LustUndone Page 4

And that scared him more than anything else.

  Gritting his teeth, he picked up the bar rag and began polishing the spot that already shone from his efforts. When Diane passed new drink orders to him he was glad for the distraction.

  “That’s some impression you made.” Rebecca’s voice was pitched low and filled with amusement.

  “I think it’s just part of his bartender charm,” Sophia protested.

  Bec laughed aloud. “Trust me. Charm is the last word anyone would use to describe Clint Beaudine.”

  “I thought maybe you’d forgotten all about me,” Logan grinned, standing up so Sophia could slide back into the booth.

  “Not a chance.”

  “Don’t jab me with your elbow but that bartender looked as if he wanted to drag you away to his cave.”

  Sophia felt her face heat. Had it been that obvious to anyone but her? “I think you’re reading too much into a civil conversation.”

  He laughed out loud. “I’m a man, remember? I know the signs. Anyway, are we going to eat? My stomach’s crawling up my backbone.”

  The waitress had delivered her drinks and now stood expectantly by their booth, her eyes frankly studying Sophia.

  Rebecca grabbed everyone’s menu. “We’ll all have the hot roast beef on a French roll and fries.” She grinned at the others. “Specialty of the house.”

  Surprisingly, the food was just as delicious as Clint had promised. They ate in ravenous silence, enjoying the juicy beef and the crisp fries. When Diane came to clear away their plates she set a fresh round of drinks in front of them.

  “Compliments of the charmer behind the bar.” She studied Sophia again. “You must have something going for you because he never says two words to anyone else.”

  “I know his uncle,” Sophia explained.

  Diane snorted. “Yeah, right. Anyway, he asked if you’d stop at the bar for a minute before you leave.”

  Me?” Sophia was stunned. “What for?”

  The waitress gave her a sarcastic smirk. “I can think of at least ten things.”

  “No. Please. Tell him I’m leaving with my sister and my coworker.”

  “Not me, honey. I never deliver unwanted news.” She sashayed away.

  Sophia looked at her sister. “He’s your friend. You got me into this, now get me out of it.”

  But Rebecca’s mouth was fighting a grin. “Actually I think you could use a little diversion. You look as if you’re wound tighter than a coiled spring.”

  “Please. We’re digging into another of the devil beast’s killings. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Logan?” She turned to her partner.

  He held up his hands. “The man bought us a drink. The least you can do is thank him. And from what I saw it wasn’t Rebecca or me that inspired his hospitality.”

  And it would have been hard not to take a minute to say goodbye when they left with both Rebecca and Logan practically shoving her toward the bar. Clint looked up as she approached.

  “Lot of enthusiasm there, chere.” Again the hot, smoky voice rolled over her and made her body throb.

  Stop this! There’s no time for hanky-panky. Besides, you just met the man.

  “Thank you for the drink.” She made her tone as formal as possible. “That was very kind of you.”

  “You staying at the Skye?”

  She blinked. “What? Why?”

  “It’s a weeknight. I close at midnight. See you then.”

  “What?” she asked again. “Wait, I—”

  But he had already moved toward the end of the bar where a customer tapped an empty glass on the polished wood.

  “Come on.”

  Logan had stepped up and tugged on her arm. “I don’t know about you but I’m about ready to pass out.”

  I’ll keep my door locked. He’ll have to make a racket to get in and the motel will make him leave.

  Yeah, right.

  “See you in the morning.” Rebecca hugged her in the parking lot. “You can get back to that internal conversation I watched you having. Oh, and try to get at least a little sleep.” She winked.

  “I’m going to get plenty of sleep,” she told her sister. “You’ll see.”

  Sophia grumpily buckled herself into the SUV and left Rebecca laughing beside her car. If Clint Beaudine had the nerve to show up at her motel room she’d send him on his way in a big hurry. She had work to do and needed a clear head.

  Of course, it had been longer than she could remember since she’d tangled the sheets with any man, and even longer—if ever—since a man had turned her on so fast and so hard.

