Boiling Point (Crossing the Line #3) Read online

  Her unfinished sentence hanging in the air, the Russian walked her backward, farther into the darkness, his jaw alongside her temple. He murmured something in his language, and even though she didn’t know what his words meant, they went straight to her belly, settling and growing heavy. Concentrate. She needed to concentrate. But it was growing increasingly difficult to focus. She’d only drunk three martinis, and they’d been poured with a conservative hand—she shouldn’t feel her inhibitions loosening with every step.

  But…they were. And when the Russian’s fingers slid just inside the top of her skirt to graze her thong, a pounding started in her chest. Yes.

  There was no more denying that this mysterious man made her think of Austin. Same height, same masculinity, same sexual prowess. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend it was the con. She could dull the sharpest corners of the inescapable lust.

  No one would ever know.

  …

  Blimey. Why hadn’t she passed out yet?

  Polly had to be made of steel on the inside as well as out. The sedative he’d dropped into her drink was mild, but it damn well should have required him to carry her out the back door by now. He hadn’t planned on it—nor did he like going to such extremes—but he’d had no choice. Not when he’d seen the man at the bar.

  His ex-partner Charles.

  He should have known. Should have trusted the gut feeling he’d been encountering from day one when he started following Polly that something fucked up was ’round the bend. It had been too coincidental, seeing Charles in Chicago the night after Polly’s thwarted date with the chap he’d left on the diner’s bathroom floor. He hadn’t wasted time wondering if Charles was Polly’s reason for coming to Tossed dressed like a gorgeous, half-naked club kid, so he’d acted preemptively by doctoring her drink. Polly had no idea what she was up against with Charles, and she wouldn’t be finding out, if he had to send Charles out of Chicago himself.

  As soon as the sedative took effect, he would take her home, leave her safely on the couch, and spend the night planning. And wondering just what the hell Polly was about, stalking a murderous con on her night off.

  If he didn’t think she’d go nuclear, he would take off the damned prosthetic nose and drop the accent, so he could shake some sense into her as Austin. Right. He was angry with her. Not turned on. Even though the curve of her arse begged his hand to descend, to grab the flesh that mesmerized him on a daily basis. Push those parted lips wide and appease his monumental curiosity over how she would taste. Maybe slide his tongue down to her cleavage, dipping into her bra to swipe at her always-perked-up nipples.

  Down, boy. Taking advantage of a pliant, starry-eyed Polly was beneath him—them—and doing so would make him a right bastard. Just a dance. He would enjoy the single dance they might ever share and try to pretend she wasn’t seconds from going lights-out. Or better yet, pretending she hadn’t been seconds from engaging somehow with his ex-partner, a fact that unsettled him greatly.

  Polly wound her arms around his neck. “What did you call me earlier? In Russian.” Austin almost cursed out loud when her curves shifted over his lap, his stomach. Come on, babe. Go to sleep and stop looking at my mouth. “I liked the way it sounded.”

  Austin breathed deeply through his nose. “This word I said…it means my gold.”

  “Hmm. Awfully personal, isn’t it?” The pace of the music picked up, bass thumping in the air. Polly’s eyes slid closed, and relief—and yeah, some inexcusable disappointment—spiraled through Austin…until those eyes blinked back open and her body started to move. And sweet fuck, did she move. Her body churned against his in a slow roll, accompanied by a flash of her eyes. Drowsy excitement. The way a woman might look the morning after several rounds of sex, but wanting to go one more time before breakfast. Only this wasn’t just a woman, it was Polly, a woman who until now had only been unintentionally sexy. He hadn’t come prepared to withstand her at full measure, her feminine wiles in effect and focused on him.

  No, not him. Some strange Russian man lacking in boundaries. Austin gave himself a mental shake, trying to rid himself of the rampant jealousy that thought set loose. Pull back. He needed to stop absorbing the mind-melting sensation of Polly’s body undulating against his and use the opportunity to find out something about her connection to Charles. If he didn’t, he would regret it tomorrow, and Polly would be in further danger. “Who is that man to you, zolotse?”

