Collared (Going to the Dogs) (8 page)

“What the hell did you think you were doing?!” He was beyond pissed. As much because she could have been seriously hurt with all those meatheads in there throwing around punches and chairs and beer bottles. His gut clenched thinking of even a scratch on her.

“You told me to meet you here!” Her eyes were blazing, and he had a feeling some of her reaction was adrenaline.

“I wasn’t serious!” He scoffed. She got in his face then, and his breath caught. Geezus! She was lucky he’d stopped by. She would never have gotten out of that bar alive, not with that face and that body and her freaking annoying attitude.

“Well, I was!” She shoved at his chest, but he had no intention of moving away from her just yet, not with all that racket still going on in the bar. The movement dislodged the silky braid thing she had going on with her hair, though, and more hair slid down around her flushed face.

It wouldn’t take much to get all that plaited hair to come tumbling down. And suddenly he was hard-pressed to stay on task.

“Do you hear the ruckus you started in there?” She shoved him again, this time with both hands, but they didn’t budge him an inch. Her eyes blazed blue flame, and he knew it was really messed up that he couldn’t get enough of feeling her fire.

“That wasn’t me!” she yelled. “That was you!”

“You started that bar fight the moment you sashayed in there looking like that.” He gestured with his hand up and down her body.

“Like what? Isn’t this the appropriate attire for a night playing pool?”

“
Attire
?” He ran his hands through his hair. “Unfucking
believable
! Are you under the impression you were playing ‘billiards’ with gentlemen?”

“They were on their best behavior until you came along and did that snatchy thing with my pool cue.” She realized what he had just said and she made an indignant face. “And what’s wrong with how I’m dressed? It’s appropriate for a bar.”

He just stared at her, speechless. Didn’t she get it? She looked so warm and alive. Her mouth so soft. The curve of her jaw so delicate. Her cheeks, the silky fall of the unraveling braid against her throat were he wanted to put his mouth. The wind played with the long strands, dancing on the white ruffles of her top. He planted his hands on his hips to buy time to get a grip, but his chest just grew tighter. She was so female, she had to bring out every primal instinct in any man who looked at her. Including him. Especially him. He wasn’t civilized. He was a cop and he had cut his teeth on the street. Rough, coarse and brusque. He didn’t know how to handle a delicate and refined princess like Harper.

She was elegant, sophisticated and cultured, and he was a guy who ate ravioli out of a can and slept in the buff, for chrissake. He couldn’t have her. Hell, he didn’t even know her, and if she was half as smart as he thought she was, she sure as hell wouldn’t want to know him—and he didn’t blame her. He was no catch, even on a good day, even if she could overlook the fact that he was just a cop. This case that brought them together would eventually be over.

So that just left hot, sweaty, out-of-control sex.

“Everyfuckingthing! Do you have any idea how your ass looks in those jeans, especially when you were bent over the pool table putting it on display for everyone…and that top leaving your shoulders bare! Awww, hell, you could have walked in there wearing a burlap bag. It wouldn’t matter! It’s the way you look.”

She wasn’t just pretty. She was beautiful, and he was insane. There was no other way to account for his slow, unstoppable landslide into desire. It was impossible for any sane man to look at her and not think about satin sheets, naked skin, and getting deep inside her.

“I always look like this!” she shouted, like he’d just insulted her.

“That’s exactly the problem!” he bellowed back. They stood there for a few minutes, both breathing hard.

“You need an escort for that kind of bar, and any fool man who brought you here deserves to be throttled.”

“What? I don’t need an escort.”

“Harper! That’s a rough bar and it was open season on you. I knew you wouldn’t last five minutes.”

“I was playing pool for thirty minutes before you got here!”

“I don’t care!”

She gripped his polo shirt. “Stop yelling at me! You are the most exasperating man I have ever met!”

He got right in her face and shouted. “You are the most exasperating princess I have ever met!” Too close. He was too close, and that was completely the end of his patience. His resolve broke at nothing more than a whisper of her heated breath between them.

