Internal Affair

by Marie Ferrarella

  As if to show him, she took his hand and placed it over her heart.

  Maggie looked up into his eyes. Her pulse quickened, her loins ached.

  Time stood perfectly still.

  It was incredible. The woman was the last word in independence, in whatever the female version of macho was, and yet, right now, as he touched her, she felt delicate, frail.

  His eyes held hers, knowing he should stop it here before it went any further.

  Not that he didn’t want to.

  The fissures in the walls around his resolve doubled in size, widened until there was nothing to hold the dam back.

  Patrick brought his mouth down to hers again. When she leaned her body into his, he knew there was no turning back.

  Caution and clothing went flying, tossed to the winds on an impulse that had been waiting in the wings from the very first, waiting for the right unguarded moment. And it had arrived.

  Restraint was a byword with him. Every movement he’d ever orchestrated had been carefully thought out, viewed from both sides, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly, but always examined.

  Until now.

  Now he wasn’t thinking. He was feeling, reacting. Wanting. There was something about this woman that got to him, that intoxicated him beyond logic and negated any good judgment he had. He’d unconsciously felt it from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her. His sense of survival had urged him to try to get her replaced, to push her away. But everything had failed.

  And now there was no turning back.

  He was glad.

  Glad because she tasted like heaven and heaven had seemed like such a faraway place. It had never been anything he’d ever encountered. But she tasted of the promise of heaven and salvation and he wanted both more than he could say.

  Maggi yanked the pullover he’d had on, dragging it off his torso and arms and pitching it carelessly aside. She had no idea where because all her attention was riveted to working the jeans off his hips. The black briefs he wore went down with them. He kicked them aside, his body cleaving to hers. He’d already made short work of her sweater and jeans before she’d ever started on his garments.

  That left them both nude. Except for the hardware. A by-product of being on the force.

  A mischievous smile played on her lips as she looked at him. Now there was a sexy shot. “Your weapon, Cavanaugh.”

  He glanced down. “Oh, you mean my gun.”

  Kneeling, he quickly removed it, then looked up at her with a grin that she found bone-scrapingly sexy. She wanted him more than she’d thought possible. She tried to chalk it up to abstinence, but knew she was lying to herself. It wasn’t the lack of it that made her want to make love, it was the man.

  The look in his eyes went right through her. “Since I’m already down here, let me do yours.”

  Maggi felt as if someone had struck a match and thrown it at her as she nodded.

  Patrick unstrapped the holster from her thigh, slipping the leather from her. He carefully placed her secondary weapon beside his own, away from the field of play.

  She expected him to rise. He remained where he was, his hands lightly resting on either side of her hips. Maggi felt herself begin to throb even as she moistened.

  The next second she was digging her hands into his hair as he opened up gates leading to an ecstasy she’d never experienced before. Lines of flames shot through her like wildfire as she felt his tongue anointing the tender flesh between her legs. And then he was thrusting it in and out, causing shock waves to oscillate all through her.

  She reached a climax before she fully realized what he was doing.

  Clutching at his shoulder, Maggi dragged him back up to her level. “You don’t play fair,” she breathed.

  “I don’t ‘play’ at all.”

  He sealed his mouth to hers.

  Damn it, he shouldn’t want her this way, shouldn’t surrender control over his actions to this formless thing that demanded fulfillment. But logic had no place here. Only desire.

  The imprint of her body against his as he pressed her to him made him wild. He’d been hoping that once he knew he could have her, whatever he was grappling with would dissipate, go away. Not grow.

  And yet it did.

  With every kiss, every movement, the passion grew until it threatened to consume him completely. He should have taken her in his bedroom. He took her on the living room floor instead, beside a tree he’d never wanted, lit with lights he’d never asked for.

  Kissing her until she was little more than pulsating flesh that twisted and writhed beneath him, he grasped her hands and held them above her head. He took her mouth, savaging it with kisses as he drove himself into her.

  The soft sound that escaped her lips filled him with a sweetness. It drove the savagery away.

  He stopped for a moment, looking down at her, not knowing what to think, not wanting to think at all.

  Watching her eyes, he moved slower, then faster, until he wasn’t conscious of making any effort at all. The effort made him. The moment made him. And he raced to embrace it. With her.

  Chapter 16

  Utterly exhausted, Patrick shifted his weight off Maggi. He felt as if he barely had the strength left for even that. The woman had completely drained him.

  Who would have thought?

  “If I’d known that was part of the tree-trimming ceremony, I might have gotten a Christmas tree a long time ago,” he said.

  In response to his carefully measured out words, he heard her laughing. Felt the sound bubbling up within her as her body moved against his.

  He’d never known that listening to laughter could feel so good. So sexy.

  Without thinking, he gathered her closer to him. “You find that funny?”

  Maggi planted an elbow on his chest and raised herself up to look at him. A curtain of blond hair swept along his skin, tightening his gut. Laughter seemed to radiate from every part of her.

  “I can’t believe we just did this.”

  Neither could he.

