2000 Kisses

by Christina Skye

  Her chin rose. “No?”

  “No.”

  “Fine. I just wanted us both to be certain of that.”

  The words left him cursing. “What kind of man do you think I am?”

  “A decent man. A man with a streak of honor a mile wide. A man who’s being pushed to the limit, and in the process he’s turned my world upside down,” she whispered. Her fingers feathered lower. “A very hard man.”

  He closed his eyes at that slight, skimming touch. Unbearable if she continued. Even more unbearable if she stopped.

  Twilight draped the peaks in flawless electric blue. One cloud topped the horizon, pink and purple in the fading sunlight.

  “Look. There’s the first star.”

  He managed to relax enough to chuckle. “That’s Venus, not a star.”

  “It looks like a star to me.”

  “No,” T.J. whispered, “you look like the star.” His throat was dry. He knew he was about to do something irreversible and reckless, but he couldn’t seem to care. “You’re beautiful enough to make a wish on.”

  “So make one.”

  “I did. I think it’s already happening.”

  She smiled with aching beauty, fitting her body to his. “I doubt anything could be better than this.”

  “You’re wrong about that.” His voice was husky. “I’ll show you just how wrong, Duchess.”

  Her eyes shimmered like the planet gleaming above the far horizon. She wasn’t his type, T.J. knew. She didn’t know the first thing about relaxing, and public relations was only a phrase to him. There wasn’t a single compatible thing between them.

  And it made no difference. There was only one way this amazing awareness between them could end, and he didn’t want to take any bets on who would be hurt the most.

  Tess brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “Venus. That’s the lovers’ star, isn’t it?”

  There was a pounding in his ears as her perfume drifted around him. “Could be.”

  Abruptly Miguel’s words whispered through his mind. This woman could be many things to you, I think. Sometimes a path must lead far away before it brings one home.

  Her head moved to the curve of his shoulder. Her hand stole around his waist. “Sorry I brought up money.” She looked up, her gaze searching in the velvet twilight. “I had to be sure that this—” She brought her hand to his chest, where his blood hammered. “That this was personal. Not business. Especially if things went further.”

  “Oh, things are going further,” he said, realizing he’d made his decision the second he’d seen her so worried and uncertain behind those crazy black glasses. “And it’s damned well going to be personal when I touch you, Tess.” He brought her palm to his lips, surprising them both with the gesture. He enjoyed the way pleasure skittered over her face as he found the warm center of her hand and nipped softly.

  Her eyes closed on a sigh. Her body flowed against him, all curves to his hard angles. “In that case, there’s something you should know.” Her head tilted, giving access to her neck as he covered her with slow, measuring kisses. “Just so you’re sure—so you understand.”

  He skimmed her shoulder and eased her robe lower, greedy for more of her. “Understand what?”

  “Things.” She swallowed as he opened the robe, inch by slow inch, his eyes hot with intent.

  “What kind of things?” he muttered hoarsely.

  The robe trailed lower, then settled on the upper swell of her breasts. “It’s important.” Her breath caught.

  “To you, especially.” She held the robe in place, her fingers trembling.

  “Is there someone else?” His whole body went tense.

  “No. Not in a long time.”

  “Fine.” Past tense he could live with. He didn’t want a list of the other men she’d known. Andrew had said there weren’t many and one or a dozen made no difference. T.J. knew her body and her moods. What she felt with him would be different from what she’d tasted with any other man; he’d damned well see to that.

  The dark, feral part of him growled that he would be her last, her best, the one who’d strip her bare and make her scream in pleasure. They’d spend the rest of their lives learning how to please each other.

  But it was a dream.

  Forever wasn’t possible. Boston and Arizona were at two ends of the continent, and two poles apart in state of mind. So he’d settle for tonight, for making a now that felt like forever and a joy that would be an enduring gift for both of them.

  He traced the corner of her mouth and frowned. “I hope you’re not going to tell me you were behind that bank job in Flagstaff last month.”

  “Of course I wasn’t.”

