by Lori Wilde
With a lift of her hips, she’d shimmed out of her suit bottom and wrap, then, straddling him, she unfastened the buttons on his jeans. Her hand found his erection, and within a stroke he’d flopped back on the sand, completely helpless to her needs, like a fish waiting for the surf to take him under.
Thunder rumbled overhead. She moved her hands over his body, up and down, over and across. Kissing him with the same wild urgency, the very elements heard her call as raindrops plopped hard and insistent against their skin.
A storm on the coast gathers and builds as no other place on earth. It draws from land and sea until the water seems to boil with its intensity and the sand on the shore contracts, bracing itself for the onslaught.
She arched her back and glanced at the sky. The rain fell harder, and when her gaze found his again, she was laughing.
“Back pocket,” he managed to gasp.
She found the condom and applied it with haste, then she lifted her hips over his erection and plunged down before he could fully acknowledge the wet onslaught from the heavens.
With an intense rhythm, she pumped her hips against his. His heart raced, seeming to want to jump out of his chest. Her breathing hitched.
Gasping, she climaxed, her inner walls gripping him, urging him to follow. As he instinctively closed his eyes to absorb the spike of pleasure, he buried his hand in the glossy wetness of her hair and brought her face to his. His kiss was grateful and desperate at the same time as he followed her into the glory of completion.
8
THEY RAN through the storm into the house, water dripping everywhere, sand grating in a variety of crevices.
Carr insisted on a shower to warm up and clean up, and Malina could hardly resist. With water dripping off his lashes, his brown eyes full of satisfaction and laughter, she was certainly willing to go with the suggestion.
“You know the only bad thing about you in a bikini?”
“No.”
“I kind of like disarming you.”
He shampooed her hair, then pressed her against the tiled wall, her legs wrapped around his hips.
His erection pressed between them, rocking against her, never entering, teasing her to near madness. He kissed her neck, brought her nipples to painful buds with his thumbs then completed his pleasurable torture by yanking a towel off the rack outside the shower and drying her from head to toe.
Drugged with need, she let her head drop back over his arm as he lifted her and carried her to the bedroom.
She was a slave to the wild desire he inspired. Did he even have to touch her to make her come? Probably not, but his touch was pretty damn amazing, so she wasn’t about to question success.
Lying on his bed, she watched almost in slow motion as he loomed over her. Something primal and possessive flashed in his eyes. When he entered her, it was apparent he’d already taken care of protection.
When he’d done that, she had no idea. He had a way of overwhelming, exciting and caring all at the same time. And never had she been so happy to lose control.
He’d left the windows open, and rain lashed at the glass, spraying through the screens. Lightning flashed in unexpected bursts as the wind howled, tossing the white gossamer drapes back and away from the walls. She was at the center of a maelstrom, one only they could feel but that nature had provided a backdrop for.
Wrapping herself around him mind and body, she met each thrust with the realization that the acceptance she craved was fulfilled in these intimate moments with him. She wanted the building and heightening to go on and on, almost fearing this time would bring even more pleasure than the last, and she’d become dependent. But his skill and their chemistry were too powerful to deny for long. All too soon, the spiral of need deep inside tightened, then burst, casting rhythmic pulses over them both until he collapsed on top of her, his breath coming in satisfied gasps.
“If the storm takes us, at least I’ll die a happy man,” he said after a time, flopping on his back next to her.
She found the energy to pat his bare chest. “Same goes.”
He made her feel fluid and womanly and vulnerable in a way she never had before. She’d never let anyone so close, and the idea of him being the one who could affect her so strongly worried her. They were going in opposite directions; their goals—other than closing this case—weren’t remotely similar.
They could never last.
To distract herself from her troubling thoughts, she glanced around the bedroom. It was somehow warm and modern at the same time. The wood floors were stained a dark cherry, and an antique settee rested in one corner. The walls were pale gray, the bed frame a streamlined polished steel and the comforter light blue.
Through the skylight overhead and the windows along the back wall, the unrelenting rain continued to pound.
An elaborate sword in a glass case, hanging on the wall by the door, attracted her attention. She turned on her side and propped her head in her hand. “Where’d you get the sword?”
“An auction in New York.”
“Any particular reason it attracted your attention?”
“I like swords,” he said, his gaze riveted to the object in question.
“You were a fencer, right?”
“I was.”
It was rare for Carr to be uncommunicative. She wasn’t sure whether he wanted her to be quiet or to leave, or whether he was simply tired.
He seemed to come out of his silent trance and pushed off the bed. “You’re probably getting cold.” He pulled back the bed covers, then swept her up in his arms, sliding her beneath the sheets with all the ease of a father and child’s bedtime ritual.
It was oddly comforting and arousing at the same time.
Joining her, he tucked her against him and kissed the top of her head. “You prefer guns, I guess.”
“Damn straight.”
“They’re cold and not very pretty.”
“They’re functional. Appearance doesn’t apply.”
“You have a Glock nineteen, polymer finish. No stainless steel?”
