She was silent.
He hated it when she got silent. “Sophie…”
“What do you think?” Sophie asked as she tilted her head. A lamp was on in his bedroom, so he could see the delicate lines of her profile. “That I have this amazingly long list of lovers that I’m going to share with you?”
“You said you had preferences when it came to your lovers.” Those words had burned into his mind. “You want a man who isn’t afraid of danger. A man who doesn’t mind getting dirty.” He’d love to show her how dirty he could be.
“I do enjoy men with a certain edge, but I don’t always indulge that particular need.” Her voice was soft, a seduction in itself. “I know it’s risky to let someone get close.”
He was close to her right then.
“Do you really need that list?” Sophie continued, seeming to hesitate. “To do your job?”
Yes. “You can tell me or Dev will just dig into your past and find it out for me.” He shrugged. “Having you tell me on your own just seemed easier.”
“Dev,” she repeated the name, her voice slightly wooden. “He’s the one so good with computers, right? A few taps on the keyboard, and he finds all your little secrets.”
He wasn’t surprised that she knew about Dev’s skill set. A woman like Sophie would have done her research on VJS Protection.
“Has he already found some of my secrets?” Sophie asked as she stepped closer to Lex. Her tone was different. Angry. Desperate? She put her hand on his chest, as she gazed up at him. She still had on her heels. He didn’t even know how in the hell she hadn’t lost those things during the commotion on the street.
“He found some,” Lex allowed. Why lie?
“What did he learn?”
His hand rose and slid down her arm. He’d been playing nicely with her so far, but if the woman was determined to hold back on him, she was just putting herself in greater danger. He couldn’t allow that. To unmask her stalker, he needed to know everything about her. And, yeah, he had Dev hacking into her past. Dev was looking for her lovers. But Lex wanted Sophie to trust him enough to actually tell him about her past.
“What did he learn?” Sophie said again, her voice sharper.
His fingers slid over her. First her arm, then his hand curled around her hip. “When you were a girl, you spent a lot of time in the hospital, didn’t you?”
He heard her sharply indrawn breath, and he almost stopped.
Almost.
But her life was on the line. The bastard out there wasn’t just playing some game. He was a threat that had to be eliminated.
And I already told her that I’m no gentleman.
His hand slid up her ribcage. “Broken arms, broken ribs. So many accidents for such a young girl.”
She trembled beneath his touch.
“The police were called in a few times, weren’t they?” Lex asked her.
“The ER docs have to report,” Sophie whispered.
He leaned toward her. “Did those doctors think you were being abused, Sophie?”
Silence.
“They did, didn’t they? You were hurt so much.” And it pissed him off. “But the cops didn’t stop the pain, did they?”
“No one stopped it.” Her voice had gone flat. Completely cold.
“Who hurt you?” Lex asked. “Your mother? Your father? Both of them?”
“Stop it.”
“Someone was hurting you. For years. Dev got access to your medical reports, so we know what went down. The cops didn’t stop the abuse. You just kept being hurt.” Not just hurt, tortured. “Where was your good buddy Ethan back then? Why didn’t he help you?” Because he knew they’d grown up together. Sophie and Ethan Barclay. “Or good old Finn. I saw the photo of the three of you.”
She shook her head.
“You, Ethan, and Finn. You all looked barely eighteen. If both of those guys were there back then, why didn’t they help you? Why didn’t they—”
“Stop it!”
Exactly. “Why didn’t they stop it, Sophie?”
She shoved against his chest. “Don’t talk about Ethan, understand?”
Ah, and they were back to that. Her almost fanatical loyalty to the guy. “You’re so close to him, but Ethan isn’t here, is he? Why didn’t you go to him for protection?”
“I don’t want Ethan to know—”
“Why the fuck not?” His fury exploded.
“Because Ethan would kill for me!” The words came out of her as a scream and he knew her control had broken.
Sophie clapped her hand over her mouth.
But the damage had already been done.