  Nor could he believe that he wanted her again. Just looking at her made his body hum, his cravings multiply. Why wasn’t he sated? They’d just made love for longer than he could ever remember doing it. He should have been more than satisfied and on his way to being over whatever it was that kept drawing him to her.

  What the hell was wrong with him? Why was she affecting him this way?

  There was no answer to his question. Logic had left on winged feet.

  “Then I guess we’ll just have to review the evidence.” Patrick cupped the back of her head with his hand and brought her mouth down to his.

  This time, she was ready for it, braced, knowing that the wild ride ahead was going to sap her strength and send her mind reeling. This time, she wanted not to be alone in that first car on the roller coaster as it plunged and climbed its way ever faster over the slopes and peaks.

  She kissed him back, long, hard. Sensuously.

  The ride began slower, and by the time it was over, had brought the blood rushing through their veins to a new fever pitch.

  Whatever he did, she did him one better, until by the end, Maggi knew his body better than he did. And in her heart, she had a feeling that he knew hers far better than she ever could. He had found pulse points she hadn’t known existed, sent her flying almost out of control with a pass of his hand, with the lightest trace of his lips.

  Nothing was sacred, nothing overlooked. Knees, elbows, fingertips, not to mention the soft, sensitive flesh in areas designed for lovemaking and ecstasy.

  She sought out his secret places, determined to render him almost mindless with desire and pleasure, the way he had her. And when he moaned, she knew she had him. The thrill she felt increased a hundredfold.

  He’d had his share of sexual encounters, but this, this was something new, something he hadn’t realized was out there. This didn’t just bring with it the burst of a crescendo at the end. This brought something much more with it.

  It brou
ght feelings, and with them a sense of protectiveness that he neither wanted nor knew what to do with.

  But there was more.

  Making love with her released something inside of him. It was formless, without a name, but moved over him like a low-lying fog, claiming him, obliterating his senses.

  He felt he was entering a dark alley with only one path of retreat and that was behind him. What was in front was an unknown. He had no idea where to point his weapon, how to protect himself. The uneasy feeling that he was being taken prisoner without being able to defend himself was all too real.

  Lacing his fingers through hers, he suddenly switched places with Maggi and, as he watched her, drove himself into her. He saw a host of emotions wash over her face. The same kind that he felt echoing within his own chest.

  It scared the hell out of him.

  And then there was no time for thought, no time for fear. There was only the race to the final place, the one that released volleys of lights and made everything else insignificant.

  When it came to claim him, he felt her arch her back, driving her hips up to his and knew that she had reached a climax with him.

  The quest for oxygen commanded his full attention.

  Maggi slid off his slick body, her own body damp with the dew of lovemaking. She hardly had the strength to lift her head. He’d taken everything out of her and she had valiantly tried to do the same to him.

  She could only hope she had succeeded in some small measure.

  But as the euphoria receded into the shades, the reality that came in its wake dragged out questions that were quick to assault her. What the hell was she doing here, making love with a man she was supposed to be investigating?

  Had she lost her mind?

  The simple answer was yes, but that didn’t negate what she had to do—leave as soon as possible.

  She felt cold suddenly. “I think I should be going. Just as soon as I find my legs,” she qualified.

  He didn’t want her to leave. Didn’t want her to move a muscle. His arm tightened around her without any thought on his part.

  “They have to be around here somewhere. I know I saw you come in with them.”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her she could stay. To ask her if she would stay. But the very fact that he wanted her to chased the words away from his lips. This couldn’t go any further than it had already gone and if she stayed, it would. He knew it would.

  Pivoting herself on her palms, her arms still bracketing him, Maggi glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, there they are.”

  She was trying desperately to be flippant, but every word she uttered took effort. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this drained. Or this happy, as if her whole body was humming a tune.

  Dangerous, this is dangerous, not to mention unethical. Damn it, Mag, what were you thinking?

  She wished her mind would shut up and let her enjoy the moment, but she knew it wouldn’t. She was too disciplined for that.

  Where the hell had her discipline been a few minutes ago?

  Struggling for control of the situation, Maggi pushed herself off. She reached for her clothes, wishing she had something to wrap around herself other than her dignity, which had serious holes in it right now.

  Still she did what she could. Rising, she held her clothes against her and looked down at him, forcing a smug smile she didn’t feel to her lips.

  “Well, my work here is done.” Patrick was still lying on the floor, watching her. Maggi found it difficult not to let her gaze roam. He had one hell of a magnificent body. “Bathroom?”

  “Through there.” He pointed to the left.

  “Thank you,” she mustered with as much regal control as she could. With that, she withdrew.

  He couldn’t tear his eyes away. The M.E. was right, he thought. She made one hell of an exit.

  Maggi was the first one to arrive in the squad room the next day. After she’d left Patrick’s house, she knew there was no way she was going to fall asleep so she’d stayed up writing a formal report to Halliday, detailing her findings.

  One thing she knew for certain: The man was one hell of a lover. The only time she smiled was when she tried to envision the expression on Halliday’s face if he read that line.

