She couldn’t stop them—they were an involuntary response to the cool air against her skin, and the heat of his gaze, and the electrical charge between them as the moment unfolded. He stretched out beside her, tracing his finger from her lips to her sternum and down over her belly button to the last remaining scrap of fabric she wore.
She feathered her fingers through his hair, watching his eyes move over her along with his hand. His touch sent warm shivers through her, and mixed with the nerves, it was like he’d flipped a switch inside her and made her whole body start to vibrate. She wanted to tell him, but she didn’t know how to describe the feeling. Anyway, he could probably see the effect he was having on her because he was right there beside her with his thigh pressed against hers.
She looked up into his eyes and smiled.
He kissed her. It was soft at first, but then he eased onto her, and everything intensified. She stroked her hands over his back and felt his muscles ripple under her touch. She loved his body. His mouth. She loved the weight of him pressing her into the cushions and the scent of his hot skin. She hooked her leg around him, pulling him against her until it hurt. She slid her hand between them and ran her fingers over his zipper, and he pushed himself against her hand.
“Sean?” She unsnapped his jeans and dipped her fingers inside to stroke his hard length. He moaned against her neck, and she pulled her hand away. “Sean, I don’t have anything.”
He pulled back, looking dazed, and then his eyes locked on hers. “Be right back.” He kissed her and quickly got to his feet. She watched as he disappeared down the hallway, leaving her alone.
Reality swept over her. She glanced around the dim room. She was in Sean’s house. On his sofa and almost naked. She heard the faint sound of a drawer opening and closing as she waited for him, barely able to breathe. Her heart was racing out of control, and her limbs were trembling, even her hands. Was she having a panic attack? Was that even possible right now, when she was so turned on? Maybe her body was trying to tell her she was making a mistake.
Anxiety washed over her. She didn’t have to go through with this. It was late in the game to change her mind, but she knew he’d respect what she wanted.
Him. That’s what she wanted. She felt nervous and excited and even a bit terrified of what this might do to their relationship, but she wanted him. And when his dark silhouette appeared in the hallway, all the anxiety faded in comparison to how much she wanted him.
He’d gotten rid of his clothes except for black boxer briefs, and she admired his body again as he dropped a strip of condoms on the table and lowered himself over her.
He kissed her, brushing her hair away from her face. “You all right?”
“Yeah.”
He looked her in the eye. “You sure?”
“Yes. Find what you needed?”
“Oh, yeah.”
She kissed him to prove she was fine, and they picked up right where they’d left off before her flurry of doubts. She stroked her hands over his hard muscles, down the indention of his spine, over his hips. She dipped her fingers into the back of his waistband and pulled him close.
He rolled onto his side and slid his hand down her body and between her legs, and she felt a hot rush of desire. When he cupped his hand over her, she nearly shot off the couch.
“Sean—”
He kissed her, pressing against her as she squirmed and moaned. Then he shifted to sit up. With one smooth motion, he lifted her onto his lap and helped her straddle him, then started kissing her neck and her breasts.
His hands glided up her back as he held her close, and she tipped her head back as he kissed her and lavished more attention on her breasts than she’d ever thought possible. His fingers slid down between her legs, and she rolled her hips against him.
“Take these off.” She pushed at his shorts.
He did as she asked, and she wrapped her arms around him as she heard the tear of the condom wrapper. Then she lifted her hips. He reached between her legs to move the silk aside and guided her onto him, entering her body with a deep thrust that left her breathless.
“You okay?”
She moved her legs, trying to get comfortable.
“Brooke?” His voice was strained as she shifted her weight.
“Yes. Like that.”
He clasped her hips and moved her against him as he kissed her mouth. She arched into him, loving the friction where their bodies were joined. He pulled her even closer, and the rasp of his chest against her breasts nearly sent her over the edge.
“Sean.” She surged against him again and again, and the sensation of him filling her was so impossibly good that she felt her control slipping. “Sean.”
She clutched her arms around him as everything shattered. He held her through the aftershocks, then she slumped against his shoulder.
He brushed her hair back from her face and looked at her, smiling.
“Sorry. Couldn’t wait.”
“Good.” He kissed her. Then he lifted her off his lap, lowered her back onto the cushions, and finally pulled the last scrap of silk off her body before settling between her legs. She draped her arms over his shoulders and closed her eyes as she braced herself for the next part, and he pushed into her with one hard stroke.
Brooke wrapped her legs around him, and they moved together, finding a rhythm again. She’d thought she was done, but when she opened her eyes to look up at him, the raw male desire she saw in his face made her hot all over again, and a whole new tension started to burn and build inside her.
She closed her eyes and tipped her head back.
“Brooke, look at me.”
She did.
He took her hands and stretched them over her head and held her gaze as he drove into her over and over, until she thought she’d scream. Then she did scream, and he came into her with a powerful thrust and collapsed against her.
Silent seconds ticked by as she lay dizzy. He was heavy and crushing her, and she didn’t care at all as she traced her hands over his strong back. In all her life, she’d never felt like this. Ever. She couldn’t form a thought. Or utter a word.
