When a victim was attacked in her own home, the search always began from the inside out. Ben was a natural suspect. So was his friend JT. The husky-voiced surfer was a smooth operator, no doubt about that, but Sonny couldn’t picture him planning anything more nefarious than a lazy seduction. Besides, he’d been ruled out already. According to the case file, he’d been surfing with Ben the morning Olivia was murdered. Several witnesses recalled seeing Ben go inside, while JT stayed in the water.
Sonny felt a flutter of nerves as Ben came up behind her. Until Grant gave her the go-ahead, stringing him along was her job. So when he put his arm around her, she let him. And, as always, the thrill she experienced at his touch had nothing to do with his status as a suspect, and everything to do with her awareness of him as a man.
“I’m sorry.”
She pulled back to study his expression. “You are?”
“No,” he admitted. “I’m too pissed off to be sorry. But I know I shouldn’t have ordered you around like that in front of my family.”
“An honest admission is better than an insincere apology.”
“Well, you got both.”
“Lucky me.”
He worked his fingers through his dark hair in frustration. It was too long, and had a tendency to curl at the ends. In the water, it looked as smooth and sleek as an otter’s pelt. She wanted to run her fingers through it, then down, over his chest, and lower, where that silky line of hair disappeared into the waistband of his jeans.
“I’m jealous.”
She raised her eyes to his face. “What?”
“I’m jealous of Carly’s boyfriend. Can you believe that?”
She smiled. “Of course. It’s plain to see.”
“I don’t want her to grow up. I don’t want her to get hurt. But even more, I can’t help but feel she shouldn’t need anyone but me. If I were giving her enough positive male attention, she wouldn’t have to look elsewhere.”
“Ah. Does it work the same way for you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why am I here, if Carly fulfills all of your emotional needs?”
“I have…other needs.”
“And she isn’t allowed to have sexual needs? Why, because she’s a girl?”
“Yes, damn it! I don’t want to know about her sexual needs. She’s my daughter.”
Sonny threw back her head and laughed. “You’re going to know about them. And you’d better start talking to her about sex.”
“I’ve talked to her about sex,” he replied defensively.
“What did you say?”
“‘Don’t do it.’”
“Ben,” she scolded. “You need to make sure that she respects herself. That she understands the repercussions of her actions.”
His expression grew pained. “I always thought Olivia would do this.”
At the mention of his former wife, Sonny felt a twist of pain inside her chest. Maybe it was the way he spoke her name, or the tortured look on his face, but it was obvious he was still in love with her. Never mind the case, or that she was here under an assumed name, playing a role. Forget Summer Moore; Sonny Vasquez was crushed.
“What do you want from me?” she asked in a whisper.
Ben understood the question. The subjects of conversation might have changed, but not the topic. Slipping his arms around her waist, he dipped his head low, putting his lips very close to her ear. “Sex,” he breathed, making the word a caress.
The laconic statement wasn’t meant to be insulting, but he was surprised when she didn’t pull away. Instead, she looked up at him with those amazing blue eyes, and he saw his own ache mirrored there, along with hesitation, and a hint of fear.
Ben wasn’t sure why it sent him over the edge. Her reluctance was a novelty, and he certainly wasn’t accustomed to women being afraid of him. He knew he should be afraid of her, too. The threat she posed to him was much more than physical.
He’d never had a strong sense of self-preservation, so he went ahead and kissed her. She must have been suffering from the same malady, because she kissed him back.
His movements were stiff and awkward from lack of practice, but she didn’t seem to notice. When he tasted the seam of her lips, she parted them with a moan, twining her fingers through his hair. Pulse pounding with desire, he pressed closer, touching his tongue to hers, letting his hands roam over her lower back.
She went very still.
He lifted his mouth from hers. “You’re not going to hurt me again, are you?”
She laughed a little, tilting her head back to expose the silky column of her throat. Tantalized by the sight of that honeyed skin, he placed an openmouthed kiss there, following the delicate silver chain down her neck.
She clutched his hair. “I have to be in control.”
A wave of heat washed over him. On board with whatever kinky game she wanted to play, he raised his head and held his hands out to her, palms up. “Where do you want them?”
She put them on her breasts. “How about here?”
He groaned in agreement, backing her up against the rock wall and taking her mouth under his once again. Instinct had him pinning her in place with his body, his erection swelling against her belly, her nipples hardening at the brush of his thumbs. Frustrated with all the fabric between them, he unbuttoned her dress to the waist and released the front clasp of her bra.
“Wait,” she panted.
He stared down at her naked breasts. Her nipples were like pale brown sugar, beautiful, delicate, and unexpected. With a tremendous effort, he brought his eyes back to her face. “Why?”
“You’re going
“Oh. Fine.” He retreated, sitting in a cushioned patio chair, waiting for his heart to stop pumping blood to his groin.
She didn’t give it a chance. She straddled his lap, giving him a spectacular view of well-toned thighs and sheer white panties. His throat worked convulsively, his erection throbbed, and his fingers itched to touch her.
Clutching the underside of the armless chair, he closed his eyes and tried to regulate his breathing, but he hadn’t been with a woman for so long…
“Okay,” she said, looking down at his face.
He couldn’t keep up with her thought processes. “Okay what?”
“You can touch me now.”
“Where?” he asked reverently.
Impatient with him, she pressed her delightful breasts to his face. “Here.”
Wrapping his arms around her, he took one sweet, caramel-colored nipple into his mouth, hearing her sharp intake of breath and feeling her shiver of excitement. Greedily, his fingers slipped under her skirt, past the flimsy barrier of her panties, between her legs.
She was slick and hot and…crushing his trachea with her forearm.
“Stop,” she warned, applying pressure by holding one arm behind his neck, another in front. It was a damned effective headlock.
His hands fell away from her. Hell, in a minute he might pass out if she kept squeezing.
When she released him, he coughed and sputtered, covering his aching throat with one hand. “Goddamn,” he said in a strangled voice. “I’ll have to tie you up to have sex with you. No man is safe around you.”
She moved off his lap, closed the clasp of her bra with shaking hands, and pulled her skirt down over her legs.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Home,” she said, buttoning the front of her dress.
He rose to his feet and went to her, taking her by the hand. “Wait. I didn’t mean it. I won’t tie you up. Hell, you
