Dash froze. Had he just agreed to tell Justice Malloy the truth? She deserved answers. But he still didn’t know how or why the woman had arrived at The Last Resort.
Several people emerged from the lobby bar and eyed Justice. “What does the lamb say to escaping the lions?” he murmured, and wiped a fresh stream of blood from the corner of his mouth.
She glanced toward the crowd. “Am I trading one den of beasts for another?”
Fear still cast shadows in her wide brown eyes, but her calm returned. “Worried you’ll be devoured, or worse, that you won’t?”
“What makes you think I want it?” Her brows rose as she stepped inside the elevator.
He pressed the button for the ninth floor and leaned closer. “Oh, you want it.” The smell of her curls and skin, like ripe strawberries, made his mouth water. “You proved just how much in the bar.”
Her breath quickened.
The thought of his fingers splayed into her wet pussy tightened his chest and cock. “Or had you forgotten?”
A sharp jerk yanked his head downward.
“No. I haven’t.” She wrapped his tie around her wrist. “Nor your promise for answers.”
Dash met her fierce gaze. While he admired her ballsy move, he noted her trembling hand.
“Don’t play with me,” she said.
He bit back a grin. Play was exactly what he wanted, but not in the manner she assumed. “You don’t mean that.”
“Mr. Wilde—”
“Dash, since we’re already on intimate terms.” The heat from her breath warmed his skin. With his mouth so close to hers, he could almost taste the vodka on her lips.
“Your hands in my pants doesn’t make us intimate,” she snapped as the elevator stopped and the gilt cage rose.
“But it does make us more than strangers.” He unwrapped his tie from her fingers. Their steps thunked against the wood floor as they walked down the long cream hallway.
He pulled a large brass key from his coat pocket and opened the last room at the end of the long hall.
“Where are we?” She inched over the threshold, ahead of him.
Dash hesitated. He’d never brought a guest to his private suite. “My home.”
He snapped his fingers and a fire sprung to life in the parlor grate.
She jumped. “How did you do that?”
A slight tremor shook her voice. The knowledge he had caused her distress tugged at gut. He dropped the key on the walnut table behind the old fashioned green settee. “Come, my child, and you shall hear.”
“You’d better hope I’m over eighteen or you’ll be thrown in jail.”
An acid laugh broke from his lips. “What makes you think I’m not already?” Without a backward glance, he walked into the bathroom.
The first of the two granite sinks filled with hot water. Sore muscles protested as he stripped off his ruined jacket. The silk hit the marble floor as his tossed cuff links bounced along the vanity.
A purple bruise darkened his left cheek beneath the dried blood. He caught Justice’s reflection in the mirror.
“Nice.” Her gaze swept over the walk-in shower encompassing the entire back of the bathroom, but stopped on the oversized sunken bathtub behind him. “Bandages?” She turned toward him.
He pointed to the cabinet under the sink and unbuttoned his shirt. More than once he caught Justice stealing looks. She was still interested. He hid a gun.
“You talk and I’ll doctor.” She lined up a collection of gauze and antiseptic.
“Now who wants to play games?” He smiled as she gingerly sat on the vanity.
“Fine. Let’s start with twenty questions.” She dunked a washcloth in the sink. “Where am I and why can’t I leave?”
Dash let out a slow breath. In their verbal one-upmanship, he almost forgot the promise to tell her the truth. Tightness in no way related to his injuries seized his muscles.
“What I’m about to tell you can never be repeated.” He grabbed her hands and forced her to look him in the eye.
“Why?” She swallowed.
“Never,” he growled. Flames burst under his skin. She jerked, but he held tight. Damn. Being honest was harder than he remembered.
He took a deep breath. “I’ll die.”
Her eyes widened as realization glowed.
“Do you believe in the concept of an immortal soul?” He paused, waiting for her nod as much as to steady his voice. “Whenever the number of damned souls reaches a critical level, this hotel appears. The damned and those seeking sexual freedom are drawn here for forty-eight hours of indulgence.” He waited for her nod before continuing. At the end, the wantons leave with no memory and the damned are…”
Justice ceased wiping the blood from his face. “Damned, as in Hell?”
He nodded.
The rag fell from her hand to the marble floor with a slap. She backed away, her face as pale as her hair. “You’re the devil?”
“No, not The Devil.” Her muscles relaxed. “But I am a devil, now.”
“That’s impossible.” But her shrill laughter said otherwise.
“Is it?” He folded his arms in front of him. “How do you explain the door retreating?”
“Special effects.” She threw up her hands.
Easy explanations didn’t exist any more than the rationale she sought. “What about the lack of cars on the road driving here?”
“Wouldn’t traffic jams be more your—I mean hellish?” She gave a weak smile.
“You tell me.” He snapped his fingers and a vodka rocks appeared on the vanity beside her.
Seconds ticked by and with each one he expected her to bolt from the room screaming. Little by little the fear in her brown eyes lightened.
She reached for the drink grimacing as she swallowed. “But you weren’t always a devil?”
“No.” He shook his head and leaned against the cool mirror.
“How did you—”
He glared.
“Forget I asked.” She stooped and retrieved the washcloth.
He closed his eyes. No one except The Devil knew the details of their bargain. He hated himself enough without adding Justice’s. As much as she’d sacrificed for her family, she’d never understand or permit him to protect her.
“I won’t hurt you.”
She touched her soft fingers to the side of his face. His cock filled and he was thankful she didn’t notice.
“I believe you.” She caressed his cheek.
Several seconds passed before her words sunk in. He blew out a sharp breath. The water in the basin turned red as she dunked the cloth.
“How do you know who is who?” She wrung out the excess.
“Meaning, are you going to Hell or a wanton?”
A tight smile stretched her shaky lips.