  Her fingers played with the hair at the back of his neck. “You’re awfully concerned about my business for someone who just met me.”

  “Perhaps you inspire concern.”

  Another unhurried grind of her hips against his, one that made Austin’s eyes slide closed. “If you knew me, you’d know I’d take that as an insult,” she breathed.

  Good God. Men weren’t built to be tortured like this. Or they were, rather. His cock had wasted no time growing long and stiff, giving Polly a place to rub, rub, rub with each sensual movement of her hips. His conscience was being swallowed up by the surrounding darkness, the couples around him moving in a similar fashion. A way he and Polly should not be moving, but he was having a difficult time getting his body to listen. He’d been dreaming of fucking her for six goddamn months, had watched her ass twitch past, heard that little breathy inhale after she sipped her tea. Witnessed the brilliance of her mind and ached to go head-to-head with her, knowing it would end with them both coming.

  You might be a cheat, but you’re better than this. Austin’s teeth sank into his upper lip until he felt pain, but it did nothing to distract from the feel of Polly. Her tits were a revelation, swelling above the leather of her top, begging for his palms, his lips. He knew how to suction his mouth and work his tongue at the same time, knew it would dampen her panties. Christ. He really shouldn’t have thought about what she was wearing beneath her skirt. White silk. He wanted her in white silk…with a string of pearls decorating the center of her backside.

  Enough.

  Garnering his will, Austin moved to separate their bodies, but Polly chose that moment to slip her hand up the inside of his T-shirt, her nails scoring his abdomen, his pecs. “I shouldn’t be dancing with you. I’m supposed to be…” Her head turned toward the bar. “I have to go.”

  Austin swallowed a groan, grateful for the flare of panic that interrupted the surge of blistering heat. God, he wanted those nails on his shoulders leaving blood in their wake, but that arousing imagery was interrupted by her desire to flee. Go after Charles—something he couldn’t allow. Tangling with Charles in her state was unwise in every way imaginable. And he couldn’t get that close to his ex-partner or he risked being recognized, disguise or no disguise. The guy was a master, and they’d spent too much time in each other’s company.

  Focus, you plank.

  “You would take yourself away from me so soon?” He eased Polly’s hands from beneath his shirt and stepped back, gritting his teeth at the loss. “Stay with me, zolotse. We can just talk.”

  “I…” She shook her head, as if trying to clear it, but couldn’t. “I should go, but…”

  He hated himself just then. Would hate anyone who stifled her impressive mind for a single second. The fact that it was he who had done it was insufferable. No choice. You had no choice. When her gaze strayed to the bar again, her attention beginning to pull away, denial gripped Austin. He needed to keep her occupied until the sedative kicked in and he could remove her from the situation.

  Against his better judgment, Austin brought his mouth within an inch of Polly’s and backed her off the dance floor, placing them in an even darker corner. There was no denying the satisfaction that surged when her lips parted and he felt her quick little puffs of breath against his mouth. Their bodies were plastered so closely together, he swore he could feel her heart pounding double time. Or maybe it was his. He couldn’t tell, nor did he have the wherewithal to guess, because he and Polly were alone for all intents and purposes. Alone and pressed together, chest to knee, mou
ths poised in that moment just before a kiss. That taut section below her belly button started to writhe with the music again, shifting his cock right to left, right to left. And fuck, Austin had never come close to sainthood, but the fact that he hadn’t nailed her to the wall already had to qualify him.

  “Why aren’t you dancing?” she breathed into his mouth.

  “I can’t—” Accent. Accent. “You make concentration difficult.”

  Polly studied him from beneath her eyelashes. “Funny. I was going to say the same thing about you.” She dipped down and dragged their hips together with a sweet, feminine moan. “It’s probably because I haven’t been with anyone in so long.”

  Fucking hell. This was it. This was where he died. “Is that so?”