  Well, damn. Now what did she do?

  Chapter Three

  “What’s the word?” Dante Martello dropped into the chair next to the comm center where Ric Garza had just completed a call with Sophia and Logan.

  “Same old, same old.” Ric rubbed the late-day stubble on his jaw. “Craig got us into the investigation but no one’s really buying our theory. Crazy idea. Yada yada yada. You know. The usual shit.”

  “We’re all wigged-out freaks, right?”

  “You got it.”

  Ric picked up the coffee mug from the keyboard tray and took a sip of the now-tepid liquid. He’d been monitoring the system all evening, waiting for the call from Maine and searching for any other reported deaths. The team was still trying to determine if they were tracking one fast son of a bitch devil beast or if, as they’d hesitantly begun to wonder, someone was breeding the damn things.

  “I’d think,” Dante said, “that if any of the state detectives had seen the bodies from the last spate of killings up there they’d be a lot more open-minded about what they were looking for.”

  Rich shrugged. “I think people are frightened about things beyond their comfort zone. Things they don’t feel they have any control over. Their first reaction is to deny its existence.”

  The other man laughed. “I might have said the same thing about shapeshifters until I became a part of the Night Seekers.”

  Ric looked at him with curiosity. “You never have said what happened when Craig first contacted you. How you reacted to the whole thing.”

  Dante leaned back in the chair and stretched out his legs, his face somber. “I was a fucking mess, I’ll tell you that. I hadn’t been sober since I’d found my wife’s body and I was on an extended leave from Chicago PD with orders to get my act together.”

  “I have to say, I know how you were feeling.” Ric had been the one to find his mother’s body destroyed by the Chupacabra. “So I guess he dropped in on you like he did with the rest of us.”

  “Yeah, but with one difference. I’m not a shifter. First he had to convince me I wasn’t in somebody’s weird movie gone bad.”

  “But you seem okay with it.”

  Dante laughed. “I gotta tell you, shifters are actually a lot less strange than half the people I busted in Chicago. I’ll take you guys anytime. Anyway, back to the call from Maine.”

  “Not much else to tell.” Ric shuffled through his notes. “Sophia’s sister Rebecca, also with the state police like Sophia was, is working with them and they’re getting whatever help they can from the others. Logan said he just hopes they’ll get folks to see the light before the next killing.”

  “That means they’ll have to start watching at night, and from what I understand it’s vast and dark out there.”

  “Uh-huh.” Ric nodded. “They’ll do their best to warn people, then figure out how to cover the most likely targets.”

  “Well, let me know if they need more of the team up there.” He grinned. “I’ve never been to Maine.”

  * * * * *

  The parking lot at the Skye Motel was nearly filled when Sophia and Logan pulled in, a testament to the many tourists in the area for skiing and other winter sports so readily available. The place was a fairly recent addition to northern Maine hospitality. She still remembered its grand opening only a few years earlier, on a very cold day in winter. Almost at once skiers and snowmobilers
had begun filling it, followed in the spring and summer by fishermen and hunters and just plain vacationers.

  Ric had reserved an efficiency unit there for each of them—“More space and better to make yourselves comfortable,” he’d said. It would definitely do for however long they were there. Sophia appreciated its hominess and amenities as she closed and locked the door. She was definitely ready to put aside the tension of the day.

  They’d made a quick grocery run to stock some basic provisions for themselves. Now Sophia took the time to unpack her suitcase and put away the groceries. She convinced herself the reason she took such a long shower with scented gel was to get rid of the grime and grit collected on her body throughout the day.

  Yeah right. That’s why I’m spraying on cologne, too, right?

  He’s not coming and if he does I’m not letting him in.

  Oh, another big fat lie.

  She brushed her hair vigorously, angry with herself for even entertaining stray thoughts and deliberately pulled on her old extra-large University of Maine t-shirt, one that hung down to her knees. Not glamorous but worn and soft for sleeping, besides, who the hell did she have to impress? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had any kind of relationship.

