If You Know Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense

by Shiloh Walker

  Nia sobbed out his name and all but collapsed.

  Law caught her, turned and eased her to the floor, barely breaking his rhythm. He tongued her clit, sucked it into his mouth and pulled oh, so carefully, before releasing it. And still, he pumped two wicked, clever fingers in—out—

  “Don’t stop,” she begged, fisting her hands in his hair, desperate, so focused, so fixed on it—so close, so close.

  “Not on my life,” he muttered. Another stroke of his fingers, another light, gentle tug with his teeth.

  Nia shattered, shuddering, shaking, sobbing his name as she came. The orgasm wrenched through her, drawing tighter, tighter …

  And then Law was gone.

  Holy fuck—

  Law shoved back on his heels, his head full of the taste of her, the feel of her, the sight. With a shaking hand, he fumbled for the rubbers she’d brought with her. It took two tries to tear the damn thing off the strip, another two tries before he managed to get it open.

  Her eyes, golden and blistering hot, stared up at him.

  Her hips were rocking—frenzied, small movements, like she still was trying to feel his fingers inside her.

  Not enough—he needed to be inside her. All of him.

  His fingers didn’t want to work and the damn rubber didn’t want to cooperate and by the time he had it rolled down over his aching flesh, the fog in Nia’s eyes had cleared. She had one elbow behind her like she was about to sit up.

  He came over her, catching her face in his hands. She opened for him and he shuddered as her tongue came out, stroked over his, sucking it into her mouth. Her hands raced down his back, caught his hips, tugged him close.

  That was all the invitation he needed.

  Hardly able to breathe for want of her, he drove inside, his groan mingling with her cry.

  She was tight, clenching down around him, squeezing him, milking him, drawing him deeper and deeper … “Oh, hell, yeah,” he muttered against her lips. “You feel so damn good.”

  Nia smiled against his lips. “You feel pretty damn good yourself.” Bringing one leg up, she arched her hips and groaned.

  He echoed the sound as she clenched tighter around him, the silken, snug walls of her pussy gripping him through the thin shield of latex. Bracing his weight on his elbows, he rocked against her, slow … easy—even though every last thing inside him screamed, Harder … faster …

  Months of dreaming of this, damn it, it was going to last longer than a hundred and twenty seconds.

  Then Nia hooked her leg over his hip and slid a palm to grip down his back, her hand on his ass, her nails biting into his skin. She arched up, meeting each thrust, moving faster, demanding, driving him—

  Tearing his mouth away, he snarled, “Fuck.”

  He shoved upright—distance, needed distance, needed to get away from her mouth, needed to slow down and think … But now, his position drove him even deeper and he stared down at her as she whimpered, her eyes wide, almost glassy. A broken plea on her lips.

  Hell …

  Shifting his weight, he reached between them, circled his thumb over her clit, teeth clenched as she tightened around him—when she came, he bit down on the inside of his cheek and hoped the pain might clear his head, because damn it, he was dying.

  Her breathing ragged, her body went lax under his. “We’re not done,” he rasped, fisting a hand in her dark, short hair. Law greedily took her mouth as he started to ride her again—deep, hard. So damned hungry, so damned hungry …

  If she’d had the breath, she might have told him to give her a minute.

  But even if she had had the breath? He would have stolen it away again.

  Even as she was drifting back down, Law had his mouth on hers, one of those deep, demanding kisses that drove every sane, logical thought from her brain. And he was moving, his body hard and hungry and hot, his cock thrusting deep. If that wasn’t enough to drive her to insanity, he had his hand between them, his thumb stroking over her clit, toying with it, stroking in fast, hard circles and every damn time she thought she’d get her breath, he stole it back away.

  Dying.

  Nia was dying—couldn’t live this long without breathing, take this kind of pleasure and still survive.

  She knew it.

  Then his mouth was gone, stroking along her cheek, down her neck. His teeth raked along her skin and she shuddered, shivered. “Hell, Nia,” he muttered. “What are you doing to me? What the hell …”

  He bit her neck, licked the small hurt, kissed it, repeating that over and over as he moved down her neck, along her collarbone down to her breast. By the time he reached her nipple, she was desperate, so desperate to have him kissing her there.