“Did he kill for you before?” Now things made sense. “Your parents…their murders were never solved, were they? The cops had suspicions that you were involved, but they never pressed charges against you. Hell, how could they? You had medical reports a mile long. No jury in the world would have ever convicted you.”
But Ethan Barclay would have been another story. Had she covered for that man, all those years? Because, judging by the passion in her voice, she absolutely believed Ethan would kill for her.
She pulled her hands from him. Straightened her shoulders. “You don’t know me.”
“Because you won’t let me know you.” Suddenly, what she’d said before made sense. “Once,” he said, throwing that one word back at her. “You said that you and Finn had been lovers once. You meant that. You only slept with him once.” More details started to click for him and he spoke faster, saying, “You told me…you just said that you didn’t let people get close, but lovers are close, aren’t they, Sophie?”
She backed up a step. “I’m done for the night. I’ll answer your questions in the morning.”
In the morning, her control would be back in place. In the morning, she’d have nice, pat, safe answers to give him. He didn’t want safe. He wanted real. And if he had to keep pushing her, so be it. Just more sins to add to his already blackened soul.
But she’ll be safe. I’ll know her secrets so I can protect her.
“You take dangerous lovers.” This was all info she’d revealed to him, but now he’d put the pieces together. “Because they’re men you won’t fall for, right? You seduce them, they seduce you—whatever the hell your game of choice is. But it’s just once, right? You don’t stay with your lovers long. Just—”
“Once,” Sophie said flatly. Her gaze glinted up at him. “That’s all I need. I’m not looking for some kind of forever. Some lasting love. I know that’s all just BS. But we all need pleasure every now and then, don’t we? We need to feel like we’re not alone in the dark.”
He stared down at her.
“You want a list? Fine.” Her voice was too brittle. “You already know about Finn. I was with him when I was eighteen.”
He’d pushed, but he didn’t want—
“Alec Farrell.”
His stomach muscles clenched.
“I think I was twenty-one then.”
He fucking knew the guy’s name. And he’d heard plenty about the man’s ties to organized crime.
“Kurt Allan.”
Another name that was familiar. The guy was a music mogul—one who’d crashed and burned hard after his brother was found murdered in Kurt’s hotel room.
Shit, had Sophie defended the guy in that case? He thought she might have.
“Bruce Mitchum.”
Now he had to fist his hands. He actually knew that guy—personally. Bruce was an ex-SEAL, and they’d crossed paths more than a few times. Bruce had always struck him as a serious jerk—a man who sought out danger and said to hell with the consequences.
Yeah, she definitely seemed to have a type all right.
He waited for more names to come. He was damn well braced for them.
Sophie kept glaring at him. “Happy now?”
No, he was—“Wait, that’s it?”
She huffed out a hard breath. “I don’t like for people to get close, but sometimes, I just—I need, Lex. Da
mmit, I need, too.”
Then she spun away. Sophie’s hand flew out and he knew she was going to slam that door shut on him.
And it was too much. He’d pushed, but he hated the tremble in her voice. Hated the idea of her with any other man—
But me.
His feelings weren’t rational. He wasn’t rational. Lex didn’t care. He grabbed the door before it could slam on him. His fingers curled around the wood and he shoved it back. “You think you’re the only one who needs something in the dark? Someone?”
She stumbled back, then stilled.
She didn’t tell him to get the hell out.
Her mistake.
“You like danger, Sophie? The thrill that comes with the fast hookups?” Finn didn’t fit that bill—not exactly—but had the others truly just been one night stands for her? “I can give you that thrill. Right here. Right now.” It was wrong. They were both still riding the edge of adrenaline from that near run-in with the black car. He’d pushed too much. He’d—
Sophie tossed her blouse aside. “Right here.” She just stripped the garment off in a flash.
What. The. Fuck?
She had on a black scrap of a bra. Her breasts spilled forward.
“Right now.”
She pushed down her skirt. She had on thigh-highs—seriously sexy thigh highs that made his already erect cock surge even more.
