Deep Dark (23 page)

He released her arm and eased back, rubbing his hand over his face. “Damn it, Laney.”

“It's a way to snatch passwords. Black-bag cryptography, you could call it. It's practically undetectable. Software-based antimalware programs can't defeat a system like this.” She searched his face for a reaction. “That is good for us, Reed. It's an important clue.”

He shook his head, obviously annoyed by the
us
in her statement.

“He was
there
, Reed. Right there in the office of their system administrator. Which means he got into the building, and we might be able to find him on their security tapes.”

Reed shook his head.

“You don't believe me?”

“Yes, I believe you. What I can't believe is that you don't see what you just did.”

She drew back, defensive. “I handed you another important lead.”

“Yes. And it adds to the pattern of what we know about this UNSUB. He spies on women. He gets into their phones, their emails, their lives. He hijacks webcams and watches them in their homes. What else do you think he can see when he does that, Laney?”

She thought she understood what he was getting at. “April's and Isabella's webcams were dormant when I examined them. He wasn't watching—”

“What about tonight, Laney? What if he was watching that system admin's computer? What if he saw you?”

She stepped back and felt her blood go cold. She hadn't thought of that. In her frantic race to get out of there, she'd completely missed the possibility.

Reed was staring at her now, his blue eyes intense. And he was right. She'd slipped up. She'd overlooked something, something that could come back to bite her. If the UNSUB hadn't already known she was directly involved in this investigation, he might now.

Reed watched her, waiting for her reaction, and she didn't want to admit that she'd made a mistake.

“What's done is done,” she said. “There's nothing I can do about it now.”

“Bullshit. You can
listen
to me for once. You can stay the hell away from this thing and let the police handle it.”

“Oh, like you've been doing so far?”

His eyes darkened.

“My work has been helping you,” she said. “Admit it to yourself, even if you won't admit it to me.”

He shook his head and looked away. “You're so damn frustrating, you know that?”

“Why, because I don't let you boss me around?”

“Among other things, yeah.”

She studied his face, rigid with tension. He was angry. He liked control. In his job, in bed. He liked to control everything, but he couldn't control her, and it pissed him off.

His gaze darted down, and heat sparked in his eyes.

No matter how frustrated he was with her, no matter how pissed off, he was here now. He couldn't stay away.

She eased closer and felt the tension kick up, proving what she already knew.

This time was different. Last time, she'd invaded
his
personal space and basically thrown herself at him. Not very many men would have refused her under the
circumstances, so she'd been careful not to attach too much meaning to it.

But tonight was different. The expression on his face was different. He'd come here, to
her
. And the simmering look she saw in his eyes now, the pent-up emotion, wasn't all about the case.

Excitement rippled through her. She went up on tiptoes to kiss him, but he caught her arm.

“I need to know something,” he said. “Why did you call that guy to pick you up?”

She eased back. “Ben?”

“Yes, Ben. Why'd you call him instead of me?”

“Because I needed a ride, not an interrogation.”

He held her gaze.

“You sound jealous.”

“I am.”

She couldn't believe he'd said that. For a long moment, she just looked at him, and the air between them felt charged.

He wanted her. He didn't
want
to want her. He thought she was too young, too volatile, too hard to predict. But he wanted her anyway, and the knowledge gave her a rush of excitement.

He reached out and took her hand, turning it over so he could see the cut on the pale underside of her forearm.

“What's this?” He looked at her.

“I cut it on the fence.”

“You all right?”

She nodded.

His thumb stroked across the pad of her palm that was scraped raw. He lifted her hand up and kissed it so softly it took her breath away. And she stood frozen
with amazement as his gaze locked on hers with more tenderness than she ever could have imagined.

Her stomach dropped a little. And then he slowly pulled her against him and lowered his mouth to hers, and it dropped a
lot
, like she was in an elevator, falling and falling, with no idea when she'd slow down.

Tenderness.

Of all things . . . she hadn't expected it, and she didn't know how to respond. She slid her arms up around his neck and combed her fingers into his hair and pressed against him as his tongue coaxed her mouth open. His lips were firm but gentle, and the warmth of him surrounded her as she pulled him closer.

“Laney,” he whispered, and she cut him off. She wasn't sure why. She tangled her tongue with his, and what started out as a gentle kiss quickly became heated and demanding. She stroked her fingertips over his cheeks, loving the stubble there, and she remembered how late it was and that it had been a long day and he was tired and frustrated, and yet he'd come here for
her
.

Her blood thrummed in her veins. She pressed herself against him, rocking her hips against his, and he made a low groan deep in his chest. Laney's knees went weak, but just then, he gripped her around the waist with both hands and lifted her up onto the counter. He pushed her knees apart and moved between them.

“Ummm,” she murmured, scooting closer to the edge and shifting her feet to slip off the oversized sandals. They fell to the floor with a
thunk-thunk
, and she used her bare heels to pull him in close. She liked this elevated vantage point, with his mouth against her neck and his hands tipping her body back to trail kisses over her collarbone. He tugged her shirt up, and suddenly,
his mouth closed over her nipple, sucking and pulling on her through her bra, and she gave a whimper and squirmed closer. He reached around her for the clasp, and then his mouth was hot against her bare skin, driving her crazy with need as she wrestled her T-shirt and bra off and tossed them away. Cool air wafted over her. She shivered with nerves and anticipation as his gaze dropped. His big, warm palm cupped her breast, and his gaze met hers.

