“She loves to drive him crazy with the things she wears. Next time they go out it will be the taupe dress. She wants to trap him in the elevator at Atlantis and make love in public.”
Griffin gulped. Because it wasn’t Christina he was seeing. It wasn’t some disembodied vision made of flashes in the dark. It was himself he was seeing, doing things like that with Tessa.
Tessa, who at this moment was wearing a gauzy little Indian-cotton dress like the ones the hippie chicks in Santa Rita wore. Beads sparkled along the deeply cut U of the neckline and as she leaned forward, watching her internal movie, her curves pressed insistently against the fabric.
Then he blinked. It wasn’t just curves. Her nipples were rigid, poking at the fragile cotton in a way that begged for the satisfaction of a man’s hands.
Of a man’s mouth. His mouth.
His body tingled all over as hot blood rushed to his groin. His cock stiffened and he lost the ability to think about anything but the way the sparkly fabric of her dress held back those smooth, creamy curves.
“Griffin?” She rolled on one hip to face him, her bare knee pressing against his denim-clad thigh. “Are you okay?”
“Huh?” He dragged his gaze from her cleavage to her face. “Is it over?”
“They started to make love and the picture sort of fuzzed out. That happens, you know. When you make love. You lose touch with the external world.”
“Do you?” He couldn’t remember, it had been so long.
“You get so wrapped up in the other person…in their mouth…in their hands…you know?”
She was sun-warmed and sensual and every word was like another match to a piece of paper already on fire. Her mouth was so close and it was saying those things and he just…couldn’t…help it….
TESSA’S LIPS PARTED under his like a tropical flower opening to the sun. The heat of his desire washed over her and she responded to it as naturally as if her body had been waiting for his all along.
All the good sense in the world told her this man was wrong for her. They came from different backgrounds, had different definitions of just about every principle and had different expectations of life.
Yup, she should listen to good sense.
But not while his mouth tasted so good. Not while his heat burned her, while his hands slid around her and dragged her closer. His tongue invaded her mouth and slid along hers, inviting and asking permission at the same time. She stroked it in response and he deepened the kiss, changing his angle so that it tipped her head back.
A tiny sound slipped from her throat, a sound that was two parts desire and one part surrender. Griffin broke the kiss and looked into her eyes.
“I did it again.” He straightened, and the cool air flowed between them, chilling the parts that had been fused together.
“Did what again?” She couldn’t seem to take her gaze off his mouth. He had a great mouth, and he knew exactly what to do with it. She loved that in a man.
“It’s this case.” His gesture seemed to encompass both her and the trysting spot. “Every time you see them, they’re making love. I’m supposed to be helping you see details about where they are, and instead I let the sex distract me.”
“I like distracting you.” She moved closer, and put a hand on his chest. The fabric of his shirt was heated from the sun and from his agitation.
It was exciting to be the reason for that agitation. She just had to find a way to get him past this idea that sex was a problem and move on to the good part. After all, they were alone in this sheltered spot and both of them wanted the same thing.
She took his chin in her fingers, turned his head and captured his lips with hers.
His resistance crumbled like a sand castle against the tide. Yes, I’m giving you permission, her mouth said, so stop teasing and get down to business.
He might not be a sensitive, but he knew a thing or two about body language. This time his kiss was deep and less restrained, as if he’d allowed himself to enjoy it. Her arms slid around his neck and she slid across him to straddle his lap as he sat with his back against the log.
“Now, then,” she said happily, and he raised his mouth to meet hers once more. Is that permission enough for you? He drank kisses from her, and now his was the head tipped back against the scarred, weathered wood. Maybe he got tired of being in charge all the time. Maybe he just needed a girl to tell him to shut up and kiss her.
For the moment, Tessa was perfectly happy to be that girl.
His hands were heavy at her waist, as if he felt he had to hold her down, and their heat burned through the fabric of her dress. That wasn’t all that was burning. Pressing against her damp panties was the evidence that this was no ordinary kiss. His erection was hard and insistent, and every time she moved, his hips lifted in glorious suggestion.
The atmosphere of this spot was finally getting to him. Her thighs hugged his hips and her crotch fit onto his erection through two layers of underwear and one of denim. She rocked against it, slowly, the rhythm as ancient as the crash of the waves or the pull of the tide.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he groaned. “Christina is depending on us.”
Tessa stroked the long line of his lower lip with her tongue and bit it gently. “I don’t think she’s thinking about us at all,” she said against his lips. “I want you to undo my zipper.”
“Oh, God.” His head fell back against the log in a posture of temporary defeat, but she felt his erection throb and tighten.
“I know you want to look at my breasts,” she whispered wickedly. “And the sun is so hot—you’re so hot—I want your mouth on me, Griffin.”
He made a sound in the back of his throat and lowered his mouth to her cleavage as he skimmed his hands up her rib cage and cupped her breasts in both hands. His mouth was hot and demanding and bolts of pleasure flickered through her as he licked her skin.
Since her hands were free, Tessa reached around and ran her zipper down its track herself. The fragile fabric relaxed, and the neckline dropped, exposing her nipples.
