All thoughts about the inadequacy of his actions flew from her mind. Her bottom and swollen sex caught fire. She faced forward again, leaned down to press her chest against the bed, and gripped the covers to hold herself still for whatever he wanted. He’d swatted her in play before, but never as a punishment. She wondered how far he’d go to make his point. Thought maybe she’d enjoy it.

His fingers slid free. A wet clap landed on the other side of her bottom. The next swat caught her directly between the legs.

She groaned, dropping her forehead to rest on the covers, surrendering, because her sex swelled, enlivened by his sweet abuse.

When her bottom and her pussy burned, his hands gripped her buttocks hard, fingers digging into hot lovestung flesh. His cock butted against her sex and then drove inside.

Cait moaned, a sound that stretched and gusted with his powerful thrusts. The thickness cramming so fast and hard inside stretched her inner walls. His heavy balls smacked against her engorged clit, giving her exactly what she needed to begin her ascent. She inched apart her knees to let him stroke deeper, to allow his groin to spank against her intimate flesh. Friction and his sexy pounding lifted her higher.

But he pulled free—so abruptly, she cried out. He turned her, dragging her body beneath his, and entered her again. His hands slipped under her, cradled her butt, and then he was stroking again, his chest against hers, his sturdy frame rocking hard and unrelenting against hers.

Cait cupped his face and lifted her head, branding his mouth with a hot kiss, which he returned with feral satisfaction, rubbing his mouth hard against hers, driving his tongue inside to duel and subjugate her own.

Her hands slid around his neck. She drew up her knees and curled her hips. Each thrust pushed the air from her lungs until she grew dizzy, her sounds more desperate.

She splintered apart, a jagged flash exploding from her core to tremble through her body.

Sam growled, gripped her ass harder, and powered into her, setting her sailing over the peak and into a pitch-black darkness.

When his movements ebbed, she rubbed her face against his, kissed his hard jaw, his throat, catching a trickle of sweat with the curl of her tongue. He dropped down, his cock and large body pinning her to the mattress. For now, she was content to lie breathless beneath him.

As her body relaxed, she roamed her hands over his back, fingers sinking into the deep indent of his spine. “I love you,” she whispered in his ear.

His soft grunting response made her smile.

At last, he rolled them until they lay side by side, her thigh riding his hip to keep their bodies intimately locked together.

“We should sleep,” he said, his voice already slurring with fatigue.

Nestled against his chest, for once she offered no argument.

The jarring sound of the phone ringing woke them both. Cursing, Sam reached out and slapped his nightstand, finding his iPhone.

Cait groaned and rolled to her back to watch as he tapped the screen. They’d gotten maybe three hours of sleep. Still, she was wide awake, felt a frisson of expectancy that something significant had happened.

“Pierce.”

“Get your ass down to the station,” came Leland’s gruff bark, loud enough she heard. “Reyes is here and wants to talk to the two of you.”

“Be there in thirty,” Sam said and ended the call. He rolled toward her.

Cait leaned up on an elbow.

“You hear that?” he asked, his voice rough as gravel.

“Yeah, sounds like we better hurry.”

They rushed through a shower, conserving water and time, and then headed straight to interrogation.

Leland was waiting in the hallway. “Reyes is in there.” He jerked a thumb toward the door. “And he didn’t lawyer up.” His lips curled in a snarl. “By the looks of him, he might be workin’ on an insanity plea.” He reached out and opened the door but didn’t bother following them in.

When Cait passed him, Leland leaned close. “You do something to him? I don’t care if you did. Man’s a dirt bag, but he doesn’t look right.”

“And your first thought was that I’m somehow to blame?”

“I’d be impressed.”

Really? She narrowed her gaze.

Sam’s lips twitched.

When she stepped into the room and shut the door behind her, she saw what Leland meant.

Sam took the chair opposite Reyes, whose hair stuck up in oily spikes and whose beady eyes were so wide, the whites showed.

More surprising to Cait was who stood behind him. She lifted her chin in a silent greeting to Sylvia, whose red-markered lips were stretched with a wide smile.

Cait took the chair beside Sam’s, aimed a glance toward the camera in the corner of the ceiling, and then settled her full attention on Oscar.

A cup of coffee sat in front of him, and he stared at it, his expression a little wild.

“Oscar,” Sam said, drawing the anxious man’s attention. “The officers read you your rights. Whatever you say now can be used against you. Do you understand?”

Oscar, all bravado gone, nodded, the movement jerking.

“You have something you want to say to me?”

Tears filled Oscar’s eyes, and he began to sob—deep, wrenching cries that made Cait cringe because they were so opposed to his previous arrogant display.

“She won’t leave me alone. The fucking bitch is haunting me.”

Sylvia’s dark eyes narrowed, and she leaned around Oscar. She pointed a finger and then stared at the cup. When she touched it, the cup moved an inch toward him.

Oscar cried out and scooted back his chair. “You see that?”

Sam gave no indication he’d seen the cup move.

Cait had to fight the urge to look in Sylvia’s direction. Instead, she intently watched Oscar Reyes’s shot nerves fray.

“She’s haunting me. Everywhere. Moving things. Writing on mirrors and windows. ‘Confess, confess,’ she says. The bitch knows.”

Sylvia pushed the cup into his lap, and Oscar leapt from his chair, shouting before curling into a fetal position in one corner of the room. “I spoke with a dude at the Deluxe,” he whispered, not lifting his head. “Said he’d take care of my whore of a wife. Said he was in the business of taking out whores. He got me drunk. Got me to agree. Then I gave him my wife’s Match.com password. She didn’t know I knew she had an account. She was flirting with other men online.” His face rose to meet Sam’s steady stare. “What was I supposed to do?”

Sylvia stood next to him, one hip hitched forward, her arms crossed under her ample breasts. “Joo a loser, Oscar. An idiota! Now joo gonna go to jail. Ha!”

Cait kept a straight face, but just barely. The man cowered like a whipped puppy.

Sylvia was on fire, flipping her hair behind her shoulder and doing a little victory dance in her pink heels. She shot a glance at Cait. “That enough to get him?”

“Oscar,” Cait said loudly to break through another round of loud sobs. “Who was the man who approached you?”

Oscar sniffed. “Some fireman at the Union Street station. Eddie.”

She winked at Sylvia and then angled her body toward Sam.

He hadn’t written a word in his notebook. Nor had he clicked the end of the Nick the Plumber pen. “Eddie,” he said, giving her a glare.

Cait raised her shoulder. “He seemed like such a nice guy.”

His gaze smoldered, so she moved around on her chair until she felt a twinge, and let him see it.

His lips curved. “Guess we’re done here,” he said, his gaze locking with hers. “Back to the hotel?”

Her breath left in a whoosh. She hadn’t expected him to cave that easily, and gave him a nod.

“I’d like to see the recording your buddies from Reel PIs have.”

Leland met them in the hallway as uniforms led Oscar away to booking. “Strange shit. Can’t edit that tape since it’s evidence.”