Wicked and Dangerous

ONE

AS DECKER MCCONNELL STRODE INTO THE LOUD BAR AT HALF past nine on a Saturday night, the woman’s picture burned a hole in the pocket of his black shirt. In the past six hours, he’d stared at it a hundred times. Rachel Linden, age twenty-nine. Divorced. Graduate of UCLA, summa cum laude, with a degree in education. Recent transplant from sleepy Moss Beach on the Florida coast to Louisiana. Currently employed by the Lafayette Parish school system as an elementary English teacher. Those facts might define the brunette whose dark eyes sparkled from a seemingly average oval face, but that didn’t explain why just looking at her photo made him hard as hell.

“You sure this Rachel woman is going to be here?” his boss, Xander Santiago, asked, propped up against the quiet corner of the bar on his left.

“Unless she bails on her own birthday party, yep. I’ve got to find her before this situation goes south.”

Decker sighed and surveyed the crowd through the club’s flashing lights. People were getting their drink on and looking around for a nightly hookup. From what he could gather, Rachel was only here because the new neighbors and coworkers who had become her friends insisted that she celebrate her big day. Though the club was packed more tightly than meat behind cellophane, he hoped he’d spot her soon. Every minute that slid by was another minute that bad shit could happen.

And he wasn’t about to let it. He was a protector by nature. If the cops weren’t going to help, then he guessed it had become his job. For whatever reason—boredom, maybe?—he felt the urge to make sure she stayed safe.

Rachel’s picture suggested that she possessed a shy, good-girl quality. Not usually the kind of female he gravitated to. That meant he’d probably find her in a corner somewhere, trying to blend into the wall. He’d have to fish around for some way to set her at ease before he glued himself to her side long enough to untangle this clusterfuck he’d unwittingly stepped in. As far as he was concerned, naked was the best way to keep her from harm’s way because he wasn’t remotely interested in being her big brother. Everything he’d been able to dig up indicated that since becoming single again, she’d lived like a nun. That was really fucking unfair to the male species. The idea of her peeling off a button-down shirt and “work-appropriate” skirt to reveal her soft curves, scantily clad in lingerie, made his cock stand up and salute.

Get your mind out of the gutter and back on business.

Decker hated that voice in his head. The gutter was way more fun.

“Are you sure about this?” Xander’s brother, Javier, asked beside him.

He turned to the guy with a shrug. “No, but I don’t know what my more appealing options are. Believe me, if I hadn’t run into a colossal pile of shit this afternoon looking for a cold beer and an easy lay, I wouldn’t be here now, searching for a woman I’ve never met.”

“And you tried the police?” Xander asked.

“Useless.” Decker rolled his eyes. “How much evidence should I need to prove another man’s intent to commit a crime? The fuckers could at least look into it.”

But the lazy bastards of the Lafayette Police Department hadn’t listened to a word he’d said while LSU played football. On the other hand, he probably shouldn’t send a starched uniform fresh out of the backwoods police academy to do a job the CIA had trained him once upon a time to do far better.

“So you think this plan will work?” Javier asked.

“You got a better one?” He shoved Rachel’s picture under the other man’s nose. “Look at her. She’s a school teacher. She looks sweet, for fuck’s sake. I can’t stand here with my thumb up my ass and let this nut job put a hole in her head.”

Studying the picture, Javier sipped his tonic water. After a couple of years of supposedly being cozier with vodka than sanity, sobriety now suited him. “Of course not. I’m just saying that if she’s recently divorced, she might not appreciate you romancing her for ulterior motives.”

“What my brother means is that in a few short months of marriage to London, we’ve learned how quickly our lovely bride can hand us our balls when we’ve screwed up.” Xander smiled. “He’s thinking that you’d probably like to keep yours attached to your body.”

“Exactly.” Javier grinned.

“I can’t tell her the truth,” Decker argued. “Why would she believe a total stranger trying to convince her that someone’s put a price on her head? Besides the twenty-five grand and the phone number this guy gave me, all I’ve got is her picture and some basic information I could have pulled off the Internet. None of that proves anything. If she actually does believe me, I’d probably scare the hell out of her.” He tossed his hands up. “This asshole gave me a few days to finish the job. I’ll just make the problem go away by then. Even if Rachel isn’t thrilled with my method, she’ll be alive.”

He peered deeper into the club, ignoring the come-ons of a few girls who didn’t look old enough to even be here, wearing skirts so short he could almost tell if the carpet matched the drapes. Finally, the crowd parted, and he spotted his target near the wall, just as he’d predicted. Rachel. White wine in hand. Long hair like a chocolate waterfall. Pretty profile. Thick lashes. Button nose. Full lips that would look perfect wrapped around his cock.

Damn it, he wanted to get her naked. What a shame that wasn’t his first priority with her, but he hoped he could find a way to make it a close second.

She smiled as a tall, African-American woman beside her whispered in her ear. Then suddenly, Rachel whipped her gaze around and met his stare. Her little, rosy mouth opened with a gasp. Even through the smoke and over the racket of the bad country singer on the stage across the room, he could all but hear the sound. Yeah, he felt the electric zing, too. Up his spine and clear down to his toes, it engorged his cock so completely, he wanted to rip off that god-awful sensible blouse she wore, tear away her panties, and fuck her breathless in the next thirty seconds. Normally, he would, but this situation meant he had to use the head up north—at least a little. And didn’t that just piss him off.

How fucking ironic that he couldn’t pick her up just for the fun of it. No, he had to get close to keep her alive. Honestly, Decker didn’t like lying to her either. The hell of it was he couldn’t think of another way to protect the woman he’d been hired to kill.

• • •

RACHEL LINDEN FIXED her gaze across the room at the man staring her way, standing between the two suits. Her jaw dropped before she forcibly snapped it shut. Holy cow! Between the alcohol and the press of bodies, she was overheated. But he made her shiver.

Military-short black hair capped off his angled face, covered by a healthy two days’ growth of beard. His eyes remained hidden behind a pair of aviators that rested on top of chiseled cheekbones. His black shirt nearly busted at the shoulder seams. Under the short sleeves, his biceps bulged. The soft cotton clung to every valley and ridge of his pectorals and abdominals.

He was a man with a capital M, the sort who made a woman swallow her tongue. The kind her mother had warned her about. The type who’d starred in her fantasies. And the one she wanted sliding against her skin-to-skin now. Dark and bad, yes . . . but those big hands and muscled forearms alone said he’d be oh so good.

Just looking at him, Rachel had trouble breathing. Every inch of him was hard. If she’d had a fantasy in the flesh, he’d be it.

A tattoo—Asian writing maybe—drifted down his veined forearm. Dog tags hung from his neck. The little smile curling his lips was somewhere between an invitation and a challenge. And he was staring directly at her.

The bottom fell out of her stomach. Normally, she’d shy away from such a man. Aaron, the fifth grade social studies teacher, had asked her out a few weeks ago. He was polite and had kind brown eyes. He’d mentioned a local theater production that sounded interesting. That was her speed. This man in front of her . . .

“He looks good enough to eat. And to lick, slurp, suck . . . Damn, girl!” Shonda, one of the art teachers, murmured in her ear.

If you’re going to dive into a meal after starving, why not start with the juiciest one you can find?

She glanced at Shonda’s dark skin gleaming under the dim house lights and faintly flashing colored strobes. “Is it my imagination or is he staring at me?”

“Right at you, like he thinks you’re a tasty snack. Go on now. Talk to him.”

And say what? Hi, I haven’t had sex since I divorced my ex over a year ago, and I’ve never had it as down and dirty and sweaty as I’ll bet you could give it to me.

“Maybe he thinks I work here.”

Shonda snorted. “Maybe you’re insane. Jarelle is an awesome fiancé with enough freak in bed to keep me smiling, but hell . . . If I were single, I’d be all over that guy like paste on wallpaper.”

Rachel laughed. Leave it to Shonda to tell it like it was. And to be right. Rachel had to admit that she’d never know what could be if she didn’t try to talk to Mr. Tall, Dark, and Hot.

She turned back toward him, a welcoming smile in place. But he was already leaving behind his two friends, wearing insanely expensive suits, and walking her way. No, “walking” was the wrong word. “Approaching” was too weak. “Looming” maybe? Still not right. “Prowling,” yes. “Stalking” sounded even more like it.

He tore off his sunglasses to reveal a stark pair of blue eyes, unabashedly roaming over her body with a heat that made her swallow. He kept coming at her, invading her personal space without compunction. Reflexively, she retreated. He smiled, then did it again and again—until her back hit the wall.

“Hi, beautiful.”

Mercy, the low rumble of his voice was sexy. Her knees quaked.

“Hi.” She breathed the word as if she couldn’t quite catch her breath.

He looked her up and down, obviously scoping her out. “Hmm, you with all those curves, and me here with no breaks . . . Damn!”

OMG, was that some sort of pick-up line?

“Um . . .”

If he’d intended to flatter her, he was headed in the wrong direction. She’d write him off, except . . . The black skirt Shonda had insisted she wear tonight had seemed stupidly tight—until she saw the appreciation in his gaze. That and his line, no matter how terrible, made her think that, maybe, he actually found her sexy. And she wasn’t interested in him for his conversational skills.

“Too much, huh?” he asked with a frown. “How about, there must be something wrong with my eyes because I can’t take them off you.”

He was trying to pick her up—badly—but out of a bar full of pretty girls, he’d zeroed in on her. Would wonders never cease?

Maybe if she stopped focusing on her ex-husband’s litany of critical comments and started to believe that some men might like her as she was, curves and all, it wouldn’t seem so weird.

“Definitely too much.” She gave him a smile that she hoped looked sophisticated and wry, rather than giggly and excited.

“Oh, you like subtle. I got it.” He leaned closer and leered. “Hey, baby, you come here often?”

The most obvious pick-up line ever, and when he delivered it with a grin, she laughed. If this was his idea of starting a conversation, she wasn’t sure whether she should be annoyed or charmed against her will. But she was definitely leaning toward the latter.

“Never. This is my first time,” she admitted. “You?”

“Same. I was thinking that I hated places like this until I saw you. You’re better than a broom because you swept me off my feet.”

Rachel couldn’t help but laugh. “Right . . .”

“No lie, beautiful.” He winked at her. “Tell me, what’s your sign?”

Yield. If she were holding a sign, that’s probably what it would say because that’s kind of what she wanted to do for him. Oh, but she guessed that wasn’t what he meant.

“Libra,” she said finally. “Today is my birthday. And I’ll only keep talking to you if you stop with the pick-up lines.”

“Happy birthday! You mean I can’t ask you for a Band-Aid?”

She frowned. How had they gone from pick-up lines to Band-Aids? “I’m sorry?”

“I need one because I scraped my knees falling for you.”

Rachel tossed her hands up, shaking her head, and giggled. “Does this sort of thing usually work for you?”

He shrugged. “Don’t know. I never tried. You wanna tell me come morning?”

“My mama has a word for men like you. ‘Incorrigible.’”

Mock horror crossed his face. “I’ve given you the impression that I’m a bad boy with no manners. Okay, maybe that’s not too far off. How about we start over? Decker.”

He held out his hand for a friendly shake, and she hesitated only an instant before she slipped hers inside. A quick sizzle between them nearly made her shiver. It traveled up her arm and through her body as his hand—warm, calloused, and huge—engulfed hers. Dark hair dusted his forearms. Veins stood out. Decker was obviously strong, but he touched her gently. When he smiled, the light inside reached his eyes.

“I’m Rachel.”

Slowly, he released her, and she was almost disappointed when he did. “So, Rachel the birthday girl, can I buy you a drink?”

She shook her head. “I’ve already had two. That’s my limit. I still have to drive home.”

“How about a dance?”

As if the cosmos knew exactly what Decker had planned, the twangy singer suddenly took a break and the deejay played something slow and sexy—the kind of music that made people want to drop their clothes and get horizontal.

“I’m not much of a dancer,” she demurred.

Because if she pressed up against him and swayed to the music, she might get ideas about taking him for a test drive, at least for the night.

Wasn’t that half the point of coming here?

She’d allowed Shonda and a few of the others to drag her to this dive to not only celebrate her big two-nine, but to see if, maybe, she could find a hot guy to spend the night with. She hadn’t been touched since well before her divorce, and she wanted to be kissed, experience some serious skin-on-skin contact, then cuddle afterward. Decker didn’t necessarily look like he specialized in cuddling, but he seemed more than capable of making her scream. A definite bonus since giving orgasms had never been Owen’s strong suit.

“Good thing for you I am, then. C’mon . . . One little dance won’t hurt. It’s either that or I give you more bad pick-up lines until you agree.”

“You have more?”

“Oh yeah!” He grinned. “Can I have your picture so I can show Santa what I want for Christmas?”

“That’s months away.”

“Good point. I don’t want to wait that long.” He thought for a moment, then grinned again. “Are you a parking ticket? Because you’ve got ‘fine’ written all over you.”

“Oh my—Where do you find this stuff?”

“Thank the great people at Google.”

“You looked that up on purpose?”

“Yep. I’m sure my mom would be super proud.”

She slapped her hand to her forehead. When was the last time she’d laughed this much around a man? Never. Owen possessed zero sense of humor. Decker was totally different—and a welcome change.

Swallowing back her usual caution, Rachel nodded at him. “One dance.”

“Great!” He grabbed her hand and tugged her onto the floor.

As he dragged her past her friends, she turned to see Shonda give her a thumbs-up, her neon pink nail polish glowing in the dim lighting. Beside her, the office aide, Alicia, laughed at something a guy at the next table said. Every man talked to Alicia. Blond and stacked and sweet as the day was long, it was a miracle that she was still single at the ripe age of twenty-four. Rachel was sure that some smart guy would come along soon and rectify that.

“Ah ah, eyes here, birthday girl.” Decker gave a little tug on her arm, and she fell right against him. He settled his arms loosely around her waist, his big hands laying claim to the small of her back. His fingers dipped a little bit lower. His blue eyes flared with wicked heat. “Now I’ve got you where I want you. But I might have a problem.”

She gave him a wary frown. “What’s that?”

“I hope you know CPR because you take my breath away.”

A laugh spilled out before she could stop it. She gave his shoulder a playful hit. “Stop. Tell me something about you, other than your affinity for looking up crazy things on Google. Where are you from? What do you do?”

“I’m from all over. Military brat who eventually went into the military, too. I’ve been out a few years. Then I did some work for Uncle Sam. Now I work for S.I. Industries in security.”

The military fit. Working for the government? She doubted very much he’d pushed pencils for the IRS, but she didn’t pry. Security made sense, too. With his ridiculously bulging shoulders and air of strength, he looked more than capable of being a protector.

“S.I. Industries?” she asked. “Was that Javier and Xander Santiago you were talking to?”

Since moving to Lafayette over the summer, she’d read their names and seen their pictures repeatedly in the local rag. The brothers were only slightly better known for their prestigious, growing company and the jobs it was bringing to the area as they were for the rumors they shared a wife.

“Yes. I’ve worked for Xander for a few years. Until he got married, I did nothing but bail him out of scrapes. Now I devote my spare time to whatever makes mischief.” He winked. “How about you?”

“I’m a school teacher. Fifth grade English.”

Decker gave her a long, slow smile. “I got a whole bunch of naughty teacher fantasies.”

“I’ve got,” she corrected automatically.

“You, too?” He pretended to misunderstand. “Awesome! You know, if you were my homework, I’d be doing you on my desk.”

“You did not just say that,” she scolded.

“I totally did.” He flashed her a grin. “Google really is helpful. I have more.”

“Stop, please.” Rachel laughed. “I’m raising the white flag.”

“Not yet. I have one more you need to hear.” Decker curled his arms more tightly around her.

The breath of air between them disappeared as he fitted her against his body. Rachel gasped. He was hard all over. Her palms slid up his biceps and over his shoulders, both like rocks. His chest was like a hot slab of concrete. The ridges of his abdomen led her to believe there’d be at least a six-pack under there. But lower . . . He bent his knees a fraction and notched his erection against the vulnerable V between her legs. And oh, all that thickness and length couldn’t be him, could it?

“Yes?” she moaned as he rolled his hips against her and hit one really pleasurable spot that . . . wow.

“That’s a nice dress you’re wearing,” he murmured in her ear, then brushed his lips up the side of her neck until she trembled and closed her eyes.

“It’s a skirt and blouse.”

“Whatever. It would look better on the floor next to my bed.”

Rachel’s breath caught. He was propositioning her. Guys like him never found her attractive. They usually liked Alicia. On the one hand, her libido definitely wanted to say yes. She found everything about him made her heart rev. Her common sense might be hesitating, but every cell in her body clamored for her to rub against him and grab whatever pleasure he was willing to give her. But the more cautious part of her just wouldn’t be shushed.

“How do I know you’re not a crazed killer?”

He cocked his head. “You have any Taliban or drug cartel affiliations?”

“Um . . .” Rachel reared back a bit in his arms. “No. I can safely say that I don’t.”

“Then we’ll have no problems. The only thing I want to massacre is your desire to say no.”

Decker might have phrased it like a joke, but he looked dead serious. Was she actually considering this? Was she really thinking of going home with a man she’d met ten minutes ago and opening her body to him?

Well, sunshine, if you want sex with a hot guy, it’s not like Magnolia Elementary school is a hotbed of gorgeous, single men. You’re going to have to step out on a limb.

Ugh, she hated that little devil on her shoulder, always urging her to do something she probably shouldn’t.

Rachel opened her mouth to politely decline when the voice blared in her ear again.

Think about this. Who talked you into marrying the poster child for bedroom boredom, even knowing he was way more versed in physics than pleasure?

The voice had a really good point. Besides, he worked for a good company and had friends who were upstanding financial pillars of the community now. How bad could he be?

She peered up at Decker, curling her arms just a bit tighter around his neck. “Do you know anything about physics?”

He raised a dark brow. “Would that turn you on?”

“No.” Not at all.

“Then you’ll be happy to know I failed eleventh grade science.”

“Thrilled.” She sent him her most dazzling smile.

“Is that a yes?” Decker pulled her closer, his face going straight into the crook of her neck, his whiskers awakening her skin with gentle abrasion.

How would it feel if he dragged his face up her body? Between her thighs? He drew his lips to the soft skin of her ear. Rachel caught her breath.

He nipped, tugged on her sensitive lobe. “Please say that’s a yes. You’re so fucking beautiful, you made me forget my next pick-up line.”

She shivered at the rough whisper in her ear. The musky scent of his male flesh surrounded her completely. Hard, demanding, unyielding . . . he made her blood rush and parts of her surprisingly damp. What if she said yes?

“I want to be in charge,” she breathed out, then nodded, finding her voice again. “Of everything. I want to say where and when and how.”

He pulled back enough to cup her face. Surprise glowed in his deep blue eyes. “Is that how you usually roll, beautiful?”

With a nervous shake of her head, she forced herself to meet his gaze head on—and not think about the fact that his lips hovered just above her own. “No. But I need that now. I want to tell you what I want.”

A grin creased his face, and he relaxed. “You should always be able to tell a man what you want. If his little ego is offended, he doesn’t have much of one in the first place. And I can guarantee you, his mind isn’t the only thing about him that’s small.”

Rachel laughed, but he wasn’t wrong. Every suggestion she’d ever made in the bedroom, no matter how gentle, Owen had taken as criticism. He’d always gotten stiff—and she didn’t mean his, um . . . member, which hadn’t been at all big.

“I don’t want any surprises. I don’t want to feel out of control.” She’d spent so much time turning herself inside out, trying to please Owen, only to constantly fall short. She’d never known when she was going to encounter a bad mood, the cold shoulder, or a completely unsatisfying quickie. He hadn’t seemed to care how any of that made her feel, and she refused to repeat that experience.

“All right. If that’s the way you want it, I’m game. You lead the way, and I’ll follow.”

She sighed with relief. “My place. Now.”

Even saying the words made a little shiver curl up her spine. His answering grin suggested lots of screaming fun in her future. What could go wrong?

• • •

DECKER HAD TO work to hold in his surprise. If she enjoyed being in charge in the bedroom, he’d change his name to Bugs Bunny. But he’d deal with that when they hit the sheets. As soon as he’d absolved her of the notion that she had an ounce of Dominant blood in her veins, he’d send her into an orgasm-induced stupor. Then he’d get to work. But he didn’t think he could focus on business for long before he took care of pleasure because her curves were killing his concentration.

His first order of business, unrelated to partaking of her sweetness he couldn’t wait to corrupt, would be to take a quick trek through her e-mails, Facebook, and texts. He’d look for anything that might give him some clue about who would want her dead and why, see how they fit with the asshole who’d sat next to him at the bar earlier today. Frankly, his money was on the ex-husband. Nothing like divorce to make someone want a fatal bullet full of revenge. No idea what Rachel had done to “deserve” it, and he didn’t care. He wasn’t letting the scumbag who’d solicited him to commit murder succeed.

He grinned at her. “Your place, huh? Let’s go.”

“I’ve got to grab my purse.” She turned away and took his hand, leading him back to her table. “I must be out of my mind.” He heard her mutter to herself.

Nice to know that she didn’t make a habit of picking up guys in bars, but it didn’t matter. He had a stash of condoms and a mission to accomplish. Rachel’s personal life otherwise was none of his business.

As they reached the table, he noticed that most of her party had left in the past few minutes. Or hooked up with others and dispersed. But the tall woman with the chocolate skin was staring at her phone with wide eyes.

“I’ve got to go!” She grabbed her coat and looked at Rachel anxiously. “My little brother has been in a car accident. The ambulance is rushing him to the hospital.”

Shock hit Rachel’s face. “Go!”

“Alicia . . .”

“I’ll take her home.”

The woman’s dark eyes slid over Rachel holding his hand. “You’re busy . . .”

“You’re having an emergency. I can pause for ten minutes to take Alicia home. Go!”

The statuesque woman nodded, then hugged Rachel. “Thanks.”

“Do you need me at the hospital?”

The woman hesitated, but looked like she wanted to say yes. “I’ll call you.”

Well, hell . . . Here might be a fly in his ointment. Decker winced. He’d look like a grade-A ass for insisting they fuck while some kid might be fighting for his life. “Do you need to take a rain check, beautiful?”

She hesitated. “I have to take another friend home first.”

“And your mind is going to be on her brother.” He nodded after the black woman with the outrageous shoes currently scurrying to the door.

Rachel bit her lip. “Probably. I’m really sorry . . .”

She was loyal to her friends, and he admired that. Knowing that she cared about the people around her made him feel even more protective.

Boohoo. Next thing he knew, he’d be crying at greeting card commercials. Even if she’d been the douchiest bitch from hell, he wouldn’t condone her ex or some random ass-hat trying to do her in.

“Don’t worry about it. How about I give you my number, and you see if you feel like calling me tomorrow?” He hated leaving the ball in her court. It seriously went against his grain, but he couldn’t come on too strong now without making her suspicious. He’d think of something tomorrow, if necessary.

But that didn’t mean he intended to leave her alone tonight.

“Really?”

Those big, dark eyes of hers widened in surprise. Hell, those were going to be the undoing of all his bad intentions. One of those expressions, and he felt like he was contemplating seducing Little Bo Peep, for fuck’s sake.

“Of course. As much as I’d like to spend tonight with you, I can be patient. If you’re still interested tomorrow, I’m yours. Don’t get me wrong, I’m fighting the urge to make you the happiest woman on the planet tonight.” He grinned, and she bestowed that gorgeous smile on him with the dimple in her left cheek that somehow made him harder. “But I suppose I can make you doubly happy tomorrow.”

“I’d like that,” she murmured.

And Decker believed that she meant it. Hot damn!

He scribbled the number of the new disposable phone he’d picked up before coming here on the back of the bar’s napkin and wrote his first name, then handed it to her. Rachel took it with a smile.

