Chapter Thirteen
“Sin, wait, I didn’t mean that,” Rick muttered, putting his hand on her arm to stop her from standing. He found himself looking into the sparkling emeralds of her eyes. “Since you did not ask. No, I don’t want you gone.” He felt it starting—the swift, hot flame that, once ignited, leapt to life and stirred him into arousal. He wanted her. Ignoring the rational side of his brain, which screamed, never get involved—it’s dangerous, he touched the creamy softness of her cheek and the fascinating corner of her lips, then slid his hand around her neck and wound his fingers into her hair.
She looked at him, surprise and maybe a flicker of fear in her expression. He paused. It occurred to him that he’d expected to see that calculating look on her face, the one he’d seen before. He’d expected her to—what? Fall into his arms? Maybe. He had not expected surprise or shyness, or fear. He bent his head down and touched her lips with his. She didn’t recoil. In fact, her lips parted slightly and he felt the warm sigh of her breath.
At first, she didn’t exactly respond. She was pliant, unresisting, but her mouth was so sweet. Her skin smelled like he’d known it would—like dawn and rain and honeysuckle flowers. He leaned in, deepening the kiss. She gasped and he felt her back stiffen. He froze, not knowing what to expect. Had he spooked her by moving too fast?
Then, everything changed. No longer was she just allowing him to kiss her. She was kissing him back. Her fingers touched his wrist, then slid over the muscles of his forearm and bicep up to his shoulder, where she bunched the material of his T-shirt in her fist as his tongue touched hers for the first time.
When she arched against him, his heart pounded so fast and hard, he felt short of breath. What the hell? He backed off, untangling his fingers from her hair. He wrapped his fingers around her shoulders and set her away, far enough that he could study her face.
She opened her eyes and stared at him, wide-eyed. Her breaths were shallow and fast.
“You’re killing me,” he whispered. He didn’t like what was happening. He’d had some sexy women along the way, but he’d never felt anything like this. It was just a kiss and yet, he was already hard as a rock. So much for wanting her to come just from kissing.
“What?” she asked. “What did I do?”
“Tell me to stop.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head, almost imperceptibly. “I can’t,” she whispered.
“Then what are we going to do?”
To his utter delight and dismay, she gave him a tremulous smile. “I probably should go.”
“No,” he growled. He pulled her away from the railing and onto his lap. His fingers pushed the tiny strap of her top down over her shoulder to expose her breast. He moved his mouth to her ear, then down the side of her neck as his hand cupped her breast and he teased her nipple with his thumb.
Sin strained against him, pushing her breast more firmly into his hand. He moved his mouth back to hers, thrusting his tongue deep inside her mouth in an erotic imitation of the sexual dance.
His body was a fiery whirlwind. Any thoughts left in his head were blown away. All he knew was Sin. She felt so right. Kissing her felt better than anything he could remember. His hand slid along the curve of her hip and down her thigh, then up toward the silky vee of her panties as he whispered her name.
*
Lusinda’s body melted and flowed like hot lava under Rick’s questing fingers. His beard stubble scratched her skin, and the feeling was erotic and sensual. His hard, strong arms cradled her firmly and yet gently, as his fingers slid up her inner thigh. She’d never felt so protected and so aroused.
When his fingers touched the flesh at the edge of her panties, she shuddered as a moan escaped her throat. As much as she enjoyed sex, she’d never completely lost it. She’d had climaxes, but she’d always managed to hold on to a shred of control—enough to be sure she stayed safe. But here at this moment with Rick, she was dangerously close to going over an edge she’d never dared approach before.
She pulled away, but he followed her, continuing to kiss her, softly at first, then hard. The center of her arousal was thrumming, sending exquisite pleasure through her like hundreds of lightning strikes. For the first time in her life she was not afraid of losing control, not as long as it was here, with Rick.
Then, through the flimsy material of her panties, he touched her and the last bit of her control nearly evaporated.
“Ah,” he groaned. “You’re so ready—”
Just then, a loud laugh interrupted the quiet Vieux Carré morning. “Eh, lovebirds. C’est une journée merveilleuse pour l’amour, eh? Ah, oui, carry on, carry on. Do not worry about an old man.”
