THE FIRST SIN (17 page)

“Dibs on the couch,” I called and flopped on the pretty, comfortable piece of furniture. “Maybe I’ll just nap. Forget eating. I’m going to fall asleep and then you’ll never get rid of me.”

“Who said I wanted to get rid of you?” Donovan’s expression was intense.

Then he disappeared into the kitchen. The look on his face did funny things to my belly that shot straight between my thighs. Damn. I so had the hots for my partner.

My stomach rumbled and I wondered when was the last time I’d eaten anything? Ever since last Wednesday, when the world seemed to fall apart, I kept forgetting to eat. I was going to end up as stick-thin as my sister if I didn’t start eating. She was way too thin as far as I was concerned. Mammy and Daddy thought so, too, of course.

The most delicious smell, like roasted meat, began drifting from the kitchen.

I thought I’d die from hunger if I didn’t get something in my stomach, like now. I wanted to follow the incredible smells but I was soooo comfortable on that couch. My legs wouldn’t move, and I felt as if someone could stretch my arms and snap them back like rubber bands. Yeah, it had been a long week.

Pain for Donovan and his sister gripped me as I studied Kristin’s living room again. At the same time I couldn’t help but wonder about Donovan’s sister as a young girl, and a younger Donovan.

The pictures I’d noticed before on the fireplace mantel drew me. Despite my exhaustion I pushed myself from that comfortable couch and made my way to the fireplace. So many photos... a black-and-white that must have been taken in the sixties of a newly married couple. I saw two pictures of a family of four. The father was stern-faced and the mother unsmiling. Only Kristin smiled as she leaned against Donovan. He looked like he’d earned some of his hard edges by then, and I had a feeling his father had a lot to do with that.

I moved on to photos of an older boy watching a little girl splashing in a play pool, another one of the two of them eating ice cream, and one with the little girl on top of the boy’s shoulders. Even then Donovan was a solidly built young man, but he didn’t have the hardness to him that he had now. A photo caught my eye that looked like it hadn’t been taken that long ago. I picked it up and something jerk-pulled my stomach as I saw the little girl grown up into a young woman and Donovan’s arm around her shoulders. She had her head against his chest and he was smiling down at her. You could see the love and caring so clearly on his face that the pull in my belly was stronger.

Seeing Donovan with his sister in such happier times made it all hit me even harder. Before, Donovan’s sister was a faint image in my mind. She wasn’t anymore. I’d been determined to find his sister from the beginning, but somehow it now seemed more urgent and more real. “Ready to fill that bottomless pit?” Donovan’s voice from behind startled me and I almost dropped the photo. I set the picture back on the mantel and turned to face him.

“Kristin is beautiful.”

He looked at me and said, “Not only is she beautiful, but she’s a sweet kid.

Genuine.”

I moved closer to him. His presence was large and powerful no matter what he was doing. The handles of the serving tray he was gripping seemed so small in his hands. The serving tray even matched the rich mahogany furnishings. “Threw together some things from the fridge and pantry, and heated some roast chicken.” He set the tray on the glass-topped coffee table.

“Didn’t know how hungry you’d be.” His gaze met mine. “I can tell you haven’t been eating enough.”

My mouth watered as I sat on the edge of the couch. I rubbed my palms on my jeans as I held myself back from snatching up food and stuffing it in my face like a street urchin who hadn’t seen a meal for months. Roast chicken was on the tray, along with fresh green grapes, several cheeses, and bread that was obviously homemade. “I have got to follow you home more often,” I said as he handed me a plate and I dove into the minibanquet. He looked at me, his gaze steady. “Any time, Steele.” The way he said it, so serious, made me want to squirm in my seat. Somehow we’d hit a mutual understanding, and maybe something more.

Did I want to think about the something more? Onto my plate went lots of roast chicken, thick bread, one of every kind of cheese he had on the tray.

And grapes. I so loved firm, sweet grapes.

This time we ate in silence, not having a share-fest like we did the last time he’d cooked for us. It was not an entirely comfortable silence, I think because we’d told each other so much, yet hadn’t shared everything. We were keeping our cards close to our chests and neither of us wanted to call. “So, you have equipment set up to do some work on Operation Cinderella? I asked as we took the tray—just about every crumb gone off the plates—into the kitchen.

