"These, too."
Her skin sparked as he slid his hands down her legs. When he tore the panties off, his chest flattened her now-naked breasts. The sensation of his skin rubbing her nipples made them painfully hard. Need and want together danced through her until she could think of nothing but Connor. Feel nothing but his body against hers. It was as if she'd never made love before him. Never realized her body could crave a man's touch. Crave Connor's touch.
She arched into him, and he slid his mouth over hers. His lips were soft. Hot. Still tasted faintly of the toothpaste he'd used last night.
"Touch me," she said into his mouth. "Please, Connor."
He deepened the kiss until his tongue was stroking hers, his hips moving in the same rhythm. It felt as if every part of their bodies were joined, inside and out.
Inarticulate sounds came from her mouth as she tried to get closer. She needed his body melded to hers. Joined to hers. Now.
But instead of giving in to her body's pleading, he held onto her hips, rocking against her. "You had your turn playing with me," he murmured against her mouth. "My turn to play."
He made his way down her neck to her collarbone. Lingered at the tiny hollow above it, licking and sucking at her skin. When she was panting and moaning above him, he moved lower. She twisted so that her breast was close to his mouth, but he didn't take the hint. He trailed his tongue along each of her ribs, then sucked at the soft skin of her waist.
Squirming against him, she gasped, "You're tickling me."
"Hmmm." The vibrations of his voice against her skin made her squirm even more. "You taste good. Girlie. Sweet."
As he sucked lightly on her skin, she ran her fingers down his side and tickled him back. Grinning, he arched away from her. His leg moved, and he used his toes to tickle the bottoms of her feet.
"I give up. Uncle." She laughed into his neck, twisting her foot away from him. Her skin burned and her body begged for him. How could she be so aroused and be laughing at the same time?
Connor. He made her feel free. Safe. Uninhibited.
He was all she wanted. Everything she needed.
She'd been so wrong when she told him she only wanted fun. This was fun, but it was so much more. This was playing together. Intimacy. Being completely open with him.
This was the kind of fun that filled her soul. That made her want to grab him and hold on forever.
The kind of fun that could last a lifetime.
She rolled onto her back and he rolled with her. Stared down into her eyes as he trailed one hand down her face, down her neck. Cupped her breast. "Tell me what you want, Raine," he said, his voice ruffling the tiny hairs near her ear.
"You." She slid her hands into his hair, felt the silky strands slipping between her fingers. "I just want you. Make love to me, Connor. Please."
He held her gaze for a long moment, then covered her mouth with his. "Raine," he murmured. "I've never wanted anyone the way I want you." He slid into her, and it felt like coming home. Melting into him, she wrapped her body around him as he rocked against her. Tension built and built, until nothing existed but Connor. This moment.
He broke away from the kiss and lowered his head to drag his tongue around her nipple, and her orgasm crashed over her. Sobbing his name, she clung to him as the pleasure went on and on. Stretched out until she was flying with Connor, higher and higher until he shuddered and joined her.
By the time he stopped moving, she was trembling. Panting. Her arms and legs were too heavy to lift. But her heart was light and free. Dancing in her chest. Writing Connor's name on her skin.
Finally, still inside her, Connor rolled over until she was lying on top of him. Then he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly, until if felt as if every inch of her skin was branded with his. He murmured her name, over and over, as she buried her face in his neck and breathed him in.
It was a long time before either of them moved. As he traced shapes on her back, she turned so that her teeth tugged on his earlobe.
"Girlie isn't a taste," she mumbled into his neck.
She felt his smile against her hair. "Yeah, it is. Tastes just like you. A little tart. A little spicy. But underneath, nothing but sweetness."
***
Much later, as they walked down the street hand in hand, Connor leaned in and kissed the corner of her mouth. "You hungry?" he murmured. He nuzzled her ear. "We spent an awful lot of time in the shower."
The memory of that shower sent goose bumps shivering up her arms as she leaned closer. "Hmm. We did, didn't we?" She rose onto her toes and pressed her teeth lightly into his earlobe. He smelled like her soap, and she couldn't hold the smile in. "Not sure we washed everywhere, though. We may have to take another one when we get home."
