A Wicked Seduction (6 page)

Resignation wove through him, leaving him no choice but to accept the current circumstances, no matter how helpless they made him feel now that he'd figured out the hows and whys of this false arrest.

Back to Plan B: his seduction and her surrender.

“I take it that means the cuffs stay on until then?”

“For the most part, I'm afraid so.” She rubbed her temples, and allowed a tired smile to touch her lips. “I think what I need right now after the long day I've had is a hot shower to clear my head.”

“Good idea, though you might want to take me into the bathroom with you while you take a shower,” he suggested shamelessly. “Because you just never know what kind of trouble I might get into out here all by myself.”

J
O LEFT
D
EAN SITTING
on a chair next to the bed with both hands cuffed to the thick, sturdy headboard post while she ducked into the bathroom, alone and with the door closed, to take her quick shower and change for the evening. He'd feigned a sexy pout when she'd turned down his outrageous request to join her, but had complied without argument when she'd instead secured him to the bed and turned on the TV to a movie channel for him to watch until she returned.

Stepping beneath the pounding spray, she groaned as the water pummeled away the tension in her back and neck and cascaded down the length of her body. Leaving Dean by himself, even for the short period of time she'd be in the shower, was an extension of trust she offered very few of her prisoners. Then again, even from the first moment when she'd surprised him in his garage there had been nothing standard about Dean in terms of criminal behavior or ulterior motives. The man played the role of upstanding citizen very well, his accommodating attitude remaining consistent even in the face of the very dire circumstances awaiting him back in San Francisco. No matter how she sized up Dean Colter, his easygoing
actions didn't fit the profile of a felon who was on his way back to jail to face charges of grand theft auto and the possibility of testifying against a powerful ringleader.

Pouring a large dollop of shampoo into her palm, she soaped up her hair and scrubbed her tight scalp as her mind pondered everything he'd revealed during dinner—about his father's death, the company he'd inherited but had strong reservations about truly wanting, and even the robbery of his briefcase, which held all his identification. And try as she might, she hadn't been able to poke holes in his “assumed identity” theory. The incident sounded so realistic and unrehearsed, like he'd truly lived every bit of the story he'd revealed.

Against her better judgment, she was teetering on the precarious cusp of believing him. His thought process was too damned logical and convincing to dismiss as something he'd fabricated on a moment's notice. Those instincts she'd relied on for so many years as a cop urged her to trust him and his revelation. Unfortunately, she had little faith left in those gut intuitions after they'd led her astray with Brian.

Determined not to make another stupid mistake when she was just starting to prove her credibility to Cole again, she decided that while she'd grant Dean Colter a bit of leniency for good behavior, he'd remain in custody until they arrived at their destination and they could clear his name.

Satisfied with her plan, she rinsed her hair and then grabbed the melon-scented shower gel she'd brought
with her. She quickly soaped up her body, then washed away the suds with the caress of her hands…down her neck, chest and arms. Her fingers grazed the straining, beaded tips of her nipples on their journey downward, and her pulse picked up its beat as her breasts swelled with excruciating sensitivity.

It had been forever since she'd felt so aware of herself as a woman, even longer since she'd been intimate with a man. Her last long-term relationship had been in college, to be exact, before her profession as a cop became a source of contention for the men she'd dated. They either felt intimidated by her job or wanted to protect her, and both issues always rubbed her the wrong way, to the point that she'd stopped letting anyone get too close. Physically or emotionally.

Since Brian's death, she'd suppressed sensual needs in lieu of pouring her time and energy into solving her abduction cases. But now, her body was screaming for attention, reminding her of baser longings that needed to be attended to, a physical hunger that had grown since she'd been in Dean's presence.

Before she could stop herself, she slowly turned back toward the shower spray and cupped her full, aching breasts in her hands, gently squeezing the soft flesh while the heated water added a more arousing massage. Her thumbs lazily circled the velvety tips of her aureoles, and her breath hitched in her throat at the needy, wanton feeling coiling deep inside her—a demand she'd ignored for far too long. The slow, in
sistent throb would take very little to appease, she knew. She bit her bottom lip and wondered…if she took the edge off her desire now, maybe, hopefully, she'd no longer lust and fantasize about a man who was incredibly sexy and gorgeous and totally off-limits to her.