“Once is always enough for me. Once, then we get back to life as normal.” She stood before him in her underwear, those insanely sexy thigh highs, and those make-me-beg shoes, and she was actually telling him that once would be enough.
No way.
He touched her, aware that his fingers shook a bit when he slid them against the smooth skin of her arm. When a man was offered a waking wet dream, a little shake was normal. “Once…” His voice was too rough. “Once will be one hell of a start.”
He wasn’t like the others. He didn’t want the quick thrill of touching a woman like her.
He wanted her.
For fucking keeps.
He lifted her up against him and his mouth took hers. There was no restraint. No gentleness. No holding back. He was too far gone for that, and he knew that she was, too.
He feasted on her as they staggered to the bed. His hands roamed over her back, down to the lush curve of her ass. The silk of her underwear was in his way, and he wanted that scrap gone. He wanted her, just her.
He put her on the bed. Right in the middle of that king-sized bed. He’d fantasized about her there so many times.
He’d done this—pushed too much, and now they were both going up in flames. He should stop, he should—
“Stop now, and we’ll both be sorry,” Sophie said.
Her legs were spread and his gaze couldn’t leave the apex of her thighs. He dropped right there. Fell to his knees by the edge of the bed and yanked her toward him. Her legs slid against his shoulders and he put his mouth against her sex. The lace grew wet—from his mouth, from her, and her sharp moan was perfect music to his ears. She arched toward him, slamming her hips up, and his fingers jerked that scrap out of his way so that he could taste her.
She always smelled like strawberries, but she tasted far, far sweeter. He licked her. He sucked. He thrust his index finger into Sophie and made her moan again. He loved the wild pant of her breath. Lex was going insane for her taste and—
She came against his mouth. Hell, yes.
He surged up. Because he was damn lucky, he managed to yank open his jeans and actually get a condom on in near record time. There were no more preliminaries. There was nothing but her. He drove deep into Sophie, and the contractions of her release immediately had her sex clenching tightly around him.
Tight. Tight. She is so fucking tight.
So good that he nearly exploded right then. His hands fisted on the covers because he was actually afraid of touching her. Afraid he’d be too rough and bruise her because he was that far gone. He leaned over that bed, and he drove into her. Hard. Deep. Again and again, and her legs rose to wrap around him.
He needed to see her breasts. One hand yanked at her bra, and the material seemed to tear away. Her breasts—with pretty pink nipples—thrust up toward him. He took one in his mouth, and Sophie’s sex clenched around him again. Hot damn, but he thought she was building toward another orgasm. He wanted to get her there before he gave in to the climax building for him.
He thrust again. He lifted her hips, positioning her so that his cock slid over her clit. When her nails bit into his shoulders, he knew she liked that—a lot. So he thrust again, gliding right over that sensitive spot even as he sank balls-deep into her.
She jerked beneath him, gasping out his name as she came. The contractions of her sex sent him right over the edge—over and into a volcano of pleasure. Hot, consuming, perfect. He shuddered and emptied himself in her.
When the pleasure finally started to wane—because those waves kept coming in slow bursts—he lifted his head. Her eyes were open. On him. So blue.
Once? He was supposed to be satisfied with one night with her?
No damn way.
Chapter Five
Clark Eastbridge didn’t normally visit prisoners at night. He didn’t normally pull strings to get special treatment. It just wasn’t his way.
But this wasn’t a normal situation.
He waited, his foot tapping a bit nervously, as the guard brought the prisoner to him.
The overhead lights glinted off Daniel Duvato’s red hair. The guy was dressed in the usual orange prison garb, and a dark line of stubble covered Duvato’s jaw. When he saw that Clark was waiting for him, the guy’s eyes narrowed in fury.
“Not the freaking ADA again.” Duvato jutted up his chin. “Not supposed to talk with you unless my lawyer is here!”
Right, that was the drill. And that was also why—
The door burst open. Phil Dunnway rushed into the room, suit rumpled, tie unknotted. “Don’t say a word!” Phil blasted to his client. “If there’s a deal on the table, I want to hear it.”