  Sleep had all but eluded her entirely. Every time she would almost drift off, her brain would intrude. There was no denying that she’d broken more rules than she could count and severely compromised herself and the operation. Moreover, she’d tainted any testimony she might offer on Patrick’s behalf.

  How the hell could she have slept with him?

  How could she not? something within her whispered. That had to be the best time she’d ever had with or without her clothes on.

  Her mind not on the report on the screen, Maggi stared away. Too bad last night didn’t mean anything. At least, not to him.

  Not to her, either, she insisted.

  The silent argument continued to ricochet back and forth in her brain. Neither side won points.

  The moment Patrick walked in, she was on her feet, crossing to him as if she was an arrow shot from a bow. “I need to talk to you.”

  He looked at her, not quite certain what to expect. Once dressed, she’d bolted out of his house so quickly last night, he was sure she must have broken some kind of speed record. He’d wanted to call her back. Drag her back. But common sense had finally prevailed and kept him where he was.

  He’d slept poorly, dreaming of her. She’d be there one minute, gone the next and he’d spend the rest of the dream looking for her. Over and over again. He had no idea what it meant, only that he shouldn’t have let last night happen.

  There was an expression on her face now he couldn’t fathom. He hated being in the dark.

  “Okay.” He followed Maggi to the coffee area. There were others in the squad room, but they were all in their cubicles, working. Still he lowered his voice before asking, “What’s up?”

  Maggi took a breath before answering. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about last night.”

  His expression gave nothing away. “And what would be the wrong idea?”

  “That it was about something.” She thought she saw someone coming their way and paused, but the detective walked out. “It was just sex, pure and simple.”

  He thought of last night. He’d never known the human body could bend like that. She’d left him in awe. “There was nothing pure about it.”

  “What I mean is that there’re no strings, no consequences.”

  Did she make love like that to every man? An unaccountable jealousy slashed through him before he regained control over himself.

  “Aren’t there?”

  “No.” Why did Cavanaugh look so annoyed? “I thought you’d be happy. Isn’t that what all men want? No consequences?”

  Until the second she’d uttered the words, he would have said yes. Would have thought that was what he wanted. But now that she was acting so cavalier about it, he felt his pride wounded.

  “Don’t presume to know what I want, or lump me in with everyone else.”

  “I didn’t. I don’t.” She tried to find high ground as everything sank around her. “It’s just that I didn’t want you to think there was anything going on.”

  “I don’t think that.”

  A tiny salvo of regret lodged itself in her chest. Isn’t this what you want? What’s wrong now? “Good.”

  “Fine,” he snapped. “Are we done with this conversation?”

  “Completely.” Her voice rose. Two could play this game. “Time’s up. Nickel’s been used.”

  He frowned. “If you ask me, your brain’s been used and whoever used it forgot to put it back.”

  About to utter an equally mindless retort, she stopped herself and looked at him. “Are you angry with me for some reason?”

  “Angry?” Yanking his mug to him, Patrick poured himself a cup of coffee. Even as he did so, he knew he was going to regret it. The coffee here could be used to retar worn-out r
oads. He glared at Maggi. “Why would I be angry with someone who insists on telling me she knows what I’m thinking?”

  Without thinking, Maggi poured a cup for herself. Even as she did, she felt her stomach tightening in protest. “I wasn’t insisting.”

  He laughed shortly. “Obviously you weren’t on this side of the conversation.”

  She glared at him. He was such an ass. Why had she thought there were any feelings there? She wouldn’t go to bed with him again if he were the last man on earth. In the galaxy.

  “No, I was on the ‘done’ side.” She closed her eyes, running her hand along her forehead. There were little men clog dancing inside her head. “You’re giving me a headache.”

  He set his mug down, last night returning to him in spades. He could feel his body responding and struggled to keep his thoughts in check. He only half succeeded. “You know the best thing for a headache?”

  She raised her eyes to his and guessed at his answer, “A swift execution?”

  She wasn’t prepared to see the smile. Wasn’t prepared for the way it went straight to her gut and unraveled her. “Hair of the dog that bit you.”

  “That’s for a hangover.”

  His eyes shone as they washed over her. “Same principle.” And then a stony expression took over his face as he saw the wary look come into her eyes. “Don’t worry, Mary Margaret, I’m not about to jump your bones anytime the whim hits.”

  As if he could if she didn’t want him to. But that was just the trouble. Even with all the obstacles she put in her way, even though she knew it was wrong, she still wanted him to. “I’m not worried about that.”

  He looked at her, puzzled. “Then what?”

  She was worried about what he’d stirred up. About the way she’d compromised herself. And about the fact that she wanted to do it all again, every teeth-jarring second of it.

  “Nothing,” she bit off. Coffee in hand, she retreated to her desk on legs that were more than a little shaky.

  What would Patrick say if he knew that he’d spent last night making love to someone whose primary function was not to be his partner, but to spy on him? Whose very existence in his life was a lie? At the very least, he would have felt betrayed and she couldn’t blame him at all.