Page 23 of Dirty Love

I flash my badge at them and she rolls her eyes. Okay, so she knows it’s a ruse now. I couldn’t bring myself to use a fake email address. That doesn’t stop me from telling them we need the room, because that’s an effective way to be alone with her.

Izzie grabs a bag and they scurry across the hall to the other suite.

I wait until we’re alone to speak. I take the time to notice the difference in the suite from the daytime—the only lighting is a few lamps, and it’s almost…cozy. “You summoned me?”

She scowls. “I did, but I thought I was clear in my message that you should bring your partner.”

“He’s flown back to D.C.”

“That’s a shame.” She flicks her gaze to the door, like she wants her friends to come back. Not going to happen.

“How did you know I’d stick around?”

She rolls her eyes. “You were practically gagging for an invitation into my pants. You got all turned on as an interview subject stripped down like a nut job. Someone you thought was a victim of some horrible trauma.”

“You said you weren’t a victim.” That’s weak, even to my ears. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.” And that’s even weaker.

“Really?” She smirks.

“You’re a beautiful woman…” Fuck, I suck at this. This is why I bang hookers.

She shakes her head and laughs. “That’s the thing about being dirty. Sometimes it’s the things we don’t want to want that turn our cranks the hardest.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“That’s me.” She drops her hand, letting her robe fall open. Beneath it she’s naked, her bare, lush skin glowing in the lamplight. My gaze falls to the black tattoo I missed earlier, when she had her back to me, and my cock strains at my zipper as I take in what she’s offering me.

Black ink swirls across her lower belly, disappearing over her hips like a reverse chastity belt—an invitation to sin.

I huff out a frustrated breath.Fucked up? Me too.

She moves closer, sliding her arms over my shoulders, her breath puffing hot air against my mouth. “What are you afraid of? What do you want to do to me?”

Pulling her hard against me, I grind her against my jeans, my hands gripping her hips so hard I must be leaving fingerprint shaped bruises. “Everything.”

“Then let me call them back.” She yanks herself out of my grasp and paces backward, her breasts swaying hypnotically. “Because I don’t do one-on-one anything.”

I prowl after her. “Why?”

She shakes her head. “You don’t get to ask me that. You can stay and fuck me with some friends, or you can go. We don’t talk.”

“We’re talking right now.”

She bumps into the console desk behind her and I keep going until I’m up against her. I lift her roughly, setting her ass on the desk.

Her legs wrap around me. “Go away.”

“Your show tonight…”

She goes rigid in my arms. “Were you there?”

“Of course I was there.”

She shoves against my chest and I step back enough to let her set her feet down. She rubs the back of her neck. “Jesus. I thought I…” She shakes her head. “Who are you? Really?”

I close my eyes. This is a bad idea. Knowing that doesn’t stop me. “My name is Wilson Carter. I’m a partner in a crisis management firm in Washington, D.C.”

“What is your real interest in me?”

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