Friction (8 page)

She wanted to know that whatever it was he did at night, he was willing to give it up for her. Or she wanted to know what it was.

He was hiding something, obviously. She looked around, glad to see that they were more or less alone, the other couples milling about near the food at the center of the garden. She slid her hand up his thigh, pressing against the erection that was hard to miss. She was obviously having an effect on him and that pleased her.

“Let’s go back to the room. Yours, mine, I don’t care. I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

He groaned into her neck, straining against her, and sighed his resignation. “Yours.” The word emerged as a groan as he found her mouth in a hot kiss, and she responded victoriously. Whatever he’d been doing with his nights, it couldn’t be all that important.

They stood and made their way around the edge of the garden and to the back stairs that led up to the second floor, to her room. Sarah’s heart beat like mad as she pushed the door open, pulling him in behind her quickly and stifling the urge to giggle. She hadn’t brought a man back to her room in at least seven years. She hadn’t had the urge to giggle for longer than that.

The giggle turned into a laugh as she danced backward, feeling turned-on and powerful, giddy with the prospect of the night before them, the fact that he had come back with her, had chosen her over anything else.

He stood still, looming and masculine, watching her in the dimly lit room, seeming out of place in the more femininely decorated space. She crooked her finger.

“I want to help you make a few fantasies come true tonight, Mr. Sullivan.”

She heard his sharply drawn breath as he stepped forward. “Do you now?”

She unbuttoned the blouse she was wearing, sliding it slowly from her shoulders.

“But since we’re on my turf, I’m the boss. You just do as you’re told.” Her tone was playful but demanding—she held her stance as he stood still by the side of the bed.

“What if I don’t agree to those terms?”

She shimmied out of the short skirt, standing before him in a matching black thong and bra. “Then I guess I’ll just have to convince you to see things my way.”

The sounds of the party still going on down in the garden lifted up through the screens, and she shivered as she felt the cool breeze waft through the window. It felt like rain was in the air; an early-summer storm was brewing. Maybe that was responsible for the electricity she was feeling.

“And how are you going to do that?”

She stepped closer. “I have my methods.”

He stood with his hands by his sides and she stopped directly in front of him, just a breath away from touching him.

“You have too many clothes on.” She reached out, sliding her hands underneath the summer-weight sweater he wore, pushing it up and over his head. He didn’t resist, not that she’d expected him to. Leaning forward, she lowered her mouth to drag her tongue over one of his flat, brown nipples. Looking down she saw he’d bunched his hands into fists, but didn’t move otherwise. She drew back and smiled at him, touching the thin, white scar on his shoulder.

“What happened?”

He looked down, as if he’d forgotten the mark was even there. “Got in a fight when I was a teenager. Rough times, short temper. The other kid had a knife.”

She leaned in, licking along the scar, murmuring sweet nothings.

“You taste good.”

“Anything to please.”

“Really? Anything?”

His eyes, seeming almost black in the low light of the room, fixed on hers and he nodded. She stepped back.

“Take the rest off for me.”

He slanted a smile, releasing his belt and unzipping his khakis, removing them in slow, strong, masculine movements. She took a deep breath, signaling to him to continue, and he did, removing his briefs and socks until he stood there naked and completely aroused, waiting for her next command.

“Do you trust me?”

He nodded and looked much more confident than she felt. She’d never done anything like this before, never had this much control, with the responsibility of trust placed firmly on her shoulders. She’d never realized how delicate it was, to hold someone else’s fantasy in your hands, to make it come true. It meant something to her that he was willing to trust her, and she was going to make sure he didn’t regret it.

“Come here.”

He did, and she pulled a padded wooden chair from where it stood by the wall, and indicated to him to sit. He did.

“Put your hands down by the sides.”

He hesitated just for a second, then did as she said, and she left him for a moment, rifling through one of her drawers, and pulled out two pairs of hose. Efficiently, quietly, she bound his hands and ankles to the
chair. When she rose to stand in front of him, she thought she detected a slight apprehension in his gaze, and the unexpected feeling a rush of power and arousal stunned her.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Not entirely.”

“What hurts?”

He looked down at his lap, his erection straining toward her, assuring her he was more aroused than ever, and that it wasn’t the bindings that bothered him.

