A Wicked Seduction (13 page)

Cole's colorful curse broke through her thoughts and jolted her back to the present. “You're not thinking straight, Jo, and you're going to do something stupid if you haven't already. Or worse, go and get yourself hurt or killed just like Brian.”

Her whole body jerked at his verbal slap. The sting of his words rippled through her and made her stomach cramp. Cole doubted her ability to make level-headed decisions, to decipher right from wrong, and while a part of her couldn't blame him for letting her past actions speak for themselves, she had to wonder if she'd ever get past the stigma that had haunted her for the past two years. Weakness. Incompetence. A sense of failure. Would everyone forever question her credibility and mental stability when it came to risky situations? The guilt of the past was hers to bear, but what did she have to do to absolve herself of all the doubts that colored everyone's opinion of her?

She inhaled a steadying breath. “Your confidence in me is overwhelming.”

“Dammit, Jo, I didn't mean it like that,” he said, his tone holding nuances of contrition, but the damage had already been done. “I worry about you, and I think this guy is trying to snow you.”

And, bottom line, Cole didn't think she could handle the situation or Dean. “Think whatever you'd like,” she said, her voice cool. “He's given me every reason to believe him. I even found a new driver's license and credit cards that corroborated his story.”

“There's ten thousand dollars riding on this guy, Jo,” he said, ignoring her attempt to sway him to her
way of thinking. “Don't blow it for me, you, or Vince.”

“You can't claim bond on an innocent man,” she snapped, her temper getting the best of her.

“You can't know that until we have proof,” he returned just as testily. “What the hell is going on with you, Jo?”

“Nothing I'm not grown up enough to handle.” Too late, she'd revealed way more than she'd intended. “Call Vince, make him aware of the situation, and if all goes well with getting the Suburban repaired, I'll see you at the office sometime tomorrow.” She disconnected the line before her brother could say anything more, and went one step further and shut down her cell phone so he couldn't call her back tonight.

Standing, she set the phone on the dresser, feeling frustrated and mentally drained. And no matter how she tried to block her brother's doubts from her mind, she couldn't stop Cole's harsh words from echoing in her head, over and over…
You're not thinking straight, Jo, and you're going to do something stupid if you haven't already.

She knew her brother was referring to something dangerous and life-threatening as far as her “prisoner” was concerned, but she realized that the only thing in jeopardy in relation to Dean was her heart. In a short amount of time he'd shaken up the very guarded life in which she'd lived the past two years. Yet, despite the emotional threat Dean posed, despite knowing that each encounter with him pulled her in
deeper and deeper, he drew her even now in a way she couldn't ignore.

The need she'd developed for Dean was strong, scary, but undeniable. Wanting to forget her brother's lecture and all the turmoil that awaited her back in San Francisco, and aching to savor this last night with Dean and the mindless pleasure he gave her, she gave in to the sensual cravings and deepest desires he evoked. One more memory to make and cherish before Dean claimed his life back and they went their separate ways.

Stripping out of her clothes, she entered the bathroom and opened the glass enclosure where Dean was soaping up his chest and arms. Steam billowed around her, kissing the tips of her taut breasts, dampening her skin, and heating her just as much as his appreciative gaze that consumed her in one sweeping glance.

She touched a hand to the sheen of moisture gathering between her breasts and followed the trail to her belly, marveling at the fact that she didn't possess an ounce of modesty or inhibition with this highly sexual man. Amazed, too, that she could enthrall him as much as he excited her. And for the moment, for tonight, that's all that mattered.

“Mind if I join you?” she asked softly.

A wicked grin curved his mouth. “Sure. I could use someone to scrub my back and all those other hard-to-reach places.”

She smiled in return, already feeling her spirits lift
and the last bit of her conversation with Cole fade away. “Only if you'll scrub mine, too.”

“Now that would be my pleasure,” he drawled, and moved back to make room for her in the small cubicle.

She stepped into the shower and closed the glass door, cocooning them in steam and moisture and heat. Lots of heat. He reached out and tucked his finger beneath her chin, lifting her face so she was staring into his compelling eyes that seemed to search deep into her soul and see vulnerable emotions she tried so hard to hide from everyone else.

“Hey, you okay?” he murmured.

The man was so in tune to her shifting feelings, so concerned about her welfare, despite how much he wanted her. “Yeah, I'm just fine,” she assured him, and took the soapy washcloth from his hand. “Now turn around so I can scrub your back.”

He hesitated a moment, then did as she ordered. She swept the terry cloth across his broad shoulders, and took her time washing the slope of his spine, his hips, buttocks and thighs. Warm water drizzled over them, rinsing away the soapy suds and leaving his skin smooth and slick to the touch.

