Boiling Point (Crossing the Line #3) Read online

  She lifted her hand, noticed it was trembling, and took a deep breath, pleased when her knock sounded firm. Assertive. Not ready for any bullshit.

  The heavy oak door opened approximately two feet and came to an abrupt stop, revealing the hotel room, bright and sunlit this time. Polly’s muscles tensed when a beat of heavy expectancy passed, opened her mouth to call out—

  A blur of white shirtsleeve snaked out through the opening, strong fingers binding her wrist and dragging her inside. A decisive click signaled the door’s being closed, the breath propelled from her lungs when she was backed up against it. By Austin. Which Austin? Which one? Her mind tried to cloud over, an effect of his sudden presence, but she fought clear.

  He caged her in with forearms laid flat on either side of her head, golden eyes flecked with silver taking her measure. Shrewd and sexual. Predatory. So alive with intelligence that her nerve endings tingled in response.

  “Did you come to play, pretty Polly?” He laid a hand on her neck, making her pulse jump. His thumb brushed back and forth in the hollow of her throat, once, twice. “We’re going to have a little talk first, you and I.”

  Oh, he had nerve, making demands after pulling a disappearing act and sending her running across town. “Why do you think I came here?”

  Without breaking eye contact, his thumb detoured to the skin beneath her cotton T-shirt. “I can think of a few reasons. They all end in you begging and sobbing with your legs spread.” He touched his tongue to the corner of his mouth. “Flexible girl, aren’t you? Gives me a lot of options how to accomplish that.”

  “Stop.” She breathed through her nose, unable to calm the desire that sprang to life. He was backlit by the almost-blinding sunlight, his face shadowed in contrasting darkness. It should have multiplied her unease, but not being able to fully make out his features only presented an excuse to give in to the need he inspired. Withstand it. He’s doing it on purpose. “What happened back in the meeting?”

  “Indeed, I have the same question.” Polly had no time to prepare before Austin whirled her around, pressing her forward until her cheek met the smooth door. A strangled cry spilled from her mouth, purse dropping to the ground. Bracing her hands against the door, she pushed herself backward, but only met Austin’s hard body. Mouth open against her neck, he walked them both forward, flattening Polly between him and the door. “I can’t hold a fucking conversation while looking at your lips. They still have your teeth marks on them from last night.”

  A tickle moved upward, starting from the insides of Polly’s knees and spreading, spreading to encompass everything. Lord, how could he conduct her body like a symphony? It wasn’t fair. Breathing deeply, Polly closed her eyes, commanding herself to remember why she’d come there. “I’m waiting for an answer. You lost it back there.”

  “Did I?” Austin murmured, the fingers of his right hand curling in the hem of her skirt, scant inches beneath the flesh he’d become too well acquainted with in that very room. “Maybe you’re just more attuned to me than most.” The tight material was drawn slowly up her thighs, where he left it gathered just below her hips. Polly’s mouth fell open in a silent moan when one skilled male finger dragged down the underside of her panties, stopping to tap in a slow rhythm against that ultrasensitive spot. “You knew just how much I could take yesterday, didn’t you? Knew just how to give it to me.”

  “I-I didn’t come here to…talk about that.”

  “Did you come here to admit you went to Derek behind my back?”

  “What?” Polly stiffened, immobilized by outrage. “Why would I do that? You think I want the cops on this? Cops make deals, cops destroy evidence and fumble around with red tape we don’t have. I wouldn’t.”

  Austin continued as if she hadn’t spoken, but Polly sensed him filing away her statement in some internal hard drive. Sensed that she’d somehow convinced him with her honesty that she hadn’t played him. “I didn’t lose it back in that room to anyone but you.” His mouth found her ear, tongue tracing the entire curve in one long, groaning lick. “And I don’t care if it’s sick, I love it. What would you have done if we were alone and you saw me breaking, sweet?” His easy touch turned rough, his big hand clutching her core and holding tight, tighter, until Polly cried out, knees bumping the door. “Would you have slapped some sense into me?”

