Wicked and Dangerous (wicked lovers), Page 2

  The military fit. Working for the government? She doubted very much he’d pushed pencils for the IRS, but she didn’t pry. Security made sense, too. With his ridiculously bulging shoulders and air of strength, he looked more than capable of being a protector.

  “S.I. Industries?” she asked. “Was that Javier and Xander Santiago you were talking to?”

  Since moving to Lafayette over the summer, she’d read their names and seen their pictures repeatedly in the local rag. The brothers were only slightly better known for their prestigious, growing company and the jobs it was bringing to the area as they were for the rumors they shared a wife.

  “Yes. I’ve worked for Xander for a few years. Until he got married, I did nothing but bail him out of scrapes. Now I devote my spare time to whatever makes mischief.” He winked. “How about you?”

  “I’m a school teacher. Fifth grade English.”

  Decker gave her a long, slow smile. “I got a whole bunch of naughty teacher fantasies.”

  “I’ve got,” she corrected automatically.

  “You, too?” He pretended to misunderstand. “Awesome! You know, if you were my homework, I’d be doing you on my desk.”

  “You did not just say that,” she scolded.

  “I totally did.” He flashed her a grin. “Google really is helpful. I have more.”

  “Stop, please.” Rachel laughed. “I’m raising the white flag.”

  “Not yet. I have one more you need to hear.” Decker curled his arms more tightly around her.

  The breath of air between them disappeared as he fitted her against his body. Rachel gasped. He was hard all over. Her palms slid up his biceps and over his shoulders, both like rocks. His chest was like a hot slab of concrete. The ridges of his abdomen led her to believe there’d be at least a six-pack under there. But lower . . . He bent his knees a fraction and notched his erection against the vulnerable V between her legs. And oh, all that thickness and length couldn’t be him, could it?

  “Yes?” she moaned as he rolled his hips against her and hit one really pleasurable spot that . . . wow.

  “That’s a nice dress you’re wearing,” he murmured in her ear, then brushed his lips up the side of her neck until she trembled and closed her eyes.

  “It’s a skirt and blouse.”

  “Whatever. It would look better on the floor next to my bed.”

  Rachel’s breath caught. He was propositioning her. Guys like him never found her attractive. They usually liked Alicia. On the one hand, her libido definitely wanted to say yes. She found everything about him made her heart rev. Her common sense might be hesitating, but every cell in her body clamored for her to rub against him and grab whatever pleasure he was willing to give her. But the more cautious part of her just wouldn’t be shushed.

  “How do I know you’re not a crazed killer?”

  He cocked his head. “You have any Taliban or drug cartel affiliations?”

  “Um . . .” Rachel reared back a bit in his arms. “No. I can safely say that I don’t.”

  “Then we’ll have no problems. The only thing I want to massacre is your desire to say no.”

  Decker might have phrased it like a joke, but he looked dead serious. Was she actually considering this? Was she really thinking of going home with a man she’d met ten minutes ago and opening her body to him?

  Well, sunshine, if you want sex with a hot guy, it’s not like Magnolia Elementary school is a hotbed of gorgeous, single men. You’re going to have to step out on a limb.

  Ugh, she hated that little devil on her shoulder, always urging her to do something she probably shouldn’t.

  Rachel opened her mouth to politely decline when the voice blared in her ear again.

  Think about this. Who talked you into marrying the poster child for bedroom boredom, even knowing he was way more versed in physics than pleasure?

  The voice had a really good point. Besides, he worked for a good company and had friends who were upstanding financial pillars of the community now. How bad could he be?

  She peered up at Decker, curling her arms just a bit tighter around his neck. “Do you know anything about physics?”

  He raised a dark brow. “Would that turn you on?”

  “No.” Not at all.

  “Then you’ll be happy to know I failed eleventh grade science.”

  “Thrilled.” She sent him her most dazzling smile.

  “Is that a yes?” Decker pulled her closer, his face going straight into the crook of her neck, his whiskers awakening her skin with gentle abrasion.

