by Jill Shalvis
"Questions?"
All of which had been met with resistance so far, but he was a patient man. He had this wild, incredible woman alone on the beach with nothing but the water for company, and he was just smart enough to take advantage of it. "You're not afraid of a few questions, are you, Cassie?"
"What about the strip part of the strip poker?"
"If it suits you."
"It's going to suit you." She gestured to her cards. "I'll take two."
"Me, too."
She accepted her cards then fanned them out and showed him a straight. Keeping his gaze locked on hers, he tossed his cards away and peeled off his uniform shirt.
Her eyes flared as his bare chest came into view, and she made no attempt to hide the way she looked him over. "You're in pretty good shape," she murmured. "Considering."
"Considering?"
"Your age."
He barely managed not to sputter. "I'm hardly over the hill at thirty-two."
"Maybe not, but studies do prove you are a decade past your prime. But I wouldn't worry too much…" Again her eyes went on a little tour. He wondered if she'd notice he was hard as a rock. "You seem to be holding up. Deal the cards."
Oh, he'd deal. "Holding?" he asked sweetly. He had a full house.
She laughed and slapped down one card. "Hit me once, but don't hold on to your pants, cowboy. It's nearly over for you."
"All talk, Cassie," he said softly, letting out a husky laugh when she shot him a saucy look.
"We already proved I'm not all talk," she reminded him, her voice just as soft. "Or do you need another lesson?"
He dealt her another card and waited while she lifted a sly eyebrow, cocky as hell, so damned beautiful it almost hurt to look at her. "Isn't that something," he murmured.
Distracted with her cards, she didn't look up. "What?"
"You look amazing when you smile for real."
Her smile started to fade and he put a finger to her lips and shook his head. "Don't stop," he whispered. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry," she said, fanning out her cards for him to see. "Just be naked."
She had two pairs. Studying them, he nodded seriously, then exposed his cards.
"Cheater," she said to his full house.
"You know I didn't cheat."
"Yeah. Damn it." A huff escaped her, and she was still shaking her head when she looked into his eyes and brought her fingers up to the knot beneath her breasts. The three buttons came next, leaving the white gauze open but still covering her breasts. "Lucky hand." With a shrug, the material slipped off her shoulders. For a moment she held her hands over her breasts, then dropped them to her lap.
The blouse fell away, and since she wore nothing beneath it but glorious, generous curves, Tag sucked in a careful breath. "You … have to answer a question now."
"I can't believe you're going to stick to that."
"Yeah." Her breasts were white and creamy, standing out in comparison to the rest of her tanned torso. More than anything he wanted to touch. To lean in and nibble. If he kept thinking along those lines, his pants were going to cut off his circulation. "Give me a sec, I'm having a bit of trouble thinking."
Her nipples slowly hardened.
He swallowed hard and forced his gaze above her chin, remembering he'd done this for a reason. "Why do you hate that I'm a cop? Truth."
She looked away. "I'd rather take a dare."
"You going to welsh on me?"
Her eyes flashed hot. "It's no big mystery, really."
"Then tell me."
She wrapped one arm around her bent knees, hunched over—blocking him from the incredible view of her breasts—and started drawing in the sand. "You might remember, I didn't exactly have the most conventional of childhoods."
Not with a mother who'd switched relationships like some switch shoes. Not with an entire town watching, waiting for her to fall on her face. "I remember."
"You might also remember, my mother was—is—fond of men. We had a lot of them around. For the most part, I hated them all. They were weak and malleable. Led around by their egos. Except one. I thought he was different." Her face hardened. "Turns out he was just like all the other penis-carrying humans. On prom night, he…" She closed her eyes. "He proved it. Asshole."
"And he was a cop?"
"Yeah."
God. Prom night… "Weren't you with Biff?"
Her eyes shuttered and he shook his head. "No, don't clam up, I never believed those stories he's so fond of telling."
"Let's just say Biff wasn't the problem that night."
She'd been seventeen. Underage. Tag's gut twisted. "What exactly happened?"