  But he didn’t.

  Instead he reversed his path, kissing back up the way he came, and starting that same trail down her left side.

  She groaned as his chin nudged her nipple this time and she fisted a hand in his hair. “Stop teasing,” she muttered.

  “You don’t like teasing?” he whispered, his breath blowing a warm puff of air along her skin.

  “Law …”

  He chuckled … then caught her breast in his hand, plumped it, stroking his thumb over the nipple.

  That was … nice—but not enough.

  Tugging him closer, she whimpered and arched up, pressed tight—damn it, she was dying, her nipples burning hot points and if he didn’t …

  Then he did, his mouth closing around one aching tip. Nia slammed her head back against the floor as the pleasure blistered through her head, molten hot, thick and mind-blowing.

  Mind-shattering …

  Another climax loomed—massively powerful, too massive. Instinctively, she tried to pull back, without even realizing.

  “No,” Law muttered, slanting his mouth over hers, his voice gruff, kisses hungry. “Stay with me …”

  Stay with me … Self-preservation insisted she pull back. But she couldn’t—she just couldn’t. Greedy, desperate for him, she clutched him close, opened for each bruising, hungry kiss. Reveled in each deep, driving thrust.

  Stay with me … Nia was starting to realize it would take a hell of a lot to pull her away.

  He groaned out her name, a harsh, ragged growl. Deep inside, she felt his cock jerk and swell, felt him throb and rasp over already swollen and sensitive tissues.

  It was too much—way too much. Tearing her mouth away from his, she sank her teeth into his shoulder, shuddering as her orgasm slammed into her.

  He braced his free arm at her shoulders, held her steady—held her together because she thought she might be flying apart.

  … hell.

  Coherent thought escaped him.

  The ability to move completely evaded him.

  He lay sprawled over Nia, dimly aware that he needed to move, but unable to manage it. She laid a hand up his side, let it linger there for just a second before it fell limply to the side.

  He might have smiled at the sound of it hitting the floor, but that was kind of how he felt. Boneless. Drained.

  And he needed to move …

  Groaning, he stiffened his arms and managed to roll away, ending up flat on his back next to her. In the middle of his foyer. He stared up at the dark ironwork of his light fixture, his mind slowly trying to come back to life.

  He had just had the best sex of his life with a woman he had met all of five times. Including today. On the floor of his foyer.

  Next to him, Nia snickered.

  Lifting his head took something of an effort, but he managed. Barely. Cocking a brow, he waited.

  She rolled onto her side and snuggled up against him, grinning at him. Her golden eyes were mischievous, full of smug, female satisfaction. “You know, I’d planned on jumping you when I got here, but I thought maybe we could make it to your bedroom,” she said, resting her chin on his chest. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  Law smiled. “I don’t think you were on your own in this.” He grimaced and eased away, slowly sitting up
and surveying the floor. His jeans were lying by the door, his boxers a few inches away. He didn’t even remember taking them off.

  Her clothes were everywhere—her jeans in a heap by the stairs, her shirt by the arched opening to the living room, her bra and panties somewhere in the middle. Law scooped up the lacy tangle of her underwear, eyeing it. “I think we did some damage here,” he mused.

  “We?” She sat up and snagged the panties from him, eyeing the torn lace and silk. “I think I was busy tearing your clothes off, not mine. You tore them, pal.”

  He thought back, trying to remember just when he’d peeled that red lace and silk away from her—peeled, torn, whatever. “Good point. Okay, I tore them. Maybe I owe you a new pair.”

  “Maybe?” She rested her chin on her knee, dropping the torn lace on the floor. “Maybe you do.” She snickered again as she looked around the foyer. “The floor. I can’t believe I jumped you on the floor.”

  Just staring at her was enough to make his mouth go dry, he thought. And his heart ache, in the weirdest damn way. “It was a mutual jumping, I think. Besides, unless you’re in a rush, we can always aim for the bedroom.” He scrubbed his hands over his face, realized he could smell her on him—realized he really liked it, too.

