A Wicked Seduction (10 page)

“Bail recovery,” she reminded him with a half grin. Accepting the plastic bottle he held out to her, she took a generous swallow. “Cole was twenty-one when my father died, and at the time he was going to college during the day to get his degree in criminal justice and working part-time at night as a bouncer at a local dance club. Since I was a minor, Cole had to apply for guardianship, which he was granted, but he also realized he now had to support me and my brother.”

“Did he quit college?”

“Cole?” Her voice held a cynical note, underscored with reluctant pride. “No, he managed to juggle school while raising me and my brother, and holding down a
full-time job. He's the most single-minded, ambitious person I know—to the point that he has tunnel vision, never deviating from his goals, or work, or what he believes is expected of him.”

Jo could have been talking about
him.
“Hey, I know someone like that.”

“At least you're beginning to realize that there's more to life than the next project, case, or contract.” Warmth and humidity from the outside storm found its way into the truck, and Jo turned the air-conditioning on low to ward off the tropical heat. “I don't hold out the same hope for Cole. He's been programmed to be the responsible one for so long, he doesn't know how to stop and smell the flowers or, in his case, see that his own secretary is hot for him.”

Dean's brows rose in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” She shook her head in disgust at her brother's inability to take note of a woman's obvious interest in him. “Then again, the mere fact that Melodie Turner is the daughter of the man who was once my father's sergeant and best friend, and still a mentor for Cole, would make Mel off-limits to my dense brother anyway.”

A chuckle escaped from Dean. He couldn't wait to meet her brother and form his own opinion of the man, which he suspected would differ drastically from Jo's.

“Back to my story,” she said, putting the conversation on its original track. “After my father died, Cole went to work for a private investigator who was
a good friend of my dad's, mostly doing surveillance and security work and learning the ins and outs of the business while finishing up his degree. In order to earn extra money, he started picking up recovery cases from a local bondsman. And because Noah was off in the Marines, there were times when Cole had to take me along on a job during the summer months when I wasn't in school because there wasn't anyone to watch me, and he didn't want to leave me alone.” She cast him a quick glance and seemingly read the thoughts filtering through his mind. “Yeah, I know it was kinda unethical taking a minor on those runs, but as a teenager who led a sheltered life thanks to my brother's overprotectiveness, I thought it was cool.”

He heard the undeniable excitement in her voice and couldn't help the smile that formed. “And that's how you learned the business?”

She nodded, staring ahead as her headlights slashed through the heavy deluge of rain. “That was the start of it, and spending that time with Cole made me realize how much I enjoy the chase and capture, but of course I was too young at the time to actually help him in any way, not that he'd have let me get involved, even if I'd wanted to.” She took another drink of water, licked the droplets of water from her lips with her tongue, and continued. “Over the years, Cole continued picking up bail recovery jobs, and even saved up enough money to put me through college and open his own investigative company. And I have to say, after raising me for so many years, he
wasn't too thrilled when I decided I wanted to go into law enforcement, like our father.”

He munched into another cookie, wondering if she'd been out to prove something when she'd made that decision, and slipped the other half of the chocolate-covered shortbread into her mouth. “You were his baby sister and I'm sure he worried about you getting hurt.”

“Being his baby sister is just one of the many strikes against me,” she said around a mouthful of cookie, followed by a frustrated sigh. “Being female doesn't help, as well as a featherweight, as my other brother, Noah, so fondly loves to call me.”

He tipped his head, amused and curious at the same time. “‘Featherweight'?”

“Yeah, as in small, delicate, and petite,” she told him.

He took in her slender but toned stature, liking the package he saw. “From my viewpoint, it's not a bad combination.”

She gave a very unladylike snort of disagreement. “My size and gender have always put me at a disadvantage with my brothers, especially when I made the decision to become a police officer. A lot of my colleagues, and even the men I dated, didn't believe I was capable of handling the risk and rigors of the job.” Her voice trailed off and she glanced out the driver's side window, away from him and toward the Oregon mountains surrounding them. “And I suppose I proved them right,” she added in an aching whisper
that was so soft he wasn't sure the painful comment had been meant for his ears to hear.

He remained quiet, waiting for her to offer more, but her continued silence indicated that she wasn't willing to share an explanation. And when she looked back at him and he was privy to the grief and sadness in her eyes, he realized he wasn't willing to push the issue.

A slow smile chased away some of the anguish he'd witnessed. “More than you wanted to know about me, I'm sure,” she murmured.

