by Rachel Grant
“Ask about last night, too.”
“You’re exhausted and under a lot of stress. I understand why you think you saw him but he wasn’t there. Listen, it’s two in the morning and we both need to get some sleep. I’m taking you to my place.”
“Is this a ploy to get me into your bed?”
“I’m not above capitalizing on what happened.” He nipped her ear.
She chuckled.
“Seriously, I have a guest bedroom. But if you’d be more comfortable here, I can sleep on the couch.”
“Your place is fine. Let me get some things for tomorrow.” She was halfway to the staircase when she stopped. “I need to take a shower. I still smell like gasoline. I have to get this smell off.”
“Go ahead.”
She washed as quickly as possible. She wanted to get away from the house. Her anxiety to leave increased with every moment. Frustration filled her when she couldn’t find her hairbrush. It was probably in the downstairs bathroom, which was next to the kitchen. She used a comb instead and dressed quickly in a T-shirt and jeans. At least now she smelled like soap, not gasoline.
They arrived at Mark’s house at two thirty in the morning. He lived near Main Street, a small two-story house in a neighborhood of matching homes. The stillness of the night led to the fanciful notion that they were the only people for miles. She followed him up the front walkway, momentarily distracted by the beauty of the clear, cool, silent night.
How close had she come to not having this moment?
A shooting star streaked across the sky, stopping her in her tracks. “Did you see that? We should make a wish.”
“You’re fine. Alive, uninjured. What more could I possibly want?”
His words caused something in Libby to break. She reached out, pulled him to her, and kissed him. A hot, hard, open-mouthed kiss that held nothing back. She needed to feel something, anything, everything.
He pulled her to the porch and somehow unlocked the front door without breaking the kiss. They stumbled into the entryway. He closed the door and dropped his keychain and her overnight bag on the floor. She dropped her purse and began pulling apart the buttons on his shirt. Her mouth followed her hands and explored his muscular chest. She tugged his shirt out of his pants, and then traced the straps of the shoulder holster that made removing the garment impossible.
“I’ve never had sex with a man wearing a gun before.”
“Does it excite you?”
“In the strangest way. But how do we get it off? I want to feel your skin against mine.”
He removed the weapon and shirt, dropping them to the floor next to her overnight bag, and then he pulled her T-shirt over her head and tossed it over his shoulder. He reached out and cupped her bra. “Green. You’re messing up my theory. Your shirt was gray.”
She glanced at her satin bra. “I don’t bother matching T-shirts—”
His fingers covered her lips. “Don’t tell me. I’m going to figure out your system on my own.” His lips trailed along the exposed skin of her breasts. He looked up. “I like green. The color matches your eyes.”
His thumbs traced her nipples under the satin bra, causing them to stiffen. He followed the edge of the fabric with his mouth, but went no further. Her nipples begged for his attention. She let out a soft plea.
He looked up at her. His clear blue eyes touched something deep inside her. Making her aware that her intense arousal matched his. They’d only just begun foreplay, and yet she was ready for him. But then, she’d been ready since Tuesday.
She reached down and traced the outline of his erection. Her eyes closed as she imagined the feel of his hard length inside her. His tongue swept across her bare nipple and she grabbed his biceps for support as her knees buckled.
Without taking his mouth from her breast, he guided her to the entryway bench. He moved the fabric aside from her other breast and sucked on her aching nipple while she grasped his hair.
His hands slid over her, cupping her butt and pulling her against him. His erection pressed against the inside of her thigh. She shifted so he pressed against her center and pulled him to her for a scorching kiss.
She found his fly and undid the buttons and then reached inside and slid her hand down his hard length, smiling with satisfaction as he growled low in his throat.
“I have condoms in my purse.” She reached for her bag. Without moving from her position, she fished out the foil packet and set it on the bench. “Simone loaded me up before our date.”
He laughed. “Bless her.” He reached for the button on her jeans and deftly removed her pants, smiling at the sight of her green panties. “Do all of your bras have matching underwear?”
“Most do.”
He groaned. “And the red one?”
“You’ll find out.”
She slid his pants over his butt and down his legs. He kicked them aside. She pulled down on the elastic waistband of his boxer shorts. In moments, he stood naked before her.
She paused to stare at him. She’d had a pretty good idea of his build from the several times she’d been in his arms, but now she could see for herself he was perfect. His skin was smooth and taut over muscular shoulders and arms. His chest had a light covering of dark hair. His flat belly boasted well-defined abdominal muscles. She mentally compared him to Michelangelo’s David, for the first time in her life thinking Michelangelo had a few things to learn about the male form. Her throat was dry as she rasped, “You’re beautiful.”
“Not nearly as beautiful as you are. And as sexy as your underwear is, it’s in my way.” He dispensed with her bra and then knelt on the floor in front of the bench and gave her nipples the attention she craved while his hands worked her underwear down her thighs and tossed them aside.
His touch made her ravenous. She tugged at his shoulders until he stood, and then she slid her tongue down his abdomen, following the line of hair from his navel. She looked up and made eye contact with him as she took him in her mouth. His eyes smoldered, a dark, hot blue. He groaned as she sucked and took him deeper, and then repeated the strokes, reveling in his taste, the feel of him against her tongue.
