Peter’s chest grew tight.“Yes, Inspector.Today.”He cast Yolanda a sideward glance.“When was her transfer approved, may I ask?”
“Three months ago.I refused to let her go until she’d closed off her cases.”There was a heavy pause.“The place isn’t anywhere near as enjoyable now she’s gone.”
Peter disconnected.He passed the phone back to Yolanda, unable to miss the smug expression on her face.
“Well?”
Her smooth and somehow throaty voice caressed his ears.Made his prick twitch with contemptuous attention.
“You want to say something to me, yes?”
“Your old Inspector says Hi.”
“That is not what I mean, Detective.”
He stared at the taillights of the car in front of his, sweat trickling down his temple.“You’ve got me so fucking mixed-up, Yolanda.I don’t know which way is up.When I should be thinking about Reggie I’m wondering what it would be like to…”
He faltered, knuckles turning white on the wheel.
“To what?Kiss me?”
Self-contempt gnawed at him.“Drop it, Yolanda.”
The hand returned to his leg.Caressed his knee.His thigh.“I can show you.If you let me.”
Peter clenched the wheel, his balls beginning to swell with base interest at the lazy strokes Yolanda’s fingers played over his leg.Resisting the urge to squirm, he studied her from the corner of his eye, knowing all too well she felt the tension in his body.Jesus.Everything in his gut told him she was wrong, that the whole situation was wrong, but with one touch of her fingers he was ready to fuck her senseless.What does she really want?Get her to answer that at least.Maybe then you can get your focus back on the hunt for Reggie.
“Tell me straight, Yolanda,” he said, keeping his stare firmly on the road.“Are you fucking with me?”
Her responding chuckle—somehow both dirty and innocent—made his groin throb with hunger.“No.But I would like to.”
He cast her a quick look, pulse pounding.“Do you seduce all your partners like this?”
“No.”
“Why don’t I believe a word you’re saying, Vischka?”
The hand on his thigh inched high, making his blood run hot and his mouth dry.“Because you are broken.”
Peter swallowed, the building tension in his lower body stealing his concentration.Remove her hand, Thomas!For Christsake, remove her hand.“Broken?”he repeated instead.
“Broken,” Yolanda whispered.
He pulled in a ragged breath through flaring nostrils.“How do you know that?”
“It is in your eyes.And the way you react and recoil from my touch.Like a man who finally tastes life after deprived of it for far too long.A man who hungers what he tastes yet fears it all the same, yes?”
Ravenous blood pumped through his veins at the thought of touching her.Touching her in ways partners never should.“Damn it, Yolanda.I don’t need this now!”
“I’m not trying to deceive you, Peter.”
He snorted, the sound sharp and scornful.
“Shall I tell you who I am?”she asked, angry, defiant and sad all at once.“I am single, my parents died when I was I seven, I have been in Australia for almost ten years, even when I was living in the orphanage in Germany I wanted to be a cop and I have a weakness for broken men.”She slid her hand higher up his thigh, her knuckles brushing the swell of his crotch before slipping back down to his knee.“I will fix you, Peter.Let me in,trustme and I will fix it all.”Her lips parted in a soft breath and she twisted in her seat, studying him with smoldering intensity.“Let me help you,” she murmured, leaning slightly toward him, her warm breath kissing the side of his neck, his jaw, sending libidinous pleasure through his body.He stared out through the windscreen, the surrounding traffic and Sydney itself gone, the world narrowed down to the growing tension in his groin and the thought of Yolanda in his arms…
“Let me help you, Peter.Let me help you find Regan.”
His sister’s name was a shard of ice stabbing straight into his gut.He glared at Yolanda, the blaring horns and sweltering heat of reality crashing over him in crushing, contemptuous force.“Why are you so interested in my sister?”he demanded through gritted teeth.
