Monday was a bitch. Two cases left over from the previous DA came to a head while information came in about the weekend murders faster than he had anticipated.
Josiah navigated carefully through all of it. With staff members, he maintained a calm, laid-back facade. He asked to be copied on every report relating to the weekend activity and directed several interview requests from the press to one of the senior assistant DAs.
But when a phone call came in from Sherman & Associates, he chose to take that personally.
Russell’s deep voice boomed over the connection. “Josiah, good of you to take my call.”
“Russell.” He shut his office door. “What can I do for you?”
“I hate to bother you on a Monday, but I’ve just had some detectives here asking a lot of questions about Austin and his wife. They wanted to go through his things, but of course I had to turn them down. Like every other lawyer, Austin has privileged information in his office.” When Russell chuckled, he sounded like how Josiah imagined a toad would when it cackled. “They’ll have to come back with a warrant, I’m afraid. But I wanted to let you know, man to man, it’s nothing personal. We want to cooperate with whatever they’re investigating. We just have to follow the rules.”
Josiah swung his chair around to look out his window. Like any lawyer with magical aptitude, he had developed a highly refined truthsense. He was interested to note that Russell had told only one lie so far.
Russell had no intention of cooperating with any investigation. That meant he was calling to pump Josiah for information.
“None taken, Russell,” he replied easily. “I’m sure the detectives will return shortly with the right paperwork.”
“Do you know what’s going on? Or perhaps you know but you can’t say?”
There it was: the ask.
“You know I can’t speak about ongoing investigations…” He let his voice trail away reluctantly. “But I’m surprised the detectives didn’t tell you.”
“Tell me what? Austin’s not answering his phone, and he hasn’t shown up for work today.” Russell paused, then chuckled again. “So I tried calling his wife, but I’m not sure she’s on speaking terms with me after that party. Austin’s been miserable over the past few weeks. Between me and thee, I think she might have left him for good.”
None of that was a lie either. Josiah picked up his pen and twirled it between his fingers as he injected a note of concern into his voice. “I shouldn’t say anything, but some reports have crossed my desk this morning. Brace yourself. It’s bad.”
“For God’s sake, man. I know it’s just after lunch, but should I be drinking a scotch?”
Josiah replied gently, “This is not the kind of conversation to have over the phone. Let the detectives do their work. After they come back with a warrant and make everything official, maybe you and I can meet for lunch.”
“All right.” Cautious pleasure entered the other man’s voice. “Let me treat you to the best steak you’ll find in the state. How about lunch on Friday? I’ll email you the details.”
“You bet.” As he hung up, he was sure about one thing—the detectives might not have told him yet, but Russell already knew Austin was dead. What the man really wanted to ascertain was what the DA’s office knew.
And he wanted to find out what happened to Molly.
Josiah was ready to leave the office hours before he finally did at six thirty. By then the urge to drive out of the city beat like a drum underneath his skin. He needed to see for himself that Molly was okay.
It was a warm, late-spring evening. He mentally swept his car for devices. He didn’t find any, but things had ratcheted up to a new level of tension, so he implemented the next stage of precautions and drove his car to a local YMCA, where he parked and kept a sharp eye on his surroundings as he strode to a Camry parked down a neighborhood street.
Within minutes, he sped down the highway in the new vehicle. After stopping at the country store for more supplies, it was close to eight o’clock by the time he pulled up to the safe house.
He parked behind the house, then gathered the shopping bags and strode to the back door, picking up speed as he grew closer.
Part of him had waited all day for this moment. Before he could fit the key into the lock, the back door opened and Molly stood on the landing. She smiled warily. “I got worried when I saw the strange car.”
He was unprepared for the spike of fierce gladness that drove through him at the sight of her. As he stepped inside, it brought them close together on the small landing. He looked at the empty coffee carafe she gripped in one hand. “Were you going to try to brain me with that? It’s not much of a weapon.”
“There aren’t many options lying around. I grabbed what was available.”
He kept weapons in the locked safe, but she didn’t need to know that. He looked her over. She had washed her clothes and wore her jeans and shoes from Saturday along with another of his T-shirts.
Her blond hair was sleek and clean, and the dark circles that had hollowed out her eyes looked lighter. She still needed a couple of weeks of rest and good nutrition, but she looked worlds better than she had yesterday.
She stood close enough that he could feel her body heat. He leaned closer, narrowing his eyes. “Are you wearing makeup?”
“As it so happens, yes, I am.” Frowning, she leaned backward and pivoted in one neat, fluid movement, heading down the stairs to the basement. “I wanted to see if I could make the last of the bruises disappear.”