With a soft exhalation, he said, “Fuck!” and he dropped his mouth on hers, his kiss hard, a bit out of control. She tasted amazing, rich, forbidden, and decadent. Something raw and consuming overtook him. Whether it was a part of his nature or his reaction to the taste of Harper, he didn’t know. He didn’t give a flying fuck. He had to have her. He pressed into her, and her response tightened everything in his body.

Her low sob broke against his mouth, and he shoved his hands into her hair, and all of it came tumbling down, warm and silky. Strands of buttery yellow cascaded over the backs of his hands, jacking up his breathing and the fierceness of his mouth sliding over her lips.

The flowery scent of her filled him like invisible energy with a complex mix of light, wild musk that said “woman” to him, one-hundred-percent pure female. And a deeper, un-nameable element that was simply her. Now that he’d breathed her deep into him, he wasn’t sure he could do without it.

He held her still as his mouth sizzled, hungry, and ravaging against hers. Locking her arms around him, she yielded, melting against him like hot, expensive chocolate, her hands delving into his hair, trailing fire over the nape of his neck. Her touch drove him bonkers.

Widening his stance, Caleb dragged her up against his groin, his dick so hard it ached. He forgot where he was. Forgot who he was and just sank into the sensation of her.

He was so fucking crazy, he told himself. He couldn’t think of a damn thing she’d done to slay him like this. In truth, she hadn’t done anything except be herself, and he might have accused her of being provocative, but that was just her nature. But he was slain at her feet all the same.

He gave himself up to the biggest mistake of his life. He was in so much trouble. He needed somebody to come and save him—because he wasn’t going to save himself.

No fucking way.

His beard
was
soft, but his mouth was softer, oh-so-soft and hot, and wet, and gloriously melding with her lips as if he needed her breath to live. This was the passion she’d been looking for, this kind of chemistry that both frightened her and drew her irrevocably.

And—ohhhh, damn— his skin, the back of his neck, was like velvet, so shocking on such a potently dynamic man. Everything about him should be hard.

Ooooh, lucky her. He was hard in all the right places. His chest, his corded arms, behind his fly. She’d never wanted to explore a man as much as she wanted to spend hours…days…going over every inch of him.

She opened her mouth for him, inviting him to plunder and take her. He tightened his hold on her face and stroked his thumbs along her jaw. When his tongue touched hers, she groaned and he sucked on her bottom lip, making her body vibrate like a tuning fork.

Sirens wailed in the distance, then closer, coming from a couple of directions.

He took a deep, uneven breath and broke the kiss, resting his silky jaw and soft hair against the hollow between her shoulder and neck.

“Harper!”

She jumped and they both turned their heads to find her chauffeur standing at the entrance to the alley. He looked murderous, like he’d been frantically trying to find her in the bar brawl. She felt incredibly guilty that Jeffrey had been in there dodging fists while she was out here locking lips with Caleb and losing her damn mind.

“Go,” Caleb rasped out, “I don’t want you here when the boys in blue arrive.”

Oh God, no. She didn’t want to let go of him. But she had to because he was right. She didn’t want to end up arrested for a bar fight, or—worse yet—caught on film running from a bar fight. The thrill of Caleb’s passion still swirling around in her, she cupped his face and planted a hard, quick kiss on his mouth.

He stepped back, exchanging a very heated look with her, and she could only hope that she’d given him enough of a prelude to make sure they eventually came together in bed. Soon.

“Go. Now, Harper, before I do something crazy.”

She started to walk, her knees weak. Jeffrey cupped her elbow when she reached him and hurried her to the limo. He eased her inside against the butter-soft leather seats. She’d never taken her gaze off Caleb as he watched her walk away.

She closed her eyes when he was no longer visible. How had everything gotten so out of hand? One minute she was playing pool with a bunch of friendly guys and the next she was plastered against Caleb while he practically devoured her.

One thing was certain, she’d never forget how he looked when he was getting her out of that bar. He was so earthy, so primal, so threatening. Excitement coursed through her as she remembered how physically menacing he was in fight mode. He made rough and tumble look so damn sexy.

