Suddenly, she saw his lips move, saw the demand for information in his eyes, but a huge clap of thunder drowned out the words. Seconds later, the sky opened up and began to pour. She barely noticed the rain as Cole stalked toward her with feral eyes.
“Why’d you leave this morning?” he asked again. His voice was low, guttural.
Though Genevieve told herself not to move, she was backing up before her knees got the message from her brain. The show of fear, of submission, pissed her off, added to the anger that had been simmering since she’d seen his name on those logs hours before.
So instead of answering his question, she shot back one of her own. “What the hell are you doing researching murders that happen in my jurisdiction? What the hell are you doing researching me?”
He didn’t answer, just kept walking her back until his rock-hard body was flush against hers. Once again she told herself to hold her ground. Once again she found herself backing up. All the way this time, until her back was against the rough stone wall near the end of the alley.
“You don’t want to fuck with me on this, Genevieve. Why’d you sneak out like that, without even telling me where to find you?” Cole’s voice was lower now, more animal than human as he took advantage of her predicament, closing in until she was utterly surrounded. The wall at her back, his hard, unyielding body hovering only inches from her front. His powerful biceps caging her in from the sides.
His black-magic eyes demanding that she tell him what he wanted to know.
The wind picked up, made her shudder as it whipped around them, as wild and fierce as the attraction she couldn’t fight. It lashed the rain against her, against him, as it streamed down their bodies.
He pulled back, looked at her with wicked eyes that proclaimed just how much he wanted her—and just how far he would go to have her—and she became aware, for the first time, of how she must look to him. Her clothes were stuck to her and practically transparent, her nipples showing clearly through the thin lace of her bra, the even thinner cotton of her T-shirt.
Maybe she should have been frightened, with the storm raging around her and Cole burning beside her. But ten years on a male-dominated force had ensured she was not easily cowed.
Resolving to give as good as she got, Genevieve pressed her head back against the wall and glared at him with eyes she knew reflected her own fury, as the storm raged around them. “Answer my question and I’ll answer yours.”
“Fuck that.” He grabbed her wrists with one hand, his long fingers spanning both with ease. Yanked her arms above her head. Moved the last few inches until his body was pressed against hers from chest to thigh.
His breath was coming in short, hot gasps against her ear, his heart racing crazily against her breasts. And his erection, his infinitely arousing, unbelievably sexy erection, rested hot and heavy against her stomach. The rain made the barrier of their clothes nearly nonexistent, and she felt his heat against the very heart of her.
Shock raced through her as her brain demanded that she refuse to yield. But her body was firmly in control, the pleasure it took from Cole’s unprecedented dominance more than she could fight.
She loved every second of it. Loved the vulnerability of being spread for him. Loved the little frissons of fear working their way down her spine. Loved the idea of being helpless in the face of all this bristling male aggression.
She should have felt vulnerable, but she knew she was safe—she’d trained for years to handle herself against men twice her size. She should have felt uncomfortable, but everything about Cole felt right despite his obvious interest in her case. She should have felt anything—everything—but this overwhelming need to give him whatever he wanted to take. And to take even more for herself.
His grip was firm as he stretched her wrists higher, forcing her to arch her back to relieve the pressure. But as they skimmed down her throat his lips were more gentle than she would have dreamed possible.
“Tell me why,” he whispered, running his tongue over her collarbone.
“You already—” Her voice broke and she had to start again. “You already knew where to find me.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I found your file.” She pushed against him with all the strength she could muster, but he just snarled and pushed back.
“You should have stuck around—I would have explained everything. It would have saved me the trouble of hauling you back.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
His chuckle was low, wicked. “You don’t have a clue what I’ll dare.” He reached up with his free hand, fastened on the collar of her simple cotton T-shirt. And then he was yanking, his powerful fist ripping through the material like so much fluff.
She gasped in surprise, her body shuddering as shock ricocheted through her. She started to protest, but he was pushing her bra out of the way, drawing her nipple into his mouth with a suction so strong she couldn’t tell where the pleasure left off and the pain began. She knew only that the two were hand in hand as she arched her back, begging for more. Begging for everything.
He lifted his head for a moment, looked at her in the dim light with eyes gleaming. That small break brought her back from the edge of sensual overload, and common sense reasserted itself for a moment. Pushing at his shoulders with firm hands, she said, “Cole, stop. We can’t do this here.”
“We are doing this here.” He bit down on her nipple and she nearly came unglued, her body bucking violently against him.
“But,” she tried one more time, clinging to sanity with bloody, battered fingertips. “We’re in public.”
“Then you had better be quiet,” he growled against her breast. “Because we’re not leaving here until I feel you come.”
Genevieve whimpered, tried once again to shove against his immense shoulders. But it was no use and she knew it, because she wanted this as much as he did. Maybe even more—a walk on the wild side when she’d always been so careful to follow the rules, to do nothing to draw attention to herself.
Shooting a look down the alley, she was comforted by the utter darkness and the knowledge that the tourists were too busy on Bourbon Street—and too scared of the big, bad Quarter at night—to come looking down this alley.