“Not at all.” If anything, she'd only whet his interest. He saw her as a woman struggling for her own individual identity, acceptance of herself, and respect for her abilities. After learning about her turbulent childhood and her free-spirited nature being tamped, he understood why.

Yet he suspected she was hiding other secrets, too, and he wanted to uncover them all, layer by intriguing layer.

“I'd like to know a whole lot more,” he said, his voice low and deeply genuine. “Anything and everything I can learn about you, Jo Sommers.”

She laughed, her fingers idly tracing the grooves in the steering wheel. “After the conversation we just had, I don't think there's much left to learn.”

“Sure there is,” he drawled, undaunted by her attempt to curb his deliberate interest. “Like, is your real name Jo, or is it short for something else?”

Surprise lit her eyes at his uncomplicated, casual question. Obviously, she'd been expecting something
more personal. “My full name is Joelle, and my brothers shortened it to Jo when I was a baby.” She shrugged. “The nickname kinda carried on through the years.”

“Joelle,” he repeated, testing her given name on his tongue and enjoying how soft and feminine it sounded. “I like it. It's beautiful and unique, just like you, while Jo suits your determined, obstinate, and confident side.”

She grinned wryly. “Thank you, I think.”

“It was meant as a compliment, and you're welcome,” he replied, watching as she glanced down at the gauges on the control panel in front of her, which she seemed to be checking more and more often the past hour. When a slight, concerned frown marred her brows, he asked, “Is everything okay?”

“I'm not sure.” Her gaze ventured from the panel, to the rain-slicked road ahead, then back again. “For some reason, the temperature gauge is starting to run hotter than normal.”

They continued on despite her worry, but half an hour later it was obvious that something was very wrong. With the temperature needle climbing steadily into the red danger zone, and the first signs of steam rising from the front of the Suburban, there was no doubt in either of their minds that there was a problem with the engine.

They passed a sign indicating an upcoming off-ramp seemingly out in the middle of nowhere, and since Medford was still a good fifteen miles away, Jo was forced to make a split-second decision. “I'm go
ing to have to pull off this exit and get us to a gas station.”

There was no sign of life in either direction, so she took a chance and made a right turn. The unevenly paved road wound its way through dense forests of trees, broken by occasional hills and green land and pastures…and nothing else. Two miles off the interstate, the vehicle gave a huge jarring shudder, and the engine shut down, forcing Jo to coast the mechanical beast to the gravel shoulder of the road where they came to their final resting place.

She glared up at the furious, stormy sky and blew an upward stream of breath that made the loose tendrils of hair around her face flutter against her forehead. “Dammit,” she muttered, clearly annoyed at their less-than-desirable predicament. “What the hell could be wrong? Cole just had the truck serviced last month.”

“It's probably something no one could have caught ahead of time,” he said, opting for a practical excuse. “I'll go check under the hood and see what, if anything, I can find wrong.”

He reached for the door handle, ready to brave the driving rain for her, but she grabbed the sleeve of his shirt to hold him back. “I'll do it.”

The mutinous tilt to her chin didn't bode well for an argument on his end, yet he wasn't about to sit in the car while she checked the engine, no matter how good her mechanical skills might be. “A second pair of eyes can't hurt, Jo.”

She hesitated, then finally realizing that he wasn't
going to back down, she relented. “Fine.” Unlatching her lap belt, she twisted around and flattened the back seat so she could crawl to the back cargo area. Opening a side compartment, she retrieved a rag, flashlight and an umbrella, then returned to the cab. “If you insist on coming out in the deluge, then you can hold the umbrella while I'm looking under the hood so we don't get drenched.”

He rolled his eyes at the token assignment she'd given him, which left her in charge, of course. Fine, he'd cede control, trust in her abilities, and let her run this particular show her way, and not be the kind of overbearing macho male she abhorred.

It took Jo less than two minutes to discover the blown radiator hose that had led to their breakdown, while Dean did his best to shelter them from the elements of the storm. Thunder rumbled overhead, and lightning struck too close for comfort, startling them both. Since there wasn't anything they could do about the fractured hose until they were towed to a service station, they shut the hood and slipped back inside the safety of the vehicle.

Their clothes were damp, and without the air-conditioning, warmth and humidity clung in the air and to their skin. Jo retrieved her cell phone to call road service, and swore vividly when she couldn't get a signal and the digital display lit up with an “out of range” message.

