I settle against the back wall of the nightclub. All corners and the entrance in view. I’m dressed in dark clothing. Concealing the tattoos that have been circling the news and Internet. I’ve changed the color of my eyes from blue to brown with contacts. My hair’s grown out enough not to match the description of me.
But here—among the other predators—I don’t have to hide.
They welcome me.
This is my hunting ground.
The beat changes. Faster. Harder. And my gaze captures the blonde entering the Blue Clover.
My whole body is lit on fire.
Like a moth to the flame, I only see her; her brightness eclipses the dark corners. The club fades away. The music a distant and muted backdrop to the loud thump pulsing in my ears. Every muscle in my body tenses. My chest aflame with a scorching ache that sears my throat; my mouth watering to taste her.
Six weeks on the run, and this is the first time I’m endangered of being caught.
She glides around the room like an immortal goddess before her worshipers. She’s a sinner and a saint; her short black skirt a tease for the senses; her angelic brown eyes circled with flecks of gold—her halo to lure you into her gauzy web with the promise of salvation.
And I am lured. Completely. She owns my entire being. Flesh and bone. My black soul belongs to her. With one look, she takes me down. If she demand
s I kneel right here, I’ll drop to my knees. Offer penance for my sins as I plead for her to devour me.
She moves closer, keeping me in her sights, and I’m clawing out of my skin to reach her. I press my back into the wall to ground myself. My shoulders ache from the pressure. I’m hard in anticipation as I watch her slender legs eat the distance between us.
With three words I come undone:
“I found you.”
My eyes close at the sound of her voice. I capture her neck and pull her to me, teasing a length of brunette hair from beneath the wig. I lower my head to her shoulder and inhale. Lilacs.
London’s petite body molds seamlessly against mine, making me whole. My other half. Two puzzle pieces sliding together. A perfect fit.
I drag my palm up her thigh, memorizing the feel of her soft skin all over again. “God, you’re real.”
Her breathy whisper teases my ear. “In the flesh.”
I burned my fortress to the ground to set her free. She’s innocent in the law’s eyes. The fire provided me time to escape, authorities burdened with the task of combing through the ashes as they sifted for my remains.
And for London? It put her above reproach. She’s a victim.
Only I know how truly lethal my psychologist is, and feeling her now, her scent swimming all around me…into my veins…I’m under her spell. She’s a seductress. Seducing me from miles away, just as she does now.
My thumb finds the beating pulse of her neck. “You did this,” I whisper harshly to her. “You brought me here.”
Her glossy lips twist into a sultry smile. “I had to.”
My heart thunders under her hand. “This is dangerous. You’re dangerous.” I’m risking everything to be here—but existence means nothing without her. I roam my hands up her body, feeling every inch of her. “No purse.”
She narrows her eyes. “No identification. Are you searching for a wire?”
I stop and pull her against me once more. “I would be stupid not to.”
“You’re paranoid.”
I smile. “Is that a diagnosis?”
“It’s a fucking observation.”
“I’m on the run from the FBI,” I say, trailing the pad of my finger across her bottom lip. She melts beneath my touch. “That tends to make one a little paranoid.”