Heat of the Night

by Donna Kauffman

  Erin knew she should shift away, turn her head. She'd read the intent in his eyes the moment they'd both lost track of the wine. And yet she remained anchored to the spot, heedless of the fact that the spot was growing increasingly damp.

  His eyes were dark with want. And what he wanted was her. The hell with the wine-soaked carpet. Hadn't this been exactly where she'd hoped this was headed?

  His lips touched hers. Warm, confident, demanding. He cupped her face and turned her head so he could take the kiss deeper. Her body responded like a live wire, and she realized instantly that this would not be a simple releasing of tension.

  This was… Dear God, she had no idea what this was, only that she wanted it more than she wanted her next breath.

  "Erin."

  His voice was even deeper, rougher. He pushed his tongue into her mouth, dueled with hers, taunted her into responding. And respond she did. He continued to push her, yet pull her in more deeply.

  She grew achingly aware that her bed was mere steps away. She could have more of this. More of him. More of…everything.

  His hands moved down her arms and he shifted his lips from her mouth to work his magic along her jaw and down to the tender spot on her neck, just below her ear. And now that her mouth was free, there was nothing to muffle the moans that pushed up from somewhere deep inside her.

  He settled his wide hands on her hips and tugged her forward. As soon as her hips bumped between his, she felt just how much he wanted her. Very badly. Her inner thighs tightened against the instant ache that sweet pressure created. The need to take, demand, have, filled her so swiftly she couldn't think clearly.

  This was out of control. She should be worrying about that, thinking about the ramifications, deciding if she should pursue or retreat. But right at that moment she was about two seconds and a slight shift of the hard bulge pressing insistently between her legs away from climaxing. Her body overruled any danger signals her brain sent out.

  "Brady." It was a rough plea, a demand.

  And then that tantalizing pressure was gone and he was pulling her up. Her head swam, she was so dizzy with need. "What—"

  "I'm not doing this in a puddle of white wine." His voice was strained, rough.

  "But—"

  He tugged her to him as they both struggled to stand. She opened her mouth to— She had no idea. Thankfully, she was spared figuring it out when that incredible pressure found its way to the juncture of her legs once again.

  "Hold on," he commanded.

  "Thank God."

  He lifted her up. "Wrap your legs around me." He was already shifting them there even as he made his way toward her bedroom.

  She locked her heels behind him, then groaned. Loudly. That one extra inch of snugness put her right on the edge. "Brady. Brady, please." She clamped her heels more tightly and started to tremble she was so close. "I just need—"

  "I know, I know." He staggered into her room and they both tumbled across her bed. Hands moved in a tangle as they fought with their clothes. Both of them were swearing by the time they managed to yank everything off. They all but dived back at each other. Somewhere in her mind she thought about slowing down so she could run her hands over him, look at him, enjoy him. Later, she promised herself. Much later.

  Brady pulled her under him, his dark eyes wild with want. Erin thrilled at the sight. Maybe she'd known it would be like this with him, primal, insistent, demanding. Maybe that was what had made her bold enough to present him with her plan in the first place. He would give and he would take and there would be nothing left over when they were done. Wasn't that what release was all about?

  He shifted between her legs and she was already arching off the bed to reach him. He brushed against her and she bit back a scream as her muscles clenched painfully tight. "I'm—so—close," she ground out.

  "Yeah." He was panting. "I know. Jesus, do I know." Then his expression went painfully tight.

  Somewhere in her fevered brain she registered this was not a good sign, but it was really hard to tell her body to stop all its arching and seeking. "What?" she demanded breathlessly. "Dammit, what's wrong?"

  He laughed harshly. "Always…bossy."

  She wanted to laugh. Next time they'd laugh. And be playful and take their time. Dear God, she might not survive to the next time if he didn't Do Something Right Now.

  "Protection," he managed to say, sweat beading his forehead.

  His expression was so fierce, so…perfect, it took her a moment to realize what he was saying. "Oh. It's okay."

