Free Slave to Love by Nikita Black Page A

her bottom.
    Ohgod-ohgod-ohgod.
    “And I think no matter how much you want to deny it,” he murmured, “you want me as much as I want you.”
    She swallowed, weakening. “You want me?”
    “Oh, yeah. From the first time I saw you in that lunchroom, I've wanted to bend you over a chair, lift those disgracefully short hooker skirts and put an end to this infernal craving I have for you.”
    She opened her eyes and lost herself in the feral promise offered in his shadowy reflection. “Why didn't you?”
    A harsh sound vibrated from deep in his chest. His fingers dipped under the hem of her T-shirt, skimmed up her thighs and over her hips to her waist, dragging the shirt up as they went. Gripping her firmly, he pulled her back into him, so her bare bottom pressed against his jeans, her hips framed by his muscular thighs. “I don't fraternize at work.”
    Excitement shuddered through her body. God, he felt so good, smelled so arousingly male. He bent and kissed up her neck, catching her earlobe between his teeth. His hands left her waist and traveled slowly up. He touched her naked breasts and she cried out softly, a shock of desire streaking right to her center.
    “I don't want a relationship,” she managed to stammer past the haze. Just to keep things straight. He was too much to resist, but she had her priorities.
    “I think you and I both want the same thing.”
    His hands enveloped her and squeezed, just enough to make her ache for more. She very nearly dropped her wine glass.
    “Wouldn't that be classified as fraternizing?”
    He turned her in his arms and gripped her hips with strong fingers, her sleep-shirt riding on his wrists. “We left our badges at the door, remember?”
    “I don't understand,” she said, fighting to latch onto a last, coherent thought. Struggling not to think about how much she wanted him. Or how she was completely bare from the waist down. “Why now?”
    He stared down at her, a searing heat filling his eyes. “This afternoon, when I saw you on your knees in front of me, a zipper away from—” He paused, letting the silence fill in the blanks. “I knew there was no way in hell I could ever be alone with you for more than five minutes and not get you naked.”
    His mouth slanted over hers, pausing there like a succulent fruit, just out of reach. “I really had only two choices,” he murmured.
    She could taste his breath in her mouth and her throat ached in anticipation of the taste of his tongue on hers. She pried her fingers off the edge of the counter and placed them on his chest. If she had any kind of sense she'd push him away. She didn’t.
    “First, I could throw you off the task force.” He looked deep into her eyes. “I came here tonight to fire you, you know.”
    “What made you change your mind?”
    “Who says I have?”
    “You could always fire yourself,” she suggested tartly, giving his chest a shove. He clamped down tighter on her hips.
    “Yeah, I could remove myself, and give you to Bobby to work the case with. Would you like that?” He pulled her closer. “He wants you, too, you know.”
    Her fingers moved over the hard muscles lining his broad chest. “I don't want to work with Bobby. And you can take—”
    “Women think Bobby's a good-looking guy,” he interrupted. “Sexy. Don't you think Bobby's a good-looking guy?”
    “Yes, but I don't want to—” She skidded to a halt.
    Mick raised a brow. “Be his pleasure slave?”
    “That's right.”
    He spun them both a quarter turn and she landed with her back against the narrow section of wall next to the wet bar. The plaster was chilly against her skin, but his body pressed into hers, sending ribbons of heat zinging through her.
    “Whose pleasure slave would you like to be, Caroline?”
    She clutched at his shirt, clinging to it like a life preserver, pretending she wasn't shaking like a lamb in a lion's den. And grasped at one last straw. “You said there were two choices. What's the other