Unfair Advantage

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO





Roarke set his scotch on the table beside hers. He noted her increased respiration, the mercurial flux between desire and primitive feminine instinct to resist possession. It represented ages old war between body and mind.



Making a snap decision, he turned, walked into the living room. Only the small lamp in the corner lit the room. He heard her follow. Knew he’d thrown her off balance. Roarke took the remote from the coffee table, clicked on the stereo. The ten-disk changer picked up The Eagles.



He turned. Dani stood just inside the room. She looked uncertain, still mutinous. Calculating how far to push, he held out his hand. Dani came slowly closer, didn’t reach for him. Roarke slid his hand around her small waist and pulled her hips against his. She stared up, seeming determined to feign indifference.



He leaned down, kissed each corner of her mouth, touch his tongue to her lower lip. She inhaled and opened for him. A tremendous wave of tenderness swept him. He delved into her mouth, tasting her, remembering the way her body had contracted around his cock.



She trembled when he slid his hand up under her shirt. The front clasp of her bra opened with a little pop. She made a soft sound of pleasure when he stroked her hardening nipple. His erection flexed against his jeans.



Roarke teased her, gently stroking the peaks of her breasts, caressing the full under curves. He kissed her until she returned it, until her hands went beneath his shirt.



He knew what she wanted, and intended to make her admit it. “Tell me.”



“Make me scream, Larkin.”



“Roarke,” he reminded, blood beating in his brain.



“Roarke.”



He stripped off her clothes. She cried out when his mouth found neck, knee, breast or belly. She let him put her on the couch and part her long thighs. He opened the delicate flesh, gently tormented her swollen sweetness with his mouth. Her nails raked his shoulders. She panted and shimmied. He held down her hips and brought her to the edge of climax. Then he opened his jeans, pushed them and his briefs out of the way.



He’d stashed a condom under the cushions earlier. Opened it and the instant he had it on, he buried his erection in her hot body. She clawed him like a wildcat, said things that made his gut clench and cock ache. He pounded into her with almost mindless hunger. Dani screamed, he swallowed it with his mouth and let his orgasm rip through him like lightning.





Dani let him carry her to the bedroom. He stripped himself, went into the bathroom, started the shower and returned for her. He put her under the warm spray. She leaned back her head to let the water flower over her hair. He bit her neck, raked his teeth lightly down to her shoulder.



In a haze of pleasure she allowed herself to give in to a sort of sexual bondage. He played with her, squeezing her breasts, teasing the nipples with his mouth and hands. He rubbed his growing erection over her water-slick belly. Roarke turned her so the jetting water pelted her chest. After so much stimulation the sensation caused her to gasp.



He adjusted her back and forth so it struck where he liked. Dan could feel the wetness inside her flowing. She groaned. Let the erotic game continue.



Roarke washed them both, cut off the shower and dried them as well. During the latter, his fingers found every tingling, damp hot spot. By the time he rolled a condom down his enormous erection and stretched out on the bed, Dan trembled all over. She crawled up his long body, straddled his hips and impaled herself.



They both shuddered. She was so close. Before he could stop her, Dani reached between their bodies and put herself over the edge. He growled deep in his chest. Dan watched his dark face as the contractions squeezed him. As they gradually diminished, she began to ride him. She milked him with her inner muscles, changed depth and angles of penetration.



Roarke’s monumental self-control became strained. He started to change their position. She leaned down, kissed him, whispered, “Let me make myself come again. On you like this.”



She swiveled her hips. He groaned, caught them in his big hands, but did not restrict. It caused a keen pulsation inside her. Her excitement built, fueled by his loss of restraint.



Time fell away. Only the two of them existed. Her climax began to build. Sweat beaded on his chest and throat. Dani let go. Ground and shimmied. He held her to him as he went over the edge. Her body spasmed with such force she lost her breath.



“Jesus,” he growled. Gripped in the vise of her body.



She collapsed on his chest. His arms cocooned her and she felt alarmingly content to stay in them.



Dani woke from a drowse hearing Larkin answer his cell in the kitchen. She hadn’t realized he’d left the bed.



“Yeah, I’m home.” A pause. Major tone change. “How the fuck did they find out?”



Dani climbed from bed, went to pee, wash her hands and face. She used his comb to untangle her hair. It had dried wavy. An uncomfortable sensation low in her belly made her go to the living room and dress in a hurry.



“I’ll be at the house in thirty.” He clicked off the phone.



She watched him lay it on the table beside their still full glasses. He’d put on his jeans, hadn’t buttoned them. His gray briefs and the thin line of hair descending from his navel showed.



She saw tension, anger on his face. When he stopped in front of her, she took his hand. Words and images raced. “Something bad.”



Larkin brought her hand to his lips. Kissed it, then her mouth. “Peta Seymour broke everything on the eleven o’clock.”





A blistering wave of anger scorched Brand. He watched the news. They’d found several of his aliases.



Goddamn it!



Damn it!



He watched alias and address information paraded before the bovine masses. Observed his outer universe collapse like a star.



Brand flipped off the television, slammed the remote against the wall. The battery hold cover flew off and pieces showered to the carpet. The news said only he faced charges of identity and real estate fraud. Plus they wished to question.



No doubt the police had anticipated setting traps for him at his other places. Maybe the Seymour bitch did him a favor. Otherwise, he might have blundered into one.



Now what?



Mayan’s face came to mind.



Shit.



She had gone out before ten to workout and have a facial at a twenty-four hour city spa. If she saw this …



He considered the repercussions. Schooled his responses and decided to take this as a cue. For a year he’d considered relocating to Amsterdam.



Time to go.







Mayan finished her session in the spray-on tan booth . She always kept it light rather than risking a fake color. As she emerged, two female attendants spoke between themselves.



“He’s, like wealthy this guy the police are looking for.”



“Handsome, too.”



“His wives and girlfriends are probably calling each other up.”



Giggles. “Maybe they were shopping together.”



Mayan walked passed them to the main desk, paid and walked through the signature, carved Spanish doors of Fresh.



She took a cab, thinking how in a week or so she’d have her own car. That idea caused her to smile. Doubts had plagued.



Still, everything seemed fabulous.







Dave spent a long time tracking his uncle’s illegal online activity. He had tossed his cookies more than once. Hacked on levels he would have previously considered impossible. The process of making a copy of the tape and finding his Uncle Raymond’s secret online site had wrecked his nerves.



Terrified his uncle might know he’d squealed, yet resolved to have a voice, Dave gathered his evidence, mailed it overnight insured to NYPD. He returned home, typed an email to making them aware what to expect.





Roarke had Ashlyn come in a taxi to pick up Dani. He drove her to the arranged spot, made certain she got safely into the cab, and that nobody hung around to see, then hauled ass.



One thing was for sure. Someone in the department had a major problem keeping secrets. And now the killer would know what they knew. His face might cause him problems running. Then again, seeing the picture the public would recognize might help him better disguise.



Roarke cursed under his breath.



Images of small broken bodies filled his brain.



It would take serious maneuvering and fast work to fish this out of the toilet.