Apache Nights (5 page)

Their bodies bumped. He was too tall for her, but with heels, she made an erotic fit. He liked the way she felt next to him. Warm and womanly, with her pulse battering his. “Are you ready to dance?”

She nodded. “I'm ready.”

They separated, and he took her hand. Damn if he wasn't aroused, if her anxiety didn't excite him.

They walked to the parking lot and put their packages in his SUV, then returned to the restaurant, where the nightlife thrived.

The band played a variety of music, songs that went from slow to fast to somewhere in between. Some riffs were twangy, some were sleek and sensual.

Kyle guided Joyce onto the dance floor and they
found the rhythm. They moved, hip to hip, rocking back and forth. There wasn't a lot of space. Other couples crowded them, forcing them toward the edge of the stage.

Then suddenly she slid her hands inside his jacket.

Talk about getting turned on. “Are you frisking me?”

She went lower. “You told me you wouldn't mind a repeat performance.” She grazed the front of his pants, but there was no SIG, no semiautomatic weapon to bust him for. The hardness was him.

He wanted to haul her against his fly, to make damn sure she felt it. He wanted to pull down the front of her dress, too. Right here, right now. His mind was spinning, going in lethal directions. “Maybe you better be careful.”

“Me?” She backed him against a wall, where the music vibrated. They weren't on the dance floor anymore. They were in a darkened corner. “I have the law on my side.”

“And I'm bigger than you. Stronger.” He switched places, pinning her against the wall. “If I go home with you tonight, your badge won't matter.” He snared her wrists, holding them above her head. “It won't mean a thing.”

She didn't fight him off. But she didn't submit, either. She challenged him instead, looking into his eyes. “Who says I'm letting you come home with me?”

“No one. I'm just giving you fair warning.” He released her. “You were afraid earlier.”

“And you said that sometimes being afraid can be good.”

“It can. As long as it brings out a person's survival skills.” He smoothed her hair. “I still don't know what's going on in your life. If you can survive what's happening between us.”

She barely blinked. “I already told you that I wasn't looking for anything beyond an affair.”

Yeah, she'd told him. Last night. While she'd been on the defense. He wasn't sure if that counted. “What if you're too confused to know what you want?”

“I'm not going to get attached, not to a guy like you.” She batted his hand away from her hair. “That's not what scares me.”

“Then what is it?”

“Edgy sex. I'm afraid I'll do things to you that I've never done before. That I'll let you do even kinkier stuff to me.”

His heart struck his chest. “Really?”

“Really.”

“In that case.” He grabbed her and kissed her, and when she reacted like a black widow, nearly swallowing him whole, he gave up the fight, dragging her against his body. If she wanted to eat him alive, he would let her.

But he didn't know if she was going to take the
next step, if she would actually invite him to her bed. Kyle didn't take anything for granted.

Especially women.

A
fter their date ended, Kyle and Joyce arrived at her apartment building. He pulled into a guest-parking stall and killed the engine.

Joyce didn't know what to say, what to do. If she asked him to come upstairs with her, it wouldn't be for a nightcap. They were beyond that point.

It was sex or nothing at all.

He turned to look at her, and her pulse went crazy, electrifying every part of her body.

“Have you ever done it in a car?” he asked.

She tried to maintain her composure. She'd never met anyone quite like him. “No. Have you?”

“Are you kidding?” He shot her a teasing grin.
“Me?” He reached over and opened the glove compartment. “Check out the condoms.”

Sure enough, there was a variety pack crammed into the tight space. “You're not supposed to store them where they can be exposed to heat. It will damage the latex.”

“I know. But I don't keep them here for extended periods of time. I'm careful about that. I replace them as often as I can.”

“It's indecent exposure,” she said, itching to riffle through the box.

“What is?”

“Having sex in a car.”

“That's what makes it so fun.”

She gave in and grabbed the condoms. She poked through the box, raising her eyebrows at him when she came across a glow-in-the-dark style.

He shrugged and then laughed. “They're phosphorous.”

“Only a man like you would use his penis for a night-light.”

He laughed again. “I'm a novelty kind of guy.” He moved closer to her, leaning across the center console. “These are my favorite.” He removed several packages that had
warm sensations
written on them. “They're lubricated with this stuff that makes both partners feel warm and tingly.”

Joyce was already feeling warm and tingly. His
face was only inches from hers. He was close enough to kiss, to taste, to tempt, to tease.

They stared at each other, and then his eyes, his tiger's gaze, made a predator's sweep, moving up and down. She couldn't help it. Her nipples went hard.

“I want you to take off your dress,” he said.

So did she. She wanted to strip down to her panties and bra and climb in his lap. But if they got caught, her job would be on the line. Law-abiding detectives didn't have sex in cars, in public places where they could be seen.

He whispered against her ear. “You're thinking about it, aren't you?”

“Yes.”

“Then do it.”