“It was good to meet you. I’m going to get out of here and take Alicia home, but . . . really, thanks for making me smile.”

“You deserve a great birthday, beautiful. I hope your friend’s brother is all right.”

Just in case he’d misread her and she didn’t intend to call, then he’d have to barge his way into her life in a less seductive fashion. That would suck. He wanted her taste on his tongue at least this once. He could be satisfied with one kiss, right?

TWO

DECKER TOOK HOLD OF HER SOFT CHEEKS AND TILTED HER lips under his, pressing a kiss to her mouth. Pliant, moist, velvety. Holy shit. Her sweetness absolutely flattened him.

No way he’d ever be satisfied with just one kiss.

Without another thought, he charged in, taking possession of her mouth and demanding more. In his arms, Rachel stiffened. Crap, he had to dial back the urgency and the impulse to crush those sweet lips under his own and take control. But this girl was like sinking into his most sugary-spun fantasy. He could kiss her for the next two days and not get enough. The idea of owning her lips for his use by his mouth, by his cock . . . Hell, he was about to bust out of his jeans.

Under him, Rachel suddenly whimpered, and Decker braced himself for her to push him away. Instead, she threw her arms around him, latched on like she was drowning, and pressed those plump breasts against his chest. He didn’t need more green light than that.

Decker gripped her tighter, dove in deeper, caressing his way down her back and grabbing a handful of her pert ass, settling in for a really atomic lip lock. He tangled his tongue with hers, shared her breath, and rocked against her. She shouldn’t have to guess what he wanted or how badly he ached for it. Rachel stood on her tiptoes and melted against him even more.

Until the jerk at the next table shoved his chair back, straight into them. Then she gasped and wriggled away. Damn it to hell . . .

He wanted to yank her back against him, wrap her legs around his waist, and fuck her into next week. But he’d promised to give her control. If he wanted more of her later, he had to live up to his word and let her go now.

Decker couldn’t resist brushing her sultry lips with his own one last time, then reluctantly he forced himself to release her. “I really hope you call.”

Rachel smiled, her cheeks a flushed pink discernible even in the dim light. He would bet every dime in his bank account that she didn’t have a whole lot of sexual experience. And he’d be happy as hell to broaden her horizons.

Decker turned away and maneuvered through the crowd to the front of the club, then shoved the door open. Stepping out into the balmy October evening, he strode to his bike and ripped the chin strap of his helmet off the highway peg before shoving the damn thing on his head. Annoyance chafed. Of course he wanted to fuck her. But it went against his instincts to leave her alone right now for even a minute. Decker took a deep breath. He had to hope that whoever wanted her dead would give him the promised few days to complete the job before sending someone else.

Straddling his Ducati, he settled back onto the leather seat. Sure enough, a few minutes later, Rachel rushed out of the nightclub, keys in hand, and headed to her car, her blond friend swaying drunkenly behind her. She unlocked a sturdy little white Toyota with her key fob. Halfway across the parking lot, she fished in her purse for her phone, completely ignoring her surroundings. Absently, she dialed someone and spoke to the trailing blonde, still not paying any attention to potential danger. Decker made a mental note to teach her to stay alert before he squashed this murder-for-hire plot and moved on. And once she admitted that she wasn’t any sort of Domme, he might even blister her ass a little for this episode, just for fun.

The thought made him smile.

Rachel piled her inebriated friend into the passenger’s seat, then hustled around the car before climbing in. Decker took that as his cue to start his bike and follow. He kept a respectable distance—not that she was paying a lick of attention—and followed her to the other woman’s place, watching Rachel help her up the stairs and into her little cookie-cutter apartment. Then she raced back to her car, on the fucking phone again, and drove off. God, if he’d wanted to kill her, he could have done it twenty times by now before she ever realized she was dead.

Next stop was the hospital. The parking lot was lit decently, and the emergency room was hopping. But this many strangers this close to her made him nervous. He parked his bike and followed discreetly until she was safely inside, hating that he couldn’t trail her any closer without being seen.

With a sigh, he waited in the shadows. Just in case the prick who’d hired him was impatient, he wasn’t going to give anyone the opportunity to off her in a parking lot and make it look random.

About ninety minutes later, she emerged under the little portico outside the ER’s automatic door. She and her wildly dressed friend exchanged a few words under the glaring LED lights overhead and hugged. The black woman’s face was dotted with tears and smudged mascara, but she managed a relieved smile. Then Rachel darted out to her car as the other woman headed back into the hospital. Decker followed his little bundle of curves in the sinful black skirt. She never noticed.

Predictably, Rachel drove straight toward home. When she finally looked in her rearview mirror at a stoplight, he turned right onto another street, taking a gamble that she didn’t have an alternate destination in mind. He raced to her darkened cottage on the quiet residential street he’d scoped out during recon earlier in the evening. Ditching his bike on the next cul-de-sac, he dashed around the block to beat Rachel. He wanted to check inside, make sure she didn’t come home to any nasty surprises.

It took him all of two minutes to jimmy his way through a back window. She had zero security—another conversation they’d be having before he hit the road again. He crawled through to a guest room, figuring he had three minutes at most to scope out the place before she pulled into her little attached garage.

In less than sixty seconds, he’d crept through every room in the house, pried open closets, checked any other obvious hiding spots. The place was spotless and devoid of any life except a purring cat who curled around his ankles. He’d always been a dog person.

“Hairball . . .” he groused.

“Meow,” the little orange tabby wailed at him, rubbing against his pant leg again.

Decker smiled, despite himself, and scratched the cat between the ears. “I’ll bet she spoils you rotten and rubs you all the time, lucky thing.”

The cat only purred louder.

He caught sight of her computer on a little desk in the corner of her living room. He’d check her phone as soon as she nodded off. Framed photos rested all around her place, on shelves, countertops, and the mantle. He didn’t dare turn on lights now to investigate, but soon.

Finally, he heard the electronic hum of the garage door opening. He beat feet to a hiding place he’d found during his search, wedging into the guest room closet behind her winter clothes and the leaf for her dining room table. She came in and he heard her drop her keys in the little copper dish on the console table in her foyer. Her heels clicked across the hardwood, then stopped abruptly. He tensed.

“Did you have a good evening, Val? Been a good boy? Miss me?”

“Meow.”

“Don’t look at me like that. I fed you before I left. I didn’t leave you for that long.” When the cat meowed again, she sighed. “Give me a minute, and we’ll go to bed. Why you can’t find the bed without me is a mystery.”

As Decker grinned, she started across the floor again, and the click of her shoes progressed past the guest room and down the hall. In the master bedroom, he heard the smart tap of her heels stop before she dropped them on the floor and moaned in relief.

A minute later, he heard her set something on a hard surface with a gentle plop, then a door closed. The shower began to run.

Rachel was going to get naked. Fuck if that didn’t turn him on all over again.

Decker yanked his brains out of his jeans and waited about sixty seconds before he crept from the closet. No sign of her. He heard the water splashing inside the stall and the sound of her singing a peppy, upbeat pop tune about someone calling her maybe. He couldn’t fight the grin on his face as he made his way into her bedroom.

Here was a good place to start his search for clues. The cat lounged on the bed and raised his head with a yawn. Damn hairball got to sleep with Rachel tonight. Hell yeah, he was jealous.

Hustling across the room, he found her phone on her nightstand. No password protection. He shook his head and accessed her texts. It didn’t take long to scroll through them. A message from Shonda earlier in the day detailing her party at the nightclub. Her mother asking whether she’d be coming home for Thanksgiving. Her neighbor begging her to cat-sit. Decker yawned until he came to Owen. It didn’t take him long to surmise that this was the name of her ex-barfbag, and didn’t he sound like a real fun guy.

Did you take my box of books in the closet of my study when you left? I am missing several crucial texts relating to relativistic quantum fields, two-level atoms, and condensed matter.

He was a physicist? Wow, if Rachel went for the studious type, Decker figured he wouldn’t last long with her. Of course she’d claimed she was thrilled he wasn’t into such things . . . But from about the tenth grade on, he’d devoted himself to T&A.

After a brief stint as a juvenile delinquent, he’d graduated from high school and joined the military. His dad wasn’t around to care, and his mom had been too exhausted working three jobs to say much. Since he had aptitude for fighting and sneaking around, he’d gotten into Special Ops, which eventually led to a stint with the CIA. All that had made him get his shit together, but he was never going to be a bookworm.

He glanced through Rachel’s exchange with her ex. It was a lot of blah, blah, blah. Owen was on the short list for the Wolf Prize in Physics, whatever that was, and he had notes in those texts he needed. Everything was pretty civil until, after looking for the books again, Owen insisted that she must be lying. He asked sharply if she was trying to sabotage his career, hinting that she’d always resented his work.

Rachel had stopped responding at that point. Decker wished she’d told the asshole to get fucked.

Less than an hour later, Owen had texted her some stiff, stupid-ass apology, saying that he’d found his textbooks—and he didn’t appreciate her impolite lack of response, but he wasn’t surprised in the least.

As evidence went, it was thin. A DA would find it circumstantial at best, but the divorce, coupled with this kind of stuff, might add up to motive.

With a frown, Decker placed the phone back where he’d found it, then peeked inside her nightstand. Well, well, well . . . Under a wrist brace and an old copy of Vogue, he found a battery-operated clit stimulator, a slender vibe that would be too weak to really get her off, and an electronic reader chock-full of BDSM romances. So beautiful Miss Button-down had a naughty side. Damn if that didn’t do his heart good.

With blood giving fresh life to his unflagging erection, he dashed out to the family room and scanned her e-mails in less than two minutes. Most were from family members sending jokes or the parents of her students asking questions. A quick scan of the documents saved on her hard drive only proved that she kept her checkbook in Excel and she was a good little saver. Her Facebook was squeaky clean. He uncovered nothing suspicious.

On her way through the house, Rachel had flipped on lights. Decker finally got a good look at the comfortable place, ducking into each room to scan her pictures. He didn’t see anyone who resembled the guy who’d hired him to kill Rachel.

Then again, if her ex was the guilty party, she wasn’t likely to keep heart-shaped photos of him lying around after the divorce.

From down the hall, he heard her cut off the shower and he ducked back into the guest room closet to wait for her to fall asleep. He wasn’t keen to spend the night against a wall, shoved behind a bunch of coats, but he’d slept in worse places. Afghanistan came to mind. He’d been through a few South American jungles in his time, too. At least here he didn’t have to worry about terrorists or snakes.

A moment later, the disposable phone in his pocket vibrated, and he pulled it out.

Are you still awake?—Rachel

Oh, now, this was interesting. It was just after midnight. Did she want to reach out and touch him?

Yes, beautiful. Thinking of you. What are you wearing?

Since she’d just stepped out of the shower, he’d bet it was nothing or damn close to it. He looked forward to seeing how she’d answer that.

Rachel waited a long time to reply, and he was just about to tap out a little something designed to calm her nerves when she finally sent a message back.

Feel like coming over to see?

Did he ever . . . His cock completely approved of the idea, twitching at the thought of getting deep inside her and spending most of the night. He’d been on one case after another lately, and it had been way too long since he’d had a willing female in a warm bed. The fact that he’d get to end his drought with Rachel was even sweeter. Now he’d see that lush ass under the tight skirt—and fondle it, and bite it, and . . . anything else she’d let him do. The fact that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this into a woman he’d just met was a bonus.

Yes! Can you guess what has 142 teeth and holds back a hungry beast?

No idea, she sent back.

My zipper, beautiful. Text me your address and I’ll show you.

Decker heard her giggle from the next room. Then her address flashed on his screen. Oh, it was on now.

I’ll be there in 15.

After a little squeal, she tossed her phone down and tore into the bedroom. Music started blaring a moment later, and he heard her opening and closing the drawers and doors in the bathroom cabinet. The hair dryer flipped on. That was his cue to leave.

Slowly, Decker opened the closet door, ducking out from under the coats and setting the table leaf back in place. He eased the window open and crawled through, landing on his feet on her little back patio. Her yard was small, but she’d made it her own lush little garden with ivy and delicate flowers in white, gold, and purple. He was clueless about their species, but he’d bet that Rachel loved it out here. She’d made this her little oasis, complete with a padded wrought iron chaise in one corner where she likely got the most shade. She’d left behind an empty teacup and a magazine on the little wooden table beside it. He kind of wished that he’d get to spend time with her in this space. As she lifted her face to the sun, she would smile and glow.

And he needed to get his head out of his ass. He wouldn’t have long to right this wrong. S.I. Industries always had dirty work. Defense contracting was populated with a bunch of good ol’ boys whose middle names all seemed to be Greed. He didn’t have an assignment at the moment, but Decker knew it wouldn’t be long. Since Xander and Javier had started sharing that lush blonde they now called wife, they seemed far more intent on enjoying the honeymoon part of their marriage. Or were they on a babymoon now? After all, they would be daddies by next May. The trio seemed disgustingly happy.

Decker tried not to, but he wondered why he’d never found someone he wanted to spend more than a few hours with. Rachel had eventually moved on from Owen, but at least she’d believed herself in love enough once to roll the dice. He’d never felt much beyond his dick twitch.

Shoving aside the thought, he climbed the fence and hopped onto the little walkway outside her kitchen window. Not two minutes later, he pulled up in front of her house again. In normal circumstances, he’d bring her a bottle of wine or at least flavored condoms, but he didn’t dare leave her alone long enough to retrieve them, just in case.

After a little warning roar, he parked his bike out front and stowed his helmet. He grabbed a few necessities from his saddlebags and headed to her front door, then rang the bell. A long minute passed before she flipped on the porch light and opened the door.

Light from the foyer table off to her right spilled around her dark hair. Her skin looked smooth and ivory, untouched by the sun and devoid of makeup. Her brown eyes were wide and a bit wary, framed by thick black lashes. She’d slicked a little gloss over her plump lips, and he couldn’t wait to get them under his again.

Rachel stepped back to admit him. “Hi. You were quick.”

“I was motivated.” He stepped in, then shut and locked the door behind him with a smile.

She wore a short, silky robe in white with tiny pink flowers on it. Decker didn’t know much about women’s clothes, but he was pretty sure she couldn’t have on much under that. Her pert nipples beaded the front. If he did this right, he could have her naked and flat on her back in five minutes.

With a nervous smile, she backed across the foyer. “Coffee?”

“I didn’t come here for anything you could whip up in the kitchen, beautiful. But if you need a minute to take a deep breath and get your head together, I’ll be patient.”

She let out a shaky breath. “Sorry. I’ve never done this, invited a man I barely know over to . . .”

“Do naughty things designed to make your heart race and your throat raw from screaming?”

The sweetest little blush crept up her cheeks. “That’s one way of putting it. But it’s . . . um, never been like that for me.”

Decker frowned. The last thing he really wanted to do now was talk about her bedroom gymnastics with the ex, especially when he felt sure there was a whole naked wonderland under that robe waiting just for him. Sadly, she’d given him an opening, and this might be the only time to gracefully dig information out of her about Owen. He had to nail down a better motive . . . or see if he could take the douche off his suspect list. It was possible that someone else had it in for her, though he couldn’t fathom why given how sweet she was. And she wasn’t going to relax until she felt more comfortable with him. Her lack of experience, while weirdly endearing, was a hindrance.

He grabbed her hand and led her from the foyer, through the kitchen, then down a couple of steps into a sunken living room area that he could finally take the time to observe since he wasn’t focused on finding clues. Easing back into the beige velvet sofa, he glanced over the patterned rugs and mirrored accents that gave the room with the yellow-cream walls a light feel. Built-in shelves overflowed with books of all kinds, along with more pictures and tchotchkes. Shimmery drapes, the same tone as the walls, covered big windows that overlooked the oasis he’d seen out back earlier. Overall, the place was light, happy, homey—somewhat like her.

The few places he’d called “home” over the years had been mostly shitholes, barracks, or transient motels. He’d usually gone wherever duty called, without any thought to putting down roots or building a future, but now . . . Xander and Javier had obviously planted themselves in Lafayette to play house with London, so he suspected he was here for the duration. Other than the humidity in the summer, here actually wasn’t bad. He’d grown used to the freeways and skyscrapers of Los Angeles over the last few years, but Decker was thinking that he could kind of get used to a place like this, even having a home for once. The faint scent of vanilla lingered, like Rachel had baked or burned candles or something equally feminine. He liked it.

He liked her.

With a tug on her hand, Decker prevented her from sitting beside him. Instead, he pulled her onto his lap. She wriggled, as if trying to find a comfortable spot. Her lush ass rooting around on his cock nearly had him groaning and tearing into her clothes like a beast, but he managed to refrain.

“I can’t wait to get this robe off of you and do things to your delectable body that are probably only legal in foreign countries.” Decker winked, then stroked his knuckles along her exposed skin beside the lapel of her robe, over the swell of her breast. “But when you tell me it’s never been really good for you, I want to know what disappointed you in the past. Tell me about the last time you had sex.”

THREE

RACHEL’S BIG, DARK EYES WIDENED WITH SHOCK, AND SHE shook her head. “I’d rather not. You’re going to let me ‘steer,’ so it won’t be an issue.”

As she moved in to kiss him, Decker turned his head just enough to graze the soft skin of her neck with his lips, then he rested them on her lobe. “Even so, you need to give me a little information so I understand what you don’t like.”

She eased back and met his stare, then tried to wriggle off his lap. He tightened his arms around her, and finally, she sighed.

“It was with my ex-husband,” she murmured, looking away. “Owen was always just so . . . serious. I don’t know how to put it. It seemed like something he tolerated more than loved.”

“Which made you feel somehow responsible, so you didn’t enjoy it either?”

Her gaze bounced back up to his, as if he’d surprised her with his perception. It didn’t take a rocket scientist . . . but that deduction was apparently beyond a physicist. Go figure.

“Yes.” She nodded, and he saw a sweet little flush spread across her cheeks. “He didn’t ever want to talk about it.”

Then Owen deserved lousy sex. Dumbass. “Anything else?”

“It’s water under the bridge.” She squirmed uncomfortably.

“I don’t think so. Your last time in the sack sucked. Communication is key. We’ve got to have some if you want me to give you a better time. Besides, how are you going to tell me what you want when we’re naked if you can’t say it now?”

She chewed on that plump little lip for a moment. “All right. I don’t think he knew where I was . . . um, sensitive.”

That didn’t surprise Decker, but he had to rein in a laugh at her delicate phrasing. “You mean he didn’t have a clue where your clit was and you wished like hell he did?”

Her blush deepened. “Are you always this direct?”

“I don’t see any sense in beating around the bush.” He grinned. “Especially yours. It sounds like you’d be pretty happy if I could shake it once or twice.”

Though her jaw dropped and she smacked his shoulder, she was smiling. “That’s crude!”

“But honest. How was the rest of your relationship?”

“Well, not too good or we wouldn’t be divorced.”

Oh, sass. How much fun would it be to silence her bratty mouth with a kiss that made her toes curl before he turned her into a pile of goo? “Are you two still civil or did it end too ugly?”

“It’s mostly polite. Owen sometimes loses his temper. I just ignore him.”

And that might really be pissing the ex off. Definitely, he wanted to keep digging here, but couldn’t go too deep now without making her suspicious. When he got a free moment, he’d look up the asswipe and see if his face matched the guy who’d solicited him to commit murder. Until then, he had to tread lightly with the questions about her ex—except sexually. Rachel hid a wealth of repressed desire.

“Did he ever do anything in bed that you liked?”

“Not really. You’re probably wondering why I married him. My friends back in Florida, where I’m from, asked me that all the time. Owen is eight years older than me, and at first I liked how knowledgeable he seemed, but that didn’t extend to sex. It took me years to realize that he liked to hear himself talk more than listen. When the topic was something he couldn’t pontificate about, he changed it.” She cocked her head and stared. “Do you psychoanalyze every woman before you sleep with her?”

Decker figured that was his cue to shut up. “You said you want a man who listens. I’m trying. How do you think I can give you what you want if I don’t understand you even a little? Do you know what you want?”

Rachel reared back. A million thoughts flitted across her face. She looked angry, then sad, then downright confused. Decker held her tighter. She didn’t have a clue what her true desires were, but he’d show her as soon as she got over this ridiculous notion of being in charge.

“It’s orgasm. It shouldn’t be this difficult.”

Was she saying that a man had never given her one? The idea of being the first to succeed damn near made him salivate. Yes, it was probably stupid and unnecessarily territorial, but attraction wasn’t logical. And he didn’t think it was logic she needed as much as a hot, ripe, raunchy fucking. And then to be held.

He smiled. “That depends on you. If you really know what flips your switch and can express it clearly, we’ve got no worries. If you don’t, you may not enjoy sex with anyone until you figure it out.”

“What about you?” she challenged. “You seem like you don’t have any problems just . . . blurting what you want.”

He didn’t blurt, just usually commanded. That wasn’t relevant to the conversation now. She was getting worked up and worried. Time to calm her down.

Brushing his knuckles over the soft swell of her breast again, he watched with satisfaction as goose bumps raised on her arms and legs. “Men are simple. We’re almost always ready. We don’t have swells and folds. Our most sensitive nerve endings aren’t hidden. You pay attention to a guy’s cock, and I guarantee he’s going to like it.”

Rachel pressed her lips together and tried not to giggle, but she failed. “The way you put things . . . My mama would positively expire.”

Decker grinned at her sweet, if exaggerated, Southern accent. “I’m not interested in your mama.”

She smiled but didn’t quite meet his gaze. “Kiss me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” That was one demand he didn’t mind giving in to.

• • •

DECKER BARELY PUT his hands on her, and she began to tremble. Everything about him was so strong and masculine and called to the female inside her. Nestled on his lap, she sat just a tad shorter than him. And his wide shoulders made her sigh. He seemed to surround her, make her feel delicate. Though she’d tried so hard to be independent and stand on her own two feet since the divorce, Rachel admitted that she liked feeling tiny in his arms. She wasn’t sure what she’d done to snag his attention, but she would just be grateful to spend the night of her birthday with someone as gorgeous as him and hope there was an orgasm or two in her future. He looked more than capable.

His rough hand gently cradled the crown of her head, strong fingers burrowing into the strands of her hair. With a little tug, he tilted her head back. His mouth hung a breath over hers. She blinked up at him, pulled into his hungry blue eyes with their thick fringe of black lashes. What would his lips feel like on her skin? What would those brawny hands do to her body?

“Tell me how you want me to kiss you,” he whispered.

Rachel frowned. She had to explain it?

“Passionately.”

“Slow? Fast? Deep? Teasing?” he challenged. “You want me to seduce or tongue-fuck that pretty mouth?”

Her stomach clenched. Her sex pulsed. His words alone aroused her.

She gripped his big shoulders, her breath coming fast. “All of it.”

A knowing smile spread across his face. “What do you want after that, beautiful? If you had to spell it out in excruciating detail, tell me what you’d say?”

Mind racing, she stared at him. Mercy, she’d assumed she had a hundred ideas, but when she tried to imagine perfect lovemaking . . . she just pictured herself writhing in ecstasy under him. That wasn’t very specific, and sort of proved his point. She’d read hundreds of fabulous descriptions of earth-shattering sex, but she didn’t know exactly what would feel good to her. Still, she wasn’t ready to put the control of her pleasure in another man’s hands, even if he seemed more competent than Owen, not until she’d explored and gained some confidence.

“Can we experiment?”

He shrugged. “Sure. So you want to start with that kiss now?”

Decker was teasing her, dragging it out, making her wait. She wriggled on his lap, seeking relief for the sweet pressure building between her legs. “Yes.”

His grip in her hair tightened. He readjusted her body so that she straddled his hips. Then he swooped down, his mouth covering hers, at the same time he wrapped his free arm around her waist and jerked her flush against him. Rachel had no idea how many teeth were actually in his zipper. But when his steely erection rubbed against her tender folds, sending tingles scattering through her, she had no trouble believing that it caged a hungry beast.

