Page 36 of One
“No, you won’t, piglet.”
“I know twelve different ways to cut your balls off.” Not true, maybe three, but that’s not the point.
His arms suddenly wrap around me, and he pulls me flush against him. “You love my balls too much. I know you want to nuzzle them, taste them, fill your mouth with their heavy weight and suck hard.” He pushes his groin against me, and the feel of his hard length makes my legs shake. “But your cutting knowledges turns me the fuck on, babe.” Raph bites my neck, making me whimper. But then, abruptly, he lets me go.
“We need to go. But later you’re all fucking mine, Michael.”
I’m already his. The sudden, frightening thought pops into my head, and I cannot deny it.
“Have you ever ridden a motorcycle?” he asks.
“A few times.” A fling from college had a Triumph he was obsessed with, and he let me ride it with him sometimes.
He hands me a shiny, blue helmet and slips a black one over his head. Then he swings his leg over and sits, gesturing for me to follow suit. I settle in behind him much less gracefully. He grabs my hands from his shoulders and wraps my arms around his waist, pulling me tight against his back. The motorcycle roars to life. Raph squeezes down on the clutch, and we fly out of the parking garage. I never understood the excitement some people get about riding motorcycles. Until now.
While we’re gliding down the streets, spearing the wind and darting among cars, my surroundings look like an abstract painting, and I feel… free. The vibration coming from the bike, a sexy purr under my butt, is making my cock twitch. But it’s Raph’s strong body—his solid, hard presence—that turns me on more than ever. I squeeze my arms more firmly around him and wish I wasn’t wearing a helmet. Then I could place my chin on his shoulder and maybe sniff him while sucking on his earlobe. He’s turned me into a wild nympho.
“You okay? Your foot?” His gruff voice suddenly resounds inside the helmet through the intercoms.
“I’m fine. I love this!” I almost scream. He chuckles and I fully enjoy the throaty sound since it’s kind of rare for Raph to let go. Unless it’s his raw desire for me.
“Go faster.”
“Hold tight, babe.”
We zoom along the streets, and I realize he’s choosing the most deserted ones at this hour of the afternoon. I relish the thrill of the speed. Too soon, we stop in the hospital parking lot. I stumble on my feet and Raph swiftly pulls me against him before I fall ass backward.
“Easy there.” He slides my helmet off and hooks it on the handle. His eyes go to my pouting lips.
“I wanted to keep going,” I whine. “Didn’t remember riding was this fun.”
“Because it wasn’t without me,” he simply states. He can be such an arrogant prick. “I’ve never let anyone ride on the back of my bike, but I think I’d like doing anything with you, babe.”
Andswoon. He did it again. Going from patronizing to melting sweet in a whiplash second.
He grabs my hand and pulls me toward the hospital. Mary is at the front desk and quickly informs me that the police are already downstairs. But she’s distracted, staring at my hair. Fuck, the helmet must have messed it up. I run a hand through it and then turn to Raph to ask him how it looks.
“You always look delicious to me.”
Not what I meant, but fuck if my heart and ego don’t do a somersault. Pretty sure Mary’s does too, judging by her yearning sigh.
The ride in the elevator is quick, and when we get to the morgue, Detective Polsner is outside talking to Mr. Danford, the hospital dean.
“My colleague will run the fingerprints he recovers from the room in the database and see if he can get a match. In the meantime—Oh, Doctor,” he says when he sees me. “Mr. Bear-Stone. Didn’t expect to see you here again.”
The look he exchanges with Raph is tense and awkward, just like last time. The posturing between the two is almost ridiculous.
“I go where Michael goes,” Raph says matter-of-factly, tightening his hold on my hand. I move slightly closer to him, hoping to defuse the situation. “Why is a homicide detective working on a breaking and entering case?”
“I was in the neighborhood, and since the body of one of the Rope Killer’s victims used to be in this hospital morgue, I’m just trying to see if there’s any connection.”
I want to ask where Diaz is—I felt some tension between the two detectives last time and now I wonder if it was related to the case—when Raph retorts, “That’s a big stretch. Didn’t think the police were this meticulous.”
“We take our job too seriously, at times.”
Raph stares Polsner down, while fear starts crawling from the base of my spine. Was the Rope Killer really responsible for this mess? But why would he be in my morgue?
“And one can never be too careful with serial killers. Spencer is the lead detective on this case,” he says, pointing at the lanky, bold guy looking around the room.