  “I don’t know why I told you that. I’m not thinking straight.”

  Shame harpooned him, enough that he pulled his mouth away from the perfection of her. Over the years, he’d become quite adept at numbing the feeling of shame, but he couldn’t seem to accomplish it around Polly. Austin swallowed heavily and let out a rush of unrehearsed words beside her ear. “Let me think for both of us.”

  After a moment wherein he held his breath, she nodded, and the foreign good intentions she’d inspired in him solidified. He’d come here to save her from herself, and now he’d have to pull double duty. Keep her safe and resist her body when she wasn’t in full possession of her faculties. Just a little longer. Just until you can get her out of here.

  Austin braced both hands on the wall above her head. “You touch. I won’t touch back. Even if it’s all I’m thinking about.”

  She appeared to absorb their position for a second, those luscious tits lifting and falling between them, driving him fucking mad. Then she took him off guard by wrapping a leg around his waist. Thank God the loud music disguised his vile curse, because it wasn’t in character. It was all Austin now, discerning the shape of her pussy through his jeans. Sweating under his shirt with the effort of staying still when his neglected sex drive shouted fuck her.

  “You remind me of someone I’m not supposed to want.”

  The rushing of testosterone inside him whipped faster until it moved in a frenzy. She means me. No. No way he could beat this. “Don’t. Don’t tell me his name.”

  A line formed between her brows at his odd command. “Austin,” she whimpered. “Touch me, Aus—”

  He broke, lunging forward until their lips were interlocked. “You need to be touched by Austin?”

  Her whispered reply might as well have been a shout. “Yes.”

  Austin savored the single damning word before bringing their mouths together in an imitation of fucking, more impassioned than anything he’d ever been a part of in his life. Without pretending. Without games. For the first time in his life, someone had wanted him instead of the mask he wore, and that revelation pounded in his temples. The leg around his waist tightened and he growled into her mouth, shoving her roughly up against the wall, thrusting his hips up into the cradle of her thighs. They both broke away from the kiss on a groan that melded together, taking the place of the club’s music and ingraining itself in his brain forever. The sound was desperation and pleasure…and relief. For a fleeting moment, he thought he might have the strength to pull away and do the right thing, but every thought fled when Polly went up on her toes and bore down on his cock with a swivel of her hips.

  “Fuck.” His accent broke again. Maintain. Have to maintain. “Give me permission to lift your skirt in back. You will feel my hands and you will love, P—” He cut himself off before uttering her name. “So beautiful. I must touch you. Please, you’ve made me so hard, zolotse. It’s only fair that you feel it.”

  “You don’t seem the type to ask for permission,” she said, her thoughtful tone demanding his attention, almost as handily as the way she circled on him like a lap dancer. “D-do you like women who tell you what to do?”

  A pulse point he hadn’t been aware of flared to life deep in his stomach, his knees dipping under the onslaught of anticipation. Sex for him had been a means to an end for so long, he’d built a dam. That had to be why he felt something give way and break at the idea of being told what to do. By Polly. His blood raced at the idea of it. Austin didn’t have time to answer—what in bloody hell would he say?—before she curled her fingers in the hem of his T-shirt and tugged the material up his chest.

  “I want to see you.”

  The look on her face intoxicated him. He worked hard to keep himself in peak physical condition—a con’s appearance was his greatest asset—but seeing arousal color her cheeks almost sank him to the ground. The higher she lifted the shirt, the harder she breathed until his own breath raced past hers, wheezing from his lungs. When the material was lifted all the way to his neck, she blinked up at him, as if unsure. “Anything. Do it all,” Austin said, without thinking.

  She stuffed the T-shirt’s hem into his mouth. Her eyes widened, as if surprised by her own actions, which turned him on even more, if such a thing were possible. It gave him the odd intuition that they were making the same discovery. With his chest completely bare, his cock pressing against the fly of his jeans for her inspection, he replaced his hands on the wall above her head, stayed still, and let her look.