“Damn,” he whispered. “No bra. You do read minds. Or answer prayers.”
With a shimmy of her shoulders, the dress dropped completely to her waist, where her sweater was tied, leaving her naked to his gaze. And what a gaze it was. It devoured her, worshipped her, consumed her like fire and left her hotter than ever.
“You prayed I wouldn’t wear a bra?” She smiled with delight and anticipation.
“Yeah, well, call me shallow. You are the most beautiful thing I ever laid eyes on.”
“Lick me,” she commanded softly. “I want your mouth on my nipples.”
“Another prayer answered.”
Her nipples felt rigid with impatience, as though she couldn’t wait for his mouth to lower that last inch and taste her. When he did, when the damp heat of his tongue swirled around her areola and his lips closed on her, she moaned. She wasn’t the only one who was impatient. He suckled her hard, tugging gently, both hands holding her breasts with a kind of reverence. The pleasure spread like wildfire through her body, a bolt of lightning that ignited the very core of her and made it weep with need for him.
As if he were the one who read minds, he slid one hand under the skirt of her dress and stroked her naked thighs. “Your skin is like silk,” he murmured into her cleavage as his tongue made a slow trip down one slope and up the other. With stealth, he stroked her inner thighs with those long fingers that seemed to be designed for this very thing.
“Will you touch me?” she whispered. “I’m so wet for you I can’t stand it.”
His mouth closed on her other nipple, drawing it deeply into his mouth where his tongue flickered over it and made her whimper.
“Please, Griffin.”
In answer, his fingers stroked the damp crotch of her panties. She was so swollen and sensitive that she jumped at the eruption of pleasure from his touch.
“Please,” she begged breathlessly. Oh, would he stop teasing? How could
she get his jeans off without breaking the moment? How long could she stand not having him inside her?
“Who’s in charge now?” he murmured against her skin, his cheek creasing in a wicked grin. Meanwhile, his fingers teased her, featherlight, dancing along her vulva through the aggravating protection of her panties.
“You are,” she panted. “Don’t stop.”
He had mercy on her then, and slid his hand under the low-slung waistband of her panties, cupping her mound and sliding a finger into her folds. She moaned with pleasure.
“I am, huh? Okay, how about this?”
Before she realized what he was doing, he’d stripped off his T-shirt and tossed it on the log behind his head. Then, with an arm under her knees and one under her shoulders, he lifted her bodily onto the fabric-covered log.
Oh, my. “Are you going to—here—what if—?”
He covered her mouth in a kiss that obliterated all ability to ask questions. Then he kissed his way down her supine body and with one movement, pulled off her panties. She found a foothold for one foot on another, lower log and gasped as he moved between her legs.
She forgot the sea breeze that cooled her moist pussy, as wet as a bed of damp moss. She forgot the blazing sun and the possibility of discovery. She even forgot her no-cops rule and the knowledge that she shouldn’t be doing this with a man who was so wrong for her.
But who cared, when his mouth was hot and masterful on her thighs, when his tongue was skilled, when reality was even better than her late-night fantasies?
He separated her folds with those wicked fingers and lowered his mouth to her clitoris. With the first stroke of his tongue she practically came up off the log. He held her down and imprisoned her with his mouth, giving pleasure and demanding response with every fierce stroke. She was so ready, so suffused with need, that three or four strokes were all it took.
She cried out, high and ecstatic, as the orgasm crashed through her, radiating out from his tongue through every muscle and fiber.
He cried out, too, and tore his mouth away from her shuddering body. He pulled her skirts down with such abruptness that she swung herself to a sitting position and practically fell into his arms.
“Oh, my God, Griffin, that was—”
“Pull your dress up.”
“What?” Dazed with pleasure, glowing with satisfaction, her muscles were so relaxed she could hardly sit up straight.
“Quick! There’s a dog.”
She gawked at the huge black Labrador who was panting next to him. He’d obviously just goosed Griffin in a sensitive spot and he stood there, ready to play, wearing a grin as big and goofy as her own had just been.
“Oh, no.”
The zipper screeched up its track just in time. Two preteen boys burst around the foot of the granite outcrop, calling for the dog, and coming up short when they saw the two of them.
Tessa and Griffin sat side by side on the log, as innocent as two strangers on a park bench.
The boys goggled at them, called the dog’s name, then turned and ran back the way they had come, the dog bounding after them.
Too late, Tessa saw her underwear lying on the sand.
Oops.
Maybe they’d think it was a jellyfish.
15
NORMALLY YOU COULD EXPECT a guy who had just given you fabulous oral sex to take your hand on the way back down the beach.
But no-o-o-o-o.
Clearly, Griffin had been jolted off that happy track and back into his serious, on-the-job rut. “Tessa, we need to talk.”
“Okay.” She smiled at him, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes.
“Jay is depending on us. So until we find Christina, we can’t let ourselves get sidetracked by—” He stopped.
“Ourselves?”
“By anything. Including this—” he moved his hands, as if trying to describe it “—this thing that keeps happening between us.”
“I don’t know about you, but I like this thing,” she said cheerfully. “It’s a man and a woman enjoying what comes naturally. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, except that we’re not the right man or the right woman.”
