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    innocent chocolate eyes staring up at him as his cock head disappeared into her mouth almost had a groan ripping from his chest.
    That vision haunted him; that one and several others. The sight of her pussy, dark curls saturated with her juices as he parted the tender folds with his thick erection. The sound of her cries as he tucked the hungry crest at her rear and took her there, hearing her shock, her pleasure. Dreams that had haunted him for
    years. Dreams he intended to make reality now that he had her.
    “To the boat.” His houseboat. The Nauti Dawg. His home.
    He heard the hard breath she took.
    “No.”
    He glanced at her, seeing the revulsion on her face, and a flare of anger pierced his mind again. She hadn’t been good enough to step foot into his home eight years ago, and she still thought she was too good for it.
    “You prefer jail?” He eased up on the gas, glancing around as though looking for a place to turn around.
    “I wasn’t doing anything,” she argued desperately then. “You know I wasn’t, Dawg. It was a
    coincidence—”
    “I don’t believe in coincidence, Crista.”
    “A mistake then,” she cried out as he began easing to the wide shoulder just ahead. “God, Dawg, you
    know I don’t do drugs.”
    He pulled over and came to a stop. Draping his arms over the steering wheel, he stared back at her
    silently.
    “You can’t take me to jail, Dawg. Alex will be home soon, he’ll tell you. This is all a mistake.”
    “Alex can’t fix this one, Crista,” he told her softly, meaning it. “You’re stuck with me.” He gave her a minute to process that. “Or jail. Your choice.”
    She was breathing hard, erratically. If it were only fear that he had glimpsed in her eyes, he would have let her off the hook right then. God knew Alex could definitely deal with this when he got home. But it
    wasn’t just fear; he saw heat there, and something more. Something elusive, a knowledge, a certainty that something was getting ready to rock her little world.
    She licked her lips. A quick little flick of her tongue that had his guts tightening in hunger. He wanted that tongue, and he wanted it bad enough to do something so despicable, so dirty it almost, just almost, made him cringe.
    He smiled instead, because it was going to be good. So damned good.
    “Do I turn around, or do we continue to the marina?” he asked her then. “Your choice, sweetheart.”
    And if she chose turning around, what the hell would he would do then? He waited, staring back at her,
    his expression bland, his gaze, he knew, hot and hungry. She knew what he wanted. She knew the price he
    was exacting for pulling her out of this one.
    Her lips trembled before she licked them again. Her gaze flickered with indecision. And he wasn’t going
    to help her. He’d be damned if he would go back to chasing after her like a dog after a bitch in heat and being turned away every time. Not this time. This time, it was his game. His way or jail. Or at least, that was the impression he was intent on giving her.
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    “Don’t turn around,” she finally whispered, her gaze dropping, her head turning back to stare stiffly
    through the windshield once again.
    “We go to the Nauti Dawg, then?” he asked her.
    “If that’s my only choice.” Her voice was tense, angry.
    Fine, let her be angry. He’d been damned mad himself eight years ago, and he could still remember the
    fury when he realized she had left town with another man. Realized, nothing, he had seen her in the car
    with the bastard as they drove out of town.
    He still remembered that one. Hell, he had nightmares about that one when he least expected them.
    “It’s not your only choice, Crista Ann,” he said softly. “You can go explain to the authorities what you were doing there. That