He made her want to throw caution to the wind…and that made her feel exposed and vulnerable. She’d always stayed safe behind her armor. She’d been reserved for so long. It was easy to understand why she responded so strongly to Caleb. He was different. He wasn’t afraid of her, didn’t cater to her, wasn’t intimidated or diffident. Was that why he also made her feel afraid of her own emotions, her own passions?

With Nate it had been easy to have sex and feel nothing but the pleasure of the act, the feel of a man’s body, the explosion of her own desire. But Caleb wasn’t Nate, and that kiss had broken open something inside her that she needed him, and only him, to fill.

And, then she remembered how he’d blocked that chair and the flash of pain on his face while he clutched his shoulder. Damn, that’s right! He’d said he’d been pulled off medical leave.

And he’d been hurt again. Protecting her. Guilt washed over her in a rush. She’d tried to prove something to him and had ended up causing him to be injured again. He hadn’t even hesitated when he blocked that chair, just as she never hesitated in taking care of the people she cared about.

To him ‘Protect and Serve’ weren’t just words. They were in his blood, his bones.

Damn it. Here she was, just trying to entice him, make him see her in a different light, and she’d done nothing but reinforce his perception of her as a spoiled, naïve rich girl. Instead, she now saw him in a different light.

When she got home, she went straight to her bedroom. When she saw herself in the mirror, she made a heated sound in her throat. Man! She looked ravished, her mouth thoroughly kissed, her hair a complete mess, and the mirror reflected something in her eyes that she’d never seen before.

Doubts assailed her like they never had before. Caleb would be just a good fuck, nothing more. Wouldn’t he? She couldn’t really trust any man, and she didn’t really know him, but it wasn’t about that. It was just about the sex. Wasn’t it?

She couldn’t shake the feeling that it was more, but how was that possible?

Blue danced around her, on edge because her mistress was most definitely on edge. The poodle trotted into the bathroom and came back with the brush from her vanity. Harper closed her eyes to try to gain some measure of composure, taking the brush from the distraught dog. She smoothed her hand over Blue’s kinky fur, giving her a good dose of comfort. Blue grounded her a bit.

She walked into the bathroom and pulled her hair up into a sleek ponytail. Then back in her room she dressed in a black sheath with floral print on both sides, and slipped on a pair of skimpy black sandals. As soon as she finished, she walked back out into the living room and picked up her cell phone. She dialed as she headed down to the garage.

“Tripp, I need a favor.”

“Anything, Harper.”

“I need Detective Shaw’s home address.”

“What do you need that for?”

“I have to drop a list off for him. He wants it right away. It’s very important.”

“Okay, give me a minute.”

As soon as she got the information, she dialed again and started speaking as she beeped open her sleek silver Benz Roadster. She programmed her GPS and started the car, maneuvering quickly out of the parking garage and toward her destination.

#

By the time he’d given a statement to the cops and dragged himself home, he was hurting bad. One whole side of his body was aching, and his shoulder was hammering at him with a dull throb that made driving extremely painful.

He needed a hot shower, and would definitely need to make sure that silly dog was locked in his bedroom first. He literally couldn’t wrestle with Quinn tonight.

With small hitches in his throat as he tried to deal with the waves of pain across his chest and back, he painstakingly pulled his polo over his head with as little movement as possible, unclipped the holster holding his weapon from the small of his back, but hadn’t removed the shield when he heard a knock at the door. Quinn barked and growled.

“Down, boy. Stay.”

Quinn immediately obeyed and Caleb opened the door.

“Hello, I’m Reginald. Looks like you’re expecting me. Chop, chop let’s get you down to your skivvies and we’ll get you worked over.”

Caleb hesitated for only a moment and without invitation the guy breezed into his apartment.

“Ahhh…buddy, I would suggest that you take yourself and your perky attitude the fuck outta here. I’m not what you think I am. I’m a cop.”

“Yes, that was all explained to me.”

“Explained to you?”

“Sure. Now, would you like scented or unscented oil?”

“Oil?” He could only laugh at the absurdity. “Look, I’m not a hookup. I think you have the wrong apartment.”

“No, I’m not. This is the address I was given.”

“Unfuckingbelievable.”

“Where do you want me to set up the table?”