Lori Foster - Dash of Peril

Unsure of him, Margo pushed the door opened to the office. “Got to you how?”

He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “It turned me on. I had to fight off a boner.”

No way. She pushed him back. “You were afraid for me.”

With a shrug, he said, “I’d have felt the same about Logan or Reese. Crazy people do crazy things, and there’s no controlling that regardless of how badass you might be, so don’t crucify me for caring.”

Caring. Did he?

Teasing her, he said, “So yeah, I was worried. And turned on. And I fucking can’t wait to get you alone.” His hand dipped down to her hip. “You want to know what I’ll do to you?”

How did he always manage to keep her off balance? Margo slowed her step, swallowed, licked her lips. “Yes.”

His gaze burning, Dash stared down at her. “I’ll give you a few clues in the car on the ride home.”

That was all the incentive she needed to take care of the paperwork in record time. Within fifteen minutes they were on the road in a sporty little Ford Escort. Her heart thumped heavily, her thighs quivered and tingling heat swirled low in her belly. Arousal. With Dash, it happened so easily, so overwhelmingly, that she stayed in a damned fog.

Dash kept his attention on the road—and one hand on her knee.

She was just about to moan in frustration when he said, so very calmly, “I want you to part your legs for me...and then leave them that way.”

CANNON STOOD IN the waiting room facing a window, watching the people come and go from the hospital. Only minutes ago a woman and her husband had left the room, ready for a tearful visit with a relative.

He relished the moment alone to think. Hitting a heavy bag would have been nice. Or a long jog.

Or prolonged, sweaty sex.

But at the moment, he had no way to work off the tension.

What would he do about Tipton and Yvette?

He had enough friends in the neighborhood that he’d already called in reinforcements. As long as Yvette and Tipton stayed indoors, or told him if or when they had to go out, he could ensure someone kept an eye on them.

He figured for at least a few days they’d be home, locked in and safe. But after that?

Sometimes it sucked that he couldn’t be everywhere at once.

For such a long time he’d felt territorial about his neighborhood. He especially felt protective of those who lived there.

And for a girl like Yvette, someone so close to his sister’s age—

“Cannon?”

With his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, he braced himself and turned to face her. She looked so damned small, so defenseless. Her dark, freshly washed hair hung in long wet hanks over her shoulders. The ghastly makeup had been removed, but her cheeks were still blotchy, her eyes swollen and red-rimmed from crying. She looked painfully young.

Young, innocent, scared...and full of hero worship.

Shit. He drew a breath and tried to relax, but for some reason that proved impossible. He felt strung tight in ways he definitely shouldn’t.

The stench of kerosene was gone, along with her ruined clothes. She wore a pair of scrubs...and no bra.

He shouldn’t have noticed that, but damn it, he did. The girl had an impossible-to-ignore body. “How’s Tipton?”

“The nurse said he’ll be okay.” She bit her lush bottom lip to still the fine trembling, drew a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I should be able to take him home in a few hours.”

Though she tried to hide it, her nervousness over that prospect was plain to see. She probably felt safer at the hospital around so many people. “Come here, Yvette.”

Hugging her arms under her breasts, she slunk in.

It used to amuse him how she’d strut her stuff, slim hips swaying, firm breasts thrust forward as she tested the boundaries of her sex appeal.

Now she looked utterly cowed and it bothered him. A lot.

He waited for her to choose a seat, her eyes averted, her hands twisted together. Once she did, perching on the edge as if she might bolt at any minute, he sat next to her—nearby but not too close. “You won’t be alone, you know. One of Reese’s guys will make sure you get home okay. The locks on your doors and windows are good, right?”

“Grandpa says they are.”

“Tipton would know. He won’t take chances with you.” But Tipton was hardly in any shape to console, much less protect her. Cannon bent to see her face behind the fall of her damp hair—and committed himself. “I’m going to make sure someone keeps an eye on things.”

That had her big green eyes wide on his face. “Someone?”

“Me, when I can. Friends that I trust when I’m not available.”

Dropping her gaze again, she fretted. Cannon took her hand, and was surprised at how she gripped him, her hold tight, desperate.