“Yeah.” Nick started washing off the plates and I was surprised that a guy would automatically clean up. I used paper plates—tossing them in the garbage was my version of cleaning up after supper. “I’ve got a little equipment set up in the spare bedroom,” he said.

“The whole kitchen is clean,” I said with amazement. “I can’t even tell you fixed anything for dinner.” Nick shrugged. “I like a clean house.”

“You wouldn’t like my apartment then.” I pictured bottles of Mountain Dew and Guinness on my end tables and clothes on the floor. “Just call first if you’re ever going to stop by.” He looked at me and raised one of his eyebrows.

“I’ll try and remember that.”

When we finished cleaning up—or rather Donovan did, wasn’t much I could do—he directed me to the spare room. The door to the room was slightly open and a blue glow spilled out through the opening. The glow was accompanied by the familiar smell of hardware and plastic that all hightech equipment seemed to have.

I stopped in the doorway while he continued on in. “Looks like your equipment is as high-tech as RED’s.” My gaze traveled over the surveillance cameras, holographic maps, and gadgets, along with several camera monitors, each focused on a different place. I had no doubt he’d installed it all to help him in his search for Kristin.

Donovan sat in one of the office chairs and immediately began analyzing a screen in the middle of a bank of computers and monitors. “Come on in,” he said without looking at me.

I walked all the way in. “You have your own ‘war room.’” He glanced at me over his shoulder. “Guess you could call it that.”

The room was clear of any furniture save for a cot along one wall. Every other bit of available space in what was a former bedroom was taken up by Donovan’s equipment. When I moved closer to him the clean smell of his spice-and-leather scent met me.

The leather was soft and comforting when I pulled up one of the six office chairs in the room. “Expecting company?” I said as I gestured to the other four chairs. “Have a team coming in.” Donovan moved his gaze to the camera monitors that showed parking lots and various other locations. “Recovery specialists.”

I frowned. “That’s what RED agents are.” Donovan still didn’t look away from the monitors he was scanning. “These guys are what you’d call ‘special.’”

“Okay. Special Special Agents.” I rolled my eyes to the off-white ceiling before looking at Donovan again. “I can go with that.” Sure.

And then we buckled in and worked our butts off trying to find more leads on Operation Cinderella, and evaluating those we already had.

“My head’s spinning.” When it hit eight p.m. I must have given the world’s biggest yawn. “I’ve got to get home and get some sleep.”

“I’ll walk you out.” He pushed his chair away from the bank of equipment and got to his feet.

I could have said I knew the way, but I found myself wanting to stay near Donovan a little longer. Thoughts of him touching me, kissing me, kept slipping through my mind. God, I’d bet he tasted so good.

When I rose from my chair I almost froze when I saw the intensely sexual look in his blue eyes.

I swallowed. Partner, Steele. This is your partner. A shivery feeling sensitized my skin as we walked side by side down the hall and out the front door. I used the remote to unlock the Cherokee’s door and turned to say good-bye. I caught my breath. Donovan had one hand braced on the open door, and one on the roof of my SUV. I was caged in.

But this wasn’t like that night when I was in a real metal cage. This was the kind of cage that gave me the sensation of being wrapped in his arms.

The glow that came from the light post barely made it through the tree leaves and Donovan’s face was shadowed. I could still see his expression which was intent as he studied me.

“Why don’t you meet me here tomorrow night,” he said, “and we’ll go to the Glass House together?” “Sure,” I said in a soft tone. “I’ll be here around eight thirty.”

He was close enough to kiss and I almost did just that. I almost flung my arms around his neck to draw him to me to share what I knew would be an incredible kiss. But he stepped back so that he was a couple of feet away.

“Good night, Steele,” he said, one of his hands still braced on the SUV’s door.

Donovan had been so close to kissing me, I knew he had. So why had he backed off? I clenched my fingers to control myself. He was so sexy in the near darkness. All those hard muscles, his broad shoulders, his long fingers and his intent expression—I wanted him. And I wanted him now.

“Be careful,” he said and I could swear his voice was tight, restrained.