  Before the twins were killed.

  Sighing, she turned out the light, crawled between the covers, closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep.

  Ten minutes later, despite the strain and fatigue of the day, she was more wide awake than ever. And staring at the lighted numerals on the bedside clock.

  Ten thirty.

  This is ridiculous. I will not think about that man.

  I don’t do this. I don’t do this. I don’t do this.

  Maybe if she repeated it to herself enough times she might actually believe it.

  She flopped onto her side, punched the pillow and slammed her eyes shut.

  But instead of sleep she was visited by a dream starring the cocky Clint Beaudine. He wore only jeans that clung to his lean hips, his flat, muscled chest above the waist heavily dusted with hair as richly dark as that on his head. His eyes smoldered and heat shimmered around him. He walked toward her lazily, confidently.

  “I’m going to fuck you, chere.” That voice reached way down deep inside her.

  “No!”

  Sophia shouted it so loud she startled herself into full wakefulness. She only hoped the walls were thick enough so Logan hadn’t heard her. Waiting to see if the phone rang or a knock sounded on the door, she finally eased back down onto the pillows.

  Well, that didn’t work out too well.

  No matter what she did, her body wouldn’t relax nor would her mind. When the light tap sounded at her door at twenty after twelve she was through arguing with herself, through finding excuses.

  Trembling slightly with anticipation she undid the deadbolt and security lock and pulled the door open. Clint Beaudine was leaning into the frame looking like the world’s original bad boy. He was just as she’d seen him in her mind earlier, except that he was wearing a t-shirt and a sheepskin-lined jacket. His eyes were just as smoldering, his face just as strong-featured and one lock of his thick hair fell over his forehead. His mouth curved in a hungry smile.

  “You gonna let me in, chere? I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

  As if it was the most natural thing in the world she opened the door wide and stepped aside to let him cross the threshold. He bolted the door, only half turning to do it so he could keep his gaze locked with hers. Sophia backed up two steps, three, and bumped into one of the chairs at the round dinette table. Clint discarded his jacket, still advancing toward her. Then, before she could get a word out, he had his arms around her, his mouth hot and hungry on hers.

  His tongue was like a flame in her mouth, scorching her everyplace it touched, sweeping, gliding, tasting. Her head swam and her bones turned to liquid as he drank and drank and drank from her. His body against her was just as hard as it looked, all steel muscle. And hardest of all was the thick ridge of his cock pressing against her through the worn denim of his jeans, like a brand burning through the layers of cloth.

  Her fingers threaded through the heavy silk of his hair, holding his head to hers. She forgot to breathe, forgot anything except this man and the fusion of their mouths. When he finally lifted his mouth a fraction she could see the amber in his eyes gleaming like tiny dancing flames. His licked the outline of her lips then trailed kisses along the line of her jaw and down the column of her neck.

  “I’m going to fuck you, chere.”

  It wasn’t the lust in his voice that shocked as much as his use of the exact words she’d heard in her almost-dream. Desire skated along her spine and burst into the throbbing walls of her pussy. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could remain upright even within the iron circle of his arms.

  Finally he loosened his grip and took a step back.

  “We have too many clothes on.”

  He turned her around, sat her on the edge of the bed and pressed the switch on the bedside lamp. With the amber glow smoothing over his body he stripped efficiently out of his jeans and t-shirt. No underwear. She should have known he’d go commando. His body as just as magnificent as in her dream only now she could see it all—the sculpted muscles, the same dusting of dark hair on his legs, the lean hips and broad shoulders. And his cock, so utterly magnificent, rising from a very thick nest of curls, the head dark and flared, his sac lying heavy against his thighs.

  “Like what you see, chere?” There was no mistaking the slight arrogance in his voice. Clint Beaudine knew what he had to offer a woman. No doubt about it.

