Leigh

MY ALARM WENT OFF at 5:30 AM. My eyes didn’t want to open and my brain was groggy. Unable to decide if I’d had too much sleep or not enough, I stumbled into the bathroom to start the morning necessities—pee, brushing teeth, then coffee. I managed the first two then dragged down the hallway to my kitchen. Normally, I set up the coffeemaker the night before. I’d forgotten but as I turned the corner, my nose was filled with the thick, rich scent of fresh dark roast coffee.

I freaked out. Just a little. There were no notes. No box of donuts. My front door was secure. Maybe I’d forgotten and programmed the darn thing after all. I managed to pour a cup without spilling and added a spoonful of sugar. With mug in hand, I wandered back to my bedroom—and realized there was something wrong with the left side of the bed. I sleep on the right—closest to the bathroom door. The left-side pillow was bunched up but with a distinct impression in the middle. The covers on that side of the bed were all wonky too. What the hell? I scrubbed at my face, forgetting I had a mug of hot coffee in my hand. Ow!

This was not going to be a good day.

Walking through the door exactly one minute before my shift started, I headed directly to the break room for coffee. I’d managed to clean up my mess, throw coffee-stained clothes and towels in the washer, grab a shower and make it on time. But I was functioning on half a cup of coffee.

I spent the day pretty much chained to my desk doing file searches and researching databases for clues about the identity of my arsonist. My new FD sedan arrived and I got to drive it home instead of taking the bus. Lost in thought while stopped at a stoplight, I heard a motorcycle rev beside me and I jumped. I turned to glare, figuring it would be that obnoxious Smoke but it wasn’t. The guy was staring at me and it creeped me out. Still, I glared at him and arched a brow in that universal facial expression of “You want some of this? You ain’t got what it takes, sucker.”

He rode off as soon as the light turned green and I realized the emblem on the back of his leather jacket was different. He wore an ugly-ass dog thing with horns. Hell Dog MC. Yeah, I definitely needed to check with my buddy in the DPD gang unit. He had to know something about outlaw bikers.

Though the biker was long gone, I still had the feeling of being watched. All the way home. I parked and sat in the car for a few minutes. Not sure what I was waiting for, I just didn’t feel comfortable getting out in the open—not even for the short walk to my front door. The feeling passed but I sat another couple of minutes. When it didn’t come back, I jumped out and all but ran to my door.

I unlocked it but almost busted my nose when I tried to open it and walk in at the same time. What the hell? Then I remembered that I’d double locked the door. I had to search for the key to the deadbolt and I was fumbling by the time I found it, got it inserted, and turned. The hair on my neck was prickling something fierce. Before I closed the door behind me, I scanned the parking lot. Nothing appeared to be out of place. No strange cars or people—just a big, shaggy German Shepherd mix lying on the grass of the green belt across the way.

Beer and food—in that order. That’s what I wanted. I stripped off my uniform shirt and kicked off my boots. Then I grabbed a beer and riffled through the freezer for a frozen dinner. Picking one at random, I tossed it in the microwave, opened my beer, and settled on the couch to watch the news.

The arsons weren’t the lead story—thank goodness—but they were covered. The microwave dinged and I ate stoically. I needed to find time to shop for groceries. And I needed to get over being a weenie. I was an arson investigator. I did dangerous things. Running out at night to grab fast food was not a dangerous thing. But the idea of walking out into the dark almost froze me in place.

Fine. I had other stuff to do anyway. Important stuff. Like laundry. Cleaning the toilets. I’d get right on all that as soon as I caught up on my DVR’d episodes of NCIS.

 

 

I WOKE UP IN BED. Wearing sleep shorts and a tank. I didn’t remember going to bed. This was just crazy. I rolled over and stared at my cell phone. 5:55 AM. Wide awake, I rushed through my morning routine. There was no tell-tale sign that anyone had been in my house. No notes. No coffee set to brew—which sort of bummed me out…

There was no way I could be having blackouts. I’d just had my yearly departmental physical and I was in perfect health. Maybe I really was just that tired. Or I was sleepwalking. Except it was cold at night. I normally wore flannel sleep pants and a T-shirt. Not…shorts and a tank. Yeah…not cool.

I didn’t want to consider the other possibility. I’d almost rather have a brain tumor given the alternative—that Smoke had broken in again, found me asleep on the couch and put me to bed.

Time to turn the tables. I’d give my PD buddy a call and I’d go track down Smoke’s sorry ass and confront him. I inhaled deeply and things settled inside me. That was the ticket. I’d stalk him for a change. I was totally on board for that.

After a few phone calls and a pinky swear that I wouldn’t do anything without police backup, I parked my rather blatant, if nondescript, sedan half a block away from the Nightriders’ Dallas compound not far from Love Field. About twenty bikes were parked in front of a one-story cement-block building. A twelve-foot high chain-link fence wrapped around the compound. The place had been a wrecker yard in a previous lifetime. Evidently, the Nightriders took it over, running Rider Tow and Salvage. I could see cars parked behind the building and two two trucks, a roll-back wrecker, and a huge sucker used for semi-trucks were lined up along the side.