"Probably nothing as bad as you're thinking. Let's just say we disagreed on what I was willing to put out, so to speak."
"Did he hurt you?"
"No."
Not physically at least. "Cassie."
Another shrug. "You know, to be fair to him, I did have quite the reputation. Being a Tremaine and all. It was no big deal."
She'd been a minor, with someone she'd trusted, when trust had not come easy, and that cop had destroyed that trust. Fury bubbled, but she was looking at him with eyes that dared him to offer sympathy. "We going to play or what?"
Reaching out, he stroked her cheek. "I'm sorry, Cassie."
"Water under the bridge."
"No, it's not."
She let out a little laugh. "I know, a shrink would have a field day that I still hate a uniform. Sue me." She grabbed the cards, shuffled and started dealing. "Anyway. End of story."
Hell if it was. "Who was it?"
"That's another question, and…" She looked over her cards. "You'll have to win first. Which I don't plan on letting you do." She showed him her three queens. "What do you have?"
A damn pair of twos. He turned his hand to show her.
"Bummer." Her gaze was glued to his body as he stood up and unzipped his pants. When he kicked them off and tossed them to where his shoes, socks and shirt already lay, she grinned. "I have to give it to you, Sheriff. You're a man of your word."
And that appealed to her, he could see that. With his uniform gone, she'd warmed up toward him, in a way that was warming him up, as well.
She'd sat back, resting her weight on her palms behind her. Beneath the glow of the stars, her bare breasts were offered up like a feast. "You're also a man with the most incredible physique." Leaning over, she ran a hand down his chest, swirled it around his belly button, then toyed with the elastic edging of his dark blue knit boxers.
He was already hard. He knew she was trying to seduce him to deflect more questions, and if she hadn't been so incredibly sexy, it might have been infuriating. As it was, he didn't have enough blood left in his brain to be infuriated. "Cassie—"
"My turn for a question," she said softly, her finger just barely under the edge of his shorts. A fraction of an inch more and she'd meet hard, hot flesh. "Ever been in love, Tag?"
It was the last thing he expected her to ask. And with her finger now dipping into his shorts, he could hardly think. "Twice."
Her eyes flickered. Disappointment? "Twice?"
"Kelly May Johnson." Oh, yeah, definitely a flicker. Maybe even more.
Interesting, very, very interesting. Enlightened, he took his own finger on a tour, too; ran it up her arm, watching her nipples pebble tighter. "She was so pretty. Dark hair, heart-shaped face, petite little thing." When his fingers ran over one soft shoulder and down her collarbone, she shivered, and slapped his hand away.
"You asked," he reminded her, biting back his grin.
"My mistake."
He brought his finger back to her collarbone and very carefully traced the very top of her breasts. "I was in fifth grade." He laughed when she shot him a look. "She broke my heart at second recess when she left me for Tommy O'Mara."
She grinned. "You were dumped." Her grin went shaky when his finger danced down, down … right between her breasts now.
"And the second?
" she asked a bit breathlessly.
He added his other fingers to the one skimming beneath a generous curve over her ribs, his thumb outstretched, just barely caressing the weight of a breast. "I was engaged a while back. Turns out it wasn't love, just temporary lust. It passed."
"I've never been in love," she said, closing her eyes on a sigh at his caress. The rest of her hand slipped beneath the material of his shorts. "I've never mistaken lust for love."
Tag wrapped his hand around her wrist just as she wrapped her fingers around him.
Their gazes met, Tag's admittedly hazy. But he'd just realized something shocking. That no matter what she said, no matter how fierce and cool and wild she acted, she'd never been wanted, craved or needed for anything but the facade she gave people. She'd never been loved for the woman she was on the inside … Cassie Tremaine Montgomery.
Eyes on his, she fisted him. Stroked him. "Oh, yeah," she breathed. "A very nice physique indeed. Are you going to get yours tonight, Tag? Or are you going to just watch me again?"
