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  “You going to talk, or just stare at me?” Even his voice was pure, rough whisky.

  Isobel blinked a couple of times, trying to pull herself out of the daze he’d put her in. The cloak of danger hung heavily on him. He was a man who was used to being the strongest, meanest threat around. Isobel wasn’t sure if knowing that made her want to run from him or to him.

  She licked her very dry lips and forced out some words. “You’re Callum McKay.”

  She fought the urge to cringe. For an opening line, it wasn’t that impressive. But what else could she say? You’re the sexiest, most terrifying man I’ve ever met and I think I just ovulated from being in your presence. Oh, and by the way, there’s a dead man in my freezer.

  His eyes narrowed, drawing her attention to the harsh planes of his face. He’d been chiselled out of granite, and the sculptor had been too intimidated by the result to polish him. Callum was all rough edges and solid power. And he was waiting for her to say something else.

  “I’m Isobel Sinclair.”

  He frowned. “I know that. What I don’t know is what you want.”

  To be naked and at your mercy?

  Isobel smacked her palm over her mouth, before she realised she hadn’t said the words aloud. Her face began to burn, and she actually considered running from Callum and taking her chances with the police.

  She peeled her fingers from her mouth one at a time and tried to smile. She was pretty sure it only made her look more manic. Casual, she told herself, be casual. You can do this.

  “So, I hear you were in the army?”

  Oh, that was not the right thing to say. If Callum was scary before, he was downright terrifying now. Every muscle in his body turned to steel and his eyes became glacial.

  “Where did you hear that?”

  Isobel swallowed hard. “A-around.”

  “And what’s it to you?”

  Isobel took a step back and felt a bush poke into her rear. It hurt, but she didn’t step forward again. “J-just being friendly. Neighbourly. You’ve been here a few months and I-I thought I should welcome you…s-seeing as you’re here alone…and you…you know…don’t go out much.” Her face was burning up now, and with every tiny lie she told, her stutter got worse. In desperation, she reached for something to say that was truth. “I live along the bluff.” She pointed in the direction of her house. “On a clear day, I can see Ireland from my house.”

  Kill me now!

  Callum stared at her as though he was trying to figure out a puzzle. Isobel started to back up again before she remembered she was already in the bush. The silence became so heavy that it was hard to breathe.

  “Did you see any conflict?” she blurted. “In the army, I mean. Y-you must have seen some interesting things. I’ve a-always been really i-interested in guns and other a-army stuff. Tanks! T-tanks are especially c-cool. And big. Tanks are big. And don’t have any w-windows. I-I’ve always w-wondered how the s-soldier could see to drive…w-without windows…in a tank…with tank-sized g-guns. You must know a lot about g-guns. A-and tanks. A-and…” she cast around for anything at all she could remember about the army. Anything! “And c-camouflage…” Honestly, it took all her self-control not to groan loudly and run away as fast as her legs could carry her.

  Callum didn’t move, didn’t speak—he only watched her as she dug her hole deeper with every word.

  “I-I hear there are d-different types of camouflage f-for different environments.”

  He stared at her with that blank expression.

  Isobel swallowed hard. “I-I had a pink camouflage dress o-once.”

  Still blank.

  “Not m-much use for p-pink in the army, though…” She forced a laugh, and it morphed into something quite hysterical that she had to work hard to stop. “So.” She cleared her throat. “I thought, maybe, y-you’d like to c-come to my house and h-have tea and talk about army s-stuff.” She looked at him hopefully. Desperately.

  Callum’s chin jerked upwards as though she’d struck him. His cheeks coloured with what she knew was rage.

  “You’re one of those women, then,” he said. “The kind that thinks combat is sexy. Do you get hot hearing battle stories? Are you hoping I’ll show you my scars? You’re out of luck, lady. I don’t sleep with army groupies. You want to get off with a soldier, look elsewhere.”

  Isobel felt like she’d been slapped. “What? No!”

  Callum shook his head. “Clear out before I lose my temper.” He turned his back on her.