I couldn’t tell one motorcycle from the next but I watched the bikers come and go throughout the afternoon. At one point, two of them stood next to the gate staring up the street at me. I slouched down, noting the sun was bouncing off the windshield and they shouldn’t be able to see me. Still, it was disconcerting. I needed to move along before they got truly suspicious and came to check the car.

As soon as the coast was clear, I started the sedan and headed back to my office. I had more research to do, then I was going home and drinking coffee until I floated. No way was I going to sleep tonight. Not until I solved the mystery of how I kept ending up in bed.

By the time I got home, my eyes were bleary from reading files and staring at my computer monitor. I started a pot of coffee and grabbed another microwave meal. I desperately needed to make time to hit the grocery store. I didn’t cook much but that didn’t mean I was incapable of fixing real food. It just seemed such a waste to cook for one. Still, the microwave stuff was getting old.

The day had been unseasonable warm so I stripped down to the tank top I wore under my uniform shirt, kicked off my boots and got comfortable. As the minutes ticked by, I sipped coffee and read through a file I’d grabbed on my way out—a list of serial arsonists and their MO my predecessor had put together before he retired. One file niggled at the back of my brain—an arsonist tagged The Ghost. No one knew who this guy was but he was a professional. I rolled my eyes at the nickname. I kept reading, fascinated despite myself. He had a signature trigger—one that resembled some found by the military in IEDs. He was like the Robin Hood of people had given him.

The timer dinged and I set a mental alarm for two minutes—the time the instructions said to let it sit before eating. I continued to read the information on this Ghost dude. A shiver finger-walked up my spine, accompanied by that creepy feeling people described as “someone just walked the hell over my grave.”

Smoke. Smoke was like fog, which was spooky and all ghostly and stuff. I tried to shake off the feeling. Yes, indeedy. I was totally unnerved now but things were starting to click. Had Smoke been stalking me? From the very beginning? I mean, what were the odds that he’d be on that road at that time of the morning just in time to rescue me?

“You’re thinking too hard, babe.”

 

 

Smoke

I WINCED as Leigh screamed. I admit, I was a bit surprised that she was such a girly-girl about stuff like this. Then again, she was too cute when she did it so I wasn’t going to complain.

“Where did you come from!”

“The front door.”

“Breaking and entering!”

“Entering, yeah. I’ll give you that, but I didn’t break anything.”

She scowled at me and fisted her hands on her hips and thrusting out her chest, which made her tits do some very interesting things in that tank top.

“You are nothing more than a scary-ass stalker.”

I couldn’t stop the slow grin spreading across my face even if I wanted to. “Definitely scary-ass. Stalker? Babe, I’m just getting started.”

Leigh gulped and I watched her throat work. My dick perked right up, wondering how far she could swallow it. My brain—and dick—was focused on that, and would be until I got between her legs.

“Do you realize how creepy that sounds?” She nodded like one of those bobble-head things. “Yup. Totally creepy. Go away. And stop breaking into my house.”

“You need to eat.”

She threw up her hands, which revealed skin above her belt buckle. Yeah, totally kissing my way from that spot until I got all the way to heaven.

“What is it about you and feeding me?”

“It just is. You’re too skinny.”

She sputtered, her mouth opened. Closed. She sputtered some more. “Too skinny?”

I nodded. I’m a big man. I like some soft on my women. She was hot standing there with not much on but I wouldn’t bitch if she added a few pounds.

Leigh remained shocked. What was the word? Aghast. Yeah. That’s how she looked. “Haven’t you heard that saying? A girl can’t be too rich or too skinny?”

“Yeah she can.”

“You are totally weird, Smoke.”

“Nope. Just a man who loves women and doesn’t care how much money they have.”

Her eyes narrowed and her lips formed an “O” that made my dick throb. “So…” She drew out the syllable. “You’re one of those guys.”

“Yeah. So?”

“So, a smart woman wouldn’t do you at all. A desperate woman would need a full body condom. Just FYI? I’m not desperate.”

Too fucking cute.

She tilted her head and studied me, then jutted her chin in my direction. “I don’t like you.”

“And?”

“Are you in the habit of screwing women you don’t like?”

“I refer you to my previous statement. I’m a man who loves women.” Except the more time I spent around Leigh, the less appealing every other woman became.

“And you have too been stalking me.”

 

 

Leigh

I STOOD STILL, despite the on-going argument with my lizard brain which insisted I was in danger, that I was…prey. I almost agreed as he prowled toward me. His eyes burned with an intensity I found disconcerting and that smile curling his lips up at the corners was as lethal as any weapon pointed at my heart.

“Babe,” he chided. “We’ve been stalking each other for a couple of days.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“You think we didn’t see you at the clubhouse?” He laughed, this big, virile man who called himself Smoke. He was Mr. Biker Badass and my inner cavewoman wanted him like damn and whoa. I slapped the bitch down—or tried. He stretched his hand toward me, cupped my cheek before I managed to muzzle her.

