by Meg Benjamin
Nando managed a half smile. “So you’re the go-between? He probably appreciates that.”
Her eyes were dark in the gathering twilight. “He’s my friend, Nando. I respect him. That’s about it.”
He felt an absurd jolt of relief which he promptly suppressed. Keep it light, moron. “So how’s the wedding coming?” he picked up another slice of pizza. “I got my invitation, by the way.”
The wedding conversation took them through half the pizza and most of the wine. The older couple left with their picnic basket. The family left with one kid asleep on his father’s shoulder and the other whining as his mother pulled him along toward the car.
Nando leaned forward on his elbows, watching Kit’s face in the darkness. Shadows from the overhead lights along the park paths picked out the hollows beneath her cheek bones. She turned to look at him, her eyes dark in the dim light, and he realized they’d been silent for few moments. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember what she’d been saying before that. He’d been lost in the wonder of her face.
He swallowed hard. “More pizza?”
She shook her head, smiling faintly. “I’ve had all I can eat tonight.”
“Well…” He rubbed his jaw. “We could go dancing—there’s a band at the Faro.”
“We could,” Kit agreed. She didn’t sound too enthusiastic. “I’ve been on my feet all day, though.”
“Or we could stick around here at the park…” he began.
A group of teenagers clattered to a table a few feet away. They watched as the boys set up speakers leading to an iPod dock and then turned up the volume.
Kit grimaced. “Or not.”
Nando didn’t recognize the music that began to play at near-sonic levels, but he hated it instantly. He considered arresting the little pissants for violating the noise ordinance, but it would have meant leaving Kit and doing paperwork at the office. He leaned across the table so that their heads were close enough to let him be heard without bellowing. “Want to go to my place?”
Kit stared at him for a beat, and his heart began to ache in anticipation. Then the corners of her mouth edged up in another faint smile. “Mine’s closer.”
What are you doing? What the hell are you doing? The voice of her rational self almost drowned out the thumping of Kit’s heart.
We’re just going to the house. It doesn’t mean we’re going to do anything. I can stop this anytime I want.
Do you want to stop?
She’d rushed home from work. She’d put on her red lace lingerie. Clearly, she’d already been thinking about doing this. And stopping didn’t seem to fit into her plans. Kit took another in a series of deep breaths. We’re going to do this. We’re going to do this now. Even without the Lizzie Farraday conversation we need to have.
She glanced at Nando’s profile in the streetlights as they cruised up Firewheel—his jaw was set, his dark eyes fixed on the road ahead, his hair slightly mussed from the breeze. He looked like he’d focused every particle of his consciousness on getting them to her house as quickly as possible without breaking any of the relevant traffic laws.
If he focused that kind of attention on her, she’d probably be dragging him into her bedroom five minutes after they got in the front door, assuming they made it that far. She closed her eyes. Dangerous. Really, really dangerous.
Oh hell, what’s life without a little risk? We can always talk later. And we will.
Nando pulled into the driveway and turned off the ignition. “Is Allie around? Will I need to move the car?”
Kit shook her head. “Allie’s off playing with Wonder.”
He glanced at her, grinning. “That sounds like a song title.”
“Yeah, well, it may be the only way Steve Kleinschmidt qualifies as poetic.” She sighed. “If you bring the wine and pizza, I can give you a piece of Tupperware or something to put it into.”
He nodded, gathering up the bottle and box from the backseat as she dug into her purse for her keys. She was annoyed to feel her fingers trembling. Knock it off, Catarina. It’s just a date. With Nando. That’s heading inside toward the bedroom.
Fortunately, he was so busy juggling the pizza and wine he didn’t seem to notice how many tries it took her to get the key in the lock. She stood in the front hall, watching him slide the pizza into the refrigerator, wondering if she should ask him to sit down, maybe search out some glasses for the wine, maybe put on some music.
He sauntered back from the kitchen, looping one arm around her waist as he stared down at her lips.
