Double Dare (2 page)

Right.

Instead of going home after work, she made a detour to her club. It was small and exclusive, offering exceptional services and unequaled privacy. Her locker was stocked with clean workout clothes and tennis shoes along with all her favorite amenities. She quickly changed and proceeded to work her muscles into the consistency of Jell-O. It didn’t take the edge off her frustration or her libido, which buzzed every time she thought of Simon. If anything, with her pheromones elevated, she was more aroused than before she’d pushed through the heavy glass doors.

Maybe she needed a massage?

No, if anyone touched her right now, she might launch.

How embarrassing would that be? And launch she would, because ever since her multiple orgasms with that green-eyed stud, something inside her had been switched on with no intention of turning off.

Instead of taking a cab to her place, Katy walked the eight blocks to Pac Heights. She ran up the four flights of stairs to the penthouse and nearly collided with Rosie as she burst through the stairway door to the hallway.

“Katy!” Rosie cried, steadying them both. “What’s wrong? Are you—” Rosie’s dark eyes narrowed as she took in Katy’s disheveled, breathless, sweaty self. “I knew it! Who is he?”

Katy shook her head and pulled out of Rosie’s grip, which was easy since she was as sweaty as a fat man in a sauna. “There is no
he
. I’m just retaking my life.” Both statements resonated inside of Katy. There was
no
man, and even if there was, she
was
reclaiming herself from any such men. She wasn’t going to settle ever again. She would be first pick for the man
she
chose. No one’s sloppy seconds and she would not allow herself to be convinced that she didn’t deserve a man who would respect her equally as a woman and as a scientist.

She smiled and grabbed Rosie into a big sweaty hug. “I’m good, Rosie. Better than ever.” She gave her a quick peck on the cheek and skipped past her into her apartment. Once the door closed behind her, she slid down to the cool marble floor, pulled her knees to her chest, rested her chin on her knees, and told herself she was going to stick to her guns. Because having no man was better than having the
wrong
man.

Before Katy jumped into the shower, she unpacked her suitcase. As she came to the bottom of it, her brow wrinkled. Only one of her Louboutins. She searched the outer zipper pouch and went through the rumpled clump of clothes she had hurriedly stuffed into the case, but still came up with only one shoe. Where could it be?

Where was the last—

“Oh no,” she groaned. The last place she remembered having both heels on was in Simon’s hotel suite. Had she left one behind? No, she distinctly remembered wrapping them up in her damp clothes from the shower, which—she sniffed them—smelled like mildew. She tossed the skirt and blouse into the trash can. No shoe. Damn it, the lone Louboutin was still in that hotel room.

Quickly she called the hotel and insisted the hotel manager personally go to the suite and look for the shoe. He called her from his cell phone as he looked under the bed, in the closet, in every drawer, and the bathroom.

“Dr. Winslow, I’m very sorry, but there is no shoe here.”

“What about the maid? Can you ask her if she found one?” It would make no sense for the maid to keep one shoe.

“I’ll check with her when she arrives in the morning.”

“Can you please check lost and found and see if it’s there and if it isn’t, would you please call her at home, tonight? It would really mean a lot to me. If they were my shoes I could wait, but I borrowed them, and oh, my gosh, I can’t afford to replace this pair.” It was a small lie, but she needed to know now if the shoe was there. If it was not in lost and found and the maid hadn’t seen it … She pinched the bridge of her nose and slowly exhaled.

That meant Simon had it.

Son of a bitch.

“I will call you back in a half hour, Dr. Winslow.”

Twenty-two minutes later she got the news. Concha, the maid, had not seen a shoe when she cleaned the room after the
señor
had checked out that morning.

Katy plopped down on the edge of her bed. So—Simon had her black stiletto. The question she asked herself was: Did she text him and demand that he mail it to her, or did she let it go?

If she contacted him, that would open a door. A door her body begged her to open, but one her heart just as vehemently begged her not to. Because once opened, it would be impossible for her to close.
Keep it closed, Katrina.

She sighed heavily and stood up. The shoe was not worth the emotional commotion getting it back would create. She could afford a dozen pairs of Christian Louboutins. She tossed the orphaned stiletto into the trash can on top of the soiled clothing.

Hasta la vista,
baby. Only she would not be back.

Steady as she goes, Katy. No more Simon.

Not if you want to remain sane …

She jumped into the shower, turning the water on as cold as she could stand it.

