Mouth To Mouth. Erin McCarthy

Mouth To Mouth - Erin McCarthy


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in his jeans. She rocked against him, felt him groan.

      “This isn’t a test either, is it? To make sure I do the right thing and don’t talk to strange men?”

      “I don’t mean it to be a test, but we need to be clear on that. While I’m with you, you can’t be making plans with other guys. I don’t like that. When you’re mine, you’re only mine, even if it’s just for one night.”

      She liked the sound of that. “Okay, I won’t talk to other guys.”

      “Same goes for me. I won’t make plans with other women.” His hands gripped the small of her back, held her tight against him, and he shook her a little. “And no e-mails to Dean, promise me, Laurel.”

      She bit her lip. “But I already sent one.”

      Oh, God, she was going to kill him. Russ fought the urge to sigh, feeling himself sliding deeper and deeper into something he didn’t know how to label. He wasn’t coming on to Laurel because he felt sorry for her, that was true. But he did feel protective of her, ready to go at anyone who might want to hurt her.

      His desire to catch Dean grew tenfold. As did his desire to satisfy Laurel so completely she wouldn’t need to look at another man for ten years.

      “What did you say to Dean?”

      Laurel backed up, gestured to her computer, blinked large blue eyes at him. “Well, he sent me that e-mail apologizing, you know, and I thought that I could help you and the police if I kept an open communication with him. So I, ah, suggested we make plans to meet again.”

      His head was going to explode. That had to be the only explanation for the crushing pressure he felt at his temples.

      “Tell him you’ve changed your mind.” There was no way he was allowing her to act as bait. He couldn’t be with her every second, and somehow, some way, he just knew she’d wind up hurt.

      Dean had never once shown himself to be violent, but when backed into a corner, rats will attack.

      “Why?” she asked, not defiantly, just looking confused.

      “Because Dean usually goes for the small potatoes. A couple thousand here, a couple thousand there. He has to know who you are, where you live. He’s going to go hard and fast for you.”

      “All the more reason I should keep in touch with him. All you need is for him to show up, right? Then you can arrest him on the evidence you already have, right?”

      “Yes.” They could take him in for questioning, fingerprint him.

      “How do you know he’s using all these different aliases anyway?”

      “Once we started piecing together that these women had identical stories, we started lifting prints off things he left behind with the women. Dean had an arrest at eighteen for forgery, so we had his prints. Eventually, we connected him to five aliases. But the problem is, when someone is never using their real name and is sponging off other people financially, it can be hard to find him.”

      And Dean was good at hiding, Russ had to admit.

      “That’s why you need me, then.”

      He needed Laurel for a lot of reasons, all involving the erection he was sporting right now that wouldn’t go away. Not for a criminal investigation. “That’s sweet of you to offer, honey, but I don’t want you involved.”

      “You don’t think I can do it. You think I’ll screw up, or panic, or blow your cover.”

      Oh, hell, now Laurel was glaring at him. This was why he didn’t have a girlfriend. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing when it came to understanding women and keeping them happy.

      “I don’t want you hurt.”

      “I can’t get hurt sending e-mails.”

      They stared each other down, and damn it, he was the first to look away.

      Laurel smiled and he knew he was screwed.

      “Make sure you save everything he sends you.”

      “I will.”

      Russ turned and bent to reach for his shoes. “I’ll pick you up at six, then. Tonight.”

      Laurel tapped his shoulder. “I can’t see your lips.”

      He wondered how frustrating that must be for her, yet she never looked ticked off. Just patient, curious. He was embarrassed that he couldn’t seem to remember that she was deaf.

      “Sorry. I said I’ll pick you up at six, okay?”

      “Okay.” She leaned closer to him, so that he could smell the sweet sugary scent that seemed to cling to her. “I’m looking forward to it, Russ.”

      Oh, so was he. More than she could imagine.

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