But her skin p.r.i.c.kled with the idea of it. That Asher, with his full lips and dripping charisma would come to see her.

She giggled as tingles moved from her fingers to her stomach and landed at her most sensitive part. Asher was right-she hadn't been taken care of properly. She hadn't been touched or f.u.c.ked or treated like a woman in a very long time and she ached to feel it then. If only for a minute.

Her fingers moved of their own accord.

Down, down, down until her perfectly manicured finger tip rested against her c.l.i.t.

It was unnatural for Diana to touch herself this way. Most often, she'd relied on Neil to satisfy her basic needs and when he failed, her vibrator did the trick. But that night, she'd wanted to feel it all. The touch of her own fingers moving inside of her. The rise and fall of her desire as she explored herself.

Yes. Take care of me, like you said you would.

She imagined Asher standing in front of her, naked.

How would his chest look against the glint of moonlight? Was he a smooth shaver like many of the rich men had become or had he retained his mark of manliness?

Her gaze roamed down imaginary Asher's body, taking in the deep v of his lower abdomen.

"Show me, how you'll take care of me." She hesitated before glancing as his c.o.c.k.

She wanted to savor it.

"Show me." She pushed her finger inside of herself, deep enough to feel a sharp pain and then a waterfall of pleasure.

"Yes, Asher." The deeper she explored, the wetter she became. A warm slickness smeared all over her fingers. She alternated her speed from fast, twitchy probes to slow, thrusting thrusts.

Her voice came out in a sensual whisper. "Yes."

Only then, once she'd hit a level of desire she wasn't sure she could come back from, did she glance at the imaginary Asher's c.o.c.k.

"f.u.c.k yes." She wasn't a woman of exotic fantasies and unrealistic eight-foot d.i.c.ks. She saw that he was average but thick. Not really long, but stretched out enough to please her every desire.

"Let me show you what a man does to a woman that he wants to provide for," the imaginary Asher groaned.

That thick, c.o.c.k throbbed in front of her and she reached out to grab him, but pulled away when she hit the spot inside of her that drove her crazy.

"Jesus..." Her breathing increased with the desire coursing through her.

How had she never taken the time to do this before? Who needed a man when fingers were just as magical?

Asher's c.o.c.k came back into focus and she so desperately wanted him then. She wanted to pull him into her mouth and suck his entire length, until he moaned for mercy.

She wanted him to f.u.c.k her from behind, his b.a.l.l.s slapping against her a.s.s.

She wanted him to taste her, every juicy bit she had to give.

Diana groaned as she came, her body wracking with mini-seizures. Her muscles tensed as she let the last part of her o.r.g.a.s.m release and then she felt it.

The explosion.

The disorder of pain and pleasure, greed and gluttonous l.u.s.t.

It all numbed her.

Made her shattered into nothing.

This zero state where she didn't really exist in the world, Just on this plane of Sweet, glorious, nothingness.

Eight.

Cupid

Through the window, Asher stood on Diana's balcony and watched her fall asleep. He'd come here out of the sheer urge to see her for a few more minutes. Breaking into her condo had been easy. Neil kept no real security, just some old guard at the entrance gate that had been sleeping when Asher climbed the gate and crept by.

His visit was only supposed to be a few minutes. Nothing more. A quick look, and then back over the gate, on the bike, and racing down the road.

But then she took off her clothes and stepped into the shower, and Asher could no longer think of why he would leave so soon.

Are you satisfied, sweet one?

How beautiful she slept after such a hard core o.r.g.a.s.m.

Had she known he hid in the shadows, with his gaze hungry and plastered on her bare body? Did she sense the energy in the air, the same cold waves of power that sparked over his skin as she fingered herself?

He'd gripped his c.o.c.k the whole time, at the first utterance of his name from her lips. He'd rubbed the throbbing tip, and yearned so badly to rush in and take care right there.

But he couldn't.

There was confidence in the hunting of a man, and then there was. . .

just plain old crazy.

Scaring the s.h.i.t out of Diana as she m.a.s.t.u.r.b.a.t.ed in the shadows of her bedroom, would be insane.

No.

He waited.

studied the groove of her body as it writhed in pleasure, and he hoped. . .

prayed that he'd be able to caress her exactly the way she touched herself.

Diana. Diana. Things are certainly going to change.

