Need Me (Dark Obsession 3)

Her robe had come loose a bit at the top, and he wanted to shove that robe out of the way. He wanted to put his hands on her breasts and feel her nipples against his palms.

But he kept kissing her. Hot and hard. Thrusting his tongue past her lips, and when she arched toward him, desire pounded through his veins. Her legs rose and wrapped around his hips. Her nails sank into his upper arms. She pulled him closer, and closer was exactly where he wanted to be.

His mouth slid from hers, but only so he could kiss a hot path down her neck. She shivered against him. He used the edge of his teeth, lightly scoring her flesh. Was she completely naked beneath that robe? He was going to find out. He’d strip her and then—

“Stop.”

Devlin blinked. He really, really hoped he’d misheard her.

But Julianna’s hands were pushing at him now and her legs had slid away from his hips. “Let me go, now.”

Jaw locking, he did. And Devlin stepped back so he wouldn’t give in to the urge to grab her again and pick up exactly where he’d just left off.

Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes glittered. “That was a mistake.”

His spine shot up. “You’re the one who kissed me.” And he knew exactly why she’d done it. To stop his questions. To distract him.

Consider that a successful distraction. He didn’t want to question her anymore. Fuck her? Most definitely, yes.

“It was my mistake.” She edged away from him. Her hands quickly adjusted the robe for maximum coverage. “I didn’t expect that.”

Now she had made him curious. Eyes narrowing, cock aching, temper rising, Devlin asked, “What, exactly, didn’t you expect?”

Her lashes lowered. She stopped adjusting the robe. “I didn’t expect to want you that much, not from just a kiss.”

Every muscle in his body locked down. “Baby, you should be careful saying things like that to me.”

Her lashes lifted. Her gaze met his. “It was my mistake,” she said again, and she turned for the door. “I won’t be repeating it.”

Oh, but I hope you do.

She stopped at the door, her hands on the wooden frame. “Where do I sleep tonight?’

“The guest room is down the hall. Third door on the left.”

She nodded, but then she glanced back. “And where will you be?”

“I’ll be in the room right—”

A hard pounding on his front door stopped Devlin’s words. Frowning now, he hurried toward her. His penthouse was private—for a damn good reason. He wasn’t the type to want uninvited visitors. And no one but his partners at VJS—Chance Valentine and Lex Jensen—were ever to be let up to his home without an announcement. His doormen knew that rule.

So who was pounding at his door?

“Devlin?” Julianna sounded worried. “You expecting someone?”

No, not that late. It was nearing midnight. Definitely not the time for any other guests—wanted or unwanted. Shaking his head, he hurried past her and went to the main door. He glanced through his peephole, and when he saw who was on the other side of the door, tension coiled in his body. Devlin opened the door.

Detective Faith Chestang stood on his threshold. She wore a no-nonsense suit, and her badge was clipped to her belt. Her hair was combed away from her face, and her determined expression said she meant business. Faith was an attractive woman, an African American in her early thirties, and a general force to be reckoned with.

“I tried to keep her downstairs, sir,” Peter Close, the doorman said quickly, “but—”

Faith sighed, cutting through his words. “But I’m a cop and my badge gets me in all kinds of places.” She lifted her dark brows. “It’s about to get me inside this fancy penthouse of yours right now.”

Devlin moved, blocking the entrance. “Unless you have some kind of warrant, it’s not.”

She smiled at him. He didn’t know her as well as Chance did, but Chance had told him that Faith was a good cop, one he could trust.

Devlin didn’t exactly trust many cops.

“I need to see Julianna,” Faith said flatly.

“And you think she’s here?”

Faith glanced over his shoulder. “Yes, I think she’s about five feet behind you, wearing your robe.” She gave a little whistle. “Cozy. I didn’t expect that.”

Swearing, Devlin whirled around. Sure enough, Julianna was there. What was up with the woman’s silent moving? If he didn’t know better, he would have thought she’d had some kind of special training. Chance and Lex both could take silent steps like that, to sneak up on their prey, but those guys were ex-military.

“I need you to come with me, Julianna,” Faith said.

“Why?” Devlin’s question, not Julianna’s. Julianna hadn’t moved.

“Because there’s been another murder,” Faith said, her delicate jaw hardening a bit. “And I’m afraid Julianna is tied to this one, too.”

Devlin took a step back, clearing the path so that the cop could make direct eye contact with his new client.

Faith stared at Julianna. “People sure do have a habit of dying around you.” Her gaze slanted to Devlin. “If I were you, I’d be very careful. Men who sleep with Julianna tend to wind up dead.”

Julianna surged forward. “Who’s the victim?”

Faith was watching her, the way a hungry spider might watch a fly. “Your lover.”

Julianna told me she didn’t have a lover.

“Th-that’s not possible,” Julianna said, her voice breaking. “I don’t have a lover.”

Faith gave her a long look. One that took in the robe Julianna was wearing and Julianna’s swollen, red lips. “It looks to me like you may have more than one.” Suspicion was in her drawl.

“I don’t,” Julianna hotly denied.

“That’s not what the photographs say.” Faith put her hands on her hips. “Now we can do this easy or hard. If you want me to lead you out in cuff

s—again—I can do that.”

“No.” Julianna’s voice was hushed. “Just, let me change, all right? I’ll be right back.” Then she turned and fled down the hallway.

Devlin didn’t speak until she was gone. “Who is he,” he asked, voice lethally soft, “and how did he die?”

Faith laughed, but the sound held no humor. “Seeing as how you’re supposed to be so good at investigating, I would’ve thought that you’d do a little more research on your own lovers.”

“She’s not my lover.” Not yet. But he sure wanted her.

Faith pointed at him. “Consider yourself lucky that I arrived. Men who fall for Julianna have a tendency to end up in a pool of blood.”

Not the best visual. “Who is he?” Because Julianna had seemed so sincere when she’d told him that there was no one else.

Right before she’d kissed him.

What the hell? Am I going soft? Since when did he let a pair of warm, brown eyes trick him? Obviously, she’d been trying to seduce him and stop his questions. He got that. But…

I still believed her when she said there was no one else.

Anger, this time directed at Julianna, began to simmer within him.

Faith cocked her head as she studied him. “Come down to the station and see for yourself.”

Shit. She wasn’t going to give him anything else, at least not right then. The sound of Julianna’s footsteps reached him, a fast clatter. She hurried toward the detective. “I-I need to call Sophie,” she said quickly.

Sophie Sarantos—her defense attorney.

He caught her hand. Pulled her close. To Faith, it probably looked as if he were embracing Julianna, but he wasn’t making that mistake. “Yeah, you’d fucking better, baby.” Because two dead lovers wasn’t good. “And don’t ever lie to me again.”

Her breath caught and she pulled back, just enough to look into his eyes. “I didn’t.”

He shook his head. Her breathing was too fast. Her gaze sliding away from his. And her voice trembled. All dead giveaways for deceit. “Bullshit.” But they’d deal with her lies…they’d deal with the mess of this case…as soon as he figured out just who the dead man was.