Growl (7 page)

Sure, she'd not lived here long or truly given it her stamp, but darn it, this was her space.
My home.
And someone had dared enter and destroy what little she had.

Someone would pay.

 

CHAPTER 9

It didn't take a keen sense of smell for Gavin to realize something was amiss as they approached Megan's apartment door. The fact that it sat ajar screamed intruder, especially since Gavin knew for a fact that they'd closed it when they left earlier. Hell, he'd watched her lock and test the knob before they set off.

When Megan didn't heed his warning to move aside, he simply inserted himself between her and the doorway, ensuring that should any intruders wait within, they'd have to deal with him first.

Or should he say, he'd deal with them?

Mess with my woman, mess with me.
Apparently, wolves and cavemen had a lot in common.

Stepping into her apartment, Gavin focused on the possibility of the attackers—attackers in the plural because he smelled more than one. His focus didn't mean he missed Megan's gasp of dismay, but he'd focus on that in a moment. The broken detritus of her belongings could be replaced.

She couldn't.

Someone had gone through and left a very potent message, even spray-painted it on the wall.

Plead guilty or else.

“Not very subtle, are they?” he said aloud as he came to the conclusion he and Megan were alone.

“They trashed my place to try and convince me to go to jail for a murder I didn't commit? Are they out of their freaking minds?” Far from being terrified, Megan sounded disbelieving. “What idiot would ever agree to something like that? So what if they destroyed my place? I'm not going to spend my life behind bars.”

“Fear can be a powerful motivator.”

“Fear?” She snorted in clear disdain. “This makes me mad, and even more determined to fight this.”

“That's my girl.” He couldn't help pride in her stance, even as her fighting spirit took him by surprise. Most women he was acquainted with would have taken this opportunity to sob and fling themselves at him, begging he protect them. They would have hinted at sleeping over. He would have refused of course. An active social life didn't mean he invited his bed partners to get too close. He did have secrets, after all, and a need for personal space. But Megan was different.

“I'd better get the bucket and rag out.”

“You don't want to call the police?”

She snorted. “What for? We both know break and enters don't rate high on their list of priorities. Especially for a suspected murderess. If you'll excuse me, I have a mess to clean up.”

As Gavin glanced around the place, he noted it was more than just a mess. She needed a Dumpster, and pretty much everything replaced. She obviously couldn't stay here and surely acted so brave out of pride.

“You can stay with me until we catch the culprit,” he told her. He waited for the smile of gratitude. Maybe a hug. Or a kiss?

“No.”

The unexpected reply threw him for a loop. “Er—what?”

“No. Totally inappropriate and unnecessary.”

“You can't stay here. Not only is this place unfit, but how do you know the culprits won't come back?”

She pursed her lips. “Good point. I'll find a motel.”

“I thought you were broke.”

Her nose wrinkled, and she made a noise. “Ugh. Dammit. I keep forgetting about that. I guess staying here is the only option. I doubt they'll come back tonight, and if they do, good luck getting in. I'll wedge a chair under the door.” She walked away from him, stripping off her coat and draping it on the leg of an overturned armchair. She headed to the bedroom, still speaking. “It won't be that bad. I'll just vacuum up the glass and stuff so I don't cut myself and—”

The stream of curses she let out would have made even the most obscene comedian blush. How could such a pretty, demure woman know the most painful way of brutalizing a body part? Even more shocking, how could she utter it with complete conviction that she could accomplish the physically impossible feat? The flip from sweet victim to violent vixen rendered Gavin speechless.

Needing to know what had set her off, he entered her bedroom, only to stop as the scent of urine hit him.

“They peed on my bed!” She stood at the foot of it, hands on her hips, and glared.

Despite the nasty environ, her evident anger, and her dirty, dirty mouth, he'd never seen anything sexier. Grabbing her by the hand, he yanked her back out into the main area.

“What do you think you're doing?”

“Getting you out of here.”

Digging in her heels, she halted her movement. “I am not going with you to your apartment.”

“Fine. But you're going somewhere. I know of a hotel downtown we can go to with decent security and tight lips. Before you argue about the price, let me state that I consider this part of the cost of taking you on as a client. If you get killed because I was lax in your protection, then it looks bad on me.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No. And let it be known, right now, that I will carry you out of here kicking and screaming, caveman-style if needed. So swallow your pride and stubbornness. We're going.”

“Fine,” she grumbled. “I'll go to a hotel.”

Hallelujah, he'd gotten her to agree. It probably wasn't a good time to mention he'd be staying with her and that he planned to get a room with only one bed.

For her protection and to save on costs of course. Already he prepared his argument, because no way would she allow it without a fight.

He rather looked forward to it.

 

CHAPTER 10

Megan fumed all the way to the hotel.

I can't believe they invaded my space like that.

Did they really think the loss of some stuff would make her plead guilty?

Like hell.

But she did find it worrisome that someone would go to such destructive lengths to try to pin a murder on her. Who hated her enough to want her in jail? Or was it she was just that the most convenient scapegoat?

Of other concern was the ardent interest of her lawyer. When he'd issued his invitation to have her stay with him, her first impulse was to say yes, especially since she got the feeling he didn't mean in the guest room. Then sanity kicked in, and she found herself refusing.

Getting involved with the man who was supposed to convince a jury and judge of her innocence wasn't in her best interest. Neither was accepting any favors from him. But what choice did she have?

She couldn't very well pull money out of a secret offshore bank account so she could hire some other swanky lawyer. Poor little secretaries didn't have that kind of luxury.

I am well and truly stuck.
Stuck with a man who engaged her senses. A man who had her erotic imagination working overtime as she kept wondering when he'd kiss her again—because he would. She couldn't keep holding her breath and trying to suppress a shiver whenever he inadvertently—or purposely—touched her. She didn't even fool herself into wondering if it would happen. It was just a matter of when he'd make his next seductive move.

