Bare It All

chapter TWENTY-FOUR

ALICE FELT ONLY nominal relief when Reese gave another humorless laugh, accompanied by a shake of his head. “I doubt that’s even possible.”

Well...good.

“No, I meant for the night.”

The reprieve left her limp until his words sank in—then her heart started tap-dancing again. “Oh.”

He opened his slacks and pulled down the zipper. “I’ll have to be gone for a while, and I’m going to need to focus.” His gaze clashed with hers. “By the way, Logan and Pepper will be here with you.”

“I don’t need babysitters.”

“I need you to have company.” He shucked off his pants. “I don’t want to worry about you while I’m gone, but I will if you’re here alone.”

Mmm. The sight of his body always inspired her, and her fingers curled into the bedcovers. “I’ve been by myself for a long time now, Reese. You know I’m capable of taking care of—”

“Me.” Naked, he stepped up to the bed and caught her knees, then opened her legs more. “You can take care of me.”

The way he displayed her made her voice die in her throat.

His fingers kneaded her knees while he studied every inch of her. “I feel almost savage. You make me feel savage.”

Meaning what? Alice didn’t understand this new mood of his. She’d seen many facets to his personality, but none this urgent, this dark. “I don’t mean to.”

“Doesn’t seem to matter if you do it on purpose or not.” He pushed her knees up—and wider apart.

Bracing herself, Alice did her best not to shy away. “Reese, tell me, did something happen?”

“You happened.” He slid his hands down to her hips, then drew her to the edge of the mattress.

Her legs dangled over the side, and she floundered, grabbing on to the covers. “Reese...”

“You keep saying my name.” He went down to his knees.

Between her legs.

“I like it.” Lifting her legs over his shoulders and cupping her bottom in his big hands, he said, “You are so f*cking beautiful.”

Good grief, he was staring at her there. It was intimidating but also exciting. Alice dropped her head back and studied the ceiling. “Is this because of what I did to you yesterday?”

“It’s because I want you. All the time, it seems.” He brushed his lips along her inner thigh, his cool hair tickling her skin, his hot breath making her shiver. “Other women hit on me, and I don’t care because you’re always in my head.”

Whoa, wait. “What?” She tried to lever up. “Other women hit on you? When?”

Nuzzling against her, Reese gave a soft growl that almost stopped her heart. “You smell incredible.”

A thundering heartbeat made her weak, so she lay back again—and felt his mouth and his tongue on her thighs, along the delicate skin of her groin, her belly.

“Oh, God.”

“Be still, honey.” Using just his fingertips, he teased over her lips, opening her, dipping in the tiniest bit, back out, in again. “You’re already wet.”

Alice squeezed her eyes shut.

He slicked two fingers into her, turning them a little, withdrawing. “Nice and wet.”

That low, rasping voice washed over her, assuring her that he enjoyed this, enjoyed holding her this way. It was both embarrassing and exciting.

She waited, her breath held, her body tense in anticipation—and his soft, hot tongue licked over her.

In her.

Sank deep.

Sensation washed over her, arching her back and lifting her off the mattress.

With a hand on her stomach Reese brought her flat again, all without breaking the deep, intimate kiss. He locked his arms around hips, keeping her still, keeping her close. After another long, soft lick, he moved up to circle her *oris with the tip of his tongue.

Alice moaned sharply, the pressure already building. He circled once more, teased and tasted, and then closed his mouth around her, sucking gently.

The exclamation of “Oh, God, oh, God” dwindled to indecipherable groans as the climax uncoiled inside her. Even against Reese’s powerful hold, her body bowed again. She couldn’t keep from rolling up to the pleasure, moving against his mouth in a rhythm that enhanced everything he did.

He was voracious, unrelenting, and oh, so incredibly patient, almost as if he didn’t want to stop, as if he could have done this for hours.

She was almost there, reaching for the release, when Reese readjusted and put his fingers inside her again, filling her up, stretching her a little.

That did it.

Crying out, she gave over to release and slowly sank back to the bed.

She hadn’t yet gotten enough breath into her lungs when Reese straightened, her ankles still up on his shoulders, and thrust into her.

It was so unexpected that she gasped...but her climax had left her wet and soft, and with a low, vibrating groan he filled her up.

Locking his gaze with hers, Reese brought her legs to the crook of his elbows and slowly lowered himself over her. Her legs ached from the position, but she felt him so deeply, loved the raw pleasure on his face, and already her sensitized nerve endings sparked again.

Opening his palms over her breasts, Reese rasped her nipples while driving into her, and Alice exploded with another orgasm.

Reese waited until the last shuddering spasm had faded, then he stilled. Eyes squeezed shut, he said, “I’m not wearing anything.”

All but insensate, Alice lifted a limp hand to his sweaty shoulder. “I know.” Still tingling all over, she tried to shift beneath him.