Lusinda dragged her mouth away from Rick’s and gasped for breath. She licked her lips. They felt swollen and tender, and thoroughly plundered.
“Oh my gosh, he can see us. What did he say?”
“He said it’s a wonderful day for love.”
“Oh no! He saw…” She shrugged the fallen strap back up onto her shoulder and tried to wriggle off Rick’s lap.
“Whoa!” he said sharply. “Ouch! Wait a minute.” He lifted her as if she were a sack of sugar, and plopped her down on the balcony floor. Then he leaned his head back against the railing, his chest heaving, his jaw clenched, and his throat working as he swallowed. “Sorry.” He pushed his hands through his hair. “I guess we kind of got carried away.”
If Lusinda hadn’t been so shaken herself, she might have believed that she saw his fingers trembling. But that was silly. He was a man. Kissing and stuff didn’t mean that much to men, did they?
She swallowed, took a calming breath, and lied her butt off. “Carried away?” she said on a hoarse laugh. “Maybe you. Not me.” She stood as gracefully as she could on legs that had no more substance than soft butter. She wanted to stomp inside and slam the doors in righteous indignation, but she couldn’t trust her legs to hold her up. Besides, casement windows didn’t slam very well. So she aimed for an elegant exit instead, stepping through and striding across the living room to the bathroom with her head held high. She tried to slam the bathroom door but a wet towel on the floor stopped it noiselessly. Before she could kick the towel out of the way and push the door closed, Rick caught her. He pulled her to him.
“What are you doing?” he asked, running his hands along the curve of her back until he was cupping her bottom.
She didn’t look at him, but she couldn’t make herself pull away. It felt so damn good to be caressed and held by him. “Trying to slam the door,” she said peevishly.
“I could step out of the way.” He set her away from him without letting go.
She smiled. “That’s okay. It’s too late for dramatic effect.”
“You know I didn’t really mean I wanted you gone, don’t you?”
“No. How could I? You sure sounded like it.” She’d felt his hands pulling her toward him but she wasn’t ready to give in yet—maybe never. It was difficult and strange to listen to him, knowing that with every breath he took he was lying to her. She couldn’t get involved with someone like this. A cop who could be dirty, who could be working with the very people he was supposed to be bringing to justice.
He tried again to pull her to him and she let him. The promise that seeped into her body and soul from him was too much to resist. When she stepped into his embrace and he pressed himself against her, she felt his hardness. A thrill centered deep inside made her gasp. Then, it moved. “Oh my God,” she breathed.
He looked down at her. “How’re you doing?” he asked.
She took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said.
He raised his brows.
“I’m okay,” she said hoarsely. In fact, she was scared of how good she felt.
Rick took her hand, led her into his bedroom, then turned to her and kissed her. It was as good a kiss as she’d ever had and better than most. He deepened the kiss, pressing his pulsing arousal against her.
When he pulled away, she whimpered. He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers, then turned to his bedside table. She quickly shed her underwear and lay on the bed.
It didn’t take Rick long to rid himself of his pajama pants and slide on a condom.
“Always prepared?” she whispered against his lips once he turned back to her.
“I’m a cockeyed optimist,” he muttered.
She laughed, a little uneasily, but before she could even begin to wonder why he was that prepared, given everything she knew about him, he swept her into his arms. He caressed her breasts and her belly. He slid his hand around her thigh and traced his fingers down and up as he nibbled on her lips, jaw, and neck. He trailed his tongue down to her breasts, where he almost sent her over the edge as he teased their taut, sensitive tips until they ached and throbbed with pleasure.
Lusinda explored him too. She slid her palms across his broad chest with its sparse mat of hair, then down to his ripped abs. The strength and beauty of his body made her groan in pleasure. Taking a breath that caught in her throat, she touched his arousal. He moaned. His haunches clenched as she ran her hand up and down. He grew harder and his breathing stuttered in his throat. Then his fingers were poised at her opening. She knew she was wet and ready.
“Sin?” he whispered.
“Yes,” she gasped. “Yes, now.”
He put his hands on her waist and turned onto his back, bringing her with him. She started to protest. She didn’t want to be on top, exposed, while he got to snuggle into the bed sheets and take what she had to give. But before she could gather enough breath to speak, he lifted her up and held her there.
