his glare up to her face. Whoever Fred was, whatever Fred was, she looked like sexual sin.
And as a result, everything male about him ignited.
He stared at her, stared into eyes the color of blue ice. Without the concealing sunglasses, her eyes were almost hypnotic, framed by thick black lashes and a face almost impishly beautiful. She was undeniably, incredibly sensual in a mysterious, exotic way.
A soft moan slipped from between her lips and she licked them, flicking the tip of her tongue over the soft, full swell of her bottom one before catching it with white, even teeth.
A surge of heat flooded through his body at the simple seductive action and he ground his teeth.
Jesus, what’s wrong with you? Getting horny now?
“Stop that,” he snarled. To her? Or himself?
The woman’s eyelids fluttered closed for a second, and she shook her head. “This is insane,” she muttered, a second before clothes covered her naked body again.
“Thank fuck for that,” he burst out on a ragged breath.
She lifted her chin a little, almost daring him to…what? “Are you a prude?”
An insane urge to crush her mouth with his, to prove how far from a prude he was, surged through him. “I’m standing here naked in front of you, aren’t I?”
Her lips twisted, devilish mirth glinting in her eyes. “Ah, so you hadn’t forgotten?”
“Who are you?” he growled, snatching up his boxer shorts and yanking them on.
“I told you.” Her eyes challenged him from behind a few tousled strands of her hair as she stepped closer to him. No, not stepped; prowled. So close to him he could feel her body’s heat kissing his bare skin. “Call me Fred.”
His cock, the most honest and truthful organ of a man’s body, jerked with interest and he balled his fists. No, he would not be turned on right now. Damn it, he wouldn’t.
And yet, something deep and long repressed ignited within his core, something hungry and powerful.
Her pupils dilated. Her lips parted. “Who are you, Patrick Watkins?” she whispered, a heartbeat before she destroyed the tiny space between them. “And why do I want to do this to you so much?”
He frowned. “Do—”
She captured his lips with hers.
Instant lust and desire poured through him. She tasted of secret spices and cool allure. He should be pushing her away. He should be calling the cops or the men in white jackets, but there wasn’t a force strong enough in the world capable of tearing his lips from hers at that very moment in time.
Was he insane? Still dreaming?
If his mind really was unhinged, he was more than happy to go along for the ride. As long as this woman—Fred—was in the passenger’s seat, his to hold and kiss, he’d spend the rest of eternity in a padded—
He yanked himself away from her, staring hard into her pale blue eyes as he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. “Holy fuck.”
The low, raw growl in the back of her throat sent a fresh surge of tormented lust straight through him. None of this was making sense, none of it. But every fiber in his body ached for her. He had to be losing his mind. There was no other explanation. She couldn’t be real. It wasn’t possible. Maybe he’d somehow fucked up during Peabody’s rescue today and he was currently in a coma?
But how do you know Peabody’s name then? How do you—
“Patrick,” Fred murmured his name, and he sucked in a choppy breath.
Jesus, she is gorgeous.
The surreal thought whipped through his head…a split second before her lips curled into a slow, sensual smile. “Thank you.”
“For what?” he croaked.
“The compliment,” she answered, taking a steady step toward him.
He didn’t move.
He should. He should stop her.
But is she really here?
“Of course I’m really here,” she whispered, holding his stare. “Right now, I don’t want to be anywhere else.”
In a blur, she moved, and before he could react, he was flat on his back on his bed, Fred straddling his hips. “I really want you to fuck me,” she stated, lowering her body closer to his as she threaded her fingers through his and held his hands locked beside his head. “Right now.”
He stared up at her. “Is this…is this real?”
For a moment, a split second in time, uncertainty flickered in her eyes. “Honestly, I don’t care if it isn’t. If feels too—”
The door flung open, the sudden crack of wood splintering against drywall like an explosive shot, and Ven crossed the threshold. “What the