  A lot.

  “Hmmm. No rush. You know, I haven’t done anything that crazy in years.” She came to her knees and settled behind him, her arms draped around him. The soft, warm weight of her breasts pressed against his back was enough to have his dick twitching in interest already.

  Down, boy, he thought ruefully. Going at it on the floor again was not what he needed to do. Finesse—some finesse here. He knew the meaning of the word, thought he could manage it. Under normal circumstances, he usually did just fine, too.

  Glancing back at her, he brushed a hand down her arm. “Have to admit, I haven’t either.” Her mouth drew him and before he realized it, he was kissing her, bringing his hand up and holding the back of her head, in case she tried to pull away.

  Not that she did.

  Hell.

  He could get used to this. Way too used to this.

  Easing back, he made himself pull away, forced himself to stand, put some distance between them. Although he didn’t feel the levity at all, he said, “I don’t know about you, but I could stand a shower.”

  Her lashes low over her eyes, she stretched. Then she stood and smiled at him, closing the distance between them and stroking a finger down the front of his chest.

  “Is that an invitation, Reilly?”

  “Sounded that way to me.” His heart stuttered as she pressed against him and the flicker of interest became a slow, inexorable rise, one he couldn’t have fought for anything. “You’re going to be trouble, Nia Hollister,” he muttered. “All sorts of it, I can tell.”

  “I’ve always been trouble.”

  He came through the woods.

  Before he made plans, before he considered what plans he might need to make, he needed to know why she was here.

  After all, Nia Hollister’s visit to town could be mundane.

  He didn’t believe that, though. Visits to the sheriff, nosing around through public records. No. It wasn’t mundane. But he couldn’t decide how to handle it until he knew.

  There was a reason, and he needed to know what it was, needed to know more about her. He already knew a disturbing amount—enough to know that if she just disappeared, it would be noticed.

  She wasn’t just a photojournalist—fancy name for a photographer, he figured. She was actually fairly famous in her field. Had enough of a name that she’d be missed. People would notice. He couldn’t risk that.

  If this was a bigger city, he could think she was here to take pictures. If she was a reporter, he could almost imagine she was here to do some sort of story about her cousin’s death. And still, that wasn’t an idea he could discard. Definitely not. A story about that wouldn’t be good. Too much focus on it would be … unpleasant. For him to allow it would be unwise.

  And that was why he was proceeding with caution, because he wasn’t going to do anything that would draw attention back to things now.

  Photojournalists weren’t exactly the biggest names out there from what he could tell, but she was a name—a known one.

  She couldn’t just disappear. Should she die and the circumstances were even remotely suspicious … no. That would be bad. Very bad. He had to be careful here, had to decide if he needed to do anything at all—and unless something had to be done, he’d do nothing. He’d screwed up, and now he had to wait until things settled, had to be cautious. And no more mistakes.

  From the woods, he watched Law Reilly’s house, waited. He didn’t like approaching in the daylight, even from this angle, although he knew nobody would see him, unless they were watching from somewhere in the back of the house.

  Which Reilly could very well be doing.

  Except Nia’s bike was out front. He’d seen her turn in. Had been following her, watching her.

  Finally, he made a decision. He couldn’t keep waiting where he was, in the shade and safety of the trees. He’d come here to evaluate. He needed to do that, or leave.

  Slipping out of the woods, he started for the house, keeping to the corner where he wasn’t as likely to be seen. He also kept at a slow, casual pace, hands tucked in his pockets. Harmless … he was just harmless, and wasn’t out there to cause trouble …

  CHAPTER

  TEN

  IT WAS NEARLY AN HOUR BEFORE THEY MADE IT OUT of the shower and downstairs to the kitchen, where Law put Nia at the island. When she would have climbed off the stool, he pointed and said, “Damn it, stay there. I need food.”

  “You’re cranky.” She smirked at him and slid off anyway. “I was just thinking about getting my clothes. I need a cigarette.”

  He frowned. “Those aren’t good for you.”

