Deadly Sins (17 page)

“Medical leave?” He turned to the room, then back to her. “Don’t fucking play with me. Trust me, I won’t tolerate it.”

“Let’s say I’m here because of a hobby then.” The curve of her lips was strained, tight. “And I’m paranoid.”

He shook his head slowly. “No, this is no hobby. You’re here because of me. To prove I killed those girls. To prove I killed Amy.”

“Wrong.” The anger wasn’t just a glimmer in her eyes anymore. It was burning bright and strong between one heartbeat and the next.

It flushed her face, made those damn dark eyes of hers spark.

“Don’t you fucking lie to me!” he yelled at her.

He was the laidback cousin.

He was the one who never became pissed off to the point that he raised his voice.

But this was Skye. And she was lying to him.

He wouldn’t have it from her.

Not now.

Not after the deliberate challenge she had thrown out to a killer.

Not after deceiving him with the clear intent of, one way or the other, putting more blood on his hands.

“I never believed you were guilty of anything but being a prick and an asshole when the mood suited you,” she snapped back.

Moving to her, his gaze holding hers, the challenge gleaming in them only intensifying, he backed her into the bare wall next to the hidden room. He placed both hands on either side of her head, and leaned in close, until he was nearly nose to nose with her.

“You’re here because of Amy,” he bit out, his body so tight he wondered if, for the first time in his life, he was going to snap. “You’re here to find her killer. You thought
I
was her killer.”

She, like everyone else, believed he had killed Amy Jefferson and the other girls who had died that summer.

“Wrong.” Straight, pretty teeth snapped together furiously. “Yes, I’m here to find a killer. But I never, for even a second, believed you were that killer. I didn’t believe it any more than Amy did.”

Tearing himself away from her, he turned, and cracked his fist into the wall.

Son of a bitch. At this rate, he was going to end up breaking his hand. However, a broken hand would be preferable to what he was feeling now.

Emotions that made no sense.

Feelings that were tearing through him, tightening his stomach and ripping through his guts with enough force to lay his soul bare.

Fists clenched, he turned back to her slowly and just stared at her.

Wariness filled her gaze, but there was no fear.

She had no reason to fear him. She had no reason to be wary of him either.

He wondered if she knew he would give his life for her? That he would die to ensure she never suffered so much as a day in her life?

Because he loved her.

He stiffened. That knowledge was like a spike of agony tearing through his guts.

It ripped through his system and jerked aside the veil of deception he’d been practicing on himself as well as her.

“She said once that you were going to be her best friend,” Skye whispered now, and Logan hated the words falling from her lips. “The night before she disappeared, she was crying, Logan, because she was certain whoever was trying to frame you was going to succeed.”

“Shut it up!” His hand sliced through the air. “Pack your shit. You voided your rental agreement and you’re being evicted. I won’t have you here.” His voice rose again, though not as loud this time. “Do you fucking hear me, Skye? Listen to me well or I’ll have you tied, gagged, and locked in a room so fucking secure I never have to worry about so much as a motherfucking scratch marring your flesh, let alone a rapist’s knife tearing into your goddamned flesh.”

Rage, powered by a fear for her life that nearly weakened his knees, and for one, impossible moment, stole all hope of control.

Before he knew it, he had crossed to her again.

Logan’s hands moved, his fingers wrapping around her upper arms, tightening just enough to ensure she didn’t escape, before pulling her to him.

The hunger was impossible to deny.

He’d want her on his deathbed. He’d ache for her, crave her touch, and crave touching her no matter where they were or what was going on between them.

He would ache for her, hunger for her, he would die for her no matter the lies she told, or what she might or might not suspect him of.

“Don’t lie to me, Skye,” he snarled.

He wouldn’t have it from her. Not now. Not after the deliberate challenge she had also thrown out to a killer.

“I never believed you were guilty of anything but being a prick and an asshole when the mood suited you,” she snapped back.

