Tales of Chills and Thrills: The Mystery Thriller Horror Box Set (7 Mystery Thriller Horror Novels) (21 page)

The word sprung out before he could swallow it.

“Alone?”

Nicki shrugged and gave him a sassy wink.

“Let’s just say, I’m leaving here alone but I do plan to have company tonight.”

She turned to go then looked back and added, “In case you are interested, I haven’t told my father where I was going at night since I turned eighteen—at which point he stopped asking me.”

With a sweet smile and a little wave, Nicki spoke to the group.

“Night, guys. Don’t wait up for me.”

Through a haze of red, Rafe became aware that Grayson was tugging on his arm, holding him back.

“C’mon, man. Let her go. You can’t have it both ways, Rafe.”

Nicki’s curvy hips swayed with every step as she clicked her way across the stone walkway to the garage. Red-gold tendrils sprung loose from the jeweled comb holding the swirl of curls she’d twisted up on the top of her head. Every click of those outrageous heels drove a spike through Rafe’s heart.

Chapter 23

The pounding water beat a tattoo of red hot pinpricks on his back and neck. Rafe was determined to loosen the tension that had his muscles twisted in knots. He snorted derisively. Hell, if pounding the bag for the last hour hadn’t done it, he was asking a lot of the shower. Nope, there was only one solution to this dilemma and it didn’t involve sitting in his room sulking or beating his hands and feet raw against a leather bag. Hell no. This called for interpersonal violence.

Toweling off, he dragged a pair of jeans and a t-shirt over his still damp body. Not bothering with a comb, he shook the excess water from his hair and ran his hand through it. He huffed out a dismissive grunt. Guess that’s why he paid Tony what he did to cut it. Rafe didn’t have to comb it—it worked no matter what he did.

His reflection in the mirror stopped him. Damn, no wonder his men were alarmed. If he saw him coming he’d be concerned too. He looked like a man out to kick some serious ass. He shrugged. May as well let the assholes know what they were facing. He had a rule he’d followed for most of his life. He didn’t kill unless it was absolutely necessary. Tonight it might be necessary. Shoving a knife in his boot, he strapped on his ankle holster. Rummaging through his gun safe, he chose his trusty Rugar. After checking the slide, he slid the sleek weapon into its holster and headed to the door.

Glancing over his shoulder, he threw a contemptuous glare at the man in the mirror. Even in the state he was in, he knew the weapons were for show. As in the past, if they stripped him of every gun or knife, he still had his most powerful weapon, his killing-machine body.

A light knock stopped him. Goddammit. This he did not need. He’d listened to Grayson for the last time. He knew his friend—hell, his brother in arms—had his best interests at heart. But Grayson didn’t understand. Nicki was out there. Alone. Or worse, not alone. That simply would not do.

Swallowing a frustrated groan, he prepared to make short work of his interfering friend. Grayson needed to understand. The time for discussion was over. Sometimes a guy needed to do what he had to do, even if it wasn’t right or smart or worthy of him. Tonight was such a time.

Jerking open the door, he froze, then stepped back, stopped by the only thing that could have made him change his mind. Nicki.

She took his breath away. For a long moment, he simply stood there. Then, regaining his composure, his ever present arrogance kicked in. Quirking a brow, he drawled, “Can I help you, Princess?”

She started, indecision flashing across her beautiful face. She made a visible attempt at nonchalance but her voice gave her away.

“I…I…may I come in?” He leaned against the doorjamb, folding his arms across his chest. He took a deep breath then blew it out hoping to get rid of some of the adrenaline coursing through his body. The breath didn’t work. He tried instead for indifference.

“I thought you were going to town.”

She frowned and her chin went up a notch, a warning signal he’d come to know.

“No, I said I was going out.”

“Hmm, and now you aren’t?”

She tossed her head and sucked in a noisy breath.

“No, what I’m looking for is right here.”

When he frowned, unable to cover her nervousness, she added with a shaky smile gnawing at her trembling lower lip, “Are you going to invite me in or not?”

The fury that had been driving him all night slowly began to dissipate. In its place he felt righteous anger. The one thing he was not going to do was play games with this woman. He shook his head.

“Uh, no, Nicki, I’m not.”

His dismissive tone had an unintended effect.

Her eyes narrowed then she tossed her head and gave him a sweet smile.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to invite myself in.”

