Seconds to Live (Scarlet Falls)

by Melinda Leigh

  “Are you sure?” Mac couldn’t believe he asked the question. The woman of his dreams was getting naked in his bedroom and he was practically telling her she should reconsider her decision. He was a moron.

  “I’m sure.” Stella shook out her hair. It fell around her shoulders in a dark, tousled wave. Hairpins dropped to the floor.

  “You’re positive I’m not just a distraction?” Damn his conscience. And ego.

  In the past, he wouldn’t have cared. He would have been happy to provide the release of her pent-up frustration. If she hadn’t wanted to see him again, he wouldn’t have cared.

  But this was Stella, literally the woman of his dreams. The first woman he craved conversation with as much as sex.

  Who would have thought that would ever happen? Not him.

  It was a freaking miracle.

  And yet it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t satisfied being with her simply because his body ached for her. This thing between them had to be equal. He wanted Stella to need him just as much as he needed her. If he was going to let himself be vulnerable, to give her power over him, then she had to do the same.

  He wanted her pulse to thud in her ears like a bass drum. Her blood to rush as hot as lava through her veins. For every cell in her body to yearn for him. He wanted to be the man she chose above all others.

  She opened the second button on her blouse.

  Enough with the biology lesson, Mac. Woman getting naked here.

  Mesmerized, Mac stared as she flicked a third button, then a fourth. The fabric parted, revealing the swell of her breasts. He licked his lips, dying for a taste of that smooth skin.

  Button number five.

  White satin and lace. That’s what she’d been hiding under that up-tight, mannish blouse. All. Day. Long. Hell, she probably wore sexy, feminine silk against her skin all the time.

  Any blood remaining in Mac’s brain flowed south with the power of the Amazon.

  She stood for a minute, letting him look. Breasts swelled over white lace. Flat abs tempted him to lick his way . . .

  She moved on to her cuffs, seemingly content to continue her striptease, but Mac couldn’t wait any longer. He was going to implode if he didn’t get his hands on her. In two steps, he was standing in front of her, their bodies inches apart. The animal in him wanted to strip off her pants, hoist her legs around his waist, and take her against the wall right that second.

  Finesse.

  He wasn’t one of the beasts he studied in the jungle, but his desire for Stella stripped him raw. Still, the woman deserved a little consideration.

  “Let me help.” He slid the cotton off her shoulders, putting his lips to the creamy white skin of her collarbone. She arched back, her head lolling to the side as he brushed his lips up the side of her neck.

  A taste of her wasn’t enough. The need to explore every inch of her roared through him. He tugged the shirt sleeves to her elbows, his mouth hungry.

  She groaned as his lips cruised down to the swell of her breast. He traced the lace edge of her bra with his tongue. Her full-body shudder sent a knee-buckling wave of anticipation rushing through his blood.

  “I can’t move.” She wiggled, trying to free her arms, but they were trapped by the sleeves of her blouse.

  Mac gathered the fabric tighter. “I know. I kind of like it.”

  That sexy, skeptical brow shot upward.

  “I can have my way with you.” He gave her earlobe a playful, gentle nip.

  Irritation wrinkled her brow. “You can have your way with me because I want you to have your way with me.”

  “I know.” Mac laughed, tugged the sleeves behind her, and held them against the small of her back with one hand. With the other, he stroked her waist, his fingers playing across her abdomen. “Just give me a minute or so to indulge myself. My hidden caveman has needs.”

  “Hidden? You don’t hide him very well.” Her eyes darkened as he flicked open the front clasp of her bra.

  “Trust me,” he said.

  Her head tilted. “I do.”

  Her statement, and the sight of her bare skin, nearly brought him to his knees. In fact, it did. He dropped to one knee in front of her.

  He let his gaze roam over her, suddenly in no rush at all, taking in each lovely curve. “You’re perfect.”

  Her blush spread to the pale skin of her breasts. “You’re a tease.”

  “Me?” He laughed. “I just want to look at you for a minute. Indulge me.”

  “It’s been a minute.” She tugged at her sleeves.

  “Don’t rush me.” Grinning, he closed his mouth over a nipple.

  She stopped struggling. Her head fell back. Her body relaxed, and a sweet moan purred from her throat.

  He lifted his head to watch pleasure drift lazily over her face. “See?”

  “I see.” She smiled down at him. Her voice shifted into a command. “More.”

  “Yes, ma’am. You’re hot when you’re bossy.” He cruised across her chest and down her belly, letting her response guide his attentions. Nibbling, kissing, tasting. His tongue delved into her belly button and just below the waistband of her slacks. He wanted more. Much more.

