Something Wicked. Julie Leto

were in Philly?”

      She stood and, with one quick flick, undid the top button on her low-slung jeans. She would have kicked off her boots, but she had some serious misgivings about the stained carpet.

      “And in Detroit and in Boston,” she replied.

      She walked closer to the window and hoped that her silhouette against the neon slats of the blinds pushed the right button. They’d been apart for so long and even then, she hadn’t known him that well. But if she could just connect with him, get under his skin, she might be able to lure him back to Chicago. To his friends. To his old life. Out of danger from both the supernatural world and his own self-destruction.

      Grabbing the hem of her layered tank tops, she lifted them over her head. She was wearing nothing now but a lacy black bra and unfastened jeans with the edges of her panties peeking out from between the teeth of the zipper.

      “Don’t do this,” he said, his voice more pleading than commanding.

      She slipped her hands between her jeans and her hips, tugging the fabric down a few inches, making sure he had a good look at the black lace she wore underneath. “Don’t do what?”

      Though she hardly trusted her normally clumsy self to step forward when her nerves were jangling like wind chimes in a thunderstorm, she made the attempt and succeeded. She was still three feet away from him, but a warring mixture of desire and restraint clouded his eyes. His jaw was set so tight she thought the bone might crack.

      “Don’t…” Rick whispered, “try and seduce me.”

      His tone faltered. The words came out half as an admonishment and half as request. And she knew very well which half she was going to listen to.

      She licked her lips and closed the rest of the distance between them in three purposeful steps.

      “I’m not only going to try, Rick. I’m going to succeed.”

      4

      RICK CLOSED HIS EYES, but Josie, who smelled of musk and sandalwood and had turned on the full force of her inner seductress, was impossible to shut out. And why should he try so hard? Hadn’t he spent the past six months dreaming about her, fantasizing about her, casting her as the star in hot, wet dreams that had left him to take sexual matters into his own hands more times than he had since he’d been a teenager?

      Why attempt to resist her? With all the darkness in his life, she was a beacon of light. God knows he needed the light. Maybe a kiss, a taste, would satisfy him enough so he could send her away before she got hurt.

      He grabbed her by the arms and swung her onto the bed. She squealed in surprise, but he squelched the sound with a hard kiss. Without hesitation, her angel-soft lips opened to him and he thrust his tongue into her mouth, reveling in the sweet flavors of mint and spring water.

      Was it enough to cleanse him?

      His mind flew back to the first time he’d kissed her in the kitchen of her apartment, where she’d struggled to find matching wineglasses and a bottle of merlot. The space had been tight, and the contraction of his insides had been tighter. He’d wanted her so badly, but he’d resisted. Josie was a mystery to him—a free-spirited woman who contradicted everything in his ordered and ordinary world.

      That, at least, hadn’t changed.

      And neither had the intensity of their kiss. He loved how her tongue sparred with his, how her moans grew louder when he pressed harder against her. Kissed deeper. With each slip of control, his pleasure intensified, as if she’d come here specifically to wash the darkness from his soul.

      He pulled away, but she hooked her hands around his neck and drove her fingers tight into his hair.

      “Don’t,” she said.

      “I’m trying to stop,” he said, his voice thick and raspy from the past twenty-four hours of trying to forget. He’d smoked, drunk, showered, then drunk some more. He’d worked out, using the hotel mattress as a punching bag, working himself into a sweat that had required another shower and another round with the bottle. And still, the memory of the shadow that had tried to invade his body would not recede. How could he let that filth anywhere near Josie?

      She shook her head emphatically. “No, I mean…don’t stop.”

      Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t resist inhaling deeply, filling himself with her scent. So spicy. So clean. So devoid of the stench of supernatural evil.

      “I can’t do this, Josie. It’s not fair to—”

      “I wouldn’t have made it this far if I couldn’t take care of myself,” she insisted, her blue eyes bright with resolve. “I know what I want. I know what you want. Take it, Rick. Nothing is stopping you, least of all me.”

      Her smile, so sweet yet so seductive, injected a joy into his soul he hadn’t realized until now he desperately craved. God, he wanted her. Had wanted her. From the first minute she’d stumbled into him at the police station to the charged evening he’d spent in her apartment, he’d fought against the instinct to seduce this woman he barely knew. Unable to resist a second time, he kissed her again, nearly delirious with the clean flavors of her mouth and the sweet silkiness of her tongue. Her pleasured moans goaded him while the lace of her bra chafed against his bare chest, driving him mad with wanting.

      Her mouth was soft, but her tongue was demanding. In seconds, they established a wild rhythm that pumped his blood with lust. She tore at his hair, then dragged her nails down his back, raking his flesh and awakening needs he’d suppressed for months. The lamplight in the cheap hotel wasn’t the best, but when he finally managed to pull away from Josie, he saw her with surprisingly clear eyes, his vision focused solely on her instead of what might be coming at him from behind.

      “You’re just as beautiful as I remember,” he said, stroking his fingers from her chin to the hollow between her breasts, then lower, lingering at the laced edge of her panties.

      This time when she speared her fingers into his hair, the tug was gentle, teasing. Before she spoke, she swallowed thickly, drawing his attention to the necklace she wore around her neck.

      Bloodstone. Smart girl. Six months ago, he might have thought himself capable of protecting her with just a badge and a service revolver. Now, he knew differently.

      “I was hoping you hadn’t forgotten me,” she said.

      He kissed her longer this time, slower, allowing the enchantment of her pure, feminine need to push the fear and anger that had driven him all these months further away. Just for a few hours. Minutes. Seconds.

      “For the life of me,” he said, “I can’t remember why we waited before.”

      “Neither can I, but don’t wait now.”

      He did as she commanded, tugging her jeans off her body and allowing his towel to fall to the ground. Against the stiff white sheets he’d lifted from a nearby discount store to replace the ratty rags he’d found covering the lumpy mattress, her skin looked deliciously pink. Her lingerie, while evocative and sensual, hampered her sweet beauty more than it enhanced it. Josie did not belong in black. In every fantasy he’d entertained since the night he left Chicago, she’d worn crisp, clean white or sensuous, calming blue to match her incredibly expressive eyes.

      He removed her inky bra, strap by strap, then hook by hook, until her pale breasts were free for him to touch and taste.

      He did both, flicking his tongue over her nipples and then watching with keen fascination as the skin swelled and hardened. He flicked again, this time eliciting a tremulous coo from her lips.

      Humming his appreciation, he took her right breast fully into his mouth and, with his hand, pleasured the other until she writhed beside him, her thighs tight. He smoothed his palms over her tense flesh until she relaxed and her legs drifted apart to make room for his wandering touch.

      Figuring