Her mind was blown.
• • •
Callie ended her week the same way she’d started it. Working.
She jammed a stack of paperwork into her bag and headed out of the bull pen, giving a wave to the officer manning the phones tonight. He’d been leaving the station to go home when she’d arrived this morning.
Pathetic.
Callie trekked through the drizzle to her Jeep, pondering when, exactly, her life had gotten so out of whack. Not so long ago she’d had interests outside of work. Hobbies. A social life. But all of those things had more or less disappeared in the year since she’d earned her detective’s shield. Not that she wasn’t glad for the promotion—she’d busted her ass for it, and she loved her job. But sometimes she wished she had something in her life besides work. Such as a hot guy to keep her company on a cold and rainy night.
Ah, pipe dreams. She needed to focus on reality—such as what she planned to eat tonight, because she was going home with a growling stomach to an empty fridge. Delivery or carryout? She checked her watch. Delivery was her only option unless she wanted to swing by the grocery store.
What the hell. Nothing like a late-night trip through the produce section to lift her mood.
Callie got into her Jeep and tossed her stuff onto the passenger seat. She started up the engine as a faint chirp sounded from the depths of her bag. She dug out her phone and spotted Gabe’s number. Her nerves skittered.
Be careful what you wish for, she told herself as she swiped her thumb over the screen to read his text.
Wazzup girl?
She hadn’t heard from him in months, but she knew exactly what he wanted, and a teeny, tiny part of her wanted it, too.
Working, she replied.
When do u get off?
Her body tingled at the words. Gabe wasn’t exactly subtle, so she was probably imagini
ng the innuendo, but still.
Later, she typed, lying right through her fingertips.
Can i c u?
Callie muttered a curse. What should she tell him? He was persistent, and with good reason. She’d caved in to him before.
Gabe was a personal trainer and he was beyond gorgeous. Not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, as her grandfather would say. But in the looks department? Wow. Not to mention he was very skilled in certain areas.
But, Callie had decided to move on. She’d decided she was tired of shallow and short-term.
???
Not 2nite.
Ur killing me.
“Crap.” She should call him and get it over with, or he’d be pinging her all night.
He answered on the first ring. “Heeeey, Callie girl.”
“Hey.”
“I was just thinking about you.”
“Listen, I’m working tonight.”
“When do you get done?”
“Late.”
“Late’s good.”
“Tonight’s not, though.”
“For real?”
“I’ve been working all weekend and I’m whipped.”
He made a low groan, and she ignored it.
“I’m really tired, you know? My job’s been crazy lately.”
“Yeah, okay. Whatever. Call me if you change your mind.”
He hung up, and she stared down at the phone, wondering if she’d made a mistake. She hadn’t. This was good. This was mature. What she had with Gabe definitely qualified as shallow, and she needed to move on.
She shoved her Jeep in gear, more depressed than ever about the prospect of going home to an empty house and a stack of paperwork. When her cell chimed, she snatched it up.
“Gabe, seriously, come on.”
Silence. She glanced down at the phone, and her stomach lurched.
“Detective McLean?”
The voice was low and masculine, but it definitely wasn’t Gabe’s.
“This is her. She.” She cleared her throat. “I’m Detective McLean.”
“This is Travis Cullen at the Delphi Center crime lab. I’m calling to notify you that we’ve completed our work and your evidence is ready for pickup.”
“Um . . . okay. You know it’s eleven o’clock, right?”
“I was told this was urgent. Someone in your department put a rush on it?”
“That would be me.”
“Well, I rushed it.” He sounded annoyed with her.
She felt a twinge of guilt that he’d clearly spent his Sunday working. But, hey, she’d been working, too, so what did she have to feel guilty about?
“I need to go over my findings. I can meet you here at the lab tomorrow at 0800.”
“Sounds fine.”
“See you then.” He clicked off.
Callie stared down at the phone, replaying the conversation and the deep, authoritative tone of his voice.
Tomorrow at 0800.
Something told her she shouldn’t be late.
• • •
Brooke lay on her side with Sean’s arm draped over her waist. The living room was drafty, but his body was keeping her warm.
She looked at him over her shoulder. His eyes were closed, but she knew he wasn’t asleep.
“Sean?”
“Hmm.”
“Do you think they’re safe?” She didn’t have to explain whom she meant.
“Yes.” He opened his eyes. “Why?”
She turned away and stared into the dimness of his living room. “I still feel like it’s my fault that whoever it was found them there.”
His arm tightened around her. “Don’t.” He heaved a sigh. “You’re not responsible for all the shit people do. That’s on them.”
He wasn’t only talking about the shooting today. Something in his tone told her he meant Matt, too. She couldn’t believe she’d told Sean everything, even the things she’d never told her girlfriends. Why had she done it? She’d always wanted Sean’s respect, but now he knew that she’d allowed her long-term boyfriend to walk all over her.
