For nearly a week they had shared a two-bedroom Baltimore suburb condo with a fenced-in area for their dogs. Other than the three hours each day she spent commuting to teach Shajuanna’s eldest daughter the basics of Agility, there was precious little for her to do.
Lattimore was happy she’d made a connection so quickly but she was limited, so far, to one hour of training in a ring set up in a side yard of the Collier estate. Shajuanna wasn’t even there, having flown out to L.A. for business, Leila said. No chance for her to better infiltrate the Collier inner circle. In fact, she hadn’t actually seen inside the kennel where the Collier dogs lived and bred. They wouldn’t get to start using a dog until Leila had mastered the basics, so she wouldn’t confuse her pet when she began training it.
Meanwhile, she and Scott had tried to find reasons to stay busy and excuses to avoid one another. But doing nothing was tearing at both their tempers.
For instance, right this minute she was about two seconds from hurling her brush at Scott’s head and ordering him out of the bathroom he did not have the decency to vacate.
Cole picked up her brush again, her gaze never straying from his reflection in the mirror. He looked pissed off. She was, too. Playing house! Whose dumb idea was that? Why didn’t Sam and Noel have jobs? They needed reasons not to be constantly together. Only idiots wouldn’t have known the sexual tension couldn’t be infinitely denied. Something in this arrangement needed to change.
“Lattimore called. There’s an Agility meet in Baltimore on Saturday.”
He had come up behind her, so close she could feel the heat from his body on her bare skin. But he didn’t touch her.
“Why didn’t he call me?” Cole frowned at him in the mirror. “The competition ring is my assignment. I should be the one he calls about that.”
Scott met her glare in the glass. “He called me because I’m the task force leader.”
“Oh, sir. Sorry, sir.” She gave him a little mocking salute.
Scott’s gut tightened as he absorbed her disrespectful gesture. He’d forced men twice her size by sheer determination and force of personality to respect his authority. But, hell. This wasn’t about control or authority, or respect for the badge. This was about the woman inside the too brief red lace undies.
During the past six days, he’d burned through his lifetime supply of honorable intentions.
He had tried to stay the hell away from her. But that wasn’t working. He was in a foul mood all the time, and it got worse every time she walked into the room. Because. Because.
He wasn’t that good. He wasn’t that honorable. What he was was in heat for her. Constantly.
Maybe that wasn’t entirely her fault. He wasn’t gelded by guilt. She might as well learn that he had limits and she, just by being Cole, had pushed him way past them for the last time.
She was daring him to touch. He could see it in the steadiness of her gaze and the slight uptilt of her chin when he moved in behind her. Didn’t she already know how dangerous an idea it was to wave a red flag—particularly a red-lace-panties flag—under his nose? Maybe she needed a reminder.
He leaned in, angling his head so that his lips came within a fraction of an inch of the tender place where her neck curved into the beginning of her shoulder. “You smell good.”
He saw her lids flutter before she released the brush and braced herself with both hands on the countertop. Was she expecting the touch of his hot mouth on her? It didn’t happen that way. It was going to happen his way.
Their gazes met in the mirror. “You look even better.”
He reached around and touched her, his forefinger sinking into the shallow well of her belly button before he rimmed it.
Cole’s belly quivered, as did all parts farther down.
“Was all this primping for me? I promise to be very, very appreciative.”
His voice was pitched so low it was little more than a deep breath of rough air across her shoulder. And then the impression of his lips was on her right shoulder blade. He had a hard-on so impressive she had to feel it pressing against the back of her lacy panties, in search of its target.
The shocking heat of arousal sped through Cole, lighting up every pulse point in her body before rolling down to lodge deep between her thighs.
He glanced up at the mirror, daring her to look away. “Last time we did things Noel’s way. This time it’s Sam’s turn.”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. He had slipped a hand down the front of her panties. She closed her eyes and stopped thinking as his hand sank into the warmth behind the lace.
He pumped his hips against her a little. She bucked forward, and his fingers slid home. He watched in the mirror as her mouth opened in an O of desire then her lids fluttered against her flushed cheeks.