As he nudged her lips apart, Decker swept inside like he knew exactly how to make a woman moan. He ravished her mouth as if she made him desperate. A passionate moan escaped her throat, and he greedily swallowed the sound. Heat rolled through her body, into her peaking nipples, drifting right between her legs, as he moaned and crushed her against him.

With a twist of his fingers, he forced her to slant her head so he could sink deeper into the kiss. She should protest at the way he was taking over. But all those BDSM romances on her e-reader had introduced her to the idea of a very alpha male—something Owen would never be. Those Dominant men very nearly read a woman’s mind so that they could unravel her and give her the ultimate pleasure. She’d assumed that was just fiction. But the way Decker took her mouth, prowling every recess, tasting and luring her closer only to pull back, nip at her lips, pause and stare, then kiss her again like he couldn’t stand a moment of separation between them made her rethink her assumptions.

They shared breaths. She tasted the spicy flavor of Decker’s kiss. Instead of sating her, she only craved more. The way his mouth took hers . . . It was as if he owned her. Why did she like that idea so much? They were strangers, and he’d probably be gone in a few hours. Tonight was just a fantasy.

“God, you taste so fucking sweet. I want to devour all of you, but I can’t stand to stop kissing you. Jesus . . .”

A thrill of feminine pride filled her. She’d never really been truly wanted. Owen hadn’t been demonstrative. He hadn’t really even liked kissing. Too many germs. Sure she’d had a few dates in high school, but they’d been with boys. Decker was a man.

Rachel felt herself melting into him, wanting just a few moments of his strong, sure embrace. With every breathless kiss, their lips met more urgently. Dizzying arousal swam headily through her veins like a drug he used to keep her lips his captive. The liquid pleasure spread, and it overtook through her veins. He was everything she’d ached for—and more.

“I want this damn robe off,” he growled against her lips before he seized them again, plundering deep. He gave her only a moment’s respite to process his words before he eased back with another snarl. “Now, Rachel. I want to see your pretty nipples. I want them in my mouth. I want them hard on my tongue. They’re mine tonight, and you’re going to give them to me.”

With his gruff demand, her stomach plunged to her toes. The stiff points tightened, and she could feel them chafing against the silk as if pointing their way to Decker. In that moment, she wanted to give in so, so badly. Could he feel how damp her panties were?

Even if he could, she still had to be responsible for her own pleasure. Sure, she could let him do what he liked. She’d probably even love it. Likely, there would be multiple orgasms in her future. But wanting to explore sex wasn’t just about reaching nirvana. It also meant growing her confidence and figuring out who she was sexually. At twenty-nine, she didn’t know what made her blood sing or what made her feel most like a woman. She also didn’t know much about giving pleasure. Owen hadn’t been big into foreplay.

“Eventually, I will,” she promised, blinking up at him. “But I’m in control, remember? You promised.”

His eyes narrowed, and his fingers tightened in her hair. The hunger in his eyes gnawed at her composure. Everything about that look made her want to rip off her robe and offer herself up to him.

“All right. What do you want, beautiful?”

“You naked. Let me look at you,” she whispered. Though she couldn’t wait to see him, Rachel wished her answer sounded more certain. Why couldn’t she be more vixen and less wallflower? And crap, when would she stop blushing?

“All right. I’m all yours.” Decker spread his arms wide like he couldn’t wait to flash her.

This was going to be good.

Rachel unbuttoned his black shirt and peeled away the material clinging to his broad shoulders with strained seams. She shoved it down his arms, revealing biceps that bulged and rippled as he helped her by shrugging out of the garment and tossing it to the floor. His dog tags rattled, then pinged against his hard chest, where he was muscled from the firm pectorals half covered by a patch of dark hair and some sort of military tattoo to the eight-pack of abs that disappeared into low-slung denim.

Her jaw dropped. She almost swore that she could glimpse something shadowy and male just below that black and silver buckle helping his pants cling to his hips.

Decker grinned as he stared back at her with sexual challenge. “You want me more naked than this?”

“Yes.” Please.

“You got it.” He lifted her off his lap, copping a feel of her thigh and trying to brush her robe away.

Rachel wagged a finger at him. “You’re awfully pushy.”

“Probably why I’m in trouble a lot.” He grinned. “But let’s see if I can make you forget that.”

Decker opened his belt buckle with a clink and released every one of the teeth holding back his waiting erection. Then he dropped his pants into a careful puddle on the floor and stood, totally naked.

Holy mother of all that’s . . . whoa! He’d been commando. No pesky underwear to bother with. Just another tattoo that looked like an eagle talon on his hip and inch after imposing inch of his massive erection.

She swallowed.

“If you work for the post office, I’ll let you inspect my package.” He sauntered the two steps back to the sofa and stood over her. “Hell, I might even let you if you don’t.”

The pick-up line barely registered with his thick male flesh bobbing in her face, its big plum head nearly purple. She had to scrape her jaw off the floor when he wrapped his hand around the stiff column and stroked slowly, visually teasing her. So sexy. What would he feel like in her palm? The musky scent of him rising toward her seemed more concentrated and mysterious between his legs. His testicles were big and heavy.

She was desperate to touch him.

After watching the slow, hypnotic motion of his thick fingers sliding up and down his sensitive sex, Rachel ached to do that to Decker and make him feel good.

With a fortifying breath, she forced down her nervousness, shoved his hand out of her way, and gripped the hot, hard stalk of flesh. Her fingers didn’t quite meet when she encircled him. Slowly, she stroked up, swiping her thumb over the head. He clenched his teeth and hissed in a breath, hardening even more in her hand.

A tremor of need shook her. Her folds became more than a little damp.

“Damn, beautiful. That’s so good. Unless you’re looking to finish me off with your hand, I wouldn’t do that for much longer.”

Eventually, she might want that with a lover, but now she wanted to be with Decker more than simply watch him.

“Not what I had in mind.” She shook her head.

“Then what are you going to do with me?”

His words ended with a moan, and the sound went straight between her legs.

Good question. Exactly what did she want? She frowned, coming up blank. The truth was, she didn’t know.

The obvious was to put his big, silky shaft in her mouth and suck. She’d heard men liked that. It sounded exciting . . . a little forbidden—at least to her. She’d never done it. Owen thought fifteen minutes for sex was too long, so they’d never lingered. As much as she wished for the confidence to just wrap her lips around him, she wasn’t the sort to climb all over a guy. And she had no idea what Decker would truly like or enjoy. A vague shame overtook her that she hadn’t asked even once. Sex was supposed to be a two-way street. Hadn’t Owen’s lack of communication taught her that?

“What are your suggestions?” Rachel hoped he had plenty. Clearly, she was clueless and lost now that her big take-charge plan didn’t seem to be working.

“That you let me show you.” When she opened her mouth to argue, he knelt and put a finger to her lips. “I know you want to experience new things. I’m guessing you haven’t had many lovers.”

“Just Owen.”

Understanding softened his face. Rachel didn’t know how someone so angular and male could look so gentle.

“How are you supposed to know what turns you on most if you’ve never experienced it? We’ll still experiment, but let’s turn this around. Give me control. If you don’t like something, you just tell me. We’ll try something else.”

“But I let Owen control everything, and it was a disaster.”

“I’m not your ex-idiot.”

No, but . . . “I can’t be upset that sex is never what I want if I don’t play an active role.”

“You will, and it’s hot that you want to. But to start, I think your active role should be to tell me what you like. For instance, you can tell me if you’d rather have your nipples caressed, pinched, or something else. Maybe you’re not even sensitive there, but we’ll find out. Then you can tell me if you like my mouth on your pussy, if you like to be kissed while I fuck you, or if you enjoy bondage.”

Rachel felt her eyes widen. And her body begin to overheat.

“Yes, we’re going to do all that and more.” He cupped her thigh. “You’re assuming I’m as inept as Owen. I promise, beautiful, that I won’t let you down. I know we just met a few hours ago, but I’m about to become your lover. If we’re going to make that work, you’ve got to trust me with your body or this is going nowhere.”

A really good point . . .

“It’s not that I don’t trust you.”

“Oh?” He grinned. “Well, if it’s not that, then you’re just naturally a control freak?”

She felt heat flood her cheeks. “I’ll . . . um, plead the fifth.”

With a lopsided smile, he stood, unfolding every inch of that mouthwateringly male body. The slightest inhalation made his abs ripple. His biceps flexed when he held out his hand to her. “Come with me.”

How the devil was she supposed to say no to that?

Rachel put her hand in his, and he squeezed it. “Lead the way.” Show me what to do.

He hesitated. “Is your bedroom down the hall?”

“Yes.” She smiled faintly. “I actually feel so comfortable with you that I’d forgotten you don’t know where anything is. Come with me, then you can take over.”

Decker linked their fingers, then bent to scoop up his pants. She led him past the darkened rooms lining the hallway, then into her shadowy bedroom. She debated flipping on the lamp sitting on her nightstand. Did he want to see her? Would he rather be in the dark?

“You’re thinking and not communicating,” he pointed out as he set the jeans aside and drew her into his arms, against him.

“One of the perils of being a teacher. I can’t say everything I think in a classroom.”

“I’ll bet.” He kissed her nose playfully, then her cheek, moving toward her ear. “Trust, remember?”

“Yeah. Got it.”

“You’re nervous.”

Why deny the obvious? “It’s been almost two years, since just before Owen and I separated.”

“A beautiful woman should be pleasured well and often. But I don’t think that’s the only issue. I make you nervous.”

He didn’t ask; he knew. “There were prettier girls at the bar.”

“No.” He shook his head. “There were easier girls at the bar. When you’re twenty-one, yeah, that’s great. A few drinks, a joke or two, and you’ll probably get lucky. By the time a guy is thirty, he’s looking for some substance along with a girl’s great rack. By then, he’s figured out that he likes a little conversation afterward, too.”

Rachel rolled her eyes, but felt a smile crease her face. “So how old are you?”

“Old enough to enjoy talking to you,” he drawled, nipping at her earlobe. “Later . . .”

Which probably meant he was over thirty. If not, he’d be with someone named Barbie or Tawny having much less conversation. But the answer didn’t really matter now, especially not when he brushed his lips over her throat. Goodness, that sent an electric shiver through her body.

“I don’t know anything about you,” she protested.

“Do you want to know my date of birth and blood type or do you want to know what I feel like when I’m fucking my way deep inside your aching pussy?”

FOUR

DECKER’S QUESTION TURNED HER SHIVER INTO A SHUDDER. Rachel’s breath caught. Heat slid through her. Blood rushed to her nipples. “Th-the latter.”

“That’s what I thought. We’ll talk soon about why you seem to want to analyze everything. It’s chemistry, beautiful. Let it burn.” He curled his fingers around the belt of her little silk robe and tugged. “Now I want to see those hard nipples all naked and ready for my mouth. Drop the robe.”

A thrill curled through her belly, even as hesitation strangled it. She ached to be everything he wanted. She wished she could be wanton enough to just enjoy the moment. But . . .

“What is it? Talk to me.” He cupped her cheek.

“I’m . . . lost. Owen never liked to be totally naked for sex. Too earthy for him.”

“What? Did he actually like sex?”

She shrugged. “Since he always had orgasms, I assumed he had a good time.”

“I’m not so sure.” He scoffed.

“Owen always wanted me to shower first, then come to bed dressed in something like this.” Rachel tugged on her robe.

Decker snorted. “Then he told you to get in bed, climbed on top of you in the dark, and the sex was over in three minutes before he told you to shower again and come to bed? A week or two later, he’d repeat the process?”

She gaped at him. “How did you guess?”

“I’m getting a picture here. No wonder you’re repressed and confused if you’ve never known anything else. What a douche bag.”

“He’s just . . . His brain revolves around science. He’s not really into ‘typical’ stuff. He hates TV, cocktail parties, shopping. He thinks romance is trite and—”

“Sex is a bodily function that should be performed in the minimum amount of time?”

“Something like that.”

“Then he didn’t care about your feelings.” Decker pressed flush against her, his erection a thick ridge prodding her belly, and took her face in his hands. “I’m going to show you how it should be. I’m not going to put my cock anywhere near your pussy until you’re dripping wet and beyond ready. That’s a promise.”

His wicked words made her fluttery inside, like a horde of butterflies were break dancing. “Thank you for understanding. Most guys would have given up long ago, I’ll bet.”

He stroked her cheek. “It’s just you and me. I don’t care what any other guy would do, especially Owen. So if you’re ready to move on and have sex instead of talking . . .”

As Decker yanked at the belt of her robe, she looked up at him through the shadows, then over at the little lamp on her nightstand.

He planted a hand in her hair and tugged. “Focus on me. If I want the lamp on, I’ll take care of it. Right now, I don’t give a damn about the setting. I care about pleasing you. I can’t do it if you’re half clothed and overthinking. You’re nervous. You don’t know me well. You’ve never done this with anyone who knows how to make you feel good. You’re having a hard time letting go. I get all that. But you’ve got to let me try.”

Rachel squeezed her eyes shut. Decker was utterly, totally right. She had to get out of her head and stop thinking about what she was used to. He’d shown her in every way that he wanted to be here with her, and had the experience and patience to give her pleasure.

With a nod, she shoved the lid on all her insecurities and worked the knot of her belt loose. She parted the silk a sliver, watching Decker watch her. He looked so sexy—intent male ready to conquer. His desire wrapped around her and caressed her skin. Her breath came hard, fast.

She peeled the robe from her shoulders. With only a whisper of sound, it slithered to the carpet beneath her feet. She stood before a man she hadn’t known when she’d eaten dinner tonight, wearing nothing more than a tiny pair of black panties. Only very damp lace separated him from her secret flesh. He stared, his blue eyes darkening with hunger in the shadowed room. A shiver of thrill went through her when she thought about his reaction to what he hadn’t yet seen.

“Fuck,” he muttered, lifting his hand to her. “You’re beyond beautiful.”

“Really?”

Shut up! Rachel cursed her own uncertainty. Owen had called her chubby and chided her for her love of Italian food and an occasional piece of chocolate. Decker seemed to like the way she was put together. His warm fingers cradled her breast, his thumb brushing so close to her nipple . . . She dragged in a shuddering breath as heat burned through her.

“Gorgeous. Voluptuous.” He bent and nuzzled her neck, pressing his lips to her. “So innocent looking. Every time you bat your lashes at me, I get hard. When I feel you tremble in my arms, it takes everything I have not to toss you to the bed and have my wicked way with you.”

His fingers tightened just a fraction on her breast before he cursed softly. Then he gripped her neck and positioned her directly under him as his lips crashed over hers. The sensation jolted her, an immediate zing of desire. Rachel melted against Decker and opened to him entirely, meeting every possessive thrust and teasing retreat. She whimpered into his kiss, wrapped her arms around his neck, all but purring at the feel of his hot skin plastered against her.

Then he backed her toward the bed, his persistent kiss flavored with impatience and demand. Already, he was unraveling her. Less than thirty seconds and Rachel felt herself turning to putty.

Arousal. She’d read about it, even felt little tremors of it when she self-pleasured. But Decker was unleashing an earthquake of need inside her. It was rocking her every notion about sex, along with her world.

He helped her onto the bed, his mouth still on hers as he crawled after her. His huge, hard body covered her own, blasting heat through her as he gently abraded her nipples with the fine hair across his chest. More dusted his legs, and as he pressed them against her inner thighs to open her wide for his invasion, the sensation was so foreign . . . amazing. Her vocabulary was almost inadequate to describe the awakening of every nerve and cell in her body, the tingling of her skin, the pounding of her heart, the rightness flowing through her body.

A year shy of thirty, and she’d never quite understood what it meant to be a woman taken by a man. As Decker ravaged her lips with yet another deep kiss, taking everything she gave while plying her with more pleasure, she began to grasp the concept. Pure sensation wrapped her up—and finally she comprehended just how two lovers shared sex. Heartbeats and breaths mingled as they touched palm-to-palm. They exchanged an entire wealth of longing with a stare, without uttering a word. And that was before they joined bodies.

How was it possible that she felt closer and more in tune with the stranger she’d met hours ago than the man she’d been married to for nearly four years?

Rachel didn’t know, but she was done questioning it. She bent her knees around his hips, letting him deeper into the cradle of her body, and held on for dear life as a joy way beyond pleasure flowed through her.

Decker’s rough palms skimmed down her side, anchoring his hand on her hip. “I want inside you so bad. But I want to show you what you’ve been missing more.”

She had almost no time to process what those shiver-worthy words meant before he worked his way down her body. His mouth hovered just above her nipples, his hot breath caressing them. The blood strained into the hard tips until they felt tight and tingly.

“Tell me what feels good so I can send you soaring.”

She gave him a shaky nod, raking her fingers through the inky strands of his dark hair. “All right.”

He didn’t waste any more time or words. Instead, Decker just fastened his lips around her left nipple. Soft, slow, sleek . . . the touch was part exploration, part torment. Rachel arched up into his mouth with a little cry of need.

“You like that?”

“Hmm . . . yes.”

Her hips moved restlessly, and she filtered her fingers through his hair again, reveling in its softness and wishing it was long enough to wrap in her fist and make him taste her nipple once more. Thankfully, she didn’t have to prompt him again to pay attention to her breasts. He lapped at their tips, nipped, teased . . . tormented. Every lick and suck became its own form of torture. Ecstasy. Agony. A need for more burst through her, igniting her blood.

Decker eased back for a moment and stared at her nipples unabashedly. Under his scrutiny, they seemed to fill and tighten even more, as if eager to display themselves for him.

“So damn pretty,” he whispered over the distended peak, thumbing the other. “So lush.”

Rachel whimpered. So ready for more . . .

“You feel it, don’t you?”

She nodded frantically.

“You’re wet for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Almost embarrassingly so.

A smile creased his face. He turned to rub his whiskered cheek against her swelling breast, her sensitive nipple. The scratchy-soft abrasion added another level of sensation, and she arched, grabbing at him.

“Sensitive.” His voice rang with approval.

“I never thought so. I mean, I’ve never . . .”

“Responded to having your nipples stimulated?”

She frowned until he set his mouth over them again. “No one’s ever really touched . . . I can’t think when you do that.”

“Good. Just feel. I want you to let me have my fill of your nipples. I want you to get so wet for me that when I put my mouth on your pussy, I’ll have a feast that will take me a long time to devour. I want you so close, ready, and eager that when I start fucking you, you won’t be able to stop screaming.”

His words alone took her desire higher. The tight beat of need under her clit became an incessant throb. A few hours ago, she would have doubted that he—or anyone else—could make her feel this way. But Decker, whose last name she hadn’t even asked, knew exactly how to give her body everything she’d ever fantasized about.

She was going to end her birthday a really happy woman.

“Hurry!” she panted.

But he took his sweet time tonguing his way around her areola, then brushing his fingers over the damp flesh. He came closer and closer to the aching tips until he finally sucked them in deep. The sensation darted straight between her legs again and again like a live wire. She shuddered in his arms with the jolt of desire.

“Hurrying defeats the purpose, and you’re not making the demands here. You’re lying back and taking everything I give you and waiting eagerly for more.”

Holding in a whimper, Rachel stared up at him, blinking, breathless . . . captivated. Everything about his strong face and the desire tightening it screamed powerful male. Beyond aroused now, she ached to feel Decker deep inside her.

His bare hands gripped her hips with possessive fervor and seared her flesh. She sighed raggedly and closed her eyes, basking in the sensations piling on top of her, one after the other, until she swore she was about to combust. Or beg. This much pleasure was beyond her experience or comprehension, and she didn’t for one moment believe she’d handled all he could dish out.

A hot flush rolled through her body. Rachel breathed in the musky scent of his skin and couldn’t look away from his cocky smile, complete with a flash of white teeth that she found beyond sexy. She dug her fingers into his shoulders and lifted her hips to him, willing him to ease the empty ache coiling between her restless legs.

“You look good all flushed and sweet. Innocent.” He breathed over her nipples, still toying, arousing, owning them. “I’ll fix that.”

Rachel assumed he was kidding, but Decker didn’t smile or wink. Mercy . . . Remembering the feel of him, steely and sizzling in her palm, made her skin tingle with anticipation as she imagined just exactly how good he would feel stretching and filling her—helping her finally understand the give and take of lovers straining for the common purpose of sharing wrenching, clawing pleasure.

“Please . . .”

“Ah, begging. Always sweet, but especially tempting coming from you. I think I’m going to want more. Let me see what I can do.” His smile was predatory and pleased, but somehow still set her at ease. “Take off the panties.”

Rachel wanted to—really. Once she did, she’d be one step closer to fulfillment. But she had a surprise . . .

“Let me up for one second. I want to show you something.”

Decker hesitated. He didn’t want to. As easygoing as he’d been at the bar, that was how forceful he seemed now. And she might be in over her head, but that didn’t stop Rachel from wanting him.

“A second, no longer.” He eased off the bed with obvious reluctance. His hands didn’t leave her bare skin until he stood too far away to touch her.

Scooting off the bed, she brushed past him with a pounding heart, full of yearning and apprehension.

Finally, Rachel inched past him just far enough for him to view her backside, then glanced over her shoulder at him, only to find his stare glued to her butt.

“Holy shit,” he muttered. “That’s gorgeous.”

Remembering the big, silky black bow that played peekaboo with her pale cheeks, she smiled. His approval spiked bliss inside her. She’d always liked helping and doing for others, but this . . . was different. This sense of thrill was more personal.

Of course when she’d bought these panties from a catalog about six months ago, she’d been pretty sure that madness had finally overtaken her. Now she was glad she’d succumbed to the impulse. His bulging stare and damn near speechless reaction felt so sweetly fabulous.

“Do you want to unwrap me?” Rachel whispered, watching him from under lowered lashes as she wiggled her hips just slightly.

He cocked a dark brow and dragged his gaze to her face. “If I tug on this ribbon, these will come off?”

That possibility obviously excited him. Impatience pinged off of him—and boosted her confidence.

With a coy look, she batted her lashes. “Why don’t you find out?”

Anchoring a hand on her thigh, Decker stepped up behind her, his hot breath on her neck. With the other hand, he grabbed one of the floppy bow’s loose ends and gave a little tug. It unraveled, and the silken material slipped to hang low on her hips. With big hands, he tugged the panties down her thighs, leaving them both as naked as the day they’d been born.

With a moan of appreciation, Decker palmed her backside, his lips sliding over her shoulder. With his big body pumping out heat like a furnace, he chased away the slight chill in the room and suffused her with warmth. She tossed her head back to rest on the hard bulge of his shoulder, her hair sliding over his skin erotically.

He bit into her lobe. “You’re teasing me, beautiful.”

“Is that going to get me in trouble?” Where was this inner vixen coming from? It was as if knowing that she truly aroused him had allowed her to relax and engage in the sort of banter that often shaped her fantasies. He seemed more than willing to play along.

“No,” he murmured in her ear. “It’s going to get you fucked. Long and hard and relentlessly.”

Good gravy. As dirty as his words were, they sounded not just sexual, but seductive. Decker wouldn’t be mechanical. He wouldn’t be merely willing—but happy—to do whatever made her come apart for him. Rachel couldn’t find words to reply, so she just whimpered.

“Now.” Decker bent and lifted her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. She shrieked. He tossed her onto the bed, then followed her down as she bounced on the mattress. He flattened her with his body, covering her completely as he dragged her mouth under his and claimed it with a wild kiss that left her hot and gasping under him.

This was what she’d always envisioned—racing hearts, desire, earnest need, the anticipation of pleasure so explosive . . .

Raising up on his haunches for a long moment, Decker took in the sight of her naked and flushed. “Damn, you’re more lush and gorgeous than I imagined.”

