Page 26 of Lust

I should be thinking of how I can escape, but the only thing remotely coherent in my mind is how much I want him to kiss me, to touch me, somewhere other than my wrists. This is the same thing that happened with Blake in the alley. And as though the thought conjured him, the sofa creaks behind me, and there he is.

“It’s okay, Syd,” Blake murmurs in my other ear, and the heat of his words and breath over my skin make it impossible to deny, to protest.

I shake my head. It’s all I can manage with this insane and uncontrollable desire racing through my body. In complete synchronisation, Blake and Roman lower their mouths to my neck, just below my ear, leaving a trail of heat behind. My body responds involuntarily; my head dropping back a fraction. Roman wastes no time in using the action to his advantage, kissing down my throat to my collar bone.

There’s a soft whimper, and it takes me an age to realise the sound came from me. Before I can fully comprehend what’s happening, rough, calloused fingers sweep up my side to my breasts, and I gasp at the sensation.

“No, no…oh.” The words come out breathy and not at all like I mean them.

A deep rumble vibrates along my neck. “If you’re going to say no, Syd, say it like you mean it,” Blake says, his voice full of amusement.

Roman’s fingers skate across my breast, circling my nipple, then with the barest of touches, he sweeps a thumb over my hardened nipple, and I jolt as though hit with an invisible electrical current. The exquisite sensation flows through my body, hitting my core in a pulsing bloom. He does it again, harder this time, giving it a small tweak before moving away. I almost feel bereft and arch my back, seeking more.

My reaction is met with a hum of appraisal and a dark rumble of laughter, but the moment is shattered with a sharp knock at the door.

I gasp, Roman’s hand falls away and Blake’s mouth stills at the crook of my neck. When a second knock comes, Roman steps back, standing tall, and pulling me up with him. Blake drops on to the sofa, slouching casually as though he were simply sitting and hadn’t just had his mouth on me.

“Expecting someone?” Roman asks, raising a curious brow.

“No, no one,” I say, shaking my head as I try to calm myself.

“Do you want me to?—”

“No!” I say sharply, cutting off his offer to answer the door. “I’ll get it.” This time my words are softer, and I fidget with my clothes, straightening them out, as I head for the front door.

Through the glass, I can make out the blurred outline of at least two people. Looking behind me one last time to ensure Roman and Blake haven’t followed, I take a steadying breath and open the door.

I don’t know what I expected but finding the police standing on my doorstep, wasn’t it.

“Miss Kincaid, Sydney Kincaid?” the female officer asks, her hands tucked inside the side pockets of her duty vest.

“Yes,” I say, looking between the two of them. “What’s going on?” But the dour expression on their faces is sign enough.

“Miss Kincaid, I’m sorry to have to tell you, but there’s been an accident involving your father, Reverend Kincaid.”

My hands fly to my mouth, smothering some of my cry of despair, and when my legs buckle beneath me as the policewoman explains Pa is in hospital, someone catches me from behind.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

BLAKE

As Syd disappears down the hall with the nurse to her father’s room, Ro says, “Call Oz and see what he can get from the CCTV from outside the church.”

I pull my phone from my pocket and hit dial on Oz’s number as I head back outside. I’m pissed we were interrupted, but I’m more pissed about why. Kincaid getting attacked is a problem, not only because the cops are going to be all over this, as will the community—a reverend attacked in his own church is never going to go down well—but also because it begs the question of whether it was random or something else.

“Blake, what’s up?” Oz greets.

“Kincaid was attacked.”

“What the hell? When?”

“An hour ago at the church. I need you to hack the cameras,” I say quickly, moving around the side of the building, away from the smokers and earshot of anyone.

“On it. Give me five minutes. I’ll call you back when I have something.” He ends the call, and I lean against the wall while I wait for Oz to call me back.

After a few minutes, I push off the wall and begin pacing, running possibilities through my mind. When my phone rings five minutes later, I answer before the first ring ends.

“Tell me you’ve got something?”

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