He threaded his fingers in her hair and gently slid from her mouth. “Later I want to come that way, but not this time.”
He nudged her onto the bench. She barely noticed the cold wood against her bare butt as he spread her legs, dropped down between her thighs, and tasted her. The stroke of his tongue brought forth electrical surges of pleasure. Intense. Hot. She panted as he pushed her closer and closer to an explosive orgasm. She pulled back, dizzy with pleasure and wanting to feel him inside her.
He kissed along her torso as he shifted his position, his lips joining hers as his hips settled between her thighs. With a groping hand, she managed to find the condom. She ripped open the package and slid the circle of latex over him.
With one thrust he filled her, completed her. She was so aroused, she felt sparks of orgasm with the first intense stroke. She kissed him as she wrapped her legs around him, taking him deep.
He groaned and trailed his lips along her throat to her breast, where his tongue teased her nipple and then his teeth gently tugged at the taut peak. She made a noise in the back of her throat, the sensation of his hot length inside her and his mouth on her breast a potent combination that brought her to the edge.
She felt absolutely wild. He kissed her again, his tongue sliding along hers in time to his thrusts. His movements slowed.
“Don’t stop,” she panted the words. “We can go slower later.”
He laughed, “Later? Woman, how old do you think I am? Eighteen?”
She orgasmed before she could answer. A powerful, shattering sensation that lasted and lasted. He dropped over the same edge, and he pulled her tightly to him as he came.
Spent, he dropped soft kisses along her throat. She enjoyed the weight and feel of him as their heartbeats gradually slowed and speech became possible again. “I’m not sure how old you are Mark, but I’m thirty-three. I’m at my s
exual peak. You’ll have to try to keep up with me.”
“I’m thirty-eight. My peak occurred about twenty years ago—when I was way too young to appreciate it. If you don’t kill me, keeping up with you will be my pleasure.”
“I’ll try to be gentle with you.”
He laughed. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever had a wish granted so quickly.”
“But you didn’t make a wish.”
“Well, there was one thing I wanted.”
“Then we both wished for the same thing.” She glanced around. “Nice house.”
“Believe it or not, there’s more to it than a foyer.”
“Please tell me that somewhere beyond this entryway there’s a bedroom.”
He stood and lifted her off the bench. “With a king-sized bed.”
He carried her upstairs, impressing her to no end. Once in his bedroom, he tossed her onto his bed, and climbed up after her, his naked body sliding against hers, his lips trailing along her skin until his mouth reached hers. “You look even better in my bed than I imagined.”
“Everything about you is better than I imagined.”
“Does that make me exceptional or were your expectations low?”
She reached between them and wrapped her fingers around his cock and slid her hand up and down the shaft. “You are, without a doubt, exceptional.”
She explored him, with hands and mouth, somewhat amazed at her lack of inhibitions with him. This freedom in her sexuality was new. She trusted him in a profound way. He was right. Together they could fly.
He pushed her backward on the bed and took over the job of exploring. She told him exactly what she liked, how he made her feel, as he discovered all the secrets of her body. Eventually he settled his head between her thighs. She continued talking right up until she was on the brink, and then she stopped mid-word as she was rocked by another powerful orgasm.
Afterward, he said, “I thought you were going to be able to talk all the way through your orgasm.”
She flushed and he captured her face between his hands. “I loved everything you said. You’re so damn sexy, I nearly came while going down on you.” He kissed her.
“Really?”
“I love the fact you aren’t afraid to tell me what you want.” He kissed her again. His voice was husky as he said, “Sexual peak, huh? You up for another round?”
She pushed him back on the bed and straddled him. “Where do you keep your condoms?”
“There’s a box in the nightstand.”
“I hope you have a big box.”
“I think there are a dozen.”
“That’s not nearly enough.”
He closed his eyes as he sank back into the pillow. She slipped a new condom on his erection. Slowly, she took him inside her again.
“I think you just may kill me,” he muttered.
CHAPTER TWENTY
AT TEN THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Mark hung up the phone. The DNA results were conclusive. There was a ninety-nine point nine percent likelihood that the bones were Angela Caruthers. He was scheduled to interview Jack at eleven thirty.
He looked back at the bed, where Libby lay sleeping. Sunlight spilled in from the east-facing window, giving her skin a golden glow. He hadn’t wanted to rush this, their first morning together, but he didn’t have a choice.
He slid back in bed next to her and gathered her in his arms. She opened her eyes. “’Bout time you woke up, lazybones,” he said.
“Good morning,” she said with a sleep-saturated smile. She ran a fingertip along the edge of his pectoral muscle. “You look delicious.”
“That’s ’cause I got laid last night.” He nipped her neck and worked his way to her earlobe. “How ’bout you? Do you always look this good in the morning?”
“No. My skin has a four-orgasm glow today.”
“Only four? I’m going to have to work harder.” He reached into the nightstand and grabbed a condom.