His eyes were hot when he glanced down at her. "When we get home, we're going straight back to bed." His footsteps slowed, and he dropped her hand to wrap his arm around her waist. His fingers slipped lower until they wandered over her ass. She sucked in a breath as he said, "In fact, maybe we ought to go back there right now."
She reached behind her and grabbed his hand. If he kept touching her ass, she'd throw him down on the grass right here. "Need to keep up our strength," she said into his ear. He shivered as her breath tickled his neck, and she smiled.
"I'm sorry I made you miss breakfast," she continued, trying to wipe the silly grin off her face. "If I promise not to do it again, will you forgive me?"
He let go of her hand to wrap his arm around her shoulder and pull her against him. "You're such a smart ass." She heard the smile in his voice as he dropped a kiss on her head. "And for the record? I'm counting on missing a lot of breakfasts in the future."
Her heart stuttered in her chest. "Is that so?"
"Oh, yeah. Best morning ever." His fingers tightened around her shoulder, then he let her go and reached for her hand again. He seemed to need to touch her as much as she needed to touch him.
Since they'd gotten out of bed earlier, they'd crowded close to each other, staying within touching distance the whole time. Trying to hold onto him as she put on her shorts after their long shower, she'd lost her balance and fallen onto the bed. Which had made them even later.
Their steps slowed as they reached Orange, her favorite breakfast restaurant. A cluster of people hovered near the front door. After Connor led her through the crowd, the harried hostess told them the wait was forty-five minutes. "That's fine," Connor said, giving the woman his name. They edged their way out the door, and after winding through the waiting people, he asked, "Is there a good hardware store around here?"
"Why?" She touched his lips and his eyes darkened. "You hungry enough to eat nuts and bolts?"
He kissed her fingertips and said, "No. Well, yeah, but that's not why I want a hardware store. I want to put another lock on your door. One that's hard to pick. So you're the only one who has the key."
The happiness bubbling through her veins, the lightness in her heart, vanished. For a little while this morning, she'd forgotten about Peter. "There's a little store a few blocks from here that I use," she said. "It's tiny and dark and a maze of stuff, but Rocky has everything. And he knows exactly where it all is."
"Great. We'll get a lock while we're waiting for brunch, then go home and install it after we eat."
Go home. She liked the sound of that.
***
They were half-way back to her apartment after brunch when Connor's cell phone rang. "Donovan," he said as he saw the phone number of the precinct.
"Bellstair here, Donovan," a familiar voice said. "We picked up Meredith Pullen. She's in interrogation. You want to come in and talk to her? Or you want me to put her in holding? Let her sweat a little?"
Connor glanced at Raine. "Keep her in the box. I'll be there in twenty." He ended the call and turned to Raine.
Her soft smile had disappeared, and her eyes were wide. Worried. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah. One of my guys letting me know they brought Meredith in
. I'm going in to talk to her."
"Okay." Her gaze darted around at the parked cars on either side of the street. She shivered once. Then she hunched her shoulders. "You go ahead. I'll stay in my apartment. Won't open the door. Yada, yada."
He watched her throat bob as she swallowed once. Then again. She was scared. Trying not to show it.
"No. Come with me," he said roughly. "I don't want to leave you alone."
"Are you sure?"
She hadn't argued with him. Which meant she was worried. Thinking about Northrup. Wondering if he knew his girlfriend had been arrested. "Yeah. I'll be a lot happier if I know you're sitting at my desk, going through my stuff."
"Really?" The hunch in her shoulders eased a little. "You think I'm going to be snooping?"
"Sure. You'll be looking at the pictures on my desk and playing with my paperclips and trying to figure out why I have ten pens in my drawer."
She took a slow, shuddering breath in. Let it out. "Okay. I'll go with you."
Instead of heading for her courtyard, he reversed direction and walked back to his car. Fifteen minutes later, he walked into the bullpen and saw Bellstair talking to Julia Cooper, one of the other detectives.
