Running With the Devil (9 page)

“No. Don’t close your eyes,” he whispered against her nape. “Look at how sexy you are.”

Kenna blinked. Her slumberous gaze met his in the mirror. “Don’t tease. You already know one touch from you sets me on fire. Put your money where your mouth is, March. Make me feel good before someone spoils the moment.”

Someone? Meaning a stranger busting in? Or either one of them regaining their sense and slamming on the brakes?

He didn’t have the fortitude to deny her—or himself—the satisfaction of watching her climax.

Drake nipped the tempting slope of her shoulder and dragged his thumb across creamy wetness. Her clit flowered beneath the relentless rubbing of his thumb. “Like that?”

“No, faster,” she panted.

He increased the pace.

“Harder. Please. Oh God. More.”

Growling at the raw need vibrating through her, he curled his fingers over her mound, pressing his palm on the ridge of her swollen pussy. “Ride my hand. Take what you need.”

She did. Pumping her hips, grinding her pelvis. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t. Come on, Kenna, it’s right there. I can feel it.”

After a few hard strokes, she arched and moaned loudly.

Drake clamped his free hand over her mouth. “Ssh, baby. When we’re alone you can flat out scream, but not now.”

He kept an unrelenting rhythm on her pulsing clit until the contractions started.

She bit his palm.

He held fast, staggered by the strength of her orgasm when his fingers hadn’t even penetrated her. Every throbbing pulse seemed to echo in his bloodstream. His cock hardened, sweat poured down his back and he staved off his own release by clenching his butt cheeks. Finally the spasms beneath his hand slowed. Stopped.

Her eyes had closed, but he didn’t care. With her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen from his hungry kisses, Kenna’s face read sheer ecstasy. She slumped against him.

Drake licked a trickle of sweat from her throat, trying to find his balance. “How’s your head?”

“I think the top of it blew off.”

Smiling, he tugged her skirt back in place. Indulged in a leisurely journey up her curvy body, promising himself on the next go-around, he’d take his own sweet time. “We’d better go.”

“Mmm. I could just curl up on the floor and take a nap.” She unwrapped her arm from around his neck and lurched forward.

“Whoa,” he said, catching her before her forehead cracked into the mirror.

“What’s wrong with me?”

As much as his male ego would like to credit her disorientation from a mind-bending orgasm, he knew better. He tipped her face up. Her pupils were small and those beautiful lavender eyes that sparked fire were unusually vacant. “You sure the pills Marissa gave you were just aspirin?”

She paused, pressed her shaking hand to her temple. “No.”

“And yet you just took them?”

“Yes. My head hurt and Marissa wanted to help. That’s what friends do. Besides, she gets migraines. Probably they had codeine or something good in them. No big.” Kenna snuggled against his chest, her breathing deep and slow. “I’m so tired. You’re so warm, Drake. I just wanna curl up and sleep.”

“You can sleep when we get back to the room.”

Her head lolled back to his sternum. “Wanna sleep now. In my own bed.”

Drake shook her lightly. “You’ve got to stay awake. We rode the bike here, remember?”

“I’m not much of a biker chick. Leave me here.”

“No way.” He unclipped his cell phone and dialed Geo.

“S’matter? Afraid the real cops will find me?”

He stared at her. What the hell was she babbling about? Did she have a head injury? “Real cops?”

Geo’s voice boomed in his ear, “Yo, boss, what’s up?”

“Where’s the van?”

“Parking lot behind the Super-Value. Where are you?”

“Some T-shirt shop. Look. Something is wrong with Kenna and she’s in no condition to return to the motel on the back of the bike.”

“What do you want us to do?”

“Meet us at the van.”

Getting Kenna out of there presented a problem. She could barely stand. She’d hate to make a scene, so no way could he carry her out of the store. People would assume she was drunk. What if they ran into that Trent guy and the head of her department?

What to do?

The ideal solution clicked and he grinned.

“Kenna.”

“Go ‘way.”

“No. If you don’t snap out of this, I’ll fasten a sparkly dog collar to your neck and drag you down Main Street.”

“S’okay.”

Drake slapped her ass hard enough to get her attention. “Good. I’ve always had a Master/slave fantasy. Thanks for helping me fulfill it.
In
public.
”

As expected, her eyes opened. A bit blearily, but opened nonetheless. “In your fucking dreams, pervert. Let’s go.”

She leaned on him pretty heavily the ten blocks it took to reach the van, but she made it.

Once her head hit the seat, she was out.

She didn’t stir as he removed her boots. He debated on whether to undress her. Wasn’t a flash of conscience that stopped him. The first time he peeled off her clothes and revealed her succulent body, she’d be fully conscious and a willing participant in the process.

Drake tucked her in bed with a chaste kiss on her pale cheek.

When Bobby and Geo returned, he requested that Geo run Trent Eagle through the criminal data banks. And just for the hell of it, he added Marissa Cruz and Kenna’s roommate Shawnee Good Shield to the list. Seemed mighty convenient Shawnee’s boyfriend had ended up with Kenna’s grant last year.

He briefed them on his meeting with the local DEA agent, Mickie Fuller. She hadn’t heard any rumors about Diablo. In fact, she’d questioned the validity of Drake’s source of information. Yet he couldn’t ignore his gut feeling that Kenna was a link and would somehow lead him to the answers he’d been seeking on Diablo. If the private party tomorrow night didn’t shed new light on this case, he’d have no choice but to drop it and head back to Miami.