  “Yes.” The word released on an unsteady exhale, surprising even Polly. As did the rush of control the revelation allowed to sweep in. “Maybe I’ll just do it now.”

  “If it pleases you,” he enunciated just above her head. “Although I feel my slap in the face already came in the form of the green-eyed monster. You made me jealous, Polly, and I didn’t like it.” His grip increased in power, ripping a gasp from her throat. “Your pleasure comes from me. Any hint to the contrary is unwelcome. I thought we had an understanding.”

  “You left.” Oh God, the mortification. Polly wanted to slam her head against the door at having disclosed such a typical insecurity, but now that the reason for her initial irritation this morning had set itself free, it ran rampant. “I woke up and you’d left me a tea bag. What am I supposed to do with that?” Her jaw felt like it might shatter from grinding her teeth. “And you want to talk about jealousy? Do you, really? After leaving me without a note or…or even a-a text…you show up with a gift for someone else.”

  She struggled against his hold, twisting to get away, but he only shoved her back up against the door. “You made me jealous with Henrik because I left.” He sounded like a man trying to solve a riddle, which should have brought on the century’s biggest eye roll, but his touch had turned soothing between her legs, petting over her lace-covered flesh the way one might stroke a kitten. “I spent the morning tracking down an old contact, Polly. A Chicago man who could give us a lead on Reitman.” His voice turned to a gruff whisper, mouth laying a lingering kiss on the back of her neck. “I thought information would please you more than breakfast in bed. A rare misjudgment on my part, it would appear.”

  “No.” Stupid. So stupid for her heart to be beating so damn fast. They’d agreed he would help her. He’d taken steps to keep his word. That was all. She desperately needed to corral her hormones. “What did you find out?”

  “In a minute, sweet. This might be the last time you allow me to touch.” Austin’s breath moved the hair at her nape, his capable middle finger hooking around the crotch of her panties and tugging them aside for his index finger to explore. “Wouldn’t that be a shame when I haven’t yet had the honor of screwing you with my tongue? That little spot we discovered yesterday wouldn’t be too difficult to reach. We’d hook those knees beneath your arms and pray you could keep them up.” Without warning, the panties were jerked high against her center and tugged, creating unexpected and devastating friction. Back and forth. Back and forth. “Could you keep your knees up, Polly? Or would you clamp your thighs around my head? I need you to let me find out.”

  Already she could feel the approaching climax, felt the inner walls of her core convulsing, searching for his absent fingers, begging for the erection she could feel against her bottom. But the urgent edge to his words forced her to concentrate. No, it was more than that. His behavior back at the meeting. Something was wrong, and they couldn’t go any further until they turned the page and found each other. “Why might this be the last time, Austin?”

  He almost managed to disguise his sigh of frustration, but she heard it. Or maybe she felt it. Connected to him. His touch was suddenly absent between her legs, both hands pressing to the door in front of her face. When his hips began to circle in slow, seductive thrusts against her backside, lace and a zipper all that separated them from guaranteed ecstasy, she almost gave in and let him seduce her into what, according to him, could be the final time their bodies were joined together. Why? No. Don’t want that, despite everything. Following instincts she’d only just begun to recognize, Polly reached up with her own hands and laid them on top of Austin’s bigger ones.

  B
ehind her, Austin stilled. The sudden lack of sexual movement almost bred regret inside Polly, until his forehead dropped to her shoulder. It stayed there while they caught their breath and then lifted. “Polly, listen to me. I—” He broke off, his hands turning over in a lightning move to clasp her fingers. “What’s happened to your nails?”

  She’d forgotten. Really, it had been a decision made during such raging internal conflict after leaving the hotel this morning, it had gotten lost in the current of anger, confusion, and lust. Upon walking into her apartment, she’d gone straight to her bathroom with the intention of taking a shower, but she’d flung open the medicine cabinet instead and snatched up the fingernail clippers. She hadn’t simply trimmed her nails; she’d kind of demolished them. The skin beneath was red and angry, her nails shorn to the point that she wouldn’t be scratching any itches for weeks.