"Hey, Cooper. Bellstair," he said.
He pulled out his desk chair for Raine as the uniformed cop walked over. "What's she been doing?" Connor asked.
Bellstair smiled. "Pacing the room. Looking at the door. Reaching into her pocket, like she forgot we took her cell. She's definitely sweating."
"Thanks, Belly," he said, bumping fists with him. "You have time to take notes during my interrogation?"
"Absolutely," the officer said. He hurried to his desk to get a notebook, and Connor turned back to Raine. "If you want something to drink, there's stuff in the break room." He pointed to the tiny room in the corner. "Stick with tea. The coffee pot should be declared a toxic waste dump."
She nodded. "Go ahead. I'll be fine."
He watched as she settled into his chair and pulled out her phone, then he took the file he'd started for Meredith and headed for interrogation. When he reached the door, he took a deep breath. Settled himself. Then he opened the file and read through his notes again.
Finally he walked into the room and sat down across from Meredith.
"Hello, Ms. Pullen," he said. "Thank you for coming in to help us with our investigation."
"What's this about?" She leaned forward. The diamond and sapphire pendant swung forward on its gold chain, the colors washed out in the harsh fluorescent lights. "That officer took my phone. Wouldn't let me make any phone calls."
"I need to ask you some questions first," Connor said easily. "Afterwards, if we arrest you, you'll get your call. If we don't arrest you, you can make all the calls you want."
Meredith's already pale skin became more ashen and her breath caught. "Arrest me?"
"I hope that won't be necessary," he said. "But there are several things I'm concerned about."
Meredith's eyes darted around the room and she fixed her gaze on the door. As if hoping someone would come to rescue her. "Like what?"
"Before we begin, I need to read you your rights, and make sure you know that this interview is being recorded," Connor said. He recited the Miranda warning, and turned on the recorder. "First question, Ms. Pullen. It's about that pendant. Where did you get it?"
Her hand closed around the piece of jewelry and her knuckles whitened. "It was a gift."
"From whom?"
She looked away. Stared at the large mirror on the wall. Of course she knew there were other people watching. "Peter," she finally said, her voice almost a whisper. "For our anniversary."
"Anniversary of what?"
"Of dating." Her voice was so low he could barely hear her."
"How long have you been dating Mr. Northrup?"
A faint flush colored her cheeks. "Nine months."
So he'd been right. Northrup had been screwing around on Genie three months before she was killed. "And when did he give you the pendant?"
"Three months ago."
He marked something down in the folder, as if he was taking notes. "I understand you were the one who supplied Mr. Northrup with his alibi the night his wife was killed."
She licked her lips and her eyes darted to the folder. "Yes. We were together. Working."
"Tell me about that."
A half-hour later, Connor switched off the recorder and stood up. He gave Bellstair a subtle signal, waited a moment, then opened the door. "Officer," he said to the cop, "put Ms. Pullen in holding, please."
Bellstair nodded and took her elbow to help her rise. "You want me to cuff her, sir?" he asked.
Connor looked at Meredith. Tears streamed down her face and dripped onto her neck. She'd wrapped her arms around herself, and her hands shook where they pressed into her sides. "I don't think that's necessary. You won't give Officer Bellstair any trouble, will you, Ms. Pullen?"
She shook her head violently. "No," she said, her voice wet and weak.
Connor waited until Bellstair had disappeared with Meredith, then headed back to his desk. Raine sat in his chair, his pens lined up in a row on his desktop. She'd woven his paperclips into a chain, and rearranged all his pictures.
His heart lightened. "Looks like you've been busy."
She glanced up at him. "Didn't want you to think I'd neglected my snooping." She leaned to the side to look behind him. "Where is Meredith?"
"She's sitting in holding." He plopped down on the corner of his desk and held up an evidence bag. "She voluntarily surrendered the jewelry for examination by Tiffany's. And it took about ten minutes to break Northrup's alibi. They'd worked until about ten. He took Meredith home, then told her he remembered some paperwork he needed to file that night. He got back to her house around one-thirty."
