Kiss of Midnight (Midnight Breed #1)

"Gabrielle."

She was already on her feet and cautiously walking halfway to the door when she heard a voice she recognized at once. She shouldn't know it with such certainty, but she did. Lucan Thorne's deep baritone came through the door and into her bones like a sound she'd heard a thousand times before, soothing her even as it kick-started her pulse into a sudden flutter of anticipation.

Surprised, more pleased than she wanted to admit, Gabrielle unfastened the multiple locks and opened the door to him.

"Hi."

"Hello, Gabrielle."

He greeted her with an unsettling familiarity, his eyes intense beneath the dark slashes of his brows. That piercing gaze traveled a slow, downward path, from the top of her mussed head, to the silk-screened peace sign stretched across her braless chest, to the bare toes peeking out from the flared legs of her low-slung pants.

"I wasn't expecting anyone." She said it as an excuse for her appearance, but Thorne didn't seem to mind. In fact, as his attention came back to her face, Gabrielle felt a sudden flush of heat fill her cheeks for the way he was looking at her.

Like he wanted to devour her where she stood.

"Oh, you have my cell phone," she said, blurting out the obvious when she spotted the gleam of silver metal in his big hand.

He held it out to her. "Later than intended. My apologies."

Was it her imagination, or did his fingers deliberately brush hers as she took the device from his grasp?

"Thanks for returning it," she said, still caught in the hold of his gaze. "Were you, ah... were you able to do anything with the images?"

"Yes. They were very helpful."

She exhaled a sigh, relieved to hear that the police might, at last, be on her side in this. "Do you think you'll be able to catch the guys in the photos?"

"I'm certain of it."

His tone was so dark, she didn't doubt him for a second. Actually, she was getting the feeling that Detective Thorne was a bad guy's worst nightmare.

"Well, that's great news. I've got to admit, this whole thing has been making me a little jumpy. I guess witnessing a brutal murder will do that to a person, right?"

He gave her only the barest nod of agreement. A man of few words, evidently, but then who needed conversation when you had soul-stripping eyes like his?

To her relief and annoyance, from behind her in the kitchen, the oven timer started beeping. "Shit. That's, um - that's my dinner. I'd better grab it before the smoke alarm goes off. Wait here for a sec - I mean, do you want to - ?" She took a calming breath, unused to being so rattled by anyone. "Come in, please. I'll be right back."

Without hesitation, Lucan Thorne stepped inside the apartment as Gabrielle turned to set down her cell phone and liberate her manicotti from the oven.

"Am I interrupting something?"

She was surprised to hear him in the kitchen with her so quickly, as if he had been silently on her heels from the instant she invited him in. Gabrielle lifted the pan of steaming pasta out of the oven and set it down on the range top to cool. She stripped off her hot mitts and turned to give the detective a proud grin.

"I'm celebrating."

He cocked his head to regard the quiet space around them. "Alone?"

She shrugged. "Unless you want to join me."

The mild incline of his chin seemed guarded, but he removed his dark coat and draped it over the back of a counter stool. He was a peculiar, distracting presence, all the more so now that he was standing in her small kitchen - this heavily muscled stranger with the disarming gaze and slightly sinister good looks. He leaned back against the counter and watched her attend to the bubbling dish of baked pasta. "What are we celebrating, Gabrielle?"

"I sold some of my photographs today, in a private showing at a chichi corporate office downtown. My friend Jamie called about an hour ago with the news."

Thorne smiled faintly. "Congratulations."

"Thank you." She pulled an extra glass from the cupboard, then held up her opened bottle of chianti. "Would you like some?"

He shook his head slowly. "Regretfully, I cannot."

"Ah. Sorry," she said, reminding herself of his profession. "On duty, right?"

A muscle jumped in his strong jaw. "Always."

Gabrielle smiled, reaching up to hook some of her loose, curling hair behind her ear. Thorne's gaze followed the movement, and narrowed on the small scratch that marred her cheek.

"What happened to you?"