The appreciation on his face spoke a million praises. Unlike Owen, he was here not because sex was one of those tiresome marital exchanges he had to contend with. Decker was here because he wanted to be. Because he wanted her.

The hunger in his eyes made her nipples harden again. Her skin tingled as she waited impatiently to feel his hands all over her again, his thick erection buried deep within her.

“You imagined me?”

“Looking across the bar at you, yeah. I couldn’t wait to see these.” He cupped her breasts. “Get my mouth on them.”

Then he was tasting her nipples again. A lick, a nip, a strong suck, and she moaned. Goodness, what he could do with his mouth . . . That direct line of sensation pulsed between her breasts and her slick female flesh below, and she writhed impatiently.

“But now . . .” He pinned her with a hot blue stare that made her quake. “I’m trying to decide how to make you come first. So many choices, and we’ll get to them all eventually. Should I start with my fingers?”

Decker rolled slightly away and used one of his legs to pull hers apart. Then he stared straight down at her sex, now wet and pouting and aching. Automatically, she reached down to cover herself. Owen had said that vaginas were messy and unpleasant to look at, so she’d always kept hers shielded from him with a robe or flowing nightie.

Covering herself only seemed to displease Decker. He manacled her wrists in his grip and transferred them to one big hand before he pinned them to the bed above her head. “Don’t move.”

Rachel pressed against his hold experimentally. It was solid. She wasn’t getting up until he let her. That should probably have alarmed her, but the ease with which he restrained her in his grip reminded her how small she was compared with him, almost helpless. That wasn’t a feeling she liked in any other area of her life, but under Decker as he touched her . . . Everything about the moment was sublimely erotic.

With her hands trapped, cool air blew across her slick folds. She shivered. “You w-want to look at me?”

“Damn straight. Tonight, that’s my pussy. I’m going to look at it, touch it, taste it . . . violate it in every way I can think of.”

She blushed, the words coming from Decker’s mouth rousing a tight heat inside her. Then nothing else mattered when he lowered his free hand between her legs, parted her folds with expert fingers, and dragged two of them directly over her most sensitive flesh. Pleasure tingled and burned from that spot, radiating outward for a glorious moment.

She writhed, moaned, all but begging without words.

“Like that?” he whispered against the side of her breast before he kissed the swell of flesh again, then took her turgid nipple in his mouth once more, sucking it to the roof.

“Yes!” she shrieked.

“You won’t try to keep me from your sweet pussy, will you?”

Though he phrased his words like a question, Rachel knew quite well that it wasn’t. She looked up at him, licking her lips and parting them, anticipation amping her up. “No.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear.”

With one hand, he pinned her to the bed, with the other, he plumped and pinched her clitoris, so throbbing and hungry for his touch. In between, he worked his voracious mouth over her nipple. Blood raced through her body. Pleasure climbed inside her. Her senses awakened to him, so attuned. She craved more of the rough feel of his fingers, the scent of his mysterious musk rising between them, his demanding stare promising her more.

“Now. Please now.” Rachel didn’t care if she was pleading.

“I’m still debating the best way to give you your first orgasm. Doing it with my fingers is fun and easy.” He toyed with the little pink pearl of nerves, a slow, circular drag of his fingertips over and over. “I can feel you hardening and swelling for me. Your body is tensing. I have total control of your reactions, and you look so fucking sexy flushing and begging. That prim exterior is gone, and the woman underneath . . . no other man has ever seen her. She’s mine.”

Rachel knew they were probably nothing more than pretty words, but she appreciated them—except that every moment he talked, he prolonged her torment. But nothing would make him move faster. Something about being utterly at his mercy made her need burn even hotter. She bit her lip.

Decker gave her a long, slow smile. “You’re getting close, aren’t you?

She nodded frantically.

“Fighting the urge to beg?”

Rachel nodded again. But not begging wasn’t working, so she gave up. “I don’t care how you do it, just please . . .”

“I care.”

Decker whispered those words against her lips. Then he took her mouth in another long kiss of wrenching desire that made her dizzy and hot. She tried to curl her arms around him, but he held her hands firmly pinned to the bed.

He began her suffering again, his fingertips fondling her clitoris in long, unhurried drags. Her sizzling, slick nerves ignited. Pleasure coiled. Breathing took a backseat to anticipating his next touch. The need swelled to something far bigger and better than she’d ever given herself. Rachel writhed. So close . . .

“You like my fingers?” he baited.

“Yes.” The breathy cry sounded an awful lot like a plea.

“I think you’ll like this even more.”

He prowled down the length of her body, his lips grazing her abdomen and laving her hip, before he settled between her thighs. With big palms, he pushed her legs wider apart. Then, with a deep breath, he inhaled. His eyes closed as if savoring her scent. His hot blue stare zipped up her body and captured her gaze. The electric arc between them was like a shockwave to her chest. She gasped.

Impatiently, Decker lowered his head toward her drenched folds. Rachel felt her eyes go saucer round. Would he? Sure, he’d talked about it, but . . .

Decker fell hungrily on her pouting, aching sex. He lapped at her clit with his tongue. Oh goodness, he would. She couldn’t decide whether to squirm out of her skin or simply melt. She’d never even imagined anything like the hot, wet oven of his mouth. He sucked her in, gently grazing her sensitive tip with his tongue, then his teeth, lavishing her. Devouring her.

As she thrashed on the bed, a cry trapped at the back of her throat sprang free and echoed off the walls. The muscles in her thighs stiffened. The rest of her body followed. The precipice of pleasure rushed up to her. She could see right over the edge. Decker dangled her there—a lazy swipe of his tongue here, a starved suckling there. A frustrating nip at her inner thighs and a long, heated glance up her body later, she nearly howled with demand.

But he seemed to know exactly what she wanted and delighted in making her ache.

“Do you want to come like this?” he asked.

Rachel didn’t trust that sly voice. No matter what she said, he was going to do exactly what he wanted. He wouldn’t be cajoled or rushed or persuaded, even if she was about to lose her sanity.

Forget leaving her hands where he’d told her to. She thrust her fingers into the inky softness of his short hair and tried to press his mouth deeper over the heart of her need.

So, of course, Decker pulled away. “Be good or I’ll make you wait for it.”

“No!” she wailed, knowing it wouldn’t do a damn bit of good.

Decker just smiled as he eased off of her and stood at the edge of the bed, staring. “Your pussy looks so pretty when it’s pouting, beautiful.” He licked his lips. “You’re scrumptious.”

“Why are you tormenting me?” she demanded, then bit her lip. Her lack of orgasm for the last decade wasn’t his fault, just the last hour. “What else can I say to convince you?”

“That you need to come?” He shrugged. “I’ll know when it’s time. Now you stay here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

With that, he turned and searched the room. She couldn’t see really well in the darkness, but the backside filling her vision was taut and firm, supported by a pair of thighs that rippled with muscle every time he took a step. Rachel sighed.

She really had hit the jackpot.

Just thinking about what might come next, her entire body throbbed, and a satisfaction that would have been so complete and mind-twisting had been right at hand . . . then he’d left the bed? When he stooped down, Rachel frowned. What was he doing?

She shook her head. He’d be back to her. While she wasn’t usually confident about her sex appeal, one thing she did know? Men couldn’t fake erections, and Decker had been hard since the moment he’d barged through her front door.

Still, he’d left her alone and needy. Wasn’t he due a little teasing?

Smiling, Rachel lowered her hand between her legs, determined to put on a show. But when she dragged her fingers over her clitoris, just like Decker had, she hissed and arched her back. It wouldn’t take much at all to push her over the edge. Another few seconds and . . .

“Fingers out of your pussy.” Decker’s sharp voice resonated through the room as he stood again, fist curled around something. “That orgasm is mine to give you.”

“I wasn’t going to—”

“You say that now, but in thirty seconds? Two minutes? Five?”

Okay, so maybe he had a point. “You’ve left me aching.”

“And I’ll make it better,” he promised, dumping a few condoms on her nightstand.

Decker held up one and tore the foil open with his teeth. He wasted no time rolling it over his huge erection and sliding onto the bed again, right between her legs. Without warning, he scooped her thighs up in his arms, lifted them around his head, and dropped his mouth back to her clit. The intense suction and almost punishing nip made her scream—and her body jolt in a hot-blooded race for satisfaction.

As she flew even closer to blissful explosion than before, a damp sweat covered her body. She strained to get closer, lifting up to the heavenly touch of his tongue. Her breath hitched, then left her lips in a broken cry. Blood zipped by the bucketful south, filling the responsive little nub he played with. Rachel felt herself swelling, the pressure building, the burn scorching. Just another second or two . . .

He eased his lips away.

Before she had time to moan in protest, he trapped her body beneath his own with a growl. The lust in that feral sound nearly undid her. Full staff in hand, he aligned himself against her slick, vulnerable opening, probing, feeding her the head in shallow strokes before backing out to rub her clit with his rigid stalk.

The need to take him deep, feel him stroking her walls, had her tossing her head back, breathing hard, a frantic cry on her lips. “Decker . . .”

“Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

Her blood boiled, burning away any semblance of pride. “Yes. Please. I do. Now.”

“Tell me you want me to fuck you until you can’t take a moment more.”

Even the image had her squirming beneath him and crying out again. “Yes!”

The word hadn’t even finished clearing her lips before he thrust deep inside her. She gasped. Her eyes went wide with panic and pain. She couldn’t take another inch of him.

Stiffening, Rachel tried discreetly to wriggle and displace him, put some distance between them.

“Does that hurt?”

“A little.”

“Shh. Relax.” He grabbed her hips in his hands, easing back. Rachel sighed in relief.

But he wasn’t absent for long. He only put enough distance between them to work a pair of fingers inside her and stretch her. His clever digits found a sensitive spot inside her, and she arched her back, spreading wide for him until she accommodated another finger. Then another.

When she was mewling, Decker withdrew, then nudged his staff against her opening again.

His nostrils flared, his eyes narrowing. “Now you should be more comfortable. Tell me if you’re not, and I’ll work you open slowly. But you won’t get away from me, Rachel.”

As if she wanted to . . .

Then he reared back and thrust into her roughly, deeper, working against the swollen, constricting flesh of her sex. But his fingers had worked some magic. The discomfort was gone.

He groaned. “That’s right. That’s good. Let me in.”

Wasn’t he already in?

Lifting her hips up to him, Decker pressed down into her body with another shallow stroke. Then he withdrew slowly. The friction of his flesh over nerve endings she hadn’t known she possessed caused her to cry out.

“I’m getting deeper, beautiful. Yes . . . You’re so sweet and tight. I’m going to make you come for me. You want that. I want to feel it. Just take all of me.”

She still hadn’t?

Rachel moaned. Decker ground into her clit again with his hard length, then shifted down, rooting at her opening once more. With one heavy push, he grunted, then seared his way into her body, up, up, up, filling every corner and recess of her with his thick possession, stretching her almost beyond her limit.

Mercy . . .

He rubbed a sensitive spot so deep inside her that Rachel felt herself swell even more. He drew back and kindled all those nerves again. And again. The flames licking her body turned incendiary. She bucked under him, cried out for him, clenched her fists and begged. His bared teeth and determined face told her that nothing would stop him from giving this pleasure to her.

Holy cow! Rachel had known he would be every bit as good as her fantasies, but never had she imagined this sort of ecstasy.

Relentlessly, he pushed in and out of her, hitting that spot so deep and shocking with every last plunge. She closed her eyes, struggling to breathe. Her thighs tightened. She wanted her arms around him, but he held her pinned to the bed and drove into her again and again.

“Open your eyes.”

She squeezed them even more tightly shut, so focused on the sensations that stacked on top of her restraint, crushing it. Her clit burned. He shocked the end of her passage with every forceful thrust.

“Fucking open your eyes and look at me.”

Something about his deep growl forced her to obey. His face hovered just above hers, and he fused their stares together. A jolt, a zing, an electric sizzle—they lit her up. The forces in her body swirled together, spinning faster and faster, taking her down with them like a whirlpool sucking away her ability to breathe, to care about anything but the ecstasy about to sear across her soul.

“Decker,” she whispered almost soundlessly, out of breath.

Using all the power of his muscled arms and thighs, he fucked his way even harder inside her. His stare penetrated deeper. This didn’t feel like a one-night stand. Decker utterly possessed her, from their linked fingers above her head, to their locked stares, all the way to their joined bodies.

The uproar of tingles and aches throbbing with need all compounded to overload her, but they had nothing on the sudden fervor that seized her heart.

All the sensations inside her melded, conjoined, rose dangerously. Then her body combusted. Her sex clamped down on him, womb clenching, as pleasure spilled over in a lush melding of wonder, ecstasy, and thrill.

Above her, Decker pounded into her mercilessly, jaw tensing, eyes raging, breath sawing in and out of his chest with effort, with excitement. He crushed her lips under his own and gripped her hands fiercely. Then his entire body tensed as he submerged himself completely inside her, setting off another storm of astonishing pleasure. As she screamed into his kiss and held on for dear life, Rachel wondered if she’d be able to forget this night or this man—ever.

FIVE

TEN MINUTES LATER, RACHEL WAS CURLED AGAINST HIS SIDE, hand brushing up and down his chest. The room was still mostly dark, broken only by a nightlight coming from the bathroom and a twinkle from the silvery moon streaming through the window. He’d disposed of the condom and caught his breath. Even on the comfy mattress wrapped in soft sheets and what had to be homemade quilts, Decker couldn’t relax. His brain wouldn’t downshift to a gear other than sex. Over and over, one thought plagued his head: What the hell had happened between them?

They hadn’t just fucked. She hadn’t merely been aroused. He hadn’t simply wanted her. What they’d done here had been . . . something more.

That made no fucking sense. He didn’t really know this girl. But the very first time he’d clapped eyes on her picture had been a visceral blow to his chest. Touching her shook him even more. Filling her tight cunt had been absolutely earthshaking. Despite an orgasm that had all but fractured his restraint and sent him rocketing into a pleasure so surreal, he still felt stunned and dazed; he still hadn’t managed to unleash all the lust broiling inside him.

It didn’t add up. She wouldn’t be capable of the same sexual gymnastics as that girl from Moscow. She’d never be as freaky as those twins from Mexico City. She probably didn’t give a mind-bending blow job like the show dancer he’d hooked up with in Rio. But Rachel had something none of those women possessed, a quality he couldn’t put his finger on that made him want to bury his cock inside her again and stay for a sweet long while. She drew him in. He liked her mix of vulnerability and sweet teasing. Her intelligence probably ranked higher than most women he’d taken to bed. The soft chime of her laughter made him smile. She was truly a terrible dancer, but she cared about the people in her life. And she trusted in a way none of the jaded women he’d met could. Hell, more than he ever had. She deserved to be protected, adored, cherished.

How fucking crazy was it that he was wondering if he could be the man for the job?

One thing at a time. First, he had to keep her safe, figure out who wanted her dead, then he could decide if he was actually capable of sharing his picket fence with any woman, let alone this one.

At his side, Rachel sighed, caressing him with a leisurely sweep of her hand up and down his torso. The thought of her drifting off in his arms made him smile. On the corner of the bed, the orange tabby yawned and looked at him like an unwelcome interloper. As far as Decker could tell, the cat had remained planted on his little corner of the mattress the whole time he and Rachel had rocked it. The hairball was seemingly far less annoyed that Decker had violated his mistress than he was about having his nocturnal beauty rest disturbed.

“Meow.” The cat’s tone made it clear he was registering a complaint.

Rachel smiled against Decker’s chest, then propped her chin on him to look at the cat. “Be a nice kitten, Val.”

Kitten? That thing had to weigh fifteen pounds.

“Is he possessive?” Decker sank his fingers into her plush dark hair. It was so fucking soft, not weighed down by a ton of goop or hair spray. It wasn’t coarse, and she didn’t have extensions. It was just naturally beautiful. Kind of like her.

Shit, now he sounded like some sappy jewelry commercial.

“Not really. He’s my cat, for sure. He typically doesn’t like other people. He hated Owen. It was mutual, however. And Owen swore that Florida was a little bit safer when we moved here because I’d removed the ‘beast.’ The fact that Val hasn’t attacked or run off means he’s at least willing to tolerate you. Since he’s a better judge of men than I apparently am, I take it as a good sign.” She flashed a tired but teasing grin in the shadowy room. “Isn’t that right, Valentino?”

Rachel stretched across the bed to pet the little hairball between his perky ears. The move exposed her breasts, and that’s all it took for his cock to go from half-awake to aching for action again. Wincing, he dragged in a calming breath. He had to give her pussy a break after he’d pounded her like a madman. Besides, while she was soft and sweet and sated would be a good time to ask her questions that might help him. Any information would be better than grasping in the dark.

“Valentino?” he asked. “Like the famous actor?”

“Yes. Like his namesake, Val seems to be well liked by the female felines in the neighborhood. The males . . . they turn their tails up at him. Val is also a little bit of a diva and likes his way. That’s a cat thing, but it’s even more of a Val thing. I found him as a stray when he was just a baby kitten. I was married to Owen, and he threw a fit. But I just couldn’t resist Val.”

That soft heart of hers again. Of course she’d take in a little runt with big green eyes that purred and rubbed against her leg. Rachel’s sweetness was part of her charm.

When had he last spent any time with a woman who had this kind of goodness? Probably during the Clinton administration. What did he know about family pets, nice girls, and comfortable beds? Jack squat. He needed to get his head on straight and do the job he’d come to do before he contemplated anything else. But what was there to think about? It wouldn’t be long before Xander and duty called, whisking him away. Rachel needed to fall for a great guy who would be there for her day in, day out. Not one who’d be jaunting off to another continent at a moment’s notice to stop the spread of industrial espionage or whatever shit S.I. Industries faced.

Even with all that running through his head, he couldn’t stop himself from pressing Rachel against him, kissing her forehead, then settling her face onto his shoulder. Her sigh of contentment made him harder.

“So, is Val the only friend who came with you from Florida?”

“Yes. After the divorce, Owen and I had a few ugly fights. My family lived nearby, and he tried to drag them into our dispute once. I didn’t love the principal of the school I worked for, and I couldn’t afford to stay in the house my ex-husband and I had bought together, so I started applying to schools all over the South. Lafayette Parish hired me.”

So if Owen lived in Florida, how could he have been in a bar in Lafayette yesterday, soliciting murder? It was possible. But likely?

But if he ruled the ex out, how many other suspects did he have? Zilch.

“It’s nice that you’ve made some friends here.”

She smiled. “Shonda has been great. I’m so glad that her brother is going to be all right. A couple of broken bones and a mild concussion, but he’ll heal up.”

“Good news.” He paused, brushing his fingers through her silky sable hair again. “You seem like such a kind person. I’ll bet you don’t have any enemies.”

Rachel lifted her head to look down at him and paused. “Not that I know of. I’m generally on better footing with Owen now. My family says he’s got a new girlfriend and that Carly has been good for him. I can’t think of anyone else I’ve exchanged any cross words with.”

“Know if his girlfriend’s jealous of you?”

“Why should she be?” Rachel shrugged. “I’m out of his life and have no interest in returning.”

Even if it didn’t seem likely, the sexually inept ex still remained his only suspect. Not that Decker wouldn’t love to nail his ass to the wall, but he worried that pinning this murder for hire on Owen might be a bit too easy, like saying the butler did it. If the guy lived in Florida, it would be awfully inconvenient to travel to Lafayette simply to solicit a murder. And obvious, too. Then again, maybe he’d simply called a sympathetic friend and convinced him to hire out this dirty work. Hard to know . . . Better to keep digging.

“I’ll bet you’re an expert at handling agitated parents,” he praised. “And your students must love you.”

“I’ve only been teaching here for a few months, but my interactions have been largely positive. Most of my parents are really involved in their kids’ lives, so that makes the partnering great.”

“You haven’t had any trouble with them?”

“No.”

“Like all your new neighbors?”

“The few I know, yeah. It’s a neighborhood of mostly young professionals, so everyone is busy doing their own thing.”

So unless she had some secret or silent hater, had seen something she shouldn’t have, or was the target of some random freak, Decker didn’t have any better suspects than Owen. Damn it, he had to get to a computer and find a picture of the guy, check his current whereabouts, see if that’s who’d plopped his hateful ass down on the barstool beside his and offered him mid-five figures to kill Rachel.

“What about you?” she asked, cutting into his thoughts.

Decker opened his mouth to give her a bullshit reply, but paused. He was already lying to her about his reason for being at that bar, his reason for going home with her, his reason for staying. For some damn reason, he didn’t want to lie about this, too.

“I don’t have many friends beyond Xander and Javier. A few of their local buddies are cool. I’ve spent a lot of time on tours and missions all over the world. A lot of the guys I considered friends didn’t make it home. I’ve got my share of enemies. I’ve got a ruthless streak. If anyone fucks with me or mine, we’re going to have problems.”

Rachel pulled back a bit. He drew her close again and held in a curse.

Oops, probably too much. Likely, he’d scared the hell out of her. He tried to laugh it off and hoped she bought it.

“God, that made me sound like I live in a cave, eat raw game, and beat my chest.”

She giggled, at ease once more. He let out a relieved breath.

“Maybe a little. I was trying to ask you why you’re in Lafayette. Is this a temporary stop?” she asked.

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “That depends some on the Santiago brothers. I’ve been here a few months, and I’ll be here at least another few days. That’s the longest I’ve stayed in one place since I was a kid.”

Her gaze slid away, and he didn’t have to guess that she was telling herself right now not to get attached to him, not to see any sort of future. Normally, he’d applaud that insight. Now, for some reason it absolutely pissed him off.

“But I like Lafayette well enough. Xander and Javier seem really content to cozy up to their new bride and wait for their baby to come. I don’t see them leaving her side anytime soon, and she likes it here, so I might be here a lot longer.”

“So they really share a wife?” she whispered, sounding a bit scandalized.

Crap, he’d seen shit that would shock her to her pretty pink toes. Probably done a few things that would incite the same reaction.

“Yep. They’re fairly open about it among their friends. Her mother wasn’t keen on the idea at first, but she’s come around. You probably would have thought Xander was an ass before London. Javier was a fucking train wreck. They both need her, and she’s got a heart big enough for two.”

“I’ll bet they scandalize their neighbors.”

Since Xander had been really persistent about seducing London in their backyard over the summer, and she and Javier had almost been caught fucking in the car in their driveway a few weeks ago? “No doubt.”

Rachel smiled and braced her chin on his chest again. “You’re easy to talk to.”

“You are, too,” he answered honestly. “Sorry if I got a little, um . . . demanding earlier. I promise I won’t drag you off by your hair—at least not often.”

“Did you hear me complaining?”

“Hmm . . .” He pretended to cock his head in thought. “Unless ‘please, don’t stop’ is some new code for ‘no,’ then I guess not.”

Even in the dim light, he could see a faint flush crawl up her cheeks. “In fact, it was . . . wow.”

He cupped her chin and brushed a thumb over her slightly swollen lip. “It was pretty ‘wow’ for me, too, beautiful.”

And he meant that. It wasn’t because of her spectacular technique or her deviant sexual kink. It definitely wasn’t because she dressed as scantily as a Hollywood Boulevard hooker. It wasn’t at all because she knew how to seduce a man in sixty seconds or less. It was precisely because none of those things were true about Rachel.

She had permanence stamped all over her, and he wasn’t a staying sort of man. He was going to have to be careful not to hurt her if—no, when—he left. Why lie to himself? This cozy feeling would pass, right? Probably, but . . . he didn’t want to know why the idea of parting ways with her made him somewhere between grumpy and enraged.

“Tired?” she asked with a smile.

“No.”

“Hungry or thirsty?”

“No.” He grinned. “Ask me if I’m horny.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I hate that word.”

“Ask me if I want to fuck you again.”

