Secret Sins (8 page)

The fingers of one hand tangled in her hair, tugging her head back as a gasp parted
her lips. His lips covered hers, the wicked, heated stroke of his tongue licking against
hers, pulling her into a surplus of pure sensory overload.

Her fingers fluttered against the breadth of his hard chest as he released her hands.
She ached to touch him, to find some way to delve beneath his shirt to the heated
skin beneath.

She had to touch him. She had to feel his flesh against hers, to stroke and caress
his hard body. This was her fantasy. The need for it tormented her dreams with almost
nightly consistency. She couldn’t escape it. She didn’t want to escape it.

She pushed past the material between the top two buttons to find the coarse hair-covered
flesh beneath.

Heat met her touch.

The feel of his heart beating, thundering beneath her fingers, easily matching the
beat of her own as his fingers found the latch of her bra between her breasts and
flicked it loose.

Releasing her lips with a groan he pulled back, his head lifting, staring down at
her as she felt the buttons of her light summer blouse being released.

The experience and sheer confidence in his touch wasn’t lost on her. Just as her own
inexperience wasn’t lost on her.

Would he be surprised to learn she was a virgin?

Would he be pleased to learn she was a virgin?

“Release my shirt, Anna,” he growled as he pushed the shoulders of her blouse and
the slim straps of her bra over her shoulders. The tug of the material pulled her
arms down until he could pull it free of her and send the clothing fluttering to the
floor. “Come on, baby, show me what you want.”

What she wanted?

All of him.

Lips parted, fighting to draw in breath as he brought her hands to the buttons of
his shirt.

She fumbled with the first.

As certain as she had been that she could slip each rounded disc through its hole,
she found herself fumbling.

An aching moan left her throat as his head began lowering, his hands cupping her breasts,
lifting them.

“How fucking pretty,” he rasped, the wild, predatory color of his gaze lifting to
hers, gleaming with hunger through the heavy veil of thick lashes. “I’ve dreamed of
tasting your nipples, Anna. Of sucking on them until that soft, soft pink turns a
pretty raspberry.”

“Archer—”

How was she supposed to unbutton his shirt when he—

“Oh God, Archer.”

His tongue licked over the hard tip of her nipple.

Flaming sensation washed through her body as pleasure surged like a rogue wave through
her senses.

As she tried to catch her breath, to right her senses, his lips were surrounding it,
his mouth covering the tight nipple and sending shafts of fiery pleasure surging straight
to her clit.

Moving her hips, grinding her clit on the hard shaft pressing into it, nothing mattered
but finding relief now. The pleasure was torturous. It tore through her, blazing a
path of such indescribable sensation through her body that she forgot about getting
his shirt off.

Head thrown back against the fridge, little moans of pleasure rising unbidden from
her lips, Anna slid her fingers beneath the collar of his shirt as she flexed her
nails against his flesh. Eyes closed, surrounded with lush, fiery sensation, pleasure
clenched her womb with desperate contractions.

She needed.

Oh God, she needed so much more.

The feel of his mouth drawing on the violently sensitive nipple was excruciating pleasure.
The rasp of his tongue as he tasted it, the rake of his teeth against it as he teased
and tormented it, was like lashing whips of sizzling pleasure-pain.

Each suckling motion, each incredibly heated draw of his mouth had the need, the lashing
flares of desperation rising, striking at her clit, tightening her womb with increased
force.

“Fuck, baby,” the harsh growl came as his lips lifted from the needy flesh and his
fingers slid to the rounded curves of her rear. “Come on, we’re not doing this here.”

As he moved to turn, her knees still gripping his hips, the radio at his hip began
issuing rising static before the dispatcher came over the connection.

As she listened, Anna’s lips parted; the code, despite having given no information
a layman could have deciphered, wasn’t hard for her to understand.

After hanging around Archer and his father for years, she had picked up enough to
be able to follow the code.

Deputy Caine had found a victim’s vehicle, and the only one she knew of missing was
the one belonging to Katy Winslow.

Drawing back, Archer pulled the radio slowly from the holster at his hip, his gaze
still locked on hers.

