Dash of Peril

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

WHEN DASH SAID, “Not just yet,” she wanted to insist. She really did. But already he worked his magic, his fingertips lightly stroking over her collarbone, her breasts—while avoiding her nipples—over her ribs and along her trembling thighs.

“No more, Dash.” And then, almost whimpering, she added, “I can’t.”

Too seriously, seduction personified, he whispered, “You can.” He brushed his open palms over her stiffened nipples, lightly abrading them.

This crazy insistence he had of her tolerance made her frantic. “No, I...”

“Shhh.” He cupped her breasts in his hands and stared into her eyes, his demeanor hot but measured. “Show me how strong you are, honey. Show me that awesome control.”

Oh, God, a challenge—one he knew she’d feel compelled to accept. “It’s too much.”

“Not possible with you.” His thumbs moved over her tightened nipples. “With us.”

There he went again, saying things that sounded so serious, hinting at a future—

“I want you to relax back against my thighs. Let your arms rest.” He snagged a pillow and tucked it next to her to support her splinted elbow. “Now,” he whispered, “let’s try this.” He drew her knees up and eased them out, so that her feet were flat beside his hips. With rapt attention, he looked at her exposed sex. “Damn.”

Margo groaned.

“You see,” he said, still in that soft, almost awed tone. “You’re almost there again, aren’t you, baby?”

She tried to deny it with a shake of her head, but his attention remained between her legs.

Again, his fingers played with her, so expertly, and she knew he was right. She could, and she would.

With Dash.

No other man could be like him. So cocky but also incredibly caring. Sweet but surprisingly dominant. Carefree yet responsibly settled in a way she’d never expected for a player like him.

And focused. God Almighty, the man had extreme focus, especially when it came to pleasuring her.

She was fast falling in love with the way he touched her, with how he made her feel, his touch.

With him.

But twenty minutes later, she crumbled. Tirelessly, he had teased every inch of her until her skin tingled all over and a fever invaded her muscles and she desperately needed to come. “Dash—”

“I love the way you say my name when you’re so close to letting go.”

His repeated use of the L word no longer alarmed her. She could feel his erection against her bottom, his muscles all rigid as he teased her.

“I love the way you look, how you smell, how you feel, those sexy little sounds you make when you’re so close to coming.” He watched her face as he tipped her back farther, worked his hands under her to push down his flannel pants. “I love watching you wait, hearing that anxious little catch in your voice when you tell me you need me.”

“I do.” She groaned, and managed raggedly, “I need you so badly. Right now.”

“I know.” He leaned forward and the kiss to her mouth was sweet and easy. “But waiting only makes it better.”

The thought of waiting was too much and her legs just naturally tried to pull together.

“Hey, hey...” Dash gently parted them again, then touched her in a way that kept them open—and had her gasping. “Just a few seconds more, honey.”

Carefully, he moved her back so that he could free himself.

Margo didn’t know what new torment he had planned, but she couldn’t bear it. She wanted him more than she wanted her next breath. More than she could remember ever wanting anyone, or anything.

He’d done that to her, deliberately. He’d brought her to this fevered, mindless state of need, and she finally had to admit it—she couldn’t take it. Couldn’t control her reaction. Couldn’t withstand his sensual torment. Not anymore.

Desperately, not giving him a chance to stop her, she wrapped her fingers firmly around him and was rewarded with the catch of Dash’s breath, his utter stillness.

So smooth and hot and hard. He flexed in her hand, a drop of fluid escaping him. In a daze of lust and...love, she stroked him.

Breathing with her, Dash said, “Baby...wait.”

“I can’t.” She used her thumb to spread that drop of fluid around the head of his erection, and with a deep groan Dash gave up fighting her. “I want to taste you, too.”

He clenched his jaw. “Later.” His eyes were heavy-lidded, dark color high on his cheekbones. He breathed harder.

Deliberately, she licked her lips. “You promise?”

His hands contracted on her thighs. “Yeah,” he rasped.

She moved against him, lost in the moment, and he let her, even helped her.