He sucked in a breath. “Don’t.”

“I love your body, Reese.” She loved every single inch of him.

“I don’t mean clothes.” His teeth locked and he panted. “I skipped the rubber.”

Eyes widening, Alice stared up at him. That admission brought her around some, although every muscle remained mostly unresponsive. Beyond curious but not really alarmed, she put both hands on his face.

After Rowdy’s call, he hadn’t taken the time to shave, and she loved the rough texture of his beard shadow, how aroused color slashed his high cheekbones, the way he held himself in check—just barely. “Why?”

“Didn’t want to.” He kissed her, then kissed her some more, slanting his head for the perfect fit before finally coming up for air. His big body strained against hers. “I still don’t.”

That damned emotion gathered in her throat again, choking her, making her eyes burn. She tried a smile that quivered too much, giving away her heart. “Then, don’t.”

As if he’d just been waiting for permission, Reese stopped holding back. Again he took her mouth, his kiss consuming as he pounded into her, keeping her legs pressed back so that each and every stroke entered her so deeply, she felt him against her womb.

When he suddenly threw back his head on a harsh groan, his big body drawn taut, Alice watched him, enjoying every nuance on his face, glad that she was the one here with him.

He dropped against her, his heartbeat shaking them both, heat pouring off him in waves.

Usually she relished the closeness, but this time she protested his weight with a small wiggle. “My legs are dead.”

With what seemed like a great effort, Reese struggled up and helped to untangle her legs from his thick, muscular arms. He lowered them carefully, massaging her left thigh for a moment. “Okay?”

“It was worth it,” she whispered.

Smiling, he separated from her and dropped down beside her again, but he kept a hand on her belly, his fingers spread out to encompass her from hip bone to hip bone. The seconds ticked by while they both held silent, each concentrating on breathing.

Reese moved his fingers in a gentle stroke. “You are incredibly delicious, Alice.”

She had no idea what to say about that.

Turning toward her, he rose up on one elbow. “I haven’t had sex without a condom since I was an ignorant schoolboy.”

So that meant...something, right?

Far too serious, he smoothed her hair back, brushed her temple with his thumb. His brows came together, and his voice went deeper. “Even now, after just having you, I want you all over again.”

Oh, no way. “I’m not sure I could—”

He kissed her hard and quick. “It’s insane and unsettling, and I’m not sure I like it. Other women flirt with me and it makes me want you. Rowdy fills my ear with important info about the tattoo murders, and I want you. Lieutenant Peterson agrees to go undercover, and even that, something I never expected in a million years, gets overridden by thoughts of you.”

It finally occurred to Alice: Reese was telling her how he felt.

Joy filled her, along with contentment and excitement, and she smiled at him. “I’m glad you don’t want other women.”

This laugh sounded honest, more lighthearted and sincere. He dropped flat again. “God Almighty, woman, you kill me.” He took her hand. “And, no, I don’t want other women.”

“I don’t want any other men either.” Ever, she could have added, but didn’t want to push him when he was already struggling to share with her.

“Great. Glad we got that settled.”

Alice wondered what exactly they had settled, but she only smiled and let out a breath. “So, we’re exclusive.” For now. “That’s nice.”

He, too, seemed to relax more when she didn’t start digging for more details about this new exclusivity. “I’m sorry, but I have to leave soon.” He lifted her hand to his mouth, brushed her knuckles over his lips. “I’ll be out late.”

Alice turned her head toward him. “Should I worry?”

“No, because it’s my job, and I’m good at my job.” Using her hand, he tugged her atop him. “Even when a certain sexy lady keeps shattering my thoughts and giving me mental fits.”

“Hmm.” Alice kissed his bottom lip, then his whiskery chin. “So, did you get me out of your system?”

He shook his head. “No.” He brought her close for a deeper taste, lingering, somehow almost...desperate. “But you did give me plenty of incentive to get back home safely. In the meantime, let’s go get some breakfast, and I’ll tell you what’s going on.”

* * *

REESE RAN A hand over his whiskered jaw. He still hadn’t shaved; being scruffy helped him to fit in. Parked across from the cigarette store, he waited in one of Rowdy’s cars. The Ford sedan ran well but looked like shit.

Probably because that’s how Rowdy wanted it.

With sunglasses in place, a ball cap on backward, a worn T-shirt and his most comfortable jeans, Reese drank a Coke and tried to look negligent. The hot afternoon sun baked the car. He was alert and ready but, thanks to Alice, not so tense.

And hell, even now, while on surveillance, he thought of her.

In his peripheral vision he saw Rowdy approach the tattoo parlor on the pretext of perusing a few designs in the front window. Unlike Reese, Rowdy looked the same as always—which meant he didn’t stand out the same way a cop would.