And touch him, she did. Letting the washcloth drop to the tiled floor, she slipped her hands around to his chest and skimmed her palms down to his abdomen while lapping the moisture from his neck with her tongue. Standing on tiptoes, she deliberately pressed her wet breasts along his back, her feminine mound to his buttocks, and rubbed sinuously against him as
she trailed her lips along his jaw. With a low, needy moan, he turned his head, his mouth seeking hers, but she continued to tease him with soft, fleeting kisses as her fingers delved through dense curls and wrapped around the hard, straining length of his erection.

He instinctively bucked his hips, sliding his shaft more snugly into her grip, and she squeezed him tight and brushed her thumb over the silky, pulsing head of his penis. He sucked in a harsh breath and grabbed her wrist before she could increase the exquisite friction and send him over the edge.

In one fluid motion he managed to turn them both around, so that he was standing behind her now, and flattened her hands on the wall in front of her. She turned her face away from the shower spray drenching her, and he pushed the spigot downward, so the stream of water cascaded over her breasts, licked across her belly, caressed the length of her legs and trickled along the tender flesh in between her thighs like the soft, delicate lap of his tongue. Her provocative thoughts mingled with erotic sensation, heightening her awareness and making her entire body swell with shameless anticipation.

Holding her hands in place on the wall, he insinuated his bare foot and knee between her legs and widened her stance even more. “Have
you
ever been frisked before, Jo?”

A shiver of excitement coursed through her, adding to the chaotic rush of water over her sensitized skin. Professionally, during training, yes, she'd been patted down, but never, ever by a man who turned her on
and set her senses on fire with a hunger and desire she couldn't seem to control.

“Not like this,” she whispered, wanting this, wanting him.

“It's a standard search, Ms. Sommers,” he drawled into her ear, his amusing words reminiscent of the same ones she'd spoken to him when she'd taken him into custody. “Just to be sure you aren't carrying any concealed weapons.”

She laughed huskily, then groaned as his hands slid down her wet arms, cupped her breasts in his palms and his thumbs flicked over her nipples in a tantalizing caress. Flirtatious and teasing, he skimmed his fingers over her curves, along her sleek skin, down the length of her body, slowly, sensuously, bringing nerve endings alive with desire. It didn't escape her notice that he was once again holding the reins of this seduction, controlling her every response and ultimate surrender, yet she was too aroused, too needy, to care.

“Ummm, only one more place to check,” he said, and straightened, bringing their bodies flush, his chest to her back, his groin to her bottom, where his thick erection nestled provocatively. He slipped a hand around to her belly, coasted lower, and parted her swollen, aching flesh with long fingers. She moaned. His first probing touch felt so hot, so acute…and she felt so sensitive, so wet—ready and primed for a wild, uninhibited orgasm.

“Oh, yeah,” he encouraged in a low growl against her neck. “Come for me, Joelle, just like this…”

With skillful, knowing strokes—the same strokes
she'd taught him that afternoon in the truck—he turned her body to liquid, her mind to mush, and pushed her to the very edge of ecstasy. The pressure and tension spiraled to an exquisite pitch, and then she was falling and crying out and shuddering as pure, carnal pleasure shook her to the very core of her being.

She gulped air into her lungs, and her quivering legs buckled. He caught her around the waist, holding her up, keeping her safe in the shelter of his arms, then turned her around in his embrace. Dark, glittering eyes met hers, and he pressed her up against the stall while lukewarm water showered down upon them. He crushed his lips to hers, parting them easily, and kissed her long, deep and hard as the entire length of his body moved restlessly against hers. Their wet skin rubbed, igniting a fire deep within.

Needing more, Jo wrenched her mouth from Dean's as a feverish sound escaped her throat, as did the softest of pleas. “Dean, I want you inside me. Please.”

“I'm there,” he promised, and tucked his hands beneath her bottom, spreading her knees wide as he lifted her feet off the ground. Wedging his thighs in between hers, he pulled her supple, giving body back down to his and buried his rigid erection to the hilt.

A searing heat shimmered through her and a startled gasp ripped from her chest. Her shoulders were braced against the wall for leverage, and she automatically wrapped her arms around his neck and
clenched her legs tight around his hips to help hold on.

“Oh, God, are you sure about this position?” she asked breathlessly, so incredibly aroused she knew she wouldn't last long, even this second time.

“Oh, yeah, I'm very sure,” he whispered in her ear, his words confident, his breath hot. “There's something to be said for being a featherweight. All you have to do is hang on, sweetheart, and enjoy the ride.”