“I can't.”

“Then let me do it.”

She shook her head. “You're trying to corrupt me.”

“Then tell me to go home. Send me away.”

“I can't do that, either.” She traced the angles of his face, the sculpted edges, the hollow ridges, the untamed beauty. “I want you to stay.”

His lips formed a sensual slant, exposing a flash of teeth. “Now
you're
trying to corrupt
me
.”

“I don't think that's possible.”

“Yes, it is. You, with your pretty blond hair and cop-girl ways. I shouldn't be with a lady like you.”
He glanced at her satin handbag. “Do you have handcuffs in your purse?”

“What? No.” She tried to calm the pounding in her chest, the runaway beats of her heart. “I don't bring handcuffs on dates.”

“Do you have some in your apartment?”

“Yes.”

“Can I lock you up with them?” he asked. “Would you trust me to do that?”

“Is this a trick question?”

“No.” He slid his hands through her hair, then put a strand a across her mouth. “No trick.”

She gripped his shoulders, and he kissed her, sucking on her tongue and her hair. She closed her eyes, loving every second of what he was doing.

When he let her go, she wanted to crawl all over him. But she was nervous, too. The anxiety of being with him hadn't gone away.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I'm fine.”

“You don't look fine.”

She dropped her hand to her knee, curling her fingers around her dress. She didn't know how to explain her feelings, how to tell him what he did to her. “You overwhelm me, Kyle.”

“I can't change who I am.” He frowned, then smoothed her hair, taming the strand that had been
in his mouth. “I'm crude and hard. I'm not good at being romantic.”

“I don't care about hearts and flowers.” And his touch was gentler than it should have been, much too tender for a man who claimed to be so hard. “That's the last thing I want.”

“Maybe so. But most women like that kind of stuff. Why would you be any different?”

“I just am.”

“But why?” He pierced her with a ravening gaze, with a look that was becoming all too familiar. “Because you're a cop? Is that what sets you apart?”

“Yes.” That and her determination to stop herself from lusting after a husband, from wanting a baby.

“Then get edgy with me, Detective. Make our cravings worthwhile.”

“I will. I am.” As a surge of adrenaline spiked her veins, she gave herself permission to enjoy him, to take him upstairs, to keep him.

All night long.

 

Kyle and Joyce entered her apartment, and when she closed the door, he watched her turn the dead bolt and latch the chain, locking them inside.

He'd brought their packages in from the car. He'd brought the entire box of condoms, too, stuffing them into one of the bags. He intended to have a wicked
time with Detective Riggs. He couldn't remember wanting a woman so badly.

She didn't say anything, and neither did he. They stood in the living room with two Tiffany-style lamps burning brightly. The mottled glass shades created a prism of color. They were pretty, but they weren't the real thing. Kyle had a hundred year old Tiffany lamp in storage that would probably blow her away. He wondered if she would think he was crazy if he gave it to her.

She clutched her handbag, and he noticed the simple gold clasp. Was she being honest about the hearts-and-flowers thing? Maybe. And maybe not. She still had some issues in her life that she refused to talk about.

“Is sex going to help?” he asked.

She set her purse down. “With what?”

“Your problems.”

She managed a risqué smile. “I hope so.”

“More than sparring with me? More than our training sessions?”

“I can't spar with you in bed?”

Now it was his turn to smile. “Does it have to happen in bed?” He gestured to her flowery sofa, to the dining room table, to a chair that would probably collapse with their combined weight. “We could attack the rest of your furniture. Or the floor. Or maybe the concrete on the balcony.” He watched her eyes go wide. “I'm not picky.”

“I want you in bed.” She took his arm and led him down the hall.

He didn't complain. He liked being a willing captive. Besides, he took one look around her room and got even more turned on. It was soft and feminine, with a white quilt and lacy sheers. She even had a vanity table with a gilded mirror and perfume bottles on the marble top. A 9mm Glock rested on the vanity, too.

Before he could draw his next breath, she tossed handcuffs onto the bed. Kyle nearly fell to his knees. The double-locking device was even sexier than her gun.

He emptied their shopping bags, where the condoms, lip sugar and bubble bath tumbled onto the quilt. The toys fell out, too.

Suddenly they both laughed.

And then they stared at each other.

“Will you take your dress off for me?” he asked.

She nodded and reached for the zipper. He watched and waited, his skin going warm. The metal teeth made a sliding sound.

Finally she dropped the dress and stepped out of it. She wore a black push-up bra, matching panties and thigh-high hose, the modern kind without garters. The tops were banded in lace, where they stayed up on their own.

“You're beautiful,” he told her.

She closed her eyes, held them tightly shut, then opened them. “That sounded romantic.”

Damn.
“It did?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry.” He righted the compliment. “You look like one of those girls who jump out of cakes.”

She adjusted her bra, exposing more cleavage. “That's better.”