  He nodded gravely. “What about that counterfeiting ring in Nogales?”

  She shook her head.

  He brushed her breast beneath the fine lace and silk and watched the crown stiffen and swell at his touch. He followed with his mouth.

  Her eyes darkened. He enjoyed how her breath caught.

  “Not part of that car-jacking operation over in Yuma, were you? If so, I’d have to get my cuffs.” He held her captive beneath his palms, her skin hot and tight with arousal.

  “N-no. Of course not. But I—”

  “Good.” The robe fell. Only her skin met his callused fingers. He closed his eyes, wanting her everywhere, in every way a man could possess. When he looked at her again, desire hazed her eyes, and color skimmed her cheeks.

  Then T.J. froze at the sight of the dark streaks at her rib and elbow.

  His hands gently skimmed the bruises from her fall. He didn’t want to hurt her, but there were ways to manage that. In fact, he was planning to be infinitely inventive about what he did next.

  He swept her up before she could question or protest, the robe clinging to her waist. Five steps brought him across the porch, beneath a tangle of crimson bougainvillea. Five more brought him to the waterfall that raced down into a pool of churning water.

  “T.J.?”

  He worked off her robe and let it fall to the hand-cut flagstones, savoring the sight of her until color swirled through her face. Then he stepped over the rocks into the pool with Tess locked in his arms and let warm water lap around them.

  “You—you’re still dressed.”

  He was devoutly thankful he’d already kicked off his boots. Wet jeans might even be an asset, holding back the savage fantasies that had to stay just that until her bruises healed.

  “It’s lovely,” she whispered as the water frothed and swirled around them. “But aren’t you uncomfortable?”

  With wet denim hugging his rigidly aroused anatomy, uncomfortable wasn’t even close. He managed a casual shrug. “Forget about me.”

  It wasn’t hard to stare as water streaked her skin, rendering the narrow strips of lace translucent, but the sight of her all-too-fresh bruises left T.J. clamping down viciously on his desire. He was congratulating himself on his success, when her hip brushed his thigh.

  She gave a startled sound, her gaze on his face. “You’re so—that is, you feel as if—” Her face went crimson. “Of course you are. It’s the heat, the water. It’s perfectly normal.”

  Cursing, he pulled her astride his thighs as the water jetted around them. “News flash, Duchess. The heat and the water have nothing to do with it.” He tried to ignore the wet action of her thighs, covered by a mere wedge of lace. “Now, what was so important before?”

  “Important?”

  “Something that you had to tell me.”

  She drew a breath. “It’s not easy to say. To remember.”

  Another man? Jealousy swiped at him with vicious claws, but he kept his expression calm. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’m a police officer, remember? You can’t say anything I haven’t heard before.”

  She moved restlessly and sent fresh pain slashing through his groin. “You have a right to know. People should be honest, don’t you think?” She frowned, chewing her lip. “No matter the consequences.”


  He was starting to worry. “Generally, yes. But sometimes honesty can be overrated.” Water lifted her up and down, skimming over the wet silk covering her breasts.

  T.J. wanted desperately to rip the silk free and bury himself in the sweeter silk of her body.

  She frowned. “You’re saying sometimes people should lie to each other?”

  “I don’t know what I’m saying right now.” He closed his eyes as she anchored herself by gripping his shoulders while their bodies gently drifted up and down.

  Wet jeans didn’t help, he discovered.

  “I don’t want to lie. Not to you,” she whispered, brushing the wet hair at his shoulders. “It’s about me.” She looked up, her eyes full of shadows.

  He couldn’t stand the weight of her anxiety. He steeled himself for painful revelations. “What about you?”

  She lost her hold and the current pumped her against him ruthlessly. She grabbed for something solid. Missing his chest, her hand struck his waist and slid over his straining zipper. “Sorry,” she hissed, jerking her fingers away.

  “Tell me the rest.”

  “It’s me. How I feel. How I don’t feel. Usually.” Their bodies brushed, bumped. He gave up trying to understand as she wrapped her knees around his waist to keep from floating off again. Muscles screamed. Heat seared.