  "Sure?"

  Her hips bumped up again. He brushed against her again. She almost whimpered. So close. "Trust me," she forced out.

  He grinned then, his chest heaving. "Now I know I'm crazy." And then he grabbed her hips and with a guttural groan of pleasure that made Erin's entire body vibrate, he pushed all the way inside her with one deep, gliding thrust.

  And she came. Instantly and ferociously.

  She wasn't even done peaking before she realized that once was not going to be enough. A moment after that, she realized this was not going to be a concern. Brady was more than up to the task. Beautifully so, perfectly so.

  He moved inside her so completely, so fully, she gasped in amazement as one wave crested, peaked, then another one built right behind it. Had she known there was anything like this in existence, she'd have dedicated her life to finding it. And keeping it selfishly all to herself for all eternity.

  Somehow she didn't think Brady was going to go for that plan. Brady. She was really feeling this, doing this, wanting more of this…with Brady. She forced her eyes to open and looked up at him, expecting to find his eyes shut as he guided his wonderful body repeatedly and perfectly into hers.

  What she found instead rocked her. His gaze was locked intently, almost fiercely on her. And it wasn't a mindless, lost-in-the-passion gaze either. It was alert, aware and looking damn possessive. Another climax ripped through her, having little to do with his body inside hers…and everything to do with how his gaze reached inside her.

  "Brady," she rasped, stunned.

  He said nothing, but remained focused on her as he pushed into her again…and again. Dragging her up to that edge one more time, his gaze telling her with every stroke that he knew his command over her in that moment was absolute and he was reveling in that power.

  But there was something else there, too. A wild, almost desperate edge that all but begged her to do something, anything, to end this, or balance it, explain it. But she didn't want to…and therein lay her own power. And she reveled in it just as much. Right now, right here, her command over him was just as powerful and just as equal as his over her. That realization brought with it a little panic, which she shoved aside.

  Her body moved with his naturally, joyfully. Their eyes remained locked on one another, making this connection deeper, more intimate. She realized she could drown in this, willingly let herself sink beneath the surface of it and never want to come up for air again. Panic crept in again as the risk grew. "Brady, I—"

  He shook his head, cutting her off by capturing her lips beneath his, plunging his tongue between them and taking her mouth in the same insistent fashion he was taking her body. Despite whatever panic they felt, he continued to demand from her the same joyful, endless response she'd given him in every other way.

  She tried not to think about the way he'd just looked at her, into her, so deeply…far more deeply than his body had penetrated hers. As his kisses continued, she let her eyes drift shut and allowed the sensation of feeling him all over her, inside her, everywhere she wanted him, to wash through her until she finally gave herself completely to it.

  The final release, when it came, was so powerful, it blanked everything from her mind except that exact moment when they'd both rocketed over the final edge. The sensations of his own shattering climax vibrated throughout her entire being. His mouth never left hers. She had felt his groan when release finally overtook him, tasted it, consumed it. />
  And then there was nothing left but the trembling. He shifted off her, and when she reached for him, not wanting him to leave her just yet, he curled one of her hands in his…but left her all the same.

  He rolled onto his back beside her and she could hear them both breathing heavily. She wanted to say something to him. Tell him how unbelievable she felt. But she couldn't make herself break the silence. She willed him to silence, too, afraid that when they finally spoke, this…whatever it had been…would change, mutate into something other than what she knew it had been.

  A release valve, huh? She wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry. Well, she'd found that all right. And so much more. Dear God, she'd discovered the true meaning of more. Almost more than she could handle. Almost.

  Her eyes closed and she fell back to that electrifying moment when she'd opened her eyes to find him looking at her like that. Like that. Like what, Erin? What was that look?

  She wasn't sure. But she did know it was exclusive and it was theirs. Only they would share it. Never had she felt that sort of connection with anyone. Soul deep, more unifying than their joined bodies, but made more special because of their joined bodies.

