Captivate Me Page 7

  He should let her go. And he tried. But he couldn’t concentrate. Not when she was down there, dancing, drinking and flirting with random strangers.

  The memory of her stripping for him kept tormenting him, interspersed with the vision of that goon’s hands on her hips and his body plastered against her. Beckett didn’t want her taking her clothes off for anyone else.

  Finally, he gave up any pretense of working and stalked back to the window.

  She was easy to spot—apparently he had a sixth sense where Alyssa Vaughn was concerned.

  Her friend was sandwiched between two guys, and since they were at least a foot taller she almost disappeared. But that flash of platinum blond was hard to miss. The men had their hands all over her body, and the little pixie didn’t seem to mind at all.

  Beckett had seen enough hookups to recognize a wild night in the making.

  Several feet away, Alyssa was oblivious to the male attention centered squarely on her pulsing body. She held a drink in her hand, something pink and girlie. Even from this distance it was clear she’d managed to down a few more of them since she’d walked out of his office.

  The night she’d danced solely for him she’d been graceful and fluid, but now her body was made of liquid silver—rolling, gyrating, pumping. Her eyes were closed, the music flowing straight through her muscles.

  Around her, a tiny circle of spectators had formed. Several of the men reached out, running their hands over her to try and coax her toward them. But the moment someone touched, Alyssa twisted away. It was clear she wasn’t interested.

  He should stay upstairs. He knew it. But after fifteen minutes of watching, every muscle in his body was pulled so tight he was afraid they would all snap.

  And it was a damn good thing he was paying attention or he might have missed it.

  Standing at his window, he watched Alyssa push against the throng at the bar and order another drink. The minute the bartender placed it in front of her, a guy to her left leaned in close and yelled something to her.

  Turning, she answered. And while she wasn’t looking the guy to her right slipped something into her drink.

  “Goddammit,” Beckett snarled beneath his breath.

  Snatching up the radio connected to the com units all of his security staff wore, he was barking orders at his head of security before he was halfway across his office. “We’ve got a guy spiking drinks. By the bar. Late twenties, blond hair, wearing a red T-shirt. Get him and his friend.”

  Heart pounding, he raced onto the dance floor, pushing and shoving his way through the crowd. Why the hell didn’t his bartenders have coms? He was fixing that first thing tomorrow. He should have had a way to communicate with them, have them pull Alyssa’s drink before she could swallow any.

  By the time he reached her, he knew it was too late. Her glass was half empty. Security had reached them first, although Alyssa obviously had no idea what was going on. Beckett’s priority had been detaining the guys so he could figure out what she’d been given.

  Two burly guys had collared the assholes. Wrapping their arms behind their bodies and holding them with beefy hands at their necks, the two were already being led toward the back of the club. They were struggling, yelling and protesting. But no one was stopping to help. In fact, the crowd around simply scooted out of the way, gawking at the show.

  He paid good money for intimidating security who knew what they were doing. Not many people were willing to mess with them, especially when they didn’t have a dog in the fight.

  Wrapping an arm around Alyssa’s waist, Beckett swept her along in the wake of the four men.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, fighting his hold.

  “Saving your ass.”

  She tried to twist away. “From what? The only thing I need saving from is you.”

  He had to give it to her, she was lithe and fast. The little minx slipped right through his fingers, twisting back around to the bar and the drink she’d left there. She had it halfway to her lips already when he reached her again.

  He smacked it straight out of her hand. The cup clattered back to the bar, the rest of the contents spilling across the surface. His bartender, who’d clued in to what must be going on, was already there waiting for instructions.

  “Clean this up,” Beckett ordered right over Alyssa’s “What the hell?”

  She shoved him. But Beckett was past the point of soft and easy. Someone had tried to hurt her. Most likely planned to rape her. And she was fighting him.

  Cornering her against the bar, he leaned in real close. Staring straight into her wide, pale eyes, he growled, “Those two assholes spiked your drink. Would you please stop fighting me so I can figure out what they gave you and take care of you?”

  Alyssa’s mouth popped open. Her dark pink lips were an unintentional invitation he was having a very hard time ignoring, but kissing her right now was a bad idea. Very bad.

  A strangled squeak finally escaped and he watched her entire body sag against the hard edge of the bar. Wrapping his arm around her waist again, he tugged her back into the shelter of his body.

  This time she didn’t protest, but went quietly, allowing him to clear a path through the crowd for them both.

  They were back in the darkened, quiet hallway again when the radio on his hip squawked. “GHB, boss.”

  Beckett swore.

  “What does that mean?” Alyssa asked in a small voice that made his chest ache and his fists clench with the need to punch something. Hard.

  Hitting the button, he ordered, “Call the cops. Have the incident reported. I doubt this is their first rodeo. And then ban them from every single one of my goddamn clubs for life.”

  God, he hated predators. Especially the ones who thought they could come into his house and use it like their personal playground.