The water temperature didn’t matter. Every nerve ending in her body pulsed beneath her skin. Her breasts grew heavy, her nipples hardened, her “pussy” as Evan had so commonly called it, clutched wantonly for the penis it so desperately ached for but would never have again—and it wasn’t Evan’s.

Her want was so deep, it hurt.

Biting her bottom lip, she slid her soapy hand down her taut belly to the slight rise of her mons. “Simon,” she breathed, leaning back against the cold marble tile. “I would give anything if you were here,” she moaned.

Anything.

or a woman who was as disciplined as a Tibetan monk when it came to her mind, body, and career, Katrina Winslow felt like she was unraveling. Never had she felt so nervous and jumpy. Never so sensually hypersensitive. Never so restless. She was lit up and worked up.

Toweling her wet hair, she mopped as much water from it as she could, and proceeded with the arduous task of blow-drying it. The mindless chore only gave her brain free rein to wander to Simon and wonder what he was doing and who he was doing it with. The image of him and that blonde tearing up the sheets made her sick to her stomach.

Abruptly she turned off the blow dryer and clipped her damp hair on top of her head. Heavy tendrils fell down her back. She didn’t care. This ridiculous obsessing about a man she didn’t even know except carnally was for the birds. He was probably as big a jerk as Evan. Except since he was bigger—
all over
—he had more to be cocky about.

She smirked.

Stop.

Yeah, he was all that and a big bag of chips, but he was history and she needed to stop thinking about him! Her body, however, was still on Simon vigil.

The workout and cold shower had done nothing to suppress the restless heat in her body. And with that, the need to keep as much stimulus off her skin as possible drove her to her closet in search of the lightest piece of loungewear she could find. Her closet was large and full of designer suits and casual wear. Evan said she dressed like a million-dollar librarian. What did he think she was supposed to wear to the lab? Corsets and leather? She dressed in classic styles and understated colors. Professional, respectable, and classic. It was what was comfortable for her. He had never understood that.

She pulled out a white terrycloth tube-top dress and slipped it on. She didn’t bother to put on a bra or panties. The less pressure she had on her skin right now, the easier it would be to endure the tension burning through her like wildfire.

If she had a dog, she’d take it for a walk. If she had a treadmill, she’d run until her legs fell off. If she had Simon, she’d fuck him until they were both raw.

Stop.

“Argh!” she screamed, yanking the clip from her hair and throwing it across the room.

The doorbell rang, startling her. It was 9:30. She was a hermit. No one except Rosie stopped by and she always knocked before walking in. Sometimes Lily Sommerland, the teenage girl from the second floor, came by selling something for some fundraiser or another.

It rang again. It wasn’t the doorbell from the front porch downstairs but the one outside her apartment door, so whoever it was had a key to the building … Most likely Lily.

She shook her long hair from her shoulders and strode from her bedroom through the apartment to the front door. She didn’t care that her body was clearly outlined beneath the fabric. Or that her erect nipples poked the fabric, creating mini-tents. If a man stood on the other side of that door he was in trouble … If it was Lily, she’d know not to ring someone’s doorbell so late on a work night.

Yanking open the door expecting to find the Sommerlands’ daughter selling overpriced chocolates to fund a class trip abroad, Katy hissed in a deep surprised breath.

“I’m looking for Cinderella,” that deep, sexy as sin voice she would never forget, drawled.

Katy gulped, swayed backward, and grabbed the door handle to keep herself from falling face-first into the arms of the charming police captain.

He didn’t flinch when it looked like she might fall. Instead, he leaned casually against the corner wall, his long legs crossed at the ankle, and dangled her lost Louboutin from the index finger of his right hand. Katy gulped. He was dressed in black leather shoes, tailored black slacks, and a fitted mint-colored collared shirt that accentuated the deep green of his eyes. It was unbuttoned just enough to show the tan hollow at the base of his throat. The yummy package was topped off with a sexy smile she wanted to lick.

“Would you happen to know where I could find her?”

Katy opened her mouth to say something, anything, but no words came forth. She could not believe he was standing here, in front of her apartment. All she had to do was invite him in and—Oh
my,
the things he could do to her. Heat flushed her cheeks and she suddenly felt overexposed. Crossing her arms across her chest, she retreated a step. Thankfully, she thought, he did not pursue her. To hide her desperate embarrassment, she used her tongue to put him on the defensive. “Oh, really? And who might you be: Prince Charming?”

He grinned, flashing those beautiful white teeth. Her knees shook. Good lord he was good looking. “Never confuse me with Prince Charming, Cinderella. I’m the Big Bad Wolf.”

