Page 2 of Wicked Games of Desire

Then he joins me, closing the door to keep out the cold. He takes off his jacket and slips it over my shoulders as my teeth start to chatter. “I’m Detective Ian Macquarie, what’s your name?” he asks me in a kind voice.

“Harley,” I push my name through my lips.

“Okay, Harley, can you tell me what you were running from in the middle of the night?”

I look him over, wondering if I can trust him. He said he’s a cop, and right now, I’m out of options. He has to be able to help me. “These men broke into my home. They killed my papa and brother and kept me away from them. I wanted to help them, to save them.But I couldn’t move.” My bottom lip trembles terribly as a fresh wave of tears streams down my cheeks. My family is gone. All I can see in my mind’s eye are the piercing blue eyes of the man who held me captive in my own room, staring down at me.

Chapter 2

Six Months Later

As I try toregain control of my racing heart, I find myself lost in the depths of his haunting green eyes. He’s ruggedly handsome even with a scar that runs down the left side of his face. And his crooked smile, that could melt panties. Mine. I have craved his lips on mine for months, but I already know I just made a huge mistake.

“You shouldn’t have kissed me,” Ian snaps, frustration lacing his words. I can see it in his eyes—he’s angry.

My cheeks glow with heat. He’s the cop working my case. The man who encouraged me to change my look, the vibrant red hair I once had was too conspicuous, so I followed his suggestion and transformed it into a lustrous shade of raven black, blending seamlessly with the darkness of the night. With his guidance, I adopted a new identity, shedding my former self as Harley Havardi and embracing the name Lana Sinclair. A nickname my brother called me by when we wereyounger seemed fitting, something to remember him by every time anyone in my new life says my name. Ian even helped me acquire fake identification to match my new persona. But beyond all of that, he’s the man who has shown me kindness in this harsh world, in these past six months. A world I realized, that even at the age of twenty-one, I knew nothing about it at all. I had lived a sheltered existence of a cushy boarding school, rubbing shoulders with the other elite children; my papa made sure of it. But now he’s gone, Ian’s been the one to take me under his protective wing and teach me how to survive.

I shouldn’t have mistaken his kindness for flirtation. He’s out of bounds in so many ways. I shouldn’t have kissed him, but when he looked at me like I was the only girl in the world, I wanted to believe him. I craved the touch of his lips against mine, the scratch of his stubble on my jaw, even if it could only happen once. I needed him to take me out of the darkness of my current hell, even if it was for just one moment in time.

He shakes his head, staring down at me with disapproval. I squirm under his scrutiny, feeling way too close to tears. Embarrassed, I try to shove out from under his hold, but he holds me firmly, with his muscular legs caging me in. “You shouldn’t have kissed me, Red, because now that I know you want me, I won’t be able to hold back.” He lowers his face toward mine, and I feel like my heart is going to stop. And then his lips crash with mine hungrily, devouring me in a way I’ve imagined so many times while rolling around on the mat of his MMA gym with him.

He wants me too.

The intense chemistry buzzing between us all this time wasn’t in my imagination. I run my hands through his short hair, bringing our faces closer as he kisses me passionately. My hips rise off the mat instinctively, wanting more connection with his solid body. I can feel thefirmness of his body pressing against me, as his length pushes through his tight workout pants. I suck in a ragged breath, trying to get my needy body under control. This is a terrible idea.

“Fuck, Red, you’re so fucking perfect. I shouldn’t be touching you,” he warns as his hands slide over my tank top, running over the curves of my breasts. His words say no, but his rough touch says fuck yes.

I blink back up at him, feeling small and so insignificant under him; he’s a large and powerful man with the physique of a warrior and the intelligence of a genius. I’m no one compared to him. I had no right to kiss him in the first place, but my body begs for him anyway. “But I want you to,” I whisper, afraid of his rejection.

His lips curl into a wicked grin, revealing everything I need to know. “In that case, who am I to stand in the way of offering you everything you desire.”

His hand glides down my torso, causing goosebumps to rise in its path. The way he touches me is both intense and deliberate, almost like a form of exquisite torture. I have waited a long time to really feel his skin on mine. When he reaches lower, pushing in between my legs, my mind goes blank. All I see is him, all I feel is his deliberate touch rubbing his palm over my deprived pussy. I’m drenched with arousal, and I’m sure through the stretchy fabric of my yoga pants, he can feel exactly how turned on I am for him.

“Ian,” I moan his name in a plea, wanting him to touch me under my pants, not just tease me like he is.

His eyes meet mine, melting me into a pool with the deep lust I find. “Red, what is it that you want from me?” he purrs, all domineering. And I knew he would be. He exudes power in his everyday life, so of course he holds all the control in the bedroom. I knowthat was half my fascination with him, desperate to know what it would feel like to be with a man like him.

But, fuck, he’s going to make me say it. I can tell from the stern gaze on his rugged face. I swallow the lump in my throat, feeling uncertain about my ability to ask for what I want at a time like this. My fingers run down his arms, tracing over the ink on his tanned biceps. I’m afraid to admit how inexperienced I would be compared to him, considering he’s at least fifteen years older than me and looks like an Italian god. He’s the type of man you just know would be a Casanova, all charisma and smoldering looks, and with a job as detective on top of owning his MMA gym, he would have chicks lining up. Whereas little old me has only ever been with just one other man.

His hand brushes over my pussy again, sending a shiver right through me. “What can I do for you, Red?” he asks again, getting impatient with my lack of response.

I open my mouth to talk then close it again, I’m sure looking like a fish.Get your shit together, Harley, I curse myself. Why can’t I just ask for what I want? I deserve this. Something for me, a second to breathe in a life that has been turned upside down. “I want… I want you to touch me,” I finally stutter out, finding my voice.

“Where?” He raises a brow, his eyes roaming over my body leisurely. He hasn’t moved from the last grappling position we were practicing, and that leaves me flat on my back with him pinning me under his body.

Be brave, Harley, this god of a man wants to pleasure you, so tell him what you fucking want. “I want your fingers inside me.” I bite into my lip nervously, awaiting his response.

His thumb comes to my chin, forcing my head to tilt back and our eyes to meet. “Good girl, that wasn’t so hard, was it? From now on you tell me what you want. No being shy with me. We know each otherso well after all our time together training. You can trust me to take care of you, can’t you?”

“Yes,” I squeak, wishing I could find some confidence from deep within. But he’s so intimidating, and the way he looks at me is hot as sin. He has me a total mess.

His grin widens as his hand slips into my yoga pants, fingers gliding through my juices as he explores my pussy.

I shiver with anticipation, enjoying every stroke. “Yes, please, touch me there, I want your fingers inside of me,” I beg as he brushes past my center deliberately.

With desperation taking over, I help him by tugging my pants down so he can get better access to my lady bits, thanking the Lord that I had the sense to shave this morning before my shift at the diner. After six months of us sharing most evenings together training, I’m completely smitten with him, and part of me can’t actually believe he’s touchingme. But now that he is, I want him to be thinking about me as much as I am him. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t help it.

He chuckles darkly at my hurry, before shoving my legs apart and exposing me. I blush, burning heat coming off my face, but as soon as he pushes a thick finger inside me, knuckle-deep, I forget my embarrassment.

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