Immortal Distraction (4 page)

She took her time looking at the art exhibits. She cared little for it, but it gave her an excuse to avoid the crowds of people in the main ballroom. In truth, it was just him. She was avoiding him. She wasn’t alone by any means in the small side gallery, but it was at least quieter without the throngs of dancing couples.

Brit was already in a bad mood thanks to an unwelcome call from her mother begging for money she claimed was for groceries. Fat chance. More than likely, money for drugs. Must be a slow month selling her body for money. How a fifty-year-old woman still hadn’t figured out turning tricks for a living wasn’t the best way to spend your life was beyond Brit’s comprehension. But then she also couldn’t understand how her father hadn’t figured out until after he’d been arrested for dealing drugs that, perhaps, he’d taken the wrong path in life too. Thirty years in state penitentiary for that one, and he still blamed the cops as though they’d forced him to sell crack to teenagers on the street. Was Brit maybe a bit bitter? Maybe, just maybe.

Every time she picked up the phone and heard her mother’s drugged and lazy voice, she cringed. It’s not that she didn’t feel bad for them. How could she not? But her life had suffered for it, and she resented them. Being the poor girl who fought to make it to school most days growing up was hard. Being the one who was held back in junior high because of it was humiliating. And when the kids started taunting and bullying her after finding out her mother hooked for a living, she was ready to throw in the towel. But throwing in the towel was what her parents did, not Brit. So she fought. But fighting aside, they still had the ability to ruin her day.

So, her afternoon was spent running money to her mother, also known as enabling, in Franklin Park rather than getting ready for the damn fundraiser, which naturally meant she looked atrocious. She really didn’t give a shit … until he showed up.

Brit paused at one particular piece of art that depicted a warm spring landscape with muted flowers. She stared and let her mind float away to the warmth. She could nearly feel the heat of the sun on her skin, smell the flowers as they gently blew in the wind. She wanted to be there. Not Boston on a cold winter night. She was as tired as ever, no closer to finding her verge on the DeMarco case, and the very reminder of just how far off the mark she was on this damn case was sauntering about taunting her in the next room. As she felt a soft touch caress the back of her arm, she nearly melted into it, craving the touch. The taunt was definitely not in the next room. Snapping to attention in just the nick of time, she pulled her body forward.

“I should arrest you,” she muttered as she turned to him.

“For what, dear Brit? Hitting on you? Can’t possibly be a crime yet.” His words were as warm and seductive as they had been in her previous encounters with him, and as she listened, she could see herself submitting to him in her mind and hear herself moaning in ecstasy because of it. He was right; she did need it. Two years was entirely too long.

“What is it you do for a living, Mr. Scott, that you have so much time on your hands to fuck with the likes of me just for fun?”

He smiled at her, but it was an amused smile. “I’m an investor.”

“I see. So you have money and you throw it around for fun. Is that about it? No brains, really, but at least you’ve got your money to waste. I can see why you’re so damn bored.” She could tell by the sudden tightness in his jaw that she’d hit a nerve of some sort, and it was exceptionally satisfying. But as quickly as she’d turned the tables, he turned them right back.

“On the contrary, I’m quite intelligent, and I invest likewise. It’s why I have money to throw around. But thank you so much for reducing my life to something so very abhorrent as being wealthy. I came from money, Brit, and I walked away from every last penny of it. Now, how about you stick to hating me for the right reasons.”

“I don’t hate you. I’m just not interested in you. It’s never going to happen, so you should really just give it up.” She turned her back on him and returned to staring at the picture.

He hummed seductively before speaking. “Never suggests forever.” His breath touched her earlobe as he leaned to her body without touching her from behind. The breath that touched her skin left radiating electricity pulsing through her body. She held her arms tensely folded across her chest, but she could feel her nipples hardening under the tight hold she had on herself. When his breath moved to the nape of her neck, he continued his statement. “And forever is a long time.” He nipped a quick kiss at the base of her neck before she could stop him, and she turned her head to her opposite shoulder to glare. When he moved to meet her ear that she’d conveniently turned to him, he finished his riddling comment. “Far too long to suggest never.”