  There’d been a time in his life when he would have taken care of the problem personally. But as much as his instincts were screaming at him to pound them into the ground for trying to hurt Alyssa, he couldn’t do that.

  “You wanna talk to them first, boss?”

  He was smart enough to realize if he came within ten feet of them his control was likely to snap.

  “No,” he ground out. Besides, Alyssa was his first priority. GHB was fairly fast acting. She was probably going to start feeling the effects at any moment. “Tell the cops I have the victim and she’ll come in tomorrow to make her statement. I have my cell if you need me. Understand?”

  “Loud and clear.”

  Beckett didn’t slow until they were in the lot behind the club where his employees parked. It was safer to keep them separated from patrons. That way he and his security staff could control access.

  His low, sleek Maserati sat right by the door, black as night. He loved his car. It was one of the first things he’d bought for himself when he’d become successful. It wasn’t the latest and greatest, which his father delighted in pointing out every chance he got. But that wasn’t because he couldn’t afford something newer and flashier.

  This car was his. He’d earned it on his own. And he was damn proud of that.

  Opening the passenger door, Beckett ushered Alyssa in. She hesitated for several seconds but finally sat without protest. He was grateful for small miracles.

  Rounding the hood, he was inside and shooting through the parking lot as soon as she’d had a chance to snap on her seat belt.

  “Text your friend. Let her know what happened and that you’re safe.”

  “I don’t know what happened,” she said, but pulled out her cell anyway.

  “You’ve been given GHB. Liquid Ecstasy.”

  She made a small sound.

  “Turn the car around.”

  Beckett glanced at her. She sat there, her body enveloped by the protective leather of his car.
Pissed. Her body vibrated with barely controlled fury, skin flushed hot and eyes burning.

  “Why?”

  “So I can kill them,” she growled.

  Beckett couldn’t stop the laughter, not at the mental image of her taking her pound of flesh from both of the guys—he had no doubt she could pull it off. She might be small, but she was strong and probably packed a hell of a punch.

  Part of him wanted to do what she’d asked. She deserved the chance, if nothing else. Besides, that was a sight he’d surely love to see, her face flushed with anger, those green eyes flashing with determination and danger.

  The problem was that in a few minutes she wasn’t going to be in any physical shape to follow through on the bloodlust coloring her features.

  “Not gonna happen, princess.”

  Transferring her anger to the easy target, Alyssa’s charged gaze swung to him. He could feel the fiery slice of it running across him, but kept his eyes trained on the road.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “To my place.”

  “No. Take me home.”

  Beckett just shook his head. “It’s Mardi Gras, Alyssa. You live in the Quarter. Any minute now the drug is going to kick in and you’re not going to be in any shape to fight your way through that to get home.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she ground out between clenched teeth.

  “Ever taken GHB?”

  “No.”

  Beckett shot her a pointed look. “You’re going to get touchy-feely and euphoric. Sexually stimulated. You want to be alone when that happens?”

  “Better than with you. I don’t trust you.”

  He shrugged. “You don’t have to. I don’t take advantage of intoxicated women.”

  Something dark and dangerous flashed across her features. Her mouth thinned into a tight line. She was angry. With him. But he had no idea why.

  And he really didn’t have time to figure it out. At least, not now.

  “I’ve already called a friend, a neighbor who works as a doctor in the emergency room. She’ll come over and check you out, draw blood. The police will want a drug test so they can charge the guys responsible.”

  Beckett pulled into the underground garage beneath his apartment complex. Without waiting for further protest, he jumped from the car and stalked around the hood.

  Before he could get to her, the door was flung open. Alyssa leaped out, her feet spread wide and her hands balled into fists on her hips. She glared at him, her chest rising and falling as if she’d just run several miles. He tried not to notice the swell of her breasts pressing against the liquid silver of her top, but it was damn hard.

  Her mouth opened. He had no doubt that whatever she was about to say was only going to piss him off. But before any words could fall, the strangest expression crossed her face. And then she swayed.

  “Damn,” Beckett swore under his breath, surging forward to grab her.

  Alyssa’s body slumped against his car. She stared up at him with those pale-green eyes that had the ability to cut straight through him. They were wide and unfocused, her pupils dilated.

  Reaching up, he smoothed the stray strands of hair that had fallen out of her high ponytail.

  Her mouth snapped shut. A soft whimper slipped out as she pushed her cheek into his fingers. She turned for more, searching for the stimulation and pleasure of touch.

  He tried to tell himself any touch would be getting this reaction from her right now. She was high. But as she tried to nuzzle closer, his body didn’t understand the distinction.

  Dropping his hand from her skin was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. Putting space between them, he bent down. Staring her in the eye he said, “You’re safe with me, Alyssa. I promise. This happened at my club. Let me take care of you.”

  Slowly, she nodded and tried to take a step away from his car. She stumbled. Without pause, Beckett swept her up into his arms.