“See you tomorrow,” I said as I climbed into the Cherokee, dug my keys out of my pocket, and put them into the ignition. He didn’t say anything else and shut the door. But when I pulled out onto the quiet street, I looked in my rearview mirror and saw him still standing there, watching me drive away.

April 6

Saturday night

“You going to be okay tonight?” Donovan looked so serious as he put his hands on my bare arms. We were in Kristin’s home, about to walk out and head to the Glass House for our second night of bondage fun. “Goddamnit, but I hate the idea of you going through any more of that” The way he studied me—it was more like he cared what happened to me. Not because of me being a woman, but because he really cared.

“I’ll be fine.” I tilted my face up and smiled, trying to reassure him.

My smile faded when I saw the change in the way he was looking at me. His gaze fixed on my lips as he raised his hand and cupped my cheek in his warm palm. He moved his thumb from my mouth and across my cheek in a slow caress. The sudden thudding of my heart and the catch in my breath caught me off guard. All I could do was feel his hand on my face, his thumb stroking my cheek. His scent of spice and leather and man intoxicated me.

Did I move? Somehow I had melted into the warmth of his body, and the hard muscles of his chest pressed against my much softer breasts.

He slipped his hand from my face into my hair and I gave a small cry of surprise when he clenched his fingers tight. At the same time he grasped my hip in his hand and pulled me to him so that I felt his erection digging into my belly.

Oh, my.

Because of the way Donovan had first touched me, I’d expected a gentle kiss, but there was nothing gentle about this man. His lips came down hard on mine, and he thrust his tongue into my mouth while kissing me with fierce intensity. The whole house felt like it spun around us as I groaned my need for him.

I loved it. I wanted more of it. I wanted every damned thing he could give me, and I kissed him with just as much intensity. I would have climbed him if the little dress I was wearing would have let me.

Instead, I ran my palms over his chest, his biceps, his shoulders. I needed to feel every part of him. His hands pushed up the back of my dress and he palmed my bare butt cheeks as he dragged me closer to him. Harder.

Tighter.

My body was on fire and my thong was damp with the need to make my fantasies come true and have Donovan inside me. How many times had I thought about that since I met the man?

Countless times.

Every day.

Every time I looked at him, was near him. We’d barely known each other for, what, a week and a half? But it felt like I’d wanted him forever. God, he tasted good. So masculine. So Donovan. How long did we kiss? It didn’t seem long enough when we drew apart. I couldn’t take my gaze from his, my lips still parted in wonderment, astonishment, and need. He stroked my cheek again. “I love your green eyes, the way they’re looking now, when you’re aroused.” I turned my head and slipped his thumb into my mouth and sucked. He groaned. When I drew away I looked back at him. “Who says I’m aroused?”

Donovan’s mouth quirked in a way that sent more desire through me. “We’d better get to the Glass House.” He gave me a critical, but teasing look. “You might need more lipstick.” I grinned. “That’s because you’re wearing it.”

April 6

Saturday night

My head still reeled from the kiss thirty minutes later, when Donovan—now Sire Dunning—and I arrived at the Glass House. The House was owned by Jason Strong, our next suspect.

During the week since our adventures at the Crystal Twilight, we hadn’t found a thing on Tarantino. We’d pulled as much intel as we could on Strong and Cabot, too, but were coming up with big fat zeros. Except for the fact they were all heavily into BDSM according to our sources—and our own observations.

The interior of the nightclub lived up to its name—everything was clear and frosted glass, with green, blue, orange, and yellow lights reflecting from strategically placed colored bulbs. The place was a little rowdier than Tarantino’s, but still extremely classy.

Once our names were checked on the guest list, we were escorted directly to the very back of the nightclub, to a set of heavy, thick, frosted-glass doors.

The white granite stairs we were taken to wound to a floor above the nightclub. As my stiletto heels clicked on the stone, I held my hand to my belly, the silky midnight blue wraparound dress a reminder that my clothes probably wouldn’t be on for too long.

This time I’d come prepared, though, after visiting an adult store with Georgina earlier today. We’d found a megasexy, very revealing outfit that I had on beneath the dress. The beauty of the getup was that it completely covered my breasts and all the important parts of my bottom half. It was as if I was wearing a bikini connected with strips of black Spandex down each side. No slip, lots of grip, worked for me.