No. He’d keep it quiet. But what about Tiff? Hopefully she wouldn’t bump into anyone else while I was gone and start blabbing. Hopefully she wouldn’t decide to punish me by making a quick call to the captain.
The last thing I needed was him getting wind of why I was in Montana. That asshole would call Winslow Eden faster than I could blink, just for the satisfaction of fucking my plans. Then he’d talk to the FBI.
They hadn’t connected the Quincy APB to Cormac . . . yet.
How long would it be until my secrets caught up to me? How long until the truth I was trying to keep out of Quincy made its appearance?
All it would take was a quick Google search and everyone would know my story. Lyla had been more willing than I’d ever hoped to keep my identity to herself. How long until her curiosity got the better of her? How long until my vague answers to her specific questions began to fester?
It was only a matter of time before everything collapsed.
“Fuck.” I raked a hand through my hair.
What was I doing? I should be at home. I should be doing everything in my power to clear my name. To prove to the world I was a good cop. Tiff had told me once that this obsession with Cormac would ruin my life.
Maybe she was right.
But the idea of leaving, of walking away when I’d never been so close, was unthinkable.
I just had to push through. Keep going until someone made me stop. Cormac had to pay for what he’d done.
The simmering rage, as familiar as my own skin, swept through my veins, chasing away any doubt. I walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower, lingering under the hot water until I was clean. Then I toweled off, combing my hair with my hands.
Steam billowed from the bathroom as I walked out, a towel wrapped around my waist, about to call down for room service. But before I could lift the phone from its cradle, a knock came at the door.
I froze.
There was no reason for anyone in this town to visit my room. It was probably housekeeping. Maybe another guest had the wrong room. Or maybe it was Winslow Eden, and I was fucked.
My heart climbed into my throat as I crossed the room and checked the peephole.
The breath I’d been holding rushed out of my lungs. Christ. My paranoia was getting the better of me. I twisted the knob and opened the door. “Lyla.”
“H-hi.” Those blue eyes widened as they dropped from my face to my bare chest. Inch by inch, they traveled lower, her cheeks flushing. When her gaze reached the hem of my towel, it dropped like a rock to my bare feet. “Sorry. I, um . . . sorry. I should have called first.”
I glanced past her, checking the hallway, but she was alone. “Everything okay?”
“You haven’t been to the coffee shop.”
No. I’d been avoiding her spectacularly.
Why was that again?
Damn, she was beautiful. I kept my arms pinned to my sides to keep from reaching for her. My heart thumped hard against my sternum, like a hammer pounding at a nail.
She was wearing an olive coat that hit midthigh on her black ripped jeans. Her scarf was the same shade as her jacket. Lyla’s hair was up, the dark strands piled on top of her head in a messy knot. Some of them were damp from the rain, curling at her temples. She must have walked over from the coffee shop.
Wait. How’d she known this was my room? Had she asked Eloise or Jasper?
Like she could read my mind, Lyla glanced down the hallway, then inched closer. “No one knows I’m up here.”
“How did you know this was my room?”
“I, um . . . I waited until Eloise and Jasper left, then I asked the night clerk. I told her you forgot your wallet at the coffee shop, and I’d run it up to you.”
“Ah.” The hotel clerk should have called up first, but Lyla’s last name probably went a long way in this building. That, and she was trustworthy. I doubted anyone who looked at her pretty face expected a blatant lie.
A little rebellion. God, it was sexy.
My entire life, I’d done the right thing. Where had that gotten me? Alone, in Montana, with my career in shambles.
Even after the investigation was complete, I had no delusions about keeping my job. The captain would find a way to take my badge, either by firing me or sitting me at a desk, knowing I’d eventually get fed up and quit.
All because I’d done the right thing.
Did I regret pulling the trigger? Every fucking day. But was I guilty? No.
The only thing going in my favor was this chance at finding Cormac. So fuck the rules. At this point, I was asking for forgiveness, not permission.
“Everything okay?” I asked Lyla.
