“Again, Detective,” I say slowly and quietly, pushing off the desk and walking around it. “I do not appreciate you bursting into my office and yelling at me like I’m a petulant schoolchild. I have no idea what kinda saps y’all work with at the police department or what kinda women y’all got that roll over like little dachshunds expectin’ themselves a belly rub when you call for ’em, but you ain’t gonna find one here. I’m conducting my own investigation whether you like it not, and not once have I stepped on your toes. In fact, I’ve been nothing but fucking cooperative to your rude ass.”
“Watch your damn mouth, Noelle Bond,” Drake says low, his tone full of threats and barely restrained anger. “My patience where you’re concerned is just about at the breakin’ point, and when it reaches it, you ain’t gonna like me very much.”
“So save yourself a job and cuff me. See what the hell happens when you do that.”
He stands and turns to me, eclipsing me in height and width. “Are you threatenin’ me, ma’am?”
I take another step toward him despite our size differences. “Fuck yeah, I’m threatenin’ you, sir. Except my threats are closer to promises, so try it and see how well it ends for you.”
The minute distance between our bodies is swallowed by his single step toward me. If I were to reach out just a little, my fingers would brush his inevitably toned stomach.
“You have five seconds to take it back before I make good on my threat, Noelle.”
“You have five seconds to get your ass the hell out of my goddamned office before I break your kneecaps.”
Within two seconds, Drake Nash’s arms are around me and he has both of my wrists secured at the base of my back with one of his hands. The other is pressed between my shoulder blades, an open pair of handcuffs just close enough that I can feel the chill of the metal through the light material of my shirt. He’s so close that I can feel every contour of his body pressing against mine, and the heat of his breath flowing across my skin sends my body temperature up several degrees.
“Do not tempt me,” he whispers hoarsely in my ear. “Do yourself a favor and refund Ryan Perkins his money. Then get your ass out of this investigation. It’s too fucking dangerous for you, Noelle. You have no idea what you’re up against.”
“Don’t ever underestimate me. You may be able to restrain me without trying, but I sure as hell ain’t afraid to fight your fine ass and pin you to the ground,” I grind out. “I’m not the cops who work under you at the station. They might whimper when you so much as glare at them, but you can have those handcuffs at my back, Detective, and I’m still gonna be ready to twist your balls off and hand them to you.”
“Listen to me,” he says, his voice still hoarse. “Stay. Away. You’re connected to this. I don’t know how yet, but you are, and every time you drag your fine ass into another branch of this case, you’re puttin’ yourself in danger.”
I swallow and meet his eyes, my heart thundering in my chest. “I always liked to live on the wild side. Ask my family. I’m the kid who ran across the road without looking and ignored the ‘do not feed the animals’ signs at the zoo. I’m doing my job. Just like you are. Try to remember that I’m trained the same way you are.”
“Dammit, Noelle!” Drake snaps, letting me go, his handcuffs clattering to the floor between us as he pushes me backward. “You’re askin’ to sign your fuckin’ death warrant. Do you know that? It doesn’t matter if you have a gun on you or have them hidden in your office, car, and at home. This killer isn’t playing by the rules. They’ve ambushed and poisoned without the victim even knowing it. This is a cold, calculated murderer on our hands, and your pretty little blue Glock inside your pants isn’t gonna save your ass from a poisoned fuckin’ salad!”
His words cut through me with their honesty. Because I know that, really. But the blood that runs through my veins—it’s cop blood. It’s blood that flows for justice and retribution, and the heart that pumps it around my body beats for righteousness.
“I know that!” I shout, running my fingers through my hair. “But someone I know, my friend, was murdered and dumped in my parking lot. Someone I followed, someone I had to chase and spy on. Then her best friend turns up dead. In my car. My fucking car! Someone else I had to follow and dig up dirt on.” I take a deep breath. “You don’t do this job and not get enemies, Drake. I have a helluva lot of enemies—people who hire me then hate me. You know how you deal with your enemies? You don’t run away. You stand ten feet away from them, laugh, and give them a big ol’ fuck you. This person who’s doing this? They’re my goddamned enemy, and I’ll be fucked if I’m gonna sit here in my office like a good little girl and let them think they’ve won, because the only way they’ll win this is if I’m the one poisoned, cut up, and laid out to die wherever they dump my body!”
Three steps.
That’s all it takes for him to close the distance between us and slam our bodies together.
That’s all it takes for my body to be against his, for his arms to be around me, for his hand to be in my hair, for his mouth to be dropping harshly and relentlessly onto mine.
I wind my fingers into his crisp, white shirt and succumb to the kiss he’s just planted on me. There’s nothing else I can do. His body is strong, and his grip is tight. Leaning against him, pulling him closer, and tasting him as deeply and as ferociously as he is me are the only things I’m physically capable of doing right now.
My blood is humming through my body at a speed I didn’t know was possible, and I feel nothing but lust and adrenaline and the sweet sensation of pleasure and relief throbbing its way through me from my head to my toes. The intensity of my feelings surprise me, and when Drake pushes me against my desk and my ass perches on the edge of it, I don’t complain.
I curl my hand around the back of his neck.
I fall victim to his almost-deadly assault.
I allow his touch to brand my skin.
I sigh inside with his angry, passionate kiss that burns my lips with each touch.
I surrender—hopelessly, entirely, completely and utterly and devastatingly. To his touch, to his kiss, to his unrelenting power and dominance over my body.
And this is everything I never thought it would be. Everything I never thought would be. Drake Nash’s kissing me was too much of a thought to comprehend, but now, it’s a reality, and oh God, it’s better than a dream could ever be.
His lips are soft but harsh, and he tastes like coffee and cupcakes. Triple-chocolate torte cupcakes. Rich and decadent and temptation at its finest.
I breathe him in. Just breathe, continuing to let him kiss me, tease my skin with his fingertips, and ignite a fire so strong in the depths of my belly that I feel it pounding between my legs with every stroke of his tongue against mine.
And I don’t want him to stop.
Not ever.
I just want him here, me on my desk, his body between my legs, us separated by layers of clothing, while he kisses me like the thought of me being dead is too much for him to bear.
Not a kiss driven by anger or frustration or the tension that’s been close to snapping for days now.
Just because imagining me dead bugs him. As a person. Not as a police officer.
“Boss? Is everythin’ okay? Your cameras went off. Then I heard shouting then nothin’.”
I shove Drake away from me at the sound of Marshall’s voice and glare at the thankfully still-closed door. “I’m fine,” I say a little too breathlessly. “Detective Nash and I just needed to discuss something confidential.”
“Right. Well, I tried calling your line.”
Oops.
“I’ve recovered some of the Santiago-Westwood file,” he says.
Drake’s eyes bore into the side of my head as I jump up and adjust my pants. Running my fingers through my hair, I stroll across the room and open the door a crack. “Thank you.” I take the file. “And the other thing?”
“Nothing, boss,” he replies, adjusting his glasses. “I don’t know where Dean found that, but I can’t seem to.”
Hmmm. “Okay. Thanks, Marsh.”