but...I have to go to work,
Brooks,” I laugh lightly, “And so do you.”
“Work can wait,” he says, lowering his lips to the crook of
my neck. “I’ll give you a lift back to the penthouse. Just as soon as I’ve
fucked you dirty...”
A groan of want builds in my throat. I’ve never wanted
anyone like this before. Never craved someone’s touch like it was a drug. But
just like a drug, I know Brooks’ touch will get me hooked, and fast. I have to
keep this physical. Fleeting. The case depends on it. I force myself to think
of the case, of my job, as I slip out of Brooks’ embrace.
“Soon,” I breathe, pulling my hair into a messy bun. I try
and ignore the throbbing between my legs, but it’s no use. I’ll be jonesing for
Brooks all day.
“Fine,” he says, gritting his teeth. I can see his manhood
pressing through his jeans, stiff and ready. For me. “But soon can’t come soon
enough.”
“You’re telling me,” I mutter.
By some herculean effort, I manage to tear my eyes away from
his carved face, his amazingly balanced body, the scrawls of ink and dark brown
curls. I gather my things, relieved that I at least remembered my purse—and
gun—through last night’s shenanigans. For good measure, I snatch up a tee shirt
of Brooks’ as well. My sexy party outfit won’t quite cut it in the light of
day.
I don’t even dare to steal one last kiss from Brooks before
squaring my shoulders and preparing myself for the most epic walk of shame in
the history of the world.
Chapter
Nine
As I step out of the taxi and hurry into the FBI field
office, I hold my head up high and ignore the stares of my new coworkers. There
was no time to stop off home before coming in to work, so the entire office
gets to see my take on morning-after chic. My black skinny jeans, sky high
stilettos, and smudged makeup leave very little to the imagination, as far as
what I got up to last night. Thank god I’ve at least got Brooks’ tee shirt
draped over my crop top. I try to ignore how even the lingering smell of him
gets me worked up. The last thing I need is to spend the morning fantasizing
about my bad-boy-almost-lover.
Yeah
right, I think to myself, as
if I have a choice about that...
“Good morning boys,” I say brightly, stepping into the
conference room where Mitchell and Bruno are waiting.
The men glance up and gape unabashedly. Bruno bursts out
into unkind, uproarious laughter while Mitchell simply cocks his head, taking
me in.
“Rough night, Collins?” my boss asks.
“Productive night,” I reply with a confident smile.
“With that getup, I bet it was more re productive than anything else, am I right?”
Bruno cackles meanly.
“Clever,” I drawl, rolling my eyes, “And wrong. But thanks
for playing, Bruno. I spent the night partying at the Forty-Five Club, with the
entirety of Dante’s Nine and the Las Vegas Devil’s Wraiths.”
Bruno’s laughter cuts off with a strangled, indignant sound
as Mitchell’s face lights up with a pleased grin.
“Seriously, Collins?” Mitchell asks, “You got access to the
Dante’s Nine clubhouse?”
“Sure did,” I say, crossing my arms. “The clubs were having
a welcome bash for the newest member of the MC. All seventeen brothers were in
attendance, plus the old ladies I’ve been working with. And a few sweet butts,
to boot. They brought me along after we finished up with the website for the
day.”
“So you know who the ninth member is, then?” Mitchell asks
excitedly.
“Wh-what?” I stammer, caught off guard.
“The newest guy of Dante’s Nine. Who is he?” my boss
presses, nodding at the blank space among the club’s roster hanging on the
wall.
“Oh. Uh. His name is Brooks. Caleb Brooks,” I say, trying to
keep my voice light. Why does it feel like such a betrayal, speaking his name
in this building? If Brooks and the others are innocent, then no harm will come
from my relaying this information. Right?
“Excellent work,
Brooks,” I laugh lightly, “And so do you.”
“Work can wait,” he says, lowering his lips to the crook of
my neck. “I’ll give you a lift back to the penthouse. Just as soon as I’ve
fucked you dirty...”
A groan of want builds in my throat. I’ve never wanted
anyone like this before. Never craved someone’s touch like it was a drug. But
just like a drug, I know Brooks’ touch will get me hooked, and fast. I have to
keep this physical. Fleeting. The case depends on it. I force myself to think
of the case, of my job, as I slip out of Brooks’ embrace.
“Soon,” I breathe, pulling my hair into a messy bun. I try
and ignore the throbbing between my legs, but it’s no use. I’ll be jonesing for
Brooks all day.
“Fine,” he says, gritting his teeth. I can see his manhood
pressing through his jeans, stiff and ready. For me. “But soon can’t come soon
enough.”
“You’re telling me,” I mutter.
By some herculean effort, I manage to tear my eyes away from
his carved face, his amazingly balanced body, the scrawls of ink and dark brown
curls. I gather my things, relieved that I at least remembered my purse—and
gun—through last night’s shenanigans. For good measure, I snatch up a tee shirt
of Brooks’ as well. My sexy party outfit won’t quite cut it in the light of
day.
I don’t even dare to steal one last kiss from Brooks before
squaring my shoulders and preparing myself for the most epic walk of shame in
the history of the world.
Chapter
Nine
As I step out of the taxi and hurry into the FBI field
office, I hold my head up high and ignore the stares of my new coworkers. There
was no time to stop off home before coming in to work, so the entire office
gets to see my take on morning-after chic. My black skinny jeans, sky high
stilettos, and smudged makeup leave very little to the imagination, as far as
what I got up to last night. Thank god I’ve at least got Brooks’ tee shirt
draped over my crop top. I try to ignore how even the lingering smell of him
gets me worked up. The last thing I need is to spend the morning fantasizing
about my bad-boy-almost-lover.
Yeah
right, I think to myself, as
if I have a choice about that...
“Good morning boys,” I say brightly, stepping into the
conference room where Mitchell and Bruno are waiting.
The men glance up and gape unabashedly. Bruno bursts out
into unkind, uproarious laughter while Mitchell simply cocks his head, taking
me in.
“Rough night, Collins?” my boss asks.
“Productive night,” I reply with a confident smile.
“With that getup, I bet it was more re productive than anything else, am I right?”
Bruno cackles meanly.
“Clever,” I drawl, rolling my eyes, “And wrong. But thanks
for playing, Bruno. I spent the night partying at the Forty-Five Club, with the
entirety of Dante’s Nine and the Las Vegas Devil’s Wraiths.”
Bruno’s laughter cuts off with a strangled, indignant sound
as Mitchell’s face lights up with a pleased grin.
“Seriously, Collins?” Mitchell asks, “You got access to the
Dante’s Nine clubhouse?”
“Sure did,” I say, crossing my arms. “The clubs were having
a welcome bash for the newest member of the MC. All seventeen brothers were in
attendance, plus the old ladies I’ve been working with. And a few sweet butts,
to boot. They brought me along after we finished up with the website for the
day.”
“So you know who the ninth member is, then?” Mitchell asks
excitedly.
“Wh-what?” I stammer, caught off guard.
“The newest guy of Dante’s Nine. Who is he?” my boss
presses, nodding at the blank space among the club’s roster hanging on the
wall.
“Oh. Uh. His name is Brooks. Caleb Brooks,” I say, trying to
keep my voice light. Why does it feel like such a betrayal, speaking his name
in this building? If Brooks and the others are innocent, then no harm will come
from my relaying this information. Right?
“Excellent work,
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