Dangerous Kisses (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 4

  Megan sipped her wine, her gaze moving from him to a point across the room. He knew she wasn’t really seeing anything around them. She was lost in thought, picturing what he had just described, and attempting to understand it all.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” she said after a long moment. “You and I both know how sharks attack. They aren’t the vicious creatures people make them out to be, not unless they’re provoked.” She looked back at him. “Did you catch the name of any of the officers that responded to the call? Did they investigate at all?”

  He hadn’t needed to catch any names. He had recognized one man the moment he had stepped into the facility. “Jerry Cusack.”

  “Cusack was there?”

  “Yes, and he questioned me repeatedly. I practically ran down the entire day second by second for him, everything that happened today right up until the moment he walked in.”

  “Did he tell you anything?”

  “Yeah, to go home.” He didn’t add the sense he had gotten from Cusack that the sergeant would have much rather slapped a pair of cuffs on Drake’s wrists than to send him home. Drake had only crossed paths with Cusack a few times back when Cusack and Megan were dating, but he had caught on real quick that Cusack didn’t like him. The man obviously felt threatened by Drake. He had picked up on Drake’s attraction to Megan, an attraction Drake hadn’t bothered to hide from the man, and had let his jealousy fly. Drake hadn’t given a rat’s ass then any more than he did now. He wasn’t into stealing another man’s woman and never would have made a play for Megan when they were together. Still, he hadn’t seen it as his fault if Cusack had wanted to butt heads over a few looks and a friendship.

  “But instead you came here.” She didn’t ask why, but he could see the question dancing in her eyes.

  “I came here.” He didn’t offer any further explanation, and she let it go at that.

  “Paul talked to me about you when I was there today.” She paused, licked her lips, and his gaze was instantly there. Her pale-pink tongue trailed over her bottom lip, and his cock pulsed painfully. He wanted to feel those lips locked around her shaft, feel her velvety tongue as it licked across his sensitive flesh. “He told me I should call you when you got off work tonight.”

  Okay, apparently she isn’t letting it go. And isn’t that interesting? Paul told her to call me.

  He thought about his last conversation with Paul and knew Paul’s suggestion to Megan couldn’t have happened more than an hour or two before the man had started drilling him about her. “What for?”

  Megan’s lips twitched. “To ask you out.”

  Drake chuckled. So one of his old friend’s last feats had been matchmaking. Why am I not surprised? “Why didn’t you?” He went for point-blank. What the hell did he have to lose?

  She straightened her legs and got to her feet, rounded the coffee table and disappeared into the kitchen.

  Drake started to follow her, but decided to see where and how this played out instead.

  “I knew how worried he was about that tiger shark,” she said from the kitchen over the sounds of the refrigerator door opening, the cork popping on the bottle of wine, the refrigerator door closing once more. “I also know you. You wouldn’t have left that place tonight if—” She broke off as she walked back into the living room, sheer grief back in her eyes.

  “Then you were planning to call me tomorrow?” Drake stood and closed the distance between them. Indecision swirled in her eyes as she held his gaze and actually took a step backward. “Or had you thought you would wait until the next day?”

  Challenge sparked with the indecision and she angled her head, studying him. “Maybe I hadn’t planned on calling you at all.”

  “Why?” Being this close to her was destroying his common sense. He should stop breathing before he took in more of her strawberry scent laced with tantalizing female arousal. He should step back so that her hardened nipples weren’t brushing against his abdomen. The trouble came in telling his body to do what his mind knew it should.

  “Isn’t the guy supposed to make the first move?” she asked, her voice low and damnably sexy.

  Drake felt the dynamite explode. The excess of testosterone surged through his bloodstream. He couldn’t stop himself from touching her at that moment any more than he could stop his heart from beating.

  “I am.” He hooked an arm around her waist and yanked her hard against him. The wine in her glass sloshed over the rim onto his bicep, and she sucked in a quick breath of surprise. “Right now.” He dipped his head, stopping with his lips the smallest fraction from hers. “Are you going to tell me to stop, Megan?”

  He felt her tremble and saw a dart of fear shoot through her heated blue eyes, but neither of those sounded in her voice when she spoke.

  “I’m going to dare you.”

  A growl rumbled from low in Drake’s throat, and he didn’t stand a chance of swallowing it down. “Bad idea.”

  Did he mean those words as a warning to her or himself? He didn’t know and no longer fucking cared. He tightened his arm around her waist, reaching for the glass of wine she held with his other, and crushed his mouth to hers. He didn’t wait for her lips to part in invitation. He invaded, driving his tongue between them into the cavern of her mouth.

  Absently, he took the wine glass from her, set it on the nearby bookshelf, then captured her wrist in his hand. He backed her against the wall behind her, brought her wrist up, and pinned it to the wall. He caught her other arm when she attempted to wind it around his neck and pinned it, too. All the while, he continued his assault on her mouth.

  She tasted amazing, sweet from the remnants of the wine with a dash of a vixen sexuality he wouldn’t have guessed she possessed. Her tongue met his plunge for plunge, tangling and tasting, stroking his hunger for her into a frenzy.