Rachel hesitated, then with an impish smile, she lifted the blanket covering them both and tried to peer down at his cock, but it had to be too dark for her to see. To make sure she didn’t miss even an inch of his cock throbbing for her, Decker threw back the soft sheets and handmade quilt and took himself in hand.

She gasped. “I don’t think I need to ask.”

Her voice suddenly sounded throaty, and it turned him on even more.

“I want you again, Rachel.” He lifted her hand from his chest and eased it down to his hard cock.

He died a small, shuddering death when she wrapped her fingers around him and stroked softly, down and up his sensitive length, then brushed over the tingling head. When she bent to kiss his shoulder, his chest, another tremor wracked his body.

It didn’t make sense. He’d spent three days in bed with a Victoria’s Secret model last time he’d been in Manhattan. Besides being gorgeous, Mandy was experienced, voracious, and unapologetic. She never expected anything more than an orgasm. Normally, she was his kind of girl.

The fine trembling in Rachel’s fingers told Decker that touching him meant something to her and that it was important to her to give him pleasure. And that was revving up his libido more effectively than skimpy lingerie.

Was he getting older and going traditional? Or had he crossed from sentimental right into sappy? It hadn’t escaped Decker that Rachel trusted him with her body when she hadn’t trusted any other man but her husband. He was as moved by her nervousness, her care, and her goodness as he was by her lush tits—and that was saying something. She had a great rack.

He felt . . . stuck on this woman and had every intention of staying by her side, not only to protect her, but until he could figure out why being with her smacked him with the force of a two-by-four to the forehead.

“I want you, too.” In the dark, she closed her eyes and smiled a bit shyly.

Instead of annoying him or making him wish they could just skip to the fucking, Decker found an answering smile stretching his lips. So sweet. So honest in her every response. He felt a bit guilty for lying to her about his reasons for picking her up at the bar, for being here with her now. But he couldn’t apologize for wanting to shield her from a potentially ugly fate and keep her safe. Until this played out, he’d thoroughly enjoy her goodness.

“I want to suck . . .” She glanced down and swallowed, watching her fingers slowly move over his aching dick.

His breath caught. Holy fuck! Even the hint that she wanted her mouth on him made him harder than steel-reinforced concrete.

“My cock?”

“I’m not used to that word.” Her voice trembled, and her hand shook. “But yes.”

He thrust his hands in her hair and led her down to his waiting erection. “Be my guest.”

Her back stiffened, and she tensed against him. “Don’t laugh at me, but I don’t know how.”

Dumbass Owen hadn’t ever sank in between those luscious lips? Given what Rachel had said about her ex, Decker wondered if the moron had even tried or had he found that a time-consuming waste, too? Owen’s loss was absolutely his gain.

“There’s no right or wrong way. Open wide, suck deep, and do what feels natural.”

“All right.” She looked adorably nervous, and he loved the idea that he would be the first inside her plump, pink lips. Yes, it was caveman of him. So fucking what?

Rachel didn’t hesitate or study the situation. She had a lot of gumption when she wanted to; he was learning that already. In fact, he liked her for it.

Then her lips closed around the head of his cock, and he wasn’t thinking anything anymore.

She had to stretch wide to fit her lips around the swollen mushroom head, and the sight of it sent a hot rush of blood south, engorging him even more. He’d had plenty of blow jobs in his life, but this one was different.

Because she was different. No denying that.

If he hadn’t been solicited to kill Rachel and had simply run into her in a bar, he would have taken a long look at her, licked his lips, and kept walking. She was attractive, no doubt. As well as warm and kind—two things he would have sworn he didn’t need in a sexual partner.

But at his age, maybe it was time to realize that life really was about more than the next adrenaline rush of danger and getting laid.

Hell, listen to him, all mature and shit. Decker rolled his eyes. Actually, they rolled into the back of his head as Rachel sighed, sucked back up his length with a flat, wide tongue, then opened around his girth to take him even deeper. God, she wasn’t spectacular at it, and that didn’t fucking matter at all. Knowing that she was trying, that she was trusting him, that she was giving him something she’d never given anyone . . . all of that turned him on. If she’d been insanely good at it, too, he would probably—

Oh hell, he’d thought too soon. Suddenly, she found a coordinated rhythm, a steady up-down that encompassed most of his shaft, paid extra attention to the head, then—fuck!—she cupped his balls. Now that was beyond stunning.

And if she did this for very long, he’d be totally done for.

“Rachel, beautiful . . .” He slid his fingers deeper into her hair and curled them into fists, gently tugging on her hair. “Baby, slowly. You don’t want to—Oh, shit!” He hissed in a long breath, then tensed and shuddered. She might be a novice, but she’d quickly conquered that inexpert thing. That had to be one of the shortest learning curves in history.

“I’m doing it right?” she murmured, then licked the head like a damn ice cream cone, over and over and . . .

Jesus, she was killing him.

“Oh, yeah,” he gasped. “And then some.”

She giggled. “You sound distressed.”

No shit. “That is not funny.”

“Maybe not to you . . .” Rachel flashed a coy smile at him, clearly happy with herself, before she set back to her task.

Decker closed his eyes and let the slow, burning heat of her mouth surround him. An intense suction that made him shudder came next. He jolted under her leisurely bobbing head. When her tongue lapped around the sensitive head, then a tender drag of her teeth followed, he groaned aloud and nearly hit the roof.

He’d had better in his life . . . maybe. He couldn’t really remember right now. But no woman had ever paid so much attention to his reactions, adjusted so quickly, all to so obviously please him. That reality set him ablaze.

Swallowing back another groan of pleasure clawing up from his chest, he tried to nudge her away. Of course, his hips had other ideas, thrusting up into her sweet, pouty mouth and making his cock right at home.

“Rachel, you need to stop.”

“Why?”

He focused in on her sparkling eyes and swollen lips before she engulfed him again. With a groan, he closed his eyes and indulged for a moment, shafting her lips with his steely length for a few sublime seconds. Then he tugged on her hair just enough to bring her away from his cock and sat up.

“If I have to pick where I’m coming next, it’s going to be deep inside that tight pussy again, beautiful. Lie back for me.” Decker rose to his knees and nudged her to her back. “Spread your legs.”

“But I was having fun,” she protested, not complying with his demand.

“I promise you can have more fun later.” Because there was no way he didn’t want to immerse himself between her silken lips again.

Then he didn’t give her another opportunity to talk. With his own body, he urged her back, eclipsing her. Decker looked down at her, tousled dark curls, rosy cheeks, sweet lips, pleading eyes. Christ, he wanted this woman.

When he’d first heard that some ass-hat wanted her dead, he had felt an undeniable urge to keep her alive. When he’d seen her picture, the itch to have her under him had broken out across his body like allover hives he knew he’d have to scratch away. Now that he’d seen her, met her, talked to her, fucked her . . . maybe a few nights with her might not be enough, after all.

Well, wasn’t this quite a U-turn from his attitude the previous afternoon? But damn it, he was always packing up, moving on, setting out for the next “big adventure.” Color him cynical, but adventure often wound up with him chasing trigger-happy dirtbags in third-world shitholes and either freezing his ass off, sweating to death, or picking sand out of some really uncomfortable places. At thirty-three, wasn’t it time to stop playing the grown-up version of cops and robbers and latch on to something real? Wasn’t it time to stop settling for Ms. Right-now?

Rachel was looking pretty damn real and right for him. He wanted to lay her out, fuck her, exhaust her, wake her up, and do it again until she was happily spent and clinging to him. Yeah, that sounded like an awesome version of paradise.

Tearing into a fresh condom, Decker rolled it down the desperate flesh of his cock. He didn’t waste time with niceties except to check that she was wet and ready. The pair of fingers encountered slick, swollen flesh. Oh yeah, they were a go. She wasn’t just wet, but juicy. Perfect.

Lining himself up, he pushed in one inch at a time, checking for discomfort. Her body had quickly adjusted to his size because she didn’t have any difficulty taking every bit of him on the first agonizing thrust. But slow and steady had won that race. The urge to sprint to the finish now was strong—because when didn’t coming inside a gorgeous woman feel good?—but he wanted to see her go off like a fireworks show first.

Buried in as deep as he could be, Decker flexed his hips and pushed a bit more. She hissed, then her eyes flew open and met his stare. He could happily dive into their chocolate depths and stay for a sweet, long while.

He stilled for a moment, feeling her tight walls engulf him, sucking him in deeper. He shuddered, his spine stiff, his body seized by the need to experience her in every way possible. The first time had been good. Already Decker could tell the second time was going to be even fucking better. Yee-haw!

Gathering her against his chest, Decker lifted her lush hips and eased out of her snug pussy before he stroked deep again. She felt electric around him, squeezing him as she gasped, jolting him with another sizzle of need. Jesus, what was it about this woman?

Rachel wrapped her legs around his hips and rocked with him, thrusting to his rhythm, her little cries driving him higher and higher. Frantically, she kissed her way across his shoulder, to his jaw. Then he claimed her mouth, his tongue plunging as deep as his dick. He wanted all of her every way he could get her. Her nails dug into his back, and she went wild underneath him, urging him on silently to give her every fucking thing.

After that, containing himself . . . impossible. His hips moved like they had a mind of their own, hammering her with long, rapid strokes. Tingles burned in his balls, danced through his body.

He grabbed her tighter, somehow managing to sink even farther into her body, deeper than he swore he’d ever been inside any woman. Blood raced, his heart chugged. Fuck, this was going to be good.

“Mine,” he growled.

She’d probably question that statement later. He ought to as well. But now, what they shared felt damn good. Right. Like he’d willingly fight any man to the death who wanted to touch her. That shit wasn’t happening—at all. In this moment, for this night, she was absolutely, unquestionably his.

And the thought turned him on even more. Fuck, at this rate he wasn’t going to last long, which blew his mind. Orgasm number two didn’t usually happen for a long while, and he could really lay thick pleasure on a woman while he took the time finding his own. This was completely different. Damn it, he intended to make sure she climaxed before this growing need blew off the top of his head.

As pleasure surged, his heartbeat roared, mixing with the deafening sounds of her mewls. As she screamed, arching up to him, Decker surged deep, filling her one final time. Blinding heat seared him. Her pussy constricted, pulsing, caressing the length of his cock and annihilating his restraint. As she shuddered through her orgasm, his seed spewed with the force of C4, detonating everything inside him.

Damn, at this rate, she was going to kill him. But he’d die happy.

With a groan, he stumbled from the bed, damn near dizzy, and disposed of the condom. She looked so gorgeous all flushed and damp, lying across her bed. He snagged a towel from the bathroom, ran warm water over a corner, then returned to clean her up.

“I’ll do it.” She reached for the terrycloth, still panting.

Decker edged away. “I’ll do it. You’ll lie there and look pretty so I can contemplate all the other ways I can sully you.”

With a tired laugh, Rachel rested back against the mattress. She was a bit stiff, a little self-conscious as he wiped her clean, but he was relieved to see that she trusted him enough to allow this intimacy.

Once he tossed the towel back in the bathroom, he crawled over her body and hunkered down beside her, nudging her to her side so she lay against him, her thigh tossed over his. The ceiling fan churned anemically overhead, fighting ineffectually against the humidity, sweat, and blazing sexual heat in the room.

He didn’t think he’d make it until dawn before he’d want inside her again. As she pressed against him, lips caressing his chest, her breasts cupping his ribs, he mentally revised that to an hour. Maybe less.

“So that’s what sex is supposed to be like?” she whispered.

Decker hesitated. “Really fantastic sex. This was above and beyond for me, too.”

Rachel sighed happily. “I’m glad you came over tonight.”

“Yeah.” And if she thought for one minute that he was about to get up and leave, he had a big surprise for her. With someone out to get her, he wasn’t budging. After that . . . well, he was starting to think that maybe he wouldn’t budge then, either.

• • •

SUNLIGHT STREAMED THROUGH the window, despite the blinds slanting up. Decker cracked an eye open and found Rachel draped across him, still completely naked, her dark hair cascading over his shoulder and down his arm. He raised his head a fraction. Her eyes remained closed, dark lashes feathering gentle half-circles on smooth cheeks. In the morning light, he saw a little spill of freckles on her nose. Her fingers splayed across his chest. Her breathing remained deep and even. So trusting.

She made him hard as hell. Again. Still.

After waking her at two and four thirty to slide into those sweet curves and possess her again, he should be sated and totally exhausted. But at just before eight a.m., even with shaky legs and an empty stomach, he was contemplating another go-round.

Yep, this woman totally flipped every switch.

And if he wanted to keep her alive long enough to see where this was leading, he needed to stop mooning over her and figure out who might be trying to kill her. Item one on the agenda: Dig up a picture of the illustrious ex and see if Owen was a match for the ass-hat in the bar. Preferably before Rachel awoke and wondered what the hell he was up to.

Slowly, he rose from bed and grimaced. He felt grimy, and couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually slept over with a woman. And he’d gotten soft since a damn toothbrush was pretty high on his list of must-haves.

Tossing on his jeans and the pistol he’d hidden beneath, he headed to the guest bathroom down the hall.

Inside, he flipped on the light. Bless Rachel. She’d thought of everything to make a guest comfortable. The vanity held a new toothbrush, fluffy towels, shampoo, and soap.

Decker made quick use of them, then wrapped the beige terrycloth around his hips. As he cracked the bathroom door, he heard a crash in the kitchen. His heartbeat kicked into high gear. Adrenaline ratcheted up, and he charged out, pistol in hand, ready to fight whoever had come for her.

As he sneaked down the hall, his back hugging the wall, he heard a feminine cry, then another crash. Fuck, what was going on?

Heart pounding, he forced himself to stay calm and crept closer, finger on the trigger, promising that any motherfucker who wanted to hurt her was going to find himself minus a head.

Fighting for calm, Decker clung to shadows until he rounded the corner and had a straight sightline into the kitchen. But he didn’t see anyone attacking Rachel. Rather, she attacked a plastic bin of flour and a couple of eggs while wrestling with a stainless steel bowl. A can of nonstick cooking spray rolled down the counter. She slammed down a wooden spoon, looking beyond frustrated.

Actually, it was kind of adorable.

Until she emerged from behind the tall counter and he realized she was wearing a frilly red apron, a pair of black stilettos—and nothing else.

He wanted to fuck her right now.

Darting back into the bathroom, he grabbed his jeans and flipped them over his pistol, hiding the piece, then sauntered down the hall and set everything down within easy reach—just in case—on the adjacent kitchen table.

“That looks mighty good,” he drawled.

She blinked up at him, flushed and flustered. “Pancakes will be ready soon.”

“I meant you, beautiful. Forget food right now. I’d rather fuck you.”

And he didn’t take no for an answer; snagging one arm around her waist and dragging her against his body, he dropped a hard kiss across her lips. Jesus, she smelled sweet. She’d brushed her teeth and pulled her artless curls into some half-up, half-down ’do that made him want to mess it up with his fingers.

He claimed her lips, sinking into her mouth and delivering a long, slow kiss of good morning. Rachel melted against him, opened wide to let him in, and gave as good as she got. Hmm, he could get used to this . . .

When he pulled back and sent her a steamy stare that suggested they get busy, she blushed a pretty pink.

With a laugh, he glanced down her body. “In fact, you look good enough to eat, beautiful. Did you dress up just for me?”

The blush deepened. “Maybe a little.”

“I like it. I’d like the shoes better if they were up around my ears, but . . .”

She rolled her eyes. “Is that supposed to be another pick-up line you found on Google?”

“Nope. That’s all me. Impressed?” He winked and found that he really liked teasing her. He adored the way she looked down demurely while giving him a flirtatious smile with a hint of the devil.

“Decker, you’re a wicked man.”

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” he promised, then pulled her in for another kiss.

Sweet. Always so damn sweet. She didn’t taste like danger, betrayal, or another man, as the other women he’d taken to bed for the last decade did. She was warm and real and . . .

Shit, he sounded like some poetry-writing pussy. But it was all true.

With an arm around her waist, he didn’t have any trouble finding the big bow at the small of her waist and untying her apron. She barely had a chance to sputter a little protest before he yanked it over her head and tossed it to the ground, then silenced her with another kiss. A moment later, Rachel threw her arms around his neck and pressed herself close, rubbing against his nagging cock.

Decker thrust his hands in her hair, no longer giving a shit about her pretty curls arranged away from her face and all around her shoulders. “You keep doing that and you’re definitely going to get fucked.”

She gave a throaty laugh. “Promise?”

Fitting his hands around her ribs, under her arms, he lifted her onto the white tile of the kitchen counter. She gasped when her bare ass made contact with the cold surface. Rachel squirmed and tried to get comfortable. He just smiled. “Yes. Right here. Right now. Spread your legs and brace your heels on the edge of the counter.”

She blinked, looking so gratifyingly shocked, but she complied. “Just . . . like this?”

“Exactly like that,” he confirmed. “You make me ache for you every time.”

A fresh blush bloomed over her whole body.

“You ever had sex outside the bedroom?”

She shook her head, biting her lip and casting her gaze down again. “No.”

“Oh, beautiful . . . We’re going to have so much fun.” He grabbed her ankles and spread them wider, helping her anchor her heels on the edge of the counter, toes pointed down, leaving her pretty cunt completely open for his stare, his tongue, his cock.

Best breakfast ever, and he couldn’t wait to dive in. He was on his last condom, but after this, he’d somehow manage to drag himself out of her pussy long enough to feed her and run by the drugstore. After that, all bets were off.

Ready for a feast, he ran a finger down the inside of her thigh, skirting ever closer to her sensitive, swollen center. How fascinating to watch her folds grow slick and flush and pouty for his attention. Every part of her was beautiful.

He dropped his towel and took a few sidesteps over to his jeans, carefully removing the condom without disturbing the gun. Rachel watched, her breathing rapid, her lids heavy, her lips rosy and parted, her legs spread wide. When had he ever seen a sight more gorgeous? No doubt, he was a lucky son of a bitch that she was all his, at least for now.

And the thought crept back in that if he played his cards right, she could be his forever.

His teasing mien fell away. The inner caveman roared, wanting to break free, to claim, to take, to mark. He’d never, ever felt anything like this, but he wasn’t about to fight something that felt so right.

Decker stuck the condom wrapper between his teeth, ready to tear it open, roll it on, and sink so deeply inside her that she’d never think about walking away.

The thought was spinning in his head. Her heavy breaths, his pounding heart, the gravity of the moment—it was all broken by the ringing of a doorbell.

SIX

RACHEL GASPED AND STIFFENED, THEN SCRAMBLED OFF THE counter. Decker snagged his towel from the hardwood floor and blocked her. No way was she answering that door or talking to anyone unless it was someone’s ninety-year-old grandma. And even then, he intended to frisk her for weapons.

“Are you answering the door in nothing but high heels?”

Panic flitted across her face, then she cursed. “No.”

“Go put some clothes on. I got it.”

“You don’t have any clothes either,” she screeched.

Decker pointed to his jeans on the table, then turned her toward the hall, urging her back toward the bedroom with a little slap. “Go. You expecting anyone?”

“No.” She jogged down the hall, carrying her shoes. “No one ever rings my doorbell, especially this early on a Sunday morning.”

Frowning, he watched her disappear into her room, then snagged his gun and jeans, putting the latter on and palming the former. He shoved the condom in his pocket again. Whoever stood on the other side of the door was going to get his nuts blown off if Decker deemed him unfriendly.

All kinds of pissed off for being cockblocked, he stalked down the hall. “This better be nothing.”

When he reached the door, he tore it open to find a man of average height with hazel eyes behind round glasses, a checkered shirt, and khakis. He had nondescript shoes and an even more blah cut of hair in an unremarkable color somewhere between blond and light brown. The only thing worth mentioning was the scowl on his face.

“Who are you?” the stranger asked.

Decker slanted him a menacing glare. “Who are you?”

The scholarly, sharp face told him the guy was a few years older. The hint of paunch suggested this dude was more sedentary. The permanent vertical furrow between his brows said to Decker that the stranger scowled a lot. He lacked a coat, so it wasn’t like he could hide a shoulder holster. The piece might be tucked into the small of his back, but . . . The man’s hands looked too soft to be lethal.

Whoever this was, Decker didn’t think he was threatening. Annoying? That he already believed.

“I’m here to see Rachel.” The other guy tried to look down his nose at Decker, but that had to be hard when he had to look up a few inches and through glasses to meet his stare.

“She’s . . . busy.” Decker flashed a tight smile and hoped the dude got the right idea. Whoever he was, no way was he homing in on Rachel.

Mr. Glasses straightened his rims and glanced down Decker’s body, rolling his eyes at the tattoos and hard abs. Then his stare bulged when he spotted the gun pinned to his thigh.

“What are you doing with that?” he backed away a step. “I hope you’re a policeman.”

Not exactly, but close enough. “Something like that.”

“Are you hurting her?”

“Would I be answering the door if I was?” Decker rolled his eyes.

“Are you taking advantage of her?” Though nervous, the stranger looked ready to dress him down.

Decker tried not to laugh. Taking advantage of her? Every chance I get . . .

“None of your business. Who the hell are you and why are you standing on her porch when you weren’t invited?”

If it was possible, the guy got even more uptight, and some suspicions about his identity took root. And if this was who he thought, that would really fuck up everything.

Before he could say another word, Rachel came skidding around the corner and into the foyer. She stopped at the door with a gasp. “Owen, what are you doing here?”

Yep, that confirmed his suspicions. Damn it. While it seemed awfully convenient that Four-eyes was in town when Decker had been solicited to kill her, the truth was Owen hadn’t been the guy on the next barstool, offering him twenty-five thousand down and another twenty-five when the job was done. Yes, Owen could have hired someone to employ him. But why? Rachel’s ex looked more like the sort who would protest violence, not create it. With a curse, Decker surreptitiously tucked his pistol in the small of his back before Rachel could spot it, and leaned against the wall.

If Owen hadn’t solicited him to commit murder, then he was back to square one, trying to figure out who had.

• • •

WEARING LITTLE MORE than a frilly robe with her hair in disarray, Rachel stared at her ex-husband, who gave Decker a derisive glare, then sent her a look filled with scorn. She bristled. He’d moved on with his life. Hers was none of his business now.

“I’m here to talk to you,” Owen said stiffly. “I didn’t realize you were occupied. New boyfriend?”

“We just met,” she admitted softly.

But Decker talked over her, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “Yes. I’m possessive, too.”

Rachel nudged Decker, wondering what the devil was wrong with him. Then she tugged him away from the door, pulling it open. “Come in, Owen.”

Val had other ideas. The fat orange tabby pranced to the door, sniffed at Owen, and hissed. Beside her, Decker laughed.

“You’ve still got that beast?”

“Of course.”

“Hmm . . . And now you’ve added another.” He shot Decker another disdainful stare.

Annoyance flared through Rachel. Who was Owen to judge? She hadn’t met his new girlfriend, Carly, but she sounded like she could be a bimbo. So she’d gone for the hot guy who was good in bed this time. So what? She was entitled.

Except Decker was way more than that. When she’d met him at the bar, then texted him for what amounted to a booty call, she hadn’t expected anything beyond a good time. Instead, he’d put her at ease while challenging her notions of herself and sex. He’d been patient, understanding, willing to listen, and ardent in bed. If he wasn’t a one-night stand, he might be everything she wanted.

“Can you make him put a shirt on first?” Owen sounded nothing less than acerbic.

Suddenly, Decker dragged her closer. “Only if you stop being a judgmental asshole. If you want to talk, you can wait while we put on some clothes, which I’m opposed to by the way.”

Rachel gaped at him. “Decker . . .”

“Hey, I offered to get dressed. After what he interrupted, I think that’s pretty magnanimous of me.”

She felt a furious blush creep up her cheeks. Why not just take out a billboard announcing that they were having sex. “Would you—Shh!”

“I think he could have guessed what we were up to, beautiful.” He grinned at her, and damn it, there was no way she could stay mad at him. Mercy, she must be out of her mind.