  Isobel rushed forward, but her top snagged in the bush, holding her back.

  “It’s not like that. That’s not why I’m here.”

  He strode into the house, ignoring her.

  Isobel panicked and did what she always did under pressure: she blurted the truth.

  “There’s a dead body in my freezer and I don’t know what to do with it!”

  CHAPTER 4

  CALLUM STOPPED DEAD IN HIS tracks and slowly turned to face Isobel. She was frozen in place, her cheeks a deep red and her green eyes so wide that they almost took over her face. She looked as though she’d been caught naked on stage, with the spotlight firmly on her. In three long strides, Callum was at her side. She tensed, ready to run. He reached out, wrapped his fingers around her wrist and held her in place. Firmly, but gently.

  “Explain.” He used the same tone he’d used when he’d been in charge of an SAS operation. It demanded nothing but compliance.

  “Um…” She blinked up at him, as the colour started to drain from her face.

  He could almost read her thoughts. They were scrolling over her incredibly expressive face. He watched intently as he saw regret—presumably at blurting out her secret—fear, probably over the worry that he would use it against her, and desperation—most likely to disappear and forget their encounter had ever happened. Well, it was too late for that. Isobel Sinclair was neck-deep in a situation that Callum couldn’t ignore. A situation she obviously wasn’t equipped to handle.

  “Talk, Isobel.”

  Her name was smooth on his tongue. It was almost as though he could taste her. He clenched his jaw and forced his thoughts from places they shouldn’t go—not with this woman. Isobel had the words permanent relationship written all over her. She wasn’t the kind of woman Callum could take to bed without repercussions. And standing close enough to breathe her in, Callum could admit that he very much wanted to take her to bed.

  “Why is there a body in your freezer? What happened to it?” His voice dropped an octave. “Did you kill him?”

  He didn’t believe for one second she was capable of killing a man, but possibilities were racing through his head. An accident? Self-defence? He studied her wide eyes and saw only panic. He knew he was looming over her, but there was nothing he could do about his size or his intense personality. She’d come to him with her crazy confession and she’d just have to deal with him.

  “Breathe,” he ordered. Her lips were beginning to turn blue, and she was shaking so hard her teeth were chattering. “You’re going to pass out if you don’t take in some air. You need to breathe. Damn it, woman, I’m not going to hurt you. I just want some information. Take a breath and talk. Do as I tell you!”

  She didn’t do as she was told.

  Callum tightened his hold on her wrist. “Breathe. Now.”

  Her eyes became wider and began to lose focus. She was going to faint. Callum felt a surge of panic at the thought. Give him a terrorist armed with a bomb over a fainting woman any day.

  “Snap out of it, woman, take a breath!” He felt her knees begin to crumple and quickly wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her upright. Her eyes held his. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish on dry land. But nothing happened. Callum cursed and did the only thing he could think of to shock her out of her panicked state without harming her.

  He kissed her.

  It was a mistake.

  As soon as Callum’s lips touched hers, he knew there was no going back. The only thing
that mattered was the desperate, overwhelming need for more.

  A gasp.

  A moan.

  Fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, demanding more. Her body undulated against him in time with her lips. She tasted of cinnamon and chocolate, and a desperation that inflamed his own. They burned together, each of them acting as fuel for the other’s flame.

  Tongues duelled. Lips caressed. Teeth nipped. He poured himself into her and she demanded even more. He stroked down her body, across her hips to her thighs, and lifted her. Automatically, her legs wrapped around his waist and they were face to face. The perfect height. They were mouth to mouth. Hard to soft.

  There was no rational thought. Only brutal, raw, desperate need. Isobel’s teeth nipped at Callum’s bottom lip, and the noise that escaped him was base. He was functioning on pure, unadulterated instinct. He needed this woman. He needed to be inside her. He needed it now.

  Callum broke the kiss, searching for a surface to press her against. He wanted to wedge her between the hard wall and his even harder body. He needed access for his hands, and teeth, and tongue. Isobel squirmed, and moaned her protest at losing his lips. Her head lowered and she sucked on his neck before biting hard enough to leave a mark. Callum tightened his hand in her hair, and strode through his already open door.