And then she forgot all of her concerns, the need to orgasm rising sharply with each stroke of his tongue on her breast. Her body was spinning out of control, desire taking over completely.
Moaning, panting, she pressed her breast more firmly against his mouth, relishing the feel of his tongue around her areola. Loving the sharp nip of his teeth against her diamond-hard nipple.
“Cole, please,” she begged, spreading her legs and pressing her lower body against the hardness of his thigh. She needed him against her, needed him inside her like she’d never needed anything before in her life.
He gave her just a little of what she craved. Slid his thigh between hers and let her rock against him until she was nearly insane with the need to come. Her clit was hot, her womb aching, and she was more than ready for him.
But he was so much better at the game than she, and he pulled away just as the orgasm started rising, her body one thrust away from completion.
She whimpered, tried to follow him, but he held her in place with one hand against her stomach while the other remained anchored to her wrists. “What are you—” She couldn’t finish the question, desire so out of control that she had no hope for coherent thought.
“Don’t leave like that again,” Cole whispered, licking from the valley between her breasts to the hollow of her throat.
“What?” she asked, every part of her trembling with the need for release.
“Promise me you won’t walk out like that again—without so much as a note.” His teeth sunk into her shoulder, hard, and she screamed as pleasure shot through her.
“Genevieve,” he prompted, his tongue tenderly licking away the bite marks.
“I won’t!” She gave in abruptly, too strung out to fight him anymore. “I
’ll tell you next time.”
Abruptly he lifted his head, stared at her with eyes that glowed red in the twilight shadows. “Thank you.”
Before she could figure out how to answer, the hand resting on her stomach moved. Slid inside the waistband of her pants and found her sex. Hot, wet, aching.
“Fuck, sweetheart.” He slipped one long finger inside her, curved it so he touched her G-spot with the first stroke. Then pulled back and did it again and again. On the fifth stroke of his finger she started to come, wave after wave of sensation swamping her.
He moved his thumb, circled it around her throbbing clit. Once, twice. She glanced up and into his obsidian eyes and shot over a higher, steeper edge, her body completely out of her control as ecstasy whipped through her nerve endings. Her muscles spasmed, clutched at him, wanting to take him deeper and deeper inside her until the pleasure was all-consuming, never-ending.
Cole held her through it, swallowing her cries with his mouth as his fingers continued to work her, controlling her response. Taking her higher. When she couldn’t take it anymore, when her body was so stressed out and sensitive that she was almost at breaking point, she jerked her mouth from his. Laid her head on his broad shoulder and gasped, “No more, Cole. Please, no more.”
“There’s always more, Genevieve.” But he slid his finger slowly out of her, pausing to stroke her labia once, twice. She whimpered, arched against him, so exhausted and shaken that she could barely move.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” He murmured the words against her forehead. “I’ve got you.”
A part of her wanted to argue, but any protest she made would seem pretty stupid, as his arms were the only things keeping her ass from hitting the ground. God knew her legs didn’t stand a chance of supporting her.
Slowly, so slowly it was yet another kind of foreplay, he slid her down his wet, denim-covered legs. Held her against him when her feet hit the ground and her knees wobbled. Then he leaned over, brushed her lips in a kiss sweeter and softer than she ever could have imagined.
“Let me come home with you,” he whispered, running a hand through her tangled curls. “Let me love you.”
A million arguments entered her mind, a million reasons why bringing him home was a bad idea. But as the rain continued to fall, its cool caress touching her everywhere she wanted Cole to, she answered with the only word her aroused brain was capable of forming. “Yes.”
His answering grin lit up the dark alley in a way no lightning strike could.
Chapter Six
Later, he would remember little of their walk home. He’d have no recollection of the wind whipping past their soaking bodies, no memory of the rain lashing against their sensitive skin.
But he would remember Genevieve and the way her body fit so perfectly against his own. He would remember the brush of her breast against his torso, and the lush softness of her ass under his hand as he tucked her smaller body into his.
And he would remember that first moment when she stepped over the threshold and invited him into her home. Nothing had ever felt quite so right.
Cole’s instincts were screaming at him, his desire to take Genevieve turning him nearly rabid with unfulfilled need. But she looked so dreamy, so sweet, that he found himself going slowly—despite the pounding in his brain telling him to take, take, take.
He took a deep breath—trying to control himself—but her scent was everywhere. A mixture of honeysuckle and summer and dark, delicious night. It turned him inside out.
But still, he was determined to give her sweetness as well as passion, to give her tenderness as well as desperation. Taking her hand, he brought it to his mouth. Brushed his lips over her knuckles before he turned it over and studied the delicate-looking palm.
“You have such small hands for such a capable person.”
“They get the job done.” Her voice was low, breathless, turning the mundane words into an erotic invitation—one Cole had no chance of refusing.
Lowering his head, he stroked his tongue from her wrist to the top of her palm, lingering for long moments over her chained and broken love line as he licked the raindrops from her skin. She gasped, went perfectly still. And for a moment—just a moment—she was soft and pliant, her body his to command.
