Deadly Desire (7 page)

“You’re blocking my way,” he said, nodding at the desk drawer I was standing right up against.

“Oh.” My face grew hot as I shifted sideways, which put me even inches closer to Pierce. He leaned past me, and his arm brushed my hip. My heart started hammering so hard, I could barely stand still. As he leaned further even more, his face came within inches of my skirt. He was so close. My skin felt alive with electricity, and I was so hot, I wish I hadn’t worn a thick pair of hose.

He pulled a file folder out of his drawer and dropped it onto the table, but before he moved back, he looked up at me and pressed a hand against my leg. I froze, eyes wide. My throat closed up as I tried to breathe, and my thighs began to tremble.

“You’re shaking, Emma,” Pierce said in a gruff voice. “Maybe you should tell me why you really came here today.”

I wanted to argue with him, but I couldn’t. Even though I’d been repeating to myself that the only reason I’d come here was to confront him about Michael Astor’s death, the truth was that there was much more to it than that. I wanted to know I hadn’t slept with a murderer, and I wanted to know that he wanted me again the way I wanted him. I didn’t want to just be cast aside like I didn’t matter at all. I wanted him to take me again like he’d done last night. And a huge part of me couldn’t believe I was stupid enough to think he might feel the same.

His hand slid down my skirt to the hemline and hovered there for a moment before his fingers slipped underneath the material. I gasped at the heat of his touch, at how his hand continued to move up my thigh until they slid between my legs. Sweat dripped down my neck as he began to move his fingers against my pussy, and a groan slipped through my parted lips.

“I thought so, Emma,” he murmured with a smile. “You’re already wet for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I whispered as his fingers began to move faster. Through my panties and my hose, my pussy ached. I needed him to rip off my clothes and and feel his hands on my skin or I might explode into a quivering mess before him.

“Turn around,” he said, pulling his hand away.

My chest heaving, I stared down at him. A sharp glint in his eyes sent thrills through me, and I did what he said, turning so that my ass was in his face. As soon as I did, he pushed up my skirt and spanked me hard. Pain flickered through my skin, but I gasped out a cry of pleasure at the sensation.

His hands ran up my body as he stood, drifting from my ass to my waist to my breasts. He reached underneath my blouse and tickled my nipples. Dropping my head back, I moaned as they hardened under his touch. I started to turn, but he gripped my arms and pushed me against the floor-to-ceiling window just behind his desk.

My breath whooshed from my throat as my cheek pressed against the cool glass. All of Manhattan spread out below me, and a dizziness began to blur my vision. Pierce’s hard body leaned against my back, and his teeth nibbled at my earlobe. A shower of shivers fell across my skin, and I shuddered, fear and desire pounding through me.

His hands disappeared from my arms, and my body yearned for their return. The sharp sound of a zipper met my ears only seconds before Pierce shoved my skirt higher up my waist. His hands found my ass, ripping my hose away from my skin. He pulled my damp panties down my thighs and pressed his full-length up against me. It throbbed hard, echoing the ache I felt between my thighs.

My breath was hot on the glass, and my heart was racing faster than it ever had in my life. Pierce grabbed my hands and pressed my palms flat against the window, making my breath rush out of my lungs. Stars danced in my eyes as I stared down at the sidewalk, vertigo battling with lust.

Pierce reached down and wrapped his hands around my hips, lifting me so that my toes barely brushed the floor. I scratched my fingernails against the glass just as he thrusted his cock inside me. My head began to spin as he began to fuck me hard, and my slick palms slid against the window, barely clinging on.

His fingers dug harder into my thighs, so hard that his nail pierced my skin. I cried out, overwhelmed by the tornado of emotions spinning through me. This was almost too much for me to take. The intoxicating whirl of fear and pain and pleasure bore down on me like a tidal wave. But I didn’t want it to ever end.

Pierce groaned as he thrusted his cock into my aching sex, and the sound of his pleasure was enough to send me to the edge. I came harder than I could ever remember, my entire body shuddering as I screamed. The stars in my eyes multiplied until I could barely see. Pierce came with me, and his thrusts eased to a stop. He panted hard as he lowered me to the floor and zipped up his pants, spanking me one last time before moving away.

I stared down at the streets of Manhattan while I tried to gather my composure. The glass was marked by my hands and my breath, and my ripped hose was tangled around my legs. Evidence of what I’d let Pierce do to me. My face flamed. I didn’t know why I’d let this happen again.

When I got back to the office, I had to take several deep breaths outside the door before going inside. I was five minutes late, and I knew my face was still flushed from what had happened with Pierce. I’d had to sneak into a restaurant bathroom on the way back and toss away my ruined hose. If my boss noticed they were missing from my legs, I’d be mortified.

I swung open the door and eased back inside the office, stepping quietly to my desk and dropping behind it. Just as soon as my butt hit the chair, my boss swung out of his office. I winced, but tried to keep my face blank.

“Long lunch, Emma?” Max Weathers asked, running a hand through his thinning gray hair.

“I, uh.” I tried to come up with a good excuse, but I had none. He knew I’d only just moved to the city a couple months before, so it wasn’t like I knew many people to meet out for a long lunch. No coworkers either, other than him.