She gulped again and nearly choked on her dry throat. “Very funny,” she muttered, feeling completely out of her element. Both times she was with him she’d been drunk. Okay, the second time she’d entered his room drunk and even though she’d slept it off, her vulnerable state had allowed her to be charmed back into his clutches. That was then, this was now. She was sober and no longer at his mercy.

“How did you find out where I live?”

Sliding his hand into his trouser pocket, he pulled out a gold and silver star. “Cop,” he said, and before she could make out which jurisdiction it was, he slid it back into his pocket.

Katy scowled. Of course, he probably knew what she had for breakfast, too.

“I suppose you’re armed?”

He grinned and nodded. “Never leave home without it.”

“And where is home?”

“Wherever the chase takes me.”

“No moss gathers on your shoes?”

“Not if I can help it.”

Ah, the charming loner with a huge case of wanderlust. If circumstances were different, she’d take advantage of that fact. But they weren’t. “That’s my shoe. I’d like it back,” she said, extending her hand, palm up.

He shook his head and schooled her. “Possession is nine-tenths of the law.”

“Oh, so you’re here on official business?”

“I’m just saying …”

Grrr, there was that smile again.

“It’s my shoe!”

“It’s only yours if it fits,” he said, unwinding his big body from the wall.

She set her jaw. “You know it fits.”

He grinned again and stepped toward her, then dropped to one knee before her, his body still in the hall. “Like a glove if I remember correctly,” he said softly, grasping her foot gently in his hand, then lifting it to slide it into the shoe. Katy caught a sharp breath at the double meaning of his words, and just like that, the sublimity of feeling as he entered her the very first time permeated every part of her being. And with the sensation, every warning signal in the city screamed
Danger
.
Danger.
Do Not Indulge.
Heat flared from his fingertips along her skin and straight up her leg to her womb. Hissing in a breath, Katy became unsteady on her one leg. His hand slid up her calf to her thigh, steadying her.

“Please,” she begged.

He looked up at her, his green eyes on fire, reflecting her own raging desire. Her arousal by this man was so complete and so uncontrollable, she squeezed her eyes closed in utter embarrassment when she felt her moistness drip down the inside of her thigh only to be halted by his fingertip.

“Oh, Dr. Winslow,” he taunted. “You are in such denial.” He settled her back against the door frame and traced the damp fingertip along the creamy trail on her inner thigh, stopping just shy of dipping into her. “Complete denial.”

She clenched her teeth to keep the moan in her throat from escaping her lips. “Leave me alone,” she hissed, then stepped back through the door and quickly shut it behind her.

Her chest heaved as she attempted to breathe. Oh God, that was crazy. Her body thrummed with energy. Every facet of her being was turned on.

The ping of her cell phone on the kitchen table alerted her that she had a text. Heart racing, body aching, she ran to it.

It was from Simon.
I want you, too.

Katy moaned and plopped down on the chair. Why couldn’t he make this easy and leave her alone?

Her cell pinged again.
Are you touching yourself?

Biting her bottom lip, she closed her eyes and sat back in the chair.

It pinged again.
Spread your legs, Kitty Kat …

Oh, if she did … She spread her legs.

Open the door and let me in, Kat …

No.

I promise you won’t regret it.

That’s what I’m afraid of.

Let me in, Cinderella … I dare you.

Katy couldn’t respond, because if she did she would tell him where the spare key was hidden in the planter by the elevator.

I double dare you.

I can’t.

What are you afraid of?

You.

You should be.

Please, leave me alone.

I can’t stop thinking about you.

You have to.

I don’t want to. You can’t stop thinking about me either. I saw it your eyes. Heard it in your gasp. Felt it in the tremble of your body when I touched you. And Kat, I could smell your desire. You smell so lush and sweet …

Please stop.

I can’t.

I’ll call your supervisor.

I’ll give you her number.

Stop!

You stop first.

I. Can’t. I hate you!

Do you have a toy?

A toy?

A sex toy.

No!

Then you’re going to have to use your fingers …

Heat flared in her cheeks.

For what?

To give yourself what you won’t allow me to give you.

She didn’t masturbate. She—wasn’t comfortable with it. Another in her string of hang-ups.

I don’t do that.

There you go denying again.

I’m not denying! I’ve never been comfortable doing that kind of stuff.

Then how can you know what your body likes if you don’t know your body?

I know what it likes.

So do I. It especially likes it when I stroke it and suckle it and kiss it. You come alive when I touch you Kat. Your skin flushes pink and your nipples get so hard. I love your tits.

Stop.

I can’t.