He pulled her against him, savored the feel of her soft, lush curves against the hard planes of his own body. Then her arms were around him, pulling him to her, and everything he wanted to say simply faded away as desire—harsh and all-consuming—took over.
He kicked the door closed behind him and took her mouth in an assault that was at once brutal and gentle. Brutal in its intensity and focus; gentle in its execution. With a sigh, Genevieve parted her lips, allowing herself to melt into Cole despite the voice at the back of her head telling her she was making a very large mistake.
But he felt so good against her, their wet clothes only a weak barrier between them. She pressed herself more fully against him and his tongue swept over her lips, exploring every part of them—of her.
Her knees trembled yet again, and she clutched the wet cotton of his undershirt in an effort to get closer. To remain upright.
He gasped his surprise, then pulled her more tightly against him, until she could feel every part of him pressed to every part of her. His arousal was hard as a brick against her stomach and she delighted in it. Moved restlessly in an effort to feel him more fully against her.
He accommodated her, shifted his strong hands until they were cupping her ass. And then he was lifting her, shaping her, molding her against him.
“Put your legs around me,” he growled against her lips, and she did. The pleasure—the sweet, soft, incredible pleasure that came from the movement—had her gasping in delight.
He took instant advantage, his tongue slipping between her parted lips with all the subtlety of a conquering army. But as he stroked it against the top of her mouth, ran it in one glancing caress over her own tongue, Genevieve couldn’t bring herself to care. Not when his invasion sent frissons of delight through her whole being.
She rocked against him, desperate to feel Cole deeper inside her. To have him anywhere and everywhere he could go. He made a low sound that was half laugh, half growl, and ripped his lips from hers.
“Fuck.” It was a curse, a prayer, a statement of intent, and she was more than willing to let him have his way.
“Cole,” she gasped, his name suddnely the only word she knew.
He bucked against her, his cock growing harder still. Then he was kissing the corners of her mouth. She waited, lungs burning, body on the brink of an explosion, for him to continue.
But he was moving slowly, his tongue tracing every curve of her lips before he nibbled his way across her cheek, down her chin to her throat. She arched, tilting her head to the side to give him better access. Moaned as he licked at the pulse beating crazily at the hollow of her throat.
Heat sizzled along her nerve endings, burst into flames that seared her from the inside out. She pulled him closer, so close that she could feel his heart beating wildly beneath the firm muscles of his chest. So close that the fine sheen of sweat coating his throat mingled with her own.
Pushing against him, she ran her hands over his pecs. Toyed with his nipples and reveled in the involuntary surge of his hips against hers. She lifted and lowered herself, riding the hard ridge of his erection as she would if there were no clothes between them.
He groaned deep in his chest and went from teasing to dominating in an instant. Claiming her, he bit her lower lip, sucked it between his teeth and brushed against it with his tongue. He delved deeply into her mouth, so deeply that she couldn’t remember what it was like to breathe without him there.
His tongue caressed hers, circling, playing, turning her inside out with each touch. He tasted so good—of lime and tequila and dark, sizzling passion—that she knew she’d crave the taste of him for the rest of her days.
“Cole,” she moaned again, sliding her hands up to the cool, wet silk
of his hair. Tightening her fingers until she knew there was a pinprick of pain. Tightening them more until he erupted with a growl.
And then he was devouring her, his hands squeezing her ass while his denim-clad cock slid back and forth between her thighs. His mouth was everywhere, everywhere, moving down her throat to nudge aside the neckline of the too-big shirt he’d taken off to cover her for the walk home—so he could trace his tongue over the swell of her breasts. Nuzzling the curve of her breast as his tongue swept over her lace-covered nipple with small, velvet strokes that had her burning hotter than she ever had before.
She was on fire, her body aching and heavy and desperate for the feel of him within her. His fingers dipped beneath the drenched waistband of her pants, stroked her skin until all she could feel was him, all she could think of was him.
She was going to regret this in the morning, would hate that she’d let him have her so completely. But she needed him inside her, was desperate to feel his body slide between her bare thighs as he thrust into her again and again.
Cole’s teeth scraped against her nipple and she forgot her own name, let alone any reservations she had about being with him. She had never wanted anything the way she wanted him, her entire body tightening until the need to come was a screaming agony within her.
Her hands grabbed on to his shoulders and urged him closer. Urged him to take them all the way. His laugh, low and seductive, brushed against her painfully hard nipple right before he pulled it into his mouth and began to suck.
She moaned, arched her back. Pressed her breast more firmly against his mouth.
“Take me,” she murmured, as he skimmed light hands up her arms, over her back. She was adrift, all of her concentration focused on this man and his carefully controlled caresses. “Please take me.”
The words were out before she could stop them, a plea she hadn’t known she was going to utter.
“I will,” he answered, sliding his lips along her throat, and she didn’t know if she should be relieved or disappointed at his easy acceptance of the physical meaning behind her words.