“This is dangerous,” he warned.

“You’re dangerous.” Unable to wait a second more, Margo lifted up, positioned him. Dash let his hands rest lightly on her pelvic bones as he labored for breath. They looked at each other for a suspended moment of time.

With an excruciatingly slow purpose, Margo worked against him until the head of his erection had penetrated. She paused, relishing the moment. She could feel him pulsing, and the unwilling grasp of her body around him.

“Jesus.” Dash strained, his fingers flexing on her thighs. He never broke eye contact.

Neither did she.

She licked her lips, and took a little more, sliding down, then back up again.

A guttural groan rumbled from deep in his chest. “Tease,” he accused, and then added, “I love it.”

Heat mounted between them. She released his erection and instead braced her hand on his rock-solid shoulder.

“More,” he ordered, his eyes glittering.

She nodded...and sank down. This time Dash held her hips and lifted up into her with one steady thrust that penetrated her completely.

Her thighs strained.

His jaw locked.

Margo slumped down over him until her forehead touched his, their noses bumping, their breath mingling.

Nothing had ever felt so good, so right. It was almost too much. He filled her up and then some, stretching her, touching her womb, but that wasn’t the best part. It wasn’t just the intense physical pleasure. It wasn’t just the extreme talent he had for heightening her every sense until she felt drowned in pleasure.

It was Dash. The complete and total connection with him.

“That’s it.” He cupped her face, keeping her close to kiss her, lingering as if he enjoyed sharing her breath.

How could he talk?

His fingers tangled in her curls. “You are so hot and wet. Do you know how you feel to me?”

She gave one small negative shake.

“Perfect. Fucking perfect.” He lifted into her, and she moaned with the extreme enjoyment of it. “Do you feel in control now, baby?”

How? How did one simple movement send fire licking along her nerve endings?

“I know you,” he said, as if he’d read her thoughts, knew her confusion and uncertainty. “Every inch of you.” His hand went over her neck, down her back, down, down...and then in, touching her intimately. Eyes narrowed, he smiled. “I know what you like. I know what you need.”

It could almost be scary, being so sexually dependent on someone who had so much physical influence over her.

“And this.” He touched her nipple with just the right amount of pressure, in just the right way.

She almost came. Almost.

Margo knew he so easily judged her response by the broken sounds of pleasure she made, so she tried biting her lip and keeping still and quiet.

With Dash firmly planted deep inside her.

Dash laughed softly. “That won’t do you any good, you know.” He flexed his hips, sending new tingles spiraling through her already sensitized body. “I pay attention, sweetheart. There are so many ways I can gauge what does it for you, even if you deny it.”

She shook her head, still trying to deny the overwhelming way he moved her.

“Yes. Like how pointed and stiff your nipples are.” He touched each one, and his voice lowered. “How hot and wet you are.” His thumb strummed her clitoris. In a nearly soundless whisper, he added, “And how you’re squeezing my cock like a fucking fist—”

Riding against him, Margo came. Loudly. There was no holding back. No tempering what she felt or the explosive way she expressed it. Her body went taut, her back bowing, her thighs trembling around him.

Gripping her hips, Dash met her frantic rhythm, his own urgency finally making him lose control. She was still twisting with her orgasm when he gripped her down tight to him, his chest and shoulder muscles harshly defined. He growled out his release, and Margo felt it all.

Everything.

Because they hadn’t used protection.

Her fault as much as his.

Fading down against him, feeling those gorgeous muscular arms of his wrap around her, she just couldn’t care.

Yet.

Tomorrow, though, would probably be a different story. But right now, with Dash pressing tender kisses to her temple, his big strong hands coasting over her back, keeping her close, it just didn’t seem that important.

THE STORM WOKE HER. Nestled against Dash, her cheek on his shoulder, one of her legs over his, she slowly opened her eyes.

It almost alarmed her, how entirely right it felt, how safe and comfortable, to be entwined with him. His heat surrounded her, his scent filling her head like a drug.

