Only my mind fastened on the words and suddenly began imagining other things going slowly in and slowly out. And that caused still more chaos.
I took a sip of the deliciously cool liquid, but it didn't do a lot to stamp out the sparks threatening to become a bonfire.
God, if this man wasn't the wraith, then he was something just as dangerous. Hell, the use of werewolf auras were restricted by law and this damn well should be too.
I cleared my throat and said, "So, Kye Murphy."
He shrugged. It was an elegant movement. "He could have come here. I don't know everyone who visits my establishment. But perhaps a description would help?"
"He's several inches taller than me, with dark red hair, golden eyes and strong build."
"And a werewolf, like you?"
"Yes." I took another sip of champagne.
"Then I doubt it." His sudden smile was wicked. "We don't really cater to their addiction."
"We like sex, but it's not an addiction." It might be a necessity during the full moon, but that was different. I glanced surreptitiously at my watch. Little more than ten minutes had passed. Time had obviously decided to slow to a crawl. I hoped Kade and his crew weren't intending to do the same.
"So, you're admitting you like sex, and yet you refuse to have it with me. I find that most disappointing."
"I'm working. And did I mention my hot date?"
He smiled. It was lazy, insolent and oh-so sexy. "I simply thought I could get you primed and ready."
I was primed and ready to go right now, and if I didn't do something to distract this man—or whatever the hell he actually was—I was going to be exactly where he wanted me to be. In his arms and naked.
But there was only one thing more I could think to question him about, and if he was our flesh shifter, it would warn him we were onto him.
And yet, better he be warned than me having sex with him. That was my only other option right now.
I exchanged my drink for my purse and pulled out the picture Kye had given me. "I don't suppose you know this man, then?"
He reached for the printout, his fingers briefly caressing my wrist before sliding down to grasp the piece of paper. A tremor ran through me and I took a large slug of champagne. If Kade didn't hurry his ass, I was never going to get through this.
Either I was getting depressingly staid in my old age, or he just felt too dangerous for my wolf to handle.
Or maybe I'd just finally realized that the real joy in sex was not just the motion and the pleasure, but the emotions that clicked in when you became involved with that one special person.
Of course, I had two special people to contend with, but that was just fate being a bitch.
"I think I have seen him around a couple of times," Starke mused, looking at the printout.
"And can you tell me anything about him?"
"Perhaps." Amusement twitched his lips. "But I can't possibly say anything without getting something in return."
"I am not going to get naked and sweaty with you." I took another drink, and realized I'd somehow finished the glass. "I already have a plan to do that with someone else."
A full blown grin erupted. It was stunning. "All I ask is for you to undo two buttons."
"Two buttons?"
"Yes." He picked up the champagne and refilled my glass, his knees pressing briefly and sensually against mine. "Just two little buttons."
I pretended to consider the request, then swiftly undid the buttons. The flimsy shirt fell further open, revealing the dark pink edges of areola.
"Lovely," he all but purred. "Simply lovely."
"The information, Starke," I said dryly.
"Of course." He filled his own glass then added, "He's not a regular here, but I have seen him on a few occasions."
I raised an eyebrow. "Why would you notice him when you didn't notice someone like Murphy?"
"Because this man didn't come here to feed or be fed on. He had several drinks at the bar and walked out again. That we notice."
"When was the last time he was here?" I took another sip of Bollinger and a nice little buzz began to fill my head. Champagne—and most other alcohol—didn't really affect wolves to the extent that it did humans, thanks to our higher metabolic rate, but it did provide a happy little high before said metabolism kicked in.
Starke said, "I believe it was last night. He stayed an hour, then left again."
I studied him, unable to tell whether he was speaking the truth or playing a dangerous game. Either one was a possibility, given the amusement in his eyes.
"Riley," Jack said into my ear, his voice fading in and out, as if there was some sort of interference. "We need you back at the office immediate—."
The rest of his sentence was cut off, but it didn't matter because I got the gist of it. Relief slithered through me. Never before had I been so happy about being called back to the Directorate.
I finished my drink in several unladylike gulps, then grabbed my bag and rose. "I'm afraid I've just been called back to the office, so the rest of my questions will have to wait."
"What, so no hot date either?" He pushed gracefully to his feet, moving altogether too close. "It seems a shame to waste such a hot outfit."
"I've learned to live with disappointment." I gave him an insolent grin. "You should, too."
"Oh, I try not to." He caught my hand and raised it to his lips, kissing it gently. "And I don't believe you should, either."
And with that, he hit me.
Not physically, not mentally, but with the full force of his aura or mojo or whatever the hell it was.
My reaction was instinctual. I threw up my own aura, trying to use it as a shield as I had in the past. But I might as well have been using a tissue to block out the force of a gale.
And that gale was instant, burning need.
It was deep and violent and it ached. Literally ached.
He smiled and his grip on his hand tightened, forcing me backwards. Not to the chaise lounge but to the desk. I fought it, I really did, but the need was all-encompassing.
My body shook with futile anger and the ever-increasing tide of lust, but at least my thoughts—while a little scrambled—were my own. I mightn't be strong enough to fight him—and who would have thought a werewolf would ever be saying that?—but at least I wasn't a complete automaton.
Not that that made the situation any better.
My butt hit the table and his grip on my hand forced me to slide up on top of it. His free hand traced the line of my cheek, his fingers so heated against my skin it felt like a burn.
"So lovely," he murmured, his gaze following the journey of his fingers. Down my neck, past my shoulder blade, and onto the soft swell of breast. One fingertip gently grazed a nipple and I couldn't fight the arching my back—an age-old invitation for more. Part of me might be screaming in frustration and fury, but that part was a flea fighting against the might of a storm right now.
He chuckled softly and his touch moved down. One shirt button came undone, then another, until the front of the shirt was completely open.
His fingers continued their downward journey and my skin twitched and burned, pleasure and pain mingling into one. He ran his hands down my thighs, then grabbed the end of the skirt, ripping upwards, so that the split tore all the way to my crotch.
"Much better," he said, rubbing his thumbs down the inside of my thighs before gently pushing them apart. God, I was wet, so wet with the need for him that when he stepped in between my legs, I moaned. And hated the fact that I did.
"I have longed to do this in the flesh," he murmured, thereby confirming he had visited me in my dreams, and therefore was our wraith. His fingers slid back up my thighs. "Have longed wished to know what it is really like to be inside you, heated flesh in heated flesh."