“Should I bring anything?” she asked, meeting his gaze.
“An overnight bag.”
She slid off the barstool and grabbed his wine to take it back to her table. “See you in an hour, Raze.”
He grabbed her elbow and squeezed gently. “Make it thirty minutes.”
Again, she searched his face. Again, she saw something that settled her. “Forty-five. I’ll hurry.”
“Hurry faster.”
5
“Are youinsane?”
Kim looked at her best friend and shrugged. “Maybe a little.”
“Your dad is a cop,” Delia reminded, twisting her martini glass back and forth. “Your brother is a cop. You know better than to go home with strange men you pick up in a bar. He could be a serial killer or a sexual sadist or…anything!”
“It’s because I’ve grown up with cops that I know what I’m doing with him.” She’d watched the way he walked into the bar. The confident stride, the coolly observant eyes that took in everything, the way he carried his powerful body with limber agility. A hunter. She’d bet money he was undercover vice. Just as she’d bet that something about his job was eating at him now, and he wanted to put it away for a night, take some solace from someone who wouldn’t be around long enough to remind him he’d lost his edge for a few brief hours.
Looking back over her shoulder, she remembered watching Raze take a seat at the bar and how he’d looked into his glass as if the answer he was looking for could be found in it. Wasn’t she here for the same reason? To seek oblivion in the companyof others. So they’d narrow it down to the two of them and toss in orgasms and physical exhaustion. There were worse ways to spend the night—like lying in bed alone, drenched in clammy sweat and shaking with fear.
Delia frowned, her dark eyes filled with worry behind her chic, electric-blue eyeglass frames. “This sort of reckless behavior isn’t like you. You don’t want to admit it, but you’re still reeling from what happened to Janelle. You’re not in the right frame of mind.”
Janelle. God. Kim polished off the last of the shiraz. Even though she’d moved into a different apartment in a different part of town, she couldn’t get the memory of coming home to her roommate’s murder out of her head. Janelle had been running from her crazy ex for years, but he’d finally tracked her down and taken her life before turning the gun on himself. Kim couldn’t close her eyes without seeing it all over again—blood everywhere, splattered over everything, pooling on the floor in a viscous crimson lake. The sharp metallic smell of fresh death had seared her nostrils, indelibly etching a nightmare in her mind.
“I have to go.” She dug her business card out of her purse and wrote Raze’s name and room number on the back. “If I turn up missing, here’s the last place I was.”
“Ha! That’s not funny, Kim.” Delia looked at the others. “Tell her she’s out of her mind. Stop her.”
Justin looked up as she stood. He shook his head. “Sorry, Dee. She’s not changing her mind. She’s got the devil in her eye.”
“Leave off, Delia,” Rosalind said, fanning herself. “That guy was seriously hot. I’m rooting for her. Go, Kim, go. Rock his world. Make him beg.”
Delia groaned. “Oh my God, you’re all whacked. I’m calling your brother, Kim.”
“If it makes you feel better,” Kim said dryly, bending down to kiss her friend’s cheek. “Go for it. See you guys Monday.”
“If you’re still alive then!” Delia yelled after her. “You sex-crazy maniac.”
Kim was smiling all the way to her car, but her humor was gone when she slid behind the wheel—replaced by a hotter, more pressing emotion. A gorgeous, dangerously seductive man was waiting in a hotel room for her. A man who was aching and lonely, just like she was. For tonight, at least, she wouldn’t have to take a damn pill to fall asleep.
6
The minute Raze walked into his hotel suite, he felt as if the air had thinned. Being alone was rubbing him the wrong way, which was opposite to his usual desire for as much solitude as possible. There were too many stimuli in the world to allow him peace—the pounding of heartbeats, the steady surge of blood in veins, the various scents that betrayed mood and train of thought. He avoided crowds when he could, but now it seemed he was stuck in an odd place where being alone was more miserable than being around others.
Rolling his shoulders back, he pulled the box of condoms out of a shopping bag and set it on the end table by the small loveseat. He left the new bottle of wine on the dinette table and tossed the bag in the trash, wondering what the hell to do with himself.
He ran both hands over his head and down the back of his neck, growling as he struggled with an unusual sense of anxiety. This time-lapse from meeting a lover to fucking her was a step he’d been skipping for a few centuries. He usually laid ’em where he found ’em, which worked for everyone. If he’d hooked up with the bartender, it likely would have gone down at the club, in the back somewhere, quick and dirty. Waiting for Kim wasexcruciating because it gave her time to have second thoughts. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if she changed her mind. She’d made him want her. Now, no one else was going to suffice.
Raze moved into the bedroom and plugged his iPod into the docking station, his tension easing a little as Hinder drifted out of the speaker. Feeling confined by his clothes, he began pulling them off. His shirt went first, followed by his boots, jeans, and boxer briefs. He was tossing his clothes over the back of a bedroom chair when he heard the knock in the living area.
The surge of lust that hit him affected the steadiness of the first step he took. Then it perversely strengthened his stride. His purpose and focus narrowed to his body’s need for the woman on the other side of the door. It was a base and elemental craving, purely physical. Still, a part of him was distantly aware that her bold yet easygoing personality had tipped the scales enough to tempt him to this madness. She was all wrong for him. So wrong. But he knew it would feel so damn right when he pushed inside her.
He pulled the door open. His breath hissed on a sharp inhale at the sight of Kim on his doorstep, dressed in a fitted white tank top and worn jeans that hugged her like a lover. She’d let her hair down, freeing the riotous mass of inky curls to tumble around her slender shoulders and halfway down her back. Her feet were bared by jeweled sandals, revealing toenails that were painted black and decorated with white flowers and swirls. Gold hoops hung from her ears, replacing the diamond studs she’d worn earlier. He was flattered she’d given thought to how she looked for him.
Presently, however, she seemed focused on lookingathim.