As she brushed by him, he grabbed her arm. “What are you doing, Princess?” His voice held a low threat.

She jerked her arm free then marched past him. Looking over her shoulder she said, “Given your bad manners, I guess I’m inviting myself in.”

Pushing by him, she walked into the center of the room. Pointedly avoiding looking at the bed, she glanced around the room, then focused on the sitting area. Her throat jerked when she tried to swallow. She threw a desperate glance at the liquor cabinet. When she spoke, her voice shook in spite of herself.

“Aren’t you going to offer me something to drink?”

“No, Princess, I’m not.”

He held her gaze, not surprised at the anger he felt. He didn’t know what the hell she was doing—and being fair, it didn’t look like she did either. What he did know was that he wasn’t going to play games. Remembering the helpless anguish he felt watching her flounce out of the great room, a fresh wave of anger flooded him.

He made a production of closing the door, then twisted the lock. Turning toward her, he leaned against the door, his arms again folded across his chest.

“In my experience, Miss Powers, when a woman comes to a man’s room late at night, she isn’t coming to have a drink.”

A flush of pink stained her cheeks.

She bit down hard on her lip, making it even puffier, more inviting than usual.

“But Mr. Boudin…isn’t it polite at least to offer a guest a drink?”

His dick swelled, eager to play a part in the conversation.

“Perhaps,” he conceded with a dismissive nod, all the time wishing he’d chosen looser trousers rather than a tight pair of blue jeans. “But given that this particular guest wasn’t invited, and that my room is likely only one of her stops along the way tonight, a drink doesn’t seem obligatory.”

Nicki’s cheeks blushed brighter. A flare of anger darkened her eyes. When she moved toward the door as if to leave, he held up his hand.

“Uh uh. No you don’t. No games. Why are you here, sweetheart?’

She raised her chin and glared at him. Only her fists clenched at her sides gave away her nervousness.

Tipping her head up yet another notch she took a deep breath then shrugged.

“I …I came to seduce you.”

Looking away to hide his shock he walked over to the liquor cabinet and took out a bottle of whiskey—and one glass.

He poured himself a full portion of the amber liquid, then turned to face her.

“I see. In that case perhaps I should have something to drink.”

Nicki shuddered and closed her eyes. When she opened them he was staring at her, the seeds of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. A tight black t-shirt clung to his heavily muscled chest. His jeans hugged his strong thighs. He’d crossed his legs at his ankles, which only served to make the telltale bulge in his pants more apparent. Caught in his sea green stare, she felt like a field mouse trapped by a ravenous eagle poised to swoop down on her. She was helpless to look away. Staring at his damp tousled hair, the raffish curls hanging carelessly across his forehead, she wondered desperately how she could have let Katya talk her into this.

Rafe raised his glass to her, a flippant salute, then took a deep swallow of the potent alcohol. Raising both hands in mock surrender he said with a smirk, “Have at it, Princess.”

Something in his amused arrogance jerked her out of her cowering shell. Glaring at him, she decided that since she’d already made a fool of herself coming here, why stop now?

Pressing her lips together she narrowed her eyes then snapped, “Fine.”

She nodded at his chest.

“Take off your shirt.”

Rafe blinked in surprise, then his grin widened.

“Not the most subtle opening line I’ve heard, but, what the hell, if it’s skin the lady wants.…”

Nicki flushed and chewed her lip at his amused chuckle. With a glare, she motioned to his shirt.

Taking another long drink of his whiskey, Rafe set the glass on the table behind him. Tugging his t-shirt out of his pants he grabbed the hem, pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor.

Smiling at her gasp, he flexed his arm muscles causing his biceps to bulge, and his abs to tighten further.

The lines beside his eyes crinkled, “Anything else, sweetheart?”

Nicki swallowed, her moment of courage fleeing in the face of this extraordinary man.

Rafe’s eyes narrowed at her hesitation. He picked up his glass and took another deep swallow.

“Tell you what, Princess. How about we make this a ‘mutual’ seduction?”

Jerking his glass at her chest, he said, “Take off your blouse.”

When she startled and frowned, he nodded again at her chest.

“And, baby, undo those buttons slowly, one at a time.”