Outside the window, lightning flashed.

Her next thought was of Oliver. But as she listened, she didn’t hear any scratching at the door.

Carefully she lifted her head to see the clock— 3:00 a.m.

Going by what she could feel, she and Dash were both still naked. Vaguely, she remembered him moving her to her back, going to the restroom and getting a cool washcloth to bathe her. She remembered the gentleness of his touch, his caring as he handed her more aspirin and then kissed her before crawling back into bed beside her, drawing her into close contact with his very fine physique.

Still raised up, Margo looked at him. A little in awe, she studied the breadth of his shoulders, the fine hair under his armpit, the bristly hair on his lean jaw, how utterly beautiful he looked in sleep.

Such a devastating man in every way.

She knew she’d stupidly fallen in love with him. Until she’d felt him coming inside her—without protection—she hadn’t realized just how much she cared. But apparently along with her rigid persona, he’d also stolen her common sense.

Never, not even once, had she ever forgotten to be careful. She was on the pill, only...she hadn’t taken it since the night of the wreck.

Dire repercussions tried to seep in, scrambling her thoughts and destroying her lassitude. She was now wide-awake.

Slowly she drew a calming breath. Maybe it’d still be okay. No reason to borrow trouble yet.

Her attention returned to Dash’s stretched-out body, then his stunning profile. Sexual activity, her fingers and sleep had left his hair badly rumpled. Another burst of lightning showed the shape of his narrow nose, his cheekbones.

That incredible and clever mouth.

Emotion thickened in her chest, pooled in her lower body. There were so many small details about him that appealed to her. She could spend hours just looking at him—

A sudden thought crashed into her and she sat straighter.

Dash stirred, turning away from her and resettling with a deep sigh.

Details.

Taking only a moment to admire Dash’s wide back, the furrow of his spine and how it curved down to lean hips, she slipped out of the bed. Feeling around on the floor, she located the T-shirt he’d given her to wear, and then her housecoat. When she opened the door, it squeaked a little, but he slept on.

Maybe finally getting release had exhausted him. God knew the man was tireless otherwise.

She slipped out of the room and made her way in the dark down the hall. Oliver slept on. The storm had brought a steady rain that seemed soothing more than disturbing. The lightning came without thunder, so it must’ve been far off.

After ensuring the cat wasn’t disturbed, Margo slipped back to her office. She stepped in and eased the door closed behind her before flipping on the desk lamp.

Even now, with work on her mind, she couldn’t completely set aside Dash’s effect on her. Little reminders got in her way, like his scent on her skin, the unfamiliar ache of muscles she seldom used.

The smile that kept trying to play over her mouth.

Sitting in her desk chair, she turned on her laptop and pulled up the internet for a search of car-part dealers in the area.

She recalled seeing the brightly colored, expensive-looking rims on the truck they’d followed. They were unlike any others she’d seen—that had to mean a custom job, right?

If she could research them she could maybe find out where the creep had bought them—and ultimately where he lived. Concentrating, she tried to remember exactly what they looked like. Time ticked by unnoticed.

The search was made more difficult by her stupid splint. Typing was awkward and she had to resort to one-finger pecking to avoid typos.

Later, after the sun rose, she’d also check with Yvette to see if the guy who showed up had those wheels then.

With single-minded focus, she checked every possibility.

For as long as she could remember, she’d had great gut instinct—and right now she had a feeling that something monumental was about to happen.

She would solve this case—or maybe irrevocably lose her heart to Dashiel Riske.

Either way it went, it would be on her terms.

DASH SAW THE LIGHT under her office door. How long had she been up? He stood there a few minutes, undecided, before finally approaching. The rain came harder and flashes of light continually split the dark sky. The once distant storm moved closer.

Only the sound of muted tapping on a keyboard came from inside her office.

He didn’t knock, only opened the door and saw her sitting there in deep concentration, the blue glow of the computer screen reflected in her dark eyes. Her lashes, long and curling, left shadows on her high cheekbones. He loved her hair, how the wispy little curls touched her cheeks, her forehead, the nape of her neck.

