Cara’s fingers tightened around him as desire began to heat her blood.
“Not enough.” His lips were just above hers. “I need another taste…”
And she wanted more.
When his lips met hers again, her mouth was open. Ready. The kiss wasn’t as soft this time, and she was glad. She could taste the hunger on his lips, his tongue. A hunger that matched her own.
There was no questing search as his tongue slipped past her lips. Just need. Demand.
A moan trembled in the back of her throat even as her mouth widened for him. Her tongue met his, licking, stroking. Her nipples began to ache and swell as the fire blazing inside of her grew.
She knew she shouldn’t be doing this, but Cara couldn’t stop. The cop was the wrong man for her. The situation was wrong.
But the need felt so right.
Power began to fill the air as his lust grew. Such sweet, tempting power. She could feel it, surrounding her. She could have that power. All of it.
She just had to take it.
Take him.
No. She’d sworn to fight that part of her life.
Cara pulled away from him, twisting her head to the side. “I—we have to stop.”
His breath was ragged. So was hers. Cara realized she still held his hand. Instead of a punishing grip, her fingers caressed his flesh. She snatched her hand away from him.
“Easy.” He didn’t retreat and he kept his stare on her. “It was just a kiss.”
That was how the sweetest temptation always started. With a soft kiss.
He was aroused. No denying the obvious. It was in his voice, and if she glanced down, she knew she’d see the outline of his swollen cock.
But she was aroused, too. The feel of his lips and tongue against hers had stroked the dark hungers within her, and the feel of his power in the air…
Resisting was the hardest thing she’d ever done.
Her chin lifted. She’d started a new life. Or she was trying to, anyway. Lusting after the detective, well, that hadn’t been part of her finely crafted plans. “I can’t do this,” she told him, but couldn’t help wishing that she could.
He smiled at her then, and with the streetlight drifting into the car, she could see the wink of his dimple. “Seems to me like you can, baby. You were doing one hell of a fine job just a minute ago.”
Her chin rose another notch. “What I meant was that I won’t do this.” She reached for the door handle. Second time is the charm. She managed to shove open the passenger side door. Her body twisted, her feet touched the pavement and—
“You want me as much as I want you.”
He had her there.
“Circumstances are shit now, no denying that.”
She looked back at him.
“But I’m not just gonna walk away from you. Hell, even if you weren’t hip deep in this mess, I couldn’t walk away from you.” His eyes blazed with intensity.
Cara stood, rising quickly from the car. The chilly air bit into her arms as she left the warmth of the Vette. “You don’t have to walk away from me,” she said, her voice clear. “I’ll walk away from you.” Then she took one step, another. Her back was ramrod straight, her head up. She left him like that, not looking back, even though her body ached for him.
“Running, Cara?”
His taunt didn’t stop her. Damn it, but she could still taste him. She pushed open her gate—the one she’d never bothered to keep locked—and she took careful steps up the curving path until she finally reached her front door. It was only when she crossed the threshold of her house that Cara drew in a deep, clear breath.
And admitted to herself that, hell, yeah, she’d been running.
Because Todd Brooks scared her. Oh, he didn’t scare the demon inside her. The demon could handle just about anything.
No, the demon wasn’t particularly worried, but the woman was scared spitless.
Moments later, she heard the growl of his car pulling away. Her shoulders dropped as relief swept through her.
Safe.
For now.
Detective Brooks had finally called it a night, but she knew he’d be back.
Sooner or later.
The faint light of dawn snuck through her blinds just as Cara finally crawled into bed.
Her gritty eyes closed, shutting out the light. The bed was soft beneath her, the sheets faintly cool.
Sleep pushed down on her as exhaustion swept through her body. One deep breath, two, and the dreams claimed her.
The dreams…
She didn’t know the apartment. Didn’t recognize any of the furniture. Cara walked slowly across the floor, her bare feet soundless as they crept over the hardwood.
Where was she? She thought of calling out, but fear stilled her tongue.
Dream or reality? The question bored into her mind as she ventured forward. Succubi always had such strong, vivid dreams. Sometimes it was nearly impossible to tell the dream world from the real one.
A door waited in front of her. Wooden, painted white. Partially open.
Her hand lifted. Pressed lightly against the wood and sent the door swinging inward with a soft creak.
A man’s room. The furniture was dark, heavy. Clothes—a shirt, pants, socks—were tossed haphazardly onto the floor. A king-size bed with rumpled covers waited in the middle of the room. An occupied bed.
Cara took a step toward the bed, then another, her movements almost helpless. She knew who would be in that bed, of course. There really wasn’t any doubt in her mind.
She could smell him.
She’d thought of him before her eyes closed. Still tasted him on her lips.
His dark hair was a sharp contrast to the white pillowcase. His eyes were closed, his features softened in sleep.
Todd Brooks.
Dream or reality?
The floor creaked beneath her feet.
His eyes flew open. Locked on her.
“Cara?”
Too late, she realized what was happening. But it had been such a long time since she’d taken a walk in dreams.
He grabbed her arm, pulled her toward him and had her tumbling into the bed. “You’re not real,” he muttered. “Damn it, I know you can’t be, but I’ll take what I can get.” Then his mouth was on hers. Hard. Hot. His tongue thrust deep and a growl rumbled in the back of his throat.
His arms wrapped around her, holding her tight. His chest was bare, the muscles strong and warm against her. She wore a thin nightgown, just like the one she’d jerked on before stumbling into bed.
Her nipples pebbled, aching, and the stiff points pushed against the soft silk of her gown.
She straddled him. The bedsheets covered his hips, but she could feel his arousal nudging against her core.
The man was most definitely aroused.
No. No. This shouldn’t be happening. She had to stop, she—
His fingers eased under the spaghetti straps of her gown. His callused hands felt so good as they eased over the length of her arms, pushing down the gown and baring her breasts.
He tore his mouth from hers. Eased back so that he could get a better view of her. “God, baby, you’re the best dream I’ve ever had.”
The man had no idea.
She could feel the spark of magic in the air as his lust grew. His hunger swirled around her in waves of pulsing need. Her skin began to tingle with the promise of such pleasure.
And such dark power. Hers to take.
The strength it would give her…
But she shouldn’t. Cara shook her head, fighting for her own control as arousal had her sex moistening and her back arching in silent demand. No, this was wrong, she—
His lips closed over her breast. Pulled the mound deep into his mouth. Sucked.
Cara shuddered as her fingers dug into his arms. His teeth pressed against her, lightly scoring her flesh, and then he was licking her, long, hungry swipes of his tongue that had her moaning and twisting against him as she fought for more, more.