and he yanked her head back, delivering punishing kisses and powerful nips to her lips, her jaw, her neck. She gasped, both in the image and in reality, as he somehow lifted her, wrapped her legs around his waist, and plunged his rock-hard cock into her pussy in a single, vicious thrust.

  She tried to throw her head back as the pleasure tore through her, but his hold on her hair prevented the movement. A sound cut through her reverie, words she didn’t comprehend until she opened her eyes. The image faded, her finger between her pussy lips stilling as the newscaster’s melancholy voice floated into the bathroom from the television.

  “…on the tragedy that occurred earlier tonight at the M.P. Colton Aquarium.”

  Megan bolted upright and leaned over the side of the tub, her heart rate suddenly so fast she could barely hear the rest of the report over the pounding of her pulse in her ears.

  “Mitchell Paul Colton, owner of the M.P. Colton Aquarium located on the Biloxi beach, was apparently tending to a fourteen-foot tiger shark housed in the facility when he was viciously and fatally attacked. The reason for the attack is still unknown, but we will keep you updated as we learn more of the facts. In other news…”

  The world started to spin. Shock drained the blood from Megan’s head even as tears burned her eyes. Fatally attacked. Paul. Dead.

  “Dear God, no.” She rested her forehead on the side of the tub as reality clashed with a bone-deep disbelief in her system. It wasn’t right. It couldn’t be right. Paul. Dead. Oh my God.

  Tears spilled as the vision of him standing beside the tiger shark tank that afternoon filled her memory. He had been planning to see to the shark himself, intending to stay at the aquarium all night if he must. He had been so worried about that shark, pissed about Robert’s irresponsibility, and stressed about the fate of the facility. Still, with Paul’s knowledge and experience, he would have never allowed any of that to effect his head inside that tank. If anything, he would have used that time to clear his mind.

  She lifted her head, wiped the tears from her cheeks, and let the water out of the tub. Numbly, she got out, wrapped a towel around her body, and absently grabbed the glass of wine off the back of the toilet as she headed for the living room. She wanted to know what had happened, how it had happened. The attack had obviously occurred hours ago, likely not too long after she had left, for the news to already have confirmed reports of Paul’s death.

  “Damn it, why didn’t anyone call me?”

  Because you aren’t family and you don’t work there anymore. Both were true, but everyone there knew how close she and Paul had been. And Cusack, he would have still been on duty. He would have instantly made the connection.

  Megan pulled her cell phone from the outside pocket of her purse and thumbed through her contacts, finding Cusack’s personal number. Her thumb was hovering over the call icon when her doorbell rang. She put her cell phone and glass of wine on the coffee table and tightened the towel more securely around herself, holding it in place with one hand as she opened the door with the other.

  “I guess I didn’t wake you.”

  Megan blinked at the silhouette of the man standing on her doorstep. Goose pimples danced across her flesh as t
he smooth glide of Drake’s voice moved over her like a physical caress.

  “No, you didn’t wake me.” Her eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness cut only by the light of a streetlamp behind him and the soft light spilling out of her apartment. Both illuminated him enough for her to see one of his eyebrows head north, to see the corner of his lips twitch.

  “Do you always answer your door wearing nothing but a towel?”

  “No.” Come on girl, snap out of it. Surprise had rendered her damn near speechless. She stood frozen with one hand on the door, the other with a death grip on the towel, and couldn’t think of a thing to say.

  He grazed the backs of his fingers down her cheek and she instinctively leaned into the touch. Heat sizzled through her, zinging straight to her pussy. “You heard?”

  Though he made it more statement than question, she nodded, closing her eyes on the riot of emotions wreaking havoc inside her. Grief for Paul made her throat ache even as whips of acute arousal slashed across her breasts and slickened pussy lips at Drake’s touch.

  She swallowed and licked her suddenly dry lips, moving back so he could step into her apartment. “Do you want to come inside?”

  He hesitated a heartbeat then stepped through the threshold, stopping close as he turned to face her.