“Good. I need to take some photos.”
“Why?” She put the carafe back in the coffee maker and stepped out of the way as he approached the fridge.
He knelt to put away the new food—two Cobb salads, garlic and butter dinner rolls, containers of yogurt, more sandwiches, and a bottle of wine along with an opener. As he straightened, he noticed a few wrappers from the chocolate bars in the small wastebin nearby and smiled to himself. “For your new passport and driver’s license. Do you have a preference for your new name?”
“Let me think about it.” She regarded the wine bottle with obvious yearning. “From the country store?”
“Yes.” He regarded the bottle too and said drily, “They didn’t have the best selection.”
“I don’t care.” She sighed.
“Let’s get business out of the way first. Afterward, we can open the wine and eat some supper.” He frowned at how the neck of his T-shirt gaped on her and then looked down at himself. He still wore his work clothes, a dark suit with a blue dress shirt. “But first I think we should change shirts. What I’m wearing will still be too big for you, but I think we can arrange the collar so it doesn’t show.”
She hesitated. “Okay.”
He stripped off his jacket and shirt. The cool air licked his bare chest and arms as he held them out. Looking steadily into his gaze, her fingers brushed against his as she took the clothes.
Something electric and raw hovered between them.
He almost moved forward, almost reached to pull her into his arms, but then she spun to walk rapidly into the bedroom and slam the door.
He rubbed a hand over his face. His body felt like it had caught fire.
She’s a new widow. You need to stay on track.
This can’t happen.
A few minutes later she walked out again, wearing his shirt and dark jacket, and waited expressionlessly while he stared at her.
His suits and shirts were tailored to his frame, but she had rolled up the sleeves and her long, leggy body carried the look far better than he had anticipated. He was unprepared for how the sight of her in his clothes would hit. The electric, raw tension vibrated higher.
Finally she asked, “Well? Will it do?”
Blindly, he turned toward the stairs. “Like I said, I think I can make it work. We should use the blank wall in the living room as a backdrop.”
She followed him. He listened to the soft friction of cloth, the sounds of her footsteps, light and graceful.
You can’t act on this. You can’t.
In the living room, the automatic timers on the lights had clicked on. She walked over to stand at the wall while he jerked out his phone and angled the camera for a headshot. Zoomed in. Watched the screen rigidly as she licked her bottom lip. Her gaze was shadowed with thoughts he could only guess at.
He had already taken a few shots before he noticed that the shirt collar had gaped enough to show the tip of her lacy bra. “Hold on,” he said tersely.
She held still as he strode forward to adjust the collar. The back of his knuckles brushed the tender skin at her neck. The sensation of touching her shot straight to his groin. They both sucked in a breath.
“Take the damn picture.” Her voice sounded low and strained.
He strode away, adjusted his camera again. This time when he looked at the screen, he saw the tension in her expression, the taut way she held herself.
Whatever else she thought of him, she felt this too. This inappropriate, all-consuming thing. How much more excruciating could it get?
“Try not to look like a felon,” he advised.
Surprised laughter brightened her expression, and there it was, a sparkling glimpse of just how beautiful she would be when she found happiness. As he stared, his thumb pressed down. He clicked several shots.
Her laughter faded. “Did we get it?”
He came back to himself and scrolled back through the photos. “Yes. These will do.”
Tension returned to her features. “Good.” She left the room.
He glanced out the window. Darkness had fallen some time ago. There was nothing like a dark night in the country. It felt like the house was surrounded in velvet.
They had barely touched, and it had still left him struggling for self-control.
I can’t stay, he thought. Having made that decision, he went downstairs. She had shut herself in the bedroom again. A moment later she reappeared, wearing his T-shirt and carrying his suit and dress shirt.
She held out the clothes. This time he carefully avoided any contact with her fingers.
Their eyes met.
He lunged forward the same moment she stepped toward him, and they didn’t kiss so much as collide together. He hauled her against his chest while she wrapped both arms around his neck, mouth slanting under his.
Her lips parted. With a deep sense of relief and excitement, he delved into her. Her mouth was soft, wet silk. The curved heat of her body shifting against his bare skin made hunger spike uncontrollably.
He couldn’t get enough and ate at her while cupping one of her breasts. The soft mound filled his palm, and he stroked her nipple through the barrier of her bra and the T-shirt, making her gasp. As he fondled her, she ran her hands down his chest, igniting him everywhere. The hardest erection he could remember having strained against the zipper of his dress slacks.
This was insanity. A recipe for disaster.
He was damned if he was going to stop it now.