  How would it feel if he dragged his face up her body? Between her thighs? He drew his lips to the soft skin of her ear. Rachel caught her breath.

  He nipped, tugged on her sensitive lobe. “Please say that’s a yes. You’re so fucking beautiful, you made me forget my next pick-up line.”

  She shivered at the rough whisper in her ear. The musky scent of his male flesh surrounded her completely. Hard, demanding, unyielding . . . he made her blood rush and parts of her surprisingly damp. What if she said yes?

  “I want to be in charge,” she breathed out, then nodded, finding her voice again. “Of everything. I want to say where and when and how.”

  He pulled back enough to cup her face. Surprise glowed in his deep blue eyes. “Is that how you usually roll, beautiful?”

  With a nervous shake of her head, she forced herself to meet his gaze head on—and not think about the fact that his lips hovered just above her own. “No. But I need that now. I want to tell you what I want.”

  A grin creased his face, and he relaxed. “You should always be able to tell a man what you want. If his little ego is offended, he doesn’t have much of one in the first place. And I can guarantee you, his mind isn’t the only thing about him that’s small.”

  Rachel laughed, but he wasn’t wrong. Every suggestion she’d ever made in the bedroom, no matter how gentle, Owen had taken as criticism. He’d always gotten stiff—and she didn’t mean his, um . . . member, which hadn’t been at all big.

  “I don’t want any surprises. I don’t want to feel out of control.” She’d spent so much time turning herself inside out, trying to please Owen, only to constantly fall short. She’d never known when she was going to encounter a bad mood, the cold shoulder, or a completely unsatisfying quickie. He hadn’t seemed to care how any of that made her feel, and she refused to repeat that experience.

  “All right. If that’s the way you want it, I’m game. You lead the way, and I’ll follow.”

  She sighed with relief. “My place. Now.”

  Even saying the words made a little shiver curl up her spine. His answering grin suggested lots of screaming fun in her future. What could go wrong?

  • • •

  DECKER HAD TO work to hold in his surprise. If she enjoyed being in charge in the bedroom, he’d change his name to Bugs Bunny. But he’d deal with that when they hit the sheets. As soon as he’d absolved her of the notion that she had an ounce of Dominant blood in her veins, he’d send her into an orgasm-induced stupor. Then he’d get to work. But he didn’t think he could focus on business for long before he took care of pleasure because her curves were killing his concentration.

  His first order of business, unrelated to partaking of her sweetness he couldn’t wait to corrupt, would be to take a quick trek through her e-mails, Facebook, and texts. He’d look for anything that might give him some clue about who would want her dead and why, see how they fit with the asshole who’d sat next to him at the bar earlier today. Frankly, his money was on the ex-husband. Nothing like divorce to make someone want a fatal bullet full of revenge. No idea what Rachel had done to “deserve” it, and he didn’t care. He wasn’t letting the scumbag who’d solicited him to commit murder succeed.

  He grinned at her. “Your place, huh? Let’s go.”

  “I’ve got to grab my purse.” She turned away and took his hand, leading him back to her table. “I must be out of my mind.” He heard her mutter to herself.r />
  Nice to know that she didn’t make a habit of picking up guys in bars, but it didn’t matter. He had a stash of condoms and a mission to accomplish. Rachel’s personal life otherwise was none of his business.

  As they reached the table, he noticed that most of her party had left in the past few minutes. Or hooked up with others and dispersed. But the tall woman with the chocolate skin was staring at her phone with wide eyes.

  “I’ve got to go!” She grabbed her coat and looked at Rachel anxiously. “My little brother has been in a car accident. The ambulance is rushing him to the hospital.”

  Shock hit Rachel’s face. “Go!”

  “Alicia . . .”

  “I’ll take her home.”

  The woman’s dark eyes slid over Rachel holding his hand. “You’re busy . . .”

  “You’re having an emergency. I can pause for ten minutes to take Alicia home. Go!”

  The statuesque woman nodded, then hugged Rachel. “Thanks.”

