Hotter After Midnight (17 page)

His head lowered, and she felt his warm breath against her sex.

Every muscle in her body quivered in anticipation.
She wanted his mouth on her. Wanted to feel that clever, rough tongue
.

His tongue licked her labia. A slow, wet lick that had her arching off the bed, her high heels digging into the mattress.

He growled at her movement, and the rumble of vibration shot straight to her core.

Her thighs tightened around his shoulders. Her fingers were in his hair, urging him closer.

Another slow swipe of his tongue, then he licked her clit. Then again, harder.

“C-Colin…” A second orgasm was close. Her body was fighting, struggling to come again.

His tongue stabbed deep into her sex and his fingers pushed against her clit.

Her hips bucked against him.

The orgasm was coming, oh God, she was—

“Not yet, baby, not yet.” He pulled back, and the hiss of his zipper filled the air. “Not without me this time.”

Something ripped in the darkness. Plastic.
Condom wrapper.
The shifter had come prepared.

Then his hands were on her again. Opening the folds of her sex, and she felt the broad, hard tip of his cock against her.

Too late, a shiver of apprehension swept through her.

“Colin, I—”

His hands were on her shoulders. His fingers sliding under the straps of her dress.

“I fantasized about you all through dinner,” he whispered.

And she’d been fantasizing about him since last night.

“I thought about your nipples.” He pulled on the straps, and the delicate material broke apart. “I wanted to see them.” He pushed down the top of her dress. “Touch them.” His fingers plucked her nipples, and she arched upward with a gasp. “Taste them.” His head lowered and his mouth closed around her nipple, sucking strongly.

The faint edge of his teeth pressed against her, not pain…oh no, not pain.
Pleasure.

No more fear. Only need.

While he tongued one breast, his hands tormented the other. Squeezing, rubbing, driving her mad with a hunger and voracious need that just built and built.

She squirmed against him, trying to impale herself on the thick cock that was lodged at the mouth of her sex. She wanted him inside. Deep inside. She was so close to climaxing again. So close. She needed him to fill her.

Her fingers curved over his hips, felt the rough touch of his jeans, and she shoved the heavy material down. She gripped his hips, feeling the hot skin against her. And she tightened her hold around him, urging him forward.

Colin lifted his head, his lips glistening with moisture, and laughed, but it was a tight, rough sound. “Impatient, are you?”

Hell, yes, she was impatient. Her body was yearning, needing, and sweet release was just one good thrust away.

Her eyes narrowed as she stared up at him.
Two could play this game.

Her fingers trailed over his hip bones, skated down his abdomen, and found the dark nest of hair at his thighs.

He inhaled sharply at her touch, and she saw his nostrils flare even as he tensed against her.

Her fingers curled over the base of his erection, stroked slowly, squeezing him, moving from root to the tip that was pushing against her core.

His hands flashed out, grabbed her wrists, and pinned her hands to the bed. A growl sounded in his throat.

His eyes were burning with lust, and she knew she wouldn’t have to wait any longer.

His mouth crashed onto hers, his tongue thrusting past her lips—

And he buried his cock balls deep in her body.

Emily came immediately, her body pulsing, shaking, squeezing tightly around his thick length as a wave of intense, God-yes pleasure rocked over her. And still he thrust into her—deep, hard thrusts that shook the bed, that shook her.

His fingers were clenched around her wrists, his hips hammering against hers. He was wild, completely out of control as he took her.

And she loved it.

Loved it.

His head lifted, and she caught the gleam of a fang, then his mouth was lowering toward her throat.

Her breath choked out. Her heart slammed against her breast, and her legs locked even tighter around his thrusting hips.

“I love the way you feel when you come,” he whispered, “love the way you squeeze me. Love the tight, hot clasp of your sex.”

His words wrapped around her, fed the orgasm that was still spinning through her.

His cock was rock hard, so big that she felt deliciously stretched. Long, warm,
perfect.

She was riding an endless wave of release. It’d never been like this before,
never
and—

He bit her. Used those long canines in a bite on her neck that had her crying out in surprise and arching in shocked pleasure.