He had the urge to laugh, but resisted. How could a woman, who was devoted to her dead parents, to caring for her brother, and who raised money for charities, think herself damned? “With this.” He dug in his pants pocket and pulled out the compass.
“A moral compass?” She gave a small laugh.
The melody was as sweet as any he’d ever heard his mother sing as a babe. He grinned. “We have a hell of a sense of humor.”
“What does it say about me?” She scooted closer until her bare shoulder brushed his chest.
Nerve endings buzzed at the contact. “Undecided with a touch of wanton.” He showed her the needle so she’d see he spoke the truth.
“So in two days I can leave.” Her eyes closed and the tension drained from her rigid spine. “Has this ever happened?”
“Only once.” He clenched the metal device.
“What happened?”
“Nothing, if the little fucker hadn’t written a hit song about it,” he muttered. By sheer luck, the tune had come out in the seventies and everyone blamed too many drugs for the wild idea.
“You mean…” She let out a low whistle and dabbed ointment over his cuts. “How did I end up here?”
“If I knew the answer to that…” He patted the cut at the side of his mouth.
“Finished.” She stowed the arsenal of medical supplies away. “Why didn’t you just snap your fingers for this like everything else?” She glanced up from beneath the cabinet. “For that matter, why not just magic me out of here?”
He’d rather magic her to his bed. The heat in his groin flared. “I can control objects, not people.”
“Free will?” She dusted off her hands.
“Yes, and unbreakable rules.” He was surprised she understood, but then, Justice Malloy was a surprising woman. He stood and led her to the parlor. “But I can do something else.”
“Oh.” Her tongue slipped over her lower lip. “What’s that?”
“Get you off.” He stared at her long legs and the points of her tight nipples beneath her top.
“I think you already did that.” She sauntered closer.
“Once isn’t nearly enough.” Already he wanted his hands stroking her soft skin.
“For whom?” She stood in front of him. “Me? Or you?”
“Maybe both.” He snapped his fingers and a silver charger appeared on the narrow table beside them.
She swept her gaze over the dark green and brown antique furniture. “Not what I’d expect.”
Warmth crept into his cheeks. The old fashioned style from his days as a mortal suddenly made him feel foolish. He pressed his thumb to his pinkie to change the décor. A hand wrapped around his, stopping him from snapping his fingers.
“Don’t.” She squeezed. “This is your home, you shouldn’t change it for me.”
He simply nodded. Not one of the women he’d taken to bed had ever protested him catering to every preference. A warm, fuzzy sensation filled his stomach.
In that moment, he wanted to do something for Justice.
“How am I ever going get any work done?” She rubbed her temples and groaned.
“I can offer you Internet access, but no e-mail or phone.”
“Thanks.” She gazed at the dancing fire. “I can’t take time for myself right now. My brother is depending on me.”
“There will always be someone who needs something.” He reached out and turned her face toward his. “What about you?” He stroked her delicate jaw. “You can’t go anywhere.”
“True.” She bit her lip. “And it is late at night.” Her tight shoulders dipped, relaxing.
He was making progress. He uncovered the tray, revealing fresh strawberries and a dish of dark melted chocolate. “You’re not going to refuse and say you’re on a diet?”
She arched an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t that be against the rules of forty-eight hours of indulgence?”
“If not, I can make it one.” He smiled.
Justice plucked a berry from the tray and swirled the fruit in the melted chocolate. As her teeth sank into the bright red skin, her eyes closed and she moaned. “Delicious.”
Yes, she was, with her head thrown back and her neck exposed. His cock hardened.
“You should try some,” she said, taking another bite.
Dash lowered his head to hers and licked the rich confection from her mouth. She gasped and put a hand to his chest. “Mmm. You’re right.” He lapped at the confection coating her sweet lips.
“I think I need another taste,” she said.
He stared as she dunked another berry and brought the dripping delicacy to his chest. His breath hitched.
Screw waiting. He wanted her right then. He didn’t question the need. Another second and he’d knock the tray over and take her right there.
A trail of warm, thick liquid spread down his sternum as Justice dragged the fruit along his skin. His heart pounded as he waited for her next move.
“Oh, did I spill some on you?” Hungry mischief danced in her deep brown gaze.
“A little.” His voice thickened.
“Let me clean up the mess.” She pressed her mouth to the top of his rib cage and licked the confection from his body.
Fire ravaged his skin. Her delicate pink lips moved against him like satin. Dash grabbed her hips and pulled her pussy against his throbbing cock.
“Mmm.” She smiled. “This tastes much better.”
He thrust his hands beneath her skirt and along the outside of her hips. She gasped and a rush of warm, moist breath washed over his stomach. Small, blunt teeth nipped at his flesh. “Ahhh,” he groaned.
“Should I stop?”
The little tease damn well knew the answer. “Fuck no!”
Justice giggled, a decidedly playful sound that suited her. He cupped the firm globes of her ass in his palms, massaging the pliant muscles while she feasted on him.
Breaking his hold, she traveled lower.
The closer her mouth came to his cock the harder he got. His balls pulled tight. Her innocent curls and white outfit made the sight of her wicked torment all the hotter.
She worked her way down his body. The flat of her tongue laved across his stomach.
His abs contracted. The tips of her fingers slid inside the waist of his trousers. His cock jerked. One glimpse of her lips swallowing his hard shaft and he was done.
Grabbing her beneath her arms, he hauled her up, crushing her against him. He kissed her. Chocolate and salt from his skin flooded his taste buds.
Arms encircled his neck as Justice’s tongue met his stroke for stroke. The hard pressure hurt like a bitch against his cuts, but he didn’t care. Nothing did except having more of her.
“I wasn’t finished,” she breathed against his cheek.
“I haven’t even gotten started.”