Reassured, she walked in a circle around him, watching him and smiling wickedly. “So, where should I start? Here?” She fell forward, bracing her hands on each of his shoulders and taking his mouth in a smoldering kiss, leaving him panting and straining harder by the time she drew back, strategically brushing the tip of his cock with her thigh. “Or here?” She let her mouth dip to his chest, kissing him in as many tender spots as she could find leaving little nips along the way until she had the satisfaction of feeling him pull against the bindings.

“Here, maybe?” She settled down on her knees, grazing her fingers over his sac. His head fell back on a loud gasp, his chest heaving with excitement.

“Oh, I know.
Here
….” She moved forward, her own heart slamming in her chest as she did something she’d only done once before, and silently prayed she did it well enough. Spotting the drop of dew at the tip of his penis, she touched it with her tongue, tasting the salty sweetness of him, and found herself compelled to taste
more. She wanted to know all of him. Moving closer, she took him in her mouth, glorying in his strangled groan, the tension of his bound limbs, and suckled gently before sliding the rest of the way down.

“Oh, Sarah…”

She moaned against him, the vibration eliciting another shudder from him before she really lost herself in exploring him this way, the taste and scent of him fueling her desire as she encompassed him over and over, touching him everywhere she could reach and becoming frustrated with the bonds herself, wanting access to all of him.

Standing up, her chest heaving, a slight sheen of perspiration covering her skin, she practically ripped off the thong and bra, approached him like a cat, draped one long leg over the side of the chair and straddled him. As she was kissing him she reached down, positioning him, and enveloped him inside her in one searing thrust. Her hands wove into his hair as she continued to kiss him, holding him captive as she clenched him tightly inside. He broke away, his words ragged against her skin.

“Sarah…ah, I need to touch you…please.”

His gaze landed hungrily on her breasts, and she stared back at him, shaking her head in the negative, denying his request. She cupped her breasts, pinching and rolling her stiffened nipples, arching back, taking him deeper and sighing his name as she moved faster, pleasuring herself and letting him do nothing but watch and feel.

Their sounds filled the room, panted promises and
murmured pleas, the slap of flesh against flesh until neither one could hold out and their cries of release rose up together, merging with the sound of fat raindrops hitting the windows and the laughter of partygoers running inside from the sudden shower.

Sarah continued to rock against him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, burying her face in his neck, catching her breath. After a few moments she slid from his body, silently untying the silk bonds. His hands slipped under her arms, drawing her up and pulling her into his arms to experience the most tender kiss she’d ever known.

I
T DIDN’T HIT
her until deep into the night that she was alone. They’d made love through the storm, falling into an exhausted sleep wrapped around each other. The absence of the heat of his body woke her from a disturbing, restless dream, and Sarah sat up in bed.

“Logan?” She spoke into the empty room, and there was no response. A chill worked its way down her spine as rain still slapped against the windows, sparkling droplets clinging to the glass as she slid from the bed, felt around her closet for a robe and put it on.

He wasn’t in the bathroom; he was gone. A cold feeling settled in where only warmth had been before. She found her slippers and left the room. The door to his room was shut, but she turned the knob a little and it pushed open. Nothing was ever locked around here. Stepping inside, she found only darkness.

“Logan?” Her whisper carried through the empty
room again, with no response. She wrapped her arms around herself, stepped in a little farther and reached for the light on the bed stand. Where could he have gone?

The bed was made; he hadn’t been here. She swallowed a sense of dread; the room suddenly felt empty to her, as if its occupant was long gone. Had he left? Why would he? Looking for a sign of his presence, she opened a drawer, finding socks, pants and underwear, and then spotted several fat manila envelopes under the clothes. And a laptop.

A laptop? Here? She looked closer. It wasn’t anything fancy, but how weird to have it here. Did he know about their policy before he came?

Picking up one of the envelopes, she hesitated. She shouldn’t be doing this, no matter what. Even if what they had wasn’t just a fling—and she was beginning to wonder if that was all it was—it gave her no right to paw around in his personal things.

She leaned down to replace the envelope, gasping when the flap fell open and a sheaf of papers—photographs—fell out.

As she looked down and bent to gather them, her stomach churned. She saw the photos of women scattered on the floor. Pornographic pictures of women in compromising positions, hardcore shots that smacked of a professional job. A small cry escaped her lips.

They were Logan’s. He was involved with pornography? It didn’t seem right, but, as her aching heart reminded her, shame washing over her while she stared at the photographs, it never seemed right. It was always
the guy next door, the one you would have suspected last. The one who’d just made love to you.