Oh, well, if you put it that way.
She knew it. Really, she did. But it was depressing to have it pointed out so…pointedly. Obviously, there was something about sex or women or sex with this woman in particular that frightened Mr. Former Hardnosed Cop to death.
What a shame. All that great potential, going to waste. Despite what he said, she just couldn’t let it happen. Maybe she should push him a bit more. Like a counselor would. Take him past the point of no return so he could see it wasn’t as scary as he thought on the other side.
Not that she was thinking along the lines of anything permanent, mind you. But since they were here and stuck with each other and thinking about sex as much as they thought about the case, what could be wrong with going with the flow?
Maybe she should throw the cards.
Maybe she should talk to her sister. See what she knew about Griffin Knox and his ex-wife.
Maybe you should mind your own business.
Hey, he’d just made her come. That made it her business.
And what happens if the flow turns into a raging river and you can’t get out?
Ha! She should be so lucky.
Be careful what you wish for.
LINN WAS OUT on surveillance, one of her sister’s coworkers told her once she was back in Christina’s room. Griffin was with Jay, hopefully not briefing him on their personal take on the beach scene in From Here to Eternity, so she had a few minutes to get the scoop on him.
“Can you do me a favor and look up the number for Natalie Wong at the Santa Rita P.D.?”
“Sure. Is this Linn’s sister?”
“Yes. And who is this?”
“Coop. Cooper Maxwell,” he elaborated when she didn’t respond.
“Oh, Coop. Hi.” Eek. Maybe she should just call SRPD directly.
“I hear we’re going to be walking down the aisle together.”
She distinctly felt her heart stop, trip, and then start up again. “What?”
“You and me. Maid of honor and best man. You know, during the ceremony.”
“Oh. Oh, yeah. I knew that. Can’t wait,” she lied.
“That is, if we all make it in one piece to the ceremony. I don’t know if I can stand another month of this.”
“Is Linn getting on everyone’s nerves? Holding swatches of lavender silk up against you and stuff?”
“No, she’s just really, really stressed. That woman took down a drug lord with a bottle of wine, but one call from the caterer can reduce her to tears.”
“Wow. That’s bad. Um, I’m a little short on time, here. Can I get that number?”
“Oh, sure. Hey, I’ll tell her you called. God knows she needs someone female to talk to. Okay, this card here says Natalie Wong is in Forensics. Direct line is 831-555-7725.”
“Thanks, Investigator.”
“Girls I walk down aisles with call me Coop.”
“Coop. Right. Bye.”
Tessa disconnected, feeling as though she’d escaped some kind of trap. Okay, Natalie Wong. She dialed the number, and to her relief, Natalie picked up right away and even remembered her.
“Oh, sure, Linn’s sister. We met at my Dirty Thirties birthday bash.”
“That’s right. It was fun. Hey, um, I need some personal information and since Linn is on surveillance I thought I would go right to the source.”
“As long as it’s not case-related, I’m your girl.”
“Oh, it’s not. Not your case, anyway. Did you know a guy called Griffin Knox?”
“Sure I knew him. Got his knee blown out by a crackhead. Invalided out. Works for some corporation now, but I can’t remember which one.”
“Ocean Technology.”
“Yes, that was it. What did you need to know?”
“How well did you know him? And are you still in touch?”
“As well as I know any of these guys, and no. He kind of fell off the face of the earth as far as the department was concerned. Doesn’t even come to the Christmas party, though I know for a fact the chief’s assistant invites him every year.”
Oh, good. That meant Natalie wasn’t likely to ring him up and have a chummy chat about how Tessa was checking up on him.
“Do you know anything about his, um, personal life?”
There was a pause, and Tessa imagined Natalie tilting her head and narrowing her eyes. “Any particular reason you need to know?”
She was not a good liar, and there wasn’t much point in learning to be a better one now. “I’m in a—a situation with him. An attraction thing. But he keeps pulling back and I need to know if there’s a reason for it. I figure the ex-wife is probably a good place to start.”
“You mean Sheryl.”
“Um, yeah.”
A few beats of silence passed during which Natalie appeared to be thinking. Or maybe she’d just decided that Tessa was way too nosy about a former fellow officer and she was deciding on a nice way to tell her to get lost. Or maybe—
“See, the thing with Griffin is that he was head over heels about his wife,” Natalie said slowly. “I can trust you not to pass this on, right?”
“Absolutely,” Tessa promised.
“That’s the kind of guy he is. Intense. Persistent. When he goes for something, he does it one hundred percent, whether it’s an investigation or a relationship or whatever. So when he married Sheryl, as far as he was concerned, he was in it for life. You should have heard the way he talked about her.”
“How long were they married?”
“Three years.”
“Not very long.”
“Like I say, he was in it for life. It’s a shame she didn’t see things the same way.”
Aha. Now they were coming to it. “What happened?”
Natalie paused. “I feel like such a gossip. Are you sure you shouldn’t be talking this over with Griffin?”
“We’re not at the point where you go through the ex list.” We’re not at any point at all, really, beach orgasm notwithstanding. “But this is really helping.”
Sex & Sensibility Page 13