Nicki felt a rush of heat flood her groin at his challenging tone. Refusing to be scared off, she met his gaze and willed her fingers to stop shaking. One by one she unbuttoned her blouse, then mimicking his careless gesture, she tossed it to the floor. Grateful that the white lacy bra Katya had chosen seemed to have the desired effect, she took advantage of his admiring stare and said with a brazen nod.

“Now, your pants.”

Rafe smiled and shook his head.

“Uh uh, Darlin’. You’ve got way too many clothes on compared to me. Before I take off anything else, I want to see the whole package.”

He took another sip of his drink, then waved his hand at her skirt.

“Take it off, baby. Take off your skirt and take it off slow. I wanna see what you chose to go with that beautiful bra.”

Stunned at the way her body was reacting to his cocky commands, Nicki tried to keep her hands from shaking—but it was no use. She managed to unhook the clasp at the waistband, then fumbled with the zipper on the back of her skirt. Seeing his grin widen at her clumsiness, she glared at him even as she slowly eased the skirt to the floor, letting it pool at her feet. She stared at him briefly, then looking away she daintily stepped out of it. Gathering her courage, she perched her hands on her hips, letting then them rest on the white satin garter belt holding up her lace topped stockings.

The look on his face unnerved her. Unable to decipher the flashing gleam in his eyes, she shrugged and tried to sound carefree. “Ta da. The whole package.”

Rafe whistled a low husky sound. “Fuck, Nicki.”

Staring at the erotic sight in front of him Rafe struggled to breathe. She was the picture of innocence, a vision in white lace. But without a doubt, the sexiest damn woman he’d ever seen. Under the white satin garter belt a lacy triangle covered what he now knew was the coiled snake, the instigation of the perpetual hard-on he’d had since he’d seen her naked body three nights before. He could only imagine what she looked like from behind, with the narrow string of her thong highlighting the crack between the cheeks of her perfect ass. Not taking his eyes off her, or trying to hide his eagerness, he bent down and yanked the knife out of his boot and tossed it on the table. He unstrapped his ankle holster and put both the gun and its holster beside the knife. He toed off one boot then reached down to remove the other. Taking a deep raspy breath, he stood up and flexed his bare feet. He smiled when she pressed her hand against her mouth. She watched as though mesmerized as Rafe undid first one then another of the buttons on his jeans, then shoved them lower on his hips. He left the last two buttons closed. Given his erection, there was no danger that his pants would slide off.

He leaned back against the edge of the cabinet and took a sip of the potent whiskey hoping to ease the encroaching tightness in his throat.

“Take off your bra, Princess. Again, honey: Do it slow.”

Two bright pink spots stained her cheeks. She closed her eyes for a second, then opened them and gave him a tentative smile. When he nodded to her, she bit down on her bottom lip and reached behind herself to undo the clasp of the lacy structure.

When she hesitated, holding the fabric against her breasts, he gave her a reassuring smile, one of the few genuine smiles he’d ever shared with her.

“That’s right, Nicki. Take your time. This is a sight I want to remember for the rest of my life.”

She flushed, then lowered the straps of her bra and let it fall to the floor. Rafe did his best not to frighten her but he couldn’t hold back a low groan. Damn, her breasts were beautiful. Full and firm with soft pink nipples hardening to tight peaks at his lecherous stare. He longed to put his mouth on them… lick them… suck them… and bite them. As if she could read his mind, her nipples tightened, further hardening like bright pink berries.

Before he strode across the room to take her in his arms, he had one more task to check off his list for fantasies come to life.

“Nicki, I need you to take off those sexy shoes. But Princess, when you do, I want you to turn around and bend over.”

His voice dropped to a husky growl. “And Nicki? Take them off real slow.”

Chapter 24

Nicki raked in a deep shuddering breath of air. Her knees threatened to buckle. Her breasts were heavy, achy with need. Her nipples tingled. She longed to feel his hands, his mouth on her. She imagined the rasp of his beard stubble on her tender skin… the heat of his breath.

Rafe held her in his powerful gaze, as tightly as if his arms were wrapped around her. His eyes were a dark green forest of erotic desires. An aura of power surrounded him. He owned the space around them. His urgency, his insistence on seeing all of her, all the intimate places that she’d never revealed to anyone, should have frightened her, but his crooning voice thrilled her. It was low, commanding. It made her want to obey his provocative orders. And she didn’t want him to stop.