“You know this is going to happen.” His deep, growling voice touched my skin. I could literally feel the words brushing against me. Then he bent, grazed my lips with his, and everything female sighed, then promptly melted into a big ol’ pile of girly-goo.

This was wrong, on so many levels, but what the hell. Common sense was gone, carried out on a wave of cheerleading girly bits. I wanted him. Needed him. He was Compulsion with a capital C, all dressed up and ready for a Girl’s Night Out at the Magic Mike review.

“This is a bad idea.” I managed to murmur the words against his mouth.

“Babe.”

I melted. Again. From the inside out. He was a bad idea masquerading as a good one, and I knew I would give in to the sheer maleness of him. I had no choice.

“Kiss me.”

I wanted to.

He cupped my face with one hand and then his mouth was on mine, teasing, almost like he was testing to see what I tasted like. He was so gentle I opened almost out of instinct. The fingers of his other hand danced like lightning over my bare skin. His tongue swept through my mouth. I gripped his shoulders, bracing against them because I was suddenly on tiptoes. He was all male, lean muscle flexing beneath tan skin. I couldn’t get enough of him.

He took over, fisting my ponytail, controlling me, pulling my head back so he could deepen the kiss. My knees locked and I swayed. I could lean forward, press against him, find my balance, but I didn’t. Something stopped me. His lips brushed along my neck, his breath feathering across my pulse point one of the most erotic things I’d ever experienced. And he hadn’t even gotten me naked yet.

What was it about this man? I was a smart woman. Grounded. Self-confident. But one look from him and my common sense ran for the hills. I wanted to tear my clothes off. Tear his off. I didn’t do things like this. I was careful. Guarded.

His thumb feathered over my nipple and I couldn’t breathe. Even through my tank and sports bra, his touch branded me. I couldn’t remember every being kissed in a way that made me feel…what? Like Smoke wanted to devour me? Like he had no place else to be, nothing else to do but kiss me? Like I was the only woman in the world. Heady stuff, that feeling.

A kiss, I reminded myself. Just a kiss. We’d known each other a matter of days. This connection shouldn’t exist. But it did. My heart knew it. And my head.

“I can’t get enough of you, baby,” he murmured against my breast. Then his lips found mine and proved to me how hungry he was. Breathless, he rested his forehead against mine. Every muscle in my body was tense and I was still on tiptoes. I started to shake.

“Trying to be good here,” I murmured. Trying to be sane was more like it.

That’s when his big hands wrapped around my ribs and lifted me. My legs automatically circled his waist and I almost moaned. He had a major boner going behind the buttons of those Levis.

“You’re good, babe. Trust me.” And he let loose that wicked laugh that went straight to my womb and made me quiver all over.

“Touch me,” I ordered, pulling my tank over my head.

“You don’t have to ask twice,” he agreed as I jerked at his jacket. It was gone in an instant, his black tee shirt following a blink later.

He didn’t give me a chance to lose my bra. He ripped it in half, right down the middle. Holy hell, the man had some strong hands.

“Fuck. You’re too good to be true. Gotta be dreamin’ this.” He buried his face between my breasts.

Somebody moaned. I think it was me. I leaned back as he sucked one of my nipples into his mouth. Too good. This felt too good. Too fast. I rolled my hips, rubbing my clit against his cock. I didn’t even get embarrassed at how wet I was.

“Want more, babe?”

How could he sound so…normal? So calm. Hell yeah I wanted more. I wanted it all. “Yes.” I moaned the word.

He grinned and dear Lord, I was ready to beg. “Good. I’m going to make you come now.”

Yes! I wanted to throw confetti. Toast with champagne. But then we were in my bedroom and he was laying me down on the bed. He followed me down, covering me, his weight settling between my thighs. I whimpered, ready to beg.

Smoke hooked an arm under my knee, hitched it up and pressed his body against mine. He rubbed his cock, hiding behind those brass buttons, against my clit. It should have hurt, would have if I’d been naked. Then suddenly I was. My duty pants were gone, my plain cotton panties shredded and those big brass buttons were right there pressing, rubbing, circling. Too much. Too much sensation. It hurt but the pain was exquisite.

He kissed me as he rolled his hips, his tongue deep in my mouth, demanding I respond. His hand cupped my ass, held me still while he worked me.

“You like this.”

It wasn’t a question but I answered him anyway. “God yes!”

He bit my bottom lip. Hard. I tasted blood and didn’t care. His lips moved as restlessly as his hips. Nipping my earlobe, my shoulder, my breast. His hips twisted and I went blind as shooting stars filled my vision.

Something hard speared me roughly and I fought. Finger. He’d pushed his finger into me. Two fingers. Three. Rough, calloused, long. He worked me. In and out as I convulsed around him, the aftereffects of my orgasm still rocking my body. I rode his hand, climbing fast and a second orgasm, just as amazing as the first, burst through me.

I hooked the back of his neck, kissed him, open-mouthed and demanding. He jerked away from me, stared down at my face then his eyes switched focus.

“Gonna fuck that mouth,” he growled and I climaxed again. Then his cock was inside me and I couldn’t remember anything else.