Clouds In My Coffee (20 page)

Huh?

“Well that’s not exactly true,” I reply, finishing my glass of wine.

“It’s not far from the truth. The goal is to find out what sort of anesthesia she was using back then for tranquilizing her patients, isn’t it?”

“Well...yeah, but—”

“So, the purpose is to get information, not put her on the defensive. She’s not a suspect in any of this.”

“Well, wasn’t she curious?” I ask.

“No. I think she bought the idea that it’s more of a research mission versus a criminal one.”

I smile over at him, “Sounds as if you played it exactly right, Agent Trevani.”

“I usually do,” he replies and, for the first time, I notice his amber eyes are perusing me. I can sense his approval of the black v-neck sweater I’m wearing that presents a bit of cleavage, tastefully of course, along with another pair of jeans that aren’t of the tattered variety, and my new polished black boots.

“So, what time are we going?” I ask.

“This will be a solo trip, I’m afraid. It’s not customary for civilians to be involved to the extent you’ve been. You must know that.”

I feel myself tense.

What the fuck?

“Then why am I even here? What was the bit about us
strategizing
?” I’m a bit pissed off and not bothering to hide it.

“I need to know as much as you can tell me about that night Cece was with Marshall in Utah, at the family cabin in the mountains.”

Fuck.

I hate having to rehash that whole scene. It was bad enough the first time around.

I signal Michelle for another glass of wine. She brings it, along with our appetizers and Marco orders our dinner.

As soon as she’s gone, I relay the whole scenario of that night to him. It’s not as difficult to get through as I thought because I have his total attention and I like that. Once finished, I drain the rest of my wine.

I’m definitely feeling the high.

“You know, that property is still titled to her,” Marco says, reading from the report.

“It is?”

“According to the county auditor’s website. The address is listed right here.” He holds the paper up, but I don’t even try to focus on it.

“I know exactly where it is,” I say. “Can we talk about something else? For once, it might be nice to socialize without having Cece on my mind.”

Marco’s head snaps up quickly from what he’s reading. A smug smile plays on his full, sensual mouth. “I didn’t realize we were socializing,” he replies, his amber eyes warming, as he leans back in his chair.

“Well, I mean obviously, I’m not a colleague, right? Or a relative, so what’s left?” I wait for his answer.

“There you have me,” he says finishing his first drink and signaling Michelle for another. “What would you like to talk about?”

I run a hand through my hair, giving it a teeny bit of thought. “What happened between you and your fiancée?” I ask boldly.

His face darkens for a moment and I realize I just may have royally pissed him off. I wait for his wrath. “I simply found the mind I thought I’d lost,” he replies, giving me a grin.

Very good. Confirmed bachelor. I can hang.

“So, that’s it? I mean, she didn’t lie or cheat or anything?”

“Not that I’m aware, though I’m not one to check up on my mate,” he replies, scratching his five o’clock shadow. “It’s not my style and, really, what’s the point? I spend the better part of my day checking up, investigating, tracking people and dissecting lies to find the truth. I sure as hell don’t need that shit in my personal life.”

I realize he’s over-answered my question, which tells me Dad just might’ve said something to him about my
situation.
I found out when I got back to Utah that Mom had called Dad to fill him in which, in a way, I found a bit cheeky on her part.

Michelle brings his drink along with the appetizers. There’s a moment or two of quiet, and then I break the silence.

“So you know, don’t you?”

He arches his brow, “Not following,” he replies, taking a bite of his risotto.

“About me being...
dumped
,” I spit out, looking away. “My father said something to you, didn’t he?”

I hear a soft chuckle from across the table and my eyes find his once again. I suck in a breath when I see the way he’s looking at me. It carries no hint of sympathy or pity. It’s a look of fascination with a sprinkle or two of curiosity and, to be honest? It’s blowing my mind.

“Ah, don’t be upset, mia caro, fathers worry about daughters. It’s natural. I called him asking about you and, well, he filled me in on what that
bastard
had done—his words, not mine. I’ve not seen Nick that pissed, well, ever.”

Michelle brings our entrees and there is no way in hell I have an appetite for food at the moment. I’m kind of pissed at my father for sharing personal information about me to Marco.

I shake my head. “Christ, I hope I don’t have to worry about him ordering some mob hit now,” I mutter, picking up my fork to start eating.

And that brings more than a chuckle from Marco. “You’re taking it pretty well,” he remarks with a dazzling smile.

Fuck. There’s that dimple.

I need to play it cool. I don’t want Marco to know just how shattered Ryan left me, but what’s even more important is that I don’t want him to see how affected I am by
him
. This attraction, whatever its origin, confuses me. But there’s no ignoring it.

I am
affected
by this man.

“I try not to think about it. This helps.”

“What helps?”

“The distraction.”

He nods, lifting his glass to take a swallow of his drink. “Ah yes, solving Cece’s murder and bringing the perp to justice. I can see how that might serve to take your mind off other things.”

“No,” I reply, looking at him squarely. I’m done with mincing words here. “I meant the distraction of
you
.”

He stops swallowing, lowers his glass and peers at me; and at that moment his amber eyes flash...
something
. I’m pretty damn sure it’s lascivious in nature. I know by his body language that I’m not far off the mark. He feels what I’m feeling. Now, the question is: what are we going to do about it?

“I see,” he murmurs. “So, what are we going to do about that, Parrish?”

Hah!