“You are so sexy,” he said, stroking his thumb over her nipple, teasing her, and she squeezed her thighs tighter against his sides. She rested her hands against the counter and leaned her head back to enjoy everything he was doing. She loved his body, especially his broad shoulders. She stroked her hand over his arm, feeling his starched shirt beneath her fingers, and she decided she wanted it off right away. She went to work on his buttons, getting them open and pushing his shirt off his shoulders as quickly as she could, then pulling up his T-shirt. He helped her, yanking it over his head and throwing it aside, and then she skimmed her hands over all those smooth, hard muscles she loved as he bent over her breasts again.

She couldn't believe he'd come here. She'd thought he'd be mad at her tonight, maybe even avoid her altogether. But instead, they were in her kitchen shedding clothes.

In front of her window.

What if he's watching?

A cold shudder moved through her, and she pulled back.

“What?” Reed looked up.

“Bedroom.”

He dragged her off the counter, cupping her butt in his hands as she wrapped her legs around him with a startled yelp. He grunted and shifted her weight and carried her down the hallway and into her room. He stepped over some discarded shoes and stumbled to a stop beside the unmade bed.

“It's a mess,” she said, but he didn't seem to care as he lowered her onto the sheets and stretched out beside her.

His hand stroked down her body, only grazing her breast this time on its way to the waistband of her jeans. She pulled his head down for a kiss. She heard the soft pop of the snap and felt a surge of heat as he dipped his fingers into her panties. She shifted eagerly beneath him as she remembered how he'd made her mindless last time. She loved the way he touched her.

“Good,” he murmured, kissing her, and she realized she'd said it out loud. And then she couldn't say anything at all, because he slid his fingers inside her and she went absolutely dizzy. She arched her hips, desperately wanting more and more but at the same time wanting to hold back.

He rolled off her and stood beside the bed, then slid his hands over her hips, pulling off her jeans and panties in one smooth motion. She propped herself up on her elbows, blinking up at him in the dimness as he gazed down at her and unbuckled his belt. She felt the excitement pulse through her as his gaze roamed over her body and he got rid of the rest of his clothes. And then he was back on her, settling his weight between her legs and kissing her again with even more heat than before. She kissed him with all the stored-up passion she'd been feeling, everything that had been
burning inside her since she'd first met him. He was in her bed now. She had him. Right where she wanted him and for the whole night.

At least she hoped.

He sat back, catching his breath, and his gaze narrowed as he stared down at her.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

He traced his hand over her arm, careful not to touch her cut. “Are you sure you're—”

“Yes,” she said, rearing up. She shoved him flat onto his back beside her. She straddled him and sat back, and his look of surprise turned to desire.

She leaned over him, clamping her hands around his biceps as she kissed him—his mouth, his jaw—then trailed her tongue down over his chest, lingering on the line of hair that started above his navel, then working her way back up again. He shook off her grip, freeing his hands to stroke down her back and over her hips. He pulled her firmly against him and sat up, cupping the side of her face as he kissed her.

She pulled back and reached for her nightstand, but he already had a condom out, and she was too far gone to care where it had come from as she snatched the packet from him and tore it open with her teeth. He took it from her, quickly covered himself, and then shifted her hips as she lowered herself onto him.

“Reed.”

She braced her hand on his shoulder as he pushed into her, and it was deep and
good
, and she shifted her weight on him as he did it again. She gripped his shoulder, tipping her head back as he rocked against her, over and over again, and she loved having him under her and feeling his
immense power as they moved together. It was good. So good. So, so good she never wanted it to end, and she dug her nails into his arm and squeaked his name.

He heaved himself up and tossed her onto her back, pinning her with his hips. For a second, she was shocked. And then there was nothing in the universe except
him
and the perfect friction they made together. She clutched him tighter, pulling him as close as she could as she gazed up at him in the dimness. The muscles of his neck were taut as he propped his weight on his arms and drove himself into her again and again, and she thought she'd lose her mind.

And then it was too much, and she could feel the edge coming closer. She scraped her nails down his back and whispered in his ear, and he gave a powerful thrust that snapped her control, and he was with her as she came.

She went limp as he collapsed on top of her, finally settling his full weight on her body. She relished the feeling of him there but soon discovered she couldn't breathe.

He pushed up on his palms and gazed down at her, and she saw something in his face, a fleeting look, before he rolled onto his back. He stared up at her ceiling, then squeezed his eyes shut. She wondered what the look meant, if he was feeling regret.

Her heart pounded. She looked at the ceiling and tried to get her breathing back to normal and tried not to think about anything.

He got up and disappeared into her bathroom for a moment. When he came back, she was having a mini anxiety attack.

What now?

Would he spend the night? The idea made her nervous, and she tried to piece together why as he stretched out beside her in her bed. Her head was still swimming from everything that had happened. She'd spent most of the night in
jail
. And now she was ravenously hungry. And in need of a shower.

He rolled onto his side and pulled her back against him, and she closed her eyes, trying to forget everything except the solid heat of his body against her back. That part was easy. His breath was warm against the top of her head, and he slid his fingers up her arm. And slowly back down. And up again. And the soft, soothing repetition of it lulled her into a state of not caring. His hand stroked over her back. When it lingered on her shoulder blade, she tensed.

“What's this?” he asked, grazing his thumb over her scar.

She cleared her throat. “That night. When he was in my house.”

His thumb went still.

“I cut myself.”

He sat up on an elbow and eased her onto her back. His gaze was dark and serious. She knew what was coming, and she braced herself.

“Will you tell me about it?”

“Why?”

He reached up and stroked his thumb over her chin. “Because. I want to know you.”

She stared up at him silently. Her heart was drumming now as she studied his eyes. His mouth. She couldn't think of what to say. The moment stretched out, and she could feel his disappointment like a weight, but she couldn't get the words to come.