Protecting What's His(14)
His eyes flared. “Was your performance for me alone or every man with a goddamn pair of eyes?”
He expected her to talk when his mouth was moving to her neck, sucking the sensitive spot underneath her ear? Expert lips traced a path down to her collarbone and back up, and he bit the tender area with a low growl.
“Is it all a tease or do you ever let them take you home?”
Ginger rolled her head to the side, begging for his lips to return to her neck. The hand plastered to her ass kneaded relentlessly, keeping her moving against his erection with intensifying friction. If he would just let her move her hips a little, she would come, even with her shorts on, but his hand and hips controlled her every action. She made a sound of frustration.
His breath rasped out harshly against her ear, punctuated by each thrust that pinned her to the shaking door. Knowing she affected him so powerfully in return made her dizzy. When his mouth found hers once more, she bit his lower lip then licked it, meeting his eyes under heavy lids. He responded by devouring her mouth on a loud groan, sucking her tongue until she writhed against him.
When Derek abruptly ceased his calculated torture, Ginger protested, seeking his mouth once more. He resisted.
Levering her against the door, he ran skilled hands down her thighs and hooked his arms under her knees, pulling them up until they almost reached his shoulders. Then his hips pressed in and upward. Hitting her right where she needed it. Ginger’s head fell back against the door.
“Derek.”
“Answer me.”
She couldn’t remember the question. Her breath raced through her lips. Release hovered just within her reach. “No! I don’t go home with any of them. Ever.”
Her sincere answer appeared to calm him somewhat, but then he stepped back, dropped her legs and let her slide down his body. They both groaned at the contact. Ginger wanted to cry with frustration and nearly did so, but then the reality of their situation hit her full force. She’d been two seconds from letting a near-stranger screw her in a public hallway. Although this type of reckless behavior was out of character for her, it eerily reminded her of something. Someone.
Her mother.
Bitter anger and shame swept through her. Pushing against Derek’s chest, she let him see the full force of her fury. “And after that performance, what the hell makes you any different from the drunken assholes at the bar? You’re exactly like them. The only difference is I had the bad fortune of moving next door to you.”
His momentary calm evaporated and he backed her once more against the door, grasping her chin in his hand. “The difference is, you don’t want any of those men to fuck you. But you want me to fuck you very badly. Don’t you, Ginger?”
“No.”
Laughing darkly, one big hand dropped between her legs. He palmed her mound and squeezed, then ran two seeking fingers along the seam of her shorts where the telltale wetness gave her away. “Liar.”
“I hate you.”
His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Would you like me to prove what a liar you are?”
“No, I’d like you to give me my keys so I can get the hell away from you.”
She snatched the keys from his outstretched hand and unlocked the door. Once inside, she threw the deadbolt and leaned back against the door, breathing heavily through her nose.
A moment later she heard heavy footsteps move down the hall.
Sinking down onto the floor, Ginger quickly realized three things.
One: She’d completely underestimated the effect Derek had on her. He possessed the ability to make her completely forget everything but him. The effect he had on her body. Valerie had forgotten herself one too many times and Ginger wouldn’t follow suit. No way in hell.
Two: He’d somehow stolen the phone numbers from her back pocket without her knowledge.
Three: She needed a vibrator. A powerful one.
Chapter Seven
Derek stared at the files on his laptop screen, unease settling over him. He hadn’t been able to shake the feeling there was more to Ginger leaving Nashville than a neglectful mother, and now that he’d done a little more digging, it appeared his intuition might be right. According to Valerie’s most recent possession charge, she’d been bailed out of jail by an H. Devon. He’d quickly searched the name in the Nashville area.
In addition to a hefty rap sheet of his own, Haywood Devon owned several strip clubs in the Nashville area. Suspicion of drug trafficking and prostitution inside his clubs looked like it kept the Nashville police department on Devon’s doorstep every few weeks.
If Haywood Devon was the type of character Ginger’s mother associated with on a regular basis, he didn’t doubt she’d been afraid of more than a missed meal. Men like Devon didn’t bail anyone out of jail without expecting a favor in return. When those favors didn’t come through, the families of his debtors paid the price.