She stared into his blues eyes, she gazed at his handsome face, and she saw Tucker.
Tucker. Tucker's desire. Tucker's strength.
"Yes."
"Fucking, yes." He kissed her again. A kiss that was a little wilder. A little rougher. Even hotter. His hand pushed between their bodies. He yanked open the snap of her jeans and jerked down the zipper. She barely heard the faint hiss of sound. Then his fingers were shoving the jeans down her legs and she kicked out of them and her shoes.
His hand slid under her underwear, coming up to stroke her, to thrust into her, and she shot onto her toes as her body tensed.
"Dawn?"
Her eyes stayed open and on his. "More."
He smiled at her. His dimple flashed.
She still only saw Tucker. The desire she felt for him was reflected in his eyes.
"I'll give you everything." His hand pulled back, and he thrust two fingers into her again. His thumb raked over her clit, drawing a ragged moan from her.
Desire shouldn't build so fast. Need shouldn't explode with a touch. But it did.
And she found she wasn't afraid. She was grateful. The passion she felt for him could make her forget everything else in the world. The killer. The death. The pain. For a few precious moments, all of that faded away.
Her panties ripped as he yanked them down. She didn't care. Her nails were raking over his chest. Her breasts were tight, her nipples aching, and she wanted his mouth on her.
///
She wanted-
Yes. He'd taken one nipple into his mouth. He was licking and sucking and her hips were riding his hand. She could feel her orgasm building. Her body was tensing and she struggled to catch her breath. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.
His thumb pressed over her clit again, dragging a moan from her, but then he pulled back his hand.
"Right here," he growled. "Right here."
They were to the side of the window. No one would be able to see them.
He let her go just long enough to put on a condom, then he was back. He lifted her up, holding her so easily, then he drove into her. He filled her completely. Time seemed to freeze. She was staring into his eyes and Dawn couldn't look away. Her legs curled around his hips, he held her tightly with his fingers around her waist.
He withdrew, only to plunge deep again, sliding his cock right over her sensitive clit. Her breath came faster.
Withdraw.
Thrust.
The tension mounted inside of her.
He kissed her.
Withdraw.
Thrust.
Her nails clawed at him. She wanted faster. Harder.
He gave it to her. His hips drove against her as he plunged, as his control seemed to break away. He gave her everything that she needed and the pleasure hit her with a fury. It crashed over her and made her whole body tremble. Her mouth left his as she cried out his name.
He kept thrusting. The pleasure rolled through her, and then he was there. She felt his climax as it hit him. His muscles tightened. His grip turned almost bruising.
"Dawn." His gaze was bright with primitive pleasure. Lust. Release.
Possession.
* * *
BOWEN PARKED IN front of the apartment building in downtown Baton Rouge. Lights were on, gleaming from the second floor, and his intel told him that floor was home to the woman he needed to interview.
Catherine Peters, Heather Hartley's former college roommate. He'd been chasing leads for most of the evening and turning up jackshit. Hopefully, his night would be better. Because Catherine was the last name on his list, and if she didn't reveal any information for him...
Baton Rouge is a bust.
He walked toward the building and headed inside. He took the stairs quickly, frowning at the lack of security in the place. He always noticed things like that-side effect of the job. Most people walked around, thinking they were safe. Thinking that a flimsy lock on the door would keep monsters out.
They were wrong.
In moments, he was standing before Catherine's door. He lifted his hand and knocked. He could hear the pad of footsteps from inside, the creak of a floor...but the door didn't open.
He stared straight into the peephole. "My name is FBI Special Agent Bowen Murphy." He lifted his ID and badge, making sure both would be visible for the person on the other side of that peephole. "I need to speak with Catherine Peters."
The door opened, just a few inches, and a woman with short, reddish-blond hair peered at him. "FBI? Let me see that badge."
He gave her the ID. She studied it in silence a moment, then handed it back to him.
"Why does the FBI want to talk to me?"
He glanced around the hallway. No one else was out there. Bowen focused on Catherine once more. "I need to ask you a few questions about your former LSU roommate, Heather Hartley."