  “Mac.” Her tone sharpened, but her eyes begged. “Please.”

  He released her sleeves and undid the button of her slacks. The silky fabric slid off her hips and pooled at her feet. But she made no effort to slide her hands free.

  Hot damn.

  Her panties were white and lacy and covered just enough to stir his imagination—and whet his appetite. He leaned forward to kiss her through the lace. He caught a hint of her taste through the fabric. Sweetness. Utter sweetness. She was more addictive than any drug, and he had to have more. He’d never have enough.

  He hooked his thumbs in the fabric over her hips and drew them down her legs.

  Rocking back, he took a long look. “God, you’re beautiful.”

  “Why am I naked, and you’re still dressed?”

  “Because I love to look at you.” He slid a hand down her long, long leg. Wrapping a hand around her ankle, he lifted her foot, kissed it, and drew off her panties and slacks. She stood in front of him, wearing only her white shirt drawn down around her biceps and her bra hanging open.

  He’d never seen anything so lovely.

  He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to her core. The taste of her on his lips wasn’t enough. His tongue delved in. And her body went taut as a bow.

  She pulled her arms free of her sleeves. A button popped. Fabric ripped. Then her hands were on his head, her fingers twined in his hair, her moans driving him faster.

  “Now.” She tugged on his hair.

  Mac climbed to his feet. Unlike him, she didn’t take her time.

  Thank God.

  She grabbed his shirt by the hem and ripped it over his head. Her eyes cooled as she touched the edge of his bandage. “Oh, lord. I didn’t think. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t.” He slipped a hand between her legs and watched her face heat again. Better. The truth was, he couldn’t care less about his stitches.

  “I’ll be gentle.” Tossing his shirt over her shoulder, she attacked the button of his pants. She had them down to his knees in two seconds. When her hand curled around him, he almost lost it.

  “Hold on.” He reached for his pocket. “There’s a condom in the back of my wallet.”

  “Already got one.” She held a foil packet in her other hand. Where did she get that? Ripping it open, she covered him.

  “I like a woman who knows what she wants.”

  “I want you.” She pushed him backward onto the bed. “Now.”

  Mac bounced on the mattress, kicking off his pants as she climbed on top of him.

  “I’ve been very patient.” She straddled his thighs, careful not to touch his bandage.

  His hand stroked up her arm and wrapped around a lock of her hair. Her eyes. Yeah. He could stare at those all day, too. And the focused, hungry look on her face. “You have
, and I appreciate it.”

  “You’d better let me do all the work.” In one smooth motion, she rose and took him into her body. Goddamn. She was tight and wet and hot. Buried inside her, he decided this moment could go on for the rest of his life.

  But she moved. His hands slid down to her hips, his fingers grasping to slow her down.

  “Easy.”

  “Need. To. Move.” Her head tipped back, her expression total bliss. Her breasts thrust forward. Mac reached up and cupped one, his thumb stroking her nipple.

  On one hand, he was dying to make this last as long as possible. On the other, the thought that he’d driven her senseless almost ended the moment. His senses sharpened, and his heartbeat echoed from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. Every molecule in his body was tuned, as if his nervous system was cranked into overdrive.

  She moved faster. Pleasure spiraled though him. He wrapped his arms around her and flipped them over. Tugging her legs up around his waist, he took control. Slow, even, long thrusts that made him forget they were two bodies instead of one.

  Her body bowed, her back arched, and all of her muscles went taut. Mac felt her pulse around him. He held out as long as he could, drawing out her orgasm, experiencing every second of bliss.

  When he finally let go, the release made him lightheaded. He collapsed on top of her, chest heaving, heart aching. He was sure he’d never experienced anything like making love to Stella. She fit him in every way, like a lock to a key, and being inside her was like being home.

  Her fingers toyed with his hair.

  “Why did we wait so long to do that?” she asked.

  “I have no idea.” With great regret, he slid from her body and levered up on one of his elbows. He liked the way she felt underneath him, all soft, smooth skin. He ran a hand along her hip. Her body was fit and athletic, with enough flesh under his hand that he didn’t feel like he would break her if things got energetic. Which they had. He kissed her mouth. Slow and deep, as if he wanted to make love to her again. Which he did.

  All dark eyes and disheveled hair, she cupped his jaw. “I wish this moment could last forever.”

  “Me, too.” He nibbled his way to her neck. “The best I can do is make it last a while longer.”

  They both knew in the morning they’d have to face reality. But for the next few hours, the real world could wait.