  “Do you need me at the hospital?”

  The woman hesitated, but looked like she wanted to say yes. “I’ll call you.”

  Well, hell . . . Here might be a fly in his ointment. Decker winced. He’d look like a grade-A ass for insisting they fuck while some kid might be fighting for his life. “Do you need to take a rain check, beautiful?”

  She hesitated. “I have to take another friend home first.”

  “And your mind is going to be on her brother.” He nodded after the black woman with the outrageous shoes currently scurrying to the door.

  Rachel bit her lip. “Probably. I’m really sorry . . .”

  She was loyal to her friends, and he admired that. Knowing that she cared about the people around her made him feel even more protective.

  Boohoo. Next thing he knew, he’d be crying at greeting card commercials. Even if she’d been the douchiest bitch from hell, he wouldn’t condone her ex or some random ass-hat trying to do her in.

  “Don’t worry about it. How about I give you my number, and you see if you feel like calling me tomorrow?” He hated leaving the ball in her court. It seriously went against his grain, but he couldn’t come on too strong now without making her suspicious. He’d think of something tomorrow, if necessary.

  But that didn’t mean he intended to leave her alone tonight.

  “Really?”

  Those big, dark eyes of hers widened in surprise. Hell, those were going to be the undoing of all his bad intentions. One of those expressions, and he felt like he was contemplating seducing Little Bo Peep, for fuck’s sake.

  “Of course. As much as I’d like to spend tonight with you, I can be patient. If you’re still interested tomorrow, I’m yours. Don’t get me wrong, I’m fighting the urge to make you the happiest woman on the planet tonight.” He grinned, and she bestowed that gorgeous smile on him with the dimple in her left cheek that somehow made him harder. “But I suppose I can make you doubly happy tomorrow.”

  “I’d like that,” she murmured.

  And Decker believed that she meant it. Hot damn!

  He scribbled the number of the new disposable phone he’d picked up before coming here on the back of the bar’s napkin and wrote his first name, then handed it to her. Rachel took it with a smile.

  “It was good to meet you. I’m going to get out of here and take Alicia home, but . . . really, thanks for making me smile.”

  “You deserve a great birthday, beautiful. I hope your friend’s brother is all right.”

  Just in case he’d misread her and she didn’t intend to call, then he’d have to barge his way into her life in a less seductive fashion. That would suck. He wanted her taste on his tongue at least this once. He could be satisfied with one kiss, right?

  TWO

  DECKER TOOK HOLD OF HER SOFT CHEEKS AND TILTED HER lips under his, pressing a kiss to her mouth. Pliant, moist, velvety. Holy shit. Her sweetness absolutely flattened him.

  No way he’d ever be satisfied with just one kiss.

  Without another thought, he charged in, taking possession of her mouth and demanding more. In his arms, Rachel stiffened. Crap, he had to dial back the urgency and the impulse to crush those sweet lips under his own and take control. But this girl was like sinking into his most sugary-spun fantasy. He could kiss her for the next two days and not get enough. The idea of owning her lips for his use by his mouth, by his cock . . . Hell, he was about to bust out of his jeans.

  Under him, Rachel suddenly whimpered, and Decker braced himself for her to push him away. Instead, she threw her arms around him, latched on like she was drowning, and pressed those plump breasts against his chest. He didn’t need more green light than that.

  Decker gripped her tighter, dove in deeper, caressing his way down her back and grabbing a handful of her pert ass, settling in for a really atomic lip lock. He tangled his tongue with hers, shared her breath, and rocked against her. She shouldn’t have to guess what he wanted or how badly he ached for it. Rachel stood on her tiptoes and melted against him even more.

  Until the jerk at the next table shoved his chair back, straight into them. Then she gasped and wriggled away. Damn it to hell . . .

  He wanted to yank her back against him, wrap her legs around his waist, and fuck her into next week. But he’d promised to give her control. If he wanted more of her later, he had to live up to his word and let her go now.

  Decker couldn’t resist brushing her sultry lips with his own one last time, then reluctantly he forced himself to release her. “I really hope you call.”