She turned back to Owen, doing her best to stand tall and look prim, despite wearing a robe designed for seduction, with her hair a wild tangle all around her. “The living room is straight to the back of the house. If you need coffee, I’ll make you a cup quickly before I—”

“No, you won’t.” Decker picked her up, lifting her against his chest. “He’ll survive without caffeine for five minutes.” He sniffed her and nuzzled her neck. “Or thirty.”

She gasped. “Decker!”

“I am not amused, Rachel.” Owen glowered.

He never was. She tried not to sigh.

Decker got in his face. “You came over here unannounced and uninvited early on a Sunday morning. Don’t expect her to just drop everything for you. You should have had the common courtesy to call first, but you didn’t because you’re either an inconsiderate bastard or you wanted to see if she’d be alone. Either way, that makes you a prick. If you’re just rude, then shut the fuck up and stop acting like you’re the most important person here. If you hoped to find her still alone, sorry to burst your little bubble. Rachel is far too gorgeous and kind to spend her life without someone who knows how great she is. You’ve moved on, and she’s doing the same. If that’s too much for you to handle, then scoot your annoying ass down the road. If you’re staying, then I expect to hear some courtesy and respect for her, especially since you knocked on her door. I’ve heard all the asshole I’m going to take from you. Are we clear?”

Rachel pressed her lips together to hold in a gasp—and a cheer. Decker had just defended her in the most beautiful way possible. She wanted to hug him, kiss him, tell him how grateful she was. Not only was he funny and great between the sheets, he was protective and kind in his brutish way. Everything she’d always wanted and never gotten from her ex. She melted inside, especially when Owen had the good grace to look contrite.

“Yes,” he mumbled. “I . . . You just startled me.”

Decker didn’t look like he believed Owen, but he let it pass. “Like I said, you can wait for us in the living room. We’ll be out soon.”

“I need to talk to Rachel alone,” her ex-husband protested.

She wanted nothing less than to spend quality one-on-one time with Owen.

“Not going to happen. If you have something to say, you can say it with me in the room,” Decker answered for her. Normally, she’d hate that, but if it kept her ex’s visit brief, then she’d agree to anything.

Owen adjusted his glasses, bristling. “It’s quite private.”

“Too bad. If you want to talk to her, that’s the deal. I don’t have to negotiate.”

Owen’s hands curled into fists and he pinned them to his hips. “This is ludicrous. What exactly do you think I’m going to do to her?”

“I don’t know, but this craptastic attitude of yours isn’t giving me a warm fuzzy. If you want to talk to Rachel, we’ll be out shortly. If you want to leave, don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out. That’s the deal.”

Without waiting for a reply, Decker turned and carried her through the foyer and down the hall. Shock still pinged through her. What the hell was he up to? Why did he give a rip about Owen wanting to talk to her? Even with the uncertainty, she couldn’t hold in a smile.

He wandered back to the bedroom and set her on her feet. Rachel’s head raced as she shut the door and whirled on him. “I don’t know whether to thank you from the bottom of my heart or ask you if you’re psycho. Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to set Owen on his butt?”

“I’m sure a while. It’s obviously long overdue, since the prick seems to think that you should ask, ‘How high?’ whenever he tells you to jump.” He cocked his head. “You did that for years, didn’t you?”

She frowned. “Probably longer than I should have.”

“Then he deserved what he got. You’re no longer his, and you don’t have to do a damn thing he says.”

“But I’m not yours, either.” And that was the confusing part. She didn’t really expect him to care about her problems with Owen, but he’d made sure that her demanding ex didn’t walk all over her. “You didn’t have to stick your neck out there.”

“Yeah, I did. You’re too good for him. I wasn’t about to let him treat you that way.”

Those words made her liquefy into a puddle of goo. Who was she kidding? It made her want to fling aside her robe and plaster her naked body to his. “Thanks. That means a lot. Asserting myself with him is something I’ve struggled with for years. I know I should. I just don’t like confrontation.”

And every time she’d tried, Owen had done his best to make her feel petty and regret it.

“Then I’ll take care of it for you.”

His words took her aback. “I-I don’t expect you to stay and listen to whatever Owen is droning on about. It will be long and dull and probably sanctimonious. If you want to take a rain check on the pancakes, I’ll let you off easy.”

Decker clenched his jaw. “I’m not in a hurry to leave, Rachel. And I’m not thrilled with the idea of leaving you alone with a man who doesn’t know how to draw the line between you two, much less be polite. I’ll blend into the background if you want, but I’d like to stay. One of the truths about being a protector for a living is that your instincts are well honed. I don’t like him being here. Why isn’t he in Florida?”

What did Decker think Owen would do to her? He was annoying, but harmless.

“I have no idea.”

“Let’s put some clothes on and find out.” He gave her a hot, lingering stare. “Or take them off and deal with him a lot later.”

Rachel sent him a playful swat. He was good for her ego, but she shouldn’t keep Owen waiting. Not only was it rude, but he’d make her pay for it eventually, when Decker had gone for good.

Within minutes, Rachel found undergarments, jeans, and a red, scoop-neck T-shirt in her closet at the back of her bathroom and dressed. She ran a brush through her hair and applied a little lip gloss. She wasn’t getting prettier than this without makeup, and that would take too long.

Emerging back into her bedroom, she saw Decker fully dressed in last night’s clothes. His five o’clock shadow had grown thicker, darker, making him look more disreputable. Dangerous. She shivered. That shouldn’t turn her on. She’d never been attracted to the bad boy.

Rachel couldn’t deny that she’d made an exception for him.

“Let’s go.” She smiled at him and found herself blushing as she remembered everything they’d done last night.

As if he could read her mind, Decker grinned back. “And get this over with so we can come back to bed.”

Hand in hand, they made their way down the hall, Decker leading her through the narrow corridor. She had no idea why he hadn’t bailed when she’d given him the opportunity, much less why he’d stayed and seemed determined to stake his claim in front of Owen. It was kind of unnerving . . . but it was mostly nice. He’d defended her and was now standing by her side during what she feared wasn’t going to be a fun conversation. Not at all what she’d imagined when she’d invited Decker over last night, but she had to admit that she was pleasantly surprised. This was her first one-night stand, and she didn’t know the etiquette, but something told her this might last longer than a few hot, sweaty hours.

Back in the living room, Decker took a seat on the sofa and immediately began staring down Owen. She escaped to the kitchen and made coffee for all and tidied up, prolonging the moment she had to face her ex. A few minutes later, she brought out the steaming mugs, along with sugar and cream, and some homemade cookies she’d baked the other night out of boredom. They were still soft and fresh, and she didn’t think she could face Owen without something in her stomach. Even if his attitude might make her want to throw it all back up.

After she set the tray of everything on the table, Decker wrapped his arm around her and pulled her back onto the sofa with him. Then he leaned in and made coffee for her.

“Sugar and cream?” he asked.

“Please.” She wondered how he’d guessed. “Do you still like yours with cream Owen?”

He watched them stiffly. “Yes.”

When Rachel scooted forward to help Decker, he shook his head. “I’ve got it.”

Minutes later, he handed her a mug of morning goodness and an oatmeal raisin cookie. A moment later, Decker slid Owen’s across the coffee table to him. She couldn’t see his face, but his body language beside her was tense with a not-quite-friendly warning. Then he poured his own brew and drank it black, snatching up one of the cookies and groaning as he took a bite.

Decker was noisy and intrusive, and she had a feeling he intended Owen to be very aware of his presence. He was almost overly protective, and she probably ought to be annoyed, but she smiled a bit.

“So what brings you to Lafayette?” she asked her ex politely. “I assume you came here from Florida to see me for a specific reason.”

Owen sipped at his coffee, obviously savoring it. “You still make some of the best coffee. I need to remember to put some cinnamon in mine.” He set the cup on the saucer, then adjusted both to the little side table beside his chair. “Since you’re . . . occupied, I’ll make this brief.”

“Smart man,” Decker mumbled beside her.

Rachel elbowed him. “I’m listening. Go ahead.”

“As you might have heard, I’m dating someone now. Her name is Carly. She’s an aide at the university. Very bright woman.”

“I did hear. That’s wonderful. I hope you’re happy.”

Owen hesitated. “I’ve come here for her.”

Rachel cocked her head and frowned. Owen thought visiting his ex-wife would somehow make his current girlfriend happy? “I don’t understand.”

He sighed, rubbing his hands together and humming. Owen did that when he was uncomfortable. “Carly’s brother lives here in Lafayette. She had plans to come see him, and I didn’t want to spend these few days without her.”

What? Owen had never wanted to leave work. Missing her would have been the last reason he’d have torn himself away from everything he considered vital.

“We’ve been dating about eight months, you see. We started slowly at first. But we—” Owen slanted an annoyed stare at Decker. “Is it necessary to have this conversation with him in the room?”

“We’ve covered this. I’m not leaving.” Decker leaned into the sofa and threw an arm around her, sending him a tight smile. Technically, he didn’t bare teeth, but he might as well have. “So if you want to talk to her, I’m staying.”

Rachel tossed Decker a questioning stare. Wasn’t the morning after when the hot guy usually walked out and never returned the lonely girl’s calls? Instead, he looked not just protective, but possessive—a bit like he wanted to stake a claim so her ex would understand.

Owen looked ready to launch into one of his logical tirades where she felt reduced to an inch tall, even though he never raised his voice. He just talked in hundred dollar words and used analogies only a physicist could understand to make her feel dumb.

“I’m not asking my guest to leave for you, Owen. You and I aren’t together anymore, and I don’t owe you anything. If you want to talk, I’m listening.”

“As you wish.” He didn’t sound pleased as he glared at Decker. “I’d appreciate if you’d butt out.”

Decker held up his hands. “Hey, if this is about your love life, as long as it’s got nothing to do with Rachel, you and I have no problems.”

“I’ve no idea how you can like this muscle-bound Neanderthal, but . . . Back to Carly. I see a future with her. I would like that very much. But . . . we’ve run into a snag. You know me, Rachel. I’m uncomfortable with feelings.”

The understatement of the millennium. “Go on.”

“She’s convinced that I need more closure with you before I’ll be ready to move on. She is adamant that until I understand my part in what went wrong between us, I can’t really embrace another relationship.”

Rachel sucked in a breath. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about her past in front of her current squeeze, even though they had almost no likelihood of sharing a future. She’d love it if there were possibilities for her and Decker; last night had been incredible—everything she’d fantasized about and more. He was still something like a dream this morning. But real life wasn’t a fairy tale, and she wasn’t expecting happily ever after.

“Owen, I think we’ve said everything important between us.”

“No.” He swallowed. “Tell me . . . Was I truly insensitive to your feelings?”

What a catch-22. If she said no, Owen would know she was lying. If she said yes, it would spark an unpleasant discussion. Good gravy, sometimes she hated her pathological need to do the right thing.

“Yes. We discussed this at the end, if you’ll remember.”

“I didn’t understand. Explain it again.”

Rachel heaved a sigh. “You were always very absorbed with your work, Owen. Before I even left the room, you were already pondering atomic particles or quantum entanglement or whatever the project of the moment was. When I entered a room, most of the time, I wasn’t even sure you knew I was there.”

Owen inhaled stiffly. “Of course I knew. I’m sorry if you thought otherwise. Not everyone understands my work. But Carly does. She finds it as engrossing as I do.”

Then she ought to be a regular barrel of fun. “Great. Maybe you two have more in common than we did and—”

“Let’s cut to the chase,” Decker interrupted. “If Carly wants you to understand how you fucked up the first time, let me clue you in. You were self-absorbed, dumbass. Dude, it’s not always about you.” Decker scowled across the room at Owen. “You didn’t care if you gave Rachel pleasure or made her feel loved. You were more interested in your job than your wife, and that’s never going to make any woman with a drop of passion in her blood or an ounce of love in her heart happy.”

Owen sputtered angrily, then gaped at her with his face full of betrayal. “You’ve spoken to him about us?”

“You’ve spoken to Carly about our marriage,” she pointed out.

Adjusting his shirt, Owen stiffened righteously. “Yes, but we’ve been dating for some time now. We’re contemplating a future together. If I’m not mistaken, you can measure the time you’ve known this obnoxious lothario in hours. Rachel, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but he’s using you for sex. Then he’ll leave you. I thought you respected yourself more than to act like a . . . cheap floozy for someone like him.”

She reared back as if he’d slapped her in the face. In a way, he had. “I was thinking about experiencing all the orgasms I never got when I was married to you. And Decker might not have phrased it nicely, but he’s absolutely right. I didn’t feel valued, Owen. I don’t think you ever truly loved me. If you came here for advice, I’ll give it to you. Start by caring about something besides work. Romance is important. Sex is more than a bodily function. Don’t make her feel like an interruption or your dirty necessity. You did that to me all the time, you . . . jerk.”

The enormity of what she’d just said hit her. She gasped. Had that really just spewed from her mouth? Her mama had taught her that if she didn’t have anything nice to say, she shouldn’t say anything at all. But if he’d come here for the truth, why not give it to him? Clearly Decker was rubbing off on her . . .

“What she said,” he added with a proud smile.

“I’m speechless,” Owen admitted, looking stupefied. “I didn’t know you felt that strongly about frivolous things like flowers and intercourse. I married you because I thought you were far too sensible to care much for such inane things.”

“You didn’t ask. And honestly, you wouldn’t have cared how I felt, Owen. And I’ll tell you the truth. Carly probably cares about those things, too, because she’s a woman, not a robot. If you want to keep her, you need to figure out how to meet her halfway.”

“I never meant to hurt you,” he offered.

Too little, too late. Rachel sighed. “I know. It’s water under the bridge. I just hope you’re ready to be a better man and partner with Carly.”

Owen didn’t answer. He simply sat there, looking disoriented and lost in thought. Rachel had never seen that expression on his face. He was actually worried about losing Carly. The woman mattered to him.

Amazing. Maybe she should have been more honest with Owen while they were married. Instead, she’d done her best to be understanding. The minute he’d started taking her for granted, she should have said something. But the few times she’d tried, Owen hadn’t understood or hadn’t thought it important. His dismissive attitude, as if her feelings were nowhere nearly as important to him as subatomic particles traveling faster than the speed of light at CERN, had really hurt. In the grand scheme of the universe, of course his work was important. But at the time, she’d wondered why she hadn’t mattered, too. He’d been far too interested in chasing what Einstein had never been able to prove. In fact, when she’d said she wanted a divorce, his long sigh of irritation—with nary a word of protest—told her they were never meant to be. If she’d faced that sooner, she could have saved herself a few years and a lot of heartache.

“You’ve gotten what you came here for, pal. Thanks for stopping by.” Decker stood and rounded the coffee table to stand over Owen expectantly.

“I . . .” He looked at Rachel. “That’s so much to contemplate. You’re talking about changing the way I do everything, the way I approach life. Sex is actually important to women?”

“Yes, Owen. I know it’s a lot, but—”

“Look, this girl is either important to you or she isn’t,” Decker cut in. “If she is and you want to keep her, then use your head. There’s a reason she sent you to talk to Rachel. Women don’t usually want their man talking to an ex unless they’re at the end of their rope. And when did you get the stupid-ass idea that sex wasn’t important to women?”

Owen frowned, gaping. “I know it’s important to most men, but . . . I assumed women were less interested in such things.”

“The amount of pleasure you give her is a direct statement about how important she is to you, ass-hat. If you can’t make the effort to make her feel good when she’s yielding her time and body to you, then how can she feel valued?” Decker shook his head. “Didn’t you ever learn to kiss and sweet-talk girls in high school out of their bras and into their panties?”

A red flush swept up Owen’s face. “No. I let beer in college do that for me.”

Which probably explained why he’d kept a few bottles of good wine in the house when they’d been married and given her a glass or two when he’d been “in the mood.”

“Well, now you know that females like conversation with their orgasms. They like to feel special.” Decker dragged Owen to his feet, and her ex stood as if in a daze. “Try that with Carly. Ask her what she likes and listen. Put a smile on her face. And fucking call next time you’re thinking of dropping by to see Rachel.”

He managed to scoot her ex out of the room, down the hall, and out the front door without a protest from Owen. The way Decker had handled her ex had been nothing short of brilliant.

The second Decker shut the door behind Owen, he locked it and flashed her a sharkish grin.

“Decker?” She backed away.

“Beautiful . . .” He urged her against the foyer wall, kissing her absolutely breathless. A girl could get used to this . . .

Too bad he wouldn’t be around.

Rachel broke the kiss. The thought that he would soon leave and she would probably never see him again bothered her way more than it should. It was a good idea to part ways soon, before she started losing her heart to Decker. Or maybe it was already too late?

“Do you want those pancakes now? I really do know how to make them. I don’t want to send you off hungry.” She tried to wink and tease and not let on that his imminent departure was breaking her heart more than it probably should.

She expected him to agree, maybe share a casual breakfast with her. Then she supposed he’d smile, offer some thanks, along with a kiss or two, then climb on that gleaming motorcycle of his and leave. The last thing Rachel had ever imagined was for his face to thunder over, for his blue eyes to penetrate her bravado, and for him to press every inch of his hard body into her possessively.

“If you want pancakes, fine. If you don’t want to send me away hungry, then let’s skip the kitchen and go back to bed. I’m famished for you.”

SEVEN

DECKER HELD RACHEL, NAKED AND WARM, CLOSE TO HIM IN postcoital bliss, and eyed Val meowing on the far side of the bed. No doubt, they were both hungry, but that wasn’t his biggest problem.

Fighting down a mild panic, he dropped a kiss on Rachel’s brow as she slept, then he covered her up. Away from the bed, he stepped into his jeans and tucked the gun into the small of his back before making his way to the kitchen. As he did, he jammed his hand in his pocket, searching for his phone. Val followed, and he kind of wanted to high-five the cat for hissing at Owen.

Rachel’s diva pet turned cheetah and ran straight for the pantry. In the cheerful white kitchen, Decker flipped on the lights and opened the door. The cat purred and rubbed up against his bag of dry food, then looked at him with a plaintive wail.

No wonder Rachel was a sucker for Val. He’d nearly perfected crying like a baby to get his way.

With a faint grin, Decker scooped some dry food into Val’s bowl. The feline immediately darted to his dish and dived in, dismissing him.

“Lucky thing.” Decker only wished he could solve his own problems that easily, but he was going to have to make a call to even start in that direction.

Peeking down the hall, glad that Rachel hadn’t stirred from bed, he called Xander, who answered just before the fourth ring, sounding distinctly pissed off. “This better be good.”

Which meant that he’d caught his boss having a little nookie with London.

“Hang up!” Javier snarled on the other end, clearly near his brother.

Which meant they were both having a little nookie with London.

Talk about bad timing . . .

“Don’t need me for a few days. I still can’t figure out who’s trying to off Rachel. She’s not safe alone.” And he hated lying to her about why he’d picked her up at that dive bar, but the truth would scare the hell out of her. He would stay for a while, protect her, make this asshole go away . . . then decide what to do with his life. He’d have to come clean with her eventually, but what they had was too new. She might not understand or believe him. If he was still seeing forever with her after the danger had passed, then he’d sit her down, spew the truth, and they’d hash it all out.

“Got it. I won’t call you unless the world is ending. If you promise from now on not to call on a Sunday morning,” Xander growled.

“No problem.”

Without another word, Xander ended the call. The man was almost as devoted to the operation of S.I. Industries, the family business he ran with Javier, as he was to London’s pleasure. Almost, but not quite . . .

With that, Decker pocketed the phone, then helped himself to Rachel’s laptop. In less than ten minutes, he figured out that Owen and Carly had flown into Lafayette on Saturday about noon, not necessarily enough time to have made it to the bar by two to solicit him to commit murder. That would explain why he might have hired a go-between. And provide Owen a great alibi if suspicion ever turned his way. They were scheduled to fly home tomorrow evening.

Another interesting tidbit jumped out at him. Owen and Carly had applied for a marriage license. They’d blown past the three-day waiting period. In fact, they hadn’t married in the sixty days since applying. The license had expired. What was that about? Had Carly gotten cold feet? Had that been the bump in their relationship Owen had alluded to?

To compound Decker’s problems, Rachel clearly expected him to leave anytime now. She’d probably wake up from their latest round of breath-stealing, eye-crossing sex, try to feed him, and assume he wanted to go. He had to put a stop to that shit now so he could fix everything else. Time was ticking, and whoever wanted Rachel dead was expecting a call to confirm completion of the job any minute now. What was he going to do once Monday morning rolled around and she wanted to go into work? Tie her to the bed?

The idea had delicious possibilities, but only with her consent. Somehow, he didn’t think she’d agree to miss school for just about any reason. Fuck.

His thoughts racing, he strode to the pantry. He was no Chef Ramsey but he got by. Pulling out a loaf of bread and retrieving some eggs from the refrigerator, Decker managed to scrape together something that looked like sustenance within ten minutes. By that time, Val was happily purring around his ankles and meowing his thanks.

Plating everything onto the first dish he found in the cabinet, he tossed on a banana from the counter, grabbed a couple of forks, and poured them each a glass of juice. As he made his way down the hall, he heard Rachel stirring. Val darted to his mistress, and by the time Decker entered the bedroom, she was cuddling with the little fur ball.

She looked up at Decker with sleepy dark eyes and rosy cheeks. A little smile played at her lips. Barely concealed by the sheet, Rachel looked a bit rumpled and a lot sated. She was probably the most beautiful woman he’d seen, not because she was perfect or belonged in a magazine. Because he had put that look on her face. Because she looked like his.

Oh fuck, he was in deep.

“Did you cook?”

“Just for you. I did my very best to make it edible, too.”

“You mean it won’t taste like something the school cafeteria sells?”

He hesitated. “I can’t promise that. It might be worse, since I don’t really cook. But I get points for effort, right?”

“Sure.” She smiled at him, looking really happy. And what did it say that seeing that expression on her face gratified him?

“Good. I can trade those points in on . . . favors, can’t I?”

“Like?” She flirted coyly from under her lashes.

He set the plate on her nightstand and bent to nuzzle her neck. “Hmm, suck your nipples like candy. Or spend lunch between your legs. Feeling your mouth all around my cock? I know, how about spending the afternoon inside you.”

“For that, I’ll give you lots of points.” Then she shifted her gaze away. “I’d love for you to spend a little more time with me if you’ve got it. And you want to.”

Decker kissed her cheek and handed her the plate. Here’s where he had to lie to Rachel again. And fuck all if he didn’t hate that. Maybe he should tell her the truth. It was her life, after all. But he hated to take away her upbeat attitude about the world. He didn’t want to be the one to make her afraid. His role was to protect her, shelter her. He might not be Mr. Happily-ever-after, but by damned, keeping her safe and unaware of the danger was a job he could do well.

“I’d love to, beautiful. In fact, I’d love to spend a lot more time with you today, especially since you probably have to return to work tomorrow.”

If he hadn’t managed to solve this by tomorrow morning, no fucking way was she stepping foot outside this house without him. He’d think of something to keep her near him.

“Actually, I’ve got next week off for fall break. I’ve been looking forward to this time to finish unpacking my boxes and get my garden ready for the winter before the weather turns cold. I have a feeling this Florida girl might find the chillier winter here a bit of a shock.” She popped a bite of egg into her mouth and moaned. “I don’t even know if this is good, but I’m so hungry, I’ll say it’s delicious. Aren’t you going to eat?”

He plopped down beside her, relieved as hell. She was off for another week. With any luck, he’d have this wrapped up pronto. After that . . . well, he’d have to decide what came next. Somehow, he didn’t picture wanting to walk away from her. Which meant that someday he was going to have to come clean about his lies and pray she didn’t hate him.

Plucking the toast off the plate, he took a bite and washed it down with juice. The shit wasn’t half bad. Nice to know he hadn’t poisoned her with his lousy cooking.