It was an attitude thing, Reese decided. Rowdy was just as watchful, but on him it looked street-smart, not authoritative. Huh. He could probably learn a few things just by observing him.

Now, where was Peterson? He glanced at his watch. Rowdy could only window shop so long before someone got suspicious.

Reese glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a woman stride down the street. The color of that short hair looked right. The height and weight, too, but...no way could that be Lieutenant Peterson in high heels, a miniscule black shirt and a barely there white blouse unbuttoned so low he thought he might see her navel if he looked close enough.

The Coke can nearly slipped out of his hand. He resisted the urge to jerk around and stare, but heaven help her, Lieutenant Margaret Peterson looked like walking, breathing, smiling sex.

Her dark sunglasses kept him from seeing her eyes, but who’d notice her eyes anyway with her cleavage on display like that? Before this moment, he hadn’t even thought about the fact that Peterson had breasts, much less that she could make them look so round and full and...

He shuddered, unsure how he felt about noticing her now.

Rowdy gave her the attention expected for any attractive woman, even going so far as to leer a little—real or fake? Hell, Reese didn’t know. But when Peterson strolled inside Killer Designz, Rowdy followed hot on her heels, his gaze zeroed in her rump in the tight skirt.

Reese broke out in a sweat, and he didn’t know if it was the heat of the sweltering sun, the high stakes of the situation or seeing Lieutenant Peterson as a sex kitten.

Oh, God. He shuddered again as he sank into his seat and tried to obliterate the image from his mind.

The sun continued to beat down. Sweat gathered on the back of his neck, between his shoulder blades, and at the small of his back where the concealed harness held his Glock.

The other gun, strapped to his ankle, wasn’t as uncomfortable in the heat.

Minutes felt like hours, and still nothing happened.

Until Reese saw two men pull up in a black SUV. A chill went up his spine, and damn it, he didn’t like it. The men glanced around as if looking for witnesses, but this wasn’t an area where concerned citizens kept watch. It was more a “see no evil” type of habitat.

Reese used his sunglasses to hide his direct gaze, turning his head down as if playing with his radio.

The two men had a similar look, one in expensive jeans, the other in khaki slacks, both in black polo shirts with Bluetooth earpieces and mirrored sunglasses. They looked like professional thugs, and unlike him, they hadn’t even attempted to blend in.

They spoke quietly to each other. One guy put in a quick cell phone call, nodded, and together they went inside.

In a nanosecond, Reese made the decision to follow. He felt it all going to hell, sensed an implosion about to occur. No way would he wait in the car when Peterson and Rowdy were likely sitting ducks.

Thank God, Logan is with Alice. If anything went wrong here, he knew she’d be okay. Logan would see to it. And with that knowledge, he managed to shove her from his mind so he could handle the situation as needed.

With professionalism, a cool head and deadly accuracy—in a freakin’ ball cap and printed T-shirt.

As he left the car, Reese tugged at his loose T-shirt, peeling it away from his damp back to ensure it kept his Glock covered. He repositioned his cap, taking it off to let air reach his head, then settling it on again. Anxiety ramping up with every beat of his heart, he strode toward the tattoo parlor.

Killer Designz had a massive front window, so even while still a dozen feet away, he spotted Peterson—he would never get used to seeing her dressed like that—talking to presumably a tattoo artist. She stood with her hip cocked out, an “I’m up for grabs” smile on her painted mouth, and her hands on a counter so she could lean forward, which effectively kept the artist’s attention glued to her rack.

Rowdy stood a few feet behind her, glancing through a book of designs. The two hoods were off to the side, pretending to peruse the body jewelry in a glass-enclosed case.

Like either of those goons had piercings.

A little bell jangled when Reese walked in. Cool air-conditioning washed over his heated skin. Rowdy glanced up and away, doing a good job of dismissing him. Peterson stalled a second but not for long. Her gaze moved to the two thugs and then away again.

Was that to let Reese know she was already aware of them? Maybe.

“Well,” she said, her voice somehow throaty, “you’re getting busy, and I don’t want to hold you up.”

The thugs, it seemed, were more concerned with Rowdy than Peterson, which made sense. Rowdy stood six-four, only a few inches shorter than Reese, with a fit physique that promised capability. In comparison, the Lieutenant was a diminutive little lady, and in that getup, she looked more like fluff than a ball-busting, high-ranking cop who’d damn near single-handedly cleaned up a very corrupt department with cold-blooded determination.

Shit. “Hey,” Reese said. “You the only one working?”

The artist nodded at him. “I’ll be right with you.”

“Great.” Hooking his sunglasses to the front of his T-shirt, Reese did his own perusing. That gave him an opportunity to surreptitiously scope out the interior in case they had to make a hasty getaway.

The lieutenant put a finger to her lips. “I like all of these,” she said of the designs shown in a free-standing swing panel display. “But I saw a really unique pattern the other day, and I think I want something like that.”

