I squeezed my thighs together, but instead of easing, the ache only grew. Heat rushed through me at a rapid pace, my br**sts heavy, my sex pulsing in a dull throbbing that begged to be filled. I blinked hard in an impossible attempt to center myself.
He grinned, as if he’d heard every naughty thought in my head.
It had always been this way between us. Any time I ran into him at the club, the attraction had been electric, and when we found ourselves alone, the flirting, outrageous.
One night, Gabe had caught me exiting the ladies’ room. Lance had come upon us then, and once home, he’d accused me of desiring Gabe. I’d denied it, of course.
I’d lied.
Lance knew it, and after catching us talking privately at more than one event, he’d kept a firm lock on my arm. And because I desperately wanted the life I’d chosen to make sense, I’d allowed the possession.
Besides, Gabe always had an elegant woman on his arm, a different one each time. He could have any beautiful female he desired. Why would he choose me? Even Lance, who I’d been with for what felt like a lifetime, liked ownership, not me. And let’s face it, my parents hadn’t wanted me either. So believing in myself wasn’t my strong suit.
“So. What are you in for?” Gabe settled in his brother’s chair, propping an elbow on the cluttered desk so he could lean closer. “Prostitution?”
“Excuse me?” I choked out. “You know I’m not a hooker!” I said, offended, the whispers I’d heard when Lance and I had first gotten together rushing back.
Gold digger and mistress were among the chosen words, never mind that Lance’s single-minded pursuit had broken down every one of my defenses.
Gabe chuckled, assuring me he’d been joking. “Seriously, you dress down as well as you dress up.” His gaze raked over me, hot approval in the inky depths, appreciating me in a way Lance never had.
My insides trembled at the overwhelming effect this man had on me. “Where’s the cop with my money?” I asked, glancing around.
“Worried about your stash?” Gabe drummed his fingers on the desk. “Are you sure you’re not a hooker?” he mused.
I didn’t want to grin, but I did. “Why are you so desperate to think I am? Are you a pimp or something?”
He burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the walls of the quiet station. “Not quite,” he said, obviously amused.
The tread of his brother’s heavy footsteps announced his return.
Gabe looked at the other man with a disappointed expression. “Bro, didn’t anyone tell you you’re supposed to handcuff a lady to the headboard, not a desk?” He folded his arms across his broad chest. “It’s no wonder you can’t get any action.”
I ducked my head, trying not to laugh.
A flush highlighted the other man’s cheeks. “What are you doing here, and why are you bothering my suspect?”
Gabe tapped on his wristwatch. Gold. White face. Rolex. All my jewelry was in Lance’s safe, I realized, the thought making me sad. Not because I was materialistic but because some of the pieces, the few I’d chosen myself, I really had liked.
Gabe glanced at his brother. “Didn’t you say you were off at eleven? I thought we’d go check out the club I’m thinking of taking over.”
“Are you really looking for a new club? Or is this trip an excuse to find some new woman to warm your bed?”
His sibling doesn’t pull punches, I thought, glancing away, not wanting Gabe to see my reaction to the thought of any female in his bed.
“I’m still with Naomi.”
My stomach still twisted uncomfortably.
His brother frowned. “She’s a bitch.”
I cleared my throat, unwilling to sit here a minute longer and listen to details of Gabe’s love life. “Hello? Prisoner still here!” I reminded them with a wave of my free hand.
Gabe grinned at me.
I looked away, not wanting to acknowledge the utter rush of pleasure that small gesture brought me.
“What’s she in for?” he asked his brother.
“Grand theft auto, but her boyfriend dropped the charges.”
Gabe swore under his breath. “That son of a bitch had you arrested?”
I latched onto the latter part of his statement. “Lance dropped the charges?” Relief swamped me, and if I’d been standing, my knees might have given out.
“Charges dropped,” the cop restated. “As long as you agree to relinquish the car.”
My head whipped up. “That bastard.” He was still trying to control me. He knew I’d left with next to nothing, yet he still had to strip me of the one thing he knew I loved. Realistically, however, since I couldn’t afford to park my baby in the city, Lance had done me a favor.
“Deal,” I said to Gabe’s brother. “He can have the car.”
“I wasn’t negotiating,” the cop said.
“Decklan.” Gabe’s tone held a definite warning.
I didn’t need or want Gabe going to bat for me, and I ignored his hot—and I do mean hot—stare.
“Release me?” I jangled my chain.
Decklan—I now knew my jailer’s name—nodded. “Your boyfriend said he’d come down to get you so you two could talk out this … misunderstanding. In which case maybe you can keep the automobile.” He glanced at his watch. “He’ll be here in about thirty minutes, give or take.”
“Oh hell no.” I wasn’t going anywhere with Lance, and I certainly didn’t want the confrontation sure to come if he showed up. I jangled my cuffed wrist, suddenly desperate to escape. I had to get out of here now, and I needed a head start.
“Decklan! Unlock the damned cuffs,” Gabe barked at his brother in a baritone that ironically settled me.
His officer brother, however, jumped to do his bidding.
I shook out my hand and glanced down. A red stripe bruised my skin, and I rubbed my sore wrist.
Gabe’s gaze followed my every movement, his eyes darkening once more. With a low growl, he lifted my hand and stroked my marked flesh with his strong, tanned fingers. A sudden vision of him gripping me harder, pulling me roughly against him, grinding his muscular body into mine, took form, and I trembled, aroused by his tone, his sensual touch, and my torturous thoughts.
“Are you okay?” Gabe asked gruffly.
His voice returned me to my current location and predicament. “Yes. Fine.”
An intimate smile curved his lips, and I would swear he knew exactly how hot he’d made me, how wet.