“Go ahead,” he said softly. “Guide me in.”
Lusinda could barely breathe. She touched him, guided him as best she could, as he pushed inside her, slowly—too slowly—and carefully. Finally, she brushed his hands away and settled down on him with a cry that erupted from deep in her throat. She was afraid she might faint from the sheer ecstasy of having him inside her.
He clenched and pushed into her deeply, more deeply than any man ever had. It was the last spark of her control. His face and the room around her disappeared as her entire body erupted into a white spray of blinding light. The pulses of living light went on and on for an endlessly telescoping, warp-speed period of time.
The next thing she knew, she was lying against his heaving chest, struggling to calm her own breathing. His hand was skimming languidly over her back, her bottom, her thighs, then back up.
“Oh,” she breathed.
She felt his chest and belly ripple. The intimacy of his quiet laugh sent an aftershock of climax through her.
“Couldn’t have said it better,” he whispered next to her ear, then began kissing her jaw. She turned her head and he took her mouth in a soft, lazy kiss. A throbbing echo of desire spread from her core.
Gently, he rolled her off him and lay her down on the bed, then pulled her into the crook of his arm with her head in the hollow of his shoulder. After a moment, his even breathing told Lusinda that he’d fallen asleep. But she decided that she didn’t care. A nice long nap sounded like a great idea. So she snuggled deeper into his side and drifted off to sleep.
*
Rick woke up easily. He felt better than he had in days—maybe weeks. He lay there, listening to Sin’s soft breaths. She was still asleep. He willed himself to relax and fall asleep again. He had nowhere to be this morning. He closed his eyes, but his body was awake now. Awake enough to send signals to his brain. Little electrical jolts like aftershocks of the amazing sex they’d had. Sleep was over.
Desire slid through him. If he didn’t get up now, in about two and a half seconds he was going to be in big trouble. His whole being was focused on her long, lithe body that was molded against his, her breaths warm and titillating against his shoulder and her lingering taste in his mouth.
What the hell had he been thinking? The answer to that was easy. He had not been thinking at all, at least not with his brain. He threw an arm over his eyes. He knew better than to get involved while on an undercover assignment. He had always understood the rules and the pitfalls. It was no accident that he’d made a career out of undercover work. Getting tangled up with someone while on assignment wasn’t just stupid, it could be deadly as well.
It was the perfect career for a man like him. He’d known for a long time that he wasn’t made for serious relationships. The intimacy, the shared secrets, the vulnerability, weren’t for him. Once he’d become a cop, he’d started telling the women he dated that he couldn’t get serious, because of the long periods of time he spent undercover. It wouldn’t be fair to them. It was too dangerous.
He looked at Sin, sleeping soundly, trustingly. Why was this time different? What had made him sacrifice his own safety and hers by giving in to the undeniable sexual attraction between them?
He didn’t want to answer that question. So he turned his brain to the many lesser reasons he shouldn’t have had sex with her. She could have gone through his things while he was asleep, or stolen his phone. She could be working for Beau. She could have found out that he was a cop and seduced him as a plan to set him up for another beating, or worse.
Okay, that wasn’t completely fair. She hadn’t seduced him. She had not started it. He had. He was the one who had given in to temptation and kissed her, out there on the balcony in the rain.
Kissed her? Admit it, Easterling, that was no kiss. That was major foreplay. And now it’s over. A pain shot through his jaw. If he kept clenching it, he would end up with a migraine.
Taking a deep breath, he consciously relaxed his jaw muscles as much as he could. At the same time he did his best to wipe his mind of her. His job was to find out who had put the bad dope out on the street, and that was the only thing he should be thinking about. There was no room in his life for romance.
Pain shot through his jaw again. This was not romance. It was just sex. That was all. A one-night stand with a cocktail waitress. Neither one of them was looking for a relationship. He shouldn’t have gone out onto the balcony in the first place, But she’d looked so sexy and sweet sitting there in the pink glow of the early morning sun. Sexy and sweet—and scared.
