Then his gaze rose to hers again, and the desire so evident in his stormy eyes echoed right through her. Lust ignited the air between them, caressing her skin with heat until it felt like she was glowing.
He smiled slowly, intimately, and her already erratic pulse tripped into overdrive. It was the sort of smile that might be shared by two lovers after a night of incredible sex, and that was exactly the message his smile was meant to portray. And she sensed it would be extraordinary between them. That he would more than live up to the promises made by his heated gaze and sexy smile.
"Grey Stockard." He offered his hand, his voice low and rich, thrumming through her as warmly as a summer breeze.
Grey? Was it merely coincidence that they'd picked his name without even knowing it? If that was his real name, of course. "Eryn James."
His fingers were long and strong, and so hot they seemed to wrap hers in an inferno. And suddenly she was fighting images of those fingers sliding across her skin, exploring and caressing and teasing. Oh, how she wanted that. Wanted to be touched by this man.
She swallowed, battling to keep on an even keel, battling to remember why she was here and who he might be.
"Pleasure to meet you," he said, raising her hand to his lips, his breath warm against her knuckles as he brushed the sweetest of kisses across her fingertips.
God, her heart was hammering so hard it felt as if it would jump out of her chest.
"Care to dance?" he continued softly Only if dancing was a euphemism for let's get down and have wild sex.
She hastily drank some champagne, but it did little to ease the dryness in her throat or the deeper down burning. "I thought you were on your way somewhere else."
"Only for a drink." The smile that tugged his lips was so damn sensuous her knees threatened to give way. "And only because I had nothing better to do."
Oh, she could think of lots of things he could do… She swallowed another hasty gulp of champagne, and felt the buzz start in her head. Only she wasn't sure whether it was the alcohol or the closeness of the man.
Somehow, she managed to say, "And you've found something better now?"
"I believe I might have. If she's willing."
The wicked gleam in his eyes told her he wasn't just talking about dancing, and her pulse rate soared even higher.
"She is." Very willing. She finished her drink in another large gulp that made her head spin even more.
"Good."
He plucked the glass from her hand, put it on a table in a nearby booth, then led her into the thick of the dance floor, right into the very heart of the crush, until it seemed everyone was pressing and touching everyone else, and the smell of desire was so powerful it was almost liquid. Heat swirled around her, through her, until it was impossible to tell whether the hunger flaming her skin was hers or his or the crowd's.
But however fiercely she wanted him, she was not so far gone that she lost all sense of danger. She had to be careful.
Had to. Then he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close, and suddenly the need to be careful was all but lost to the smell of raw virility and thick need. She closed her eyes, losing herself in the aroma, allowing it to wash through her pores and set her body alight even more.
Until she realized something was missing.
His scent.
Which was ridiculous. Everyone had a scent, and it was as individual as a fingerprint. But underneath the sheer male smell, there was nothing. Maybe the heat surrounding her, drowning her, was affecting her senses.
He began to move in time to the music, and she swayed with him. But it wasn't dancing, as such. With the crowd pressed so close, true dancing had become impossible.
Besides, the way their bodies brushed was far too intimate, far too erotic, to come under the label of simple dancing.
After a while, he raised a hand and brushed the strands of hair from her cheek. Her skin quivered, burned, where he touched. "Do you come here often?"
I plan to come tonight, and often, she thought, but somehow kept the words inside. "First time. You?"
"Been here for just over a week."
And the murders had started just over two weeks ago. But did that put him in the clear? Especially when he might have been visiting other LifeMate bars? Damn it, had anyone bothered checking that the dead women hadn't visited any other bars? It hadn't been mentioned in the reports she'd read.
"If you've been here that long, I'm surprised you haven't been gobbled up."
His gray eyes gleamed with amusement. "Oh, a few ladies have tried that. And as much as I enjoyed the experience, they weren't what I was looking for."
She had sudden visions of taking the thick hardness of his cock in her mouth, teasing him and tasting him as he teased and tasted her. Sweat prickled across her skin and the deep down ache became positively painful. And while it was against protocol to do that sort of thing here on the dance floor, she was sorely tempted to rush him upstairs and grab a room.
Somehow, she managed to restrain the urge and after thrusting the enticing images from her mind, said, "So, what are you looking for?"
"I'm not really sure I'm actually looking." His hand slid from her back to her butt, branding her skin through the thin fibers of her dress and sending delicious slivers of anticipation thrumming through her.
Then he pulled her tighter against him, so close that she was breathing in as he breathed out, and the wild beat of his heart echoed hers. His body was warm and hard, and the thick heat of his erection rubbed erotically against her belly.
God, how she wished they were naked. Wished he was inside, not outside.
She again managed to drag her mind from the sexual mire it was seeping into, and raised an eyebrow. "Then why are you here?"
He shrugged. "I was curious."
He was also lying. Why she was so certain, she couldn't really say. She'd always been intuitive, but this went deeper.
It was almost as if she tasted the lie in his words, and that was odd indeed.
But if he hadn't come here to find a mate, what had he come here for? To hunt down his next victim?
She didn't want to believe that—she really didn't. Yet it was a possibility she had to consider.
"You're spending a lot of money just to satisfy curiosity."
He shrugged again. "If you've got it, why not use it?"
Why not indeed. And did that mean he was so rich that the price this place charged was little more than petty cash? "If you were looking, what would your type be?"
His eyes gleamed with amusement. "Someone who could get me hot enough to come with just a look."
He was teasing, and avoiding the question. Obviously, a man who didn't want to be pinned down. So how did he become a member? The bar telepathically screened all applicants to ensure those applying actually wanted kids. That they weren't just using the bar as a free sex service. How did Grey slip through their nets?
"And have you ever found someone like that?"
"Up until now, no."
The heat in his gaze was growing in intensity, sending burning waves of desire lapping across her skin. She licked her lips, saw his gaze drop, felt the hunger sizzling the air leap several more notches. God, she wished she had a drink.
Wished she could just throw caution to the wind.
"So you've never actually dated any of the women here?"
His gaze jumped back to hers, the gray depths suddenly holding the chill of winter. "No. Why do you ask?"
"Just curious. A few of the men I talked to earlier said they'd tried it, but it hadn't worked out in the end."
"Really?"
He was suspicious. Not that it showed in his voice or his expression. It was just something she felt.
Why would he be suspicious if he was innocent?