  His hand opened, sliding over the scrap of fine lace. “How do your bruises feel?”

  “Bruises? Oh, much better. It’s the water.” She gave a crooked smile. “Or maybe it’s the company.”

  “Definitely the company.” His hands moved over her thigh. He studied her face as his thumbs hitched under the elastic barrier.

  Her breath puffed free. “T.J., I want to tell you about—”

  “Later.” His voice was hoarse as he skimmed beneath the barrier of silk and lace. She clutched his shoulders, closing her eyes with a gasp at his slow exploration. She was tight and sleek and he took a keen pleasure in watching her surprise shoot into desire.

  “But you aren’t—you haven’t—”

  He bit gently at her shoulder, feeling her back arch when the first tremors hit. Each rhythmic stroke made her moan and press against him. She was beautiful in her passion, beautiful as she gasped out his name.

  Night was a curtain of velvet as she collapsed against his chest. The pounding of his heart was oddly distant, as was the unrelieved torment centered in his straining lower anatomy. Neither mattered. All focus was reduced to the woman now softly cradled against his chest.

  When she tried to pull away, he tilted her face up to his. Even in the darkness, he saw her distress. “What now?”

  “You. Me. It wasn’t—”

  “Wonderful?” His eyebrow rose. “Maybe I missed something amid the shivering and those soft, broken sounds you made.”

  Color flooded her face. “It was wonderful. But—”

  “Good.” He pulled her back against him, loath to give up the pleasure of her warm body. “So what was that other thing you had to tell me?”

  She ran a hand through her hair, frowning. “It doesn’t matter. Not anymore. That’s just it, don’t you see?”

  He didn’t, not for a second. But he was enjoying the sight of her too much to be irritated. McCall was a patient man, and his thoroughness always resulted in answers. “Move your leg. Just there.”

  Frowning, she complied.

  “Now the other. That’s right.”

  “Why?” The wisp of lace drifted over her ankles and floated off into the steaming currents. Then the front clasp at her chest snapped free, and her last scrap of clothing bobbed in the water.

  “You’re very efficient.”

  “I try to be.” A weight settled over his chest as he stared at her, pale and beautiful in the light of the rising moon. “I’ve never seen anything I’ve wanted more.” With one slow movement he cradled her against his arm while his mouth savored the lush curve of her breast. He saw her eyes glaze over, heard her soft, broken sound of pleasure as his hand slid low to close over her again.

  She shuddered beneath his callused fingers, then twisted free and jammed her hands against his chest. “No. Not again.”

  “It’s pleasure, Tess. I have no problem giving you this.” His voice was rough, testament to the battle he waged with his control.

  She closed her eyes, shivering as he eased higher into the sleek heat and found the exquisitely hidden nexus of her desire.

  “Or this,” he murmured.

  Her body snapped back. Passion slammed through her. After her broken cry faded, she studied him through the steam. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  Her heart was pounding. He felt every jolt against his palm.

  “I don’t—” She broke off with a muttered oath. “That’s what I tried to tell you before.”

  He brushed a curl from her cheek, savoring the energy in her vibrant face, the intensity of her eyes. “I’m listening.”

  “Stop distracting me,” she ordered. She caught his wrist and pushed him away, hissing in surprise when he palmed her breast instead. “It’s this—whatever you do. I’ve never—” She gave a soft whimper as his teeth closed exquisitely over her nipple. Her head sank back as he sent desire spilling in a new wave of heat.

  Her eyes opened as he anchored her cheeks in his palms. “Don’t tell me that you’ve never been with a man before.”

  Her smile was a pale curve of moonlight. “Only two. Eminently forgettable, I’m afraid.”

  “Colleagues?”

  “Do we really have to talk about this?” She sank against him, her cheek to his chest. Her hand eased beneath his collar. “We’re going to have to get you out of this wet shirt.”

  “Later,” he grated. “Talk to me.”

