Page 64 of Bitter Spirits

Holding her gaze, he didn’t hide the flare of satisfaction, and when he answered, his voice was deep and dark with intent. “Then you’re mine.”

For a breathless moment, she searched his face. Be brave. Torn between fear and hope she let go and took a chance. “And you’re mine.”

“Always, reinita.” It was a vow, pure and simple.

She wasn’t sure who moved first, but her lips brushed his once then twice in soft enticement. The third time, he opened for her, and she dove in. The hands at her hips tightened as he followed her lead, their tongues tangling as they tasted and teased. His hand left her hips to stroke along her spine before setting at the base to press her close to the unmistakable ridge hardening between them. Hunger, need, and instinct came together as she undulated against him, riding the edge of the storm. He bucked beneath her, eliciting a soft gasp from her.

She dug her nails into his shoulders and arched back. “Locke!”

He groaned as his hand dove into her hair, holding her in place, and spread a line of open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin where her neck met her shoulder. Endearments fell in a whispered rush as shudders wracked her overly sensitized body. His touch left her a mess of cravings. Her breasts ached, and need pooled at her core, hot and wet, while the urge to crawl into him became almost overwhelming. It was as if all the months of circling had been nothing more than extended foreplay that exploded into this one brilliant moment.

Her hands moved over him, learning every rise and fall, dipping below the edge of his pants to find even more temptation. She was so lost in her exploration that when the world shifted around her, she gave a surprised cry. “What⁠—”

Locke swept her up. He held her tight as he headed to the hall. “We are not doing this on the couch.”

Something about the disgruntlement made her feel lighter, younger. She wound her arms around his neck. “But we are doing this?”

He met her gaze, his eyes wild and fierce, as he carried her to his bedroom. “Hell yeah, we are.”

Chapter 20

Locke

Locke glared out the windshield as he navigated the morning traffic. He should have been in a good mood, considering he’d woken up with a warm and naked Isa, but his morning had quickly turned to shit. First was the phone call informing him that Paisley had finally sobered up enough to be useful. He set a time to talk to the girl, and when he hung up, Isa insisted on coming with him. Since there were still dark circles under her eyes and a worrisome paleness that had nothing to do with their lack of sleep and everything to do with Angel, he insisted she stay at his place and take it easy. She’d had other ideas, and so began their first argument—which, since she was sitting in the passenger seat of the Dodge, applying lipstick, he’d lost.

And now he was thinking about starting their second argument. They had a twenty-minute drive ahead of them, and he had questions—ones that had circled his brain the night before while Isa slept.

Did Angel hurt her?

What is the deal with Cora?

What kind of bargain has she struck, and why is Des so worried about it?

Does she have a death wish?

Okay, maybe he wouldn’t ask that last one, but the others? Yeah, those needed to be asked. And this time, he wouldn’t be distracted. Not like last night, when she’d stood before him, all long legs and wary eyes, battered but fiercely unbroken—an enticing mix—for the first time offering him everything he craved. Instead of talking through shit, he took what she offered, scared it was a fever dream. He spent the next few hours proving to himself she was real—soft flesh, hot blood, addicting taste. She was too much to resist, so he’d caved. And loved every minute of it. Hell, he’d be a happy man if he could keep her in his bed for however long she let him.

But reality was a bitch. Angel was still out there, still a threat, and he couldn’t shrug off Des’s fear from yesterday or his own worry about the shadows she still carried. He wasn’t sure how to broach the topic. He didn’t want to argue, but he needed to know what they were working with.

“What happened yesterday?” He did his best to keep his tone neutral.

Isa paused in mid-motion and looked away from the visor mirror. “I was careful, Locke.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t.”

“You didn’t have to.” She turned back to the mirror, wiped the side of her mouth, then flipped the visor up and recapped her lipstick. “Our stock delivery was arriving early, so I had Des take Kelly home while I checked it in. Afterward, I forgot to reset the security ward.”

“Is that normal?” Sliding into interrogation mode was second nature to Locke.

“Is what normal?”

“Your delivery coming in early?”

She shrugged. “Not often, but the regular driver was out, so there was a new guy.”

His instincts quivered. “Did you get a name?”

“Um…” She drummed her fingers on the door’s armrest. “Mick? No, Mitch.” Her fingers stilled. “You think he was involved.”