  He pushed his leg between hers, lifted his knee, and pressed his thigh against her pussy. She was wet, hot, and the sounds she made into his mouth as she started gyrating on his thigh were so fucking erotic he damn near came in his shorts. Jesus, no woman had ever driven him this close to blowing his wad with a simple kiss and a hump against the wall.

  Could he make her come this way? He was almost tempted enough to try. Instead, he wrenched his mouth from hers and stared down at her. She was breathing hard, her lips swollen from the kiss, and looking up at him with so much fire and challenge in her eyes that he damn near rethought his decision.

  “Be careful what you dare me to do next time. It might not end there.” Yes, that warning was definitely meant for her. He knew when he got his mouth on her again, he wouldn’t stop with a kiss. “Go to bed, Megan. Take off those pajamas, get your vibrator out of your nightstand drawer, and masturbate for me.” He didn’t know if it was his order that made her eyes widen or the fact that he had nailed exactly what she would be doing after he left and precisely where she kept her toy. He didn’t know, really. He went for the obvious and, apparently, he had been right. “Think about me when you’re doing it. I’ll know if you don’t.”

  He released her wrists, slowly glided his hands down her sides, and turned away. He walked out of her apartment without a backward glance, doubting she had managed to move away from the wall.

  He would see her again and he would know. If she followed his order tonight, the next time he would take it further. And if she didn’t, well, he would just have to make sure she listened the next time.

  * * * *

  Megan slumped against the wall, her mind reeling, her body burning so hot she wondered she didn’t burst into flames.

  What just happened?

  She touched her swollen lips. He kissed you, that’s what.

  No, Drake hadn’t merely kissed her. He had inhaled her, consumed her, possessed her, and she had let him. The instant he hooked his arm around her, she had felt dizzy, intoxicated, as if his fingers came equipped with tiny needles that had penetrated her flesh and injected her with a heavy dose of erotic desire. Not that she had needed a heavie
r dose. Being alone with him had already put her in a state of sensory overload.

  Obviously, given the way you let him manhandle you.

  Her wrists tingled from the memory of his strong fingers clasped around them, pinning them to the unyielding sheetrock. He hadn’t manhandled her really, but he would. She didn’t doubt that. If she gave him the chance, surrendered so easily again, allowed him to touch her again, she would find herself bound by not only her wrists, but her ankles, too, while he did what he wanted to her body.

  Christ, she wanted that, and it terrified her. He scared her. The possibilities of what he could be capable of sent wicked chills of fear and devious desires zinging down her spine. Megan Pontius didn’t get scared, didn’t even get rattled, and she damn sure didn’t surrender to men. She never allowed a man to run the show. She was tough, steel willed, headstrong, and could hold her own in any circumstance.

  Except with Drake.

  No, she could hold her own there, too. Yet, a part of her she hadn’t known existed until shortly after meeting Drake didn’t want to. That part craved nothing more than to admit defeat and enjoy the promised dark pleasures she had seen swirling in his eyes tonight.

  Bad idea.

  Yeah, he’d had it right with that statement. Daring him had probably been a bad idea, a very tasty, hormone-rocketing, sense-shattering plan, but a bad one nevertheless. The man was lethal. He held the power to destroy her. He awakened things inside her she didn’t want to face, things she wasn’t sure she was ready for despite the desires churning in her soul.

  Things you need to put back to sleep.

  She straightened on legs that still trembled and snagged her cell phone off the coffee table. She threw her head back, closed her eyes as she took a deep, calming breath, and pushed the talk icon. She waited two rings, and a familiar male voice filled the cellular waves.

  “Cusack.” The single word was sharp and alert, telling her he was still awake.

  “Where are you?” She paced her living room floor, too unsettled to sit.

  “About to crawl into bed.” Cusack’s tone turned seductive. “Want to join me?”

  “This isn’t a personal call, Sergeant.” She purposely used his rank, making it clear she hadn’t called him for a trip down memory lane or to rekindle what they once had.

  “You called my personal line, Detective.”

  Megan rolled her eyes. “Touché. Why wasn’t I notified?”

  Jerry sighed into his phone. “I had a feeling you would be calling. You took longer than I expected.”

  She wouldn’t have if Drake hadn’t showed up on her doorstep, but she didn’t tell Jerry that. “Why didn’t you call me?” She refused to let up on this. Damn it, he knew how much Paul had meant to her.

  “It wasn’t a homicide, Megan.” His tone softened, his voice filling with compassion. “It was an accident. A horrible one that left no one at fault but the shark. I can’t very well take a fourteen-foot tiger shark into custody and neither could you.”

  “Don’t make jokes, Jerry,” she snapped. “Not now.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that to be funny, nor did I mean to sound insensitive.” He paused for a heartbeat, and she heard the sounds of ice cubes hitting a glass in the background. “How did you hear?”

  “The late-night news report.”

  “I’m sorry about that, too. I thought about calling you, but I knew if I did, you would be up there in a flash.”

  Megan ran out of space to pace, whirled around, and started again. “Damn right I would’ve been.”