His nose brushed her cheek as she froze in place. She swallowed hard over the lump in her throat, and when she did, his mouth moved closer to her ear, and he caressed along the outside rim with his lips. The touch was so feather light, and coupled with his breath against her skin, she shivered and trembled where she stood. She needed to move away from him, but she didn’t. Instead, she froze in place waiting for his next touch, wanting his next touch, craving it so much she could hear herself begging for it in her mind.

When she felt his hand grip the side of her waist and his body close in behind her, her mouth dropped open. When she felt his large, turgid arousal pressed against her lower back, she gasped. Wetness flooded her center, and he inhaled deeply from behind her. She couldn’t allow this to happen, regardless of how much she may want it to. And stepping forward and rounding toward him, Brit threw her elbow into his jaw with the crack of her bone sounding loudly against his. His body remained oddly still given the force she’d thrown into the move, and as she took another defensive step back from him, she watched, ready to defend herself. But he didn’t fight back. Instead, he rubbed his jaw with the same seductive smirk pulling his lips while he clicked his tongue and slowly shook his head from side to side.

“Impressive.” He dropped his hand from his jaw. “We’re two peas in a pod, you and I. I wonder which of us will give in first. I want to fuck you, Brit, and I damn well know you want to fuck me too.”

When he turned and started moving casually away from her, she stopped him. “You’re fucking with me to interfere with my case. I want to know why?” She waited, fighting hard to maintain a controlled expression.

“Wouldn’t you prefer to just fuck and stop worrying about the why? I sure as hell would.” And then he winked before he sauntered away from her. He was in no hurry, and she watched as he retreated from the room never once looking back at her. But she followed—the whole while she was devising her speech. The speech that would put him in his place. One moment the words were there; they were strong, powerful, but then the next minute, they slipped away, and she grasped at some way to verbally kick his ass.

She hung back and trailed him, watching as he spoke to the couple from the lobby of his building. The woman smirked and gave him a good-natured, exasperated look as he spoke. They appeared to be good friends and for some reason it struck her as odd. He seemed … normal. The man who was so effective at toying with her and pushing her every last button in a way no other could was … normal. Angus quickly pecked the woman on the cheek, clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder, and then moved away.

When Brit caught up to him again, she was approaching from behind. She could have sworn he hadn’t seen her, but the moment she was in arms length of his body, he rounded on her. “Why are you following me?” He startled her as he spoke loudly, feigning exasperation with her. But he was chuckling the moment he finished speaking.

Brit was convinced he knew more than he had thus far been willing to share, and she was fuming that he was dangling it like a carrot in front of her nose. She couldn’t force him to tell her anything he wasn’t willing to share, but she wasn’t going to let up so easy either. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to let him run her off and hide from his inappropriate behavior toward her. She had no hope of finding out anything from this man if she wasn’t willing to tolerate his antics.

“I’ll take that dance now.” Her voice was strong as she spoke the words, but she felt anything but on the inside. She was trying to keep the expression from her face. He smirked before reaching for her hand and pulling her after him. She allowed it, still trying to decide what she was going to say—just how she was going to regain control of this man.

When they were amidst the slow-moving group of well-dressed Bostonians, he gripped her waist with his large masculine hand. He pushed her body around the floor as the slow orchestral piece moved the couples along. His gaze held hers, and she got lost in it. The blue of his eyes was so incredibly bright and clear, and against his pale skin and dark hair, the contrast left him looking unearthly. She licked her lips before speaking and he glanced to her tongue as it passed over her lips. “I’m going to find Driscoll with or without your help. I can’t understand why you would try to stand in my way, but I assure you, you won’t stop me.” She thanked God her voice sounded strong and clear.

“Well I intend to try.” She was shocked at his words for a moment, but then … should she be? He’d been trying to interfere and distract her from the moment she’d met him. Why should his overt admission that he intended to try to stop her from finding her suspect surprise her?

“Why?”

“I have my reasons. I’m sorry.” And he looked it. His smirk was gone, and his expression was serious and solemn. “I wish we could be on the same team. I really do. But we’re not.”

“Do you know where he is?” There was no doubt in her mind he wouldn’t tell her, but if he admitted he did know where the man was and then refused to tell her, she could pull him in for questioning with little more justification than that.