  Megan closed the door behind her and drank him in with a quick look from his tennis shoes to his eyes. Any other time, the blue-jean cutoffs and aquamarine T-shirt with the aquarium logo over his left pec would have made her mouth water. But the somberness on his handsome face combined with the sadness in his eyes had the opposite effect. He looked as though he had been through hell and, if any part of her had still doubted Paul’s death, it was erased now.

  “How did you hear?”

  Megan tipped her chin at the television. “The late-night news.”

  He raked a hand through his hair and laughed cynically. “Figures. The media jumped on it within minutes. Paul always had a hell of a time getting news coverage for events at the aquarium, but give them an attack and they’re on it like vultures.”

  Words Paul had said earlier that day in his office reverberated in her memory. Oh, that shark just swims around a tank? Show me how vicious he can be. I want to watch him bite someone in half.

  Megan shuddered. “What happened, Drake? All I got from the news report was that the tiger shark attacked him.”

  “That pretty well sums it up. It bit through him like he was a potato chip.” Drake winced and cursed under his breath. “I’m sorry. That was a shitty analogy.”

  Megan shook her head. “But why?”

  Drake shoved his hands in the pockets of his shorts, turned, paced a step away, then turned to face her again. His gaze did a slow glide down her front. Hunger so acute and primal there was no way she could miss it shot through his eyes. An echoing desire shimmered warmly in her veins. “Go put something on and I’ll tell you everything I know.”

  * * * *

  Not that I know much. Drake watched her disappear down the hall, her hips moving naturally in a seductive swing that confirmed he knew one thing for certain. He damn sure couldn’t sit here alone with her in her apartment while she wore nothing except a towel and recount the events that had played out tonight.

  He would rather rid her of the towel himself, pin her to the sofa, and forget everything beyond the feel of her beneath him, of her inner muscles clenching at his cock while he fucked her to oblivion. Said cock flexed at the thought, hardening to the point of pain behind his zipper.

  “You’re pathetic, Allen,” he muttered, disgusted with himself as he adjusted his cock in his shorts. Not that it did any good. His shaft still pulsed with the torment of wanting to sink into her fiery pussy. He hadn’t just lost his boss tonight, he had lost a dear friend. Yet, here he was, standing in Megan’s living room, thinking about little else than fucking her blind.

  Because he didn’t want to think about the rest. He didn’t want to relive those moments when he had rushed into the shark room to find Paul fighting with his last ounce of strength to get away from the tiger shark before it attacked again. He didn’t want to remember diving into that tank himself, struggling to pull Paul to safety while fighting off the shark in an attempt to protect them both. He had barely managed to do it. If Debbie hadn’t been there, he might not have made it. Still, even with her help, it had already been too late.

  “Do you want something to drink?”

  Drake turned at the sound of Megan’s voice and almost smiled. She had changed into a pair of pajama pants printed with pictures of the Marvel Avenger heroes and a matching T-shirt that swallowed her slender frame. The sight should have put out the fuse on the stick of testosterone-filled dynamite preparing to blow inside him. Instead, it only made the fuse burn faster.

  “Cute and fitting, too. I can actually see you going Black Widow on someone’s ass.”

  Megan waggled her brows, and her lips unfolded in a small grin. “They piss me off and I might.”

  He had never seen her pissed, but he didn’t doubt for a second she could take someone down a notch or ten when she deemed it necessary.

  “I could use a beer if you’ve got one.”

  Her smile dipped to a frown. “Sorry. I don’t drink beer. I’ve got a chilled bottle of Zinfandel if you don’t mind wine.”

  He would have preferred a bottle of Jack Daniels, but given his current choices…“I guess it will have to do.”

  “Have a seat. I’ll get us a glass.”

  Drake noted she picked up a nearly full glass from the coffee table and carried it with her into the kitchen. This time his attention made it farther up her back than her ass and he saw that her hair was wet from the back of her head down. The top remained dry. When he put two and two together, he realized she had apparently been indulging in a long, hot bath when she caught the news of Paul’s death.

