He wanted to touch her again. He wanted to reach out and stroke her and let her feel his power.
But he didn’t dare go near her building, he realized with frustration. The authorities were on high alert after his drop-in at her friend’s unit, and he needed to keep his distance for the time being. And letting Kendra and all those idiots who were gathered here to trap him know that she was the target of choice put additional heat on the situation.
It didn’t matter; he could wait. Now that the game had started and Kendra realized that his every move was aimed at her, every moment was going to be exciting.
Are you feeling it now, Kendra? Are your palms sweating? Did you feel sick when you knew that your Olivia was mine to kill?
Yes, Kendra was a worthy addition to this so-called dream team, and there were many things about her that he found especially intriguing. Was it the allure of the shiny and new, especially since he had already outsmarted the rest of these world-class investigators?
Partially.
And, of course, it was also her famous reluctance. She was different from these others, who seemed to live for their work. Kendra was on his trail despite herself, drawn only by her intense desire to do good. It would be easy to dismiss her attitude as arrogance, as if she was the only person in the world who could crack these cases.
Good and Evil. Life and Death.
The eternal battles that she should realize she could never win. Darkness always overcame light in the end.
But she did win them.
And the more he’d researched her, the more he was convinced she was right; she had undoubtedly saved dozens of lives and jailed several killers who would still be walking the streets. She had gone through hell and torment to meet the challenges she had encountered, but she had triumphed.
Was that why he’d chosen this woman, in this city, for the grand finale of his master plan?
Sometimes he thought that challenge was the reason. But at other times he was aware of something so dark and malevolent that he could see hovering over Kendra that he knew it might be something else. It might be the sheer pleasure of planning the depth of suffering that would bring her to her knees.
The excitement was growing within him as he thought about her. He had to control it. Think about the plan in its entirety. That would calm him.
He’d done his homework. It’s what separated him from the pathetic amateurs who would grow old and die behind bars, he thought scornfully.
He was no amateur.
If they were the dream team, he was about to become their worst nightmare.
CHAPTER
7
“WAKE UP, KENDRA.”
Even in the depths of sleep, she could hear the hardness and biting anger that edged that deep voice.
She could also recognize that voice.
Her eyes flew open.
Lynch was standing in the doorway of her bedroom. Even in the dimness of the light streaming in the window she was able to read his body language. It echoed the harshness of that first sentence.
Excitement. Electricity. Desire. Joy. These first emotions she was feeling made no sense, she realized dazedly. They were all wrong in this situation. It must be because she was still half asleep. “Lynch?”
“Shut up.” He was across the room and pulling her out of bed. “I need this. We’ll deal with everything else later.” He was kissing her. Passion. Hard and hot and breathtaking. His hand was on her butt, pushing up her night shirt. Touching. Squeezing. Bringing her into his body and rubbing her against him.
It was like some crazy, bewildering, erotic dream … but she was awake, she realized. Lynch was somehow here, in her bedroom.
How in the hell…?
Then sensation after sensation was searing through her and it didn’t matter how. It was only important that he didn’t stop.
Her head fell back as she arched and cried out. Her arms clutched blindly at him.
The scent of him …
The feel of him …
Oh, my God …
Then he was dropping her back on the bed. “Get up and get dressed,” he said hoarsely, gazing down at her. “I’m too angry with you right now. I might hurt you. We have enough problems, and I’m not going to let you add to them.”
She was still hot and shaking. “I don’t believe I was adding to anything in this situation.”
“The hell you weren’t. You know better.”
“What are you doing here?” she asked dazedly.
He turned and said over his shoulder, “I’ll go make coffee. You get dressed and join me in five minutes. If you’re not out here by then, I’ll consider it an invitation and I’ll be back here and inside you.”
She lay there for a moment, trying to get her breath. Everything had happened so fast that she hadn’t been able to think, only react, but that wasn’t unusual with Lynch. They had been walking a tightrope between being partners and lovers for the past months, and the sexual tension was white-hot at times. This was clearly one of those times, and if she didn’t want to have the decision made for her, she’d better take control of the situation.
But she clearly did want it decided for her. She wanted him. Her breasts were taut, swollen, the muscles of her stomach clenched. She wanted to lie here and wait for him to be inside her.
But that would mean that she had no choice and she couldn’t accept it. It was too dangerous to allow anyone that close to her right now.
Move.
Go to him.
Don’t let him come back.
She swung her legs to the floor and got to her feet. The next moment she was in the bathroom and reaching for her toothbrush.
It was ten minutes, not five, by the time she was dressed and walked into the kitchen.
“You’re late,” Lynch said as he handed her a cup of coffee. “But I cut you some slack when I heard you in the bathroom. Though I had to think about it. Shower sex can be damn good, too.”
“Cut me slack?” She was trying not to stare at him. He might see what she was still feeling. It had been dim in the bedroom and this was her first real glimpse of him in weeks. He was wearing a black leather jacket and, as usual, he was overwhelming. Those blue eyes, the movie star good looks, the sheer charisma …
“You’ve got a hell of a lot of nerve.” She sat down at the table and lifted her coffee to her lips. “No way, Lynch. You come busting into my condo without invitation.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “At five in the morning. And tell me how angry you are with me. I should be the one to be pissed off.”
“Because I invaded your space? I still have a key from when I occupied your spare room, remember?”
“I never invited you then, either.”
“You have a habit of attracting death and mayhem. It was either the spare room or your bed. You were backing away from me. So I didn’t push it.”