As he moved slowly to her, his gaze held hers, the challenge gleaming in it only intensifying as he backed her into the bare wall next to the hidden room and placed both hands on each side of her head, flat against the drywall, and leaned in close, nearly nose to nose with her.

“You’re here because of Amy,” he bit out. “You’re here to find her killer.”

Him. Skye, like everyone else, believed he had killed Amy Jefferson and the other girls who had died that summer.

“Yes.” Straight, pretty teeth snapped together furiously as he and Skye leaned closer, now, definitely nose to nose. “I’m here to definitely find her killer. But I never, for even a second, believed you were that killer. I didn’t believe it any more than Amy did.”

Logan’s hands moved, his fingers wrapping around her upper arms, tightening just enough to ensure she didn’t escape, before jerking her to him.

*   *   *

As her body came flush against his, the hardened length of his cock pressing into her lower stomach, a startled cry fell from her lips and heat washed through her.

A shudder tore up her spine.

Her pussy clenched, her juices spilling in a wave of pure, erotic sensation.

God, she loved it when he went all dominant and fiercely male on her. She’d sensed the need inside him to loosen the reins on his sexuality, but she hadn’t expected the effect on her.

His hands were just that extra bit firmer, his lips plundering. His tongue thrust and surged past her lips to conquer her kiss as her body began to sensitize.

Pleasure whipped through her body, need firing inside her with a suddenness that left her gasping.

Skye had intended to fight if he dared to touch her.

She had meant to deny him if he even thought to have the nerve to suggest he touch her.

He’d been an ass from day one when all she’d wanted to do was get to know the man her foster sister had thought so much of, while trying to find a killer.

Skye was trained in a hundred ways in how to get out of a man’s arms.

A kidnapper’s grip.

A killer’s hold.

But she had never been trained to break free of the hold of the owner of her heart.

She should have used that training to kick his ass.

If possible.

Instead she moaned as his lips covered hers forcefully, taking them, mastering her, and overwhelming any objections she might have had. Any objections she might have had flew out the window the second he touched her, though. Just as they always had.

It was like being caught in a whirlwind. Jerked into a realm where sensations were living, breathing, and possessing her with a strength she had no hope of fighting.

It was a pleasure she had no desire to fight. All she wanted to do was sink into it, enjoy every second of it, because for the first time in her life there was something worth fighting for, for herself.

He did this to her.

Pleasure like this wasn’t usual, she thought hazily as her hands smoothed over his broad shoulders. Finding pleasure like this was a once-in-a-lifetime event.

It was something neither of them would ever have again with anyone else.

Something that would tear their souls apart if they decided to walk away from it.

Pulling back to nip at her lips, Logan ran his tongue over the little sting before sipping at her lips again. Deep, drugging kisses that had her moaning into them and desperate to get closer to him.

Logan’s hands moved over her back and hips, stroking, first through the light cotton blouse she wore, then beneath it. A second later the feel of her top being pulled up her body had her lifting her arms languorously and opening her eyes as he pulled back and slowly, so slowly, lifted her blouse over her head.

Her hands gripped his shirt and with a quick, hard yank, she sent buttons scattering as she stared back at him in challenge.

Logan’s gaze narrowed, and if she didn’t know better, he had just accepted that challenge.

“Be careful how you tempt me, Skye.” Guttural, the hunger in his voice matched the lust gleaming in his gaze as he stared back at her. “Be real fucking careful how far you tempt me right now.”

With his fingertips only he stroked up her right arm, causing her flesh to tingle as the rasp of the calloused tip sent pleasure skating over it. Moving his fingers upward, his gaze locked with hers, he hooked his finger in the strap of her lacy demi-bra and slid it over her shoulder seductively.

“Evidently, I wasn’t as deceptive as I thought I’d be, because you were checking my home. And perhaps I’m not tempting you enough because you’re standing here talking to me, Logan, instead of fucking me.” She breathed out, her voice shaky and breathless as she ran her palms from the warm, curl-sprinkled hardness of his chest to the waist of his jeans.