  Would he have found her the same way, sans the sorrow, if he had stopped by unannounced under different circumstances? Hell, would she have allowed him to join her?

  Jeez, Allen. Get your head out of your cock.

  He moved to the sofa and sat down. He hadn’t come here to fuck her. He had come here because… Fuck, he didn’t really know why Megan was the first thing to pop into his mind after he left the aquarium. He supposed it was probably because he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind since he saw her that evening. He had thought about coming to see her then, about putting an end to the avoidance dance they had both been playing for years. At that point, he hadn’t actually made up his mind he would do it, though.

  No, he had come here tonight because he hadn’t wanted to be alone. He had wanted something to take his mind off of tonight, needed to find a way to forget even for just a little while. He had figured he would go to a bar, pound down a few shots and a six pack until the alcohol numbed everything. Instead, he had ended up here.

  “How did you hear about Paul?” Megan returned to the living room and handed him a glass of wine before sitting next to him on the sofa. She folded her legs and turned sideways to face him.

  Drake took a long drink, studying her over the rim of the glass. She wasn’t going to let him forget. At least not yet. Not until he told her everything. But, Christ, he didn’t want her to have to live with the images that were now permanently planted in his mind. Forget that, as a homicide detective, she had no doubt seen far worse. He didn’t believe any woman should ever have to see such a gruesome sight.

  Thank God she had already left when it happened.

  But Debbie hadn’t. The poor girl had seen it all the same as he had and had still been in hysterics the last time he caught a glimpse of her.

  “You were still there, weren’t you?” she said when he didn’t answer.

  Drake nodded, downed the rest of the wine, and set the glass on the end table. “He died in my arms.”

  Megan’s eyes swam in tears, but none of them fell. He was grateful for that. Something about seeing her cry tore at his insides. He knew she had be
en crying already when he rang the doorbell. He had seen the single tear she hadn’t dried from her face, noted the redness in her eyes her crying had left behind. If she started again, he would have to hold her and he couldn’t be responsible for what he might do when he got her into his arms.

  Her softly whispered, “Oh, God,” and the hand she placed on his thigh were torturous enough.

  He forced himself to ignore that contact and continued. “I was too late. I heard him scream, but by the time I got to him, it was too late. I got him out of the tank, but…” He left it at that. He wouldn’t describe the half-mutilated body he had pulled from the shark tank, the pain he had witnessed in his old friend’s eyes as he watched the last of the man’s life fade away.

  Megan bowed her head, staring at the finger she idly dragged around the rim of her wine glass. After several heartbeats, she looked up at him again, her eyes thankfully dry now. “Where did it bite him?”

  “His midsection.” The shark hadn’t just bitten Paul. It had taken a sizeable amount of flesh and who knew what else with it, but he kept that part to himself.

  She drew her brows together and shook her head. “That doesn’t make any sense. A shark usually catches a leg or an arm. Reflexes alone prompt a person to try to defend themselves from an attack by pushing or kicking away.”

  “Usually, yes,” he agreed. “Something about this time was different. All I know is around eight o’clock, Brandon found me feeding the penguins and asked me to let him out. He said he had forgotten his keys and we had already locked up for the night. I let him out the front door and was headed back to the penguins when I heard the first scream.”

  “The first scream? So the shark bit Paul more than once?”

  “No. The next scream came seconds later from Debbie. She made it to the tank room before I did. She—”

  “What was she still doing there?” Megan cut him off. “She works in the gift shop. The place had been closed for two hours. She should’ve been long gone by then.”

  “I don’t know.” Drake shrugged, a small part of him amused by the question. He could actually see Megan slipping into detective mode. Her question only substantiated the pensive expression on her face. “When I reached the room, she was bending over the side of the tank, trying to reach Paul. I saw what she was doing, saw all the blood and Paul sinking to the bottom of the tank, trying to swim away, but he didn’t have the strength. The tiger shark was circling the top, getting ready to attack again. I dove in after Paul, shielded him with my body the best I could, and pulled him out just before the shark came after us. I sent Debbie to call 911, but I already knew it was too late.”