  This. She needs control.

  Polly reached for his pecs with a featherlight touch, tracing them down to his navel with such sensual intention, he moaned around the T-shirt.

  “Press yourself against me like this. Your skin…”

  Austin dipped and fused their bodies together. The leather of her top felt incredible against his chest, her skirt brushing his belly. More. Need more. He needed them naked from the waist down, barriers of clothing torn away. With Polly wedged between him and the wall so tightly, the ownership he felt multiplied. Or maybe she owned him. Both possibilities were blinding in their perfection. He grasped the knee of her leg still wrapped around his waist, letting his fingers slide down to her hip where they could twist in her thong. She liked that…her breath shuddering out, body writhing. Giving her any form of pleasure made him feel exultant, so he twisted the lace again.

  Her response was to rip the T-shirt from his mouth and demand a kiss with her eyes. Her undulating body. Austin was frantic to oblige her, stamping his lips down onto hers with a growl that only intensified when she moved her pussy in a whip-tight circle, rocking his world on its axis. The thong ripped in his hand, but he barely noticed because Polly’s hands slid into the back of his jeans, tugging him closer into the endless temptation of her body. Christ. Jesus Christ.

  “You going to spread your thighs for me against the wall, babe?” His tongue swept into her mouth, tasting, consuming. He breathed for the both of them, refusing to stop the kiss. Lost to it. Starbursts blinked behind his eyes, warning him he needed oxygen or he might have gone on devouring her, fucking her through the rough denim of his jeans forever. “Haven’t been with anyone in a while. Is that right? Neither have I, because I’ve been waiting for this.” His hand found her backside and kneaded the smooth flesh, lifting her off the floor and onto his cock, making them both moan. “You want to order me around? Tell me what to do with my cock, where to put it, how fast to pump it? God, babe, don’t make me wait any longer.”

  When her body stilled, horror dawned. Sod it. He’d completely dropped character. Totally cracked. Impossible. Only it wasn’t impossible, because Polly had filled his head, refusing to allow anything else in, including his goddamn conscience. Even now, he was praying she would be as taken by need as him and keep going. Let him give her pleasure. God, he was an inexcusable bastard. Her eyes were half mast as she looked up at him, mouth still red from his kiss. Seconds from losing consciousness. No. He’d never justified his actions to anyone, but it was imperative at that moment. Unfortunately, she moved before he figured out what the hell to say.

  Keeping her attention locked on him, she reached into his right pocket and pulled out the tea bag he’d placed there. “Motherfucker.”


  Austin caught her just before she could hit the floor. With her final expression of betrayal imprinting itself on his memory to haunt him for life, Austin tucked Polly gently into his side, bringing her feet off the ground as he slid through the emergency exit, lifting her into his arms with ease when they landed in the alley.

  “I’m so sorry, sweet.”

  Chapter Four

  Polly sat at her usual Denny’s booth, palms flat on the table, staring down at the tea bag in front of her. The waitress had brought her a cup of hot water and left, but that had been half an hour ago, so steam no longer rose from the mug. She didn’t remember her three-block walk to the diner, nothing really beyond waking up sprawled on her couch with the tea bag still clutched in her fist.

  This. This was what stark humiliation felt like. After what she’d seen her fathers go through at the hands of Charles Reitman, she’d sworn never to be had. Never to be conned or have her decisions dictated by another person. Having that person be Austin Shaw was the stuff of nightmares. Worse…she really hadn’t thought he’d had it in him. Sure, they bantered back and forth. Sure, there was no love lost between them. But underneath the layers of contempt, a modicum of respect must have been reserved with his name on it, because she still couldn’t believe he’d drugged her.

  She hated that it hurt. He’d divested her of the ability to function physically or mentally, and a smart man like him knew what a hard pill that would be for her to swallow. Said pill was currently stuck in her throat like a prickly pinecone. Because as pissed as she was at Austin, she was angrier with herself for letting her guard down, two consecutive nights.