* * *
That day Molly had slept late, eaten chocolate for breakfast, and read some of the thriller. Then she slept some more. Even though most of the day had gone by in a blur, she was glad when Josiah arrived and even more glad when he pulled a bottle of wine out of his shopping bag.
Oh, yes please, wine. The fact that he’d bought it showed he was starting to think about things other than what was useful or what furthered his objectives. If she had learned one thing over the past twenty years, she knew life should be about so much more than meeting one’s ambitions. Or, in his case, being driven by revenge.
Then he took off half his clothes. When he shrugged out of his suit jacket, she saw where he was going and had a moment to brace herself. But then the material of his shirt fell open as he unbuttoned it, and everything inside ground to a halt.
He had whipcord strength bound with heavy muscles on a big frame. His shoulders and arms flexed along with the accordion shadows of lean ribs as he stripped off his shirt. He was deeply tanned everywhere, not just his face and neck, and his broad chest and flat stomach were sprinkled with dark hair that glinted in the basement light.
Her throat went dry. God, she wanted him. He glanced at her, eyes glittering, the bones of his face tight. He looked at her like she was his only meal for miles around, and she wanted to say come and get it.
She thought running away to change in the bedroom would help, but then she slipped into the clothes that were still warm from his body. Immediately, she was enveloped in his scent, and it made things worse. Made it unbearable. Needing him became a scratch under her skin that she couldn’t reach.
Watching him watch her, take photos of her while he wore nothing but the dark slacks of his suit. Could he see through the lens of his phone how she fought to hide her erratic breathing?
She ran away the first chance she got, tore off his clothes only to put on his T-shirt again, and tried to give the shirt and jacket back. All the while the need for him was running fast and liquid in the back of her mind like frenetic music she couldn’t silence.
Until she stopped trying and a force greater than she was drove her forward.
Coming into full contact with his body caused an explosion of sensation—the taste of his mouth, his hard muscles sliding against hers, his heat, his scent, my God, those big hands roaming over her with such shaking greed.
Tearing her mouth away, she rubbed her face against the crisp hair of his chest and gasped, “I’m still leaving.”
Aggressively, he walked her back until her shoulders hit the wall. “You’re still leaving,” he agreed roughly. “I’m not. We both know what this is.”
Do we? What is it?
She was glad at least one of them was clear about where things stood. The only thing she knew for sure was that she couldn’t stand to have a single piece of clothing between them, and she yanked the T-shirt off again. While she struggled to get free of the soft cotton material, he put his arms around her to search for her bra clasp.
He found it, her bra fell away, and he stopped, chest heaving as he stared down at her. When his gaze came back up, his expression had turned molten.
It stabbed her, that look, somewhere deep where she had been bruised and hurt. She had needed somebody to look at her as if she were the only thing he had ever wanted—even if it was just for this moment.
“You can change your mind and walk away,” she whispered, testing the threads of desire that tied them to each other.
“Like hell I can,” he growled, pressing her against the wall with his bigger, harder body. But then he paused as he sank a fist into the hair at the nape of her neck. He muttered, with difficulty, “I understand if you’re not ready for this, but you’d better say something now.”
That was… thoughtful. Winding her arms around his neck, she whispered against his lips, “I’m so ready for this.”
Grabbing her hips, he ground against her and hissed, “Birth control.”
“On the pill.” She brushed his hands aside and yanked open the fastening of her jeans.
He pulled out his wallet and withdrew a foil-wrapped package. “Condom.”
“Safe sex and protection. We’re good.” Coping with wall sex and a condom seemed like more than what she could handle. She slid away and walked into the bedroom, then wiggled out of her jeans.
When she turned, she wore only her lacy panties. He had opened the fastening of his slacks. Underneath, his large erection strained against the confinement of sleek, black shorts. The unruly wave of dark hair had fallen on his forehead, and his Power radiated like a furnace.
She felt like she was going crazy. The surface of her skin needed his like her lungs needed air. She snatched the condom out of his hand and ripped the packet open. He put the flat of his hand against her collarbone and shoved her so she fell back on the bed.
Then, swooping like a hawk, he dove on top of her. A sound broke out of her as their bodies collided. She curled one leg around his waist while he pushed his cock against the bowl of her pelvis.
He angled his dark head so that he could bite and suckle at her nipples, quickly teasing them into reddened peaks. Stabs of pleasure rocked through her body. The need to have him turned painful.
Pushing his shoulder, she muttered, “Let me get this on you.”
Growling, he lifted his head. A flush had darkened his cheekbones. Bracing his weight on both hands, he held still while she yanked his slacks open farther and reached into the black shorts to pull out his erection.
