My gray eyes drank in the crook in his nose, the curve of his chin, the steady twitch of his pulse in his throat. Donovan felt my gaze, saw the hunger shimmering there. An answering heat sparked in his golden gaze, even as he tried to smother it.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked.
"No, I don't. Why don't you tell me?"
My smile widened. "Why don't I show you instead?"
I leaned over, caught his face in my hands, and pressed my lips to his.
Not the sweetest or most romantic of kisses, but I enjoyed the sensation of the detective's lips on mine, even if he didn't. He tasted of the Scotch he'd just downed-hot, spicy, sweet, and salty all at the same time. His aroma filled my nose. Clean, like soap. It clung to him, as though embedded in his skin. Mmm.
I flicked my tongue against his lips. Caine stiffened. He didn't pull away, but he kept his mouth closed and his tongue inside. A shame, really.
"Come on, detective," I murmured against his tight lips. "Everybody else here is doing it. Why shouldn't we?" "Do I really have to list the reasons?" he growled.
"No," I replied. "But I have just as many why we should. This is one of them." I slid over onto his lap. Even though I'd given him no warning and very little to turn him on, Donovan's erection pressed into my ass, solid and straining. I kissed him again, lightly pressing my lips to his, then shifted my legs so I was straddling him. I rocked forward, then retreated, rubbing against his body, pressing my br**sts to his chest, exploring this attraction that simmered between us. Mmm.
Donovan's hands clenched into fists on either side of me. All he could do to keep from touching me.
"Come on, detective," I murmured. "You want me, too. I'm sitting on ample proof of that. After this is over, we'll go our separate ways. I've almost been killed too many times to count this week. So have you. Why shouldn't we work off some of that stress and have a little fun in the meantime?"
Donovan stared at me. Desire warmed his eyes, making them shine like twin suns.
Still, he hesitated. I shifted my hips again, urging him on. The slight friction pushed him over the edge. The detective let out a low growl, wound his hand in my hair, and pulled my lips down to his.
There were no closed mouths this time. No light touches or hesitation. Our tongues thrashed against each other, driving deeper and deeper into each other's mouth. I splayed my hands on his chest, kneading his lean muscles, marveling at his coiled strength. He pulled me closer. His hands moved up to my br**sts. I scraped my nails down his stomach. We both rocked, teasing the other with what we each had to offer.
After ten seconds, I was wet. After thirty, I ached for him. By the minute mark, I was ready to rip his jeans off and pull him down under the bar with me. But I wanted to be alone with Donovan Caine, wanted to forget about everything but him and how he made me feel.
"They have rooms upstairs," I whispered against his mouth.
More emotions flashed in his eyes. Desire. Guilt. Hesitation. Need. Slowly, he nodded.
I grinned and leaned forward to kiss him again when I felt an odd, pulsing buzz on my leg. It took me a few My cell phone vibrating.
Chapter Twenty
Finn was calling, which meant our prey for the evening had arrived. Damn and double damn Charles Carlyle. Because no matter how much I wanted Donovan Caine, no matter how much he wanted me, tracking the vampire came first. Finding out who his Air elemental boss was came first.
Avenging Fletcher came first.
I sighed. "Sorry, detective. Duty calls."
"I know," Donovan said in a husky voice. "I can feel your phone vibrating against my thigh."
Our gazes locked. Desire still brightened the detective's eyes, along with something else-relief. I wondered at the emotion. Relief about what? That he wouldn't betray his dead partner by f**king me? That his morals would remain intact for another night? Or that he wouldn't discover how good it would be between us and hunger for more?
My phone kept vibrating. I slid off the detective's lap, pulled the cell out of my jeans pocket, and flipped it open. "What is it, Finn?"
"Carlyle just walked in the front door, in case you were wondering," Finn said in a wry voice. "Or would you rather keep dry humping the good detective?" My gaze cut to the front of the club. It took me a few seconds to pick out Charles Carlyle, aka Chuckie C., from the rest of the crowd. But once I did, it was easy enough to track him. The short, stocky vampire sported a black suit with wide, white pinstripes and white wingtips. The black lights spread throughout the club made the stripes and shoes glow a bright fluorescent. Better than GPS. A black fedora covered Carlyle's bald spot. He also had two other accessories-a girl on either arm. The women sported the heart-and-arrow rune necklace of the club's workers. Chuckie C. was starting his tab off early.
Carlyle headed straight for the giant manning the entrance to the private VIP rooms.
Carlyle said something to the giant. After a moment, the taller man stepped aside, and Carlyle and the girls entered the hallway.
"Where are you?" I asked Finn.
"Back past the VIP entrance in a booth with Roslyn."
I spotted the two of them, as close together as Donovan Caine and I had been a minute ago. "Stay there. We'll come to you."
I snapped the phone shut and turned to the detective. "Carlyle's here. Let's go."
* * *
We left the bar and slithered through the crowd until we reached Roslyn and Finn.
One of the vampire's hands was out of sight under the table. Judging from the smile on Finn's face, Roslyn had been stroking more than his ego. At the sight of the detective and me, the vampire got to her feet and smoothed down her skirt. Roslyn stared at the sequined fruit glittering on my black T-shirt.
"Cherries. Cute," she said.
I grinned.
"Follow me." Roslyn headed toward a door in the very back wall of the club. Donovan Caine fell in step behind her.
"Stay out here and keep an eye on things," I told Finn. "Carlyle might have friends coming to join him."
"Not a problem. I'm feeling a bit thirsty anyway." Finn winked, got to his feet, and wandered off toward the bar.
I caught up with Roslyn just as the vampire opened a door set into the red velvet that covered the walls. The opening led to a small hallway that stretched out in either direction before branching off at both ends. Roslyn closed the door behind us, lessening the rocking beat of the music.
"This way," she said and turned left.
We followed her down the passageway. A variety of rooms lay on either side of the hall. Offices with computers and printers, private bathrooms for the staff, a break room with vending machines and rows of metal lockers. The business side of the nightclub. The walls back here were covered with black velvet instead of red. It matched the carpet underfoot.