Darkness fell. Activity outside the motel increased as the serious partiers took to the night. Bored, Drake lounged on his lumpy bed, drinking lukewarm Mountain Dew and clicked between ESPN and Fox Sports Net. When his stomach rumbled for the third time, he eyed the Styrofoam box holding Kenna’s ham and cheese sandwich.

He hated this part of the job. Killing time in another nondescript motel room. Eating crappy take-out. Watching mindless TV. His gaze flicked to Kenna for the hundredth time, curled into a ball beneath the tacky bedspread. Oblivious to the Marlins’ recent homerun. Oblivious to the red wig sliding off her head. Oblivious to his concern and his obsessive need to check her vital signs every five minutes.

There must’ve been a powerful sleeping aid in the pills she’d taken. She’d crashed more than six hours ago. He wondered what he’d do when she woke up. Hell, the question was: What would
she
do when she woke up?

Would she remember the hot, unbelievably sexy interlude in the dressing room? Or had losing her inhibitions been a reaction to the drug?

No regrets on his part. He’d been so turned on he’d nearly followed her over the edge.
Stop thinking about it.
Didn’t need to spend the entire evening with his cock as hard as a baseball bat.

As if sensing his intense focus, Kenna rolled flat on her back and groaned.

Immediately Drake shot off his bed and loomed over her. His fingers longed to caress her soft cheek, sweetly creased with sleep. But he jammed his hands in his pockets away from temptation. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

“Hungry.” She blinked. “What time is it?”

“Nearly ten.”

“At night?” Kenna frowned. “Why am I…” She patted the wig. Flipped back the covers. “How did I get here? The last thing I remember…” Her startled gaze flew to his.

“What do you remember?”

“You barging into the dressing room and then we…I mean you made me…” Her cheeks burned cherry-red.

Drake had two choices. Let her off the hook or force her to deal with the heat between them. “Say it.”

She recoiled against the headboard and shook her head. The wig plopped to the pillow.

“Then I will. I made you come, Kenna.”

A beat passed. The shrinking violet disappeared. She leapt from the bed, fury in her eyes. “Did it make you feel like a big macho man that you made me lose complete control? That I was begging you?”

“Yes.”

Kenna paled and he backtracked in a hurry.

“I didn’t give you an orgasm because my ego needed it. I did it because you needed it.” He reached for her, dropping his hand at the last second when she flinched. “It was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

She didn’t look convinced.

“You have no idea how appealing you are, do you?” he murmured. “A smart brain and a smart mouth. I’ll bet none of the other gutless men you’ve been with have stood a chance, have they?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on. The safe men you choose. Men who follow your rules. You might be used to calling the shots, sweetheart, but so am I.” He smiled. “It bugs the shit out of you that you
liked
the element of danger. That anyone could’ve walked in and caught us with my hand up your skirt.”

“You think you know me so well? After what?” She threw her arms in the air. “One day?”

That snotty little attitude snapped his composure. He grabbed her shoulders and got in her face. “Yes, I do know you. I know how your body reacts when I touch you. I know your scent. I know what sounds you make when you can’t think of anything but how good it feels when I put my hands on you. But most of all, I know that this need between us won’t go away just because you want it to.”

She stared at him. “It isn’t the need that I want to go away.”

The stark expression in her eyes knocked the fight right out of him.

Frustrated, Drake released her. “I need some fresh air. There’s a sandwich on the table. I’ll be back.”

The heat of the day had lingered long past sunset. He paced on the concrete sidewalk in front of their room, debating on sharing his misery and stupidity with his partners.

But he’d never been the type of guy who spilled his guts. Mostly he’d sucked up his problems. When that didn’t work he sucked down large amounts of tequila. Not an option when he was on duty.

Something sharp pierced his heel. He glanced at his bare feet. Shit. He’d been so hell bent on escaping from the dismayed look on Kenna’s face he’d forgotten his damn shoes. Cursing, he dug in his pocket for the room key and unlocked the door.

She sat on the end of the bed, to-go carton on her lap. The sandwich untouched. She didn’t bother looking up.

Her complete posture of dejection cracked that hard part of his soul he’d toughened years ago. Survival in his day-to-day dealings with criminals demanded that no part of him remained soft.

But Kenna was soft. He didn’t have to be hard, crude and arrogant with her.

Drake knelt on the carpet at her feet. “I’m sorry.”

Surprised, she gazed into his eyes. Nodded.

“You need to eat. Here,” he picked up the box and set it on the table. “Sit down. I’ll get you a soda.”

She slid into the wobbly chair. “No caffeine.”

“Anything else?”

“A bag of M&Ms would go a long way in redeeming yourself.”

He smiled. “Done.”

After she’d wolfed the sandwich, a bag of SunChips, a package of chocolate chip cookies and the M&Ms, she climbed in the shower.

The floral scent of her shampoo wafted into the room. Drake closed his eyes, steeping himself in her fragrance. Filling his mind with images of her damp skin gliding across his.

He wanted her. Wanted to taste her, warm and soft from the shower. Wanted to run his hands over every hidden hollow as she rode him hard. His cock jerked when the water shut off.

Better to avoid temptation and finish his paperwork. He spread out his notes, plugged in his laptop and didn’t acknowledge her when the bathroom door opened.

It was gonna be a long-ass night.