With a strength and agility that amazed her, he gripped her hips in his large, strong hands and worked her body precisely the way he wanted, exactly the way she craved. He surged deep inside her, withdrew, slid upward once more, pushing into her, over and over. He felt so vibrant, so alive, like a flame burning inside her, consuming her. She clung to him as he increased the rhythm of his thrusts, as he sank deeper into her soft, welcoming body.

And still, it wasn't enough.

Wet, slippery skin created an unbearable friction, and she tangled her fingers in his wet, silky hair as she arched into him with every thrust, fusing them more intimately. His harsh breathing quickened against her throat as his hips pushed more forcefully against her, pumping harder, faster. A frenzied need built, sizzling hot and immediate. Demanding in its intensity.

Pleasure swelled to a bursting point then exploded, dragging them both under at the same time. He caught
her moans of ecstasy with his mouth as the pulsing spasms shaking his body rippled into hers.

Boneless and sated, he eased her down the wall until he was kneeling on the tiled floor with her straddling his waist and their bodies still joined. His heartbeat thundered against her chest, and she relished the connection, the quiet, perfect intimacy of the moment.

Cool water cascaded over them, chasing away the heat that had scorched them both. She brushed a kiss to his full, soft lips and pressed her forehead against his. “It seems
you're
the only one with a concealed weapon,” she teased.

He grinned lazily. “At least I know what to do with it.”

She chuckled at his sexy reply. “Oh, that you do, Mr. Colter.”

His gaze turned a deep, serious shade of jade that was underscored with a wealth of tenderness—the kind she'd had very little of in her lifetime. “I think I'm addicted to you, Jo Sommers.”

She swallowed hard, fearing the same thing, that this man was quickly becoming a habit she didn't want to shake. And she had no idea what she was going to do about the growing obsession.

A
FTER A NIGHT
of intense pleasure and incredible, erotic passion, Dean was disappointed, but not entirely surprised, that Jo had woken that morning with her emotions withdrawn and tucked neatly away, and her demeanor all business and much too formal. They'd eaten breakfast at a local diner, then walked the one block to the service station to wait for the Suburban to be repaired. Since hitting the road hours ago, she'd adeptly avoided any deep, serious conversation that might lead to something more personal—such as their current relationship and what lay ahead for them…if anything at all.

Gone was the teasing between them. And gone was the warm and willing woman who'd allowed him free, uninhibited access to her body and desires, to be replaced by a contemplative and quiet young lady who seemed to disregard all the intimacies that they'd shared the past two days. And the closer they got to their destination, the more emotional distance each mile seemed to put between him and Jo.

Shifting restlessly in his car seat, Dean exhaled a low, heavy breath. Despite his frustration, he kept his concentration on the stretch of freeway Jo was navi
gating toward San Francisco, his gaze off the silent woman sitting beside him, and his thoughts to himself. The latter was the most difficult since there was so much he wanted to say to her, so many uncertainties he wanted to talk about in terms of them, together.

In a very short amount of time he'd grown to care for Jo in ways he'd never anticipated. Hell, he knew his feelings for her went deeper than just fondness and affection and sexual desire, encompassing emotions and needs that made his head spin and his heart pump hard in his chest. He wasn't willing to walk away from her with nothing more than a friendly goodbye once his name was cleared, yet she'd never indicated she wanted anything more than a brief fling. He also knew he had no right to ask her for something more long-term when he had to get his own life in order.

In the meantime, no matter how difficult, he'd respect the personal boundaries Jo had erected since this morning, even though he hated being shut out in the process. If he'd learned one thing about this stubborn, self-sufficient woman, he knew she needed her space and didn't appreciate being pressured, coddled, or backed into a corner with ultimatums.

By the time they finally pulled up to a one-story brick building with the company name Sommers Investigative Specialists etched on the front door, the tension surrounding Jo and in the truck was nearly palpable. The emotional distance between them was
as wide as the Golden Gate Bridge he'd glimpsed on the way to her brother's offices.

She cut the engine, allowed a deep sigh to unravel out of her, then glanced his way. “Well, here we are. One step closer to you being a free man.”

He chuckled, trying to lighten the moment between them. “I never thought I'd love hearing the sound of that.”

The faint smile he'd managed to glean faltered and shifted into a more serious expression. “Dean…I know you're innocent but, just so you know, Cole isn't too thrilled that you aren't cuffed and restrained, despite what I think or feel.”

The realization that she'd defended him to her brother pleased him immensely. “You told him I'm innocent?”