  He slammed her against the wall, letting his hips and the pressure of his body hold her in place. Hands went under shirts in a frantic exploration. Her nipples were hard against his palms, her teeth rough against his ear. There was panting. Loud. Desperate. Uncivilised.

  With a desperate rip, he tugged her shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor. Her bra was a wisp of lace that hid nothing. Perfect pink nipples made his mouth water, and with a growl, he lowered his head to capture one through the lace. He sucked it deep into his mouth.

  “Yes!” Isobel threw her head back and pressed her flesh into his eager mouth, her hands clasping at his head, tugging his hair to keep him in place.

  He licked and sucked and bit her ripe, hard nipple as he slid her skirt up to her waist. Satin-soft skin. Warm, wet heat.

  He had to get inside her.

  He had to.

  His body had broken out in a sweat with desperation to be inside this woman. With one hand helping to support her against the wall, Callum reached for the buttons on his jeans to free himself.

  His cock was desperately hard and ready for her. He pushed her underwear aside and caressed her slick, wet heat. Gasps filled his ears. The sound he made in reply was one he didn’t recognise. In that moment, he was more animal than man. All he could think about, all he could feel, was Isobel. Their chemistry was a fog around him, wiping out the rest of the world, blanketing his past and his worries and his fears.

  He positioned his aching shaft at her entrance and focused on her face. Her head was back against the wall, lips swollen and parted, eyes closed. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was wild. She was clinging to him, panting hard, just as lost and desperate as he was.

  “Isobel,” he barked. “Look at me.”

  Slowly, languorously, Isobel opened her beautiful blue eyes. She was dazed, her eyelids heavy with desire. He’d never seen a more sensual sight.

  “Say yes,” he demanded.

  She pressed her hips towards him, making the head of his cock rub against her sensitive flesh. She moaned and her eyes drifted closed. She was lost to sensation. Lost in him. The feeling of power her reaction caused made Callum heady. He had done this. Barely keeping hold of the tenuous awareness of reality that he’d managed to grasp, he needed her answer.

  “Isobel, say yes.” He flexed his hips and pressed against her.

  She undulated as she forced her eyes open. Her tongue swept across her lips as she stared into him. Not at him. Into him. She grasped the hair on either side of his head and yanked his face forward until there was nothing to see but the desperation in each other’s eyes.

  “Get. Inside. Me. Now!”

  He captured her mouth in a punishing kiss as he thrust his length inside her. Warm, grasping flesh enveloped him, and he swallowed her moans as he ground his hips against her. Nails raked his shoulder. Her thighs tightened on his hips.

  “Yes, yes, yes…” she chanted.

  Callum buried his face in the crook of her neck and licked at her skin. Cinnamon and fire. His addiction. Something deeply primitive within him reared its head. He clamped his mouth over the muscle where her shoulder met her throat. He sucked hard, wanting to mark her. Wanting to leave his brand on her porcelain skin. Wanting the world to know that she was his. There was no logic in his reasoning. No thought of the future or what his need meant. All that existed was instinct.

  “Come for me, Isobel,” he said against her ear.

  It was enough to send her over. With one desperate cry, she arched. Her skin flushed and her body shuddered. Callum felt her clench around him and his muscles locked in place. He rushed over with her, roaring his release. They were in the centre of a tornado, the world replaced by spiralling winds and the ferocious force of nature.

  Slowly.

  Gradually.

  The winds died and reality returned.

  He felt Isobel tense against him and knew that she too was coming back to the world. Callum’s sex-addled brain sputtered back to life and he silently cursed. He’d only meant to make her breathe. He didn’t know what had happened. Never had it been like that before. Never.

  It was a huge mistake.

  Isobel was a woman made for relationships. And Callum was damaged goods. Useless to everyone around him.

  “Oh no,” Isobel whispered, bringing him out of his own head. “I’ve done it again.” She shoved at his shoulders. “Put me down.”