She snorted. “Flashy. Nobody with any decent skill carries one of those things.”
“But appearance doesn’t apply.”
Caught in her own judgment, she asked, “This relates to swords how?”
He turned his head to meet her gaze. “Have you noticed we’re very different?”
“Have you noticed we have some very unusual conversations?”
“I thought I was the only one who’d realized it.” He returned his attention to the sword. “It’s called a jian, a double-edge sword known in Chinese folklore as the gentleman of weapons. The earliest records have them mentioned as far back as the seventh century BC. This one was made nearly two hundred and fifty years ago. I thought it was historic and lovely, almost mesmerizing.”
“But still deadly.”
“Certainly.” But he frowned, as if he hadn’t considered the brutality of the weapon. “I think of it as elegant.”
“I do, too. I mean, I don’t think I’d hang a gun on the wall of my house as a decoration. It’s a tool I need to do my job effectively, not a piece of art.”
“You don’t have a gun collection?”
“No. Do you have a sword collection?”
“Just the one.”
“Ditto.” She paused, reconsidering. “Well, I do have a clutch piece I used to wear back in my HRT days, but I haven’t carried it in years.”
“Why not?”
“Haven’t needed it,” she said slowly, realizing she’d been so busy chasing high-profile offenders and trying to make a name for herself in the Bureau, she’d stayed off the streets and out of the action in other ways.
She liked investigating, solving the puzzles. She liked the heightened awareness she always experienced in those last moments of tracking down and arresting the subject who’d caused so much turmoil. She was proud of the way her mind and body went eerily calm in the middle of a crisis.
That sense of adventure was what
had drawn her into law enforcement in the first place.
Her marksmanship had simply been the ticket.
But she couldn’t deny she missed HRT. The sheer physicality of the constant training was always a challenge. Keeping mind and body in top shape was essential, and she was skilled at both.
“Still think this is an unusual conversation?” Carr asked.
“Ye—Maybe not. At least not for us. You’re telling me we’re not so different. We just use different methods to get to the same place.”
“Ah…actually, I was trying to point out I’m subtle and you’re obvious.”
“You’re…” She sat bolt upright. “I’m what?”
“Not that obvious is a bad thing,” he hastened to explain. “You look pretty damn cute in your blue suit and sidearm.” “Cute?” She was sure her blood, literally, was on the verge of boiling. “I’ve never been cute at any time in my life.”
“Even when you had braces in middle school?”
“I didn’t have braces.”
“Really? Well, nice teeth, then.” He cleared his throat. “I actually like your assessment of our situation much better than mine. We’re different simply because we go about things in a different way.”
“Exactly.” She narrowed her eyes. “You talk things to death, and I—”
“You stare people down until they crack under the pressure.”
“Now you’re just trying to suck up.”
“Is it working?”
“Not really.”
“Then you must be missing something in the delivery.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and tugged her down to lie alongside him. “You challenge me in ways I’ve never experienced with anyone else. I rarely find myself caught off guard and yet you always surprise me.”
“You do read people well.”
“But you’re a tough one.” He kissed the corner of her mouth, and she breathed in the now familiar sandalwood scent of his skin—so seductive, easily soothing the ragged edges of her temper. “I want to know you, to understand you.”
“As much as you want me naked in your bed?”
“As much as.”
Definitely scary. She’d stepped into completely unfamiliar territory, an area where her training held no power.
She stared into his eyes, dark, probing, unfathomable. And leaped into the abyss. “Then it should be obvious what I need right now.”
CARR WOKE to ringing.
As Malina groped for her cell phone on the bedside table, he commented, “Is this going to be a thing?”
She jabbed him briefly with her elbow before answering, so when he realized the caller was business—obvious by the sudden formal clarity of her voice—he took great delight in placing lingering kisses against her neck and shoulders while she talked.
He was entirely annoyed, however, when he heard the words “I’ll be right there,” which caused him to clutch her back tighter against his chest.
Their stormy, sensual night couldn’t be ending. The reality of the case they’d yet to solve, the possibility that she’d—again—find a reason to pull away from him wasn’t something he wanted to face.
He was in serious trouble with this woman.
“Do you have any idea who that was?” she asked as she sat up and snapped the phone closed.
Not only didn’t he know, he didn’t much care. It seemed selfishness wasn’t an impulse that could be easily cast aside. “Do you? I was hoping my distraction was actually distracting you.”
“The freakin’ mayor.”
“Harvey?”
She nudged his shoulder before leaping from the bed. “Not yours, Counselor. Mine.” Naked, she strode into the bathroom. “Well, mine for now.”
Carr buried his face in his pillow. After his blundered attempt last night to get her to talk about their differences, which was supposed to lead to a discussion of their future and feelings, he hardly needed a reminder that she was only his temporary lover.
When he heard the shower running, he knew his fantasy of making love, followed by omelets and a bare-skin swim in his heated pool was just that.
Rolling out of the bed, he snagged his pants off the floor and put them on before walking into the bathroom.
She was already in the shower.