  “And there wouldn’t have been a reason for you to be. It wasn’t a pretty sight, Megan. Paul was a close friend to you, a father figure. I know that. I didn’t want you to remember him the way I’m going to.”

  “I appreciate your concern,” she said through gritted teeth, “but it was the wrong choice.”

  “It was as much an official choice as it was a personal one. There were no indications in that facility that led me to believe what happened to Paul was anything more than a terrible accident. I interrogated everyone at the scene then ordered the place sealed until morning.”

  “The sharks—”

  “Will be fine for now. Drake Allen informed me of an argument over the temperature of the shark tanks that occurred this afternoon, apparently shortly before Paul’s death. I had him check the gauges before I sent him home. I also checked it myself before I left. The temperature is holding at a steady seventy-five degrees.”

  “The self-cleaning system on that tiger shark tank won’t be enough after something like this. The tank will have to be manually cleaned.”

  “I’m aware of that.” Cusack’s tone rang with patience. “I also know that no harm will come to that shark or any of the other fish in that tank from swimming in bloody water for a few hours. Since I have you on the phone, you can tell me who would be in charge of that. I’m assuming before he was fired today, it would have been Robert Warren. Who is next in line?”

  “Drake.”

  Cusack made a sound that might have been laughter, but was full of derision. “Yeah, I figured that. I’ll get in touch with him first thing in the morning. He can get a small crew together, and I’ll let him in to take care of the tank.”

  “I’ll be there, too.” Megan made the decision in a finger snap.

  “Need I remind you that you are on vacation, Detective?” Warning cut through the patience in his voice.

  “Need I remind you, Sergeant, that you told me use the week to get out, hit the water, spend some time with the marine life? I’ll be hitting the water in that tank tomorrow morning, spending time with the shark that took Paul’s life.”

  “As part of the crew I intend to allow Allen to bring in,” Cusack guessed correctly, sounding none too pleased by the idea.

  “With both Paul and Robert gone, he’ll need someone with the skill to handle that shark. I’ve got the skill, I’ve got the knowledge, and I’ll be there.”

  “Are you seeing him now?” Though calmly asked, accusation laced his voice.

  The question threw her for a loop. She knew he suspected Drake was the reason she had broken off their relationship. He had interrogated her more than once before they broke up about her involvement with Drake. She simply hadn’t expected him to bring that up tonight.

  “No, nor have I ever been.” Her gaze flicked to the wall where a few scant minutes before Drake had her pinned there, kissing her breathless and sending her desires sailing to uncharted waters. That kiss didn’t mean they were seeing each other. Even if he hadn’t ended it where he had, when he had, whatever would’ve come next wouldn’t have changed the facts. It would have been a few hours of rumpled sheets, sweaty bodies, and mind-blowing fucking. Nothing more.

  Would it have been enough?

  Yes. No. Maybe. She didn’t know. One night of explosive fucking with Drake Allen might be enough to get him out of her system for good. Then again, it could capitalize the D in her doom.

  “Get some sleep, Megan.” Cusack sighed. “I guess I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  Megan stared at the phone for a long moment after he cut the connection. Sleep. The word acted as a trigger for the wave of exhaustion that suddenly washed over her. She rolled her neck, feeing the stress already setting into her muscles, turned off the lights in the front of the apartment, and walked to her bedroom.

  Her gaze immediately landed on her nightstand, on the partially opened drawer, and Drake’s parting words reverberated in her memory.

  Go to bed, Megan. Take off those pajamas, get your vibrator out of your nightstand drawer, and masturbate for me. Think about me when you’re doing it. I’ll know if you don’t.

  Will he? Unless he had managed to plant a video camera in her bedroom, she didn’t see how.

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course he won’t know.”

  She turned off the light and crawled between the sheets, her body still burning from the kiss, from his touch. She turned her head, stared at that
drawer, and contemplated relieving that burn. It wouldn’t help. The drawer was partially open because she hadn’t closed it completely last night when she had gone in search of a release that only left her wanting more.

  Think about me when you’re doing it.

  She always did, but her vibrator proved no match for the real thing. She wanted Drake’s cock inside her, wanted his hands and mouth all over her, and until she got that, she would never be satisfied.

  Turning onto her side, she cuddled her spare pillow to her chest, and drifted into a restless sleep.

  Chapter Three

  The idea of a freshly brewed cup of coffee drew Megan out of bed at seven the next morning. She had barely managed four hours of sleep, all of which had been wrought with nightmares of Paul’s attack, of horrifying images of her friend’s last moments alive.

  She stumbled into the kitchen, wrenched open the cabinet door, and cursed a blue streak when she remembered she had used the last of the coffee grounds yesterday morning. She placed her hands on the edge of the counter, bowed her head, and closed her eyes.

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

  The opening heavy metal bars of Iron Maiden’s Sea of Madness flowed through the apartment from her cell phone, and she lifted her head, a slow smile unfolding on her lips. She had forgotten she had set that ringtone for Drake’s calls. The man had only called her a handful of times over the years. The song was perfect, though, given that she felt like she was drowning in a sea of madness every time she got near him.