by Pamela Clare
His gaze shifted to her face, but she seemed to be engrossed in a study of her hands. She’d pinned her hair up in one of those casual dos, exposing the slim, vulnerable line of her nape. He placed a hand over hers and her gaze flew to his face.
“I’ll look into it,” he heard himself say.
“Thank you.”
Two words. A simple thank you. But there was nothing simple about the charge of emotion that rocketed through him as their gazes met, clung.
How far down the road was he prepared to go? Is that what he’d just asked himself? God help him, maybe he’d already passed the point of no return. Dragging his gaze away, he gunned the motor, put the car in gear and reversed out of the parking space.
*
The ride back to her place was accomplished in silence. Occasionally, Suzannah stole glances at John. In profile, his face looked dark, hard, remote. But for a few seconds—seconds which had stretched out like eons—she’d seen the stark need in his eyes, as deep and frightening and inescapable as her own.
The time had come.
Her heart took a leaping bound in her chest at the realization. The balance had been slowly shifting over these past weeks, bringing her to this moment. The moment when the need to have this man, to possess and be possessed by him, outweighed the fear.
*
Bandy greeted them ecstatically at the door, his stout body waggling with the swishing of his tail. Suzannah bent to bestow an enthusiastic petting before Bandy decided he had to demand it.
“You be okay for a few minutes if I take him out for a spin around the block?”
She straightened to see John standing there with Bandy’s leash. He’d ditched his jacket and tie and rolled up the sleeves of his hopelessly creased shirt to reveal strong, tanned forearms. Patience, Suz.
“Of course. I’ve got some calls to make. Vince made me promise to call when I got home.”
He bent to clip the lead on Bandy’s collar. “Lock up after me, and arm the alarm,” he instructed, using that authoritative tone she suspected they must teach in the academy. “I don’t want to hear any protests about it being broad daylight, either.”
“Don’t worry. I may be stubborn, but I’m not stupid. I’ve just seen what can happen in broad daylight.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw. “I won’t be twenty minutes.”
Suzannah locked up behind him as instructed, then called Vince. He’d been shaken when she’d called him from the hospital to explain why she’d gone AWOL. She’d had to be very forceful to prevent him canceling his afternoon examination for discovery and rushing to the ER. Her assurance that John was with her now and would continue to stay with her until this lunatic was caught seemed to go a long way to calming him down.
Once Vince was settled down, she called her mother. Thankfully, Elena Phelps hadn’t heard about her daughter’s visit to the ER, and she wasn’t about to hear it from Suzannah. Rather, they talked about the party Elena was planning to host for her closest friend’s fifty-fifth birthday.
Hearing John and Bandy return, Suzannah wound up the conversation with her mother. John was carrying a takeout bag from the local sub place.
“Hope you’re hungry,” he said, handing her the bag.
They sat down and ate their subs at the table under Bandy’s wistful gaze. Her stomach was in such a knot that she couldn’t manage much more than a quarter of the foot-long sandwich, but she noticed John had no trouble downing his. Afterward, Suzannah cleared away the remains of their meal while John put down food and fresh water for Bandy.
“So, what’s on for tonight?” he asked.
Us, I hope. Her pulse took a little jump. “Nothing.”
He shot her a look. “Thought you had a rush job for Castillo.”
She grimaced. “The clock’s still ticking on that one, but I told Vince it’d have to wait. I just couldn’t see getting my head into a corporate re-org after the day I’ve had.”
“I can understand that. Why don’t you make an early night of it?” He picked up the TV remote from the coffee table and flopped down on her couch. “I’m sure I can find a ball game.”
As her heart thundered in her chest, he calmly pointed the remote at the television, which sprang to noisy life. He adjusted the volume downward, flipped to the sports network.
Dammit, this was supposed to be easier. She’d imagined them sinking on the couch together, possibly him sliding an arm around her. Even she could have taken it from there. Instead, he seemed to be doing his damndest to get her out of the room.