  Rachel smiled, her cheeks a flushed pink discernible even in the dim light. He would bet every dime in his bank account that she didn’t have a whole lot of sexual experience. And he’d be happy as hell to broaden her horizons.

  Decker turned away and maneuvered through the crowd to the front of the club, then shoved the door open. Stepping out into the balmy October evening, he strode to his bike and ripped the chin strap of his helmet off the highway peg before shoving the damn thing on his head. Annoyance chafed. Of course he wanted to fuck her. But it went against his instincts to leave her alone right now for even a minute. Decker took a deep breath. He had to hope that whoever wanted her dead would give him the promised few days to complete the job before sending someone else.

  Straddling his Ducati, he settled back onto the leather seat. Sure enough, a few minutes later, Rachel rushed out of the nightclub, keys in hand, and headed to her car, her blond friend swaying drunkenly behind her. She unlocked a sturdy little white Toyota with her key fob. Halfway across the parking lot, she fished in her purse for her phone, completely ignoring her surroundings. Absently, she dialed someone and spoke to the trailing blonde, still not paying any attention to potential danger. Decker made a mental note to teach her to stay alert before he squashed this murder-for-hire plot and moved on. And once she admitted that she wasn’t any sort of Domme, he might even blister her ass a little for this episode, just for fun.

  The thought made him smile.

  Rachel piled her inebriated friend into the passenger’s seat, then hustled around the car before climbing in. Decker took that as his cue to start his bike and follow. He kept a respectable distance—not that she was paying a lick of attention—and followed her to the other woman’s place, watching Rachel help her up the stairs and into her little cookie-cutter apartment. Then she raced back to her car, on the fucking phone again, and drove off. God, if he’d wanted to kill her, he could have done it twenty times by now before she ever realized she was dead.

  Next stop was the hospital. The parking lot was lit decently, and the emergency room was hopping. But this many strangers this close to her made him nervous. He parked his bike and followed discreetly until she was safely inside, hating that he couldn’t trail her any closer without being seen.

  With a sigh, he waited in the shadows. Just in case the prick who’d hired him was impatient, he wasn’t going to give anyone the opportunity to off her in a parking lot and make it look random.

&nbs
p; About ninety minutes later, she emerged under the little portico outside the ER’s automatic door. She and her wildly dressed friend exchanged a few words under the glaring LED lights overhead and hugged. The black woman’s face was dotted with tears and smudged mascara, but she managed a relieved smile. Then Rachel darted out to her car as the other woman headed back into the hospital. Decker followed his little bundle of curves in the sinful black skirt. She never noticed.

  Predictably, Rachel drove straight toward home. When she finally looked in her rearview mirror at a stoplight, he turned right onto another street, taking a gamble that she didn’t have an alternate destination in mind. He raced to her darkened cottage on the quiet residential street he’d scoped out during recon earlier in the evening. Ditching his bike on the next cul-de-sac, he dashed around the block to beat Rachel. He wanted to check inside, make sure she didn’t come home to any nasty surprises.

  It took him all of two minutes to jimmy his way through a back window. She had zero security—another conversation they’d be having before he hit the road again. He crawled through to a guest room, figuring he had three minutes at most to scope out the place before she pulled into her little attached garage.

  In less than sixty seconds, he’d crept through every room in the house, pried open closets, checked any other obvious hiding spots. The place was spotless and devoid of any life except a purring cat who curled around his ankles. He’d always been a dog person.

  “Hairball . . .” he groused.

  “Meow,” the little orange tabby wailed at him, rubbing against his pant leg again.

  Decker smiled, despite himself, and scratched the cat between the ears. “I’ll bet she spoils you rotten and rubs you all the time, lucky thing.”

  The cat only purred louder.

  He caught sight of her computer on a little desk in the corner of her living room. He’d check her phone as soon as she nodded off. Framed photos rested all around her place, on shelves, countertops, and the mantle. He didn’t dare turn on lights now to investigate, but soon.