He hoped his next lie went over half as well . . .

“Well, as soon as I move my stuff from the Santiagos’s place into a motel, I’ll come back and take you to dinner. How’s that?”

“Sure.” She frowned. “Why aren’t you going to stay with your friends?”

“They’re newlyweds, and I’m in their way. I need to find a place of my own since it looks like they might put roots down here for a while. While I look, there’s a motel down the road . . .” He rattled off the name of a flea-infested, rent-by-the-hour place he’d passed a few times.

Rachel looked appropriately horrified. “That’s murder central. I haven’t been in Lafayette that long, but it’s mentioned all the time on the news. Lots of body bags.”

“Really?” He shrugged. “I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”

“Why not somewhere else? There are much better places . . .”

“If there’s a bed and a shower, that’s all that matters to me. It’s just for a few days, tops.”

Biting her lip, Rachel looked at him uncertainly. “Why don’t you stay with me until then? No pressure,” she blurted. “I’ll understand if you say no. You might feel awkward, but—”

“I’d like that. If you’re going to be free, I want to be here with you. I like waking up next to you, beautiful.”

She’d taken the bait well. Now, he could settle in and investigate. If he had to wait out this fucker for a few days, he didn’t have to let her out of his sight. It was perfect.

Rachel took his hand. “That settles it, then. Do you need to grab anything from the Santiagos’s place?”

“Yeah. It won’t take long. I’ll take you to lunch . . . then we can see about working off all those brownie points.”

And somewhere in the middle of that, he was going to have to figure out a plan of attack. It wasn’t acceptable that he didn’t know who was trying to kill his woman. Decker meant to solve that fast.

• • •

AN HOUR LATER, they’d finished their meager breakfast, showered, then straddled the back of his motorcycle. Rachel had been adorably anxious about riding one. Apparently, he’d be responsible for another first for her. That made Decker smile.

She’d relaxed quickly, learned to lean into the turns with him gently, and stay fluid the rest of the time. It felt right having her behind him with her arms wrapped around his middle and her cheek between his shoulder blades.

It didn’t take too long to cross town on a lazy Sunday before noon. The new day was still in its golden infancy, shining through the branches of the green trees that Decker suspected would soon lose their leaves to the coming winter. Though the town’s population was well over 100,000 people, it functioned a lot like a small town. It was both typically Southern and possessed an interesting, laid-back charm.

Rachel seemed at home here, too.

Wondering where the hell his head was when it should be on the fucker who wanted her dead, he focused, coming up with a rough plan as the bike ate up the couple of miles of road to his destination.

A few minutes later, they pulled up in front of the sprawling house the Santiagos were renting until their own was built. He had a key for security purposes, and his stuff was in the guesthouse out back, but for this ruse to fly, he needed to put on a show. And he needed the guys to play along.

As he stepped off the bike, Rachel did the same, tugging off his helmet and trying to finger-comb her hair back into something less tangled. While that occupied her, he surreptitiously pulled his phone from his pocket and sent Xander a quick text.

Here. Play along. Got plan.

Then he headed for the door. Halfway up the stairs, Xander sent a reply text with his agreement. Then Decker was ringing the doorbell. To his surprise, it wasn’t his longtime boss and friend who opened the door, but the wife he shared with his brother. London smiled and glowed, pale hair framing her angelic face, her plump cheeks rosy. She wore a loose-fitting blue cotton shirt that hid any baby bump she might have and matching polka-dotted pajama pants. He was pretty sure that was the most clothing London had worn in the house since their wedding.

“Morning, Decker. Come in,” she greeted warmly.

He hesitated in the doorway. “Am I interrupting anything?”

“That was earlier, when you called, asshole,” Xander quipped as he approached, wearing hastily donned jeans and a collared shirt inside out. Standing behind London, he planted a kiss on the back of her neck.

“Stop giving him a hard time and let him in,” Javier called, suddenly coming around the hall from the bedroom and stepping into view. The elder brother wore a gray bathrobe and probably not a damn stitch more. A morning shadow covered his lean cheeks and cleft chin, but no missing the relaxed mien full of lazy satiation. “He didn’t actually come by while we were busy, so give him credit for that.”

Decker smiled. This couldn’t be more perfect if he’d scripted it.

When London and Xander stepped back, Decker entered, holding Rachel’s hand and bringing her with him into the airy, barrel-ceilinged foyer of the elaborate house.

As the door shut behind them, Decker grinned. “Thanks for getting out of bed for me. I’m going to get my things and vacate, like I promised.” He tugged on Rachel’s arm and brought her to his side. “Gang, this is Rachel Linden.”

The Santiago brothers both said a polite hello and shook her hand. London stepped forward with a smile and wrapped her arms around Rachel. “I hope you don’t mind. I’m a hugger.”

Sweet as always, Rachel hugged back. “Not at all. Me, too. It’s great to meet you.”

“Likewise. Have you lived here long?”

“Just a few months.”

London gave a little squeal. “Same here. We should have lunch soon and talk about places to shop. I’m still making friends in town. I’ve only got a few, and I’d like to get out before I get too big with the baby . . .”

“You need others besides us, little one?” Javier murmured in her ear, teasing. “I’m hurt.”

“You’re not very good at girl talk, Javi.” She tsked. “Xander is even worse.”

Javier looked displeased. “I don’t know whether to be happy that you think I’m better than Xander at anything or annoyed that you find me a better representation of female companionship.”

“Blow it out your ass, brother.” Xander grinned, then turned back to Decker.

Everyone drifted to the living room. London sat in the middle of the sofa, and the brothers took their respective places on either side of her. Javier’s hand tousled their wife’s long, loose hair. Xander’s hand dropped to her thigh. Decker risked a glance at Rachel on the loveseat beside him. She looked both a bit shocked and envious, and it occurred to him that she deserved to feel as desired and adored as London. Could he fulfill that need for her?

“Coffee for either of you?” the blushing blonde asked, trying really hard not to be affected by her husbands’ touches and failing more than not.

“No, thanks,” Rachel replied.

“None for me,” seconded Decker. “We won’t stay long. I’ll just grab my things . . . Rachel has been kind enough to let me crash with her for a few days while I find a place of my own, so I won’t interrupt your newly wedded bliss anymore.”

London flushed, and when Xander laughed, she nudged her elbow right into his stomach. “We love having company . . .”

“You don’t have to be polite, belleza. It’s always nice to see you. It’s even nicer to see you leave so Javi and I can be naked with our wife,” Xander snickered.

Decker laughed. “You’re an asshole.”

Xander looked like he could care less.

Shaking his head, Decker turned to Rachel. “Will you be all right here if I gather my stuff? Shouldn’t take long.”

“Sure.” She sent him a reassuring smile.

He squeezed her hand, then rose, sending Xander a look. His pal followed. Decker heard the girls talking animatedly and glanced back to see Javier watching them with a doting expression. Rachel would be fine here. Unless the bastard who’d hired out her murder was watching her day and night, he would have no idea where she was. Javi would keep her safe.

“What the hell is going on?” Xander muttered in his ear.

“I gave her a sob story about being in your way and needing another place to hang for a few days so I could look for some digs of my own. I can’t think of another ruse that will keep me with her twenty-four/seven. I’m almost sure that Rachel’s ex-husband isn’t the one trying to off her. I think he’s too clueless to hire a killer. I’ve got no other suspects, and I don’t like the way any of this smells.”

Xander appeared to mull his words, then nodded. “I can see that. And she has no other enemies?”

“Not that she knows of, according to her.”

“Think she’s being dishonest?”

They reached the guesthouse out back that Decker had been using, and he started gathering his toiletries from the granite vanity and shoving them into his duffel. “No. She can’t lie worth a damn.”

“Then she’s not paying attention?”

“More like she could never imagine that.” Decker gathered a pair of jeans and a jacket from the back of the chair in the corner and tossed them into his bag. “She gives everyone the benefit of the doubt. Her ex was a douche bag of massive proportions to her for years, and she still tried to make excuses for him and see his best. She’s really . . . fucking sweet.”

“You like this girl.” Xander cocked his head and stared, looking oddly gratified by his observation.

Decker looked down and focused on his duffel’s zipper, then paused. Why deny it? “Yeah. The first time I saw her picture, it was like an uppercut to the stomach. She just manages to tug at me in a way I don’t understand.”

“Ever been in love?”

“No.”

“That’s why you don’t understand it. Love is a sneaky bitch. One minute your life is normal. The next you’re mooning over a woman who’s just mowed you down, like some tornado you didn’t see coming. She’s suddenly the center of your thoughts, and you don’t know how it happened. It’s a short trip from there to her becoming the center of your universe.”

“I met Rachel less than eighteen hours ago.” But hadn’t he already been thinking about a future with her?

Xander shrugged. “I knew London about, oh, thirty minutes when I started to think she might be the one. Javi said it was about five minutes for him. There was just an instant click.”

That made sense to Decker now. Twenty-four hours ago, he would have thought Xander was insane. “Damn.”

“When you know, you just know. I’ve seen you with a lot of women—mostly bimbos—over the years. She’s not your usual speed. You seem more . . . settled around her.”

He scowled. “Just because you’re married doesn’t mean the rest of the world wants to be.”

“You’ve never been the kind to bury your head in the sand. Don’t start now.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Xander leaned into his face. “I’ve never seen you stick your neck out this far for anyone. I mean, I paid you for years to get me out of scrapes.”

“I’m damn good at it, too.”

“The best, which is why Javi and I hired you to help with the company’s security. But you wanting to protect Rachel, taking days and days to do it, practically moving in with her . . . I know damn well it’s not a platonic situation. In the past, you were always a blow-and-go kind of guy. Once the orgasm was over, you were pretty much done and gone.”

How was that for an unvarnished truth? Pretty exact. Decker had gone through most of his life not making too many connections or calling anyplace home. The curse of the military brat. It had carried over into adulthood. But now, he had the oddest desire to plant roots and grow them. He didn’t want to be alone anymore. No, that wasn’t it. Being with Rachel appealed to him, even more than he would have thought. What if he made her his, had someone to come home to every day, got married and started a family?

Decker didn’t hate the idea. And that just about floored him.

“Maybe . . . things have changed,” he acknowledged.

Xander grinned. “I knew it! One look at you and—”

“But it’s not that simple, Xander. I’m just a fling for her.” And didn’t that suck? “Rachel thinks I’ll be gone in a few days, tops. I doubt she’ll miss me when I’ve gone. She’s only been divorced about fourteen months. She may not be ready to hear that I’m . . . falling in love.”

“She has feelings for you. It’s all over her face.”

“And when she finds out I lied to her about almost everything?”

“She’ll forgive you.” Xander clapped him on the back. “Dude, you’re trying to save her life and preserve her peace of mind.”

Yes, but would she believe that he’d wanted her for her and not just because he’d been playing the hero or fulfilling a responsibility?

“If I haven’t solved this by Tuesday night, I’m going to have to tell her that someone wants her dead, that I picked her up for a reason . . . everything. I don’t want to scare her, but I need to come clean with her. I’d just rather do it once I know she’s safe.” He blew out a ragged breath. “I don’t want to lose her.”

“Sounds smart. Who are your other suspects? What’s your plan?”

“Some ideas have been brewing in the back of my head. I need to look into her neighbors and friends, just to make sure there’s no one I should zoom in on. Her ex might not have been the one to hire me, but my gut tells me the whole damn mess has something to do with him. I’ve just got to prove it.”

“Can I help?”

“Occupy Rachel for a few minutes and let me borrow a laptop.”

“Sure. I’ll shut you up in my office at the back of the house for a bit.”

Decker lifted his duffel, nerves biting his belly. “Perfect.”

Xander shut him into the room lined with bookshelves. A sleek laptop sat in the middle of the leather-topped monstrosity. He tried not to think that the guy had probably done the nasty with his wife here more than once and focus on his task.

A few clicks of his computer later proved that her friend Shonda had neither the money nor the motive to want Rachel dead. The woman had four hundred dollars in checking, and her rent was past due. Shonda never had so much as a parking ticket, and she’d been named teacher of the year at Magnolia Elementary last year. Saturday at noon, she’d been working on a Habitat for Humanity project about forty miles away. And the woman’s brother was still in the hospital. Decker scratched her off the list of suspects.

He looked into her neighbors. The house next door to her on the east had actually been vacant for the last six weeks. On the other side lived Brian Boone, a man who traveled for a living. His girlfriend either lived there or took care of the place while he was gone because she always signed for his deliveries. According to Brian’s credit card statement, he’d just dropped a hefty sum at a jewelry store Friday afternoon, then sprung for a fancy French dinner last night. Twenty bucks said the guy was engaged now. Happy people didn’t usually solicit murder, especially in the middle of popping the question. Decker removed him from the list, too.

A quick scan of all the occupants on her street and the rest of her coworkers didn’t turn up a single red flag. And this wasn’t some random psycho killer. They usually wanted to do their own dirty work just for the thrill.

So he came back to Owen. Her ex seemed like the sort of guy who didn’t want to get his hands dirty. If he was so worried about repairing his relationship, why would he bother with Rachel? Did it have something to do with that expired marriage license?

That was it. He needed to talk to Owen, man to professor, and find out what the hell was going on. While he was at it, he should meet Carly, too. Men were far more likely to murder than women, but hiring the work out was definitely a female’s style. She might consider an assassin something like a life adjustment handyman.

But in order to talk to the struggling lovebirds, he would have to leave Rachel. Damn it.

With a sigh, he cleared the computer’s cache, shut the lid, and picked up the duffel. A rough plan formed in his head. He’d no more stepped into the living room when the group shot his plan to hell.

“I’d like that,” Decker heard Rachel say. “Tomorrow would be great.”

“You’ll like my friend Delaney. She’s really kind. Just slap me if we get too deep into the baby talk. She’s been through this twice, and I’m still trying to figure out what’s going on with my body.”

“Tomorrow for what?” Decker barked.

Rachel welcomed him back with a smile. “London asked me to meet her and her friend for lunch.”

He didn’t like it, but to balk might make him look controlling. Or force him to explain now. Decker took a deep breath. Rachel would be with two other women in a public place. As far as the guy who wanted her dead indicated, the job didn’t have to be complete until probably the day after tomorrow. A little breathing room. Decker vowed to take precautions and do everything possible to keep her safe.

He forced a smile. “That’s awesome. I’m sure you’ll have a great time.”

But the outing bugged the hell out of him over their early dinner. His fear for her caused him to reach for her three times during the night to make love to her, each time successively more possessive than the last. While she slept, he swiped her iCloud password and downloaded an app that allowed him to track her phone. Anxiety made him pull her into his lap over breakfast so he could hold her close. That same niggling worry urged him to hold her tight as they were walking out the door. He escorted her to her car and watched her drive off. Decker figured that she’d get angry or suspicious if he stalked her the three blocks to the restaurant. The roads were public. She’d be fine; he had to believe that.

Straddling his Ducati, he made his way over to Carly’s older brother’s place. Christian Adams, age thirty, hadn’t been hard to track down. He was an auto mechanic with no priors. Divorced two years ago. No kids. Ho hum. Hopefully, Owen, Carly, and this dude would all be at his house, packing up and getting ready to head to the airport.

When Decker pulled up in front of the place, it looked spotless and well kept, if a bit older. Mature trees swept over the roof in the breeze. A big dog napped on the front porch.

A minute after he rang the bell, a short brunette with tousled dark hair, kind blue eyes behind a pair of studious glasses, and a kindly inquisitive expression answered the door. She wore a little sundress that hung off one shoulder and suggested that she’d donned it hastily. No evidence of a bra.

Decker’s first impression was that this woman would never stoop to murder. Her capable, open air told him she’d rather deal with a situation head on.

“Hi. Is Owen here? I’d like to talk to him.”

She turned wary. “You are . . . ?”

“Decker.” He put out his hand. “I’m his ex-wife’s . . . boyfriend.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widened as if startled. “I . . . yeah. He told me about you.”

So he’d made an impression on Owen. Nifty.

“Are you Carly?” he asked.

“I am.”

No doubt from Carly’s tone, she was really confused about his reason for being here. In truth, he was now, too. If Owen hadn’t wanted Rachel dead enough to hire him, and Carly wasn’t that kind of woman . . . who did that leave? A few more questions, then he’d have to move on, turn his head inside out, and dig deeper to figure out who might want Rachel on a morgue slab.

“Nice to meet you.” He stuck his hand out.

She took it. “Same to you. Is something wrong?”

Decker shrugged. “Just like to make sure Owen and I don’t have any problem.”

He had no burning urge to get along with Rachel’s ex, but women usually understood everyone wanting to make nice. So he smiled and waited for her to play along.

He was surprised when she blushed. “I don’t know what you and Rachel said to Owen, but he’s been expressive and, um . . . really affectionate since he came back.”

“That’s good to hear.” Decker smiled faintly. Nice to know that the good professor had listened and understood.

Carly led him into a little den and picked up a few dirty glasses on the table—then swiped a pair of her panties from the floor and shoved them behind her back pocket with an even deeper flush. “I should thank you, in fact. He told me that Rachel didn’t say much, but that you really set him straight.”

Which told Decker that the professor had gotten somewhere between frisky and freaky with his girl in the last few hours, and that she was really pleased.

“He seemed distraught.”

Setting the dirty glasses in the adjacent kitchen, she rushed back to the den. “We’ve had a rough time lately. We were going to get married a few weeks ago, actually. I didn’t plan anything elaborate, just a small ceremony at the Justice of the Peace. I think . . . I knew I wouldn’t go through with it. I kept thinking that it takes two to tango, and Owen couldn’t tell me why Rachel left him. Somehow, I just knew it was important that he understand. I think now he does. And I’m so glad.” She winced. “Sorry to ramble. You don’t know me from anyone, and I’m blurting out my personal life to you. Bad habit. Do you want something to drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“Let me go back and find Owen. I think he’s . . .” She blushed again. “I’ll be back.”

So Owen had been enjoying his postcoital nap when Decker had knocked on the door. Nice.

As Carly disappeared into the bedroom, Decker contemplated what the hell he could say to Rachel’s ex. What if this was the dead end he suspected? Yeah, he supposed it was possible that Owen had been enraged that Carly had put a stop to their first wedding because of what she perceived to be unresolved issues with Rachel. But Owen really didn’t seem like the sort to deal with anger via violence. With logic and scientific theory? Absolutely.

What the hell was he going to do next? Talk to Rachel. Why wait until Tuesday? He had to tell her everything now—and tell her that he loved her. Let the chips fall where they may. Decker raked a hand through his hair and rose, pacing the small room. He didn’t know exactly when he’d lost his heart. Probably when she’d laughed at his really terrible pick-up lines. He only knew that he couldn’t lose her now.

He was about to bolt for the front door when he spotted a framed photo on the wall. Obviously taken a few years ago, Carly stood in a red cap and gown, smiling wide as she held her college degree. Beside her, her parents stood, smiling proudly. But none of that caught his eye. It was the man hovering just behind her.

Carly bopped back into the room. “Owen will be out in a minute.”

The toilet flushed, and the sound faded into the background. Decker’s world narrowed and his heartbeat roared as he stared at the photo. “Who’s this in the picture with you and your parents?”

“My brother Christian. Why?”

Decker’s blood ran cold. “Where is he now?”

She shrugged. “Um, he said something about putting in a few hours at his shop before taking us to the airport.”

Monday. Yeah, the guy would be at work. That fit. Decker breathed a sigh of relief because he knew now that Christian Adams had been the man who hired him to commit murder. And the asshole was occupied on the job and out of Rachel’s path. No reason to think that if he wanted to hire a killer, he’d go do the work himself.

“Does your brother like Owen?”

“He’s been reserved so far, but I think he’ll come around now.” She nodded. “Christian was pretty pissed when I called the wedding off, and I know he thought Owen was still hung up on Rachel. He just wants what’s best for me, especially since our parents passed away. But Owen and I are going to be so much better now. We decided today to plan another wedding, a big one, next summer.”

Good. It would be awkward with big brother in prison, because Decker intended to nail this asshole to the wall and make him pay for ever thinking about hurting Rachel. But no need to clue Carly in on that now.

“Congratulations.” Decker opened his mouth to excuse himself when his phone buzzed. It was Xander.

911. London says Rachel never showed for lunch. Is she with you?

The text made his world stop on its axis.

“I’ve got to go.”

Decker didn’t wait for Carly’s reply, just ran for the door. He tapped out Rachel’s iCloud password to track her phone. She should have been at the restaurant twenty minutes ago, and the location of her phone indicated that she was home. Fear stabbed his heart.

Dear God, let her be safe.

He hopped onto his bike, Carly chasing him, and called 911. After sending the police to Rachel’s house, he shoved his helmet on with shaking hands. Revving the motor and racing down the street, Decker prayed that he wasn’t too late.

EIGHT

AT THE FIRST STOPLIGHT AWAY FROM HER PLACE, RACHEL reached over for her phone to text London that she was on her way. As she dug through her purse, she remembered leaving it on the kitchen counter to charge. With a sigh, she made a U-turn as soon as the light changed to green, then headed back to her house to grab it—just in case Decker called. Yes, he’d said he’d be back after lunch. She hoped he meant it because she wasn’t ready to be without him.

Gosh, she sounded awfully attached . . . and maybe a bit in love.

Wrestling with the realization, Rachel let herself in absently and headed to the kitchen, pulling her phone from the power cord.

Suddenly, Val hissed low and loud, then let loose a cantankerous meow, snagging her attention. When she turned to find out what was troubling her high-strung feline, Rachel discovered a man of average height and build standing in her foyer with grease under his fingernails, a determined look in his eyes . . .

And a gun pointed at her head.

She froze with terror. Her brain told her to scream, but the moment was like a bad dream. She felt pinned, immobile. Useless.

Her assailant trekked closer, keeping both hands on the pistol and the barrel trained right between her eyes.

“No. Please.” She hated whining pitifully, but it was instinct. “Don’t.”

Who was he? What did he want? How could she get out of this mess? A thousand thoughts flew through her brain.

“Shut up,” he snarled, his dark, unkempt hair falling limply into his face. He wore mechanics’ coveralls that proclaimed his name was Chris and an icy expression full of murder.

“M-my wallet is out in my car. You can have—”

“I don’t want your money, bitch. I want you dead.” He spotted the phone in her hand, then nodded at it. “Put that down and step away.”

She shook so hard that as she reached toward the counter, the phone rattled out of her hand and skittered across the slick tile, plopping into the sink with a thunk that jolted her nerves. Though he wanted her to, Rachel couldn’t bring herself to actually come closer to the violent stranger in her house. He stood between her and the front door. He’d get multiple unobstructed shots off if she tried to dart down the hall or toward the patio. He blocked her path to the front. The only place to step was deeper into the kitchen.

Rachel trembled as she veered two deep lunges into the narrow galley, near the sink and cutting boards.

And the knives.

Mercy, could she be brave enough to grab one and defend herself?

If it means the difference between life and death . . .

Good point.

“W-what do you want with me? Why kill me?”

He crept closer, still aiming that gun at her. “You’re in the way of my sister’s future, slut. She and her fiancé can’t be happy because of you.”

“I don’t know who you mean.” She shook her head. “You have me confused with someone else. I’m not involved with anyone—” Except Decker. Was he secretly engaged?

The man rubbed a greasy hand across his cheek. “Maybe you’re not involved with him anymore, but Carly called off the wedding because she was sure that the professor was still hung up on you. My sister has been through a hell of a lot, losing our parents in the last year. If your sniveling ex-husband makes her happy, I’m going to make sure she gets him. That means you’re going to die.”

Understanding dawned with terrible clarity. Rachel’s heart stuttered, and she shook her head frantically. “You’re wrong. Owen isn’t hung up on me. He loves your sister. He came to see me yesterday and told me how much he wants to make Carly happy. I don’t want him back, and he doesn’t want me either, I swear! You don’t have to shoot me.”