“Great,” she muttered in defeat, and tucked the offending unit back into the console. “We're stranded in a storm that's going to last who knows how long,
with no way to call for help, and on a road that is all but deserted.” She exhaled a taut breath and glanced his way. “Now what do we do?”

Unfortunately, he didn't have any magical answers for her, but he was a resourceful kind of guy, and that meant grasping the opportunity to relax and enjoy the next couple of hours with each other until the weather cleared and they were able to walk ahead and find help.

Seduction and surrender beckoned, and remembering their earlier conversation about making out in a car, he reached out and trailed his fingers along her shoulder and down her bare arm. “Now that you no longer have to concentrate on driving, I'm thinking we could test out the back seat area and have a little fun until the storm passes. Just a little necking and petting and whatever else you'd like to do.” He grinned slowly, sinfully, meaningfully, but left the final decision up to her. “What do you say, Jo?”

He watched her swallow as she considered his idea and all the sensual possibilities awaiting them if she agreed to his tantalizing suggestion. He longed to indulge in the kind of pleasing, arousing recreation they'd both enjoyed back at the motel before they'd been stopped by her alarm clock and the need to get back on the road.

He saw the tension in her body from being stranded gradually fade away, replaced by desire and an undeniable excitement flaring to life in the depths of her eyes. “I'm game if you are,” she whispered, and made good on her own daring response by being the first one to climb into the back of the Suburban.

J
O SETTLED
onto her knees on the soft, flannel blanket she'd spread out in the cargo area, and waited for Dean to join her. Her gaze scanned the space, taking in her traveling gear, the cooler, and their baggage, which she'd pushed up against the sides of the truck to make more room for them in the middle. There was a good six feet of cleared space, more than enough for her to stretch out on, but it would no doubt come up a few inches short for Dean.

She caught sight of her unusable cell phone, a direct, unwanted reminder of everything that awaited her back home. Reality, and a strict, by-the-book brother who'd never trust the choice she was about to make, no matter that Dean was an innocent man.

Undoubtedly, Cole would be concerned if he tried to call and couldn't reach her, believing she was out of reach and possibly in trouble with a convicted felon. He'd worry as any sibling would, but ultimately he'd have to believe in her and her instincts and abilities, which was a difficult feat for Cole when it came to her, she knew.

But right now, at this very moment, she wanted to forget everything but this man she was highly at
tracted to. She didn't want to think about Cole or the lecture she was in store for, or how everyone questioned her judgment for the past two years, herself included. She wasn't questioning her choice with Dean anymore. She was taking back control of a part of her life she'd lost after Brian's death. Now, she wanted,
needed,
to feel alive and desirable, and Dean Colter made that possible.

Her entire body pulsed in awareness as Dean wedged his way through the opening and the earthy scent of him filled her senses. Figuring there was no point in being shy, modest, or coy, she shook off every inhibition she'd ever possessed. Sexually and physically, he thrilled and aroused her. Emotionally and personally, he seemed to understand her more than any man ever had, and that was an equal turn-on for her.

After taking off his wet shoes and socks, as she'd already done, he knelt in front of her and braced his hands on his spread thighs, which brought her attention to the blatant erection already straining the fly of his jeans. She swallowed to ease the dryness in her throat. Every bit of him was big, solid, and male, and she instinctively knew that whatever happened between them this afternoon would be like nothing she'd ever experienced before.

Dean was a man who could give her everything she craved on a purely physical level, satisfy all the pleasures she'd denied herself for years, but would make no demands on her when their time together came to an end in a few days. They lived in separate
states, led very different lives. Neither one of them was looking for a commitment or strings and she felt selfish enough to take this encounter to the extreme because no man had ever made her feel or want so much. After spending the past two years trying to prove her self-worth and focusing on her abduction cases, she was going to put her needs first and please herself for a change.

And being with Dean pleased her greatly.

Reaching out, she spread her hand on his chest, absorbing his rapid heartbeat and the scorching heat of him through the rain-dampened cotton of his T-shirt. She trailed a finger over a rigid nipple and his eyes darkened with fiery hunger.

Her heart skipped an exciting beat. The fury of the storm continued to pelt the vehicle with loud droplets, creating a lush, provocative staccato that heightened the sensuality between them. The shelter of the tall trees around the car, coupled with the gray skies above and the steady moisture drizzling down all the windows, added to the eroticism of their encounter. It also cocooned them from the outside forces and any prying eyes that might happen upon them.

