Skin Deep (Station Seventeen #1)(24)
“I don’t dislike you,” Kellan hedged, only to be thwarted again by her soft, throaty laugh.
“Walker, please. You went up one side of me and down the other in the motel parking lot as soon as Kylie got the all-clear, and every time you’ve seen me since, you’ve evil-eyed me into next week. I think it’s safe to say you’re not my biggest fan.”
For a second, then two, nothing but the song and the ambient noise from the bar passed between them. The familiar crossroads was right in front of him, the one with the fork that led to all the boxes where he locked shit away and the fork with the road he couldn’t think about if he wanted to retain his sanity. He had reasons for never taking that path, never digging at anything that would trigger his emotions, and they weren’t shitty. Still, Moreno had been straight with him about Burton when she could’ve just as easily clammed up.
The least he could do was return the favor.
“I was upset that Kylie was in danger three months ago, and yeah, I was pretty pissed at you and Collins over how things shook out. But my sister’s all the family I’ve got. We spent almost seven years apart when I was in the Army, and even though I know she’s tough enough to stand on her own two feet, I still want to look out for her.”
A flicker moved through Moreno’s gaze, coloring it a deep mahogany brown in the low light of the Crooked Angel. “I get that, Walker. I really do, and I’m sorry. I can’t tell you enough how much I hate that Fagan got his hands on her, even for a second.”
He thought of the vow she’d made to find whoever was hurting those girls, and damn, she really was a good cop. “I know. I’m sorry I flew off the handle in Chicago, and that I was rough on you after that. You didn’t have any way of knowing someone on Collins’s team would put Kylie in danger. I see that now.”
Moreno’s lips parted. “You do?”
“Yeah,” he said, and as much as he thought the admission might sting, his words came out with ease. “I do.”
Of course, he should’ve known better than to think Isabella would take them without dishing back. “You sure you’re feeling okay?” she asked, sliding one hand over his forehead. “You don’t have a fever, do you? Should I call a doctor?”
“Funny,” Kellan said. He meant to add on to his sarcasm, after all, Moreno was clearly tough enough to take it. But all at once he realized how close they were, their bodies suddenly flush, her fingers cradling his face with her smart, sinful mouth right there in front of his, and every thought in his brain shorted out to head south.
Her smile slipped, awareness edging over her pretty features as if she’d landed in the same place Kellan had. But rather than pulling away, Isabella stood firm, replacing her arm around his shoulder while they swayed to something far more primal than some pop ballad. She pressed against him, her body moving with slow, hot suggestion, and even though he knew it made him a bastard of the highest order, Kellan didn’t budge. He tested his grasp on her waist, increasing the pressure of his fingers in slow increments. Moreno’s chest melted against his even harder with the weight of her exhale, and a dark thread of satisfaction uncurled in Kellan’s belly, taunting his fingers to dig even harder over her T-shirt.
So he let them. And when Isabella cut out another heady breath that warmed his neck and stirred his cock, curling her fingertips into his shoulders with just as much provocative intention, he realized that if they kept upping the ante, neither one of them would back down.
Which meant that if they weren’t careful, he and Isabella were going to dare each other right past racy flirting and into a quick, hot fuck in the bathroom.
You helped this woman on a case just over twelve hours ago, you ass. You need to lock it up. Right goddamn now.
Kellan froze as if he’d been hit point-blank with a bucket full of frigid water. As sexy as her body felt against his in the dark of the bar—and fucking hell, it really, really did—he knew far better than to let himself get so brazenly carried away on impulse.
Losing control was dangerous. He couldn’t let it happen. Not even for a night.
“Ah.” He shifted to put some breathing room between them, snapping the moment in half. “So how’s that case from this morning going? Did you get any leads from your friend?”
After a handful of rapid-fire blinks, Moreno matched his backward shift, putting clear distance between them as the song on the jukebox shifted into a new one, equally slow. “Oh. Uh, maybe. She’s working at the pizza place until eleven tonight. I’m actually going to head over there tonight to see if I can catch her and maybe dig up some more information.”
“Is your partner going with you?” Kellan lifted his chin in a slight gesture toward the table by the door, where her fellow detectives had been eyeballing them at regular intervals.
“What, Hollister?” Moreno shook her head, filling the air with the tropical smell of coconuts again even though there was enough space between their bodies to be all-business. “No. I haven’t told anyone about this morning yet.”
His heart kicked at his rib cage, part concern and part residual want. Damned coconuts. “You’re going down to the pier just shy of midnight, by yourself, to grab some intel on what might be a serial rape case or a prostitution ring?”
“Yeah,” Moreno said, her tone directly translating to and why the hell wouldn’t I?