Maybe not.
Now that it was happening, or maybe about to happen, he had a sudden attack of nerves. Maybe she didn’t want this. Maybe she’d tell him no. Maybe…
Kit stared up at him for a long moment, then wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his mouth down to hers. He felt the press of her teeth against his lower lip, the tip of her tongue sweeping along the edge. And suddenly he was pulling her tight, feeling her breasts soft against his chest, her mouth opening beneath his as his tongue plunged deep. He angled his head again, one hand buried in her hair, his palm cupping the back of her head as he deepened the kiss.
His blood roared in his ears as his groin ached with arousal. His pulse seemed to have become a constant beat, now, now, now. Now up against the wall. Now on the floor. Now on the kitchen table only a few steps away. But now, somewhere now.
He raised his head, panting, trying to get his brain to function again. She stared up at him with whiskey-dark eyes, her lips full and bruised with his kisses. He could feel the puff of her breath on his chin, see the quick rise and fall of her breasts.
He covered one breast with his hand, feeling the warm weight against his palm. Now, now, now.
“Kit…” he managed to gasp.
“No,” she said, pulling his mouth down again. “No talking. No.”
His brain was rapidly turning to mush, but he had just enough wit left to know that he didn’t want to do this against a wall or on the floor. He didn’t want to do it anywhere that would let her think she’d made a mistake in doing it at all. He started to pull her down the hall that opened off the kitchen. There were a lot of doors ahead—one of them was probably hers.
Kit slowed and pushed one of the doors open, pulling him in behind her, then slamming the door after him.
He turned and looked down at her again. Moonlight poured through the window next to the bed—her bed, he assumed. Her dark eyes stared back up at him, like dusky pools in the dimness of the room. Her nipples peaked hard against the silk of her blouse.
That was the first thing he needed to do—get that blouse off her. He needed—really needed—to touch her skin. His fingers fumbled at the buttons, finally managing to push them through openings that seemed way too small for the purpose. Then he was pushing the blouse away from her shoulders and down her arms, onto the floor.
His breath sounded loud in the silence of the room, his fingers fumbling again at the opening of her bra. Kit leaned forward, pushing his T-shirt up his chest, running her hands down his body, her thumbs scratching quickly across his nipples.
He was making a mess of the clasp, his fingers twisting the fabric. God, why didn’t lingerie manufacturers think of this when they made the damn things?
She pushed his hands away, lightly, then unfastened the bra and dropped it to the floor with her blouse.
He stared at her, his mouth suddenly so dry he wasn’t sure he could speak, didn’t know what he’d say even if he could. You are the most glorious thing I’ve ever seen. Please don’t let it be a dream this time. Or if it is, please don’t let me wake up.
He moved toward her again, cupping her breasts in his hands, then bending down to take a nipple in his mouth. He sucked hard, drawing it up against his teeth, feeling it pebble against his tongue. Kit’s breath hissed in a gasp of what he devoutly hoped was pleasure.
His fingers moved to the snap on her jeans, then the zipper pull, pushing them down her hips and then watching as she
kicked them aside. He took a moment, just a moment, to look at her, her slender body half in moon shadow. The memory of her as she’d been eighteen months ago, silver in the moonlight, blended with the now.
She was here. Finally, she was here with him as she should be, as he needed her to be. His heart gave a mighty thump. Please, please don’t let me screw this up.
He touched her hip, running his hand slowly down the slim column of her thigh. Her skin beneath his hand was cool, soft, almost too delicate for his own calloused palm to touch. Slowly, slowly, he let his hand drift around, cupping the warm mounds of her buttocks, feeling them flex beneath his palm. She gasped again, her body trembling beneath his hand.
And then she leaned forward, her fingers stabbing into his hair, her mouth devouring him, teeth, tongue, startled hot wetness. She slid her lips down the side of his throat, leaving a trail of warmth and sensation, then nipped at his collarbone. Immediately, he was granite from the waist down, so tight he wasn’t sure he could lower his zipper without causing permanent injury.