  Her hands dropped around his neck, burying deep in the hair at his nape and holding tight. Her face snuggled into his throat. She sighed, the gust of air tickling his skin and making him throb and ache.

  A few minutes of torture and he could have her safely in his guest bedroom.

  Her hot lips found his skin. Beckett bit back a groan. She trailed her mouth down his neck and shoulder, kissing, nipping and driving him insane.

  With insistent fingers, she tugged at his shirt collar, trying to get access to more. Every cell in his body was begging him to stop moving and give her exactly what she wanted. What they both wanted.

  But he’d regret that. And so would she—if she remembered. He didn’t want that.

  The first time he had her, Beckett wanted her to remember every earthshaking moment.

  Trying to disengage her hold on his clothes without dropping her was like fighting an octopus. The woman was stronger than she looked. Especially when she wanted something.

  Which only stoked the fire in his gut higher.

  He’d already known she’d be wild in bed when she finally let free.

  Clenching his teeth, Beckett fought every instinct screaming inside his head. He’d never been so happy to make it into his penthouse. Alyssa didn’t even pause to look around, just kept touching and kissing and teasing.

  “God, you feel so good. Soft and silky and...hmmm,” she purred in the back of her throat, brushing her lips back and forth across his skin.

  “Men don’t appreciate being called soft, princess,” Beckett admonished.

  “But you are.” Her words were slurred. “Sleek and soft on top, but underneath...all compact, hard muscle. What the hell do you do? Spend four hours a day in the gym?”

  Beckett smothered a laugh.

  Her hands slid down between them, digging into his abs. The muscles there contracted against the pleasure of her touch. He wanted more. Craved it, as much as any drug. “You should be illegal. How am I supposed to resist you?”

  She pulled back, staring straight into his eyes. “God, you’re beautiful.”

  “Men don’t like to be called beautiful, either, sweetheart,” Beckett whispered, his voice gravelly with suppressed need.

  “But you are.”

  Desperate for some separation before his control crumbled completely, Beckett let her body slither down his until her feet hit the floor. He’d planned to back away, but the moment he tried she staggered sideways.

  That, more than anything, worked to clear the fog of arousal invading his brain.

  Putting his hands on her shoulders, Beckett pushed gently until her body folded and she sat on the side of the bed. The skirt she was wearing flared around her hips, leaving her thighs half-bare. She didn’t seem to notice or care.

  Beckett knelt at her feet, reaching to undo the straps on her sandals. The memory of their first encounter flashed through his mind, her bent over a long creamy thigh, unbuckling another shoe.

  Not helping. Not helping at all, he admonished his brain.

  Alyssa leaned toward him, running her hands over his shoulders and down his back. Her fingertips found the hem of his shirt and slipped beneath.

  He sucked a sharp breath through his teeth. His hands tightened, one around her calf and the other at her ankle. Part of him worried he was hurting her, but it was either that or push her backward and give in to the need racing through him.

  “You have to stop that,” he ground out on a guttural groan.

  “Why?” she asked, her voice slow and dreamy.

  “Because you don’t know what you’re doing.” Reaching behind him, he untangled her fingers and brought them to her knees. And held them in place with the weight of his own.

  “I’m hanging on by a thread, princess. Help me out before we both do something we’ll regret.”

  Misery flashed through
her eyes, cutting him straight to the bone. “You’d regret sleeping with me? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Why would a few years make any difference?”

  “Hell, no,” he said in a low rumble. “From the moment I saw you on that balcony, I’ve thought of nothing but having you. I don’t want you to regret it. Even if you probably won’t remember any of this in the morning.”

  Beckett didn’t realize what he’d said—and revealed—until the words were out of his mouth. But by then it was too late to take them back. Although Alyssa didn’t seem to notice. She was focused solely on the fact that he did want her.

  Beckett couldn’t stop the feeling of relief—and guilt—that flooded him.

  Insistent fingers back at his shirt, she begged, “I want to touch you. Please, let me touch you. If I won’t remember then there’s no harm in letting go and giving in to what I want.”

  Hearing her say she wanted him as much as he wanted her was more temptation than he could beat back.

  Lifting his arms high into the air, he let her pull the shirt over his head. But that was all he was losing. And she was keeping every stitch of clothing on.

  Teasing fingertips ghosted across his skin, dipped into the valleys of his abs and smoothed across his ribs. Sharp, white teeth dug into the tempting flesh of her lower lip. He wanted to tug it free. To soothe the marks she was putting there and taste the sweetness of her mouth.

  But he didn’t trust himself that far.

  So he knelt there, propped up on his heels, and let her explore. Groaning, he closed his eyes and let his head drop back in pure ecstasy.

  This was as much torture as watching her strip and knowing he couldn’t touch. No, this was worse. She was right here. Willing and eager. And still, he couldn’t have her.

  As far as torture tactics went, this was far beyond anything ever devised.

  Was it wrong that he hoped she’d pass out soon? And prayed she wouldn’t?

  God, it was going to be a long night.

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