She nodded and rubbed her palms down her jean-clad thighs. “Yeah, last night when I called him. I tried to explain about your last visit to San Francisco and someone stealing your ID and assuming your identity, but he was skeptical.”

Skeptical of not only him as a runaway felon, but also of Jo's decision to leave him free and unbound, he realized. Her admission of that fact had obviously cost her a good chunk of trust and respect from her brother. Reaching across the distance separating them, he gently brushed his fingertips along her cheek and threaded them through her silky hair. He needed that connection with her before they walked into the office, met with her brother, and everything between them shifted and changed even more.

“Thank you, Jo,” he said, his voice low and rich with meaning.

A small frown marred her brows. “For what?”

He smiled, wishing he had a direct link to what was going on in that head of hers. Then again, maybe he was better off not knowing. “For believing in me.” Cupping the back of her head in his palm, he drew her mouth to his and kissed her softly, letting his lips linger on hers so he could savor her sweet taste.

She was the first to pull back, her reluctance to go further, to give more, tangible—as was the resistance she struggled to maintain with him. He stared into her eyes, saw a deeper longing that contradicted all her attempts to remain detached, and knew in that moment that somehow, some way, he had to find a way to convince her that he believed in her, too.

 

W
ITH A DEEP BREATH
for fortitude, Jo pushed open the glass door leading into the reception area of Sommers Investigative Specialists and stepped inside, with Dean close behind. As soon as she met Melodie's apologetic gaze from across the room, she knew the confrontation to come with her brother wasn't going to be an easy one.

The receptionist punched the intercom button on the phone to her right, her gaze drifting to Dean with unabashed curiosity. “Cole, Jo's back.”

Jo stopped in front of Melodie's desk, unable to blame the younger woman for doing her job, and knowing without a shadow of doubt that Cole had
instructed his secretary to inform him immediately upon Jo's arrival. “I'm surprised the fire-breathing dragon wasn't standing guard at the front door,” she said wryly.

Melodie smothered a grin. “He's definitely been agitated all morning. Thank God Noah showed up about a half hour ago to turn in his surveillance report on the Blythes' divorce case—it's kept both of them in Cole's office and out of my hair. Before that, he was pacing through the reception area and driving me nuts.”

Seconds later, Cole and Noah emerged from the hallway leading to their individual offices. Cole rushed forward, his stride swift with purpose, while Noah, the more lax of the two, hung back and let their older sibling take charge, as always. While Cole was aggressive in business and even in personal matters, Noah wasn't one to dive into a predicament without first analyzing the situation from every possible angle.

Jo wasn't sure which brother she found more unnerving at the moment, considering they were both dissecting Dean in completely opposite ways—Cole with open distrust, and Noah with reserved scrutiny and interest. And then there was Dean, who stood calmly beside her, the tips of his fingers casually pushed into the pockets of his jeans and his stance and expression relaxed. He took Cole's blatant suspicion in stride, possibly because she'd warned him of her brother's attitude up-front. At any rate, Dean's cool, unruffled composure made her want to grin because it seemed to annoy Cole even more.

No introductions were necessary, and since Cole didn't seem inclined to partake of a friendly handshake with Dean, Jo didn't bother with pleasantries. “Did you call Vince?”

Cole unclenched his tight jaw. “Yeah, I called him,” he replied gruffly, and transferred his dark blue gaze back to her. “He finds your story just as hard to believe as I do.”

She lifted her chin a few notches, wondering how she'd been so unfortunate as to end up with all the short genes when both of her brothers were over six feet tall. “Then it's a matter of taking Dean in, getting him fingerprinted, and verifying his credibility.”

Cole crossed his arms over his broad chest, his gaze narrowing on Dean. “Yeah, I guess so.”

As if sensing the growing tension between brother and sister and accused felon, Noah stepped forward. “I'll take him down to the precinct and handle the paperwork to clear his name.”

Cole and Noah had been protecting and sheltering her for so long that it was an automatic reaction for them to step in and take over, despite that Dean was her skip and her responsibility. For once, Jo didn't put up an argument. She didn't have the energy to spar with either brother, nor did she want to make a scene in front of Dean.

Besides, if she was honest with herself, a part of her was grateful for the reprieve. She needed distance and time away from Dean, to gather her wits and put things back in proper perspective—mentally and emotionally.

“I'm Noah Sommers,” her brother introduced himself. He extended his hand toward the man standing patiently beside her, and Jo appreciated the display of trust Noah, at least, was offering on her behalf.

“Dean Colter.” A half grin canted Dean's lips as he accepted Noah's amicable gesture. “But then you already knew that.”