"Oh, nothing," she replied, not thinking it was a good idea to tell a cop how she spent part of the morning trespassing out at the old asylum. "Just a scrape - hazard of the job from time to time. I'm sure you know how that goes."

She laughed lightly, a bit nervously, because suddenly he was moving toward her, his expression very serious. Just a few smooth paces brought him right up in front of her. His size - his obvious strength - was overwhelming. This close, she could see the thick slabs of muscle that bunched and moved under his black shirt. The fine knit fabric clung to his shoulders, arms, and chest, as if tailored to fit him perfectly.

And he smelled amazing. She didn't detect cologne, only the trace scents of mint and leather, and something darker, like an exotic spice she could not name. Whatever it was, it drenched her senses in something elemental and primal that drew her closer to him when she probably should be backing away.

She sucked in her breath as he reached out to her, the tips of his fingers tenderly grazing her jaw. Heat spread out from that bare contact, flooding her neck as he splayed his hand along the sensitive skin below her ear and around to her nape. With his thumb, he traced the abrasion on her cheek. The scrape had stung when she cleansed it earlier in the day, but now, under his unexpectedly soft caress, she felt no discomfort. Nothing but languid warmth and a slow, swirling ache at her very core.

To her astonishment, he leaned down and dropped a kiss on her marred cheek. His lips lingered there, long enough for her to understand that this was meant as a prelude to something more. She closed her eyes, heart racing. She didn't move, hardly breathed, as she felt Lucan's mouth drift toward hers. He kissed her lips meaningfully, a faint bite of hunger cushioned within the warm press of his mouth. She opened her eyes to find him staring at her. His gaze held an animal wildness that sent a thrill of anxiousness shooting up her spine.

When she finally found her voice, it came out in a small, breathless rasp. "Should you be doing this?"

That penetrating gaze stayed rooted on her. "Oh, yes."

He bent down to her again, brushing his lips over her cheeks, her chin, her throat. She sighed, and he caught her little gasp with a searing kiss, thrusting his tongue between her parted lips. Gabrielle took him in, vaguely aware that his hand was behind her now, slipping beneath the hem of her tee-shirt. He stroked the arch of her bare back, his fingers tenderly brushing her spine. His caress traveled lazily downward, over the fabric of her pants. His strong fingers cupped the curve of her ass, squeezed her tightly. She didn't resist at all as he kissed her deeper and gradually pulled her forward, until her pelvis mashed against the hard muscle of his thigh.

What the hell was she doing? What was she thinking here?

"No," she said, her conscience struggling to surface. "No, wait. Stop." God, how she hated the sound of that word when his mouth was feeling so damned good on hers. "Are you... Lucan... are you with someone?"

"Look around, Gabrielle." His lips dragged over hers as he spoke, making her dizzy with want. "It is only you and me."

"A girlfriend," she blurted between kisses. It was probably a little late to be asking, but she had to know, even if she wasn't at all sure how she would deal with an answer she didn't want to hear. "Do you have a girlfriend? Are you married? Please don't tell me you're married..."

"There is no one else."

Only you.

She was pretty sure he hadn't said those last couple of words, but Gabrielle heard them echo in her mind, warm and provocative, stripping her of any resistance.

Oh, he was good. Or maybe she was just that desperate for him, because that spare, unadorned pledge was all he gave her - that, and the dizzying combination of his tender hands and hot, hungry mouth - and yet she believed him without a shred of doubt. She felt as if his every sense was trained on her alone. As if there was only her, only him, and this burning thing that existed between them.

Had existed, from the moment he first showed up on her doorstep.

"Ohh," she gasped as the breath left her lungs in a slow sigh. She sagged against him, reveling in the feel of his hands on her skin, caressing her throat, her shoulder, the arch of her spine. "What are we doing here, Lucan?"

His low growl of humor hummed beside her ear, deep as night. "I think you know."

"I don't know anything, not when you're doing that. Oh... God."

He broke their kiss for an instant, looking into her eyes as he ground into her with a slow, meaningful thrust. His sex was rigid at her abdomen. She could feel the solid length of him, could feel the sheer size and strength of his shaft, even through the barrier of their clothes. A flood of moist heat surged between her legs at the thought of taking him inside of her.

