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  “Okay,” he said, pulling her closer.

  “Okay what?” She wanted to hear exactly what he was promising.

  “No more snooping around in your or your brother’s life without at least letting you know I plan to do so. No telling you what to do, unless it’s an imminent threat to your well-being, like a car bearing down on you. Then I reserve the right to act accordingly and ask forgiveness later.”

  “I can live with that stipulation. And?”

  “No going through your personal belongings without your permission.”

  “Good,” she said, slowly pushing her arms up over his shoulders and standing on her tip-toes so she was pressed against his body. “One last thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “Kissing me without asking permission?”

  “Yes?” he asked, one brow arched and the corner of his mouth lifted in slight amusement.

  “That infringement on my personal space and privacy, I rather liked.”

  All amusement left his face and he crushed her to him, his mouth claiming hers in a hot rush.

  Heat and need melted together deep inside her. She slid her hands into his thick, wavy, dark hair, trying to bring him closer, as she gave herself to the demand of his kiss. Her tongue met his in a dance of thrust and parry. Each taking and submitting.

  His hands slipped down her back to spread across her ass cheeks, squeezing them with his long fingers and palms. Adjusting her footing on her tip-toes to cradle his erection with the junction of her thighs as he pulled her in tight. Pelvis to pelvis.

  This. This was what she needed. The power to make him lose control. To feel all that strength of him claiming her.

  A groan rumbled through him as he bent slightly at the knees and lifted her off her feet with his legs and his hands gripping her bottom. Clinging to his shoulders, she felt his muscles ripple beneath his jacket and T-shirt. She wrapped her legs around his hips, pressing in tight.

  Then he moved—one step—rubbing the thick bulge behind his jeans against that sensitive spot covered by hers.

  “Oh, yes,” she murmured, taking control of the kiss, angling her mouth to nip at his lips.

  Another step.

  More pressure and tingling. She answered with another moan.

  Another step.

  The sensation so pleasurable it bordered on painful.

  Then he released his grip, and she landed on something hard and cool. The kitchen counter. Space suddenly separating their bodies.

  “No. Don’t stop,” she begged, trying to pull him back in tight.

  His warm hands cupped her face.

  Breathing hard, he leaned his forehead against hers. “Damn, Syd. I need a minute.” He inhaled and exhaled. His eyes closed as he tried to rein in all that passion she’d felt coming from him just moments ago. “I need to think.”

  “I don’t,” she said, tilting her head to capture his mouth once more.

  He indulged a few moments, then dragged his mouth away, his hands holding her head still. “Stop, Sydney. You’re not thinking clearly. You don’t want to do this. It’s all adrenaline. Nothing but a hormonal response to the danger you’ve been in, the trauma that’s been happening to you.”

  “It’s hormonal all right,” she said with a sarcastic laugh. “But I’m pretty sure it’s not the one you just named.”

  He released his hold on her and stepped away from the island counter where he’d set her. The sudden loss of him chilling not only her body, but the need that had been soaring through her blood.

  Shoving a hand through his hair, he leaned the other on the opposite counter, his back to her. “My job is to protect you, not fuck you in the middle of my kitchen.”

  The words stung like a cold, hard slap.

  She blew out the air in her lungs and slowly sucked more in. Gripping the granite beneath her, tears stung her eyes and she was grateful the kitchen was dark enough that he couldn’t see them.

  Then it hit her.

  She was nothing more than a helpless victim to him. A client to be protected. A job.

  Funny, losing her home, nearly being killed and realizing she was nothing more than an afterthought to the only family she had left didn’t hurt nearly as much as this man’s rejection.

  Shoving herself forward, she slid off the island. He turned at the sound of her feet hitting the floor.

  “Wow. I’m so sorry I misread the way you were kissing me. I could’ve sworn you were acting like a man wanting the woman who was with him. I didn’t realize you were just doing your job and I was throwing myself at you.”

  “Sydney, it’s not like that,” he said, reaching out towards her.

  “Nope.” She held up her hand and inched away from him, catching her hip on the corner of the island. “Crap,” she said, as the sting in her hip added to the pain in her chest. “I appreciate you letting me know that I’m nothing more than an assignment to you. Only, I’m not an assignment, am I? Because you’re on medical leave. So that makes me, what? A pro bono case like lawyers have?”

  He shoved his hand through his hair again. “No. It’s not like that. Of course you’re not a job.”

  She ignored the pain in his eyes. The anger in her burst into a bonfire. He might not like what she had to say, but that was just too damn bad, because she was just getting started.

  “Oh, so I’m a charity case? Something you do in your spare time? Rescue people on the side? Your good deed for the week? Do you have a Superman complex?”

  “No.” He took a step towards her and she held up her hands again, shaking her head.

  “You’re alone. Someone’s trying to hurt you.”

  “Oh, great. I’m a pity case then. Poor little Sydney. No one loves her, no one to take care of her? Well guess what big, bad marshal. I love me. And I’ve been on my own for a long time. I don’t want, nor do I need, your pity.”

  Kicking off her shoes, she took off her socks and left them all piled in the center of his neat and tidy kitchen. “But I’ll tell you something. I think you’re a coward.”

