Deadly Silence (Blood Brothers #1)(94)

She nodded. “That has always been my plan. After I no longer need Todd or his Protect soldiers.”

“If he gets any idea you intend to continue your work, he’ll try to kill you,” Elton said, his muscular hands planting on the desk.

She stood and moved around the desk to lean against him. “Then I expect you to defend me.”

“You know I will,” he said, his blue eyes darkening.

“Of course.”

“I hope you’ll remain with me this time,” he said slowly.

She nodded. He did have sadistic qualities she quite enjoyed. She stretched up onto her toes and pressed her mouth against his.

He bit her.

Pain lanced along her lips, but she allowed it. “You’re becoming predicable,” she murmured.

Wrong thing to say.

He clamped his hands on her arms and yanked her over the desk, turning her and shoving her facedown. A rough hand ripped up her skirt, and after a quick unzipping of his pants, he shoved inside her. “You’re lucky you’re not wearing underwear,” he breathed against her ear.

Pain filled her. She hadn’t been anywhere near ready for him. He gripped her shoulders with bruising fingers and hammered inside her, grunting into her neck. Her face rubbed against her stapler, and she tried to push it away with her chin.

He laughed and grabbed the stapler.

Her body seized.

“What in the world could we do with this?” he asked, embedded in her, not moving.

She shivered but knew not to speak.

He ran the cool metal down her back and over her butt. “Ever been stapled?”

She trembled.

He chuckled and slid it around her hip and over her clit. “You’re gonna come either now or with staples in you.” He pushed the device against her.

She pushed back, twisted, and exploded in an orgasm so hard, tears filled her eyes.

He dropped the stapler, grabbed her hips, and stroked inside her three times, shuddering as he came. Then he pulled out and flipped her around. “You are one sick f*ck, you know that?” He leaned down and kissed her lips.

She kissed him back and pulled her clothes back into place. “Look who’s talking.” Then she leaned back, quite satisfied. The darkness in him drew her, and she should probably spend some time studying that fact. When she had time, of course.

He nipped her lip. “I like that you think you’re going to win this.”

She tilted her head and studied him. Sometimes she forgot he wasn’t just a country sheriff. While he certainly lacked her intelligence, sometimes evil held a brilliance of its own. She’d be a fool to underestimate him. “I was hoping we’d win together.”

“Hmm.” He leaned down and retrieved the stapler, opening it and sliding the slightly exposed staple along her knuckles and hand. She curled her fingers around the edge of the desk and tried to ignore the scratches. “Every once in a while, I feel like you’re playing me,” he said.

Of course she was. “Never. Everyone but you.” She held perfectly still.

He flattened his palm over the stapler.

She kept his gaze. “I wouldn’t.”

“Why not?” he whispered. “You love a good bite.”

“That’s a staple,” she said, her voice clipped. “It would leave a mark, and you like me unmarked.”

Then he lifted her hand and kissed her unblemished skin “You’re perfect, and you know it.” He grabbed her waist and lifted her onto the desk, shoving her onto her back. Tugging up her skirt, he dropped, his face right between her legs, beginning to use his mouth against her clit.

As her thighs began to tremble and pleasure filled her, she recalculated her plans. Sheriff Cobb was still useful, and the wild part of him, the side she couldn’t quite control, intrigued her enough to make her want to keep him. For a while, anyway.

*



Zara slowly came to, noticing her head ached and her butt was cold. She gasped and opened her eyelids, her body flashing awake.

“You’re all right,” Greg said, sitting about three yards away across a cold room. “Maybe a concussion.”

Nausea ballooned in her belly, and she took several deep breaths, looking around. Grungy white cinder blocks made up the walls except where there was a steel door, dirt covered the floor, and one lone light bulb swung from a frayed wire dangling from the ceiling. Both she and Greg sat on dirt, and her housecoat was gone, leaving her in her burgundy nightgown. Although it was formfitting, at least it was long. “Where are we?”

“Dunno.” He rubbed his face. “Whatever they gave me knocked me out until just a few minutes ago.”

“Have you tried the door?” She pushed to her feet, and her legs wobbled. Slowly, she breathed out. Okay. She shifted her weight. Man, the phone was pressed under her right breast before the gown tightened at the waist. Apparently they hadn’t searched her that closely.

“Yep. Locked.” Greg eyed her. “Probably well guarded by guys with guns. Maybe sit back down? You look like—”

Dizziness assailed her, and she dropped.

Greg lunged and slid between her head and the wall. Her temple glanced off his chest, and she kept sliding down. He grabbed her by the armpits and settled her gently, pressing her back against the bricks. “Sit for a few minutes,” he murmured, crouching next to her. “We really can’t do anything at the moment.”