She leaned forward again, her lips brushing against his ear. “Nando,” she whispered, “let’s get you naked.”
In some distant corner of her mind, Kit was terrified. She’d never felt like this with anyone before, not even with him—like she had to get him inside her within the next five minutes or die here in the middle of her bedroom. He had way too much power over her all of a sudden, but she didn’t know how to stop him. And, of course, she didn’t really want to.
Nando, Nando, Nando. The name kept pounding in her brain, echoing through her body. Eighteen months she’d been without him, telling herself she didn’t care. Now her body was telling her the whole not-caring part had been a lie.
I can do this. I don’t need explanations to do this. I’ll think about that later.
He pulled off his shirt, then began working on his belt, but she stilled his hands. She stood for a moment, looking up at him, the smooth slabs of muscle over his chest, the slender hips, the flat circles of his nipples beneath the slight dusting of dark hair. “Let me,” she whispered and reached for his belt buckle.
He dropped his hands to his sides for a moment as she unfastened the buckle, then reached up again to clasp her shoulders, as if he couldn’t stop touching her.
He wants me as much as I want him. The knowledge sped through her like brandy in her blood, warming, thrilling. She reached for his zipper.
“Um…” He narrowed his eyes, taking hold of her hand. “Better let me.” He struggled for a moment, pulling the zipper carefully over the swell of his arousal, then jerking his jeans and underwear down and kicking them away.
Kit stared at him again, the lean body with its ropes of muscle. The solid length of him jutted free, painfully erect. Her breath caught in her throat for a moment, and then she moved forward again, pressing herself against him from shoulder to knee. His erection pulsed against her belly, the sound of his breath loud in her ear. He fisted his hands in her hair, pulling her back gently until his mouth found hers again.
It wasn’t a kiss so much as a claiming. He nibbled on her lips, then plunged deep into her mouth, his hands cupping her face now, holding her steady.
She slid her hands down his sides, feeling the points of his hip bones, the slight indentation at the top of his thighs. She slid down further to cup him gently, hearing the quick hiss of breath as his mouth dropped away from hers.
He took hold of her shoulders, pushing her back until she felt the edge of the bed against the backs of her knees. And then she was sliding down gently, with Nando’s hands guiding her to the mattress.
He fumbled at his jeans on the floor, pulling the foil packet loose from the pocket. She didn’t stop to wonder how he’d known it would end like this. He’d just known. So had she. And then he was kissing the side of her neck, running a hand down her stomach to cup her, one finger dipping inside to send something like an electric shock through her abdomen.
She gasped at the suddenness of the feeling that washed across her.
Nando pushed himself up on one elbow. “Okay?”
She nodded, chewing her lip. “More than okay. Way more than okay.”
His teeth flashed in the darkness before he ripped open the foil, sheathing himself quickly. “Sorry, babe, I can’t be slow this time. I’ll make it up to you.”
“I don’t want slow,” she growled. “I want you. Now. As hard and fast as you can make it.”
He pushed her back against the mattress, spreading her knees wide. And then he was sliding in, impossibly large, stretching her more than she could bear but so much what she wanted. She wrapped her legs around him as he plunged deep, then fought the urge to moan in protest as he moved back again.
“Oh Christ, Kit,” he muttered. “Sweet Christ. I forgot how good it feels to be inside you.”
She wrapped her arms more tightly around his waist to hold on, arms and legs both locked around his body. All of a sudden she felt as if she might fly apart without an anchor to hold her in place. The feel of him deep inside, the thrust against her inner muscles made her whimper with need. Pressure began to build within her, carrying her up.
He slid his hand between them, rubbing his thumb against her, and she cried out, digging her fingers into his shoulder blades as she spiraled upward toward a starburst of sensation.
“Open your eyes,” he whispered. “Look at me, Catarina. Look at me now. I need to see you feel it.”