She wasn't talking making love. She was talking sex. That's how she wanted it, that's all she knew. He understood that now. With sex she could keep it reined in, could control it.
The idea of giving up that tight control terrified her. But she would let go, he was bound and determined about that.
He would show her the way life was supposed to be. That a relationship went two ways. She could give what she wanted, but she would receive, as well. She could allow someone to care for her, even love her. She could share what was on the inside as well as the outside, and she could be safe while doing it.
But then she stroked him again, this time letting her thumb swirl over the very tip of him as she did, and he nearly lost it.
"Good?" she whispered.
He couldn't find his tongue much less use it.
Her other hand dipped into his shorts, too, cupping him, causing him to suck in a hard breath. "Tag? Good?"
"You know it is," he managed.
"I aim to please."
Hmm. She could prove that. Later. But first he had a lot to show her. A whole lot. With a smile, he slid his hands up the backs of her legs to her perfect, edible butt. Gripping a cheek in each palm, he yanked.
With a gasp, she fell flat to her back on the sand. When she went to sit up, he towered over her, still smiling, thrilling to the way she licked her lips a little uncertainly, just before he claimed her mouth with his.
* * *
Chapter 8
«^»
When Tag pulled back from her mouth to drag hot, wet, openmouthed kisses down her throat, Cassie watched the stars above his head dance, hardly able to draw a breath.
He continued his exploration, intent but unrushed, which in itself was a new experience for her. Fast, hard, hot sex was pretty much her forte. She had no need, nor yearning, for anything drawn out and complicated. And she especially had no need for morning afters.
Oh, he knew how to use his mouth. And suddenly shortness of breath didn't seem to be her only problem as he worked his way leisurely through her senses, destroying them one by one with terrifying ease.
Somewhere along the way a knot in her belly had developed. It wasn't supposed to be there. This was supposed to be done her way, in her time. "I've … gotta go," she decided, and pushed at him.
Supporting himself on his elbows, still sprawled above her, Tag lifted his head and looked into her eyes. "No more running," he said. "Not from me."
The knot in her belly tightened, but she forced an easy smile. "Surely you don't mean to … here…"
His smile was genuine. And so unsettlingly sexy. "Haven't you ever made love outside before?"
Made love. She swallowed hard. "Tag—"
Gently he covered her mouth with his in a kiss that melted her with its sweetness. When he lifted his head, he smiled. "Scared you with that L-word, didn't I?" When she closed her mouth, he cocked his head. "Admit it."
"I'll admit sex is a better term."
"Do you always get your way?"
Now they were bantering, back on familiar ground. She could handle this. "Absolutely. Tag—" Before she could finish, his mouth took hers, and after a moment she forgot what she was going to say. Forgot everything but getting his hands on her again. "Are you going to get to it or what?"
He let out a low laugh, unbearable in its sexiness. "We could." Almost idly, he traced a nipple with the pad of his thumb. She made a small sound, a sound of wanting, desire, and his eyes darkened as he made the motion again. "You're so beautiful, Cassie."
Her heart picked up speed, and was joined by a quickening inside her. The knot in her belly tightened all the more.
Another pass of his thumb over her puckered nipple, and with a low groan, he bent his head, replacing his touch with his tongue.
She nearly died.
She was still trying to recover when he cupped her face in his hands, tipping it up so that she could see nothing but his face, so intent on hers, his eyes shining with promise. He kissed her again, his mouth as firm and hungry as his body, sensual and heated and so deliciously male. Never before had she understood the passion of a kiss, but she was beginning to. It made her knees weak, and she gripped him for support. By the time he lifted his head again, she was dizzy.
"Here." His voice was low, gritty. "Right here." God knows, there were a million reasons why they shouldn't. And yet, with his hands all over her, with his amazing body on hers, she couldn't remember a single one. "Here," she whispered. "Right here."