  Sophia had never in her life desired a man so much, felt such powerful chemistry with another human being. Without thinking she stretched out her arm to reach for his erection. He stepped closer to her and her hand closed around the wide shaft, the skin like soft velvet over the core of steel. Hard didn’t begin to describe its condition.

  She rubbed her thumb over the head, spreading the small bead of liquid seeping from the slit. Then stroked up and down, just once, before his fingers clamped around her wrist.

  “Later. Right now I have to be inside you.” He bent lower to her. “But trust me, we’ll have time for whatever we want.”

  Then he was gently pushing her back onto the pillows, arranging her so her legs were spread wide. Two fingers probed her cunt and he smiled at the wet heat he found there. His head dipped and he captured one hard nipple as he knelt between her thighs. Fire jolted through her breast and sizzled through her body at the warmth and pull of his mouth. She arched herself up to him, widening her legs even more.

  She hadn’t even noticed the condom in his hand until she heard the crinkle of foil and he shifted his body to sheathe himself. Lifting her legs, he draped them over his shoulder, placed the head of his cock at her opening and drove into her with one strong hip-rolling push.

  Oh god!

  He was so thick and so long for a moment she feared she’d split in two, but her body, eager for him, adjusted and accepted him. And demanded more. She locked her ankles behind his neck, lifting her hips to him.

  Bracing himself on his hands, he searched her eyes, asking for answers to silent questions. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from his. As if finding what he was looking for he exhaled a slow breath and began to pump steadily in and out of her. With every thrust he deliciously scraped the walls of her pussy, nerve endings flaming into life. He moved slowly at first, then harder and faster, more and more, building the rush inside them both.

  Sophia felt that thick coil of need wrapped so tightly inside her begin to tighten more and more, a heated snake rising up through her veins and pulsing through her body. She reached for that erotic peak, needing it, her body demanding it. Every muscle was wound tight as the climax shimmered just out of reach.

  “Look at me.” The words were a guttural demand. “Open your eyes, Sophia, and look at me. Now.”

  She did and saw such animal need in his that it pushed he
r over the edge. She was catapulted into black velvet space, spinning and whirling, shuddering, her entire body pulsing with an orgasm that consumed every bit of her. Clint stiffened a second later, a harsh groan rolling from his mouth as his cock throbbed inside the wet clasp of her pussy. There was nothing except this man and this incredible moment of a release that scorched her from the inside out.

  It could have been a minute or an hour, Sophia had no concept of time, before her body finally began to unclench and ease. Her heart pounded furiously and her lungs begged for air. Clint wasn’t in much better shape. He collapsed forward, balancing on his arms, breath seesawing raggedly, pulse beating at the hollow of his throat.

  “Damn.” The word slid from his mouth. “Not even my imagination could have dreamed up something that powerful.”

  Taking another moment to catch his breath, he slid from her body and went to dispose of the condom. Then he was back, sliding into bed beside her.

  “I have to be at a meeting at eight in the morning,” she managed to get out as one large warm hand closed over a breast.

  “Then I’d better make sure you get at least a little sleep.”

  She could hear the grin in his smoky voice before he lowered his head to her nipple again. This time he did more than pass over it. He sucked, pulled, grazed lightly with his teeth, tormented it until it was diamond hard. Then he moved to the other one. And all the while his fingers, danced over the softness of her public curls, stroking her swollen labia, sliding into the wet clasp of her greedy cunt. His mouth, his fingers, were magic, setting fire to every inch of her body. It astounded her that after such a violent release she could be aroused again so easily.

  His movements were slow, unhurried, coaxing every bit of pleasure from her. She heard moans drifting on the air and realized they were coming from her. Clint was busy everywhere with his hands and his mouth, rousing her, then calming her, then driving her up again until she wasn’t even sure she remembered her own name. His thumb was a pendulum stroking over her clit until she could barely stand the sensations rocketing through her body, his mouth hot and greedy everywhere on her skin.