She wet her lips. “I’d rather do what we did last night, but without the stopping part.”
The remote control clattered to the floor. Cursing, he leaned over to pick it up, depositing it on the coffee table again. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
She’d been prepared for any number of reactions, but not this one. He’d all but promised her endless kisses, endless sweetness. “Why not?”
“Why not? Suzannah, someone slipped you a colossal dose of Rohypnol just hours ago.”
What did that have to do with anything? “Thank you for reminding me, but they emptied my stomach.”
“Not before it went to work on you.” He picked up the remote again, this time to kill the drone of the TV. “Rohypnol is a powerful intoxicant, a profound disinhibitor. I just don’t think it’s smart to –”
Understanding came on a wave of anger. “Oh, no, you don’t.”
“Huh?”
“You don’t get to use impairment as an out. They gave me an antagonist in the ER.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Which in English means…?”
“Something to counter the Rohypnol. The worst that can happen is I might get sleepy when the antagonist wears off.”
“Okay, but it’s still been a helluva day. You had a scary experience –”
Her eyes narrowed. “Go to hell.”
“Excuse me?”
“That’s another cop out, and you know it.”
“Like hell it is.” He surged to his feet, the sudden movement eliciting a low growl from the dog.
“You think cops are the only people who know what an adrenaline burst is?” She fisted her hands at her sides to keep them from trembling. “What do you think it’s like to cross-examine a witness before a jury when a man’s fate hangs in the balance? What do imagine is happening inside when I’m sitting there trying to look composed while the jury is filing back into the courtroom? What in hell do you think is coursing through my veins when the foreman stands up to read his verdict?”
“Suzannah –”
“Forget it. I know what you think runs through my veins.” She laughed harshly. “I’m the Ice Princess, right?”
“If you’d just shut up for a minute –”
“The truth is you’re scared. Scared of me. Scared you don’t have what it takes to melt –”
*
Quigg silenced her the only way he knew how—by grabbing her and covering her mouth with his. He felt her shock in the stiffness of her body as he held her head fast and kissed her the way he’d been dying to kiss her since last night. Then he felt something else.
Teeth. Pointy ones. Biting into his ankle.
“Ow!” He broke away from her, knowing it was the only way the damned dog would stand down. “Stupid mongrel.” He bent to catch Bandy’s collar.
“Don’t hurt him.”
“I’m not going to hurt the mutt. I’m just gonna lock him in the kitchen. I don’t intend to have him gnawing on my leg while I’m making love to you.”
She was still standing where he’d left her, a hand pressed to her mouth, when he came back from securing the dog.
“Now, where were we?”
She dropped her hand. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Have to is not the way I’d characterize it.”
“I goaded you.” Her words coming out in a rush. “I’m sorry. I know you’re not scared of me. Not scared of anything. I was just angry. You don’
t have to prove a thing.”
Scared? Hell, he was petrified, but not for the reasons she thought. He was scared there’d be no pulling back after this. One taste would never be enough. He put those thoughts aside. “You’re right there. I don’t have anything to prove.”
He took her hand, the one she’d touched to her mouth, and pulled her closer. Her eyes widened, and he could see a pulse leaping at the base of her neck.
“So you can go back to your baseball game,” she breathed.
“Not in a million years.” He stroked the inside of her wrist, watching her pupils dilate.
“Okay, I’m scared,” she confessed.
He smiled then. “Oh, ye of little faith. Did I show you nothing last night?”
“We don’t have any condoms.”
His smile broadened. “Yes, we do. Or rather, I do.”
“How very forward-looking of you.”
He didn’t mistake her testiness for anything more than it was, an expression of her fear. “Sweetheart, I’ve had it bad for you since you stood up two years ago and tried to shred the case I’d spent months building. You think I’d move in under the same roof with you and not bring condoms?”
“Remy Rosneau,” she murmured. “I lost that at trial.”