A dark brow lifted in amusement. “But which Dean Colter are you really?” Noah asked, openly joking about his claim of mistaken identity.

Dean chuckled, completely at ease with the situation. “We'll find out soon enough, now won't we?”

“We certainly will.” Noah withdrew his car keys from his front pocket and cast Jo and Cole a quick glance. “We'll be back in a few hours.”

Noah headed for the front door, but Dean didn't immediately follow. Instead, he turned toward her, his gaze seeking and finding hers. The silence that suddenly descended over the room as everyone waited to hear what he had to say to her was deafening.

“I'll see you later?” he asked, his tone low and intimate and filled with expectation.

A blush swept across her cheeks, and Jo hated that everyone was privy to that telltale sign. “Sure,” she said, striving for a nonchalance to counteract the flush of awareness heating her skin. She'd see him one last time—to drive him to the airport and send him back to Washington before she fell any harder or deeper for him.

With that promise from her, Dean was out the door and gone, leaving her to deal with Cole's brooding
silence as he stormed off toward his office, and the eager fascination glimmering in Melodie's eyes. She thought about following her brother and confronting him, but she already knew what he thought and felt—about her and the situation with Dean. He'd made his disapproval abundantly clear, and she knew from past experience there was no reasoning with Cole when his mind was set, so she didn't even try.

She returned to her private office, planning to spend the rest of the afternoon burying her thoughts in outstanding cases awaiting her attention. Unfortunately, her peaceful, solitary break wasn't to be granted. Before she had the opportunity to sit down in the chair behind her desk, Melodie slipped into her office after a quick knock on the door.

“You had a few calls this morning,” she said, waving the pink message slips she held in her hand.

“Thank you.” Jo accepted the notes and glanced through the messages, penned in Melodie's neat, efficient handwriting. None was urgent or important, thank goodness.

Apparently in no hurry to leave, Melodie settled into one of the chairs in front of Jo's desk and crossed one leg over the other. “Who would have thought that an escaped felon could be sooo sexy and charming.”

There was no mistaking who she was referring to. “Dean isn't an escaped felon.”

Melodie grinned in satisfaction. “Ahh, that may be true, but you didn't deny that he was sexy and charming.”

She shot her friend a direct look. “And your point is?”

“I'm going to ask what no one else in this office has the nerve to,” she said, displaying a gutsiness that surprised Jo, since Melodie was normally so reserved. Too bad she couldn't bring herself to use that bold assertiveness on Cole who could use a good dose of his own medicine from his secretary.

Jo shuffled through the paperwork and reports she'd left on her desk last Friday to attend to when she returned to the office. “And what question is that?”

Melodie leaned forward, her eyes alight with anticipation. “Is there something going on between you and Dean?”

“What makes you ask that?” she asked without missing a beat.

“Aww, come on, Jo.
You
might have done a decent job at avoiding the attraction between the two of you out in the reception area, but judging by the intimate way Dean kept on looking at you it was obvious that
something's
going on.”

Jo inwardly cringed. If Melodie had seen and sensed the sensual connection between her and Dean, then no doubt so had her brothers. However, she wasn't about to admit to anything.

Melodie continued. “And since I can only dream of my own fantasy man looking at me that way, let me live vicariously through you.”

Unbidden, images flashed in her mind, of Dean dragging ice over her breasts and belly and following
the cold trail with his heated mouth, his strong body moving over hers, in hers, slow and sure, coaxing her surrender which she'd given him willingly. Numerous times.

Jo shook her head, as much to dismiss Melodie's question as to clear her mind of those provocative and very private scenarios she had no intention of sharing with anyone. “Sorry, but there's nothing to tell.”

Melodie regarded her for a few extra seconds. “I think you're holding out on me, but just so you know, I'm here if you need to talk.”

Jo said nothing more, and just then the phone rang, saving her from any further response. With one last encouraging smile, Melodie hustled out of her office to take the call at her own desk.

Dropping into her chair with a heavy, soul-deep exhale, Jo leaned back and closed her eyes, forcing herself to relax. Much to her relief, everyone left her alone for the rest of the afternoon to work through her abduction cases on the Internet, until Noah returned with Dean a few hours later.

Saving the document she'd been typing up on her computer, Jo watched as Dean sauntered into her office with an easygoing grin that made her pulse flutter and need coil deep in her belly. No matter how much she wanted to give in to her desires when it came to this earthy, sexual man, she struggled to squash the sensations. She was determined to keep things between them platonic from here on out. Another couple of hours, and he'd be long gone. No sense compli
cating matters by giving in to the temptation he presented.