She cast him a slow smile. “It's definitely cramped back here,” she said, referring to their earlier conversation and all the interesting positions two people could manage in tight spaces.

He blinked lazily, which did nothing to bank the gold hue of desire flaring in the depths of his eyes. “We'll be creative and make it work any way we have to.”

Gazes locked, her fingers skimmed their way down to his lean, flat abdomen, which flexed at her touch. “And it's warm and humid inside the truck, too.” Her voice was low and breathy.

“Makes for better friction when it comes to skin-on-skin contact.” His palms remained planted on his thighs, but his words and the deep timbre of his voice were as erotic as a caress. “Take the elastic band from your ponytail for me, Jo. I want your hair down.”

Unable to refuse him anything, she did as he requested and rolled the band off and let her hair fall free about her shoulders. Leaning forward, he plowed all ten fingers through the damp strands and pulled her face toward his.

Her eyelids fluttered closed and her lips parted seconds before his mouth claimed hers in a hot, open-mouthed kiss. A soft moan escaped her as she welcomed the silky invasion of his tongue and appreciated the enticing taste of scrumptious shortbread cookies and masculine possession. He took her deeper and deeper into the kiss—ravishing her mouth with his lips and teeth, mating their tongues, stealing her very breath—until all coherent thought fled her mind.

“Your shirt,” she panted against his soft, damp lips as she tugged the material from the waistband of his jeans. “I want it off.”

In one fluid motion he gripped the hem, pulled it over his head, and tossed the shirt aside. “Better?”

“Oh, much.” She placed her hands on his well-
defined chest, not at all surprised when her own breasts swelled at the contact. She stroked his smooth skin and firm muscle, and leaned close to scatter warm, moist kisses along his jaw, run the tip of her tongue down his neck, and suck the pulsing skin at the base of his throat.

His entire body shuddered, and he gathered her hair in his fists as her lips coasted over his chest and she tasted the salt on his skin and inhaled the intoxicating scent of aroused male. She deliberately grazed her teeth across his erect nipples and heard him draw in a swift breath, felt the tiny nub of flesh harden even more against her curled tongue.

Before she could continue her journey downward, he urged her with his hands to sit back up. Breathing hard, they stared at each other as a clap of thunder shook the vehicle with the sheer force of the loud boom that reverberated across the Oregon sky. A torrent of rain followed, and he fused their mouths yet again as he shifted his body and eased her down onto the blanket. He stretched out beside her and hooked his knee across her legs to accommodate the length of his frame in the small space.

He slowed their kisses, and in his own good time unfastened the first button on her blouse, then another, and yet another, making her restless with his slow, drawn-out movements—making her dizzy with the anticipation of experiencing his sweeping caress on her exposed flesh. Once done, he pulled the ends of her opened blouse from her jeans, and she shivered when his mouth glided across the full swells of her
bra-encased breasts. He continued to nibble his way to the straining peak, and once he reached his destination he tongued the distended nipple pressing against textured lace.

A sense of urgency gripped her, and she nearly fainted with relief when he unclasped the front of her bra and
finally
released her breasts. Letting the cups fall to her sides, he strummed his long fingers over the aching crests, which were excruciatingly stiff from his teasing ministrations, and damp from his wet mouth and the humidity in the truck from the rain outside and the combined body heat inside. Even the windows were fogged from their heavy breathing.

Their eyes met and locked, his dark, smoky gaze heavy-lidded with desire and glittering with something far more primal. He swirled his thumb around a sensitive, still-slick aureole, using the feverish warmth and dampness from her skin to increase the friction against her nipple and heighten the pure, sensual pleasure of his touch.

He grinned knowingly, and a devilish light entered his gaze. “Kinda hot and steamy in here, don't you think?”

“As you can feel for yourself, I'm burning up.” She was on fire, and she had a feeling it was going to get a whole lot hotter before they were through.

“Yeah, you are,” he agreed huskily as his gaze took in the flush on her skin. “Let's see what we can do about lowering your temperature a little bit.”

Pulling the small cooler closer, he flipped it open and rummaged through the chilled drinks. Instead of
retrieving a canned soda as she'd expected, he instead slipped a large ice cube into his mouth, then closed his chilled, wet hand over her swollen breast. She sucked in a startled breath as new and unfamiliar sensations rippled through her, at once shocking and thrilling. Before she could push his freezing touch away, he dipped his head and lapped his cold, velvet-soft tongue up the side of her neck, then captured her mouth with his frosty lips.