"This is why I came here tonight." Lucan's voice rumbled beside her ear. "Do you understand, Gabrielle? I want you."

The feeling was more than mutual. Gabrielle moaned, her body writhing against his with a heat she had no power to control.

This wasn't happening, not really. It had to be another crazy dream, like the one she'd had after the first time she met him. She wasn't actually standing in her kitchen with Lucan Thorne, letting this man she hardly knew beyond his name seduce her. She was dreaming - had to be - and before long she was going to wake up on her sofa, alone as usual, with her glass of red wine dumped on the carpet and her dinner burning in the oven.

But not yet.

Oh, God, please... not yet.

Feeling him stroke her skin, burning under the skill of his tongue, was better than any dream, even the delicious one she'd had of him before, if that could be possible.

"Gabrielle," he whispered. "Tell me you want this, too."

"Yes."

She felt his hand working between them, urgent tugging, his breath hot against her neck. "Feel me, Gabrielle. Know how badly I need you."

His fingers were light on hers, guiding her to where his stiff erection protruded, freed from its confines. Gabrielle wrapped her hand around him and gave the velvety shaft a slow, admiring stroke. He was large here as everywhere, and brutally strong, yet so very smooth. The weight of his sex in her hand intoxicated her like a drug. She tightened her grasp and pulled the hard flesh, her fingertips skimming over the thick head.

As she worked her hand along his length and girth, Lucan's body jerked. She felt his hands shake a bit as he moved them from her hips to the loose ties of her pants. He yanked at the knotted cord, his hot exhalation feathering across her scalp in a foreign-sounding oath. There was a rush of cool air against her belly, then the sudden heat of Lucan's palm as he slid his hand inside her panties.

She was wet for him, out of her mind and burning with desire.

His fingers slipped easily through the narrow thatch of curls between her legs, then into her slippery cleft, teasing her with the play of his hand against her aching flesh. She cried out as hunger washed over her in a shivering wave.

"I need you, too," she confessed, her voice threadbare, raw with desire. In response, he eased one long finger inside of her, then another. Gabrielle writhed around that questing, not quite filling caress. "More," she gasped. "Lucan, please... I need... more."

A dark growl boiled out from between his lips as he leaned down and claimed her mouth in another hungry kiss. Her pants came off in a hasty tug of falling fabric. Her panties were next, thin lace snapping under the strength of Lucan's impatient hands. Gabrielle felt air hit her suddenly naked skin, but then Lucan sank down to his knees in front of her and she was on fire before she could take her next breath. He kissed her and licked her, his hands braced hard and unrelenting against her inner thighs, spreading her wider for his carnal desires. The feel of his tongue spearing her flesh, suckling her deep into his mouth, turned Gabrielle's limbs to liquid.

She came swiftly, harder than she could have imagined. Lucan held her firmly in his hands, pressing her damp core to him, giving no quarter as her body quivered and bucked, her breath falling to a strangled gasp as he stroked her toward the crest of another climax. She closed her eyes and dropped her head back on her shoulders, surrendering to him, and to the insanity of this most unexpected encounter. Gabrielle clawed at Lucan's shoulders to hold herself up while her legs went boneless beneath her.

Release bore down on her again. It seized her in a fierce grasp, spun her high into a sensual dreamland, then let her go, and she was falling, falling...

No, she was being lifted she realized from within her sexual daze. Lucan's arms held her tenderly, curved beneath her back and under her knees. He was naked now, and so was she, though she couldn't recall taking off her shirt. She looped her arms around his neck as he carried her out of the kitchen and into the living room, where Sarah McLachlan's voice poured out of the speakers, singing about holding someone down and kissing their breath away.

The soft crush of chenille cushioned her as Lucan placed her down on the sofa and braced himself above her. It wasn't until that moment that she was able to see him fully, and what she saw was magnificent. Six-and-a-half feet of solid muscle and sheer masculine power caging her beneath him, his strong arms hemming her in on either side.