  “Polly?” Austin brought them back over her shoulder to his mouth and kissed each individual one, a frantic use of lips. “Ah, sweet. What have you done?”

  The nickname, usually employed with sensual intention, used instead as an endearment untied some vital knot inside her. “You don’t like those marks on your back, and I won’t contribute to them again.” She turned to meet his eyes, chaotic in the shadows. “I’m sorry that I did.”

  Austin looked like a man who’d just glimpsed tragedy, which made no sense. He kissed her damaged fingers one final time and replaced her hand on the door with a gentleness that made her throat close up, the picture of a man on the way to his own execution. With the utmost care, he tugged her skirt back into place. When he finally stepped back, she felt the few feet of distance in her bones. “I’m the one who’s sorry.”

  …

  How unfitting that Polly should be bathed in pure white sunlight when bitter darkness fought to get free of him. She turned to face Austin, appearing almost angelic but for the caution in every gorgeous feminine line of her body. That wariness was a testament to her intelligence, and he appreciated it, while wanting to melt it away with his touch. If he hadn’t seen the abused tips of her fingers, he’d have her in bed now, halfway to her second orgasm. But he had. He’d seen the evidence that she’d felt…regret over hurting him. And double damn if heavy responsibility hadn’t come with that knowledge. It pressed down on his sternum, making it hard to inhale. She’d done something to prevent him pain. Affording her the same respect was his only option, even if it meant placing her out of his reach.

  Life had been so much easier as a selfish prick.

  Seeing that her T-shirt was untucked, Polly did an adorable double take that made his heart lurch, smoothing the fabric back under her waistband. “Why are you sorry, Austin?”

  Needing to buy himself a little more time with her in the sun, Austin crossed to the mini-fridge, opened it and plucked out two small bottles of Jameson. Unbelievable. His hands could barely function well enough to twist off the metal caps, clumsy under the mere prospect of truth-telling. “I’m sorry…that I haven’t told you yet about this morning’s endeavor and what it yielded.”

  Polly said nothing behind him, but Austin could hear her bullshit detector going off. She accepted the glass tumbler containing two fingers of whiskey and perched herself atop the polished desk. It didn’t escape his notice that she was as far from the bed as possible. Very likely, Polly’s proximity to a bed would never be far from his consciousness.

  “Darren Burnbaum,” Austin started. “That’s the name of the man who found himself unconscious on the bathroom floor three nights ago.”

  “Found himself.” Polly took a swallow of whiskey and grimaced. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  “Honestly, taking a woman of your caliber to a diner was reason enough to shut his lights out, sweet. But I digress.” Austin undid the top two buttons of his shirt, only half aware of his actions until Polly’s gaze dipped to his exposed throat, those teeth-marked lips parting in awareness. Turn it off. Why couldn’t he just turn it off? He cleared his throat and made a silent vow to keep a safe distance from Polly until the whole picture was revealed. “Darren’s brother used to grift with the best of them, until he went straight. Now he’s working a six-figure job behind a desk downtown. Has a wife, kids, and a dog. The whole messy business.”

  “I never thought to look into siblings,” Polly said, her voice quiet. “You have something damning on the brother?”

  “Very good.” His right eye ticked. “Unfortunately, so does Reitman.”

  “I see.”

  The battle waging inside Polly was quite apparent to Austin. She hated the casual manner in which he spoke about ruining men, understandable considering what Reitman had done to her fathers. But the steady rise and fall of her chest, the constant rewetting of her lips, told Austin she had an appreciation for the game. Fuck, her legs looked extra spreadable in the sunlight. That same light would make her nipples shine like rubies if he sucked them. It would be so easy to distract them both with sex, postpone the inevitable just a little while longer.

  You owe her more than that. Deep breath.

  “What do you have on him?” Polly asked, dragging him back to the present.

  “You don’t want to know, sweet. You don’t need to.”