The artist watched her finger on her mouth as she dragged it back and forth over her bottom lip. “Can you describe it to me?”

“Sure. It was sort of long and narrow, with lines and numbers.”

“Numbers?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She rested her arm on the counter—which dipped her forward even farther until Reese feared she’d fall right out of the dubious constraint of that sheer blouse.

He stopped staring only long enough to realize that Rowdy and the two goons were also paying very close attention to the straining buttons on her blouse.

“Like this,” she said, and she used her damp fingertip to draw the size of the tattoo on her arm. She looked up with a slow smile. “Got anything like that?”

The guy concentrated on breathing for a few seconds. “Yeah, I think I might.” Something glittered in his eyes. Lust, yes, but more than that? “Hang on a sec while I go get a different pattern book.”

Was he onto her?

Staying loose, his ankles crossed, Reese leaned back on the counter as he flipped through a catalogue.

The artist turned and went through a curtain to a backroom.

Rowdy looked up at her. “Where you getting your tat, honey?” He used the excuse of a conversation to move closer to her—something Peterson didn’t appreciate, given how she took a step away.

Heat flushed her cheeks, and damn if that didn’t look genuine.

“I haven’t decided,” Peterson said. “Probably on my arm, but I’m thinking it might look great climbing the back of my leg, too.” She turned, presenting that snug little ass to Rowdy and the two hired hands. She tipped her hip out again and looked over her shoulder with a smile. “What do you think?”

“I think you shouldn’t mess with perfection.”

Peterson did a slow bat of her eyelashes, and that was so disturbing, Reese almost missed hearing the lock on the front door click into place. He turned fast and saw that one of the men now barred the door. The other man, mouth twisted in a sick smile of anticipation, pulled out a Desert Eagle .50 cal with a long black suppressor attached.

Reese didn’t wait for questions, for a better opportunity, or to see what Rowdy and Peterson would do. He thought only of controlling that deadly weapon.

Full force, he launched his considerable size and weight at the armed man. The complete lack of hesitation took the goon by surprise. Reese topped him by several inches and probably forty pounds, so the impact of his assault crashed them to the ground hard. As they fell, Reese heard a near-silent pop, pop and the shattering of glass.

He trusted Rowdy and Peterson to handle the other one, not that he had much of a choice.

While holding on to his wrist so that the bastard couldn’t lift the gun, Reese deliberately thunked the man’s head to the floor, then landed an elbow to his face. That slackened the guy’s grip, and Reese wrested the gun from his hand.

“You’re a dead man,” the idiot snarled, renewing his effort to get the upper hand.

Reese used the gun to slug him hard in the jaw.

The man went limp at the same time something crashed behind him.

Twisting, Reese looked over his shoulder—and Peterson was all but naked!

Somehow, while he’d had his back turned, her blouse had gotten ripped, and yes, those were pale, full breasts spilling out all right. Jacking up her skirt, she produced her own weapon—a small handgun she’d strapped to her thigh—and pointed it at the man Rowdy had in a chokehold.

Belatedly, Reese found the wherewithal to follow her gaze, but Rowdy tightened his hold and the second man went to sleep, making Peterson’s effort unnecessary.

They’d taken charge of the deadly situation with little fuss.

Neat, tidy, easy...

Until rapid-fire gunshots shattered the front window and pelted the walls and counter.

“Shit!” With alacrity, Rowdy released his man and dove for the front counter. His boots crunched over the sharp broken glass of a display case and the scattered, more gravelly glass of the big picture window.

Hunkered down in her high heels, her skirt still up and her blouse still open, Peterson scuttled ahead of him.

They both made it behind the dubious safety of the counter.

More shots zipped into the room, each one a dull ping that sent that debris scattering.

The shop was destroyed. It appeared the shooters wanted them all dead. Talk about overkill....

Utilizing professional detachment, Reese stayed plastered to a wall. As his man started to revive, he busted him again and let him slump supine to the floor. He glanced across the room, but Rowdy had choked the other one enough that he was breathing, but unresponsive even to the clamor surrounding him.

“Get over here,” Peterson snapped when several more bullets littered the interior, exploding yet another case.

“Move back.” As soon as Peterson got out of his way, Reese snatched up the Desert Eagle, ducked low and, on his haunches, joined them for cover. The damned counter wasn’t big enough to properly shield three people.

“Sit tight.” Rowdy slipped into the backroom.

Reese could just see him moving in a crouch, checking the small john, a supply closet and another backroom. He was unarmed, damn it, so he had no business playing hero.

“Rowdy.” Reese kept his voice calm and in control. “Damn it, don’t do anything stupid.”

Rowdy returned, his expression grim. “We have to get out of here. The artist is long gone, run off out a back door.”

If the owner could leave, that meant others could come in. Great, this whole f*ck-up just kept getting better and better.