Extreme Danger (McClouds & Friends #5)(95)

She shivered at the implied threat in his low voice. “Stop trying to intimidate me, Nick. I do not appreciate it.”

“And I don’t appreciate you skipping town, chasing around after dangerous criminals. You didn’t call me! You could have gotten killed!”

“That’s true, and I’ll be the first to admit it, but why can’t I make you understand that it was a one time opportunity, goddamnit!” she yelled. “It was me or it was nobody, Nick! I knew she was going someplace significant, and there was just no time to—”

“How did you know where she was going?” he cut in.

“Do you want to hear this story told properly, from start to finish?” she shot back. “Or shall I just go?”

“Oh, you aren’t going anywhere,” he said softly. “No longer an option.”

“You’re doing it again.” She waggled an admonishing finger at him. “Don’t threaten me, you big rude lout. I saw an opportunity to find out something useful, and I took it before it slipped away forever. I think you could be a little more appreciative of my efforts!”

“Oh, I do appreciate you,” he said. “I fully intend to appreciate the living hell out of you, all night long. What’s with those new stockings? I like the seam up the back. Very hot. Did you steal those off this Diana chick, too? How’d you pull that off? Hit her over the head?”

“I bought these at the mall on my lunch break,” she huffed. “To please you, though I’m starting to regret it. And I infuriated my now-ex-boss in the process.”

“Oh. So this is the formerly frigid lingerie you told me about in the messages. Take your clothes off, Becca. Let me see it.”

The blaze of sexual heat from him almost rocked her backwards. “Like hell.” She got up, and turned her back on him, searching for her blazer. “I’ve had enough of your crap. I just spent three very scary hours trying to help you out, and it took a lot out of me. Screw your stupid tantrums. If you’re not interested in what I discovered tonight, then I’ll just leave—owf!”

She hadn’t even seen his shadow shift before she found her back pinned to his chest, legs flailing six inches above the ground. His hard arm clamped around her middle, under her rib cage.

The world flipped, she flew, and landed, bouncing on the bed. He was on top of her before she could gather her wits to scramble away.

He was all over her. His hands pinned hers on either side of her head, his elbows flanked her shoulders, his eyes bored into hers, inches away. His breath smelled of coffee. He shifted without breaking eye contact and reached down to shove her skirt up, her thighs open, and rolled between them, rocking her hips back so that she cradled him.

The penetrating heat of his bulging erection pressed against her most intimate parts, protected only by the sheer film of stretch chiffon of her new panties. Which was to say, not protected at all.

“I told you, Becca,” he said. “You’re not going anywhere.”

She bucked and strained against his implacable weight. “This is juvenile,” she snapped. “Get off me. Right now.”

“No. Tell me your story. I like this position. This way, I don’t have to worry about you storming out in a huff when I piss you off. Since I know for a fact that I’m going to piss you off. It’s a given. Sad, but true.”

“Oh, yeah. Like you’re going to listen to me while you’re—mmph!”

He cut off her words with a fierce, hungry kiss that took her completely by surprise. She got lost in it, done in by the hunger of his surprisingly tender mouth, his magic skill at melting her, softening her, getting her off balance.

He lifted his head, his pupils dilated. “So? Go for it, babe. You have my full attention. Body and soul. I promise.”

“Can’t…breathe,” she said, wiggling.

He rolled smoothly onto his side, thrusting a leg through hers and yanking her very close.

That was much better. Sure, she was still being confined in the cage of his body, but this could almost be classified as a hug. He might be a mean, controlling bastard, but she needed the comfort of contact with his big, hot body. God knows she’d better take what comfort she could when she could. Since Nick did not excel in giving it.

She huddled gratefully inside the warm shelter of his body, and slowly, haltingly, told him the tale from the beginning: from seeing Mathes at the banquet, then overhearing him and Diana in the office, then following her to the hotel in Kimble. His face darkened when she got to the parking lot of the Starlight Lounge. Breaking into the car, stealing the sunglasses, the lipstick, impersonating Diana to search the room, those details made him hiss in disapproval, his body going rigid.

“Jesus! You’re out of your freaking skull!”

“Maybe, but is that relevant?” She hurried on before he could respond to that highly rhetorical question. “In any case, the only interesting thing I found was that box. It had seven vials of blood in it. And urine samples, and those big cotton swabs, like monster Q-tips in plastic bags.”

“Blood and urine?” He jerked up onto his elbows, frowning.

“Everything was labeled and numbered. I wrote down the numbers. Want to see?”

He nodded, and let go of her, sitting up on the bed. She was obscurely gratified that he was interested enough in her adventure to forget about his sexual power games. She fished through her purse for the scrap of paper, and handed it to him. “The first six digits looked like birthdates,” she said. “That would make them all little kids.”