Christ. Clark shook his head. “This is a courtesy visit, nothing more. Nothing less.” It was a visit that he was already seriously regretting. But after that near accident with Sophie right outside of the courthouse, he’d just had to pay a visit to Duvato. “There’s been a threat against you, Mr. Duvato.”
The guy just laughed. Another asshole with a god complex. The fellow probably thought he was bulletproof, even in jail.
“A man has threatened to kill you, Mr. Duvato,” Clark continued doggedly. “I wanted you to know—”
“I’m locked up!” A guard had shoved Daniel into the chair across from Clark. Daniel lifted his cuffed hands and pointed toward the guard. “I got these bozos around me twenty-four, seven. I don’t think I have to worry about any threats.”
Actually, he did. Jail hits were all too common. Anyone could be taken out, anywhere, if the price was right.
“Wait, wait!” Phil leaned forward, slapping his briefcase on the table in front of Duvato. “Is this threat credible? Is my client in danger?” He puffed up his chest. “Because if so, I want him moved to a new facility, immediately!”
Yes, he’d kind of thought that might be the guy’s plan. “I don’t know if the threat is credible yet.”
Phil frowned. “Who made the threat?”
That was where this got interesting. With his gaze on Duvato, Clark said, “Sophie Sarantos was attacked last night.”
Daniel leapt to his feet. The guard instantly shoved him back down. When his cuffed hands hit the table, they collided with Phil’s briefcase. The briefcase tumbled off the edge of the table, and Phil hurried to collect the spilled contents.
Sophie’s briefcase had spilled, too. Notes had been all across that road. But Sophie had been all right.
“A man broke into her home. He told her that he was going to kill you. Sophie reported the threat to me. She wanted to make sure you were safe.” Which made no damn sense to him, considering that D
uvato had tried to kill Sophie.
“Is she okay?” Duvato asked, and some of the hard bravado had actually left his face.
Clark could only shake his head. “You tried to kill her, and now you want to know if someone else hurt her?”
Duvato tried to rise again. And, again, the guard shoved him right back down.
“I liked Sophie. Always did,” Duvato gritted out. “What I did…it had to be done. It was the only way to punish Ethan.”
Right. Ethan Barclay. Clark held no love for that SOB. He’d been trying to nail the guy for crimes, hell, for years. But Barclay was too good at covering his tracks.
With Sophie’s help, no doubt. He’d long suspected she and Ethan were lovers.
“The cop told me there would be no deal,” Duvato said suddenly. “That lady detective…”
Faith Chestang. Yes, Clark knew her. She’d been the one to run lead on Duvato’s case.
“But she’s friends with Ethan. Another cop on the take with him. So she doesn’t want to hear what I’ve got to say about my ex-boss.” Duvato’s eyes gleamed. “You want to hear what I got to say? Because I’d sure like to see him tossed into a cell right beside mine.”
He hadn’t come there for a deal. He’d gone there to give Duvato a warning. But now…Maybe I can put that bastard Barclay away. “I might be interested,” Clark allowed.
Phil surged forward. “No! Not yet!” He held his briefcase in front of him like it was some kind of shield. “I have to speak with my client first. I need to know just what kind of evidence he’s got. That way I can see—”
Clark waved his hand, cutting through Phil’s words. “You want to see just what you can get. Well, here, I’ll save you some trouble. I’ll tell you what I want. I want enough evidence to convict Ethan Barclay—not for a year, not for two years.” That just wouldn’t cut it. “I want to make sure he won’t be a threat to anyone else ever again, do you understand? So don’t jerk me around. Give me something real, and in return, I’ll try to make sure that the next twenty years aren’t a complete living hell for Duvato.”
Then Clark marched for the door. “I’ll be back at nine a.m. Either you’ll have evidence for me or there will never be talk of another deal again.” Because he already had Duvato dead to rights, thanks to a confession the guy had given while in custody. But to get Ethan Barclay? Oh, hell, he might just bend a few rules.