“Yeah, I just . . . I’m sorry. I’m interrupting your night. I’ll leave.” She twisted, about to take a step, then stopped and turned back. “I just wanted to know if you’d found anything.”
“Not yet.” Was it foolish giving her hope? Was it foolish keeping some for myself?
“Okay.” She gave me a small smile before her gaze traveled down my chest again, lingering on my abs. Her tongue darted out to lick her lower lip, and fuck me, my cock twitched.
I sank my heels deeper into the floor, every muscle in my body locking so I wouldn’t drag her across the threshold.
“You almost kissed me. In the truck. The day we went to the river.” Her voice was soft, barely a whisper. Those blue eyes lifted to mine, and the grip on my control began to falter. “You almost kissed me, didn’t you?”
Yes. Why was she asking when we both knew the answer?
“You should have kissed me.”
Fuck. Me.
“Lyla,” I warned, forcing myself to take a step back. “You should go.” Before I buried my face in that long, silky hair and breathed in her sweet, vanilla scent. Before I caved and she did something she’d regret in the morning.
“I see his face. At night.” She stopped me before I could close the door. “Just before I fall asleep, I see his eyes. That scar. I feel his hands on my throat.”
She lifted her fingers, touching the scarf around her neck. “Once I see him, I can’t shut it off. Everyone keeps telling me what I need. My parents. My sisters. My brothers. I need to rest. I need to stay home. I need to stop working so hard. I need to heal. I’m so tired of everyone telling me what I need. All I want is to forget. For just one night, I need to forget.”
What would it be like to forget? It sounded like heaven.
Lyla wasn’t the only person with nightmares.
I should have closed the door. I should have sent her on her way.
Instead, I took a step forward.
And sealed my mouth over hers.
CHAPTER SEVEN
LYLA
Good God, this man could kiss.
My entire body went up in flames as Vance’s tongue slid against mine. Sparks cascaded across my skin and fire licked my veins.
Everything outside this room faded away. The thoughts I hadn’t been able to shut off, the worries, the fears—vanished. Poof. Gone. All that existed was Vance and this kiss.
This erotic, consuming kiss.
When I was fifteen, I’d kissed Jason Palmer. He’d been my first. It had been awkward and exciting. Fumbled and quick. But when I’d shared the details with Talia, I’d told her that when Jason kissed me, it was like being wrapped in a rainbow. At fifteen, I’d loved rainbows.
In all the years since, finding a man who’d give me those rainbows had been impossible, no matter how much I liked a guy.
But regardless, I’d kept chasing rainbows.
Years utterly wasted. This was what I should have been chasing. Sparks. Heat. Sin and sex. It was a thousand times better than any rainbow.
Vance wrapped his arms around me, hauling me into his room, the door clicking shut behind me. His tongue tangled with mine, his mouth slanting to get a deeper taste.
I melted against him, my hands sliding up that strong chest. The dusting of hair over his heart was coarse against my palms. He was so solid. Hard. Male. And damn, but I loved that he was so tall.
Even standing on the tips of my toes I wasn’t tall enough to reach his mouth. It forced him to bend, that towering frame folding over and around me.
Vance’s beard scraped against the smooth skin around my mouth. The smell of his skin, spicy and clean from his soap, filled my nose. He was head-to-toe rugged strength and honed muscle. The arms banded around my back were like chains, locking me in place.
A mewl came from my throat as Vance devoured me whole, exploring every corner of my mouth. A low groan rumbled deep in his chest, the sound of utter satisfaction. Of insatiable need.
Between us, his arousal pressed against my hip, hard and long.
Desire pooled in my center, my core clenching.
He tore his mouth away, dragging his wet lips across the line of my jaw to my ear. “Fuck, Lyla.”
“Yes,” I whispered. Please.
My hands dove into his hair, gripping the damp strands. They were as thick and soft as I’d imagined. The length made it possible for me to hold him to me, to clutch him close as he nipped at my earlobe.
I rolled my hips, rocking against his erection.
Vance hissed and let me go, his arms falling to his sides. With a hard swallow, he took a step away. Then another. His hands fisted, like he was holding himself back.