Lucky for her, she didn't have to wait long.

After handing the keys to the valet at the front entrance to the elegant downtown hotel, Gavin proceeded to book her into a lavish room that probably cost more for one night than the rent for her current apartment. Key card in hand, he insisted on accompanying her up to the ninth floor, going so far as to entering the space first on the guise of checking it out.

Once in there, he wouldn't leave.

Kicking off his black leather loafers, loosening his tie, he flopped onto the left side of the king-sized bed and laced his hands behind his head.

“Comfy,” he observed.

“I'm sure it is. Shouldn't you be getting home?” she asked as she removed her own shoes by the door. She hung her coat neatly in the closet. Considering the clothes on her back were the only things she currently owned, she'd better take care of them.

“Yeah, about me leaving, it occurred to me that I should stay.”

“Stay? For what reason? No one knows I'm here.”

“I do. My credit card does. The clerk saw you. Hell, for all we know, someone followed us.”

Doubtful. Megan had kept watch in the side mirror. “I'll lock the door.”

“What if they kick it in?”

“And how will you being here stop anyone that determined?”

How a man, dressed in a suit, and a yuppie lawyer to boot, could smile and manage to look so predatory, so dangerous, Megan couldn't have said. But he managed it. And damn, but he wore it well. The shiver that went through her had nothing to do with fear. Desire on the other hand?

He made it hard to resist his charm. Especially when he patted the mattress beside him and said, “Care to join me?”

“Do you treat all your female clients like this? Giving them the personal
touch
?”

“Never. In that you are special, little rabbit. With you, I am finding myself in uncharted woods, a hunter snared by the sensual allure of a nymph.”

“Nymph?” She couldn't help but giggle at the comparison. “Hardly that. A nymph implies some supersexy buxom woman with hip-length locks and a phone-sex giggle. While I might have the cleavage, the rest of me hardly fits the bill.”

“I disagree.” One moment he lounged on the bed, and the next he loomed before her, once again displaying an uncanny speed for a man his size. A finger tilted her chin and forced her to meet his mesmerizing gaze. “I am extremely attracted to you. As you are attracted to me. I want to explore every inch of your curves. Taste the softness of your skin.”

She couldn't help but swallow at the husky purr of his words. “What happened to keeping things professional?”

“You're the one who keeps insisting. I, on the other hand, have made my intentions clear. I want you, Megan, and I don't think … actually, I know I can't wait a moment longer.”

She might have protested, but his lips claimed hers in a sizzling kiss that wiped away all the reasons why they shouldn't touch.

On the contrary, his lips just reinforced her own belief that they needed to embrace. She needed the molten feel of his lips on hers. Wanted the moist tongue that danced and twined around hers with a sensual decadence that drew a groan.

Somehow they went from standing to lying upon the bed, hands roaming and tugging at impeding garments. How dare the fabric get in the way of their skin touching?

Ripping. Tearing. Buttons pinging.

They weren't gentle in their haste. The need within her pulsed. It hungered. She'd never before been so caught up in her desire for a man.

As clothes went flying, their flesh met in a sizzling clash of skin. Yet, despite their frenzy, their lips remained locked and their hands never paused in their stroking.

On her back, on the plush sateen comforter, she watched him through partially lidded eyes as he reared back, revealing a perfect chest with rippling, mouthwatering muscles. He visually devoured her.

“As perfect as I expected,” he said in a husky tone as he reached out to flick an erect nub.

She sucked in a breath, then gave in to temptation and touched his inviting skin, dragging her nails, applying a little bit of pressure, as she scratched him from his pecs to the waistband of his unbuttoned slacks.

He sucked in a breath, and she smiled. So much for him being in control. She'd finally found a way to throw him off balance.

Only problem? She teetered as well.

Under his scorching gaze, her nipples puckered and her breathing stuttered, especially as he slowly lowered his face until his lips hovered over her erect nipple.

Megan couldn't help but arch in invitation, willing him to suck the tip. He couldn't resist. The hot flick of his tongue forced a moan from her, then another as he circled the tip wetly. She grasped his hair and tugged, attempting to force him to take the engorged nipple deeper. In this he didn't let her dictate.

“Such impatience.”

“I know what I want,” she replied.

“So do I, and I'll give it to you, when I'm good and ready.” A sensual threat that sent shivers rocketing through her.

In a show of strength—which melted instead of angered—he clasped her hands and held them above her head. This served to expose her to his touch. Exposed her to the hot mouth that couldn't stop torturing.

How her body hummed. How she strained, her quivering sex begging for release. While he'd removed her bottoms during their stripping tussle, he still wore his pants, unbuttoned but still a barrier. It didn't prevent him from grinding his evident erection against her. Determined to not let him take that source of enjoyment away, she locked her legs around his waist, cinching him tight.

“You're going to have to let go if you want more,” he murmured against the soft roundness of her belly as his lips finally moved to new territory.

Only that erotic promise could get her to loosen her grip. Standing, he didn't take long, stripping his pants and tossing them to the side to land—who cared?

She stared at him, at the thick shaft that jutted proudly from his body. As she stared, she couldn't help but lick her lips as a drop pearled on the tip.

She reached for him, but he growled, “Don't move.”

More orders? Ha. She tucked her hands behind her head, spread her legs, and drew her knees up. She exposed her moist core to him and saw the shudder that trembled through him.

“You're making this hard.”

“Then come here so I can make it soft.” A bad joke, but he didn't seem to care. He dropped to his knees on the bed, right between her spread thighs. One hand guiding him, he rubbed the tip of his cock against her wetness.

She sucked in a breath and grabbed at the headboard. He did it again, and her hips arched off the bed.