  She slid open a button and combed through the damp hair beneath. “It was a few years ago. He was a geologist who traveled a lot. In fact, we managed to spend only one weekend together. It wasn’t exactly … memorable.”

  T.J. wished he had the geologist within reach at that moment. “No?” he probed.

  She moved closer, her hand drifting over his chest. “It was all very organized.”

  Organized? What the hell did that mean? “He was methodical?”

  She nodded. “Everything was timed down to the minute. He said if he wasn’t organized in his line of work, he could miss a gusher.”

  It was all T.J. could do to choke back laughter.

  She looked up at the strangled sound he couldn’t quite suppress. “It was over in a few moments. After that, he fell asleep and snored.”

  “Tell me about the other one.”

  She shook her head ruefully. “Remember the wooden horse in the photo shoot I arranged?”

  T.J. nodded.

  “The other one was the actor for that campaign.”

  T.J. felt a grin forming. “The one who fell off only twice?”

  “That’s him. It was probably a minor error in judgment. Actually, a major error in judgment.” Her voice tightened. “It turned out that he didn’t—that I couldn’t—” She looked away.

  T.J. pressed her head against his chest, fighting the urge to take her beneath him now and show her exactly how different it could be. “They were fools,” he said hoarsely.

  “I figured it was my problem, something that was wrong with me.” Her fingers drifted low and his shirt opened.

  Irritably, T.J. stripped the garment free and let it float away to join hers. “Anything else you want to tell me?”

  She smiled into his chest, her fingers raking him lightly. “That I’m not good at this. That I haven’t ever been able to—let go.”

  “I guess you were wrong.” His voice went smoky. “About four times wrong, by my count.” He turned gently. “And that’s just for starters.”

  She leaned forward, gripping his shoulders for a kiss that left him dizzy. “That’s for correcting my mistaken impressions.”

  “So you had a thing for cowboys even then.”

  “He wasn’t really a cowboy. I foun
d out that he’d learned his Texas twang from watching old reruns of Rawhide. He bought his boots on East Forty-second Street in New York.”

  “Not many horses there,” T.J. drawled. “Except for the mounted police units.”

  Her husky laughter spilled into a breathless sigh as she found his belt and tugged slowly.

  “You might not want to tackle that right now, Tess.”

  “No?” She slid the prong free. “Why is that?”

  Pain jolted, hot and swift as she brushed the straining outline of his erection. “Because it might take you places you don’t want to go.”

  Her lips curved in determination as she straddled him, tugging his belt free loop by loop. “Are you telling me what I do and don’t want to do, Sheriff?”

  “No, Ma’am,” he said through gritted teeth. “But—”

  “Good.” Her fingers eased the single button free, then found his zipper. “Because I wouldn’t be listening very hard.” The metal tab eased downward. “I want to see you. Feel you,” she whispered. “And I can’t wait any longer. If what you did felt good, then I can’t even imagine what the real thing will be like. Actually, I’m tired of imagining.”

  “Tess.” His fingers locked over her wrist, holding her still. “You’re sore and bruised. It’s probably been a while for you.”

  Her smile came, fast and crooked. “It’s been forever, McCall, in every way that counts. Now, stop giving me excuses I don’t want or need and take off those damned jeans before we both scream.”

  18

  Water frothed over her high, full breasts. T.J. closed his eyes, aware that he was about to do something stupid. Irresponsible.

  Wonderful.

  “Let me handle the belt.” He stood up, then yanked against the wet, clinging denim. He felt her gaze burning on him every second.

  It took him too long to kick free of the denim and dispose of the white cotton beneath. He didn’t know whether to be pleased or self-conscious when her eyes widened.

  “Very impressive, McCall.” She caught his hand and pulled him back into the water.

  He fought for finesse, for care and control.

  It appeared that Tess wanted neither. Her hands speared into his hair and her mouth moved hungrily against his. “I don’t know how or why, but all I can think of is you. This.” She scraped her nails lightly along the length of him, her eyes dazed.