So this is what he did at night? What he was hiding from her? He was holed up in his room with a laptop and a porn collection? Was he collecting or just browsing? Buying or distributing? Professional or amateur? She made herself look again—it wasn’t anything she hadn’t seen before—and noticed many of the pictures were of one woman. Was he stalking someone? Was she a favorite?

She clutched the robe around herself, suddenly feeling dirty and shamed. She hadn’t let herself feel like this for a long time, and her mind raged at the return of the familiar sensations of being used, humiliated.

Her heart hardened over the ache. She’d find out, damn him.

“Sarah, what—”

She twisted around and found him standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable as he saw she’d discovered his secret. She stood, too, letting the rest of the papers and photographs fall from her hands to the floor, facing him. What now? She was alone, without any resources whatsoever except her own wits. No one knew except the two of them. She was on her own.

He stepped into the room and closed the door and she took a deep breath, steadying herself. He sounded normal when he finally spoke.

“I’d just gone downstairs to get something to drink. When I came back up, you weren’t in bed. I saw that my light was on.” He shook his head, running a hand
through his beautiful sable hair. “Shit, Sarah, this is really not a good thing.”

She almost laughed, too many emotions coursing through her to name as she fought to keep control of the situation. She would keep control—her life might depend on it. She schooled her features and calmed her voice, staring him down.

“You’ve got that straight, slick.”

T
HEY STARED
each other down for several seconds and he took in the tension in her muscles—she was poised for a fight, not just guilty at being caught going through his things. Did she think he was some kind of pervert? He blinked, realizing that was exactly what she was thinking.

“Listen, Sarah, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not—those aren’t mine.”

She swiped him with a look of disbelief that would have had a lesser man cowering, and he took a heavy breath before speaking again.

“I mean, yes, they are mine, but it’s not what you think. They’re not personal photos, they’re for work. My work. My job.”

That sent her eyebrows up, and had her eyes flaring even more furiously than before. She held her rigid stance. “Yeah, I can tell. It’s obviously professional work. Are you the photographer or the distributor? No—wait.” She stemmed his immediate objection. “There’ll be time to get into that later. But you need to tell me one thing, and if you lie to me, I can promise you, you’re going to regret it big time.”

He took the bait. “What’s that?”

The rest of the color drained from her gorgeous face, though her eyes remained cool as slate. “Did you take pictures of us? Have you taken any hidden shots of me while I didn’t know, because if you did, or if you lie to me about it—”

“Sarah!” His voice bellowed in the small room, cutting her off. Whatever he’d expected to hear her say, it wasn’t
that.
How could she think he was even capable of such a thing?

“There’s no way I would do that. Not to you, not to anyone. I told you, if you will give me a damn second to explain, this is all a part of my work.” He stepped forward, putting his hand up to stop the next biting comment she was ready to spit in his direction.

“I’m a cop.”

They both backed up a pace. He knew he’d spoken, but he could swear she’d said exactly the same words, at exactly the same time.

“You’re a cop?”

Again, in perfect unison that echoed between them, they asked each other the same question. As they started to speak again, Sarah held her hand up this time.

“No, stop. Okay.” She paused for the moment. “You go.”

He nodded. “I’m a cop in Baltimore. A detective. I’m looking into a case, those women in the pictures have come up missing. I’m trying to find out what happened to them.” He held her gaze. “You’re a cop? Did I actually hear that, or am I going crazy?”

It hit him for the first time that maybe his department had taken his defection seriously. Had she been sent to watch him? But then why would she be so surprised and mistakenly assume he was a pornographer? She couldn’t think he had anything to do with Mel’s disappearance, even the thought of that made his blood boil, and he was wrenched from his thoughts by her staccato response.

“Norfolk, Virginia, Computer Crime Unit.”

“Wait. You’re not here to check up on me?”

“Why would I be?”

He didn’t reply right away, unsure now of how much to tell her. This was an unexpected development, to say the least.

“So you had no idea who I was before we met?”

She looked down pointedly at the stack of photos in his hand. “I’m not sure I have any idea who you are right now. But no, and I repeat, why would I?”

He took another step into the room, aware that she was still guarded—an understatement, she was ready and apparently willing to kick his ass, if need be—and crossed to the bed.

“Relax, Sarah. Let me explain.”

Famous last words, her eyes seemed to accuse him, but she reluctantly closed the gap between them, pulling a chair up and sitting by the corner of the bed, a safe distance away. Her suspicion hurt, but he tried to get past that and consider how she must be feeling. It was probably a shock for her, to say the least, to discover that the man she’d taken as a lover had a stash of porn in his dresser
drawer. And if she was who she said she was, it was even worse. She thought he manufactured the garbage.