The words were barely past her lips before he took her mouth again. Deeper, hotter, then again. And again, yet somehow still leisurely, as if he had all the time in the world. Lowering his head, plumping up her breasts with his hands, he opened his mouth on a pouting nipple, teasing, licking, sucking, and finally nibbling her to a writhing frenzy. Then he turned his mouth to her other side while his hands ran down her body, over her gauzy skirt. "I've been wondering all night what's beneath this," he said hoarsely against her skin.
She opened her mouth twice before she managed to speak. "Why don't you check for yourself?"
With characteristic bluntness, he did just that, then let out a rough groan as he pushed up the material, baring her to her waist. Ran a finger over the edging of her very tiny lace panties. "Pretty." He spread her legs, settling his big body between them. Staring up at her, he dragged the lace aside.
Then bent his head to study what he'd revealed. Blinking up at the stars, she waited, holding her breath, knowing he was looking at her, open and vulnerable in a way she couldn't remember ever being before. "Did you forget what to do?" she managed to quip. "Because I could—"
He glided a finger over the throbbing spot between her thighs and all words backed up in her throat.
"You could what, Cassie?"
"Um…"
That knowing, talented finger slowly circled, then sank into her before circling again.
Ohmigod. "Uh…"
Another slow, tortuous round of the finger. "You could … use Big Red? Hmm? Your portable vibrator? I don't think so, Cassie. No batteries tonight. Just me."
She didn't miss those batteries one little bit. Arching back, digging her fingers into the sand at her sides, she gritted her teeth to keep from coming. "Are you going to talk all damn night?"
"Maybe," he said with a smile in his voice. "Just…" She dragged in a breath and spoke through her teeth. "Tell me you have a condom."
"Actually, I have two."
"Thank God," she said fervently.
"But I don't need them yet." He used two fingers now. Around, in, around again, at just the right tempo, as if he knew her body better than she did. He reduced her world to those fingers and the havoc he'd created within her. Oh, yeah, one more time, just one more … but he stopped and dragged a pathetic whimper from her throat.
"Don't worry, you're going to come. Soon as I do what I've been dying to do." He slid off her panties. Used his fingers to spread her open to him. "I'm going to
taste you now, Cassie," he whispered against her, and made good on his promise, using his tongue, his lips, his teeth, until she had to bite her lip to keep from screaming.
Then he dragged the most sensitive patch of skin on her entire body into his mouth and suckled her.
She exploded on the spot.
After what might have been a minute, or maybe a year, she blinked the stars above into focus. Managed to lift her head to find him resting his on her belly, watching her closely.
He smiled. "Hey."
"Condom," she demanded.
He laughed and surged up to his knees, pulling one out of the pocket of his pants.
Pushing him to the sand, she grabbed the packet from him and opened it with her teeth. Spitting out the foil corner, she concentrated on her task, sucking in a breath at the feel of him, all hard, velvety steel in her hands. "Mmm, much better than Big Red."
"Cassie," he said in a voice that sounded a little strangled, and she looked into his face. His jaw was tight, his eyes hot, and as she watched, slowly stroking him, he let his head fall back on his shoulders and groaned.
Oh, yeah, power was good, she thought greedily. Bending over him, letting her hair fall across his heated flesh, she kissed the very tip of his penis, eliciting another tortured groan from his lips. Suddenly she found the value of taking her time, and she smiled as she slowly, slowly, rolled the condom down his length.
"You know exactly how badly you're killing me, right?"
"Uh-huh."
Tag, being who he was, managed to let out a tight smile. "I'll get you back for this."
"Promises, promises." Finished, she sat back and let her hands skim over her own body. "Come inside me."
All humor faded from Tag's expression to be replaced with a sheer heat and need that made her tremble anew. Running his hands up her thighs, he held them open, made a place for himself between them, and thrust home.
She cried out, she couldn't help it. She'd never felt so heated, so high, so filled. One stroke and she nearly came. Two strokes, and she did, with another helpless cry as her body became one endless wave of exalted bliss while he continued to move. Then she heard the rough groan torn from Tag as he came, too, and realized he was trembling, breathing as harshly as she was.
