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He laid a finger across her lips. “I’m not thinking anything other than I think you are a beautiful woman who I’d like to spend time with. But I can be a good boy until you let me off the leash and want me to be the bad boy.”
He was way too sexy for his own good—or hers for that matter. She sensed there was something predatory and just a bit dangerous about Ryker McKay. She remembered thinking the same thing about both Thorn Wilder and Slade Rafferty.
Trying to cover how flustered he made her feel, she grinned, “What happens if I don’t want the good boy? What if I want the bad boy instead?”
As she reached for the door handle, he gently spun her around, pressing her into the wall before leaning down so nothing more than a butterfly’s wing could fit between them. “Be very careful about what you want.”
Deciding bravado was her best option, Lori straightened her back. “How will I know what it is I want unless I know what you’re offering?”
“Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to resist sweeping you up in my arms and carrying you back to that bed?” he asked in a low whisper, his voice sounding like it had been aged in fine whiskey, causing a surge of heat in her body. “I’ve had the most deliciously dirty thoughts about you all day. It made it damn hard for me to focus on anything else.” He pressed against her so she could feel the evidence of his arousal.
Maybe bravado wasn’t the way to go. Maybe she was better off making a joke. “You might want to think about that. You risk putting out your back if you carry me anywhere.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, you and I are going to have a long chat about you making disparaging remarks about yourself.”
When he backed off, Lori wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed. She didn’t have long to figure it out as he hauled her against his body, lowered his head and captured her mouth with his. His mouth was soft, seductive, almost sweet at first. Then his lips nibbled hers—persuasive, playful. His hand slid down her back, cupping the globe of her ass as he continued to kiss her.
Lori felt intoxicated, and she hadn’t had anything to drink—but then, nothing alcoholic had ever made her feel this way. She couldn’t stop the moan that escaped her lips. She could feel a shift in him. Gone was the easy-going, laid-back charmer she’d spent time with. In his place was a predatory creature who knew exactly what he wanted: her. His tongue invaded her mouth, sliding against hers in a titillating dance that invited her to play and explore.
She sagged into him, grateful he didn’t back away and let her fall. “Your choice, sweetness. Do we go downstairs and mingle with the conference attendees, or do I strip you out of that dress, take you to that bed, and have my wicked way with you?”
For reasons she might never understand, she laughed—not nervously, but with true mirth. “If you’re casting me as the vestal virgin, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. I haven’t been a virgin in a very long time.” She felt as if she was getting back on safe footing.
“Good to know. Give me a slutty broad any day over a simpering virgin.”
He waggled his eyebrows, making her laugh harder. She reached behind herself and twisted the doorknob, opening the door.
“Damn. And I was so hoping we weren’t going downstairs,” he mock whined, trying to sound pathetic.
Shaking her head, she headed out into the hall and led him to the elevator, where they got in and headed down to the party.
* * *
The party had already started when they entered the ballroom. Ryker led her to the bar, and they ordered drinks. Bourbon neat for him and a mojito for her. They began making the rounds. Ryker was the perfect escort, charming and deferential. Most of the readers were only interested in talking about her books, but the other authors seemed to want her to give them the details of what had happened to Cobain.
“Well, well, well,” said Detective Middleton. “I thought I might find you here, Ms. Sykes, but what are you doing here, McKay?”
“Mostly I’m just here to annoy you,” answered Ryker with a smile.
Lori rolled her eyes. “Ryker and I have mutual friends. He wanted an interview for the paper, and I roped him into being my plus one.”
“Ooh,” Ryker enthused. “I didn’t know there was going to be bondage.”
Middleton all but spit his drink.
“Down boy,” she scolded Ryker. “He’s just giving you a hard time, Detective Middleton. I’m kind of surprised to see you here.”
“Why? Cobain was one of you. This room is filled with other suspects besides you. I thought it might be a good idea to just come and have a look around—see if I could hear or see anything or anyone acting suspiciously.”
“Come on, baby, let’s you and me go and hide the candlestick we hit Cobain with…” said Ryker.
“Cobain wasn’t killed with a candlestick,” growled Middleton. “He was strangled.”
“So, you admit he was murdered,” said Lori.
“I’m not saying that,” stammered Middleton, realizing his mistake. “There is no official word on how Mr. Cobain died.”
“Could that be because you’ve failed to call the MCU or have a proper autopsy done by a forensic pathologist?” challenged Ryker.