Was she upset that he hadn’t used protection? He still couldn’t believe it. He never forgot. Never.

And truthfully, with Margo, he still hadn’t. He’d known he should stop her, that he should take over and move her aside so he could roll on a condom.

But even before her small hand had wrapped firmly around his dick, he’d been resenting the need for protection. He wanted nothing between them, and so...he’d just given in.

He’d conveniently pushed aside his responsibilities and taken her bareback, and God, nothing had ever felt so good. Electric, hot, emotional and physical and consuming.

Concerned, feeling a little guilty—and oddly horny— he stepped up behind her, putting one hand on her shoulder. “Couldn’t sleep?”

For only a brief moment she rested her cheek against his hand, without losing her focus. “I slept—until the storm woke me.” She glanced back. “You’re like a powerful drug. That’s the best rest I’ve had in a long while.” She turned back to the computer.

Relief, that she wasn’t angry or upset, eased some of his tension. He looked at the screen. “What are you doing now?”

“Researching those rims.”

“From the truck that followed us?”

“Yes. I can’t remember the exact design, but I know they were colorful and unique.”

He’d noticed them, too. “It’s important?” Important enough to drive you out of the bed in the middle of the night?

“If I can find the exact rims, I can maybe find out information on our guy.” Again she looked at him over her shoulder—then down his body, focusing on his semi-erection. “Whoever sold him those rims might have his address.”

Not much he could do about getting hard. He was near her, and that was pretty much all it took. But he could offer some help.

Dash tipped up her chin, bent to kiss her and said, “Be right back.”

She watched him go. He felt her gaze until he’d completely left the room.

A few seconds later, after pulling on his boxers and grabbing his cell phone, he returned and showed her the photo opened up on the screen.

“I took a pic,” he explained with a shrug. “Just in case.”

Eyes widening, Margo took the phone. She kept staring at it with disbelief.

Dash couldn’t resist smoothing his hand over those dark curls, rumpled from sleep. She looked so pretty like this, and damned adorable, too. Not at all intimidating. Maybe...gentle. Cuddly.

It was a good look for her.

But then, he also liked it when the shrewd gleam came into her eyes. “You, Dash Riske, are a genius.”

Her enthusiasm made his heart feel full. “I was worried. I wanted to make sure we could find the truck again if he managed to nab you.”

“For once I’m glad you worried.” She quickly emailed the photo to herself so she could see it on a much bigger screen. Once there, she zoomed in, looking at the rims in better detail.

Dash took her arm. “Why don’t you let me type for you?”

“What?” she teased. “You want to be my naked secretary?”

“I put on boxers.”

With a playful frown, she said, “I noticed. Such a spoilsport.” She stood and indicated the chair. “Okay, be my guest.”

Dash seated himself, but hesitated before typing. “About earlier—”

Leaning over his shoulder, she kissed his ear. “You’re a stud. But for now, let’s deal with this.”

“I didn’t use anything.”

“I know.” Her breasts rested against his back and shoulder. “Open that tab on the right. Check out their rims.”

Avoidance. Okay, he could deal with his slipup later, when she wasn’t so focused on work. He opened the tab and clicked to see a special customizable rim. Going back and forth from the photo, he used site settings to create a rim that looked exactly like those on the truck.

“So it’s possible.” Calculating, she straightened again. “Print out the name and number of that place.”

“It’s close,” Dash told her. “Totally within range.”

“Good. Print out a few copies of the truck and rims, too. I want to make sure Rowdy, Reese and Logan all have—”

Suddenly Margo went still, then alert. She kept her gaze on the wall, but Dash felt her sharpening vigilance.

“What is it?”

She breathed in, her eyes narrowing. “Probably nothing. It’s just that—”

They both heard the awful screech of her bedroom closet door.

Someone was in her house.

Dash was out of his chair in a heartbeat, but Margo caught his arm above his elbow. Motioning him to be silent, she opened a desk drawer and retrieved a gun.