“Sheriff Tobias en route,” he answered. “Inform Deputy Caine to remain on location.”

“Ten-four, Sheriff Tobias, will appraise Deputy Caine of status,” the dispatcher said
as Archer moved back, allowing her legs to slide from his hips and hold her own weight.

The loss of his touch, of the warmth and pleasure she’d experienced in his arms, was
a sensation she could only describe as painful.

“Don’t you leave,” he warned, the dark rasp on his tone, the dominant command in it
sending a shiver racing up her spine.

“I’ll think about it.” Shrugging in apparent unconcern, she stared back at him as
though she were going to do whatever the hell she wanted to do.

The sad fact was, she wanted to stay. She wanted to stay so much it was a hunger inside
her. A hunger that burned inside her with a flame she knew she wouldn’t be able to
deny.

“Yeah, you do that,” he growled as he snagged his hat from where he’d tossed it to
the kitchen table and jammed it on his head. “And when you’re done thinking about
it, I’ll be back.” He paused before turning away. “And you damned well better be here.”

Drawing in a deep breath she watched as he turned and stalked from the kitchen before
moving quickly through the wide foyer and out the front door.

He slammed the door closed, but took the time to stop and lock the deadbolt.

Anna’s lips quirked before her fingers lifted to the swollen curves, a sensation of
weakness flooding her womb and vagina at the memory of how they’d become swollen.

It was only then she realized she was still naked from the waist up. Her shirt and
bra on the floor—

At least, they had been on the floor.

Looking around, her lips tightened to hold back her grin as she propped her hands
on her hips and pretended to glare at the monster cat on the other side of the room.

He was lying on her shirt, the lace-trimmed strap of her bra hooked around his neck.

“Go ahead and keep it,” she murmured to the cat as though unconcerned. “Your owner
can just buy me a new one.”

Hefting her bags to her shoulder she turned, found the staircase and headed up it
quickly.

Of course, she was staying. At least, for now.

Just to see what happened.

Just to see if there was any chance of stealing Sheriff Archer Tobias’ heart.

CHAPTER 4

It was Katy Winslow’s car.

The little twelve-year-old sedan had been sent over Callahan’s Peak, the sheer drop
the Callahan grandparents and parents had gone over.

There was a message here, Archer could feel it as he drove the SUV down the rough
track that led to the rocky valley below.

Katy’s car was a burned-out wreck. At the base of the cliff it still smoldered sullenly,
giving a gloomy cast to the late afternoon sun.

Pulling his vehicle alongside Deputy Caine’s, Archer leveled a low, considering look
at the other man.

John Caine had arrived in Corbin County just before the Callahans had returned. Just
before the murdering duo dubbed the Slasher had struck for the first time in twelve
years.

The deputy had found that first body and each one after that. He’d been the one to
find each piece of evidence and uncover each clue. He was on Archer’s short list of
suspects.

As Archer watched him, the deputy tipped his hat back on his head and stared back
at him.

Stepping from the Tahoe, Archer moved across the distance to the little sedan and
stared at the burned-out remains. Propping his hands on his hips he blew out a hard
breath.

“Why?” he murmured as the acrid scent of the vehicle burning surrounded his senses.

“Why crash it here?” the deputy asked. “It’s connected to the Callahans obviously,
just as her murder was,” he answered the question building in Archer’s mind.

It was the obvious answer.

“This is out of character,” Archer stated.

“Or the vehicle held prints or other evidence the Slasher doesn’t want found. What
better way, in an amateur’s mind, to hide that evidence than to burn it.”

Not exactly what Archer expected from him.

Crossing his arms over his chest and rubbing at his jaw thoughtfully, he slid a look
to his deputy once again. “Did you contact Callum?”

“He’s twenty minutes away.” The deputy nodded.

Archer glanced at him again, seeing the practiced expression of emotionlessness. He
hated that fucking look on any man’s face. It made him instantly suspicious, instantly
curious as to what he was hiding.

