Embracing Midnight by Devyn Quinn Read Free Book Online Page A

wishing she could hide every last inch. “Rhode Island is more like it,” she bit off dryly.
    Hand flying to his heart, Paul winced. “You wound me.”
    “Get over it.” Tired of playing games, Callie bunched the comforter around her body and slid off the bed. Her legs shook but held her weight. “I need a shower.” The garments she’d worn the night before—skirt, bustier, panties, and hose—had been neatly placed on the nearby bureau. Her shoes sat directly below, on the floor.
    Grabbing them, she fled into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. Stopping to catch her breath, she leaned against it for support. Teasing aside, Paul wouldn’t be here unless something had gone down, or was about to. She had no computer, cell phone, or any other high-tech gadgets one would expect a government agent to carry—not even a gun. For this assignment she’d been forced to strip down to the barest essentials. Paul was her go-between with the rest of the team.
    “No time to stand around,” she muttered. She needed to get moving.

5
     
    T urning on the cold tap, Callie stepped into the shower. A blitz of icy water needled her skin. Any desire she felt for Iollan Drake vanished, just what she needed to get her mind out of her crotch and back into her work.
    Adjusting the water to a more comfortable temperature, she washed her hair. Soaping not once but twice, she washed the feel of Drake’s hands off her skin. To her chagrin, the memory stayed in place. Every move of her muscles reminded her of his vigorous lovemaking. Even now her skin tingled in the places he’d caressed and kissed. One thing was for sure. She’d been thoroughly fucked, and fucked well.
    As she washed, she turned Iollan Drake over in her mind, mentally exploring every angle. Definitely like no man she’d ever slept with before, seemingly sincere and totally without guile.
    To keep reminding herself he was a vicious criminal was almost impossible every time she thought about his muscular body and sexy accent. If he were really tied up in a sex cult, then he was responsible for the horrible fates that had befallen countless missing women and men. No matter what her personal feelings toward him might be, the bottom line was solidly drawn.
    Imagine a cockroach , she thought, a defense to guard against his immense charisma. Her feminine instincts warned their paths would cross again.
    Finished with her wash, she stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel. Her hand stopped in midair. A glance in the mirror revealed something she hadn’t been expecting—or was even aware of.
    Water dripping from her skin, Callie stepped closer to the vanity. She planted both hands on either side of the sink, leaning closer to the mirror. Her gaze flicked across her reflection, settling on her left breast. The punctures were shallow, too uneven to be a human bite. A purplish bruise surrounded them, as though the skin had been vigorously sucked.
    She probed the small patch with curious fingers. It hurt. And, oddly, she didn’t remember when he’d inflicted it. Pity. She would have enjoyed it. Still, she’d been marked. Branded by his passion. She found the idea strangely erotic.
    Then reality set in.
    Drake knew she liked pain. And he’d promised the night would be exquisite. Indeed, it had been. The thought that he knew her fetish heated her cheeks. Yes, she’d certainly opened up, in a way she hadn’t intended. Confessing her secret had been utterly out of character. She had a weakness, an Achilles’ heel, and had exposed it without thinking through the consequences. Not a wise move, but nothing in her training had prepared her for last night. I thought I’d slain that demon.
    Apparently not.
    Callie’s mind snapped back to the present. Her mind had leapt off track, and she needed to focus. She reminded herself Drake was a criminal, a stone-cold killer suspected of taking down two of the agency’s own. She shivered when it occurred to her that had she