He swallowed her sultry moan, unfurled his tongue, and let the melting ice cube slide into her mouth. Then he initiated a sensual game of hide and seek with the frozen chip, chasing the piece of ice with their tongues until both their mouths had shared all of its refreshing coolness, then warmed up together again.

The kiss went on, and her tenuous restraint spiraled and splintered, unleashing assertive, wanton urges. Needing to touch him, she let her hands drift everywhere, from his shoulders, to his arms, to his chest, belly and hips, where she encountered the frustrating barrier of his jeans.

He broke their kiss with a harsh groan and inhaled deeply to regain his breath. “Behave yourself,” he said, staring down at her with a mock scowl.

She rolled her eyes, completely unfazed by his attempt to intimidate her. “Why do
you
get to have all the fun?”

He tipped his head and quirked a brow. “You mean to tell me you're not having fun?”

A slow smile curved her lips. “I just don't think
the scales are evenly tipped, what with you having the upper hand in all this.” And she intended to tip them more in her favor.

As she talked, she skimmed her flattened palm along his thigh and came to a stop against the enormous erection nearly bursting the front placket of his jeans. He pulsed with vibrant life against her curved fingers, and a tiny thrill coursed through her that she held such power in her hands, and that she wasn't the only one aroused so intensely. Smiling wickedly, she stroked him in slow, measured strokes. He grew thicker, longer, and hard as granite, and all she could think about was taking all that aggressive male heat into her bare palm, tasting him with her tongue, and being filled like she'd never been filled before.

Intoxicated by the decadent thought, she acted on pure impulse. But the moment her fingers fumbled with his belt buckle to follow through on her personal fantasy, he grasped her wrists and diverted her plans. He kissed her long and hard and deep while pushing her blouse and bra up and over her head. She lifted her arms to help him remove the garments, only to find her hands tangled in the clothing and her arms stretched and anchored firmly above her head by his hold on the twisted material.

She gave an experimental tug, but her hands remained secured and immobile. “I'm beginning to think you favor a certain erotic fixation.”

“You mean making you a slave to my whims?” he guessed, staring at her lush breasts and jutting nipples.

Would he ever take her into his mouth, or would he make her beg for that intimate caress? She was close to doing just that. “Otherwise known as bondage.”

He feathered his fingers along her side and down to the indentation of her waist, making her shiver from head to toe. “Do you like being tied up like this?”

Her body's eager response wouldn't let her lie. “Yes, but I'd like to touch you more.”

He shook his head, found her hand in the folds of her blouse, and laced their fingers tightly together. “If you touch me again like you just did, I'm certain that would be the end of my control.”

At least one of them would finally have the luxury of releasing some of the agonizing sexual tension building between them. “And that's a bad thing?”

His thumb swept over the rapid pulsepoint in her wrist, which matched the steady, insistent throb between her thighs. “Yeah, it would be, especially when I want to make sure you're good and well pleased before I let myself go.”

She batted her lashes playfully at him, teasing and taunting his restraint. “My, aren't you the gentleman.”

“If that's what you'd like to think.” He grinned wolfishly, his eyes blazing with a dark, dangerous kind of edge that made her blood quicken in her veins. “Truth be told, it's pure selfishness on my part, because I want to watch you enjoy yourself. And knowing that you're all tied up and a captive to my
will turns me on even more. Doesn't all this excite you, even a little bit?”

“What do you think?” she returned impudently.

“I have my suspicions, but I think I need to be absolutely sure.” Still holding on to her wrists with one hand, he reached into the cooler again, digging deep into the ice and lingering for long seconds before bringing a large piece of ice to his mouth. This time he crunched the cube into tiny slivers, then dipped his head and took her nipple into his chilled mouth. With his fingers, he pushed her breast up to his lips, taking as much of her as he could at one time, consuming and devouring her with hard, suctioning swirls of his icy tongue across her nipple.

Wild sensation careened through her and spiraled right to the very core of her femininity. She curled her fingers around his and opened her mouth to scream at the staggering contrast of his freezing mouth ravishing her searing flesh, but only a soft mewling sound managed to emerge. He insisted on giving both breasts equal treatment, until she was excruciatingly aroused and a carnal stroke away from climaxing.

She heard him dig into the ice again and moaned, now knowing what to expect. Yet she still inhaled sharply when his dripping wet, frosty-cold fingers touched down on her stomach and traced a languid path over her navel to the waistband of her jeans.