  “I’m a coward?” he said, his head tilted slightly to the side.

  Good. She had his full attention now.

  “You’re afraid to let go. To see where this thing between us might lead.” She unsnapped and unzipped her jeans. Shimmying them down over her bottom, thighs, and legs, she kicked them at him, hitting squarely in the chest. He caught them on reflex.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Showing you what you’re missing. What your control is costing you.” Moving to stand in the doorway to the hallway, she jerked off her jacket and tossed it on top of the island. Then she reached for the bottom of her sweater, hauling it up and over her head. She flung it towards the backdoor.

  “See, Frank? See what being a little out of control can do for you? See what you could’ve had?”

  She reached behind her and pulled off her bra then tossed it at his head.

  “Me. Simply me. No rules. No strings.”

  Finally, she slipped her hand into the waistband of her panties, slowly—her eyes locked on his, her gaze never leaving his face—she wiggled them down off her body, stepping out of them and leaving them in a silky pool on his pristine floor.

  “I’m not a tidy little item you can put in its place to be taken out when it suits you, Frank. Some case file for you to analyze, a witness for you to protect and make follow your rules. I’m flesh and blood. I know what I want. It’s not the danger or the adrenaline ruling me. It’s you. I want you.”

  She stared at him a moment longer. Then she straightened her spine to the full length of her five feet, turned, and strode from the room.

  The ball was in his court.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “I have that car registration for you.”

  “Go on,” Geist said.

  “It’s registered to a Frank Castello.”

  “Address?”

  The man on the other end of the line rattled off the address of the townhome h
e’d just left.

  Geist cursed inwardly.

  A silent pause came from the other man, then he cleared his throat nervously. “There’s something else.”

  Geist waited. Silence often drew out more information than threats ever could.

  “Castello is a Deputy U.S. Marshal.”

  Shit.

  He tightened his hold on the steering wheel. Pushing all the sudden tension into his knuckles then relaxing. The old man hadn’t told him a marshal was involved in this mess. Killing a nobody like Sydney Peele wouldn’t be noticed by anyone. Killing a U.S. Marshal was going to bring all kinds of unwanted heat down on him and the old man.

  “Peele’s cellphone?”

  “It’s offline. They must’ve turned off the GPS.”

  “Turn it back on.”

  “I tried, but couldn’t access it. My best guess is it’s been disabled.”

  Fuck. It was bad enough he was going to have to inform the old man about the marshal’s involvement in this, but confessing he’d lost his prey? It felt unprofessional.

  “Is there anything else you need from me, sir?” his source asked, fear still in his voice.

  “Yes. Keep on the phone, if it comes online again I want to know where, immediately. And dig into this Castello. I want to know everything about him.”

  He disconnected without waiting for the man’s response. Several years back, he’d nearly killed the little hacker, then realized he could use him as a resource. The man knew his life depended on just how useful he was. The moment he stopped, his life was forfeit once more.

  Stepping out of his car, he hit the electronic door lock and headed into the small neighborhood bar. No one should know him inside. Thanks to the cop’s car he’d been in earlier, the tinted windows had helped disguise his face from anyone who might’ve witnessed him hitting the marshal and the woman.

  “What can I get you?” the leggy brunette asked from the other side of the bar.

  “Whisky, neat.”

  “A man who knows what he likes,” she said, producing the bottle and a glass in front of him. She poured in two fingers’ worth and waited for his nod, which he gave. “Anything else?”

  The look on her face said she was offering more than food.

  He sized her up from head-to-toe. Tight jeans over a firm ass. Too-tight sweater showing off a pair of tits he was pretty sure weren’t natural. She’d do. For the night. But first, he needed something else. “I’ll take a burger. Well done. All the trimmings.”

  He had a phone call to make tonight, but when dealing with the old man, it was best to be in control.

  Once he’d settled his hunger, he’d take out some frustration with the sexy bartender.

  * * * * *

  Frank stood outside the guest bedroom.

  Sydney’s striptease in his kitchen had both thrilled and shocked him. Never had he had a woman take off her clothes and throw them at him in anger. All that righteous indignation and fueled ire focused on him.

  She’d been…magnificent.

  He’d been frozen in place as she revealed herself to him. His own Venus, stalking away as if the world should drop down at her feet.

  Only the slamming of the bedroom door above him snapped the spell she’d created.

  She was right. She wasn’t a client, a case, or a job. She was a flesh-and-blood woman, and she’d just confessed that she wanted him. Wanted him the way a woman wants a man.

  She’d called him a coward.

  Was he? Was he so in need of control that he couldn’t claim what she was offering?

  If he was smart, he’d turn and head to his own bedroom. He’d leave her alone and keep things as they were. Her in need of protection. Him the law officer in charge of seeing to her safety.

  He closed his eyes. The vision of her, naked, flushed with both anger and desire, challenging him.

  Inhaling, he reached for the door knob. It twisted easily, opening the door and he stepped inside the darkened room. The only light coming from the attached bathroom where she stood. Brushing her teeth. Naked.