And that was his problem. Sexy he could handle. He could even handle sweet. But when both of those combined with scared? That small vibe from her had called up every suppressed longing buried deep inside of him, just as it had the first moment he’d seen her when she fell down the stairs on top of him. Damn it to hell, she’d found his Achilles’ heel.
She had a vulnerability about her that made him want to take care of her. He thought about his brother Johnny, who’d always taken care of him—at least until the day he’d abandoned him. And that wasn’t right either. Johnny hadn’t abandoned him. He’d left Rick in order to protect him.
Rick truly understood that for the first time. A man had to do what he thought was best to protect those who depended on him. Johnny had. Hell, he’d probably ended up getting himself killed because he was trying to protect someone. Now it was Rick’s turn. He could have left Sin to fend for herself, but he’d helped her. Now she was his responsibility.
What was he supposed to do? Would she be safer if he kept her close, or if he pushed her away? He lowered his arm and looked at her again. Her dark lashes lay on her cheeks, creating little spiky shadows on her skin. Her mouth was slightly open and her shoulder rose infinitesimally with her soft breaths.
He had to keep her close. It was the only way he could be sure she was safe. Even as the words slid through his mind, he questioned his motive. Was he keeping her with him for her—or for him?
Something electronic pinged. He glanced at the bedside table, but his phone was dark. That ping didn’t sound like his phone anyway. Sin turned over. The covers draped across the supple curve of her back. He watched her body barely lift and fall with her even breathing.
The ping sounded again. Sin’s breath hitched, but she didn’t wake up.
Not wanting to wake her, he slipped out from under the covers, pulled on his pajama bottoms and walked into the living room. He spotted her phone on the side table, plugged into the wall. Its light served as a dim beacon through the shadows. He glanced out the windows as he unplugged it. Still raining. Hardly a surprise.
When he looked back at the screen, he saw two text messages. A third ping announced another text. Are you all right? I’m giving you five minutes, then I’m calling you.
Rick knew he was doing the wrong thing, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from scanning upward, to the first two texts. He told himself it might be Beau. He told himself it was his job to know who was texting her. He told himself he had a right to know, since she was in his apartment.
He read the first two messages, then reread the third.
Johnston, you haven’t checked in. What’s the problem?
Call me ASAP. I have information.
Are you all right? I’m giving you five minutes, then I’m calling you.
Something heavy landed in the pit of Rick’s stomach and the pain in his jaw increased. With more than a little foreboding, he looked at the sender information. No name, but the telephone number was one he recognized. He’d been called by that number and ordered into that office more than once in his career, the most recent only about a month ago. The dread in his stomach turned into acid and a burning shock of adrenaline arrowed through him.
The number was for the Bureau of Public Integrity, the BPI. Because of television cop shows, it was more commonly known by the public as Internal Affairs, or the Police Police. The phone shook. He looked at it. It wasn’t the phone that was shaking, it was his hand.
His knees felt weak. She was a cop. An undercover cop. And there was only one reason she would be here, working at Beauregard’s, living in the same hotel as he was. She was here to watch him. Those sons of bitches thought he was dirty.
She thought he was dirty. No wonder she wasn’t a good waitress. No wonder she’d been so hard for him to figure out. How had he not seen it? He’d been suspicious. He’d figured they might send someone to watch him. How in forty levels of hell had he not made her?
It was a stupid question, because he knew the answer. Because he was too infatuated with her pretty green eyes and her vulnerability and the way she looked at him, as if he was the one person she could trust to protect her. He was an idiot and a sucker.
He rubbed his temple and took a deep breath. His knees shook, but he walked deliberately and slowly into the bedroom and looked down at her, soft and beautiful and traitorous, in his bed. She stirred as if she felt his gaze, then glanced sleepily over her bare shoulder. When she saw him standing there, she sat up, drawing the sheet with her.
Dear Lord, she looked like a painting, sitting so artlessly graceful, her hair all mussed and sticking out and the sheet draped perfectly to hide her nakedness.
Sin Awakening. Ironic.
He held out her phone.
Her eyes went wide, then dull. Her gaze narrowed. He saw her throat move as she swallowed, then cleared her throat. “Uh, who is it?” she asked, her voice low and hoarse and unbelievably sexy.