“What did she do to deserve his attention?” Archer murmured thoughtfully as he continued
to stare at the smoldering car. “She wasn’t sleeping with a Callahan. She hadn’t slept
with one in the past and she wasn’t helping them in any way. Like many of the women
in town, she kept a very careful distance.”

“Then she saw something she wasn’t supposed to see?” the deputy asked. “That’s the
only thing that makes sense, isn’t it?”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense now,” Archer breathed out roughly. “But what?
Or who?”

The deputy shook his head slowly as he crossed his arms over his chest before lifting
a hand to rub at the side of his face. “The Callahans and their properties are the
objective, though,” he murmured then.

“The objective in what?” It was a question neither Archer nor his father had been
able to answer. “What makes it so damned important that one or more has cut a swath
of blood through this County?”

The deputy gave a hard, sarcastic grunt.

“That one, Sheriff, is buried, and even I, the master of gossip, rumor, and shady
deals, have yet to uncover it.”

“Master of gossip, rumor, and shady deals, huh?” Archer murmured as he glanced at
the deputy once again.

Caine grinned with cool mockery. “We all have our talents, Sheriff, we all have our
talents.”

Archer wondered if those talents could have led to murder.

Maybe someone else had those answers, though.

As the deputy walked away, Archer made a call.

“Hello?” John Corbin answered on the first ring.

“I want answers, John.” Archer stared around the canyon, the bleak stone walls, the
hint of a pine struggling to anchor to a soft ledge above.

“Archer…”

“I said, I fucking want answers,” he snapped. “You’ll be at my place before dawn,
or I’ll be there. You hearing me?”

Silence filled the line for long moments.

“I hear you.”

The line disconnected.

*   *   *

Anna awoke to the most incredible sensation.

It wasn’t sensual, hot, or filled with lust or sexual hunger. It wasn’t sensual or
sexual at all.

It was like the softest silk—no, softer than silk. It was the softest touch rubbing
against her shoulder, slow and easy, caressing down her arm. It was warm, comforting.
It was a sensation of living warmth, accepting and vibrating—

A frown tugged at her brow, drawing her further from sleep.

It was vibrating against her shoulder.

No, it was purring.

Forcing her lashes to open she turned her head to stare into the slitted golden eyes
that peered at her as Oscar rubbed the side of his face against the curve of her shoulder.

A peek at the clock on the living room wall assured her it was well after two in the
morning. Archer had been gone all day and now most of the night.

A plaintive meow rumbled from the cat’s throat as he rubbed against her shoulder again.

“What do you want?” she mumbled. “Can’t believe you’re harassing me after stealing
my bra and shirt. Those were damned expensive, you know.”

A rumble between a purr and a meow sounded again as Oscar stared back at her with
such arrogant command that she couldn’t help but think of Archer.

“What do you want, anyway?” She really didn’t want to get out of bed. “Don’t you know
I have to show up for work in like five hours? I need my beauty sleep.”

The feline growling purr sounded again. This time, instead of rubbing against her
shoulder, Oscar pushed at it with his big head.

“Bossy.” Sitting up, she was prepared to push herself from the couch to get whatever
the demanding fur ball wanted only to watch in surprise as he moved farther onto the
couch and settled into the corner where her head had been resting.

His eyes closed, shoulders shifting as he perfected his position and settled into
sleep as though he hadn’t awakened her to do so. As though he wasn’t even concerned
with her presence after forcing her awake so he could take his favorite position.

“You ass,” she accused him, surprised by the animal’s audacity. “I was sleeping myself,
you know.”

And he obviously didn’t care. He didn’t even twitch at the anger in her voice.

Shaking her head at the animal, Anna glanced at the front door, then at the clock
again.

“Did he finally wake you?”

She swung around, nearly falling from the couch in surprise as Archer moved into the
living room from the opposite doorway, obviously having come from upstairs and the
shower.

Damp, darker than its normal sandy blond, his hair lay around his face, obviously
having just been dried with little care as to style. The ends curled haphazardly as
the heavy strands framed his darkly tanned face and made his golden brown eyes appear
more like hammered gold than normal.