Ravished (The Teplo Trilogy #1) (12 page)

He tilted his hips into her, palmed her ass… drew deeply from her mouth.

"Please."

"Please what, beautiful?" he asked, kissing his way down her jaw, onto her neck, and then on toward her shoulder and collar bone. Her light floral scent and her sweet taste burst on his tongue, reeling him in. The urge to sink his teeth into her surged.

"Oh God," she groaned, pressing her body closer to his when he gave into that primal urge and bit at her shoulder. Her hips moved with his as he slipped his tongue beneath the thin strap of her top and pushed it aside with his teeth to unveil another strip of creamy, glistening skin to his eager mouth.

Had he really thought he'd be able to stay away from her?

He couldn't. Didn't really even want to try.

Christ, her soft little body felt so good against his.

He delved his fingers into her top, his heart hammering like a drum, and freed her breasts from the fabric. A throaty groan tumbled from his lips when he pressed his palms to the swollen pink tips to pluck and pull… teasing himself as much as her.

"Oh." Lillian's head fell back as he kneaded, his gaze riveted to the play of his skin on hers, of hard on soft, olive on ivory.

"Lillian…." He lifted his eyes, seeking her permission.

"Yes," she whispered.

He groaned and dipped his head. His tongue darted out – touched, twirled, and tasted. He licked, sucked, bit, teased, and taunted her until she writhed against him, her nails digging into his back and her throaty little moans filling the foyer around them.

"Tristan," she cried out, trembling when he slid his hands down her body to cup and squeeze her ass.

She arched into his touch, begging with her body for more.

He needed her just like this. Panting, begging, moaning… clawing. Not just tonight, but tomorrow, and the next day. Until he exorcised her from his system and the sexual frenzy coursing through him abated. Or embedded her permanently beneath his skin. He didn't really care which happened if it meant feeling her coming apart for him. If it kept her in his life.

Oh.
Hell
.

He stumbled backward in shock, away from her soft, warm brown eyes and tempting, creamy skin. "Lock the door behind me," he said, spinning on his heel. If he didn't get out now, he'd tumble her into bed, and wouldn't let her leave until she was too exhausted to move or hate him any longer. "Don't open it for anyone you don't know."

Instead of waiting for a response, he flung himself out of her house with a raging desperation to get away, his heart racing and his mind screaming that he couldn't follow through on the plan starting to come together in the back of his mind. That he shouldn't.

He would anyway.

Chapter Nine

"Zoë." Tristan ground his teeth together, striving not to yell at his cousin. "If you don't open the door, I swear to God, I will kick it in."

"You better not!" she warned him through the thick wood. "You already kicked in one door this month!"

"Then open up. I need to talk to Jason."

He didn't give a shit if Zoë was mad at him for what he'd said to Lillian. She could banish him from the house after he murdered her husband. Until then, she needed to open the damn door and let him in before he really did do something stupid and attempt to kick in the door. He was pissed off enough to do it, and that hadn't gotten him very far the last time he'd done the same, now had it?

"Have you talked to Lillian yet?" she asked, ignoring his command. Then again, she always did. No one told Zoë Ames what to do. Not even her favorite cousin. She was headstrong and stubborn as all hell, always had been.

"Yes. Jesus Christ, I talked to her tonight, okay?" He crossed his arms, tapping an impatient rhythm on the welcome mat with his foot. The deluge of rain battering the city drowned out the sound, which didn't improve his mood much either. His stroll from Lillian's door to the Rover had drenched him. The dash to Zoë and Jason's front door hadn't improved matters. He was soaking wet, pissed off, and sexually frustrated.

"Oh. Why didn't you say that before?" Zoë called happily. The deadbolt clicked and then the door opened.

"Fucking finally," he muttered.

"Your fault. I would have opened the door sooner if you'd told me you apologized to her already. What did she say? Did she forgive you?" Zoë asked, beaming at him.

Tristan barely spared her a glance, his gaze already trained on Jason who leaned against the wall behind his wife, his expression blank. The bastard knew exactly why Tristan was there.