He just held it there. Just as he figured it would, it rang.
She took it from him, her eyes widening as she looked at the screen. She swiped it. “Yes?” she answered, her gaze returning to his. He couldn’t interpret the look in her eyes. If he’d been inclined to guess, he’d think it was sadness or regret, but that wasn’t right. He didn’t want her to be sad or regretful. He wanted her to be defiant and angry. He wanted her to be a tough-as-nails cop who didn’t give a crap. He didn’t want to know that she was afraid of roaches, or that she had a horrible scar where her stepfather had held her forearm down on a hot stove eye.
Damn her. Damn the NOPD, and damn Johnny for dying and leaving him to sort all this out on his own.
“I—can’t—talk—now,” Sin said through clenched teeth. “I’m fine. I’ll call you back.” She clicked the phone off. “Rick, I can explain—”
“Really? You can explain that?” He nodded at the phone. “Please. Go ahead.”
“I—I didn’t know…”
“Yeah.” He held up a hand. “That’s what I thought,” he snapped.
“But…”
“Look, Sin, if that’s even your name, I really don’t give a crap. Just leave.”
“Rick, please. You don’t—” she started, then clamped her mouth shut. She lifted the corner of the sheet as if she were going to get up, but thought better of it when she looked down at herself. She sent him a pointed glance.
For a second, he considered forcing her to stand up with no clothes on while he watched her. But that would be sinking to her level—or below, and right now he needed all the dignity he could muster. He whirled and went into the living room.
He saw her handbag on the floor beside the couch. He decided it was within his rights to search it. He needed to see if she was armed, he told himself. Actually, the thing was more like a large tote bag than a purse, although it wasn’t heavy. He unzipped it and glanced inside even though he’d already determined that there was no weapon in there, based on its weight.
As he set it back down, Sin came out of the bedroom. “Find anything interesting?” she asked in a voice that was impressively cool, given her sad expression.
He shook his head, more in annoyance at her sarcastic question than in any effort to answer her. Shaking his head made it ache. He was on the verge of getting a headache. He had a migraine tablet in his wallet. He walked over to the refrigerator and looked inside, but the bottle of water wasn’t in there. It was still on the bedside table where she’d put it earlier, while she was taking care of him. He closed the refrigerator and glanced at his watch. It was about an hour until his shift started at Beauregard’s. Maybe the migraine wouldn’t hit him until after then.
“I’m gone,” she said. “Just as soon as I get dressed.”
Her voice didn’t carry the determination and strength he’d come to expect from her. She sounded subdued.
“I didn’t mean right now,” he said. “Where are you—Oh, hey, do you need any money?” he asked, thinking about her rent.
Her gaze snapped to his. “Are you freaking kidding me?” she snapped.
“No, wait. I didn’t—”
She flung her hand out sideways. “Don’t—even—try.” She picked up her bag and headed into the bathroom.
Staring at the closed bathroom door, Rick cursed under his breath, using every word he knew. Then, when he ran out of curses, he stood helplessly, wishing he could hit something—hard. Like the wall or the door or his own stupid blockhead.
He’d screwed the pooch. There was only one unbreakable rule about undercover investigations. Never get involved. It was too dangerous, in too many ways. As one of the best undercover cops in the entire NOPD, he’d always prided himself on being able to make another cop within seconds, but Sin Stone, or whatever her name was, had fooled him. As suspicious as he’d been at the way she kept turning up at his door, he’d never seriously considered that she could be a police officer. The question was, why the hell hadn’t he?
He wasn’t particularly surprised that the BPI was watching him. He knew they couldn’t see past their noses. If he was caught shot and unconscious with dope and dope money in his pocket, he had to be guilty, right? The obvious conclusion, considering that he was the Eighth Precinct’s best undercover officer, should have been that someone planted the contaminated heroin and the dirty money on him while he was lying unconscious in the alley. He’d hoped they believed him, but he’d known they didn’t.
He rubbed his face. He needed to think about all this, but right now, his temple was beginning to throb like a sonofabitch. He fished the tablet out of his wallet and put it under his tongue, then grabbed his phone and left, slamming the door behind him. The sound echoed hollowly, like fading, mocking laughter.