Rose slung aside the covers and rushed for the bathroom door. She twisted the knob—he hadn’t locked the door—and threw it open. As she stormed inside, she kicked past his discarded clothes. “War.” Angry. Determined.
He was in her shower. The water thundered down on him. His back was toward her, but she could see him clearly through the glass shower door. No steam drifted from the water—she knew it was probably ice cold, just as he’d said.
“You don’t want to do this,” he warned. His hands pressed to the tiled wall in front of him. “Walk away, Rose.”
She walked closer. “I want you.”
The water trailed down his body. Slid over his strong, muscular back. Down that awesome ass of his. Truly, the man’s ass was great. And those powerful legs and those—
He swung around toward her.
Huge. Massive. His cock bobbed toward her. “The cold water isn’t helping,” he growled. “And you standing there naked…I’m trying to be good.”
“Oh, War…” She opened the door. “You’re way better than good in bed, and we both know it.” She stepped beneath the spray. Gasped because it was freezing. Her nipples pebbled hard and her stomach sucked in. But she didn’t retreat. Her hand rose to press to his chest—his cold, hard chest. “Turn the water off,” she breathed as she stood onto her tiptoes and pressed a quick, hungry kiss to his lips. “And fuck me.”
He wrenched the water off. Yanked her up into his arms and pushed her against the wall. He caged her there even as this cock shoved toward her—
He stilled with the head of his cock lodged at the entrance to her body. “Condom.” Another growl.
“I’m still on birth control. There hasn’t been anyone since you. I’m clear. I’m—”
“There hasn’t been anyone for me since you.” His eyes blazed with dark fire. “There never will be.” He sank deep.
That was it. She was lost. All control stripped away. His cock stretched her and had her moaning and they were wild. He pounded into her. Her hands held onto his shoulders for dear life. She didn’t feel the cold any longer. How could she? Her heart was nearly bursting from her chest. Her breath heaved in and out. Her legs had locked tightly around his hips. Each deep thrust had her arching into him.
His cock filled her. Over and over. Slid in and out. She pushed up so she could look down at them—
Oh, God.
He held her with his right hand. Such easy strength. His left slid between their bodies. Stroked her. She watched. She—
Came so hard that she thought she just might pass out. The pleasure slammed through every cell in her body. Rose couldn’t cry out at all. She was too busy soaking in the release and letting it fill every hollow, dark spot inside of her. The climax kept pouring through her. Not some little peak—there were no little peaks of pleasure with War. More like a non-stop onslaught that was wrecking her world and leaving her shaking and satisfied and…
He drove deep once more. Erupted inside of her. Her hold on him tightened even more. She forced her eyelids to lift—they’d closed when her release first hit. She stared at him. Saw the savage beauty of his face as pleasure washed over his features.
He looked back at her. His eyes stared straight into her soul. And he just said… “Mine.”
***
Dylan Nelson shoved open his front door. He’d been at the station for too damn long answering all of those ridiculous questions from the cops. His lawyer had told him that cooperating was in his best interest.
He probably should hire a new lawyer. That prick had been getting on his last nerve.
He glared around the house. He’d told the cops they could search his home. He didn’t have anything to hide in his place. Not like he was keeping freaking kill trophies under the bed or something.
He needed a drink. Maybe two. He’d been grilled like some kind of criminal. He was a respected producer. He had a wall full of awards. Hell, he’d been recognized by the mayor last year because of the charitable shit he’d done.
Yanking at his tie, Dylan headed for the kitchen. He was almost there when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He hauled it out and peered down at the screen.
When he saw the text sender’s name, his jaw clenched. His finger slid across the surface of the phone. Gary had still been tailing War. But now that Rose wasn’t hiding any longer, that job would end. It would—
Dylan frowned.
Gary had sent him new photos. He clicked on them. Made them bigger. Dylan swallowed and glared as the shots appeared.
War. Kissing Rose. Pressing her up against that stupid old car of his.
War. Putting his hands all over Rose. Acting like he fucking owned her or something.
Why the hell had she fallen for that asshole? Why was she letting him touch her again?
Why couldn’t she learn from her mistakes?
The phone vibrated again as a text appeared. Do you want me to continue surveillance?
He fired off a quick response. “Send me a bill. Your job is done.” Gary had handled several jobs for him in the past. The PI had always been discreet, and he delivered exactly as promised. He could get dirt on anyone. A useful trait in the media world.
Dylan hesitated. Actually…maybe Gary could still be useful. Before, Dylan’s goal had been to get War angry enough to turn from Rose. But maybe Rose should be the one turning away. Maybe she didn’t know her boyfriend as well as she thought. Perhaps no one did. “Change of focus,” he texted. “Dig up everything you can on Warren Channing. I want every single skeleton he has.”
Three little dots appeared on his screen. Dylan waited…
The response: Done.
Chapter Twelve
Her phone was ringing. Rose cracked open one eye as the peal of sound penetrated the deep layers of sleep. She threw out her hand—aiming generally for the direction of the noise—but instead of hitting her nightstand, she hit a warm, hard body.
War.
Her second eye opened. She found him staring back at her.
“Morning,” he told her in his deep, growly, I-just-woke-up voice. A voice that had her wanting to squirm because it was pure sex appeal.
The phone rang again.
“I need to get that.” She leaned over him, kind of crawled on top of him, and scooped up the phone. It had been the standard ringtone, so she didn’t realize who the caller was until she glanced down and—“Dylan.”
Beneath her—because she was almost straddling him at this point—War stiffened. “What the hell does he want?”
Since she hadn’t taken the call yet, Rose had no clue. Her breath huffed out and her finger tapped the screen. “Dylan?” She made sure to put the call on speaker so War could hear, too.
“We need you. Get to the station, now.”
What? That was the way he greeted her after everything that had happened? “I’m on leave. Find someone else.”
“Your leave is up. Jeremy just broke his leg water skiing, so he can’t go on air. The cops found a female homicide victim on the beach this morning, and we need a reporter on site. You are in charge of the crime beat.”
A female victim? “What happened to her?”
“I don’t know. How about you do your job and find out? Get to the station. I’ll have a crew waiting for you—”