Hooked by Polly Iyer Read Free Book Online

shiny, dark brown hair tumbled onto his forehead. He wore it long for a cop who wasn’t a narc. Everything about Walsh told her he didn’t follow the rules. A non-conformist. And damn, she still found him attractive.
    When they finished, she signed her room number, and they left. She stayed close to him in the elevator. Closer than close. He didn’t move away. He still had the key card and slipped it into the door slot. He held open the door and followed her inside.
    She turned, trapping him in the small entry. They stood face to face. She moved in until they were body to body. The pace of his breathing increased. She moved closer. Their gazes locked, and she knew what was going to happen. Stop me, Walsh , she wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come. Besides, she pushed this and didn’t want it to stop.
    He leaned down, hesitating. His dark eyes roamed her face, taking in every feature. She always heard vodka didn’t smell, but the odor of alcohol was unmistakable. The tang of lime. The enticing scent of Lincoln Walsh. She breathed him in, filling her senses. Their lips touched, gently at first, then so hard she almost couldn’t breathe. Their tongues teased in her mouth until his kisses covered her cheeks and her ear and the long column of her neck. Her body tingled in anticipation.
    His hardness pressed between her thighs. Before she knew it, he’d whisked her T-shirt over her head and unsnapped her bra. His mouth covered one breast, then the other, sucking hard, causing her to wince from the sheer blissful pleasure, a prologue to what she knew would follow.
    She tore off his shirt and ran her hands all over the rippling muscles of his back, biting his shoulder and ear lobe, sucking his neck. It all happened so fast. This wasn’t like anything she’d ever felt before. Men had always been clients, customers. Always business, no emotions involved. Walsh turned her on like no one had in a very, very long time.
    After he unbuckled his belt, his slacks fell to the floor, and he kicked out of them. Then she helped him remove hers. Stooping down, he thrust his tongue into her wetness. All she could do was moan, “Ohhh,” in a long breath, weak from the thrill. Bringing her almost to climax, he stopped and kissed and licked his way up her belly to the tips of her nipples, his tongue’s delicate touch sending shivers through her, his gentle nibbling sparking volts of electricity, turning every sense radioactive.
    God, he was beautiful. This couldn’t be happening. Not to her. Not after all these years.
    Then he lifted her up against the wall, and she wound her legs around him, over his hips, locking him into her. Guiding his slick erection inside her, he whispered softly in her ear, “Business is over for the night.” He stopped, met her gaze. “Or is it?”
    It took a moment for his meaning to sink in. Pain stabbed her chest. Shaky and disoriented, she unwound herself, set her feet on the floor, and pushed him back with such force he hit the other side of the entry hall with a thud. Her heart started beating again, pounding like a piston. Her throat knotted.
    “Get out, Walsh.” The thrill she felt only moments before collapsed like a house of cards, fast and messy, jagged pieces all over her insides. A rushing sound filled her ears, and the room spun.
    He stood naked, his empty arms outstretched. “I didn’t mean it like that,”
    She picked up his clothes off the carpet, opened the door, and threw them into the hall. “Get. Out.”
    He followed her into the bathroom as she gathered his toiletries off the counter and put his hands on her shoulders, turning her around. “It came out all wrong. I made a mistake.”
    She fought to keep the tears from flooding her eyes. Fought to keep the sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach from erupting. This is what happened when you let down your guard. You got hurt. She damn well knew better. “You’re right,” she managed to say. “Our business is over for