"So he doesn't have an alibi for the time Genie was killed."
"No. He doesn't." He reached for her hand. "I asked one of the other detectives to get a warrant for Northrup's arrest. And I'm going to ask for no bail."
"It's over," she breathed.
"Not yet. We need to put him in a cell first. Then we need to try him. But with any luck, he'll be off the street and unable to hurt you." He held out his hand. "Ready to go home?"
She put her hand in his, stood up and threw her arms around him. "Yes," she whispered. "Let's go home."
Chapter 28
The next afternoon, as they got closer to Connor's mother's house, Raine slid her sweaty palms beneath her thighs. Her blue and white sundress suddenly felt wrong. Was it too casual? Too sexy? Too short? It was knee length, but her grandmother would have looked at it and given a disapproving sniff.
She rolled her shoulders, and the spaghetti straps tightened on her skin. Not everyone was like Beatrice. Connor wouldn't have brought her with him if he thought his mother would be judgmental or critical.
She trusted him not to hurt her. Trusted him to watch out for her. She sucked in a deep breath, let it out as she told herself to relax. Connor had her back.
She could do this.
He turned onto a street in the Beverly neighborhood lined with bungalows. Large maple trees lined the parkway, and a bunch of the houses had children's bikes and tricycles parked in the front yard. Several people sitting on their front steps waved at Connor as he drove by.
They pulled to the curb in front of one of the bungalows. It was dark brick, like most of the others on the block, and had blinds in the windows. As she stared at it, Connor touched her arm. "Don't worry, they're going to love you."
She didn't look at him as she said, "Maybe. Maybe not. After all, I'm putting you in the line of fire."
He turned her to face him. "Babe. Four of us are police officers, and Mac is an FBI agent. Being in the line of fire is our job. So no one's going to hate you because I'm doing my job. Okay?"
She managed a small nod. She'd never 'met the family' of a guy she'd dated. Never really wanted to. She'd dated a handful of guys, some longer than others, bu
t she'd never had the kind of relationship she had with Connor.
Whatever kind of relationship this was.
Clutching the bottle of wine she'd brought, she opened the car door and stepped onto the sidewalk. It was the kind of perfect summer day that came rarely in Chicago – mild temperatures and low humidity. The wind whipped her skirt around her thighs, and she tugged it down. Then Connor took her hand and led her up the steps.
Holding the wine to her chest with one hand, she clung to him with the other, taking deep breaths as they reached the front door. He opened it up and drew her inside.
The living room held a couch and a loveseat, both denim-colored. A practical fabric when there were lots of kids, but his mother had brightened it with throw pillows in brilliant reds, yellows and greens along its length. An old, well-used recliner sat in one corner. The dark gray material had a slight depression in the center of the cushion, and the fabric was frayed at the edge, as if lots of people had relaxed on that chair.
The blinds on the windows were open, and sunlight slanted in, painting stripes on the faded Oriental carpet covering the hardwood floors. An oak coffee table sat in front of the couch, and a matching end table nestled between the couch and loveseat.
The room was about as different from her grandmother's living room as it could be. The living room at the house in Oakwood was formal and cold. The artwork and fabric covering the uncomfortable furniture was beautiful, and everything there was polished and shiny. Sharp enough to slice through a little girl's hand if she tried to touch anything.
This room made Raine want to curl into the couch with a movie and a bowl of popcorn. Or ease back in the recliner with a book..
As they walked toward the dining room, a short, dark-haired woman hurried toward them. She grabbed Connor and hugged him tight, kissing his cheek with an audible smack. She held him away from her, and said, "You look good, Connor. Happy."
A flush crept up Raine's neck into her face. She knew why Connor looked so happy. After they'd gotten home from the precinct and he'd installed her new lock, they'd headed into her bedroom so she could change her clothes. Connor had helped. It had taken far longer than usual.
Trust Me (The Donovan Family Book 4) Page 25
