Lover Undercover (McCade Brothers 1)

“They’re fine. We’ve never established a link between the dead men and any of the other dancers.” He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but held his tongue. Instead he picked up the remote control and tapped a button that she assumed stopped the cameras, then leaned back in his chair and looked at her. A strange awareness simmered in the depths of his dark eyes.

Now her nerves rushed back, along with something else—something she didn’t want to think about. Restless, she straightened the side seams of her gray workout tights.

“Thank you for your help, Stacy.” His expression, the timbre of his voice, triggered butterfly wings in her chest.

“My pleasure.” Concerned by the weak, almost longing sound of her reply, which echoed the weak longing in her heart, she stood. Time to put some space between herself and Detective McCade.

He rose as well, and unnerved her by taking her hand. “It’s been my pleasure, actually.”

Her mind flashed back through a montage of erotic memories: Trevor watching her onstage the first night she’d danced, giving him a lap dance…the private performance. “Not entirely,” she admitted, as heat snuck into her cheeks.

She stole a glance from beneath her lashes. The raw desire she saw in his expression warmed her face even more.

“You’re a beautiful, intriguing mystery,” he said quietly. “Scrupulously honest, but clearly hiding something. An experienced exotic dancer who somehow manages to project a sweet innocence. Nothing fits.”

“I’m not trying—”

“I know you’re not. That’s the hell of it. But I’ve always loved a mystery, and damn if I can resist you.” In hypnotic slow motion, he tilted her face toward his and lowered his mouth, stopping with his lips a mere hairbreadth from hers. Her eyelids drooped. She inhaled in anticipation.

He hovered there, his warm breath feathering over her lips, while his big, strong hands moved. One cupped her neck, and the other slid down her back with an intimacy that made all the calculated eroticism she’d attempted at Deuces pale in comparison, and left her hungry for more. Desperate to satisfy the craving, she gave a tiny warning cry, then surged to her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his.

Such a simple thing, really—just lips against lips—but oh, she felt the magical electricity of it all the way to her toes. Rather than sate her hunger, the gentle kiss was like a taste of chocolate to a starving woman. She wanted, needed, couldn’t deny herself more. Her fingers threaded through his hair and held on, as if she possessed the strength to keep him in place if he decided to move. But he didn’t. He stayed absolutely still while she brushed her tingling mouth over his upper lip, with its fascinating center dip and the tiny, vulnerable little scar riding the outer edge.

When she strayed to his lower lip, captured it between hers, and slowly nibbled the irresistible curve, he groaned, low and deep. The hand at the small of her back slid lower, cupped her backside, and hauled her against him. Her breasts crushed against the warm, solid wall of his chest, and all the barriers—her workout bra, her thin T-shirt, his dress shirt—might as well have evaporated. She parted her thighs, so her soft, yielding parts aligned intimately with the hard ridge straining the fly of his gray trousers.

A subtle tightening of his hand on her butt lifted her higher. The blunt head of his erection found and pressed a pleasure button she barely knew she possessed.

She practically crawled up his body, curling her arm around his neck, wrapping her leg around his hip, arching and opening so the place he’d discovered was his for the taking.

And he took, sliding back and forth over the throbbing spot, capturing her helpless sighs deep in his mouth with a long, overpowering kiss. Heavy, luscious heat pooled between her thighs. She needed to rub them together, or rub against him, or…something, but he kept up the slow, steady stroke until she thought she might lose her mind.

A frustrated sound built in the back of her throat. Jamming the arch of her foot into his calf for leverage, she rocked her hips against him in a frantic, imprecise effort to put deeper, steadier pressure on the aching little spot he’d teased to unbearable sensitivity. “I want…I need…”

His lips found her ear. “Easy. Easy. I know what you need. Don’t worry—”

A loud knock at the door reverberated like a shot in the quite room. Her eyes jerked to his.

“Shit.” He breathed the word slowly, and reluctantly loosened his hold. “Excuse me for a moment. I have to go kill someone.”

Arms crossed, she stayed where she was, facing away from the door, while he stepped over to answer it. She recognized Ian’s voice, but was too mortified to look. One glimpse of her and she feared he’d know Trevor had held, kissed, and caressed her to the very brink of insanity. Even now her body trembled with deprivation, primed and ready and unwilling to relinquish what, seconds ago, had hovered so exquisitely close.

After a brief conversation she didn’t bother trying to follow, the door shut. Moments later Trevor rested his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry.” His breath fluttered the hair at her temple as those strong, capable hands turned her to face him. “Bad timing on my part.”

“Mine, too.” Not just the last few minutes, but the last few days. Had they met at a different time, under different circumstances, who knows what they might have meant to each other? But they’d met over lies and murder. The combination doomed their chances for something else. Trevor upheld the law. He wasn’t the kind of man who would appreciate being deceived.

It hurt, but there really was only one thing to do. Kiss him good-bye and get the heck away.

He took her hand and smiled. “Come on. I’ll walk you out.”

Her return smile felt wooden. Somehow she kept it in place as they walked to the street. The city lights glowed diamond-bright against a black velvet background of evening.

Again he took her shoulders, turned her to face him. Held her captive with those patient, perceptive eyes. “I want to see you again, Stacy, without this case between us.”

Hardest thing ever, but shook her head. “I’m sorry Trevor. I can’t. I wish I could but…” But what? I’m not who you think I am. I’ve lied to you since the moment we met. Blinking back tears, she settled on, “It’s not going to work.”

He stepped closer and she placed a restraining hand on his chest. She meant it as a distancing move. Unfortunately her fingers ruined the gesture by curling into his shirt. He cocked a brow at the mixed signal, but dropped his hands from her shoulders. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel what I feel whenever we’re together, because I won’t believe it.”

She shook her head. “Lust isn’t high on my priorities.”