Deadly Fear (Deadly 1)

Silence.

Then lights, bright lights came, shining right at her. Monica squinted, but didn’t lower her gun.

Darkness. She blinked, trying to adjust her eyes.

A door slammed.

“Monica!” Luke’s fierce voice. Then he was there, running for her, catching her in his arms and holding her tight. “Christ, I was worried he’d get to you first. I went to the hospital, you were already gone, and I thought—”

She couldn’t help but stay stiff in his arms. Too much between them now. “He?” She interrupted.

“The ass**le Watchman or whatever the hell they’re calling him.” His fingers tightened. “Let’s get inside. Now.”

“Luke, are you all right?”

“No,” he snapped. He let her go, just a bit, and took out his own weapon. “He jumped me. Right after you left Pete’s, he caught me in the alley—”

What? Her heart slammed into her throat. “He attacked you?” And Luke had gotten away? “Luke, what did—”

“Inside.”

Right. They shoved open the doors of the hotel and lowered their guns just as the night clerk glanced up.

Monica nodded to him and hurried past. He already knew who they were, and he also knew that the SSD agents were the only ones allowed on the third floor. That whole floor had been reserved for them as another of Hyde’s security measures.

Luke flashed his ID as they passed the clerk. The guy’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

They didn’t speak during the elevator ride. Monica glanced at Luke from the corner of her eye. He’d been attacked. She’d left him, and he’d been hurt.

Could have been killed. Then what would I have done?

She pressed her lips together to control the tremble that threatened to shake her mouth. He looked pale, the lines bracketing his mouth deeper, his jaw too tense. Her hand rose, her fingers feathering over the hard planes of his face.

The elevator chimed, and the doors slid open on their floor.

Monica dropped her hand and hurried out. She fished in her pocket for her room key. The thud of Luke’s steps told her he was following her.

She shoved her keycard in the hole. The light flashed green. When the lock snicked open, she twisted the handle and went inside.

Luke crowded in right behind her.

“Luke, tell me what happened.”

“Bastard hit me with something.” His hand lifted, his fingertips touched the back of his head. “Knocked me out.”

Could have killed him. Her knees shook.

He kicked the door closed. Turned the dead bolt. “It’s not me he wants. The ass**le was just dicking around with me.”

“We need to take you to a doctor, get you checked out—”

“He’s f**king coming after you.”

She blinked. “Then let him.” Better her than Luke.

He grabbed her, locking his fingers over her arms and pulling her against him. “Hell, no.” Then his mouth crashed onto hers. Need, lust, hunger, and fury.

She tasted it all in his kiss, knew he tasted the same on her lips. Oh, God, she wanted him.

Monica tore her mouth from his. “No, you’re hurt. We need a doctor—”

“Forget it… I’m fine.” His eyes blazed. “No one, nothing, is making me leave you.” Then he took her mouth again. Harder.

Her nails scraped down his arms. He growled and drove his tongue past her lips.

Not pity. Not revulsion.

No room for that here. He wanted her. Man to woman.

So she’d damn well take him. Take and take and take until the burning need was gone, and the pleasure was hers.

She grabbed at his shirt, sending buttons flying. They hit the floor, and she didn’t care. Didn’t care about anything right then but having him. His kiss—he still wants me.

A lover who knew her deepest secrets. A man who knew and didn’t turn away.

Or treat her like she was some kind of broken doll.

Rough, wild—that’s the way his hands were. The way she needed them to be.

The way she needed him to be.

“Strip.” Guttural. “Now.” His demand. Might as well have been hers.

Monica shuddered, needing, her sex clenching and moistening as the lust quaked through her and fired her blood.

“Ah, f**k it… can’t wait.” His hands yanked up her shirt. Tossed it on the floor. He shoved aside her bra and took her breast into his mouth, sucking deeply, swirling his tongue over her flesh and making her moan for him.

He lifted her, still with his mouth sealed tight to her flesh, and carried her to the bed with a steel grip.

Luke took her down on the mattress, raising his head so that he could lick his way to her other nipple. Strong swipes. So much hunger…

She kicked off her shoes. Raised her hips and tried to shimmy out of her pants, but—no good.

The arch of her hips just put her against the thick bulge of his cock, and his mouth became rougher. The stubble on his jaw scraped her flesh.

And she liked it.

Liked the way he took her.

Wanted more.

Her nails scratched down his chest. No good girl here. No girl who’d lay still and spread her legs and wait for the pleasure.

She wasn’t weak.

She wasn’t damaged, dammit.

She was a woman, and she wanted.

Monica’s hands found his waist. Unsnapped the button, pulled down his zipper. She took his c**k into her hands, hot and strong. Already wet along the tip.

Only fair—she was more than wet for him.

They rolled, and she took the position on top. Perfect. She worked his cock, squeezing from base to tip, pumping him, feeling the tightening of his flesh beneath her palms.

He stroked her through her pants. “I’m tasting you tonight.” Her ni**les stabbed into the air. He licked her areola, swiping with his tongue, and her breath caught. “All of you.”

She pushed up on to her knees.

The lights were on. She hadn’t really realized until then; he must have hit the lights when she came in and she hadn’t seen—

“All of you,” he said again, the words gravel rough.

He can see me. No hiding. Uncertainty had her slowing, her body tensing.

“Fuck, no.” He rose up and kissed her. “Stay with me.”

She was right there with him. Not going anywhere.

“Stay with me.” His lips took hers again. Tongue driving deep.

He had her pants off, not sure how. Her panties gone. Tossed onto the lamp.

She was on her back again. He was between her legs. She’d spread her thighs wide, open for him.