Shift Happens(3)

When the doors to the lift closed, Clint used a card to access his floor. I detested this moment the most. I needed my target hot and heady with his blood shunted to the lower half of his body. I didn’t need or want him to think.

Time to put on my big-girl-acting panties. Turning toward him, I smiled slowly.

Clint raised a brow. “How impatient are you?”

I slammed him against the wall, making the elevator shake in answer. Kissing him roughly, I said, “Consider this foreplay.”

I didn’t worry about being gentle. This big boy liked it rough. His tight grip on my ass hurt and my lips swelled from his teeth and hard kisses. He grabbed a handful of hair at the nape of my neck and pulled. My head snapped back to see his hooded, hot gaze. His other hand pulled me against his body. The hard ridge of his pants, tented from his arousal, pressed against me. He started to grind.

Dry humping in an elevator. Just another day at work.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. I pushed Clint off my body with a fake show of modesty and straightened my dress. It didn’t worry me that I acted out of character. He wouldn’t notice at this point and I hated swapping spit with targets. Clint chuckled and pulled me out after him.

“The penthouse?” I asked. I already knew which room he stayed in. Despite the seedy state of the bar in the basement, the hotel had nice rooms, very nice rooms, at very high prices. Even the rich liked to slum and this establishment provided the perfect environment on site.

Clint’s smug smile answered my question and he unlocked the door by swiping his card. Swinging it open, he gestured for me to enter before him.

“Nice,” I said and walked in. The floor plans I’d downloaded from the internet earlier this evening had given me a precise idea of the layout. With my arms stretched out wide, I twirled around the room. Nothing wrong with feeding his ego. The more he thought about himself, the less he thought of me. I headed toward the balcony.

“What are you doing?” Clint asked.

“Opening the patio doors,” I said, preparing my escape route.

“Not exactly large enough for what I had in mind.” He undid his tie, pulled it off, and nodded toward the enormous king sized bed in the middle of the room.

“I like fresh air,” I said.

“Are you warm?” He stalked toward me.

“I will be.”

He smirked and pulled me toward the bed. “What about people hearing?”

I licked my lips. His attention flickered to them and focused. I knew what he wanted me to ask—hearing what? Instead, I said, “I like the idea of people hearing me scream.” I leaned up and bit his plump lower lip. “You are going to make me scream, aren’t you?”

“You have no idea.” He cradled my face and kissed me, smashing his mouth hard against mine. Of course, I had an idea. Some of the women that went upstairs with him during my daytime surveillance needed medical attention. The SRD might have their own reasons for wanting this bastard dead, but after watching him all day, I rapidly developed my own.

He pulled at the clingy material of my red dress until it started to tear at the seams.

“Rip it,” I murmured as I dragged my teeth along his neck. “Make it hurt.”

He smiled and jerked the dress hard. It broke apart immediately, no doubt leaving red marks where the cloth bit into my skin. I winced into his chest, then tore his shirt from his body—a classic pain diversion technique I picked up on the job years ago. Clint clawed at my bra. I let him. I needed to be naked and he needed to be distracted.

Pounding at the door froze us both.

“Clint,” a deep voice boomed. “You fucking idiot. I’m coming in.”

My pulse jumped in my throat. Crap! I didn’t want any witnesses. Clint better tell this guy to get lost. If he didn’t… I pinched the bridge of my nose. Now was not the time for a headache.

“I’m busy, Wick. Go away,” Clint snarled over his shoulder.

“I got a call from the boss. We have to leave. Now,” Wick growled. “Either you open this door, or I’m breaking it down.”

My heart ramped up a bit in my chest. No! If he took Clint away, I’d never get another chance at him. I’d have to do this now, and fast.

Clint and I sighed in unison, but for entirely different reasons.

“Didn’t want an audience?” Clint asked. He squeezed my breast, leaving angry red marks where his fingertips dug in, before turning toward the door.

“You have no idea,” I purred, admiring his back. Nice and exposed. My headache instantly dissipated.

It happened quickly. The flash of pain and the familiar coil of muscle and fur rippled through my body as I shifted, my change to a large mountain lion complete when the door burst open.