"Tristan," he said, inclining his head.

Tristan's temper flared. "You bastard," he growled, stepping around Zoë.

Jason didn't even attempt to duck when Tristan took a swing at him. He just braced himself, and waited for the inevitable.

Tristan's right hook hit him in the jaw.

Jason's head snapped back. His center of balanced shifted and he fell, landing on his ass in the floor.

"Tristan!" Zoë screeched.

"You lied to her, you prick." Tristan ignored Zoë, instead glaring down at Jason. "Is that why you demanded I stay away from her?"

Jason remained silent, rubbing his jaw.

"Tristan, what the hell is wrong with you?" Zoë kicked him in the back of the knee, causing him to go down right beside her husband.

He shifted to the side as she attempted to slap him across the back of the head.

"Zoë, enough," Jason barked. "Let me deal with this."

Zoë opened her mouth to argue and then shook her head and stomped off toward the kitchen, muttering under her breath that if they killed each other, she wasn't cleaning it up. She'd just step over their bodies and go stay with her parents.

"Are you done?" Jason asked Tristan when she stormed into the kitchen. "I don't want to have to hit you back because she will leave our sorry asses here if we kill each other."

"You told her I used her." Tristan glared hard at his friend, pushing himself up against the opposite wall. "What the fuck, Jase?"

Jason's mouth thinned into a tight line, but he didn't deny it.

"Christ," Tristan swore as Zoë slammed shit around in the kitchen. "She actually believed you."

"I know," Jason said and fingered his jaw again. "I assume she's home?"

Tristan gave a curt nod.

Jason sighed. "You set her straight?"

"Why?" he asked instead of answering.

"Because of this right here," Jason said, pointing at him. "You were on her doorstep the minute you realized she was home. Better she think you used her than for you to blow your cover and risk her life."

"Dammit," Tristan muttered, wanting to fault his logic, but unable to do so.

"What happened at the club tonight?" Jason asked instead of reaming him for not staying away from Lillian as he'd promised to do.

Zoë stormed back into the foyer.

"Ice," she stated, dropping a bag of ice into each of their laps.

Tristan smiled at her when she threw a towel at him. Her expression thawed, affection replacing anger in her light eyes. It eased a little further when Jason crooned his appreciation, sucking up for all he was worth.

Jackass.

"They've installed a security camera on the storage room door," Tristan said, holding the ice pack to his already bruising knuckles.

"Shit," Jason swore, pressing his own bag of ice to his jaw.

"I didn't get close but it's only a matter of time before someone does." The thought of that happening made him sick to his stomach. "Jase, if someone else dies…."

"Yeah," he answered, sighing heavily. "I know."

Zoë frowned and sank down in the floor beside Jason who wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into his side. He never hid this side of his job from her, but Tristan knew he hated letting her hear it. They both did. Some things, not even his fierce little cousin needed to know.

"I don't know if I can get in," Tristan said, defeated and just really damn tired.

"Maybe we should just raid now."

"No." Tristan clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowed to thin slits. "If we're wrong, they'll walk."

"We might not have a choice. We can't keep waiting around, hoping we catch a break before they start shipping this shit out by the truckload."

"And if we don't wait it out, we'll blow the entire case."

"Then what do you suggest? We've tried to find the lab. We've tried for weeks and we have nothing. In the meantime, people keep dying," Jason said, his retort hard and angry. Frustration and exhaustion mingled in his tone.

Tristan understood exactly how his cousin-in-law felt. It didn't matter how many people like the Vetrov family the DEA stopped, there was always someone else to take their places. And there were always people desperate enough to take the shit people like Anton Vetrov peddled. Even if Tristan and Jason won this battle, they were still losing the war.

The thought sent a wave of exhaustion through him, the kind he felt all the way to his bones. He was too goddamn young to feel so old. But he couldn't walk away from this job any more than Jason could.

"We need another plan," he said, giving in to the inevitable.