He walked over to her. In spite of her bravado, he could tell she was nervous. Earlier, he'd reminded her that he was bigger and stronger. That her badge wouldn't matter. Yet she'd offered him her handcuffs anyway.

Was she regretting her decision?

“I won't hurt you, Joyce.”

“I trust you.”

“No, you don't. Not completely.” But he wanted her to enjoy the experience, to have fun, to let her inhibitions go. “We don't have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

“I know, but…”

“But what?”

“Edgy sex scares me.” She fussed with her bra again. By now the tops of her areolas were exposed, and her legs were slightly parted, her stance long and lean. “Yet I'm willing to chance it. At least with you.”

He wanted to tell her that she was even more beautiful than before, but not at the risk of sounding ro
mantic. “The parts of our brain that control fear, anxiety and arousal are close together.” He kept his gaze locked onto hers. “So close that a little bit of nervousness can enhance the pleasure.”

“When are you going to do it?”

He knew she was talking about the handcuffs. “Later.”

“How much later?”

“After we're both naked.” He removed his boots, then bared himself to the waist, leaving his jeans intact. For now, he wanted to focus on her.

Anxious, he moved forward, reached around, unhooked her bra and got rid of it. Her breasts spilled into his hands. She made a sweet sound, and he thumbed her nipples. Pink and pearled, they stood out against the whiteness of her skin. She was so different from him, so soft and fair.

Fascinated, he went lower, moving to her stomach. She had an athletic body, perfect for a man's greedy touch. Next he toyed with the waistband of her panties. She quivered, and he slipped his hand inside, then used two fingers, plunging deep.

Quick and hard.

He barely gave her time to think. She gasped, and he smiled. “Surprise attack.”

She gripped his shoulders. “You're good at that.”

“Glad you think so.” Kyle pulled her panties down, and her knees nearly buckled. He caught her
before she fell, stumbling to the bed, taking her with him.

He pushed the toys, bubble bath, condoms and handcuffs to the edge of the mattress, leaving the flavored gloss at his disposable.

He opened the shimmering pots, then handed her the watermelon flavor. “Are you ready to play, Detective?”

Her voice vibrated. “Yes.”

“Then be bad for me,” he said, challenging her to take control, to lead them both into temptation. “As naughty as you can get.”

 

Joyce couldn't believe what she was doing. Messing around with a man she barely knew. Getting caught up in sinful games, in the thrill of dangerous sex.

She took the gloss and painted it around her belly button, then drew a line downward, stopping before she reached her pubis.

“Do it there,” he said.

Her pulse skipped. She wasn't ready. She needed more time. More courage. “Not yet.”

She put a dollop inside her navel, then went in the other direction, dabbing the gloss onto her nipples, moving in tiny circles, encouraging him to follow her path.

He did, every step of the way. He licked; he sucked; he sent erotic chills up and down her spine.

When he lifted his head, they kissed, slick and sweet and carnal. And then they rolled over the bed, knocking the condom box onto the floor. She could see the colorful packets spill onto the carpet, scattering like a pirate's treasure. The toys and bubble bath fell onto the floor, too.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, the handcuffs clanked, reminding her of what was yet to come. She'd left both sets of keys on the nightstand, where they remained at Kyle's disposal.

Was she crazy?

Sexually insane?

Her heartbeat staggered, and he pushed another container of gloss into her palm, closing her fingers around it.

“I don't want to wait anymore,” he said. “Put this between your legs. Make me taste it.”

Heaven help her. She sat up and looked at him. He was looking at her, too. Suddenly she felt like the most desirable woman in the world. He overflowed with lust. She glanced down, shifting the gloss in her hand. “Mango.”

His voice turned rough. “Lip sugar.”

Much too aroused, she opened her thighs and smeared the sticky cosmetic between her legs. And like the seductress she'd become, she still wore the lace-topped hose and black high heels.

He watched her, and she realized she was touch
ing herself for him. But she didn't care. She liked the excitement, the anticipation, the raw, ragged pleasure.

Joyce scooted closer to him, and he lifted her legs onto his shoulders. She closed her eyes, and he made love to her with his mouth. Deep and dark and hungry. He was like a tiger feasting on his favorite meal, on the prey he'd captured.

She tugged her hands through his hair and opened her eyes. “Kyle.”

He glanced up, and their gazes locked.

The intimacy hit her like a fist. She clenched her body to sustain the impact, the force of climaxing all over him, of thrashing through shuddering waves.

When it was over, when she could breathe again, she touched his face. He was still there, between her thighs, watching her.

“That was incredible,” she said.

“For me, too.” He lowered her legs from his shoulders and removed her stockings and shoes, making her more comfortable. Then he took her in his arms, holding her close.

She rested her head against his chest, telling herself this wasn't romance. But before things got too cozy, she slid her hand to his fly and unzipped his pants. “Are you as big as Olivia says?”