“Mine.”
His head lifted and his eyes glowed with a fierce blue fire. His cock drove into her, once, twice, then he was shuddering, stiffening, throwing back his head and gritting his teeth with the force of his release.

When it was over, when his hips stilled, when the tingling pleasure finally faded, Colin draped his body over hers. Freed her wrists, then took her hands and twined his fingers with hers.

Colin kissed her. A long, wet, open-mouthed kiss.

I’m not like the other men you’ve known.

Oh, but the man had certainly spoken the truth.

And, after having him, she was very much afraid that no other man would do for her again.

E
mily stood behind the podium, leaning forward slightly to pitch her voice into the microphone. A sea of cameras and bright lights stared back at her.

“After reviewing the case files, I’ve come to the conclusion that the perpetrator did, indeed, know the victim. This wasn’t a random crime. Preston Myers was specifically targeted.”

“Dr. Drake!” A thin Asian man raised his hand. “Lee Nguyen of the
Atlanta Metro Daily.
” He paused, apparently letting her absorb that little nugget of information. “Will the Night Butcher strike again? Are there others who will be ‘specifically targeted’?”

He stared up at her, his head cocked, his photographer snapping shots right beside him.

Emily slanted a quick glance at Danny. She’d told the captain her belief that the killer would, indeed, strike again, but he and the district attorney had told her not to share that information with the reporters.

“Don’t want folks to panic,” Ben Mitchell, the DA, had muttered at her news.

Ben stepped forward, offering a vague smile to Nguyen and the rest of the reporters who’d gathered in the press room. “It’s far too early to predict whether or not this disturbed individual will strike again.” His old, Southern boy accent played on the words.

“So you think the guy’s disturbed.” This came from Darla Mitchell who was looking TV perfect as she leaned forward with a hungry glint in her eye. Jake was behind her, a tense, slightly haggard expression on his face.

“Well…”

“Disturbed isn’t the right word for this man,” Emily cut him off, trying to keep her voice calm, professional.

“Then what’s the right word, Dr. Drake?” Darla was in the front row, easily seen as she stretched forward. “Psychotic? Deranged?

Or maybe just plain crazy?”

It was quite possible all those terms applied. “It’s difficult to say at this stage exactly what psychosis this individual has. I do know that this man is highly intelligent, organized, strong, and very, very dangerous.”

“Dr. Drake, do you intend to work with the police until the Night Butcher is caught?” This came from Nguyen.

“I intend to work with the Atlanta PD until they no longer need my services.” Time for her to step out of the limelight. “Thank you.”

Ben motioned Smith forward. “Our ME has some findings she’d like to share.”

Smith swallowed as she looked out at the sea of faces. She was looking even more gorgeous today. She’d ditched her white lab coat in favor of a simple black suit.

She pulled the microphone up, adjusting it slightly. “I’d like to clarify a few points that have previously been mentioned in the press.”

There was a brief of buzz of excitement at her announcement.

Her lips tightened. “First, despite the rumors, the victim was not ‘butchered.’ His body was intact. Preston Myers died because of severed jugular and carotid veins.”

“What weapon was used?” This question was fired from a middle-aged man in the back.

Dr. Smith shook her head. “I’m not at liberty to say at this point.”

Yes, Emily really didn’t think the DA wanted the press to know that the “weapon” used by the Night Butcher was his teeth.

“I would like the public to know that the suspect left several hairs behind.”

Wolf shifter hairs. Pretty hard to do a DNA analysis on those,
Emily thought.

“And I am confident that the evidence will soon lead us to the killer.” Smith inclined her head like a queen dismissing servants.

“Thank you.”

Ben took over then, answering a few questions and ending the press conference with a promise to follow up as soon as more details became available.

Thank God.

Emily hurriedly exited the small stage area. She’d never liked talking in front of large groups. Always made her knees shake and caused a tight knot in her gut.

Classic anxiety disorder, of course. But knowing the clinical root of her condition didn’t really make it any easier to bear.

“You did a good job, Doc.” Colin stepped from the crowd, appearing at her side.