Nine.

Diana

Lunch on Ovid Island was as much an affair as dinner. If you belonged to the right crowd that is.

Diana took her spot beneath a creamy white umbrella, the frosted gla.s.s table set with matching daises, plates and linens. The waiter asked her what she would like to drink.

"I think I'll take a lemonade," she said, speaking lightly. The day before had been long and tiresome and though she'd done well to tire herself out with pleasure, a weary sensation dragged her down and kept her movements a bit sluggish most of the day.

"Are you sure you shouldn't get a coffee instead?" a deep voice sounded behind her.

There was no need to look back. She knew who it was, had imagined that voice in her ears all night. "No, I don't need coffee. I'm quite sure about that."

Asher came around to the front of the table and took a seat across from her. "You look like h.e.l.l, Diana. I take it you didn't sleep well?"

"I slept well enough. And you, sir, are no gentleman. Haven't you learned how rude it is to comment on a woman's ragged appearance?" She pushed a tendril of hair in front of her face, that had been blowing in the breeze away from her face.

He smiled, though it was a bit forced. Much too put upon. "You're incredibly feisty, do you know that?"

"Of course I do."

"I figured as much." He gestured to the waiter, and ordered a gin and tonic much to her surprise.

Meeting Asher in the daytime, outside of her work environment was different than meeting him at night. Diana couldn't explain it, but it was almost as if he was reserved, docile, uptight during the day, while he let his guard down at night. She supposed that was the way for many, but she had neither the energy nor desire to change herself so rapidly. She was who she was-no matter what the time of day.

"You sure start early."

He waved her off. "It's never too early for libations, Diana. Now, tell me, how are you doing?"

Libations? Really?

"I'm. . .fine," she said.

"Ah. Hesitation. Tell me what's bothering you?"

How had he caught that? Was she that transparent? So see-through that this stranger, this man, could see right through her?

"It's nothing, really. My mind playing tricks on me. It's just. . .I swear there was someone in my condo last night."

"You think there was or you know there was?" Asher leaned forward.

"Well I didn't exactly see anyone in my house. I heard something, like footsteps. And then when I went to bed, I thought I saw someone on my balcony."

The minute it crossed her lips, Diana laughed. "s.h.i.t. I'm losing it. This sounds so silly."

He reached his hand across the table and covered hers. "You might be losing it, but there is a murderer on the loose. Someone who knows who you are and what you do. This, Cupid, as you call him or her, might be aware that you're close to the truth. If your article caught my attention, why wouldn't it catch his? I don't think it's wise for you to be alone."

She laughed then, at the seriousness in his tone. The way his eyes commanded every ounce of her attention. "Oh, Mr. Bishop. Don't be so dramatic. You don't have to be polite and make up excuses for me. I know what falling off the rocker looks like."

He clenched his hand around hers. "First, it's Asher, not Mr. Bishop. I'm not fifty. Second, I'm not being dramatic. You're a walking target and don't seem the least bit concerned about it."

Diana pulled her hand out from underneath this. "Well, Asher, I've been around the block before. This isn't the first monster I've investigated."

"He's not a monster," Asher blurted out.

"What?"

"There's a difference. There are serial killers, and there are monsters. Some might be both, but just because a man is one, doesn't mean he's the other."

"Whether monster or just plain old serial killer, I'm not scared of Cupid, whoever he or she may be. It's obvious that the motive behind those kills are men hurting women and women hurting women. I'm not hurting anyone."

Asher rolled his eyes. "What's to say the motive can't switch to self-preservation? Who says Cupid won't kill you just to keep his ident.i.ty quiet?"

"You did." She shrugged. "You just made a valid claim that Cupid isn't a monster."

"And what if I'm wrong? Do you need an arrow in your chest to think you might be in danger?"

Asher had a good point. But Diana Carson didn't run away in fear. No one, murderer or not, would push her out of her home, her job, or Ovid Island.

"Cupid is not after me. I truly believe that. I have nothing to worry about."

Asher gave her a look, part condescension, part concern. "As much as I'd like to believe you, I don't. Things are going to have to change. Are you ready for that?"

"Excuse me?" She sipped at her drink.

"You'll be moving into one of my spare bedrooms."

Diana spat out her lemonade. "You're kidding, right?"

His expression remained serious. "No, I'm not."