  Did she want to know what it meant to him? Did she dare? He was a man who didn't make commitments. She knew damn well no matter how he felt about what had just happened wouldn't change that fact one iota. She'd always known that. Hell, she'd been the one to lay down the stupid rules in the first place. Hadn't that been why she thought he'd be so perfect for this? Oh, he was perfect all right.

  Who was the joke on now?

  So now what in the hell did she do? She'd sworn this would just be physical. She also knew there was no way that was possible now. She wasn't romanticizing, dammit, she wasn't. But that look… She'd never forget that moment. Ever. No matter what he said, or tried to explain. She realized she'd never be able to ask him about it for that reason. He'd try to explain it away. And she'd hate him for that.

  Okay. Maybe she was romanticizing a little. She squeezed her eyes shut. He'd laugh himself sick if he knew the silly romantic thoughts that were running through her mind right now. So she wouldn't tell him.

  Which meant this would be it. She couldn't do this again. She'd surely end up humiliating herself by saying something she shouldn't, asking for something he couldn't or wouldn't give. So much for her bold proclamation that she could handle a jump-n-run. Yeah, thanks, Gina.

  But he was still here. Their first and only time wasn't over yet. And if she was only going to have him for one night, then she was damn well going to do her best to make it last all night.

  She opened her eyes and slowly turned her head toward his. Had he been staring at her the way he had before, she had no idea what she'd have done. Probably run to the bathroom and locked herself in. Or thrown herself at him, gushing all sorts of embarrassing confessions.

  But he wasn't. She told herself she was relieved.

  His eyes were closed, his chest moving up and down as his breathing slowly smoothed out. Just for one night, Erin. She could handle one night. Couldn't she?

  Brady jumped when he felt her warm hand slowly skim across his thigh. He wanted to groan. In pleasure or exhaustion he wasn't sure. So he bit back his reaction.

  He had no idea what had just happened between them, but he was pretty damn sure it was no release-valve thing like she'd explained. Or maybe it had been for her. And damn if she hadn't released. Over and over.

  Sweet Jesus, he'd never have done this if he'd had any idea how completely intoxicating she'd be. All of her. Her body, her mind, the way she looked at him, responded to him, took him, gave to him. He willed himself to resist the siren call of those long fingers now slowly moving up his chest. No way could he want her, want anything remotely physical, at this moment. He was wasted, satiated, totaled. Sleep should be overtaking him any second.

  Get up, Brady. Right now. He needed to move while he still could, and gather his clothes, say God knows what to her… and get the hell out of here.

  Except he couldn't ignore the way her fingers slowly rubbed over his chest. Damn but he'd had no idea a man's nipples could be so sensitive. Not his anyway. What was she doing to him? He really had to make her stop. And he would. In just a moment.

  "Erin—" He just needed her to stop for one second, so he could gather his strength and get up.

  "Shh. I want to touch you. I didn't get the chance before." He heard the smile in her voice. "We were sort of in a hurry."

  "Yeah." Scintillating, O'Keefe. You're a real conversationalist. But it was all he could manage. He'd just managed to slow his heart down to the point that it would stay safely inside his chest…and she was busily jacking it up again. Amongst other things. The woman had bewitched him. There was no other explanation for the way his body was responding. Traitor, he told himself.

  Only he wasn't buying that either. If it had only been about the sex, he'd already be standing and getting dressed, stumbling through that awkward goodbye moment and getting the hell out. Only this wasn't feeling all that awkward. In fact, it was feeling good. Damn good.

  All he had to do was lie here and let her keep touching him. No real reason to stop her, he told himself. After all, she'd made the rules. She told him he could trust her. And he had. Erin wouldn't jeopardize herself, so he felt pretty safe there. So, this was okay. He could just stay here a little longer and nothing that hadn't already been changed would really change any further.

  Right?