“I thought you’d be up there, too.” She glanced at him, feeling a blush stain her cheeks. When she’d woken that morning, he’d been awake, gazing at her with his solemn stare.

He’d left just after seven, given her a hard but too brief kiss, and gone to the station.

They hadn’t talked about last night. Hadn’t said a word about the mind-blowing sex.

“Brooks is the one who handles the reporters.” He jerked his thumb toward his partner who was just now leaving the staging area.

“He’s got the pretty-boy face that always looks good on camera.”

Well, she thought Colin would look pretty good on camera too. Emily tensed. Damn. They really needed to talk, to clear the air.

But now was hardly the time and—

“Dr. Drake!”

Emily turned at Darla’s call. Found the woman making a beeline straight for her. Jake tagged along in her wake.

Darla paused two feet away from her. A smug smile curved her lips. “I’ve got a few questions for you.”

Colin stepped forward. “She’s done talking about the case.”

“Umm, well, it’s not about the case. Not really.”

At her Cheshire cat look, Emily got a very, very bad feeling in her gut. “What do you want to know?”

“Tell me, Doctor,” Darla paused, arched one perfectly plucked brow, “what do you know about a place called Serenity Woods?”

Her heart stopped. Then raced in a double-time rhythm. “Serenity Woods?” Her voice was clear, calm. And her palms were sweating. “Once, it was a psychiatric facility for children and teens in northern Georgia.” Emily shrugged. “I don’t think the place is still in business anymore.”

“No, it’s not.” Darla’s eyes were narrowed. “There was a fire at the hospital a few years ago, and after that, the place closed down.”

Emily stared back at the reporter, keeping her features carefully blank.

“Arson, according to the investigators.”

Colin took her arm. “We need to go, Dr. Drake. I think Smith wants to talk with us about the case.”

That was news to her. But Emily nodded, glad for an excuse to get away from Darla.
Serenity Woods.
She hadn’t heard that name in years.

Darla’s hand snaked out, snagging Emily’s just as she was turning away. “One more question.” The reporter’s hand felt like ice against her skin. Darla leaned forward, pitched her voice whisper low, as she asked, “Do you still see demons?”

Emily tensed. Then forced a slightly confused expression onto her face. “See demons?” She shook her head. “Of course not.”

Emily strove to look concerned. “Why, my dear, do you?”

Darla’s lips thinned as she snatched her hand back. Her pretty face twisted and she turned on her heel, shoving her way through the crowd.

Jake looked at Emily. Met her stare for just a moment. There was worry in his eyes. Worry for her and for himself.

He nodded to her, a slight inclination of his head, then disappeared into the throng of reporters.

Her breath left her in a hard
whoosh.

Shit. Darla Mitchell was digging into her past.

And her past was
definitely
not pretty.

Emily looked pale. Scared.

Colin tightened his hold on her arm and steered her toward the stairwell. He shoved open the metal door and gently pushed her past the threshold. When the door swung shut behind them, he hesitated a moment, listening intently, then, satisfied that they were the only ones in the stairwell, he figured it was time for a question-and-answer session of their own.

“Doc, what’s going on?”

Emily stared up at him, and her eyes looked very wide. “There are some things you don’t know about me.”

After last night, he’d started to think he knew the woman damn well. He knew just where to touch her to make that soft moan rumble in her throat. He knew what it felt like when she climaxed around him. Knew what she looked like first thing in the morning when the sunlight trickled through her blinds.

Yeah, he was starting to know the doc pretty well. But he knew she still had secrets.

So did he.

He figured he had the advantage though, considering he’d run a background check on her. After that first night, when he’d been sure someone was watching her, he’d started searching for information about the doc.

From what he’d gathered, the doc led a pretty quiet life. She dated occasionally but seemed to spend most of her time working with her patients.

He knew there was more to Emily though, knew secrets lay beneath her calm surface. And it looked like he was about to learn one of those secrets now…

“I think Darla’s investigating me.” Her lips tightened. “Correction, I
know
she is.” Anger hardened her voice. “I don’t know how she got the file. It should have been destroyed. There is no way she should have—”