Realizing she meant to go out of the room ahead of him, Dash struggled with himself—but only briefly. “Sorry, honey,” he whispered. He bodily moved her aside and stepped out.

Margo said not a single word, but he felt the anger pulsing off her as she followed right on his heels. Putting a hand back, he signaled her to wait, prayed that she would, and began inching toward the bedroom.

He’d only take two small steps when they heard the abrupt thunk—and smelled the awful scent of...kerosene.

THEY WERE BOTH flattened to the hallway wall, and Margo had to admit, Dash utilized as much stealth as she did. For a big man he moved without making a sound. But he wasn’t armed, or trained, or official. She was, and no way would she let him play the caveman.

“Call 911.”

Instead, he started forward.

In a low hiss, she said, “Damn it, Dash,” and everything seemed to happen at once. Oliver screeched as he shot out of the bedroom, his fur clumpy and wet. Another crash sounded in her bedroom, accompanied by a whispered curse.

And Dash charged in.

Gun in hand, Margo followed, but it was too shadowy to see until the lightning flickered. At the same time the bodies stumbled into her before falling out into the hallway.

Her splinted arm banged into a wall, making her clench with pain. Furious, she snapped on the hall light, took aim...and saw that Dash had completely subdued a masked, armed man. The panicked fellow’s gun lay a few feet away on the floor, and Dash—who was much taller than their intruder, and far more muscular—had the man pinned on the ground with a knee in his back. He’d taken the thug’s right arm and twisted it severely back and up, levering it almost to his shoulders.

“Move,” Dash said low, “and I promise she will shoot you.”

Behind the stocking mask, wild eyes widened more. “I ain’t movin’! I ain’t movin’!”

Dash jerked off the man’s mask, revealing a pasty-faced middle-aged goon with faded blond hair and loose jowls. Doing a quick search of the man’s pockets, Dash found a lighter, but nothing else.

Retrieving the other gun, Margo dropped it into her housecoat pocket. Never did she shake over doing her job, but she was shaking now. Suppressed rage made it difficult to speak normally. “Can you hang on to him?”

Dash gave her a longer, searching look. “The prick isn’t going anywhere I don’t want him to go.”

“Okay.” She located her cell phone and, keeping an eye on Dash and the intruder, called it in.

Right after that, she dialed Logan.

He answered with a grumpy, somewhat breathless, “What the fuck?”

Hmmm. It was five in the morning, and yet she’d interrupted...something. “Your brother has detained a masked man who broke into my house and dumped kerosene in my bedroom.”

With a new surge of energy, Logan asked, “Anyone hurt?”

Margo lowered the phone. “Dash,” she said, hoping he didn’t hear the quiver in her voice, “were you hurt?”

He snorted.

“No,” she said to Logan. “Not hurt.” Her jaw ached from grinding her teeth. “I already called it in. I just figured, with Dash here, you’d want to—”

“Definitely. Reese, too. I’ll pick him up on the way.” She heard the rustle of hurried movement, presumably Logan dressing. “And Margaret? I’d have wanted you to call whether Dash was there was not.”

She’d just disconnected the call when sirens sounded nearby. “Hold him tight, Dash. I’ll be right back.”

“No worries.”

So damned cocky. Her heart thumped painfully against her ribs. The intruder had a gun. He could have shot Dash. He could have killed him.

She might have lost him—after she’d just realized how much she cared for him.

At the door, she closed her eyes for just a moment to regain her aplomb. It helped only the tiniest bit.

Forgetting her state of undress, her messy hair and lack of makeup, Margo opened the door and let the officers in.

They were drenched from the downpour—and agog at her attire, but she just didn’t care. She needed to find Oliver, needed to relieve Dash of their intrusive thug, and she needed to figure out how she’d been tracked down.

Because not for a minute did she think this was a random act. The porno-happy firebugs had somehow found her. She had a price on her head.

And Dash was more involved than ever.

They’d rattled the bushes with false claims of leads from the abandoned garage fire, and look what happened.

Now what?