He liked both aspects.
He liked her. Too much.
Luther stared into her eyes as he released her wrists, reached down between their bodies, and positioned himself. Thanks to her recent release, the head of his cock entered slick, moist heat.
His muscles bunched and his heart expanded painfully in his chest.
Her breath caught, then released on a low, shuddering moan.
And a knock sounded on the door.
Chapter 3
No fucking way. Gaby glared at Luther and ordered, “Ignore it.”
Eyes squeezed shut as if in pain, Luther cursed low and long.
Frantic need encompassed Gaby unlike anything she’d ever felt before. Even her other sexual experiences with Luther didn’t compare. Those times when he’d touched her, he was fully clothed, somehow apart from her.
But now . . . now she felt his body in places she’d never before had reason to consider.
He could not leave her like this.
Her voice sounding like a growl, she said, “Don’t even think it, Luther. Whoever it is will go away.”
The knock sounded harder, and Luther’s partner, Ann Kennedy, shouted, “Open up, Luther.”
Gaby tipped her head back and yelled toward the door, “Go away, Ann. We’re busy.”
Luther stared at her in appalled silence. What? Did he expect her to just give him up at such a crucial moment?
Ann knocked harder.
“No.” Seeing the inevitable in Luther’s eyes, Gaby shook her head. “No.”
“I’m sorry, Gaby.” His big hand smoothed along the side of her face, cupped her skull. He put his forehead to hers. “Though I’d conveniently forgotten, I’m still on duty.”
God knew she understood duty, but that didn’t mean she was appeased. It’d be a long time before she forgave him.
“This fucking sucks, Luther!” She shoved him aside and left the couch.
Luther grabbed her hand, and with his gaze flickering over her body, he swallowed hard. “You can’t open the door like that.”
A sneer formed. “I’m not opening the door at all, but it looks like you are.” Pissed off and frustrated beyond all measure, she marched naked to the stairs. She glanced back once to see Luther standing there, wrapped in the throw, watching her retreat with undivided attention to her backside. “Perv.”
“Only you would think so, Gaby.”
His gaze followed her up the steps; she felt the burn of his scrutiny, the near tactile pressure of his interest. Sexual need sucked.
She’d just reached the top of the stairway when she heard the front door open.
Ann, in her characteristic way of acceptance, said, “I gather you forgot we have a dead body to contend with.”
“Dead? So he didn’t make it?”
“Died on the way to the hospital. I got a call, and they said so far, other than an obvious loss of blood, they’re not sure what killed him.”
Hiding her nudity, Gaby peeked around the wall to yell down, “He was drained. Try checking between his toes, in the crease of his groin . . . hell, maybe behind his ear. Somewhere on his body, you’ll find a pinprick big enough for an IV.”
Ann appeared at the bottom of the steps. She looked at Gaby’s disheveled hair, and then her bare shoulder. One slim brow lifted.
For the very first time in her life, Gaby felt slight embarrassment over her physical appearance. “What?” she asked Ann. “You have something to say, just say it.”
Ann’s mouth tilted in a smile. “I’m sorry that I interrupted.”
For some reason, that infuriated Gaby even more—especially when she saw Ann’s gentle amusement. The woman was a freakin’ saint.
Ann was not only beautiful on the outside, with golden blonde hair, soft dark eyes, and a slender, womanly build, but she also possessed a gigantic heart and a temperament that reserved judgment against others—even against a freak like Gaby.
At times like this, Ann’s graciousness grated on Gaby’s nerves. “Fuck off.”
Gaby heard Ann laugh and Luther apologize seconds before she slammed the door to the spare room that she’d commandeered. Putting both hands in her hair, she stalked to a window to look out.
Rain continued to fall, but in a peaceful, cleansing way now, rather than with the turbulent rage that had so badly disarmed her.
She hated weakness of any kind—in herself. In others, she expected it.
She had superior skills, both mental and physical, that made most seem frail in comparison.
But not Luther.
Oh God. Just thinking his name set her body to throbbing with a pulse beat of hot need. Her breasts ached. Down deep inside herself, her belly burned around a churning demand for something. It wasn’t like the vague necessity for food she sometimes felt, or the need to rest. And it didn’t resemble the driving urge to protect others.
This was different, and twice as gripping.
She needed to do something to distract herself because she didn’t know how to assuage the need on her own. In this, Luther had her at his mercy.
Untenable.
Somehow, someway, she’d have to overcome this awful requirement of him.
Going to the trunk at the end of the unused bed, she opened the combination lock and removed her current work in progress. Writing graphic novels served as the only outlet for her frustrations. She needed to write and draw now more than ever.
Because the room didn’t have a desk, she arranged everything on the floor and then sat cross-legged and went to work. Downstairs she could hear Luther and Ann speaking, and then a few minutes later, she recognized Luther’s familiar tread on the stairs. He didn’t come to her room, but instead went to the room she would sleep in with him.
The room where she’d presented herself naked on his bed, only to be called away.
Fuck.
Concentrating anew, Gaby threw herself into the ink depictions of a long-toothed bloodsucker feeding off an innocent who screamed in soundless agony as her lifeblood drained away.
Heart racing, Gaby let her muse take over—until she really saw the woman she’d drawn.
This woman was different from the corpse they’d found. Darker, younger.
Shit, shit, shit. Would she be next?
Pausing, Gaby studied the drawing that her subconscious had conjured. Gaunt, fragile, eyes hollow with abuse, the dark-skinned woman looked like any of a hundred addicted transients who clogged the alleyways.
Somehow, Gaby had to find her, and save her.
Then, hand shaking, she noticed something that showed from just behind the woman’s leg.
A child.
“Gaby?” The doorknob twisted, but the lock kept Luther from entering.
Sick at heart, Gaby stood and stared down at the pages on the floor.
A young girl, not more than ten years of age.
God no. Please. Not that, not an innocent kid.
But the image remained, mocking her with the portent of what would come.
She backed up, removing herself from the harsh reality and going closer to Luther’s soothing voice.
“Gaby?” His fist struck the door in an annoyed knock. “Open up.”
Gaby rolled in her lips, breathing hard. “Yeah, hang on.” Not until her hand touched the doorknob was she able to draw her gaze from the papers. After a deep breath, she stepped to the side of the door and opened it a little. “What?”
His jaw loosened.
She hadn’t bothered with clothes yet, and he was now fully suited in a way befitting a detective. He looked nice. He smelled nice.
The way he’d touched her . . .
“Damn, Gaby.” His chest expanded. In a low, nearly reverent voice, he whispered, “You’re still naked.”
She stared at his throat and at a small bit of chest hair showing from the open collar of his shirt. His tie hung loosely around his neck, his dark blond hair was mussed. “Yeah, well I didn’t feel like getting dressed. Sue me.”