Giving in to the urge to let her imagination be a little wild and uninhibited, she allowed her lashes to flutter closed. And that easily, Dean was inside the steamy shower with her, his big hands replacing hers as they gradually skimmed lower, blazing a heated trail down her quivering stomach. With her eyes shut tight and her mind focused on pure pleasure, the silky cascade of water along her skin turned just as seductive as a lover's warm, seeking mouth…as erotic as the slow, sensual lap of an experienced tongue gliding across her belly, licking along her thighs, and burrowing in between, where long, skillful fingers found and stroked the swollen nub of flesh hidden there.

Falling under her own spell, she braced herself against the shower wall, let her head fall back, and surrendered to the provocative fantasy the man in the other room had evoked. She welcomed the swelling, tingling rush of her orgasm building and cresting within her. Her breathing grew heavy in an effort not to moan, her knees buckled, and she finally let go and lost herself in the torrent of sensation flooding her limbs.

Seconds later, she opened her eyes and refocused on her surroundings—alone again, her phantom lover gone. Her heart pounded erratically in her chest and
steam from her hot shower billowed around her, as feverish as the climax that she now realized had merely been a temporary solution to obscure her more forbidden desires. Her release had lessened the immediate need that had taken up residence in her, but she still felt empty and unfulfilled in other ways…and she was dismayed to realize her yearning for Dean, the flesh-and-blood man, had only grown stronger.

Refusing to dwell on that revelation, she turned off the water, stepped out of the shower and quickly dried off with a towel. She changed into clean panties, then threw on the cotton shorts and T-shirt she wore to sleep in when she was on a bail recovery assignment. After fastening her leather holster once again to her left side and clipping her keys to the buttonhole in the elastic waistband of her shorts, she brushed her teeth, ran a comb through her damp hair, and dumped all her toiletries back into her cosmetic bag.

All in all, her time in the bathroom had taken less than ten minutes. Gathering her personal items, she opened the door and stepped back into the sleeping area as a warm vapor cloud of moisture followed in her wake. She found Dean right where she'd left him, sitting in what had to be an uncomfortable position in the chair with his hands fastened against the headboard. An action-adventure movie featuring Bruce Willis flickered on the TV screen, but his attention was focused solely on her…which started at her bare legs and gradually worked its way upward.

Eventually his gaze touched on her loose hair, free from the restraint of the ponytail she'd worn earlier,
then lingered appreciatively on her freshly scrubbed face, which was flushed, she knew—from his slow perusal, the heated shower she'd taken, and other intimacies she'd indulged in. And just remembering what she'd done with him in her
mind
sent a renewed flash of heat skittering across her skin.

A charming grin slid into place. “You certainly look refreshed.”

If he only knew. Holding tight to her composure, she walked to the dresser and dumped her dirty clothes and toiletry bag into her duffle. “A hot shower was just what I needed.” In more ways than one.

“Did you leave any hot water for me?” he asked.

“Maybe.” She zipped up her bag and turned back to face him. “Depends on what for.”

He tipped his head, causing a dark lock of hair to fall across his forehead, which only added to his roguish appeal. “Don't
I
get any bathroom privileges?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and gave his question serious consideration. The bathroom was small and without any windows or other devices that would provide an escape, so she knew he'd be safe and secure in there. She'd give him time for a shower and other personal matters, if he didn't have any qualms about adhering to her rules.

“I suppose receiving bathroom privileges all depends on how modest you are,” she told him.

“That depends on how modest
you
are,” he countered right back, without an ounce of reserve or bashfulness fringing his deep, rich voice.

Undeniable amusement curled through her as she strolled toward him and stopped a foot away. “I've just about seen it all during my time as a cop, and trust me when I say that modesty has no place on the job.” For all her frankness and direct words, she had a strong feeling seeing Dean buck naked would test her professional indifference, especially since he'd just starred in her own private fantasy.

