I Spy a Dark Obsession by Jo Davis

hair down.
    Blaze was sort of a nut, which was a far cry from the tough agent she’d infrequently glimpsed at work. While they sipped their drinks, he kept them entertained with stories of ops gone FUBAR, with the other two men chiming in on occasion. With his shoulder-length, dark hair, chiseled face, and muscular build, he was quite handsome. But he couldn’t hold a candle to Michael or Bastian.
    “You did not put a millipede in Ozzie’s sleeping bag,” Emma admonished her lover, referring to fellow agent Dean Osborne.
    Blaze shrugged. “Hey, they’re big and ugly, but harmless—unless you kill yourself getting away from one. You shoulda seen the guy dancin’ around, screamin’ like he was being skewered by Freddy Krueger.”
    Emma smacked the big man on the arm. “That is so mean!”
    “Speaking of dancing.” Bastian drained his martini and stood, holding out a hand for Katrina. “Would you like to?”
    “As long as you’re all recovered from the wreck,” she said. A small, flesh-colored bandage on his forehead peeked from under a fall of blond hair. “I don’t want you to overdo it.”
    “Oh, I think we both know how recovered I am. Please?”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?” Michael asked, frowning.
    She grabbed Bastian’s offered hand and they ignored the other man’s question. “In that case, yes!”
    As he guided her to the dance floor, she caught Michael’s stare. He always appeared so controlled and distant that the fierce hunger in their dark depths surprised her, sent a shaft of awareness zinging through her body. Did he know what she and Bastian had almost done? Would he be angry? Or possibly turned on? Then Bastian tugged her through the crush, onto the floor, and the connection was severed.
    The warmth, however, remained. Stoked to arousal as she and Bastian faced each other, they began to move to the throbbing beat of the music. It was a driving number with sexual lyrics, a standard club tune, but there was nothing common about the way her partner’s hips swiveled to the tempo. His body swayed with fluid grace, suggestive. Mesmerizing.
    The man had missed his calling as a porn star. He had the moves and the beauty, that touch of soiled innocence she found difficult to resist. Had she thought him an angel? Perhaps one with a slightly crooked halo. She’d dearly love to learn just how far he’d fallen from grace.
    Her thoughts must’ve been telegraphed to him somehow, because he reached out and pulled her flush against his body, sealing them together from chest to groin without breaking his rhythm. She’d dirty danced once or twice, but never had she felt as though a man was made to fit against her. His lean, hard muscles were so good under her hands, so right. His sexy mouth was tilted up at the corners, those bottle green eyes shining with amusement, as if he had a wicked little secret and was waiting for her to discover it.
    The impressive erection digging into her stomach, however, was no mystery. His desires were clearly communicated, but whether he’d ever finish what she’d started was the question. Maybe he felt funny about playing with an employee. Maybe not.
    Returning his look, grinding against him with the beat, she silently gave him her vote.
    She had about a dozen queries on her mind, things she’d love to ask him about himself. She’d really love to know more about his bisexuality, his experience. Whether or not he was seriously seeing anyone, though the vibe he was sending off said no. It was just as well that the loud music made conversation almost impossible, because his personal relationships were none of her business. Much as she wished differently.
    Just as they found their groove, a hard male form pressed into her from behind. Twisting to see the newcomer, she smiled at Michael and then continued to dance. Nothing fired her blood like being in the very position she’d dreamed of, even if they weren’t all naked. Being sandwiched between them felt very