"Yeah," Jason sighed, the heavy sound full of defeat. He reached for Zoë, wrapping her hands in his as if needing her touch to ground him in reality.

Zoë met Tristan's gaze, her wide eyes full of worry. Whatever she thought about this case though, she didn't say it. "How's Lillian?" she asked instead.

So far as subject changes went… that one sucked.

"She's pissed, and she's scared."

He kept hoping he'd wake up and this would be some sick, twisted nightmare. But it wasn't. He'd screwed up and gotten involved with Lillian. Now she hovered on the edges of this shit, about to be dragged into the thick of it. That would be his fault and he knew it. But he couldn't stop it any more than he could win this damn drug war. Lillian's refusal to leave forced them both onto a collision course, one he wasn't even sure he wanted to avoid.

"You're going to stay with her," Jason guessed, watching Tristan with a sharp, hawkish expression.

"She won't leave, and I can't let her stay there unprotected." If something happened to her because of him… No way could he handle that beautiful face landing in the long line that haunted his dreams.

"I can pull another agent to watch over her," Jason offered.

No, he couldn't. And Tristan wouldn't let him even if they had another agent to spare. Lillian was his to protect. He'd put her at risk, and it was his job to make sure she didn't suffer because of it.

"No," he said, his voice soft. "She's my responsibility. This one's all on me."

"How long?" Jason asked.

"Until it's over." Tristan blew out a breath and readjusted the bag of ice over his knuckles. "Until she's safe."

"You really like her," Zoë said, more truth than surprise in her voice.

"I don't even know her," Tristan answered, "but fuck if that matters, right? She hates me, but I can't leave her there alone. She-" He shook his head, not finishing that thought. "I'm so fucked."

No one disagreed with him.

"You know how dangerous this is, right?" Jason asked. "If your cover is blown, they'll take it out on her."

"I know," Tristan said, feeling sick to his stomach, "but I'm the one that put her in that position in the first place. I can't just walk away now, not when she might already be in danger because of me." Until he was certain Anton Vetrov had installed that camera out of paranoia and not because of his fuck up the night he'd met Lillian, he couldn't leave her there alone. Not when they'd been together inside
Teplo
more than once.

"We can call her father; hope he can talk her into leaving."

"We can't. I can't. Christ, Jase, tell me not to do this," Tristan said, his voice raw.

"Would it help?"

Tristan looked at him, not responding. They both knew nothing he said now would help. They'd tried that already, and it'd gotten them exactly nowhere. That camera changed things. Hell, it changed
everything
. Maybe Jason would follow through on his threat to fire Tristan, but not before he ensured Lillian's safety. Jason wasn't that big of a dick.

"What are you going to tell her?" Zoë asked.

Tristan arched a brow at her.

"I'm serious," she said, arching a brow of her own. "You weren't very nice to her. She might refuse to let you do this."

"I'm not giving her a choice," Tristan said.

"If you interject yourself into her life without giving her a choice in the matter, she'll never forgive you," Zoë said. "You're going to have to give her a reason to let you do this."

"Her safety is reason enough."

"Yeah," Zoë snorted, sarcasm dripping from the word. "That's going to convince her."

Tristan glared at her.

"She was a ballerina, Tristan. You'll have to do better than that."

"What's her career got to do with this?" he asked.

"Everything." Zoë rolled her eyes. "She was one of the most renowned ballerinas in the entire nation, you idiot. She didn't get that far by needing someone to rescue her. She fought for it, so chances are she's independent, strong, and smart. Do you really believe she's going to let you come in and uproot her whole life without telling her the truth about what's going on across the street?"

Well, shit. Tristan hadn't considered that, but now that Zoë brought it up… did he really think he'd just get her to agree to let him move in? Without divulging everything? Like Zoë said, Lillian was strong, and she was smart. She also didn’t like him much. All in all, unless they found a way to convince her, he'd be sleeping on her porch.

"I'll take care of it," Jason said.

Tristan's blood ran cold at the grim edge in his friend's voice.