“And had the conviction overturned on appeal, despite the fact I know the guy touched that girl.”
She bristled. “I notice the Crown didn’t take it to the Supreme Court.”
“I didn’t say you didn’t earn the reversal on technical merits, I said he was guilty as hell. Now, are we gonna stand around talking about this all night or are you gonna let me kiss you again?”
He had the satisfaction of hearing her breath hitch as he pulled her close again.
“Two years?” she asked.
“Two years.”
The confirmation was breathed against her lips, which parted softly, giving him the merest taste of her. It was part familiar comfort, part exotic mystery. Part sunshine, part sin. And one hundred percent, full-moon-howling sexy.
He pulled back a fraction, wanting to look his fill of that glorious mouth before he tasted it again, but she clutched at his shirt front, pulling herself up on tiptoe to preserve the contact. He got the message. More. Now.
Lightheaded, he stroked her parted lips with his tongue, lingering on the sensitive tissue just inside her lower lip. From last night’s petting session on the couch, he knew she liked that, liked the long, slow prelude to a deeper, more intimate mating of tongues. Suddenly, he wanted to give her that slow, sensual trip. He wanted to carefully stoke her desire, make her dizzy with pleasure. Digging deep, he ordered his thundering heart to slow. You can do this. You can be as patient as she needs you to be.
Then she released his shirt front and slid her hands up to grip his head, kissing him back, pressing her breasts against his chest like she couldn’t get close enough. In that millisecond, his good intentions were blasted away by a tidal wave of urgency.
He tugged the tail of her blouse out of her skirt and pushed his hands under the fine material to sweep across her back. Lord, she felt good, like satin. Warm, smooth, soft. He let his hands roam lower, gently squeezing the sweet curve of her butt under the taut fabric of her little skirt. That brought a harsh sob to her lips. The low, sexy sound nearly ripped the lid off what remained of his self-control.
Pushing her backwards, he guided her to the couch. She went down, pulling him with her, onto her. Her body was warm, solid, and impossibly exciting beneath his. Way too exciting. Damn, he had to slow this down.
He pulled back slightly, which she took as license to tug his shirt free, her fingers fumbling with the buttons as she worked them loose. Then her hands were skimming his chest, sliding around to clutch at his back.
“Now, John.” She arched against him, her body moving restlessly against his arousal.
He groaned. “Not yet, baby.”
“Yes, now.” Her hands went to his belt, undoing it. “I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to start analyzing everything. Please. I’m ready now.”
He gritted his teeth against a surge of desire that threatened to swamp him. “Maybe,” he managed, “but I’m not.”
At his words, he felt her go still. Oh, hell. She thought he wasn’t ready ready, as if she wasn’t sexy enough to make him instantly hard. As if he hadn’t been ready forever. “I mean, I am ready. So ready, I can hardly stand it. But the condoms … they’re upstairs. We have to go up there.”
He pulled back to look at her. Her pupils were dilated with desire still, but he also saw trepidation there. Cripes, did she seriously think this desperate, clawing need was going to go away if they pressed pause long enough to get to the bedroom?
Maybe it would, for her.
The thought whispered through his mind, just loud enough to make itself heard over the pounding of his pulse. To be on the safe side—God, it would kill him if she changed her mind now!—he decided not to give her a chance to lose the buzz.
He levered himself off the couch. “C’mere, baby.”
She accepted his hand. As soon as she came to her feet, he pulled her into his arms. More mind-melting kisses. More slipping and sliding of material as he worked his hands over her body with increasing urgency. Finally, he brought his hands around to her shirt front. Making quick work of her buttons, he pushed the fabric aside to expose her small breasts cupped in impossibly delicate white lace. He put a few inches’ distance between them so he could properly appreciate the view.
“Beautiful.”
The word emerged as little more than a croak, but it seemed to work for her. Or maybe it was the stark desire in his eyes that he made no attempt to hide. Whatever the reason, she closed her eyes, arching her body in silent supplication. Touch them, her posture implored. Touch me.