  She traced her fingers slowly over his face, through his hair, down around the rim of his ears, along his collarbone, then skated them over his chest again. He shivered with pleasure…and a little trepidation. It made no sense, but he realized he was suddenly feeling the tiniest bit exposed to her. Which was totally ridiculous considering what they'd just been doing. It was her eyes, he thought. Even with his own closed now, he could feel them on him like a caress. And he thought of that moment, when she'd opened her eyes while she was beneath him, and he was buried so deeply inside her sweet body. She'd looked at him, into him, in that way only she ever had. Or maybe ever would.

  He jerked his eyes open then and his hand came up to still hers. His instincts screamed at him to move, to leave. He couldn't shake that moment out of his mind and he knew right then that everything had indeed changed. He braced himself, for what he honestly couldn't say, and turned his head to look at her, his fingers still tightly covering hers.

  She was looking at him. But this was different. Her mouth was curved in that smile she had, the look in her eyes was knowing. Hungry. He'd have wondered at the very probability of that if his own body hadn't leaped in instant recognition of that hunger. He let out a relieved sigh. So maybe things hadn't changed after all. He'd just been hormonally overwhelmed earlier. Maybe there was no risk here, except that she might kill him before the night was over. He thought about that, then decided what the hell, blocked everything else out and pulled her on top of him.

  He swallowed her delighted moan and didn't take his mouth off her until she made that whimpering sound that drove him crazy. He rolled her beneath him, looking down at her as he pinned her hands to the bed. She merely lifted one eyebrow at him, supremely confident that while she might be pinned beneath him, she firmly held the upper hand.

  "Last time was a little…rough," he said.

  Her mouth curved into a slow smile. "I've heard that about cops."

  "With you being so multi…faceted and all, I figure you might be able to show me how to slow things down. Do this all refined and polite-like."

  She almost spluttered into laughter, but controlled it. "Refined, huh?" She glanced upward at his hands pinning hers down. "You'll have to release me. If you aren't afraid of my multi…facetedness, that is."

  He instantly lifted his hands, even went so far as to lift off of her and sit back on his heels. "Just tell me what to do. And how to do it."

  "So cooperative. I'm impressed." She slid her legs up beneath her and kneeled on the bed in front of him.
"First, we refined individuals usually prefer to clean up…you know, afterward."

  "Do you prefer to do this cleaning up alone?"

  "Oh no, never." She slid off the bed and held out her hand. "Lather my…back?"

  He grinned. She was more fun than he'd ever had. "Sure. But only if you'll lather…mine." He took her hand, but somehow they never made it past the door frame. He had to taste her, couldn't wait a single second longer, in fact.

  Maybe it was the way she laughed with him, so easily, or the way she dared him with that look of hers.

  Any other reasons—like that look that had thrown him for a loop earlier—those were too dangerous to contemplate. So he didn't. Keep it simple, keep it fun.

  But damn he had to taste her right now or he'd die. He stopped in the bathroom doorway and pulled her to him as he leaned back on the jamb. He found her mouth so easily, so perfectly ready for him, he groaned at the Tightness of it. Then she was leaning into him, demanding and taking equally. That turned him on even further.

  He liked it that she didn't wait, that she took what she wanted, demanded it. And that she also gave so generously. No lying back and letting him call the shots, for her pleasure or his. It was incredibly arousing knowing he had pleased her so completely…and he knew he had. Did she realize how unique this entire time had been to him? Had this been as unique to her?

  Shut up and kiss her, O'Keefe. Enjoy the moment, enjoy tonight. Don't ruin it by worrying about every little thing. He had the feeling he'd be doing plenty of that later, anyway.

  She pulled him into the bathroom, their lips still joined. She reached in and tugged the shower on, but kept her mouth firmly on his. He took and let her take as the room filled with steam. Their kiss went on…and on. It should have been jacking them up to that frantic fever pitch they'd been at earlier. But somehow the kiss slowed, deepened… defined.

  He charted her face with his fingertips as he tasted her softly, gently. Then he wove his fingers into her hair, and kissed her like something to be cherished.

  It was then Brady really began to worry.