"I'm glad we cleared that up."
"Do you understand me, Nevada? I'm not walking away. I thought I could, but I can't and I don't want to."
I brushed his cheek with my fingertips. "What makes you think I would let you go?"
He pulled me to him, and I climbed over, onto his lap. He kissed my neck. Magic swirled along my spine, a heated bliss. I wanted him between my legs. I wanted him inside . . .
There were blue and red lights behind us.
Rogan growled.
A cop was walking toward us, a flashlight in his hand.
I crawled back into my seat and put my hand over my face.
Rogan rolled down the window. "Yes, Officer?"
"Is your vehicle disabled, Mr. Rogan?"
"No," Rogan growled.
"Then you should move along. The road is dark, and you're presenting a safety hazard."
Wow. Apparently we'd run into the one cop in Houston who wasn't intimidated by the Butcher of Merida.
"Ms. Baylor," the cop said. "DA Jordan says hello."
Oh.
"Please move your vehicle for the safety of the public." The cop stepped back. He showed no signs of leaving.
Rogan rolled the window up, we both put our seat belts on, and we pulled back into traffic.
Lenora Jordan, the Harris County District Attorney. When I was in high school, she was my hero. Incorruptible, uncompromising, she served as the last line of the public's defense against crime, especially when committed by the Houses. The first time I saw her was on TV, years ago; she walked down the steps of the courthouse, where a raging fulgurkinetic Prime wrapped in a web of lightning refused to be arraigned on charges of child molestation. Lenora strode right up to him, summoned chains from thin air, and bound him, right there, in front of all the cameras. And then she dragged him into court.
I never thought I would meet her, but I did. She was everything she seemed, and she scared the living daylights out of me. Even Rogan treated her with the kind of respect one affords to a hungry tiger.
"Was that a love tap on the shoulder?" I asked. "To tell me she knows we're filing?"
"Yes. Come home with me tonight."
"I can't. A lot has happened and I need to be with my family. They'll have questions."
"I'll wait."
"I don't know how long it will take."
"I'll wait," he repeated.
I would give almost anything to go with him. He would take me to his bedroom, strip off my clothes, and love me until I couldn't even think anymore. I would fall asleep wrapped in him, with his muscular arm around me, and his hot hard chest pressing against my back, and in the morning we'd wake up and make love again. Saying no hurt. Physically hurt. "Rogan . . ."
"Nevada?" My name rolling off his lips was a caress.
"I just turned my family's life upside down. Everything is in shambles. I need to be there tonight. If one of my sisters knocks on my door at two in the morning, I want to be there to reassure her. If my mom isn't able to go to sleep and comes checking on me in the middle of the night, I want to be there. And I can't do that if I'm over at your place, and you can't be at mine, because you make me moan and scream, and that's not what my family needs to hear."
His face told me he didn't like it.
"What are you thinking?"
"I'm planning to kidnap you until the trials," he said.
"We've tried that, remember?"
"I had the air-conditioning fixed in the basement," he said.
"Is there a nice chain waiting for me?"
"No," he said. "But I do have some handcuffs."
"No," I told him. "Okay, maybe. Who'll be wearing the handcuffs?"
He grinned.
We reached the warehouse.
"I have to go," I told him. I didn't want to.
He opened his mouth and I put my finger on his lips. "Please don't say my name. If you say my name, I won't be able to get out of the car."
He smiled against my finger. It was a wicked male smile, and it made him look both handsome and evil, like a demon.
"I mean it, Rogan. Don't say my name, don't kiss me good night, and don't look at me . . . yes, like that. Don't look at me like that. I have to go investigate your ex-fiancée's husband's disappearance tomorrow, and I need sleep."
I still couldn't move from the seat. He pulled at me like a magnet. It wasn't the spectacular sex and it wasn't his looks, although both helped. It was the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn't watching him. Like I was the center of his universe. When he looked at me like that, I would do anything for him. It scared me that I could love someone that much, so I fought like crazy to keep every shred of independence I had left.