  “Gee, really?” She made a face at him. “I know. I just … hell, I stopped years ago. Going to stop again, sooner or later. It’s just this mess with Joely …”

  Law paused and closed the distance between them. He pushed his fingers through her hair. “If you stopped once, you can do it again, then. But do you really think she’d want you poisoning yourself? Not just with the worry, but with the cigarettes, too?”

  “Stop.” She sighed and rubbed her neck. “We’ve had sex a few times—doesn’t mean you get to dictate to me about my health. And I already know this. Now are you making us food or what?”

  “Making food.” He dipped his head and pressed his mouth to hers. “And I’m not trying to dictate. I can’t help that I’m already stupid with how much I think about you. That’s your fault.”

  “Is not.” She scowled at him.

  “Yeah, it is. Has to be. Haven’t ever had anybody else tangle up my head the way you do. So that means it’s your fault.” He nipped her lower lip and moved away, heading back to the fridge. “Now be a good girl and I’ll make us some lunch.”

  “A good girl,” she echoed, chuckling. Then she sighed. “What the hell. I’m hungry, anyway. Didn’t get much in the way of breakfast.”

  “Hard to get a decent breakfast staying at a hotel. And eating at the café every day will get old,” he said, rooting around for the bacon he’d picked up, some tomatoes. He could cook well enough but he hadn’t exactly planned on company—the most he could do was BLTs and some soup. Hopefully that would work.

  If she came back, though, Lena had taught him a few easy things that just might wow a woman. He found himself thinking about making Nia dinner—candlelight. Wine. Yeah, he liked that idea. Liked it a lot.

  “… at the hotel now.”

  “Huh?” He glanced up, realized she’d been talking and he’d been off in his own world. That wasn’t anything new, but it wasn’t like Nia was used to that. Frowning, he dumped the stuff he held onto the counter and said, “Sorry. Got to thinking about something else, didn’t hear you.”

  She lifted a brow and although she didn’t say anything, he c
ould tell she was a little put off.

  “I wasn’t ignoring you,” he said, trying to keep the defensive tone out of his voice. “I was just …”

  “I didn’t say anything,” she said, her voice cool.

  “I know, I was just …” He felt the slow creep of red climbing up his neck and realized with no small amount of humiliation that he was blushing. Ah, hell. Turning around, he started rooting through the cabinets even though it didn’t take five seconds to find what he needed, not with Hope’s meticulous organization. “I … ah, well, all I plan on doing is soup and sandwiches. My mind kind of wanders, and I got to thinking about making you dinner one night. If you’d want to come back out, that is. Started thinking about … I dunno, a date.”

  As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt like the world’s biggest jackass.

  Shit. Grabbing a can of soup, he slammed the cabinet door with a little more force than needed.

  “A date, huh?”

  Her voice came from just an inch or two away.

  Turning around, he leaned against the counter and tried to pretend he was a lot more relaxed than he felt. “Yeah. You know, if you wanted.”

  She’d slipped off the stool and stood close, too close. She was smiling, he realized. A soft smile that hit him straight in the gut, straight in the heart.

  “A date … where you make me dinner.”

  He glanced off past her shoulder, jerked a shoulder in a shrug. “Yeah. I’m no Emeril or anything, but I can cook okay. Lena … ah, Ezra’s wife? She’s a pretty good friend of mine and she’s a chef, taught me a thing or two after she figured out about all I could do was macaroni out of a box and …”

  That was all he managed to get out before she pressed her lips to his.

  It was a quick, easy kiss and then she backed away, leaning against the island and staring at him, still smiling that slow, easy smile.

  “Law, I’ve got to say, that’s probably the sweetest invitation I think I’ve ever had. I’ve never once had a guy offer to make me dinner. Just tell me when—I’m there.”

  Sweet—his blush only got worse and he turned away, hands feeling too big, his throat dry and tight. Hell, she made him feel like he was back in high school. Shit, middle school, when he had a crush on the cute teacher’s assistant—some blond bombshell who wore her sweaters just a little bit too tight. Only this was worse. So much worse.