She closed her eyes. They were so different, Sean and Matt. How had she ever lumped them together merely because they shared the same profession? Matt was rigid and controlling and had to be right all the time. At the heart of it, that was what most of their fights had been about—his being too insecure to admit when he was wrong, even when he made a simple mistake. Everything was always Brooke’s fault.
She felt a wave of guilt. Here she was cuddled up naked with Sean, and she was thinking about Matt. It wasn’t right, and the fact that her brain was jumbled with all these thoughts reinforced what she’d known all along, which was that it was too soon for her to get involved with someone new. Her life was spinning. Everything felt out of control, and she hated feeling that way. Tears burned her eyes and she squeezed them shut.
Sean kissed her shoulder. “What’s wrong? You got all tense.”
“Nothing.”
He went still. “Are you crying?”
She didn’t answer. He rolled onto his back and pulled her against him.
“Sorry.” She sniffled, furious with herself for doing this right now.
“It’s no big deal.” He shifted so her head was cradled on his biceps. “I’ve got four sisters. Tears do not scare me.”
She wiped them off her cheeks before they could leak onto him. “I’m not usually like this. I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight.”
“Well, let’s see . . . you’re stressed at work. Someone almost killed you today. I dragged you out with me and made you dredge up a bunch of bad stuff from a relationship you’re still grieving over—”
“I’m not sorry it’s over.”
“Yeah, but it lasted two years, right? That has to hurt.”
She nestled her head against his chest, liking the deep sound of his voice against her ear. “Have you ever been in a relationship that long?”
“No, I’m just guessing.” His hand rested on her abdomen, sending a warm shiver through her. “And then there’s this thing happening right now. Pretty intense, huh?”
“Yes.”
“So, your whole day has been emotional overload. It would shake up anyone.”
She sighed. “How can you be so understanding?”
“I told you. Sisters. They were a pain in the ass growing up, but I guess something useful rubbed off on me.”
“You’re a good listener.”
“Thank you.”
Brooke discovered she felt better. Again.
He kept his hand on her stomach, and she closed her eyes, listening to the steady thrum of his heart. It felt so good to be held like this at the end of a terrible day. Or—she imagined—at the end of any day. She felt a pang of longing that was becoming familiar. She wished her life weren’t such a mess right now.
“It’s late,” she said quietly. “I should go.”
“Stay awhile.”
She bit her lip. “That’s probably not a good idea.”
“I think it’s a great idea. Does my opinion count for anything?” His tone was light, which came as a relief. The last thing she wanted to do right now was hurt his feelings.
“If I stay we’ll fall asleep. I’ll end up spending the night, and that’ll just . . .”
He shifted to sit up on his elbow. “What?”
“Confuse things.” She studied his face in the dimness, hoping her words wouldn’t upset him. But he didn’t look upset, he looked perfectly calm. “Today was crazy. Everything. But fundamentally, nothing is different. I still don’t want to get tangled up in anything.”
He stroked his hand down to her hip, making her breasts tighten. “Can I ask you something?”
She nodded.
“Do you feel good right now, after what we just did?”
“Yes.”
“Did you have fun?”
“Yes. Obviously.”
He smiled. “Then what’s confusing? We’re two people who happen to like
each other and we’re having some fun together.”
“Oh, yeah?” She tried to match his lighthearted tone. “What makes you so sure I like you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the way you were screaming my name a minute ago?”
Her cheeks flushed at the reminder. “I’m serious. I’m really worried about this, and you act like it’s so simple.”
“It is simple. We can keep things casual. No pressure.”
“Yeah, right.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“I don’t believe me. I’ve never been good at casual. I tend to analyze things and fixate on potential problems.”
“Well, don’t.”
“I can’t help it. That’s why I’m good at my job. I analyze everything to death and I stress out all the time.”
His hand slid from her hip up to her ribs, trailing fire along the way. “You know, I’ve got something for that.” He kissed her mouth. Then her neck. Then her collarbone.
“What?”
He cupped her breast in his hand and toyed with it, knowing full well how sensitive she was. “The perfect stress relief.” His gaze held hers as he moved down her body. “Better than hot yoga.”
“That’s big talk.”
“It’s true.”
Apprehension swept through her because she knew exactly where he was going with this, and she wasn’t comfortable. He kissed her sternum, then hovered over her navel. He traced his tongue over it and she tried to clamp her thighs together, but he held her still.
“Relax.”
“Sean—”
“Please?”
She leaned her head back and did just what he asked, giving herself over to the heat of his mouth and the exploration of his hands, even though it wasn’t relaxing at all—it was maddening. Every stroke of his tongue and his fingers made her more and more desperate for something just out of reach.
How had he done it so soon? How had he zeroed in on her exact pleasure points when everything was new between them? He’d somehow become an expert at how to kiss her and touch her and coax her into sharing every part of herself. She couldn’t think about how he’d done it because she was quickly losing the ability to think at all, and the pressure built and built until she couldn’t stand it and she needed him with her.
Touch of Red Page 15