She squinted, fighting for breath as the starburst took her, then stared up into the infinite darkness of his gaze. The muscles of his face were taut, his mouth pulled tight across his teeth. “Look at me,” he gasped. “Now.”
She brought her hands down to cup him, closing her fingers around the root, and he shattered, plunging deep inside as he threw his head back and shouted. Kit brought her heels tight against him holding him in, the breath whistling in her throat.
In another moment he dropped down beside her again, rubbing his face against her shoulder, one hand moving to cup her breast. “Ah, Catarina,” he whispered. “Catarina. I’ve missed you so much.”
Kit swallowed hard. She felt as if her heart had missed a beat. Careful, for Christ’s sake be careful!
“Me too,” she whispered so softly she wasn’t sure he could hear. “Oh, me too.”
Chapter Eighteen
Clayton Delaney took one more turn down Main Street. People were still coming and going at the bars and a couple of the restaurants like Brenner’s that stayed open late. It was Saturday night in Konigsburg, and both tourists and locals were taking advantage of the balmy weather, even if it was the end of March when it could start raining at any moment.
On the whole, Clayton got a kick out of Konigsburg, a lot more than he had out of Johnson City where he’d grown up and where his parents still lived. He was looking for an in-town apartment in his price range, but he hadn’t found one yet. As soon as he did, he’d be moving out of his parents’ house and into his own place. It wasn’t that Johnson City didn’t have its own attractions, but everybody there knew him. And his parents. And his grandparents. And his uncles, aunts and assorted cousins. Some people in Johnson City could probably draw up an entire family tree for a couple of generations of the Delaneys with no trouble at all. And when they saw him, they probably remembered every half-assed thing he’d ever done, all the way back to grade school. It was no way for a cop to live.
No, Konigsburg was definitely better for him. He liked the town, he liked the people, he liked the other cops. Well, he liked most of the other cops. Ham Linklatter was an asshole, but Clayton figured most police departments had one or two assholes running around. It sort of went with the territory.
The other people were outstanding, though. Chief Toleffson was already legendary in the county, the guy who’d personally caught the crooked mayor and a woman who’d tried to kidnap a baby. Clayton thought he was probably as good as most big city chiefs of police, and he figured Konigsburg was lucky to have him, particularly since
he had family in the area and would probably stick around for the long haul.
He respected Nando too. Like Toleffson, he was a lot better than some of the small town cops Clayton had encountered while he was growing up in the Hill Country. And Helen Kretschmer was the most terrifying woman he’d ever seen, which was actually a plus for a dispatcher. She was very good at her job too.
Watching Nando and Toleffson work was an education in itself, almost as helpful as the Criminal Justice classes he’d taken at Austin Community College. He wanted to finish his associate’s degree, and Toleffson had said they might be able to adjust his hours so he could take a few more classes on line this summer.
Clayton ran an assessing glance over the lower end of Main. It was still early for the burglar to be out and around. In reality, he thought the creep had probably taken off by now. They’d almost caught him last time, and he hadn’t taken anything that was worth shit in either of the other break-ins. He’d probably figure he should cut his losses and maybe move on to someplace like Marble Falls.
Still, if Clayton had learned anything in his short law enforcement career, it was that crooks didn’t always think things through. If the perp was local, he might want to stick around—he might not even think about moving on to someplace that wasn’t familiar. And if he decided to stick around, it was going to be a lot easier to catch him. Because sooner or later his luck would run out. Sooner or later his own stupidity would help them get a line on him.
Clayton smiled. He really, really wanted to be the one who did that. He’d started cruising Main in the evenings, even when he wasn’t on duty. He figured if he saw anything suspicious, he could always call the station and be forwarded to whoever was patrolling that night. Nailing this particular SOB would help him to move from being the New Guy to being someone the others knew they could depend on. He didn’t figure it would happen overnight, but he figured it would happen a lot quicker if he could catch the burglar, or at least see something that would help somebody else catch the burglar.