He literally clenched his fists at his sides to keep from reaching for the shower door and joining her. “It’s Sunday morning. Doesn’t he have babies to kiss, lies to tell and preachers to impress?”
“Probably. But his dog is lost. Again, I might add.”
Carr, his mind supplying vivid images of Malina’s amazing body under the stream of hot water barely two feet away, braced his forehead against the wall and fought for control. “His dog?”
“Pooky. The family Maltese. He’s been kidnapped before, so the kids are a mess.” She paused, then the water shut off and the towel hanging over the shower door disappeared. “Seriously, they couldn’t possibly have hired another dog walker with a record, could they?”
“I, for one, have no idea. But I’m about to make it my mission in life to be sure they never do again.”
The shower door popped open, and Malina’s head poked out. A fog of hot air billowed around her. She’d piled her hair on top of her head, but her face and body were dewy with steam.
He closed his eyes. The things he did for his soul’s respectability.
She grabbed him and kissed him at the base of his throat, then wrapped the towel around her body. “You should come. You charm everybody within miles, and a puffy white dog shouldn’t be a stretch to find.”
“Can I ask a very obvious question?”
“Ha,” she said as she stood at the bathroom sink and pawed through her bag. “I thought you were the subtle one.”
“How can I charm a dog that’s missing?”
Pausing in the process of applying mascara, she looked at his reflection in the mirror. “No, you’re charming the kids—twins, a boy and a girl. You know, good cop, bad cop.”
“You’re the bad cop, I take it.”
“Definitely,” she said, snagging her suit off the hanger she’d hooked to the towel rack the night before.
All in all, he preferred the blue bikini, but she was inviting him along on this odd quest and, by definition, inviting him into her life, so he’d be crazy to argue.
“Why are we doing the good cop, bad cop routine with a couple of kids?” he asked as they climbed in her car a few minutes later.
“Because they kidnapped the dog.”
“You think so?”
“Pretty sure. Their parents are fighting. There was a rumor of their dad cheating, which I personally think is crap, but they decided to take drastic action. A lot of attention focused on them, the family gathered around, sticking together to find sweet little Pooky—it’s a pretty smart way to have some family-bonding time, if you think about it.
“Anyway, I gave them my card and cell phone number when I found the dog the first time, so—”
“Hang on.” Carr held up his hand. “The first time you found him? You solved the case of the mayor’s kidnapped dog?”
“Yeah. The dog walker did it. Though that butler did have some beady eyes, so I kept a close watch on him, too.”
Carr remembered reading about the feel-good story in the newspaper. The FBI had been called in, and the case had been solved within hours. Now he knew why the agent in charge had refused to be interviewed for the story. “Sort of a step down from interrogating a SEC-violating senator’s son, wouldn’t you say?”
She winced. “Thanks for reminding me.”
“So you want to explain why you’re so happy to save little Pooky again?”
“Hey, I might have suffered great humiliation in front of my shortsighted colleagues, but having the mayor on my side can only be a good thing. Besides, it’ll be fun.” Looking gleeful, she exited the Ravenel bridge and headed into downtown Charleston. “Interrogating a couple of ten-year-olds, causing a scene in the neighborhood. I can’t think of any bet
ter way to spend a Sunday morning.”
“I can.”
“Men,” she sighed, “always thinking with their penises.”
“I didn’t hear many complaints from you last night.”
Smiling, she glanced over at him. “Good point.”
Carr might have wanted sex, but he knew when to play the cards he’d been dealt. While the mayor and his family were bonding, Carr would be doing some bonding of his own. The fact that Malina trusted him enough to bring him into her work without him having to beg, cajole or insist was definitely a positive sign for their relationship.
When they turned off King Street into the gated driveway of the mayor’s historical three-story mansion, complete with impressive Venetian-style palazzi at each level, it was apparent that he hadn’t called the cops or the press this time. After all, one dog-napping was a feel-good story, but a second was an embarrassment.
The security detail met them at the gate, checked their IDs, then allowed Malina to park before they were escorted to a side door.
Just inside, Mayor Don Parnell paced the hall in a rumpled charcoal suit. “Thank goodness you’re here, Agent Blair.” The mayor shook Malina’s hand, then his tired gaze moved to Carr. “And Mr. Hamilton, good to see you again.”
“Carr happened to be with me when your call came in, sir,” Malina explained as the security guards closed the door behind them.
The mayor nodded. “Excellent. He helped out First Presbyterian last year when some jerk staged a fall down the front steps, then tried to sue the church for ten million dollars. Mr. Hamilton cleared the whole thing up nicely.”
At Malina’s impressed glance, Carr nodded modestly. His charity knew no bounds—and it shouldn’t, according to Sister Mary Katherine. Still, he didn’t think it was wrong to take some credit in front of the woman he was trying to romance.
“It’s hard to believe we’re back in this position so soon,” Parnell continued. “My wife is a wreck.”
“And the kids?” Malina asked.
“They can barely stop crying, and they won’t let my wife and me out of their sight. They’re afraid one of us is going to be next.”
