Boiling Point (Crossing the Line #3)

Austin dipped and fused their bodies together. The leather of her top felt incredible against his chest, her skirt brushing his belly. More. Need more. He needed them naked from the waist down, barriers of clothing torn away. With Polly wedged between him and the wall so tightly, the ownership he felt multiplied. Or maybe she owned him. Both possibilities were blinding in their perfection. He grasped the knee of her leg still wrapped around his waist, letting his fingers slide down to her hip where they could twist in her thong. She liked that…her breath shuddering out, body writhing. Giving her any form of pleasure made him feel exultant, so he twisted the lace again.

Her response was to rip the T-shirt from his mouth and demand a kiss with her eyes. Her undulating body. Austin was frantic to oblige her, stamping his lips down onto hers with a growl that only intensified when she moved her * in a whip-tight circle, rocking his world on its axis. The thong ripped in his hand, but he barely noticed because Polly’s hands slid into the back of his jeans, tugging him closer into the endless temptation of her body. Christ. Jesus Christ.

“You going to spread your thighs for me against the wall, babe?” His tongue swept into her mouth, tasting, consuming. He breathed for the both of them, refusing to stop the kiss. Lost to it. Starbursts blinked behind his eyes, warning him he needed oxygen or he might have gone on devouring her, fucking her through the rough denim of his jeans forever. “Haven’t been with anyone in a while. Is that right? Neither have I, because I’ve been waiting for this.” His hand found her backside and kneaded the smooth flesh, lifting her off the floor and onto his cock, making them both moan. “You want to order me around? Tell me what to do with my cock, where to put it, how fast to pump it? God, babe, don’t make me wait any longer.”

When her body stilled, horror dawned. Sod it. He’d completely dropped character. Totally cracked. Impossible. Only it wasn’t impossible, because Polly had filled his head, refusing to allow anything else in, including his goddamn conscience. Even now, he was praying she would be as taken by need as him and keep going. Let him give her pleasure. God, he was an inexcusable bastard. Her eyes were half mast as she looked up at him, mouth still red from his kiss. Seconds from losing consciousness. No. He’d never justified his actions to anyone, but it was imperative at that moment. Unfortunately, she moved before he figured out what the hell to say.

Keeping her attention locked on him, she reached into his right pocket and pulled out the tea bag he’d placed there. “Motherfucker.”

Austin caught her just before she could hit the floor. With her final expression of betrayal imprinting itself on his memory to haunt him for life, Austin tucked Polly gently into his side, bringing her feet off the ground as he slid through the emergency exit, lifting her into his arms with ease when they landed in the alley.

“I’m so sorry, sweet.”





Chapter Four


Polly sat at her usual Denny’s booth, palms flat on the table, staring down at the tea bag in front of her. The waitress had brought her a cup of hot water and left, but that had been half an hour ago, so steam no longer rose from the mug. She didn’t remember her three-block walk to the diner, nothing really beyond waking up sprawled on her couch with the tea bag still clutched in her fist.

This. This was what stark humiliation felt like. After what she’d seen her fathers go through at the hands of Charles Reitman, she’d sworn never to be had. Never to be conned or have her decisions dictated by another person. Having that person be Austin Shaw was the stuff of nightmares. Worse…she really hadn’t thought he’d had it in him. Sure, they bantered back and forth. Sure, there was no love lost between them. But underneath the layers of contempt, a modicum of respect must have been reserved with his name on it, because she still couldn’t believe he’d drugged her.

She hated that it hurt. He’d divested her of the ability to function physically or mentally, and a smart man like him knew what a hard pill that would be for her to swallow. Said pill was currently stuck in her throat like a prickly pinecone. Because as pissed as she was at Austin, she was angrier with herself for letting her guard down, two consecutive nights.

And that fact was still a distant second to her having enjoyed those stolen moments on the dark dance floor.

Enjoyed. Ha.