They both looked at her hand gripping his cock. He muttered, “I’m close to spilling all over you.”
“Don’t you dare,” she told him breathlessly. “I want you inside me when you come.”
A small, sensual smile tugged at his strongly molded lips as he looked at her with approval and heat. “You know what you want. I like that.”
So did she. Austin had always tried to exert control in the bedroom, and while she didn’t mind giving up control sometimes, she also wanted to take control too. With shaking fingers, she smoothed the condom over the broad head of his erection and rolled the edges down. He was beautiful everywhere, and large enough the condom didn’t reach to the root. While she worked it on, he jerked in her hands and swore under his breath. She paused to give him a few moments.
Then, with sly gentleness, he teased his fingers under the edge of her panties and stroked her. With a strangled sound of surprise, she climaxed.
His clenched expression softened. Gently, he stroked her in a rhythm that helped her further along while he watched every shift in her expression. Riding the waves of the climax until it eased, she gave him a twisted smile.
“Well, that was a bonus,” she told him unsteadily. “Normally I don’t come that easily, or even every time.”
“You can change that expectation right now,” he said as he eased one finger inside her. “Because you’re going to come every time you’re with me. Every time, Molly, and more than once.”
“Those are some bold words.” She gasped, rocking to his penetration. “Are you sure you can live up to them?”
He laughed, a soft and wicked sound that ran over her like caress. “I don’t make claims I can’t fulfill. Lift up, milaya. I don’t want to destroy your only pair of panties.”
Milaya. What did that mean? As she lifted her hips, he pulled the panties off and dropped them to the floor beside the bed. Then, holding her gaze, he settled between her legs and rubbed the petals of her intimate flesh with the head of his cock.
When she was ready, he pushed in, stretching her wide with his entry. It felt so incredible she tilted back her head and closed her eyes to savor every moment.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
Startled, she opened her eyes.
Watching her closely, he pushed harder until he was in all the way. “You chose this. No regrets, no turning away.”
He looked fierce, possessive, his expression taut. Surprised by his insistence, she gripped his biceps. “No regrets, I swear it. I’m enjoying this too much. I only closed my eyes because you feel so damn good.”
“That’s all right then.” The clenched line of his jaw eased. Then, as he pulled back and slid in again, her eyelids fluttered shut again.
“Still here,” she murmured as she arched up. “Still with you all the way.”
“You better be,” he growled. “God, I hate condoms, but I love how you feel.”
“I love how you feel too,” she gasped.
Tension coiled higher as they found a rhythm together. He stroked her hair back off her face as he moved inside her, and somehow the wordless gesture conveyed something she needed. Sliding both hands down the long, strong curve of his back, she rose up to press her mouth against his shoulder, and in response, he gripped her hip and increased the power of his thrusts.
When he pulled out, she grumbled in protest. A quick white grin flashed across his face.
“Turn over,” he told her.
Eagerly, she complied, and he guided her into position on her hands and knees and covered her from behind. When he entered her, the angle made him feel bigger than ever. Bonelessly, she collapsed onto her elbows, which raised her hips higher until at last he was buried to the root.
He braced himself on one hand while he curved the other arm around her torso to stroke at her entrance. When he found her clitoris, she shuddered everywhere from the piercing burst of pleasure.
He growled against her neck, “There it is.”
“God!” Reaching blindly for a pillow, she buried her face in it. “It feels amazing, but I don’t know if I can come again.”
“Oh, you can,” he told her. He bit her neck as he fucked her, and the relentless circular motion of his fingers drove everything else out of her head.
It was indescribable. She felt empty and he filled her. She wanted to focus on everything about him—his big body, the taste of his skin, the grace and power in his movements—but he kept the focus on her with those wicked, wise fingers. The pleasure spiked higher and higher until a climax crashed through her again. This one was deeper, stronger, and she cried out at the intensity of it.
He growled again and cut loose. Gripping her by the hair, one arm wrapped around her hips, he drove into her. “I can’t get enough of you.”
“Me neither.” She felt crazed, outside her own head. What the hell were they doing? Nothing existed except this overwhelming drive to mate. Reaching above and behind her, she cupped the back of his neck.
With a muffled groan, he twisted and held rigid. She could feel him pulsing inside, and it was gorgeous, glorious. His roughened breathing sawed in her ear. Gently, she released the back of his neck and stroked his cheek.
We both know what this is.
Except… she didn’t.
She only knew one thing for sure. No matter what this was between them or how deeply it shook her, she was still leaving.