She threw the stack of photos to the bed, and they slid into an array of images sprawled over the bedspread, ending where he sat. Regarding him with hard eyes, she crossed her arms and legs. He almost smiled. In her robe she looked sexy and tough, making him want to delve into her soft places yet again. But it was clear that wasn’t going to happen, at least not at the moment.

“So, slick, go ahead. Explain.”

“I wish you’d stop calling me that. And you said you were from Brooklyn. How is it that you end up being a cop from Norfolk?”

She just continued to stare at him, so he gave in. “Okay. Me first. See this woman?” He picked up one of the more debasing pictures and showed it to Sarah, trying to sound objective, debriefing her on the case like he would any other cop.

“Her name is Melanie Vincent. Detective Melanie Vincent.” He stopped again, looking at the picture and seeing past the ugliness of it into Mel’s sweet face, her strong face, the mouth that had often smiled at him, and swallowed hard. “She was my partner almost five years. We made detective at about the same time, worked together every day, and a lot of nights.”

Sarah remained silent, but he felt the weight of her gaze upon him. He looked away from the picture, setting it back on the bed, and filled Sarah in on the rest of the story. Mel’s troubles, the suspicions about her questionable behavior, her disappearance, the pictures, and
what he saw as the betrayal of the department that had given up on finding her.

“Sounds like she had some serious problems. She’s alive enough in those pictures—why do you think she did anything but go AWOL and find a new career for herself?

He felt every muscle in his body tighten in rage. “Do you have partners? A person or people you work with closely?”

She nodded.

“Do you know them? Really know them, trust them and feel confident when they’ve got your back?”

“Of course.” She thought of Ian and E.J., who were closer to her than some of her own family.

“So would you be so willing to write them off if something similar happened?”

He had her there, he could see the understanding flicker in her eyes, but only for a second.

“Okay. So you’re working on this solo? Why would they send you in alone?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Leaning forward, she narrowed her gaze, focusing on him like a laser. He thought she must be hell in an interrogation—but she’d said she was a computer cop, did they do interrogations? He’d only known feds in that field.

“Logan, in what capacity, exactly, are you working on this investigation?”

“I’m on my own—not exactly with the support of my department.”

She didn’t react, not overtly, but he saw the flicker in her eyes and she sat back.

“They don’t know you’re working on it?”

He shifted on the edge of the bed, his lips flattening in displeasure at having to explain. But in for a penny…

“This vacation was kind of an informal suspension. They wanted me to get my head together, forget about Mel, and I have one more chance to go back to my job. I was told if I touched the case again, so much as spoke about it, I was fired.”

Sarah blew out a breath, obviously comprehending the spot he was in, and he didn’t know if he should be thankful for that or not. At least she seemed to believe him, but would she turn him in?

“You were lovers? You and Detective Vincent?”

“No.”

He couldn’t tell if she believed him or not from her steady glance, but it was true. He and Melanie had never had anything romantic between them. It was all about the job. And the friendship.

“I want to make sure you’re who you say you are. And from what you’re telling me, I can’t exactly call your department to double-check.”

“I have my shield, but you know anyone can pick one of those things up on online auctions—you’re going to have to either trust me or turn me in.”

He hoped desperately that she opted for the former.

“You’re right. Okay, so how about you tell me about your investigation, what you have so far. Maybe I can help.”

“Uh,” he grunted, not quite sure what to say. Help? He hadn’t expected that. And he wasn’t sure he wanted her involved. This was his personal business. Letting her into this was like letting her into one of the deepest parts of his life, and, well, she was the woman he was sleeping with. He looked at her now, with fresh eyes, and yeah, he could see the cop, but he didn’t want to.

He cared for her. He hadn’t thought about that too deeply, but he knew she was more than a vacation fling.

He liked her, but enough to let her help him with his case? A strange sense of apprehension and protectiveness overcame him as he struggled for a response and found none. She saved him the effort.

“I saw the laptop—do you have records I could look at? How have you been…?” Awareness dawned on her features. “You’re the one that’s been hacking the inn’s connection!”

“How’d you know that?”

She slanted a smug grin in his direction. “I shut you down, babe. It was smart of you to hook in at night when you thought it would go unnoticed, but you didn’t count on the fact that Harry works on his books at night. He noticed his connection had slowed down, and had me look at it. I closed you out.”