  There was nothing else he could do but comply. With a wince, he slid from her body and then lowered her to the ground in front of him. He didn’t step back, but kept her between him and the wall. Her top was gone, ripped and tossed to the floor. Apart from that, she was still wearing everything she’d arrived in.

  Everything she’d worn to his house to ask him for help.

  “Fuck,” he muttered.

  “Aye.” Isobel looked at him with a mixture of horror and flushed satiation. “I don’t suppose you’ve had a vasectomy?”

  As her words registered, it was Callum’s turn to feel faint.

  CHAPTER 5

  “We probably shouldn’t have watched that,” Elle Roberts said as she shut her laptop.

  As tech expert for Benson Security, she’d been the one to install the cameras in Callum’s house. She was also the one who’d written the program that would make alarms go off in both Benson Security offices if Callum mentioned any key words or phrases—like “kill myself”, “end it all”, “dead”, and “I need my gun”. To say they were worried about his state of mind was putting it mildly.

  “I think this is a sign he’s getting over his depression,” Megan Raast said as she fanned her burning face. Her smile was supermodel wide. “Who knew Callum was that hot?”

  “You won’t be thinking that when he kills you after he finds out we watched him having sex.”

  “Baby? You watching porn again?” Dimitri, Megan’s husband and fellow security specialist, sauntered into the computer room. “We talked about that. No watching porn without me.”

  Megan launched herself into Dimitri’s arms. “I don’t watch porn. Trust me, women don’t find porn sexy. It’s an objectification of their bodies and it’s really icky. But I have watched erotic female cinema.”

  “Lady porn,” Dimitri scoffed, but it was ruined by the smile that lit up his eyes. The one that said his wife could do no wrong.

  “I can live with it being called that.” Megan pulled him in for a kiss. One that lasted until they were both panting.

  “I’m sitting right here,” Elle snapped at them. “I just watched one colleague have sex. I don’t need a repeat right in front of my face.”

  Dimitri tore his mouth from his wife, and his eyebrows shot up his fo
rehead. “Callum had sex? Who with? Did you record it?” He looked behind him at the open door and shouted, “Joe, Ryan, Callum had sex.”

  Elle groaned and smacked her palm to her forehead. “We were trying to be discreet, for Callum’s sake.”

  “No we weren’t,” the blonde traitor, who was wrapped around Dimitri like a clip-on monkey, said. “If we’d been thinking of Callum’s privacy, we wouldn’t have watched in the first place. Mainly, we were thinking that it’s hot the way he goes all caveman when he does it.”

  Elle scowled at Megan, but as usual, she shrugged it off.

  “Callum had sex?” Ryan, the most laid-back member of their team, strode into the room. “Who with? Where? What position? Did you tape it?”

  “You lot are sick.” Elle was aware she should be wearing a T-shirt with the word Hypocrite emblazoned across it instead of one that said I Own a Deathstar.

  “He had sex with the woman who delivers his shopping,” Megan said, still clinging to Dimitri. “He threw her up against the hall wall. They didn’t even get as far as taking off their clothes. It was hot.” She leaned in and whispered something in her husband’s ear that made his eyes turn dark and his cheeks flush.

  Elle pointed at them. “Whatever you’re planning, keep it out of the office. We don’t want to be your audience.”

  Megan pouted, but there was pure mischief in her eyes. “I can’t help that I have an exhibitionist streak. It’s genetic.”

  Dimitri looked towards heaven and clamped a hand over Megan’s mouth. “Pretend you didn’t hear that.”

  Ryan snorted. “Like we didn’t already know.”

  “What’s this about Callum and a woman?” Joe Barone, ex-US marine and team trainer, frowned as he came up beside Elle. “He didn’t hurt her, did he?” he asked her quietly.

  Elle gasped. “He wouldn’t do that. You know he wouldn’t.”

  “He hasn’t been himself for months. I’m worried about him.”

  “We all are. But he’d never hurt a woman. You know that, Joe.” Elle glared at him. “That was out of order.”