Chapter 40

Dana liked England, but not this particular Englishman. He seemed to have as many hands as a centipede did feet.
"Thanks for walking me up, John but I really need to get my beauty sleep tonight. There's that auction first thing in the morning, remember." Dana shrugged the man's clammy hand off her shoulder, trying not to shudder. She scratched at the tiny scar she'd had since February, which was mostly hidden by the strap of her black slip dress. "Thanks for dinner, though and the tour of the warehouse was fantastic." It was also educational. She'd spotted at least half a dozen stolen antiques, including a couple from the auction house she consulted for in New York. Exactly what she'd been hoping to find and Romeo here had led her straight to them.
"I was hoping to come in for a bit." John Saville leaned against the door of her temporary apartment, blocking her way and tugged her close with a hand on her hip. His dark blond hair was perfectly coiffed and his pale blue eyes smiled out at her from a smoothly handsome face. So why did he leave her utterly cold? Even his proper British accent didn't do a thing for her. "Maybe have a drink, relax for a little while..."
His breath smelled of garlic and mussels from their Italian dinner and it was all she could do not to gag. Instead, she forced herself to smile down at him - in her heels, she was taller by a couple of inches - and shake her head with feigned reluctance. "Maybe next time. I really need to get some sleep."
Now she had to let him kiss her. It was part of the deal, she told herself. While she was just about ready to turn her information over to the authorities, there were still a few things she needed to find out. John had made some vague references to "occult" items during tonight's tour but he hadn't shown her anything that seemed magical in origin. Before she let the cops tear the place apart, she wanted to do the best she could to find out if either of her friends' missing mystical artifacts were being stolen and fenced by this same outfit.
Just as she leaned in to accept his kiss, revolting though it would be, the door behind John burst open. John fell back almost into the apartment, blocked only by the hulking and angry, form of Baudoin Dumont.
"Beau!" Dana stumbled but caught herself with a hand on the doorframe. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"We can discuss that, cherie, after I have taken out the garbage." He lifted Saville by the collar of his pin-striped suit coat and tossed him out into the landing with one hand while he pulled Dana in through the doorway with the other. When Beau moved to follow the man out, Dana tugged on his arms.
"Let him go." She motioned at John to scram and he took the hint, dashing off down the stairs. With obvious reluctance, Beau allowed her to pull him inside the apartment and close the door behind them while Saville made his escape.
"He was trying to force himself on you," Beau growled as soon as he locked the door. "And I was not supposed to hurt him?"
"He's human, you big ape." The walls here were thin, so she kept her voice down to an angry whisper. "And kind of a puny one at that. If he'd tried anything I didn't want, I could have taken him apart myself, even without shifting to my dragon form and scaring the neighbors. I've spent the last two months trying to win his confidence. Now you've blown it all to hell." She tossed her gold leather evening bag onto the hall table and pushed past him, heading toward the tiny kitchenette that was really just a corner of her sitting room, outlined by a breakfast bar.
She didn't make it. As soon as she tried to move past Beau, he grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her to face him, glowering down at her fiercely. "I know you could have defended yourself. I am angry because you put yourself in the position of having to." Then his mouth crushed down on hers.
Dana whimpered and wrapped her arms around his neck, her whole body instantly jumping to full arousal. Her lips opened, welcoming the possessive thrust of his tongue and moisture soaked her thin silk panties. She hadn't been with anyone except her vibrator since that night with Beau five months earlier and her body remembered all too well how magnificent it had been.
Her dress was a short column of black linen, ending mid-thigh. Beau's hands were already up under it, kneading her backside and she briefly considered letting him take her against the wall again, as he had that first time in Philadelphia. But the walls here were thin and her neighbors nosy. When Beau lifted her in his arms, she instinctively wrapped both legs around his waist. No other lover had ever been able to lift her, at least so easily, and she reveled in feeling dainty and feminine beside his bulk.
"Now." Beau groaned and sank to his knees on the carpet.
"Yes." She let him lower her back to the rug, her knees bent on either side of him while he shoved her dress up to her hips and tugged off her thong, leaving her thigh-high stockings and low-heeled pumps in place.
His eyes still on her exposed pussy, he fumbled with his belt and the fly of his slacks. She could smell her own arousal along with his and she watched as he freed that long, dark erection she remembered so well. Then he slid both hands under her ass and lifted her to meet his thrust, impaling her slowly and deeply, until he was seated to the root and nudging her womb.
She locked her ankles behind his waist, using her leg muscles to meet his slow, deliberate thrusts. His hands freed from supporting her, he reached up to push the straps of her dress down to her elbows, baring her strapless lace bra to his gaze.
"Too long," he murmured. He slid his hands under the cups of the bra to lift her breasts out. His breath puffed gently against one of the sensitized tips before he engulfed it in the damp heat of his mouth.