He put two and two together quickly, realizing she had been the source of his frustration that night. Now it was his turn to ask some questions.

“How long have you been on the force? What exactly is it you do? Were you a fed?”

She put her hands up to stem the flow. “Hey, whoa.
You’re the one going rogue here, so stop with the third degree. I really am just here on vacation.”

“You want in on my investigation, you answer some questions.” He could be stubborn, too, and he wasn’t just going to let her have the upper hand that easily.

“You’re pretty cocky for a guy one phone call away from being fired.”

“That won’t stop me from working on the case, it would just make things a little harder.” He shrugged, hoping she didn’t call his bluff but refusing to take a subordinate position to her threats. “You want to make that call, you call.”

She regarded him with grudging respect. “Fair enough. No, I wasn’t a fed. I was a hacker.”

“A criminal?”

“Hell, no. I won’t say I never broke the law, but I functioned more as an informant to the feds, helping them get underground information on Internet pornography operations.” She smiled when she saw his surprise. “That’s right, you’re messing around in my playground, babe.”

“So when did you join the force?”

“A little over a year ago. They were putting together a special unit, a high-level computer crime operation, an experimental thing. And they recruited me based on my work as an informant.”

“You’re a rookie? Jesus…” He slapped a hand to his head, looking shocked.

She was up and standing before him, looming and mad as hell. Gorgeous as hell. Sexy as all get out. “I am
not
a rookie. There’s no such thing as a rookie in our unit. I went through accelerated academy training, and I’ve never been a street cop, true, but we’ve brought down more sleaze in a year than most operations do in five. And I have more computer expertise than you can imagine—obviously, since I was able to shut you down.”

“So you’re a cop behind a desk, working on a computer?”

“No. Do you think we can arrest people by computer? That we do it over e-mail? Jeez, slick, don’t be stupid.” She pulled her robe to the side, exposing a length of perfect thigh, and indicated the bandage. “Not a biking accident like I told you. Sorry. I was chasing a perp and fell on some glass. Believe me, I can hold my own when I need to.”

“I’m sure you can, but there’s no way I’m letting you in on something this dangerous, Sarah.”

When her eyes flashed with fresh temper, he took a chance and reached out, grabbed her hand and pulled her down beside him. She didn’t resist his touch, which he took as an encouraging sign.

“Listen, as far as I know these women could be dead. There haven’t been any new pictures on the Web site for a while—there’s no evidence of it being more than a one- or two-time deal with each one. So what happened to them after the pictures were taken?”

“Maybe they were sent elsewhere? Sold? Put out on the streets in a foreign country?”

His stomach clenched at the thought. “Mel would
have found a way out. Regardless of her problems, she wasn’t that kind of person. If she could have gotten out, she would have.”

“So you think she’s dead.” Sarah’s voice softened slightly and she squeezed his hand. “I’m so sorry for that, Logan. But since you’re all alone in this, you need me even more. If you are trying to track them down online, believe me, I can help you more than you can imagine. I have resources that—”

“No, I’m done with the computer searches. I’m taking it to their doorstep now.”

“And where would that be?”

He wasn’t about to tell her and she knew it, her full lips thinning.

“Listen, I can find out whatever you know, and faster than you did, believe me—you told me her name, and that’s all I need. So I’m in on this—deal with it, or deal with your captain.”

“You’re blackmailing me?”

“Such an ugly word, but if that’s how we have to play it, so be it. You are on your own, and you’re looking at some pretty ugly crimes happening in my backyard.”

Every muscle in his body tensed in response to her aggressive response, and he almost jumped back when she leaned in, slid her arms around his neck and pressed herself up against him. Was it only a few hours ago that they were lovers, and he was buried inside her, all of his secrets tightly kept? Where did this leave them? What were they now? Still lovers? Partners?

He didn’t like it, but he slid his hands around to her
back, unable to resist the softness of her body next to his. Confusion jammed his thoughts. These were dangerous people he was dealing with. He wasn’t about to let Sarah end up as one of their victims, even indirectly.

“Just let me help, Logan.”

“Why? You’re on vacation, why would you want to get caught up in this mess?”

He pulled back, looked down into her face, softer now. She had feelings for him, too, he knew, though they’d have to sort all that out later. Maybe it was just sex, but maybe not. There wasn’t time to figure it out now. Still, it didn’t stop his body from reacting to the closeness of hers, her warmth, her scent…. He saw her blue eyes melt as she put her hands on his shoulders.