But he wasn’t taking the bait. “Hmmm. Where are you hiding the cuffs, Brit?”

She cut him off quickly. “It’s Detective.”

“Yes, Brit, I know you’re a detective. So, what’s the answer that will keep those cuffs off me? Let’s see… No. I have no idea where he is.” He nodded rather than shook his head as he spoke, and his smirk had returned. When he suddenly pulled Brit’s body snug to his, she gripped his biceps through his tux jacket to keep her balance and to keep herself from melting into his body. His muscles rippled beneath the fabric.

His rather generously proportioned cock was still hard and straining against the front of his pants, and given the smoldering look in his eyes, he was intent on making sure she felt it. There was no missing it of course, and as her body betrayed her once again and flushed with need and desire for the man who had effectively made himself her enemy, she cursed herself. But she didn’t pull away. His jaw clenched, his nostrils flared, and he inhaled deeply as he held their bodies snug to one another. It escaped her attention completely for some time that they had stopped moving and were standing still in the crowd of bodies that continued their slow waltz around the dance floor.

His gaze remained on her, and they simply stared at one another. His smirk was once again gone. He was quite effective at being intimidating when he wanted to be. In fact, he had the composure Brit wished she had. But his focus eventually drifted down to her breasts, which were held snug between them, and she could feel his erection flex and twitch as he blatantly studied her body. When his gaze moved back up, they stalled at her lips, and he spoke. His composure was lost for a moment as his voice came out in a rasp that set her skin on fire. “God, I want to taste your lips.” And then he licked his lips as if trying to imagine it.

She stared for a moment longer before finding her strength once more and turning from him as she walked away. Her body missed the touch instantly. His touch had been cool, and yet, her body was warm against his, and she felt cold the moment she moved away from him. When she glanced back once, he was watching her. Unfortunately, she was not watching where she was going, and the moment she turned back around, she careened into a pompous-looking old man holding two glasses of champagne in his hands. The wine spilled down both their fronts, soaking the satin fabric that covered her breast. “I’m sorry.” She was trying to sound apologetic, but she was embarrassed and that tended to make her sound angry in defense.

He showed his pomposity by loudly sharing his disdain with anyone within earshot to hear. “Watch where you’re going, girl! If you’d been paying attention, maybe…”

Brit opened her mouth to snap back at the man, but before the words came out, he was there. “She said she was sorry. Now how about you accept her nice apology and move along?” He was standing just behind her body to the left of her shoulder, and his hand was on the small of her back. Enemy or no, she felt suddenly secure and strong again. She also wanted to pummel him for his chivalry. It had no place in Brit’s life … even if it left a flush on her skin.

When he linked her elbow with his and started walking, she didn’t pull away. Her brain was screaming at her to escape his touch, but she held her stride, which happened to be keeping pace with his. They exited to one of the many old stone walkways of the historic building, and he pushed her to the wall, closing the space between their bodies in an instant. His arousal was hard and grinding against her pelvis as she gaped up to his beautiful face. Her warmth was burning through her body, and though she had no business allowing his touch, she wanted more; she wanted all of him.

His eyes looked as desperate as she felt, and he kept her pinned to the wall with one strong hand to her hip as his other forearm pinned her chest in place. His hand dipped down and his fingers roughly pushed past the wet fabric of her dress that covered and clung sticky to her breast with the spilled champagne. His cool fingers passed over her already hard and erect nipple, pulling up to free her breast from her dress.

When he dropped his forearm from her chest, he moved his hand down to grip her arm, pinning it to the wall as his mouth sank to her breast. He pulled her nipple harshly into his mouth as she cried out, clapping her free hand over her mouth. Her eyes were darting around in a near panic, but they were alone in the dim corridor, and though she could easily put a knee in his groin from her position, she was failing to do anything but focus on the sensations shooting through her body. He was sucking, licking, laving the champagne from her skin. His mouth worked on her skin as wetness seeped from between her legs. She felt weak as though her knees might give out as any moment, but she held still, gasping for breath and wondering if perhaps she may end up coming with nothing more than his tongue on her breast.