He did, running the very tips of his fingers lightly over the gentle swell of flesh above her bra. When she moaned for more, he cupped her breasts fully, rasping his thumbs over her tautened nipples.
She came at him then, her mouth seeking his, her hands roaming his back. Minutes later, he pulled away, his pulse thundering as though he’d just run a rabbiting suspect to ground, and led her to the base of the stairs.
“You first,” he said. “I want to watch that sweet a … um, skirt of yours all the way up.”
“John!”
So, she hadn’t lost the power of speech altogether. He grinned. “Okay, I’ll go first. But try to control yourself.”
At the first landing, he stopped. “Okay, you’re doing way too good a job controlling yourself.” She laughed, but the sound died when he pressed his lips to hers. He pressed his body to hers, too, pinning her against the wall. With hands that were embarrassingly close to shaking, he raked her skirt up so he could caress the sensitive mounds of her buttocks through one less layer of clothing. She gasped, another one of those crazy-making, sexy sounds, and suddenly he forgot he was doing this for her. When he slid a hand between her silk-encased thighs to cup her intimately, it was all for him.
Oh, Lord, she was hot. Even through her underwear, he could feel her moist heat. Hiking her skirt up further, he dropped to his knees and pressed his mouth to her silk covered sex. She made a shocked, strangled noise, and for a heartbeat, he thought she might push him away. She twined her fingers into his hair, but not, he realized, with the intent of stopping him. She was just hanging on, her whole body trembling like an aspen in the breeze. He stood, dragging her quickly up the rest of the stairs. At the top, he paused.
“Your place or mine?” he asked. “Bear in mind, the condoms are in my room.”
“Your room.”
Clothes started to come off as soon as they hit the bedroom. Fingers fumbled, hands trembled as they helped each other out of their clothes until they stood naked beside the bed.
Sweet heaven, she was beautiful. Her breasts were even better than he’d imagined, and he’d spent some considerable time imagining them. The areola were small and surprisingly dark against her p
ale skin. Her nipples, tightened with arousal, jutted out in frank, silent invitation. The need to push her down and cover the slim, toned length of her body with his screamed in his blood. But first, he owed her the words.
He pulled long strands of blonde hair, which had long since come out of its fastener, forward to frame her breasts. “You are so incredibly beautiful,” he breathed.
“I don’t want you to be disappointed.”
He blinked. How could she still think along those lines? “Are you planning to change your mind?”
Her breasts lifted on a deep breath. “No.”
“Then it’s not even a possibility.”
“I never know where to put things.”
“Where to put things?”
“You know, elbows, knees.”
He smiled. He couldn’t help it. “Darlin’, long as your arms are around me, everything’ll be where it’s supposed to be.”
Before she could obsess any further about it, he guided her down onto the bed. She scooted to the middle with an alacrity that betrayed her nervousness. Thank God he hadn’t let her entertain a single lucid thought on the way upstairs or she’d be a basket case.
On the other hand, it was no hardship distracting her from her anxiety. Following her down onto the bed, he used his mouth and hands and all the patience he could summon to bring her to a fever pitch again.
When she cried “Now!” again, he obeyed. Taking a condom from the night stand, he tore the wrapper off and sheathed himself smoothly. Her arms came around him in welcome as he settled between her parted thighs. Despite her readiness, he felt tension grip her again. Oh, baby, please don’t leave me now.
He covered her mouth again, kissing her, long and hot and deep until she writhed under him again. Then, urging her legs wider, he slid home with a strong, controlled thrust.
Dear Lord, she was so tight! The only thing that would feel better than being buried in her silken heat would be to pull out and do it again. And again. And again. Fast and hard as a piston. Somehow he found the strength to hold his hips still as he looked down into her face. Her eyes were closed, and she’d caught her lower lip between her teeth.
