Lawe's Justice - Lora Leigh [23]
The soft hiss was a sound most people would have never detected, but most people hadn’t been trained by her paranoid uncle.
Perhaps paranoid was the wrong word to use. Her very cautious uncle.
In that second, her weapon cleared the holster she wore at the small of her back. The small laser-powered personal defense handgun had the look of the old-style Glock the military once issued, but it contained all the power of the adjustable laser-powered rifles.
The bursts of fiery energy could knock a man off his feet or put a hole in him the size of a bowling ball.
“Put your weapon down, wildcat. It’s just me.”
Diane froze, the weapon still held at her thigh by both hands as the door swung open and he stepped in.
Just me. Just—there was no “just” where Lawe Justice was concerned. There was nothing so simple as that word implied.
Confident, powerful, a supreme male animal and as fucking alpha as he could get, he stepped into the suite as though it belonged to him.
He was complicated, powerful, mysterious and rakish, wicked and seductive, and her entire body seemed to flood with warmth at the sight of him.
Diane remained still, her jaw locked in a deliberate attempt to exert control over herself and her reaction to the sound of the dark, sexually intent tone that had her body wanting to melt.
There were nights when the thought of him, of the touch she ached for, tormented her to the point that she wondered if perhaps he didn’t own a part of her already. At the very least, he owned her fantasies, her erotically charged, sensually tormented fantasies since the first moment when she had opened her eyes to find him standing above her.
Tall, his shoulders broad, his body powerful, the thick, heavy length of his black hair was much longer than it had been the last time she had seen him. He looked as dangerous as she knew he was. As primal and as savagely intense as she sensed he was.
Denim encased long, powerful legs and rode low on his hips to be cinched by a leather belt at his muscular hips. A white cotton shirt, the arms folded to the elbow covered wide shoulders and an impressive chest. Heavy Western boots covered his feet, a silver chain riding low around the heel.
He looked good enough to take a bite of, and her mouth watered to do just that.
The dark overnight growth of a beard shadowed his lower face—most Breeds couldn’t grow a full beard, but that rakish, next-day growth was the norm for those who allowed that sexy to-die-for look. And that was exactly the look Lawe was going for tonight. The look that stripped her down to bare bones, hard-core sex and the need to ride him until they were both exhausted.
Not that it would take her long to reach exhaustion after the past three months and a search that had driven her bat-shit crazy. But what a way to go.
“What are you doing here?” First replacing the weapon, she then unclipped the holster before walking through the suite. Passing the small living area as Lawe stepped into the room, she moved to the bed where she laid the weapon on the bedside table before turning to face him.
“What I’m doing here should be rather obvious.” Midnight black brows formed a V between the intense ice-cold violet blue eyes that swept over her.
Cold, cold eyes. She could never see what he was thinking, and she sure as hell had no idea how he felt from one second to the next. But she wanted to. There had been times she would have given anything to see behind the ice in his gaze.
“If you say so,” she agreed with a hint of mockery. “I’ve arrived safe and sound, Lawe, so you can go back to your own room, your own place or wherever you’re sleeping now. I’ll give you my report when I give it to Jonas in the morning. I’m too tired for the third degree tonight.”
She often wondered where he slept. And with whom. Rumor was, Lawe spent very few nights alone and his sexuality sure as hell didn’t rest.
She knew the Bureau had several