“My sister was worried enough a few weeks ago to call off their wedding. If you’re not around . . . problem solved.”

“Owen wants to marry Carly,” she insisted. “And I’m in love with someone else.”

Her attacker sent her a snide grin. “That slick guy with the sunglasses and the leather jacket? The one who’s been in your bed since Saturday night?” He snorted. “You really are a dumb bitch. I hired him to kill you.”

This time, Rachel’s heart stopped altogether. “What?”

No way could she have heard that right.

Chris nodded. “I gave him twenty-five grand on Saturday to have you dead quick. But I’ve been watching. I guess he wanted to fuck you before he killed you. I can’t wait on him anymore. If you want something done right, you’ve got to do it yourself.”

Rachel almost couldn’t process his words. Patient, passionate Decker was a contract killer? His rough-around-the-edges demeanor didn’t hide a tender heart, but a brutal one? He’d intended all along to watch her gasp her last breath?

Her first instinct was to refuse to believe it. No way. Decker wasn’t violent. He was protective and would never hurt her. He had feelings for her, didn’t he? She would have sworn that he did.

Why was he so persistent about picking you up in the bar Saturday night? Other women were looking at him. Younger, prettier ones. More experienced ones. You wondered at the time why he focused on you. This would explain it . . .

But she’d believed that whatever he felt was real. She would have bet her life on it.

Apparently she had . . . and she’d lost.

Betrayal gashed open her chest. She felt so damn alone and frightened. Decker had seduced her, intending all along to off her? For a brief second, she closed her eyes, but when she tried to imagine him hurting her in any way, she only saw his face, his understanding, his encouragement, his blue eyes filled with caring.

It didn’t add up. He’d had a hundred opportunities to kill her. He could have done it in her sleep. He could have poisoned her when he brought her breakfast. And why would he have introduced her to his friends or let her go to lunch with London if he just wanted her six feet under? Granted, she didn’t really know everything about Decker, but she’d been sure that she had felt his heart. It had been big and kind and caring. It had called to her own.

The click, the connection, the depth of her feelings . . . She refused to believe it was all a lie. He’d shown her pleasure and consideration. Affection even. Why do that, only to kill her? Before Decker she would have never believed that she was sexy enough or special enough for him, but he’d made her see something different in herself, in her heart.

Rachel refused to doubt her feelings for another minute. Maybe this psycho had mistaken Decker’s identity. Maybe he’d been watching her and lied about Decker’s intentions to throw her off her game. Heck, maybe ol’ Chris was just insane. Whatever the problem, it was on him. Decker wouldn’t kill her.

But he also wasn’t here, so if she was going to make it through this encounter, it was up to her now. She had to talk this guy off the crazy train and fend for herself somehow, because she wasn’t ready to die.

“I-I’ll cut off all contact with Owen. I’ll change my number. I’ll move and not leave a forwarding address, if you want.”

But the gunman was already shaking his head. “You moved out once. That didn’t pry you from his mind. In fact, not being able to find you might only make him obsess more. But knowing that you’re totally beyond his reach . . . Then he’ll have to move on. And my sister will be there for him. They can finally get married and she can be fucking happy. But Carly and Owen are flying home tonight.” He glanced at the clock on the oven wall. “In fact, I’ve got to be back at my place to take them to the airport in less than an hour. By the time they land, I want her to know that she has Owen all to herself.”

And he intended to leave her lying lifeless in a pool of her own blood, staining the white tile of her kitchen floor. No way was she going to let that happen.

Rachel swallowed, gathering her courage. Then she jumped him with a growl, shoving him back toward the foyer with all her might.

He went careening back, flailing and trying to catch his balance. He reached out to brace for his inevitable fall. The pistol fell from his grip, clattering to the hardwood floor beneath him and sliding all the way to the front door as he landed on his butt with a thud.

She didn’t wait for him to get his bearings, but darted back into the kitchen and grabbed her biggest knife—a huge, serrated sucker. For insurance, she grabbed the paring knife, too, and held it down by her thigh.

When he jumped to his feet and charged toward her with murder narrowing his menacing eyes and his large hands outstretched like he meant to strangle her, she was ready. Rachel knew that once he got his hands around her neck, he was too strong, and she’d be done for. She’d never see her family or friends again. Mercy, her mother . . . She’d miss Thanksgiving, Christmas, Shonda’s wedding. She’d never know her future, her children, or see old age. She would never be able to tell Decker that she loved him.

Oh hell no!

As the criminal came closer, she raced toward him again, big knife stretched over her head. Rachel didn’t think she could kill him. She wasn’t sure she would be able to live with that, no matter how terrible he was. The idea of sinking this into his chest made her wince inwardly—but he didn’t need to know that.

She darted closer, and as she expected, her assailant grabbed her wrist and tried to wrest the knife from her grip. She only had seconds and one chance to surprise him. No way was she going to screw this up.

While he clamped down on her wrist, trying to make her release the wicked blade, Rachel drove the paring knife into his thigh, seriously close to his groin. She hoped she at least nicked something vital.

He screamed and dropped his grip from the wrist above her head, cupping his leg protectively. “Bitch! I won’t give you an opportunity to cut me again.”

Blood dripped from the little knife and onto her fingers, onto the floor. Rachel watched in horror as he managed to hobble away and went after his gun. She was either going to have to chase him and finish him off . . . or let him shoot her dead.

She swallowed. Her heart thrummed, and fear laced her veins with ice. Her skin felt tight. Her thoughts raced. Why couldn’t he just leave this alone? She could try to pick up her phone and call the police, but she’d barely finish giving the 911 operator her address before he’d be back with his gun to shoot her. Same if she tried to dart out the back door to freedom.

No choice. She was going to have to hunt him down and snuff him out before he did the same to her.

Steeling herself, she gripped both knives and rounded the corner from the kitchen, into the long walkway to the foyer.

The thug stood there, frozen and bleeding.

In front of him, Decker stood, legs akimbo, arms outstretched, a gun in each hand. “Don’t move a muscle, motherfucker. If you even twitch, it will give me a lot of pleasure to put a bullet in your miserable brain.”

• • •

WELL AFTER THE police had taken Christian Adams away in handcuffs for a trip to the hospital to get some stitches, Rachel sat, drinking a cup of coffee for warmth. She was fully covered, but she felt chilled to the bone. An EMT had wrapped a blanket around her after he’d checked her out and doctored a cut on her finger. He’d cautioned her about some bruising and given her something for her headache.

She had stabbed a man. In self-defense, yes. In her spinning thoughts, the moments slowed and replayed in an endless loop. More than once since, she’d tried to wash the blood from her hands, but she swore she could feel it seeping into her pores. Christian Adams hadn’t given her a choice. He would have killed her if she hadn’t fought back. That knowledge gave her peace of a sort. She’d finish reconciling it all later.

In the interim, the police had taken her statement. They’d taken Decker to the back of the house to get his separately, and she hadn’t seen him for hours. Carly and Owen had come. Who’d called them or why, she had no clue. But her ex-husband’s fiancée had been absolutely horrified at what her brother had attempted. The woman’s pleading apologies ran through Rachel’s brain. But nothing sank in. Vaguely, she recognized that Owen had stepped up for Carly and now seemed like the man she needed. He promised her they’d get through this together and have a big wedding whenever she was ready. The way Owen had looked at Carly, like she was his moon and stars, had made her really happy for the couple. She wished them well. It wasn’t Carly’s fault that Christian had taken it upon himself to think killing his sister’s man’s ex-wife was a good idea. Rachel hoped that Owen and his fiancée could live happily ever after now, despite the jail time Christian had coming. Someone should be happy.

The hope that it might be her looked increasingly dim.

The police told her that Christian had, in fact, hired Decker to kill her. They found the twenty-five thousand dollars and the number of a disposable phone Christian had purchased when they searched Decker’s belongings. In her head, she knew that must mean everything between them had been a lie. He had likely conned her, and she’d eaten up every morsel of the bait. She would just need time to recover, get over her anger, grieve. Maybe a decade or two would be long enough to forget him.

The problem was, her own stupid heart insisted that what they’d shared was real. Even if Decker hadn’t been completely honest, somewhere in the midst of his ruse, she’d seen his heart, how good and kind and genuine he could be.

“You all right?” a woman’s gentle voice asked behind her. Rachel turned to find London standing at her back, her pale hair loose over her slender shoulders. London draped an arm around her with a face full of soft empathy.

Rachel wanted to crawl into a corner and lick her wounds, even as the thought pissed her off. Where the hell was Decker so she could at least have a good scream at him? How dare he lie to her and hurt her?

“I’ll be fine,” Rachel murmured, hoping that her fibbing wasn’t too obvious. “You don’t need to be concerned about Decker’s sham. I’m sure you had nothing to do with it.”

“It’s not what you think,” Xander insisted a moment later, hovering protectively beside his wife. “He never had any intention of hurting you.”

Rachel ached to believe him. But her head kept telling her heart to stop being so damn naïve. “With all the evidence to the contrary, that’s hard to buy.”

Yet somehow, she sat there, waiting for Decker to emerge from his interrogation so she could catch a glimpse of him, wait for him to say something to her. She yearned to believe that she’d know the truth by seeing it on his face, but . . . that was another foolish notion.

Or she’d settle for someone delivering the punch line to this really awful joke. Everything seemed surreal.

“Honey . . .” London moved closer to hug her, and Rachel felt the smallest swell of the other woman’s baby bump. A little jolt of envy pierced her.

She’d probably never feel a child growing in her body. Quickly on her way to thirty, divorced once, and then deceived by the man she’d probably always regard as the love of her life, she didn’t see motherhood in her future. And she didn’t want to swing a third strike. Maybe she was just meant to be alone. Or she should try devoting the rest of her days to a cause she could be passionate about and get lost in.

Of course nothing would ever give her the kind of mind-bending passion Decker had. Or would make her feel as special. She’d always want to believe all the wonderful words he’d spoken to her, all the pleasure he’d heaped on her, but Rachel feared nothing and no one would ever fill the void he was leaving behind in her life.

Good gravy, she sounded maudlin and woe-is-me. Because she loved Decker and knew that no other man would do. Somehow in the span of a few golden hours, she’d ended up surrendering her heart to him.

“I’ll be all right.” She stood and hugged London. “It’ll just take time.”

The pity in the woman’s blue eyes made her heart lurch. Xander hovered nearby, his face grim.

“Don’t give up on him yet. He’s really a good guy,” London murmured.

“He cares a lot about you,” Xander swore.

Maybe. Maybe not. She didn’t know what to think anymore.

With another hug and a squeeze of her hand, London left, clinging to Xander’s arm and promising to call next week. She waved them out with a wan smile, then sat staring at the wall.

As they departed, sunlight slanted through her back windows, illuminating her house in a gorgeous glow. And yet for her, the world felt as if it were coming to an end.

Seriously, she was going to have to pull herself up by her bootstraps and stop crying in her beer.

Suddenly, the EMTs came by and took the blanket. They inquired after her again, and she sent them away. There was nothing wrong with her that first aid or a trip to the ER could fix.

Shonda texted that her brother was being discharged from the hospital. Rachel sent her a smiley face back, too exhausted and dazed to manage more. She didn’t know whether thirty minutes or an eternity passed.

Finally, there was a flurry of activity at the back of her house. Men yelled. Doors shut. Someone laughed. Then a pair of uniformed officers and a detective made their way toward the front door, sparing a smile for her.

“We’ll call you if we have any other questions, but otherwise you’re free,” the detective said. “Rest up. We’ll leave a few uniforms outside so you feel safe.”

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“Thanks, guys. I’ve got it from here.”

Decker.

Rachel whipped around at the sound of his voice. He stood at the opening to the hallway, still wearing yesterday’s clothes. He hadn’t shaved. He really hadn’t slept much. And he still looked not just sexy as all get out, but so familiar and beloved that she felt her eyes tear up.

The detective nodded and shut the door behind him, closing her in the house alone with Decker.

“Why are you still here?” she asked. She didn’t want the question to come out like an accusation, but it probably did.

“Because we’re not done, you and I.” He prowled closer, closer, until he stopped right before her. “Rachel, I don’t know what Christian told you or what you believe, but if I had really wanted to kill you, beautiful, you’d be dead. I learned a thousand different ways with Delta Force and the CIA. I’ve used a fair number of them. I’m not a Boy Scout. But I would never, ever, for any reason hurt you.”

She wanted to believe him so badly . . . “So was it some sort of sting operation and you seduced me to catch a bad guy?”

“No, I really do work for Xander and Javier now. Nothing I told you was a lie. I just didn’t confess that I sought you out because, earlier on Saturday, Christian Adams approached me in a bar and mistook me for someone he’d connected with online to do a kill-for-hire job. The other guy apparently backed out, but didn’t tell Christian. When he hit me up, I thought he was joking. By the time I realized he was serious, the guy was slapping down money, your picture, and giving me a few days to finish you off. I went straight to the police. I swear it, baby. They told me I didn’t have enough evidence. So I decided to keep you safe myself. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to scare the hell out of you.” He grimaced. “And I didn’t stay out of your bed because resisting you was beyond me.”

Her first instinct was to protect herself and toss his explanation back in his face. But she took a deep breath and started turning it over in her head. She could picture Decker thinking that some guy’s “job opportunity” was a joke. If he’d actually done anything illegal, the police would have taken him into custody, so they must have absolved him of any wrongdoing. That meant . . . he probably had approached and seduced her because he’d ultimately meant to protect her. Was it that hard to believe that he’d wanted her, too?

After years of neglect at Owen’s hands? Sadly, yes.

“How much of what we shared was pretend?” Her voice was small, and she hated asking the question, but for her peace of mind, she had to know.

“Between us in bed naked, with me deep inside you?” He crouched in front of her. “Not a damn thing.”

Rachel slid her eyes shut. Her heart leapt at his words, and her mind pushed back. She hated this turmoil.

“Was I just a fling for you?” His question cut through her confusion. He sounded uncertain.

Wait. Was he actually worried that he hadn’t been meaningful to her?

She opened her eyes, falling into his blue stare, wanting to stay there forever. “No.”

“Thank fucking God.”

Before she could respond, Decker settled his arms under her knees and behind her back, then lifted her against his chest. He began to cart her down the hall.

“Wha . . . what are you doing?” she sputtered.

“Putting an end to this bullshit.”

Rachel gaped at him, her thoughts a muddle. What did he mean?

She didn’t have to wonder long.

Decker carried her into her bedroom and tossed her on the bed. On her way down, she saw his suitcase in the corner of the room, wide open. Half the contents were on the floor, as if the police really had conducted a search of his stuff.

He grabbed a few things from the little duffel and scooped them into his hand, enclosing whatever he held in his fist. She didn’t even have time to sit up and confront him about what in the heck he was doing. No, he lowered himself on top of her, tying her wrists to the slats in her headboard with two mismatched athletic socks he’d held.

“What the devil . . .” she demanded. “Decker!”

“The problem we’re having now is trust. You don’t really trust that I was protecting you from Christian. You sure as hell don’t believe I fell for you. Both are the absolute truth. Beautiful, you changed something for me.” He cupped her face. “No, you changed everything for me. If I’m not just a fling for you, and you’re mad that I lied, that has to mean that you care about me, too. Right?”

Good gravy, how could he figure her out so easily? “Bite me.”

“Love to. Where?” he grinned.

Teasing wasn’t going to work. She wasn’t going to fall for his sense of humor all over again, even if his warm body pinned her to the mattress, reminding her just how hard and built he was all over. How good he could make her feel.

Rachel just glared at him. “That is not funny.”

“No? How about this . . .” He kissed his way up her neck and murmured in her ear. “They should suspend your driver’s license because you drive me crazy.”

“Ha ha.” She was mad, damn it. And she wanted to stay mad until she decided otherwise. After the day she’d had, she deserved it.

“Still not moved? I’ll try again.” He caressed her cheek. “You must be the sun and I must be Earth, ’cause the closer we get, the hotter you get. Or maybe I should say that everything about you pulls me in.”

How was she supposed to reply to that? It was part offhand joke, part compliment. The truth was, everything about him pulled her in, too.

“You cannot give me more pick-up lines and think that’s going to make everything all better.”

“Not even a little?” He nipped at her lobe, then started unbuttoning her blouse. “Wanna fuck? Breathe for yes; lick your elbow for no.”

Seriously? With a growl, she tugged at her bonds, but Decker was good at bondage, like he was good at everything else. She wasn’t going anywhere until he decided to let her go.

“Stop it!”

But he didn’t. Once her blouse was open, he parted the sides and ran his hands down her lace-clad breasts, then up and under her back. He opened the clasp with a twist of his fingers, and the bra sagged away from her body. He pulled it loose and cupped her, thumbing her sensitive nipples.

Rachel bit back a moan. “Decker, I didn’t say yes.”

“You’re breathing, aren’t you?” He winked, then pulled a switchblade from his pocket. “Sorry. I’ll buy you a new one.”

Before she could wonder what that meant, he cut up through the straps of her bra and tossed the useless garment across the room.

“Hey!” she protested.

The only response Decker gave was to work his way down her body, pausing to kiss her nipples and stroke them with his tongue. She wanted to stay angry—really. But the way he delved into her gaze, so attentive and in tune with her, the way he touched her, like she was his everything . . .

Rachel wasn’t listening to his explanation. She’d made excuses for Owen for years, and didn’t want to be the same sort of stupid twice. On the other hand, could she let the best thing that ever happened to her walk out because she refused to have a conversation? No.

Then again, he didn’t seem to want to talk that much . . .

Suddenly, he crouched at the end of the bed and pulled her shoes off, then nipped at her toes. “I’m having a party at your feet, beautiful. I think I should invite your pants down to join.”

Despite herself, she laughed. “What if my pants are not in the mood for a party?”

Decker sent a sexy smirk her direction. “I can fix that. Wanna see?”

“What if my pants are busy?” she challenged.

“They aren’t yet, but give me ten minutes.”

“Incorrigible.” And impossible to stay mad at. “That’s what you are.”

“Yep.” He sent her a sly glare as he unfastened her pants, tugged at her zipper, then yanked the jeans down her thighs. Naturally, her panties followed, leaving her bare from the ankles up. “Is that what you’re going to tell your mama when I meet her?”

Rachel opened her mouth to answer, but he rubbed the heel of his palm right over her sweet spot. Her breath caught. Sparks and tingles zoomed right behind her clit, and she struggled to find her brain. “Why would you be meeting my mother?”

“If I’m going to stick around, I’ve got to.” He smiled softly at her . . . even as his hand played between her legs. “And believe me, I plan to be with you for a long time.”

“It’s really hard to think when you’re doing that.” She squeezed her eyes shut.

“Then don’t. Just look at me.”

The way his command caressed her, like supple velvet, had her complying. She focused on him. “What?”

“I’m not joking, and this isn’t a line. I’m your Mr. Right. I want you. I love you, Rachel. Marry me.”

She blinked up at him and sucked in a breath. Not a hint of a smile creased his face as he pulled off the last of her jeans and panties, then tore off his own clothing, donning a condom and crawling between her legs. He probed at her opening gently, then eased deep inside her in one long stroke that made her shudder with pleasure.

Of her own volition, her thighs parted. Her back arched. She moaned in welcome.

“Home is where the heart is, and mine is right here. Trust me. Believe me. Marry me.”

Rachel moved with him, tilting to take him deeper and melting into him when he wrapped his arms around her and snagged her gaze, seized her mouth, and captured her heart for good.

He took his time, working her body with unhurried strokes and questing fingers, caressing her all over, making her feel like the most beautiful, most beloved woman in the world.

“Why?” she whispered, her stare clinging to him.

“Because I’ve needed you my whole life. Roots and home and love. You’re all that for me and more. I know it’s fast, and you don’t know me well . . .” He paused to seat himself deeper and send her senses reeling with leisurely thrusts designed to steal her breath. “But I can make you love me if you’ll give me time. I’ll be your shelter, your protector, your . . . whatever you need.”

The last of her anger and fear bled out. Only Decker and his earnest gaze remained. He’d never be easy to live with. He’d probably be really unpredictable, but she needed some of that in her life.

“I do.” Rachel laid her lips across his. “Love you, that is. You made me realize how good I could feel, how sexy the right man would find me . . . the kind of caring about my feelings and my pleasure that a partner should give.” She grinned at him suddenly. “Hey, are you affiliated with Google?”

He laughed and pushed into her again, the pleasure surging, rising, about to crest. “No, I just swiped a few pick-up lines from them.”

“I don’t know, Decker . . . You have everything I’ve been searching for.”

Somehow, he smiled at her through a groan. “Is that a yes?”

Rachel rotated her hips beneath him, and felt ecstasy begin to tingle through her body. “Yes!”

The bliss exploded, and as she pulsed around Decker, he slammed into her, then let go of his restraint with a cry.

Her heart beat furiously, and she struggled for her breath. Decker barely let her drag in some air before he jumped off her, tossed away the used condom, and dragged her to her feet. “Let’s go.”

She looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Where?”

“Vegas. I don’t want to wait until even tomorrow. We’ll find a nice chapel and get married by Elvis and have something to laugh about with our grandkids.”

Rachel would have giggled . . . except that he looked dead serious.

“What about your parents?”

He shrugged. “They’ve got a big shindig for my younger sister and her fiancé coming up in a few months. We’ll send them pictures. Bet our wedding will be more fun.”

“Well, my parents . . .” What? They had seen her get married in the big white gown once. Did she really want to do all that again? No. This time was just for her and Decker. “They’ll enjoy the pictures, too.”

Decker pulled her in tight for a hug. “That’s the spirit! It’s either that or I’ll call the police and report you for stealing my heart.”

Would she ever get used to his crazy sense of humor? A whole bunch of protective male covered it and roared when she was threatened. But she loved this side of him, too. She’d thank him later for picking her up on false pretenses and lying to her to keep her safe. Let him sweat a little. In the meantime, she couldn’t wait to be his.

“Um . . .” She started giggling uncontrollably. “This is crazy! What will my last name be?”

“You still don’t know, do you? That’s awesome!”

“It’s a little irresponsible, so put me out of my misery and cough it up, Decker.”

He peered at her playfully. “Would you believe Papadopoulos?”

“Papa-doodie . . . what?” She smacked his arm. “No!”

“Pavlyuchenko?”

“No Pavlov’s dogs or whatever in this house.” She rolled her eyes. “Try again.”

“You got me. It’s Blaszczykowski.”

Rachel wrapped her arms around him and laughed. “I’m going to call the police and have you arrested for stealing my sanity.”

He gave her a juicy smack across the lips. “It’s McConnell, honest truth.”

“Much better. Do you know how difficult it would be for a bunch of fifth graders to spell Blaszczykowski?”

“I’d bet you’d get a laugh or two out of it.”

She pressed her lips together to hold in a grin. “True. I’m grabbing a suitcase, I guess. I’ll be Mrs. McConnell by tonight.”

“Yes, you will. But I’d rather just call you mine.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Shayla Black (aka Shelley Bradley) is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over thirty sizzling contemporary, erotic, paranormal, and historical romances for multiple print, electronic, and audio publishers. She lives in Texas with her husband, munchkin, and one very spoiled cat. In her “free” time, she enjoys reality TV, reading, and listening to an eclectic blend of music.

Shayla’s work has been translated into about a dozen languages. She has also received or been nominated for the Passionate Plume, the Holt Medallion, Colorado Romance Writers Award of Excellence, and the National Readers’ Choice Awards. RT Book Reviews has twice nominated her for best erotic romance of the year, as well as awarded her several Top Picks, and a K.I.S.S. Hero Award.

A writing risk taker, Shayla enjoys tackling writing challenges with every book.