He made love to her slowly, silently, her gasps of pleasure as he woke her body and mind the only sound in the room. He was ass over teakettle crazy for this woman. And it wasn’t the sex—although that was nothing short of spectacular—it was Libby and her intelligent eyes, her forthright manner, her passion for her work, her courage in her convictions, and, of course, her sexy underwear.
He’d failed her last night. He’d left her in jeopardy and she could have paid for his mistake with her life. He didn’t know if he would ever be able to forgive himself.
His mouth captured the sounds of her coming as her body shuddered in climax. His orgasm followed. An intense wave of pleasure, his relief was both physical and emotional.
Afterward, they lay in a spooning position while his hand stroked along her hip. “I have to leave for work soon.”
“I should get some work done today, too. But frankly, I don’t even care about the project at the moment.” She rolled over and faced him. “I wish we could just pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist.”
“You can. Stay here today. Get some rest,” he grinned, “because when I get home, you’re going to need your energy.” He slid his fingers through her hair, and then tightened his grip and pulled her to him for a deep—but too-brief—kiss. “I’ll try to be back by six. I’m taking tomorrow off. Sunday, too, if I can.”
“If I’m going to take the weekend off, I’d better work today. I’ve got a report to write, interviews to transcribe. Can you drop me at Simone’s so I can get the Suburban?”
“Sure. We’ve got twenty minutes to get ready.”
She climbed out of bed. “Shower with me?”
“And another wish comes true.” He followed her into the bathroom.
“You saw another shooting star last night?”
“No, I held one in my arms.”
She stopped and faced him. “You better watch it. You say things like that and I’m going to fall in love with you.”
His heartbeat sped up. “Maybe that’s my plan.” He knew it was early to talk about love but he wasn’t interested in playing games.
She laced her fingers through his. “Then I don’t stand a chance.”
He pulled her against him and kissed her. He couldn’t seem to get enough of kissing her.
After a moment, she pulled away and turned to the shower. “You only gave me twenty minutes.”
“Will you go back to the Shelby house today?” he asked.
She paused. “I should. It’ll be worse if I put it off, but I’m not going there alone.” A small shudder passed through her and guilt jabbed at him. “Not today, anyway. I’ve got enough materials at the site to work on, plus I need to talk to Simone. She’s going to kill me for not calling her last night and telling her what happened.”
“Tell her you were in good hands.”
She took his hands and pulled him into the shower with her. “I was in excellent hands.”
HE WATCHED LIBBY FOLLOW the police chief down the front walkway and climb into the cop car. Before starting the engine, the chief kissed her. A long, lingering kiss that would have told him they were lovers if he hadn’t known already.
His failed attack last night had pushed them together. Dammit. Another five minutes and Libby would have been locked in the tool shed. The Molotov cocktail would have taken care of the house, and he’d have been long gone before the fire was under control and anyone even found Libby.
The house would have been destroyed and with the evidence he’d left, Libby would have been blamed. If the fire ended up destroying the shed and killing Libby, then she would have been considered a victim of her own mental illness, her twisted desire for attention. She’d be dead and his worries would be over.
Now the police chief and the archaeologist were lovers. He needed to destroy the trust between them. He already had the pieces in place. The question was: would Colby follow the clues?
SIMONE WAS RELIEVED to see the Suburban pull up to the site just before noon. Libby didn’t come home last night. She assumed Libby stayed wit
h the police chief. Worry hadn’t set in until she wasn’t able to reach her this morning. She finished her notes and then tucked her trowel in her pocket and climbed out of the unit. “Wrap up what you’re working on, everyone,” she called out. “Lunch starts in five.”
She left the crew and joined Libby inside the RV. A grin spread across Libby’s face as Simone pulled the door shut. “You got laid last night.”
“Repeatedly.”
“Hallelujah! So, is there something going on between you two, or are you just a slut?”
Libby laughed. “There is definitely something going on. I’m crazy about him, and he seems to feel the same way.”
“He’d better, or I’ll have him neutered. Oh, God, Libby. I’m really happy for you.” She walked to the coffeemaker and poured a cup of boiled down sludge, and then poured the thick burnt liquid down the drain and began brewing a fresh pot. “I’ve been worried.”
“I’m sorry. I slept in.” Libby’s eyes turned serious. “I had a close call last night.”
“Explain.”
They ate their lunch together while Libby told her what had gone on the previous night. Simone rubbed her eyes as she took in all the details. She tried to make sense of the attack. “You were zapped by a Taser. Was it your own?”
“I have no idea,” Libby said, surprise in her voice. “Mark didn’t tell me if he found mine in my purse.” She searched her bag. “It’s not here. I wonder what that means?”
“Can they test to see if yours was fired?”
“I think so. And my blood would be on the barbs.”
Simone stirred her yogurt, not really paying attention to the food in front of her. Libby could have burned to death. Aaron was a sick prick and she was going to make him pay.
“Something else you should know. The bones we found were Angela Caruthers. Mark told Jack and Jason last night.”
Jason—the name alone hit her like a bee sting; said with Jack’s name and she nearly suffered an anaphylaxis-type reaction. The fact EAC’s excavation found Angela seemed like a cruel irony. “How did Jason take the news?” she asked.
“He’s worried about Jack, worried that he’ll be arrested for murdering Angela.”