“Doesn’t matter.” He flicked his wrist to glance at his watch and grabbed his coat from the rack by the door. “I need to go out for some fieldwork. If any potential clients come in, please do be sure not to take the case on yourself. Just take down their information and tell them I’ll call them as soon as I can.”

I winced again. Even though Pierce had explained everything to my boss, Max still hadn’t quite gotten over the fact that I’d gone out in the field without asking. Things were still a little tense at the office, though his complaints were more sarcastic comments than anything more serious. He could have reacted a lot worse. I was starting to think he wasn’t such a bad guy, after all. Kind of grumpy at times, but I was starting to think that was part of his charm.

“You know…” He paused at the door and gave me an appraising look. “I should tell you that Pierce Donovan sent over a nice bonus for our services. Well, for the work you did for him. I still don’t approve of you taking on the case, but I have to admit, it’s good to see a happy client.”

I felt a rush of pleasure at his words. But a moment later, the shame followed. If only my boss knew the real reason Pierce had given a bonus, he probably wouldn’t want me even answering phones for him anymore. I wasn’t entirely sure, but there was probably some rule about not letting a client fuck you against his office window.

“That’s great news,” I said in a strained voice, plastering on a fake smile.

“Tell you what.” Max tapped his forehead. “Why don’t you start helping me out with some basic casework on the computer? There’s a folder on my desk. I need a couple of criminal records pulled up from the database. You’ll have the program on your computer, too. Print out the files and leave them on my desk.”

I sat up straighter, hardly believing the words coming out of his mouth. “Of course. Thanks, Mr. Weathers.”

Max gave a nod and left the office, leaving me staring at the closed door. He’d made it pretty clear when he’d hired me that the position involved receptionist tasks only. Answering phones and managing his diary. But, if he was going to start letting me actually help him out with some investigative work, then maybe my college degree wouldn’t turn out so useless after all. It might take awhile for me to prove myself, but at least I now had the chance to take the first step.

After I’d grabbed the folder from Max’s desk, I opened the program on my computer and hoped I’d be able to figure it out. Since I was only hired to answer phones, he’d never given me any training on the programs he used to look into people’s backgrounds, but it all looked simple enough. Smiling to myself, I managed to get the information he needed, print out the records, and file everything neatly in record time.

When I was done, the blinking cursor on the screen made an idea spark in my mind. An idea I should very much ignore. I hadn’t ended up actually checking to see if Pierce still had the photographs when I’d gone to his office. After he’d taken me against the window, I’d gotten out of there as fast as I could. So, I was as unsure of his innocence as I’d been when I’d stormed over there like an idiot.

And now a way to get more information was sitting right in front of me.

Sucking in a sharp breath, I typed in the victim’s name before I could talk myself out of it. I had to know what kind of connection he had to Pierce. If I figured that out, then maybe that would tell me why he’d wanted the man followed, and from that, I would know if it was a serious enough reason to end his life.

The man’s criminal record didn’t give me much information. He’d never been arrested, so he wasn’t in the system, and the only details available were from his driving record. I knew Max had another program on the computer, but I wasn’t sure if I’d be allowed to use it…

I opened up the program. It did the works—listed addresses, cars, phone numbers, and financial details. It felt a little intrusive, but I wanted to know who Michael Astor was. When I put in the man’s name, I scanned the results. Nothing particularly interesting jumped out at me, and I felt disappointment hang heavy on my shoulders. I’d never be able to figure out how Pierce knew this man unless I caught some sort of break.

And if I tried to ask Pierce about it again…well, I knew what would happen then.

My eyes got caught on Michael Astor’s list of properties, and I paused. Not only did he own the apartment in Midtown, but he also had a house in Connecticut, even though his job had been in the city. It wasn’t that strange of a situation, but it was still interesting enough to make me want to look closer. I clicked the link, and the program generated a list of his neighbors in the area.

Leaning forward, I blinked at what I saw. There was no way I was seeing this right. One of his neighbors had a name that was very familiar, and there was no way it could be a coincidence. Chase
Donovan
. In all the articles I’d found on Pierce, the topic of family had been one he’d always brushed off. But what were the odds that another Donovan lived next door to the man Pierce had hired me to follow?

My hands found the phone before I knew what I was doing, and I dialled the landline number listed for Chase. Moments later, the line picked up and a sweet female voice came over the line.

“Hello?” the woman said.

“Hi, yes. I’m looking for Chase Donovan,” I said.

“Chase isn’t home at the moment. May I ask who’s calling?”

I paused, not entirely sure how I wanted to play this. “I’m calling from a genealogy office, and I’m looking into the possible relations of the Donovan family. Does Chase have any living male relatives in the area?”

“I’m sorry.” The woman’s voice went cold. “I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

The phone clicked in my ear, and I frowned. Well, that was certainly strange. I turned back to my computer and put “Chase Donovan” into the text bar to see what would come up on a general Internet search. When the results filled the screen, I jumped up from my chair and pressed my hand to my throat.

Heart hammering hard, I shook my head. Chase Donovan was in his early thirties. He lived in Connecticut, was married, and had two kids. There was a picture of him from his Facebook page with his family. And his wife was the woman I’d taken photos of that night.

I spun in my chair and stared out at the darkening Manhattan sky. Emma Berry kept popping up in my thoughts at the most inopportune moments. This wasn’t like me. I never got hung up on the same girl. I liked variety. I liked control. And I liked girls who were clearly into BDSM.