Tapping into a humorous incident from her patrol days, she shared it with him. “There was one time my partner and I chased a suspect over the walls of a nudist colony, which put me up close and personal with every shape, size, and color of anatomy available to the human race. The experience was quite an eye-opener, so I doubt you have something I haven't already seen before.”

“Ouch.” He feigned an affronted wince, though the mischievous light shining in his eyes gave him away. “You sure know how to deflate a guy's ego.”

Unable to help herself, she laughed lightly. “Let's put it this way. If you don't mind an audience, you're welcome to use the bathroom…with certain restrictions, of course.”

“Of course.” He heaved an inflated sigh. “Lay 'em on me, sweetheart.”

“I'll take off your handcuffs so you can use the bathroom freely, but you'll strip down to your briefs out here—”

“What if I don't wear any?” he interrupted, clearly looking to rattle her with the possibility.

She remained outwardly unruffled and called his
bluff with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulder. “Then you strip down to the buff.”

He grinned devilishly. “Just checking.”

Which didn't answer the question of whether or not he wore any underwear beneath his jeans. She swallowed hard. “I'll get whatever clothes you want to wear and any toiletries you need from your duffle, and you'll have five minutes in the shower.”

“Hey, you took longer than that,” he protested.

The flush on her skin deepened when she recalled how she'd spent those extra minutes. “That's one of the perks of being in charge.” She tossed him a tough-luck kind of look and stood her ground. “Five minutes, take it or leave it, Mr. Colter.”

He shifted in his chair, and the cuffs rattled against the hard wood post. “I'll take it.”

“And you'll leave the door open about a foot at all times,” she went on, laying down more restrictions. He opened his mouth to say something, and she held up a hand to cut him off. “My rules aren't negotiable. I'm willing to give you a bit of freedom, with your
full
cooperation. Again, one false move and—”

“I'll be flat on my ass and trussed up for the duration of the ride home,” he finished for her.

This time,
she
grinned. “Nice to know we're on the same wavelength.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Jo.”

She grew serious, wanting him to know that he was, indeed, getting a bargain when it came to his request to take a shower. “I've given you more fringe
benefits than I usually give any person I've taken into custody.” She turned away before he could question her generosity and the trust she was extending on his behalf. She might have her doubts about him being the man the police sought, but she wasn't about to let
him
know that.

She returned to the dresser. “Now, what would you like from your duffle bag?”

“There's a pair of gray cotton sweatpants in there,” he said from behind her. “I'll sleep in those.”

She opened the canvas bag and retrieved the article of clothing he'd mentioned, then glanced over her shoulder and forced herself to ask, “How about underwear?”

He shook his head, the barest hint of a disarming smile curving his lips. “Too binding to sleep in.”

Too binding to wear during the day, as well? she wondered. She'd find out soon enough. “How about a T-shirt?”

“No, thanks. I'm wearing the sweatpants purely out of courtesy. I don't usually wear anything at all to bed.”

Oh, boy.
Cool sheets rustling against hot, bare skin flitted through her mind, a tempting, erotic vision she quickly banished. “Anything else that you want or need?”

His eyes held hers, and the subdued lighting cast from the lamp between the two beds turned his irises a deep, golden-green hue. “There's a whole lot that I want and need, Jo,” he murmured huskily, “but for now I'll settle for my shaving kit.”

A shiver rippled down her spine and caused her already sensitized breasts to swell with awareness. Inhaling a breath, she pulled out the leather toiletry bag and rummaged through the contents for anything that could be used as a weapon, and found nothing more dangerous than a razor to shave with. “Shampoo, soap and deodorant only,” she said, confiscating the sharped-edged instrument. “Sorry, no razors allowed.”

“Then that's all I need.” He blinked lazily, and added, “For now.”

She put his sweatpants and the few toiletries she'd approved into the bathroom, then returned to release him. Sitting on the edge of the mattress near him, but careful to keep her revolver out of direct reaching distance, she unclipped her set of keys and leaned over to unlock the metal restraints shackling his hands—doing her best to dismiss the hot feel of his skin beneath her fingertips as she worked to unbind him.