  She finished. Wiped her mouth and shifted his direction, the light silhouetting her from behind.

  A goddess.

  “You’re not a job, Sydney.”

  She waited, comfortable and confident.

  He swallowed the fear inside him. What he said next was important. To him. To her. To whatever this was between them. “You’re not a case. You’re not charity. I don’t pity you.”

  “What is it you want, Frank?” she asked, reaching up to release all that wild hair from the ponytail, letting it fall down over her shoulders. The ends covering the tips of her nipples.

  Lady Godiva.

  “You.”

  “You want me?” She padded softly across the wood floor, stopping inches from him.

  “Yes,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

  “I don’t think you do,” she whispered back, her voice all husky and seductive.

  “Oh, believe me I do.” He reached for her, but she took a step back, evading his hands.

  Turning, she sauntered to the bed and crawled to the middle to stretch out on her side. “Bad enough to want to put aside all your precious self-control and just take me?”

  It was like offering a drug to an addict.

  Moving away from the door, he toed off his shoes and pulled off his socks. At the bedside, he unstrapped his holster, setting it and his weapon on the table.

  “Still protecting me?”

  “Best to be prepared,” he said, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the foil-wrapped packet he’d gotten from his room before coming to hers. He laid it on the bedside table, too.

  Finally, he shucked off his clothes and climbed onto the bed, barely giving her time to turn onto her back, before he covered her body with his. When she reached to grip his hips, he stalled her, catching her hands in his and slowly raising them over her head.

  “I don’t think so,” he said, before capturing her mouth with his. Sliding his tongue in deep, he tasted the sultry heat of her, a hint of the mint she’d eaten earlier teasing his senses. Her breasts pressed so tight to his chest, the hard nipples still tantalized him with every breath she took.

  Holding both her tiny wrists in his left hand, he slid the right one down the length of her arm, never breaking the contact of their mouths. He trailed his fingers over her cool flesh, goose bumps appearing along the path over the side of her breast, down her ribs and across the flare of her hip.

  With a little moan, she parted her thighs and he settled into the cradle of her heat, his hand moving down the outer side of her thigh until it reached her knee. Slipping his hand around, he teased the little erogenous zone in the back.

  As he eased his mouth from hers, letting their lips cling for a moment, he stared down into those deep purple eyes, his hand trailing back up her thigh, this time on the inside. A shudder ran through her and he fought the urge to growl in triumph.

  “Nothing. Wrong. With. Control.” He emphasized each word with a nip to her lower lip. Stretching her arms until their hands reached the Craftsman-style headboard, he pressed her fingers into the space between the slats. “I want you to hold on. Don’t let go. No matter what.”

  Her eyes widened and she slipped her tongue out to moisten her already swollen lips. He took her mouth again, this time in a slow, sensuous sampling, until he elicited another sexy moan from her. Then he began his exploration anew.

  Slowly, he slid his lips down her jawline towards an ear, kissing it softly, then biting on the lobe, pulling it just enough to make her gasp, but careful enough not to really hurt her. Down her neck he went, until he met the juncture of her shoulders. He stopped to enjoy the feel of her pulse against his lips. A slow gentle suck that built until her body responded by arching against his.

  He chuckled. “Not yet, sweet Sydney. I have way too much planned for you tonight. No easy orgasm for you.”

  Sliding his body lower, her breasts pushed down then u
p, free of the constraints of his chest.

  “Just what I was looking for,” he said with a smile, then trapped one hard nipple in his mouth. He sucked gently, at the same time running his hands back up her arms, checking that she was still holding on to the wooden slats.

  “Good girl,” he murmured as he switched to the other breast, laving it with his tongue before sucking it in.

  She wiggled her hips, adding heat to his already hard cock.

  “Soon, Syd, soon,” he murmured as he inched his way lower, letting his fingers replace his lips on her nipples. He tweaked and rolled them between his fingers as he laid a trail of kisses down the center of her abdomen.

  “I hate that name,” she said in a husky voice as he lowered his mouth to the edge of her pussy.

  Dipping his tongue into her wet slit, he teased the hard nub of her clit back and forth. She whimpered, and he felt her body tighten, then relax, as if she were fighting for her own sense of control.

  The soft mewling sound she was making threatened to undo him. She’d teased him about being too disciplined, and right now he was fighting to maintain even a sliver of restraint—the need to drive deep inside her threatening to take over.

  Sitting up on his knees, he reached for the condom. Not trusting his shaking fingers, he ripped the foil with his teeth. Sheathing himself, he used his knees to push her thighs open wider, exposing her to his gaze in the dim light from the bathroom.

  “You’re beautiful.” Too beautiful to be with him.

  As if she could read his mind, she slid one delicate foot up his thigh to his ass. “I need you, Frank. Now.”

  At her command, he lost all thought, simply acted on instinct, hauling her up by her hips, until his cock was at her entrance.

  “You’re sure?” he asked, wanting her to know she still had a choice. He’d die from the need to join his body with hers, but if she said no, he’d stop.

  Still gripping the bedframe, she lifted her head to stare at him, trying to push herself onto him. “Never been surer about anything.”