The words stalled in her throat as his hand cupped her jaw and his thumb moved to the outer edge of her lip. The unbelievable sensuality of it sent her stomach into a loop-the-loop.

“Tell me.”

“Why do you care?” The words felt like shards in her throat.

He paused, still holding, still staring into her eyes with that icy gaze. “About what?”

“Martinez.” Me. Because with every new, bruising clash, something changed between them. Or maybe it was just her. Something built inside her that grew stronger in its urge to find him.

A sardonic smile lifted his mouth. “I might not be good enough for you, which crushes me. Truly, it does. But believe me when I say that Detective Martinez is not worth your time.”

“Only I say who’s worth my time.”

He shook his head, a glitter of condescension in his eyes.

“You really disapprove of me, don’t you?”

His answer was to move disapprovingly closer. Close enough to sin, as the nuns at St. Jude’s used to say, and oh, she wanted to sin with this man.

His mouth hovered so near she could smell the soap on his skin, the sweetness of his breath. The danger all around. A man as powerful, as controlling as Eli Cooper would know exactly what a woman needed. Would he demand total submission between the sheets? Would he make her call him “Mr. Mayor”? Would he trust a sassy firebrand like her with his cock in her mouth?

He shouldn’t.

But she’d relish watching that flicker of uncertainty in his eyes while she unzipped him and unpacked his length. She bet he was as big as his ego. She bet he would fill every soaking part of her perfectly.

“You need to be taken in hand,” he rasped, every word a provocative puff of air against her lips. “You are wayward and out of control and a danger to yourself, and if I wasn’t your boss, if I wasn’t worried about all the lines I’ve no doubt crossed every additional second I spend with you, I would be the one to tame you.”

Do it, her lust-scrambled brain urged. Take me in hand. Use those big, forceful hands to take me and tame me.

“I’m not some animal to be domesticated, Eli,” she goaded, knowing he would enjoy her spirit.

But not enough, apparently. Some inner battle raged on his face, and the winner, unfortunately, was common sense. The hand that would not tame her fell away. The body that would have no part in her domestication inched back, its masculine heat replaced by the cool chill of regret.

Sagging in her own skin, she tried to push her shoulders higher to mask her disappointment. Which is when he stepped into what little personal space she had and lowered his lips to hers.

She should pull away, even though she had begged for it with her smart mouth. She should punish him for every crime he’d perpetrated. For being too good-looking, too sexy, too everything. But the kiss was like him—just too damn good. Warm and brutal, providing answers to questions she never knew she had. He teased with his tongue along the seam of her mouth, seeking that last nudge of acceptance as if it was his God-given right.

She parted her lips, and like a predator hinged on her threshold, he took.

The kiss turned wet and deep, velvety luxurious in its sweep across her mouth, its obliteration of her senses. He curled his hand around her neck and anchored it at her nape, as though he needed that to hold on. That strange notion thrilled her. He was taming her, but also fanning the flames of revolution. He was dominating her, but exhorting her to meet him beat for booming beat. She had never felt more . . . equal to another man.

She drew back, breathless. Changed.

“You make me so mad,” he whispered, his voice incredibly raw, like a manifestation of the aching need thrumming between them..

She felt how mad he was against the fork of her thighs. The slippery warmth in her panties was testament to how mad she was at him.

“Then punish me, Eli.” Who was this husky-voiced temptress?

One who was getting it done, because suddenly, his mouth was on hers again, that wickedly talented mouth that he really should never, ever use for speech. Just pleasure. That’s all that stupid, annoying, sexy mouth was good for.

She wanted to bite and suck and rub against him. Against all that man. Her body was not her own. It was this wanton thing, grinding against his flagrant erection. Somehow, he had pushed her against the back wall, wedging her in with paper towels and metal shelving and him. One hand tangled in her hair—she had no idea where her cap had gone—while the other cupped her generous ass and molded her flush to his cock. They were as close as two people could get with clothes on, like bold explorers, their bodies forbidden country.

One of her hands raked through his thick hair, the other traveled from his shoulder to his chest, needing to feel that steel under silk. Needing to rip his tie off, tear his tailored shirt open, expose his hot skin to her hotter tongue.

Expose herself.

She moaned, her desperation for more, for the pleasure she feared only he could give, echoing in the tiny space. But it broke the spell. Abruptly, he withdrew, the action sucking the air right out of her lungs.

He stared for painfully long seconds, looking marvelously disheveled. She had done that to him, mussed up his world for a few precious moments. Strong, rough fingers rubbed the skin at her nape, and she suppressed another moan.

“This thing between us, Alexandra . . . this thing,” he grated, his voice so graveled it coated every nerve ending with his masculine essence. “It will pass.”

Panic knifed through her, mixed with confusion at her body’s overreaction to his bald statement. “It—it will?”

“God, I hope so, don’t you?”

Before she could respond, the door was thrown open and he was gone.

 CHAPTER SIX

On the fifth floor of city hall, Eli stared at the snow falling sideways outside the window of the mayor’s office, feeling not quite so much the lord of all he surveyed as a bit of a heel. Another glance at the iPad on the desk had him flexing his hand in readiness. He was known around city hall for flinging whatever slabs of tech displeased him against the closest wall, and he’d hate to ruin his hard-won rep.

“I told you we’d get good mileage out of this,” Madison said from her perch on the edge of his antique mahogany desk.

“Exactly how is this good mileage?” He stared at the provocative headline again on the home page of the Windy City Dispatch:

Sexy Lexi for Mayor!

Yet again, America’s Favorite Firefighter was the toast of the town. The reporters loved her dry humor, her fresh take on politics, and her cavalier allusions to leaving the mayor to die in a smoke-filled corridor.

Madison was in full battle mode. “What we need now are a few public appearances to keep the good times rolling for the next month. A visit to Engine 6. Maybe a Bulls game with you and Dempsey sharing a hot dog—”

“How about a string of spaghetti while we gaze longingly into each other’s eyes?”

She looked affectionately bored. “Eli, Alex Dempsey understands the game. She works for the city. She works for you. And even though you refused to play the angle like I advised, you did save her life.”

“Hardly. I dragged her twenty feet down one flight of stairs. She’s a loose cannon, Mads. She’s not to be trusted.”

And he couldn’t trust himself around her. That whatever-the-hell-it-was in that supply closet just went to prove it. Kissing her was like falling into madness.

“Eli, I think you’re underestimating the power of what happened yesterday.”