I lean forward, my hands folded in front of me. “I’m afraid I don’t have much of an appetite this evening—for
food
, Marco. I might be amenable to fucking you, if you have no objection, that is.”

His eyes are intense now and I pray to God he doesn’t reject my forwardness because, trust me, it’s a fucking first. Without taking his eyes off of me, he snaps his fingers, “Check please, Michelle.”

Marco doesn’t waste any time in paying our bill and hustling me out to his car. Once inside, we have several moments to wait while the car warms back up and the windows defrost.

I decide to take an awkward moment and make the best of it. I raise myself up and over the console, my face nuzzling into him. My lips make contact with his neck, moving leisurely to his strong jawline, planting soft, warm kisses along the way.

My fingers are buried in his thick, dark hair, pulling his face closer to mine, and then the power shifts from me to him. He lets a low growl escape and his mouth takes full possession of mine.

His lips are soft and warm and totally owning mine. His large hands frame my face as he controls the tempo. I feel his teeth nip at my bottom lip and then he gently sucks it in, as a soft moan escapes me. His tongue parts my lips further and I press myself even closer to his masculine warmth, as our kiss deepens with lustful passion.

“Fuck,” he growls, pulling back, “We’re going to my place. Any objections?”

I smile, nipping playfully at his bottom lip now. “I wasn’t planning on fucking you in the car,” I tease.

Time has evaporated; I can’t even tell you how many minutes passed once we hit the road to the hotel where Marco is staying, because the whole way, I let my fingers do the walking all over his crotch. My fingers pressed, pulled and rubbed the denim-clad bulge that seemed to grow with every passing moment. My tongue teased his right ear lobe and, I swear to God, he was having difficulty keeping his eyes on the road.

“Christ, you need some cock,” he said, grinning as I toyed with the zipper on his jeans.

I have never been one to talk dirty before, but, then again, I’ve never felt this liberated before. Maybe I owe Ryan’s cheating ass for that, but whatever the reason, I like it. I want to be a dirty girl. I’m not looking for love or a relationship or ties that bind. I simply want raw, sport-fucking with someone who wants the same.

Marco fits the bill.

“No more than you need pussy, Marco,” I reply coyly, gripping his hard-on firmly, letting my thumbnail trace his length slowly up and then back down. I hear his sharp intake of breath.

He gazes over at me briefly, as he prepares to turn into the parking lot of Hilton North. “Sounds like we’re on the same page then,” he remarks, his eyes are kind of smoldering and, I’m not gonna lie, my pussy is already damp with anticipation.

We somehow make it inside to his suite, which is on the sixth floor, before we literally start tearing at one another’s clothing. Marco pulls my sweater off over my head, tossing it to the floor as his one hand cups my chin bringing my mouth to his, while his other hand roughly moves my bra aside to claim a breast, his fingers massaging my nipples to erection. I shiver against him. My fingers are roughly working the button above his fly. I sigh heavily, frustrated. I feel like I’ll die if I don’t grope his cock in the next thirty seconds.

He gives a soft chuckle, kissing the tip of my nose playfully and pulls back. “Easy girl, I can’t grow a new one, you know?”

God. I’m fucking embarrassed!

But, as I peer up at him, I see genuine warmth and amusement in his eyes.

It’s all good.

In seconds, I hear the sound of his zipper, followed by the sound of his jeans falling in a heap at his feet. He steps out of them, his eyes still on mine. He’s kicked off his boots somewhere between the door we came through and to where we now stand, at the foot of the bed.

“What are you waiting for? Don’t you want to see what you’ve been feeling the whole way back here?”

I feel warmth flood my cheeks as I peer down and see his impressive erection flat against his belly. No boxers. No tighty whities.

Marco goes commando.

And that’s pretty fuckin’ hot. Then I notice the glint of silver.

Fuck! He’s got a pierced dick!

Oh. My.

“Aren’t you gonna take your sweater off?” I ask, as if I’ve seen a zillion pierced cocks of his generous size. I mean, come on! No sense in giving Agent Trevani a big head, right?

No pun intended.

“Whatever you want, angel,” he replies, taking both hands and pulling his sweater up and over his head. I view his broad chest and admire the corded muscles of his upper arms. My gaze lowers to his firm flat belly and the narrow line of dark hair that trails south to what he’s got hanging “Now your turn, babe. I want to watch you finish undressing. And I want you to take it nice and slow for my viewing pleasure.”

I release the breath I’ve been holding and give a slight nod of acknowledgement.

He backs up the few steps to where the king-sized bed starts and lowers himself down, rolling to his side, one leg propped, one arm crooked and his head resting on his hand. His eyes don’t waver and I can see he expects me to do exactly as he’s instructed.

I can do this.

I lean over and remove my boots first, along with my socks. I straighten up and finish removing the bra he had moved helter-skelter when he wanted to ravage my tits. I let it drop to the floor and take this opportunity to cup my own breasts with my hands. I slowly massage them in a circular motion; my tongue wets my lower lip as he continues to watch what I’m doing.

I lick my index and middle fingers and then move them back to my breast, where I bring my nipple to full erection. I don’t miss the fact he’s moved his free hand to his cock, gripping it and slowly stroking it while watching me.

My fingers move to my other breast and I gently rub and tease that nipple, allowing a soft moan to escape. His eyes darken from amber to a chocolate brown and his tongue flickers across his lower lip.