Screw it. He moved closer still and put an arm around her narrow shoulders as he told her what he had planned. “Forget their threats, okay? They won’t get to you again.”

She didn’t answer—maybe because she didn’t believe him.

“You’re safe inside. But I’ll need you or Tipton to always let me know when you go out.” To ensure she understood, he put his fingers under her chin and lifted her face.

When she looked up at him, it hit him like a punch. Her lips were soft and pink, her eyes once again liquid. Her breath low and fast.

Get a grip, Cannon. “Do you understand, Yvette?”

She swallowed, nodded. “Grandpa said we won’t be able to open the shop for a while.”

Relieved to hear that, Cannon put his hands back on safer ground. Like her elbow. “I’ll talk to Tipton, too, but don’t worry about the shop right now. I’ll go over and get it cleaned up. Okay?”

“You...what?”

Yeah, he could understand her confusion. He knew her grandpa, but they weren’t related, weren’t all that close really. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll round up some friends and we’ll clean it up. It won’t take long. Then when Tipton is ready, he can go back.”

Her attention went from his eyes to his mouth. He stilled, on the alert...until more tears welled up and that damp bottom lip started to quiver again. “You are so nice.”

Her soft voice unnerved Cannon. “Friends help friends,” he told her gently, and he hoped she accepted that.

Her face flushed and she looked down at her hands. “You mean my grandpa.”

Without intending to, he smoothed back her hair. “We’re friends, too.”

“No,” she said in a tiny voice that crumpled at the end. “You don’t even like me.”

The last was said almost as a sob, ripping at his heart. If she hadn’t spent so much time flirting with him, he’d...what? Hold her closer? Touch her more? Cannon shook his head and tried to think of her as his little sister.

Right.

“Don’t be silly,” he whispered, his voice gruff. “I like you fine.”

“I’m sorry.” She sniffled. “I know I should stop crying like a baby—”

“You’re upset. Anyone would be.” He sat back from her a little. “But I don’t want you to worry. Reese said he’s going to have cops patrol the area for a while, and my friends and I will keep a watch on things, too. You’ll be protected.”

She nodded, but covered her face. “Nothing is ever going to be the same again.”

Lost, Cannon gave in, pulling her into his lap and cradling her against his chest, rocking her a little. She leaned into him, saying over and over, “I’m so sorry.”

He felt her rounded bottom on his thighs, her breasts against his chest.

He felt himself sinking.

Hugging her closer, he lied and said, “No problem.” It was a big problem—but somehow he’d deal with it.

Determined, he kissed her temple, smoothed her hair. Somehow he would make everything okay. It wouldn’t be easy, but few things in life ever were.

THE SLOW, ALMOST RESISTANT way Margo moved her knees apart fired Dash’s blood.

“A little more,” he insisted softly.

Staring straight ahead out the windshield, she bit her bottom lip—and pressed her knees farther apart. “This is silly.”

“You with your legs open for me?” He stroked her slender thigh, feeling the muscles taut with expectation. “That’s as sexy as it gets.”

“You can’t do anything in the car while driving.”

“I can get you primed.” And himself, as well.

She stilled, then admitted, “I already am.” She glanced at him, her eyes dark and mysterious and heated from within. “It seems that with you, I always am.”

Progress. Soon she’d realize that she needed him, only him. “I’m glad. I like seeing you like this. Open to me. Ready.” He skimmed his fingertips up the inside of her thigh, but didn’t touch her between her legs. Not yet. “You are ready, aren’t you? Tell me you’re wet.”

Embarrassment heated her face, but she gave one faint nod.

With the backs of his fingers, Dash touched her warmed cheek. “Remember something, honey. When you’re with me like this, you’re not a lieutenant. You’re not the boss. And you’re definitely not holding the reins.”

She trembled...with excitement.

Pushing her, Dash whispered, “I know what you need, and I know when you need it.”

Being in control was important to her. Dash knew it, and that was the main reason he wanted her to trust him to do what was best for her. He wanted her to let go completely.

With sex, with him, it was the only time she’d ever let that happen.

She shifted slightly. “What if someone sees us?”

“What if they do? You’re a woman enjoying the touch of a man.”