There couldn’t be so much as an ounce of fat on his lean abdomen. It was all muscle, hard and warm, rippling in response to her touch as she moved to his belt.

She wanted him naked.

As his lips lowered to her shoulder, his teeth raking against the rounded curve and bringing a gasp of response to her lips, she found herself jerking at the leather. She wanted the heavy length of his cock released and taking her before he could change his mind again and pull away.

As she moved her hands to the metal buttons of his jeans—not a zipper, heaven forbid that it should be made easy for her—her fingers fumbled.

The denim stretched over the straining length of his cock, making the buttons harder to undo.

And Logan wasn’t helping, she thought hazily. He was too busy slowly releasing the front catch of her bra and slipping the straps over each shoulder.

Excitement and anticipation surged through her. Arching against him in reaction, she found her hands moving, her nails scouring against his abdomen in retaliation before returning to the next metal button.

She wanted him. The need was building inside her to the point that she wondered if she would survive it if he did manage to take her.

As his teeth nipped the curve of her shoulder lightly, Skye lifted herself closer to him.

His lips moved from her shoulder to the curve of her neck, where he took hard, suckling kisses of her flesh.

He was marking her.

She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Logan Callahan would have never marked a woman before.

As she tilted her head to the side to give him better access, her lips and tongue licked over the hard flesh above a flat male nipple with hungry intent. Kissing, nipping at his skin, and tasting as much as possible, she was aware of nothing but Logan’s lips at her neck and the pleasure burning through her, electrifying her.

A shattered cry tore from her lips as one hard male hand cupped her breast while the other moved to her hip. Tightening there, she felt the harsh, heavy movements of his chest and heard a rumbled groan as his lips moved lower.

He would have never marked her if he wasn’t serious about a hell of a lot more than a one-night stand.

“Please,” she whispered. “Please, Logan.”

She needed more, so much more.

“Please what?” Fierce and commanding, his voice echoed with the same hunger. “Tell me what you want, Skye.”

He wanted the words. She’d never had a lover ask for the words. Hell, she’d never considered begging for anything either.

“My breasts,” she whispered. “My nipples. Logan, my nipples ache. Please suck them. Suck them hard like before.”

The need to feel his lips surrounding them again was making her crazy.

A hungry groan passed his lips as he bent farther to her, his lips moving over the curve of her left breast, his tongue stroking until both lips reached the nerve-laden, pebble-hard tip of her breast.

His tongue stroking over the tight peak had her fingers working harder, tearing at the denim until the last button slipped free.

Strangled, rough with the sensations that filled her senses, overwhelming her and bordering on pain, she fought to smother a cry only to have it escape despite her attempts.

All but writhing in pleasure, unable to function past the needs tearing through them both, Skye slid her hand beneath the opened denim of his jeans. As she did, Logan pulled her nipple into his mouth, sucking it deeply, hungrily, as his palm cupped it, lifting the hardened peak closer as he sucked it deeper. Each draw of his mouth had her clitoris pulsing with agonizing pleasure as the muscles of her pussy clenched in desperation.

Release was only seconds away, only a few more draws of his mouth from ripping through her, blinding and intense. She was poised on a razor’s edge of orgasm. Sharp and fiery, each pulse of sensation clenched every muscle of her body and had her straining to race into the abyss.

Finally managing to part the fabric of his jeans, her fingers slid inside, immediately stroking over the thick, straining length of his cock. The parted fabric allowed the broad length to slip free of the material, pulsing and too thick for her to wrap her fingers around it, so hard and heavy she wanted nothing more than to have it impaling her.

Stroking over it, her fingers pumped it once, twice, before she stroked it again and allowed her thumb to rake over the thick, mushroomed crest as pre-come slickened it. The silky essence was warm against the pad of her thumb, the hot flesh below it clenching tight with the caress.

Tipping her head back, she felt the brush of her hair against her bare back as Logan quickly unfastened her jeans, his hands sliding in, cupping her ass and lifting her closer, trapping her hand between their bodies.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t stroke the fiery flesh or caress it as she wanted.