  Austin set down his already-empty glass, more than a little shaken by the protectiveness unfurling within him. There was more at stake here than ruining his chance at being with Polly again. He didn’t want her sullied by the knowledge of how his world worked. The things he’d done were vile. They had no goddamn business touching Polly or making a home inside her remarkable mind. But he’d come this far, and she wouldn’t let him skate if he backed off now.

  “Reitman used Darren’s brother’s connections to gain entry into the large-scale investment community,” he said. “And with the threat hanging over his head, the brother had no choice but to make introductions. It wasn’t long until Reitman found his mark.”

  Austin swallowed the cement coating his throat, felt the weight drop into his stomach. “His mark is Isobel Pierce, the woman Derek spoke about this morning in the meeting. Her last name is different from when I…knew her. It used to be Klausky, but she’s divorced now, you see.”

  Some of the color drained from Polly’s face, the transition made all the more drastic by the luminous sunlight. “You know her?”

  “I knew her.” Austin paced to the bed and dropped down onto the edge, running stiff fingers through his hair. “Polly, this is one fucked-up story. I’d rather you go on thinking I’m simply a cheat with an unforgivable ego. I’d rather you think of me that way than know for certain I’m a monster.”

  The silence that fell was ear piercing, but she ended it mercifully after a minute. “I don’t want to be like everyone else, looking at you and seeing whatever illusion you choose to project. Tell me.”

  Already knowing the outcome would be Polly walking out on him, Austin’s courage was pathetically low, but he held on to it with an iron grip. “I started off in Brighton, making suckers out of tourists with a basic shell game. That’s all it was ever supposed to be. Supplementing my allowance while alleviating the boredom that plagues most sixteen-year-olds.” He clasped his hands together between his knees. “A man approached me one afternoon and asked for a game. I don’t know what it was about him, but I refused to give him a go. He would have taken my winnings, I was sure of it.”

  Restless at the memory, wishing he could go back in time and warn his past self of what lay on the horizon, Austin stood and blew out a breath. “He convinced me to pack it in for the night and we talked. He showed me monte and some other easy moneymakers.” Finding the right words was hard, having never explained what drew him to the life. “Until then, every day was the same. Gray skies. School uniform. The same conversations each night at dinner. And then there was this person, telling me I could make it on my own. See everything. That I had the right disposition and aptitude to be a self-made man. A…con.”

  Austin watched as Polly replenished her drink, crossing to his
empty glass and filling it, too. As she closed the distance between them to hand him the whiskey, Austin’s blood turned heavy in his veins, pumping with scorching need. He took the drink in one hand, grabbing her wrist with the other. “You know I could stop talking right now and use my mouth for something far more interesting.” His thumb pressed down on her fluttering pulse, inhaling her lemonade scent like a junkie. “I know you wore that lace for me. Want to watch me use my teeth to get through it to what’s beneath? I’ll rip it off your pussy little by little until your sweetness is fair game for my tongue. All you have to do is take your skirt off, lie down, and call me your good boy.”

  She pitched to the side before righting herself and stepping back from him as if he’d already torn off the mask and revealed what lay beneath. Perhaps he had. Being censured for his past sins had never felt more vital than it did right now. Polly was the only one who could do that for him. Would she?

  “Just keep talking,” she breathed, taking her post once again on the other side of the room. “I’ll be the judge of what’s more interesting.”

  He raised an eyebrow, attempting to disguise his discomfort at having her so far away. Touching was his greatest ally, and she’d handily divested him of it. “If it pleases you.” He took a moment to memorize the blush that climbed her neck before continuing. “That man was my partner up until about four years ago. We didn’t always work the same mark. Sometimes months passed where he and I didn’t even see each other, going off on our own. But we called each other in when necessary. I—” Hell, if he’d only detailed the cons out loud years ago, maybe the way it made his soul flinch would’ve been enough warning to stop. “We were in São Paulo and my partner told me about an American woman on vacation. Rich, spoiled, spending money like water…newly married.”

  Austin winced on the inside when Polly drained her whiskey.

  “Her husband had gone back to the States for business and left her there for a month. She wasted no time telling me the marriage was rocky, the husband is a philanderer, which is what they all say as justification, before we—”