“I’m leaving now.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive.”
“It won’t stop until you slake the need, Kalina.” He was still watching her as he tucked himself back into his pants. “You’re going to want me until you have me.”
“You’re an arrogant SOB!” She tossed the words at him on instinct. He was exactly that, but he was also technically her boss and the subject of her investigation.
She really needed to get out of here before she had no job on either front.
“I apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused by entering your office without permission,” she said, turning to walk toward the door.
The minute her hand was on the knob he spoke again.
“I could still fire you.”
She looked over her shoulder, bravado she didn’t really feel sounding in her voice. “And I can bury your ass in the biggest sexual harassment suit of the year. Then where would you be, Mr. Lethal Litigator?”
He didn’t answer. She knew he wouldn’t. Roman Reynolds liked to play hard, he liked to assess his situation and then go in for the kill. She wasn’t giving him the opportunity to do any of the above. At least not tonight.
He was right, he could fire her. And she was right, she could sue the pants off him—no pun intended—and his firm. But as she closed the office door behind her she had a feeling neither of them would take those actions.
Whatever it was that had just happened between them was too big for that.
Kalina had a love–hate relationship with the rain. And the dark. And being alone.
She sounded like a basket case moving to the window seat in her bedroom looking out into the night with a sigh. Her apartment was empty save for furniture and the few mementos she’d allowed herself to collect. There was no one there to welcome her home, no husband, no significant other. Not even a pet.
Every day it was the same.
No, tonight was different.
She’d gone to the precinct the moment she left the office. It was against protocol, she knew. Her routine needed to remain the same in case anybody was watching her. She should never go to the precinct unless called from undercover by her superior officer. But she needed it, her mind needed the one thing that remained constant in her life. The one thing that mattered. Work.
Roman Reynolds had touched her. He’d kissed her and she’d kissed him back, wantonly. The heat exchanged between them was unlike anything she’d ever experienced in her life and for the first time in a really long time Kalina was unnerved.
Her job was to investigate him, to find out what he was doing and bring him down. Not crawl all over his desk, getting hot and steamy with the man. Slapping a palm to her forehead, she allowed another moment of disgust. This wasn’t a pity party she was indulging in this time, it was a reprimand. One she fully deserved from her superior but wouldn’t get because she hadn’t mentioned this new development to him. While she wanted the safety net of work, her mind really wasn’t on the case she needed to build.
It was on the man.
He’d caught her trying to break into his computer and instead of tossing her ass out, firing her, and/or pressing charges, he’d kissed her.
And what a kiss it had been. Words could not describe … it was beyond sensual, more than erotic, a step past intoxicating. She wanted more. Her body had practically begged for it. The strength with which he’d grabbed her leg, wrapping it around him, still had her center pulsating. The warm-shower-and-vibrator-assisted release she’d indulged in the moment she arrived home wasn’t nearly enough.
How long had it been since she’d felt the touch of a man, welcomed it, in fact? A little more than two years. About a month before the attack. She’d told her shrink that she was okay with it, that the violation that piece of crap had imposed on her wasn’t that big a deal. She’d survived. And yet, she really hadn’t. Because as much as she enjoyed sexual release, the thought of another man touching her intimately had made her sick. The mere consideration over the past few months would send her into a panic attack that should have had her on medication. Had she dared to ever tell anyone about it.
Instead she’d stocked up on sexual toys and movies that would give her everything she needed without the physical presence of a man. The dark haunting of a memory.
Until tonight. Until Roman Reynolds.
Her apartment was minutes away from his office, on the top floor of a corner brownstone. The front entrance had a wrought-iron gate and matching screened door that wasn’t locked. The mailbox showed her name and apartment number. The steps leading up to her were unguarded as he walked up slowly, predatorily.
A black door with a shiny gold number two on it was all that stood between him and her. Placing his palms on the door, Rome rested his forehead against it, inhaling deeply, painfully.
He wanted her.
There was no doubt about that and no real concern. Sex was sex and with Rome it was good sex. He’d been told that before, wore the honor like a soldier’s Purple Heart. But this was different. He was smart enough to know and to admit that this wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t a normal urge. His blood heated, coursed through his veins like a raging stream at the proximity to her.
Not only had he picked up her scent the moment he’d crossed the threshold to the building, but he sensed her physically as if she now occupied a small space within him. She was here, just beyond this door. He could knock and she’d let him in. They would sleep together, no doubt about it. The sex would be wild, dangerous, alluring, just like their kiss. But what else?
There was definitely something else. Rome was wise enough to know that as well. It bothered him, this knowledge coupled with uncertainty. It was unusual for him not to know exactly what he wanted to do, when he wanted to do it. Taking precautions and planning was a natural part of him, the human him. Second-guessing wasn’t.
Who was Kalina Harper and why did she have this effect on him? Why was he here, tonight, at her apartment? And why had he been there, that night two years ago, in the alley to save her?
His mother would say there were no coincidences in life, there was only fate. A destiny mapped out for each and every breathing being. Rome didn’t believe that; he refused to believe in a plan that included someone’s death. His mother’s death. That wasn’t fate. She wasn’t meant to die and neither was his father. They weren’t meant to go, but Rome had allowed it, because he hadn’t been strong enough to stop it.
Turning away from the door but still standing utterly still in front of it, he vowed he’d never make that mistake again. He would never fail to act when he needed to, would never be caught off guard again.
He turned to walk away. Kalina Harper wasn’t a part of the plan, she wasn’t what he needed to focus on. Revenge was.
A hot tongue swiped over thick lips as eyes remained trained on the window. She was there, in a thin robe that did nothing to disguise the delectable body he craved. She sat in the windowsill—thank goodness for bay windows—knees pulled to her chest, the silk sliding down to her waist so that her calves and thighs were bared to him. Did she know he was there? Was she giving him a treat?
His pulse quickened, arousal lengthening along his thigh.
Her head fell back, resting against the wall, her breasts jutting forward. Her nipples were hard, kissable. He cursed, opened the car door, and stepped out. Rain sprinkled over his face, falling to his arms and hands as he stood paralyzed by her beauty, her sensuality.
He wanted like never before, craved the touch and taste that had been denied so long ago. At his sides his fists clenched. The time wasn’t right. It wasn’t now. There was more to it than just having her physically. There would be pain and suffering, long coming and well deserved. It was the way it had to be, the way it would be.
“Soon,” he whispered, still looking up at the window to the second-floor apartment of the corner house.