  “I’ll take every minute I can get.” How did her hand get down there?

  “I like it that you’re greedy.” He got up to deal with the condom and find another. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

  She fluffed her pillow and got comfortable. “I’ll be here.”

  But for how long?

  Mac had spent his entire adult life running from personal responsibility. Fleeing connections. Running from his emotions. Now, for the first time, he wanted something to be permanent.

  The ache in his chest was an acute reminder that his growing attachment to Stella made him vulnerable. If he let himself fall for her, it would be like stepping off a cliff. There’d be no going back.

  She appeared in the mirror behind him. “Do you think you should check your stitches? I’d feel awful if I hurt you.”

  He turned and kissed her. “I was careful. The wound is fine.”

  Tonight, it was his heart at risk.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Thunder boomed. Stella opened her eyes. She oriented herself as she recognized Mac’s bedroom in the dark. Erotic images played in her mind.

  What a night.

  Lightning flashed, illuminating Mac sprawled next to her. The room had been warm—and so had their bodies—when they’d finally fallen asleep. The sheet draped across his waist, leaving his torso bare. Her gaze roamed the lean muscle of his arms and chest. She thought about following her eyes with her hands, but it wasn’t even light yet. Why should they both be awake?

  Rain burst from the sky and drummed on the roof. Leaves rustled as the wind whipped at the trees. Cool, moist air blew through the open windows, a welcome chill. Another clap of thunder boomed, closer this time. The loud crack brought back the memory of her nightmare. Gunshots and an endless stream of blood. In her dreams, it flowed until it formed a slick, red lake in the grass.

  Nausea welled. Moving away from Mac so as not to disturb him, she curled into a ball.

  But he stirred, rolling toward her. His hand settled on her hip. “What’s wrong?”

  “Just a bad dream.” She balled up tighter.

  He stroked a hand down her back, as soothing as the patter of rain.

  “Shouldn’t you close the windows?”

  He shook his head, scooting closer and pulling her to him until his body spooned hers. “The roof was designed to protect the windows. The rain won’t get in.”

  The wind blew the cool scent of wet pine and earth into the room. Stella shivered, and Mac drew the sheet up over her shoulders.

  He pressed his lips to her temple. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  She sighed, wiggling her butt closer. She loved the feel of his body pressed against hers. He was solid and real and warm. “Just a nightmare.”

  “Do you have them often?”

  Her shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. “They started back in November.”

  “After the shooting?”

  “Yes.” She rolled onto her back, flung an arm over her head, and stared up at the ceiling. “They’d been fading, slowly, over the months, but seeing two dead bodies this week seems to have brought them back.”

  He stroked the underside of her arm. Last night, he’d found places on her body she hadn’t known were erogenous. Or was it his touch, pretty much anywhere, that stirred desire until it simmered in her veins, thick and hot and as sweet as syrup?

  “Have you seen anyone?” he asked.

  “You mean a shrink?” She rolled to face him.

  He nodded. “Yeah. I’m considering it.” He slid his hand to her hip. “I never really dealt with Lee’s death.”

  “And now your father . . .” She cupped his jaw. “Your family has been through so much.”

  “Yeah. Putting the issue on my backburner hasn’t worked out for me. I don’t recommend it.” Grief welled into Mac’s eyes. “You should deal with the problem now, instead of letting it grow.”

  Like he obviously had.

  Stella nestled her head deeper into the pillow. “I don’t have anything against therapy. My required sessions with the department shrink were important after the shooting, but I thought I was getting over it. Looks like I was wrong. I’m not worried about the actual nightmares. I’m pretty sure they’ll fade when this is over. The doctor said they could come and go, depending on triggers.” But as long as she was a cop, her life would never be free of triggers.

  “Then what’s bothering you?”

  She tucked the sheet over her breasts. “I blew off my pistol qualification last week.”

  Mac waited, patient as always, making her feel like one of the wild animals he studied.

  “Every time I pull the trigger, I flinch.” Stella flung a hand over her head. “You know about the shooting back in November?”

  “Not all the details.”

  “The suspect fled, and I shot him. The bullet struck him in the arm, but it didn’t stop him. He went on to do terrible things. He killed two cops. Your sister and Brody almost died.” She smoothed the edge of the sheet against her skin. “If I had stopped him, none of that would have happened. Those two cops would still be alive.”

  “You cannot possibly think any of that was your fault.” Mac shifted closer and took her hand. “There is only one person responsible for their deaths: the shooter.”

  “My brain knows this, but my heart sees the police chaplain on the doorstep.” A tear slipped from her eye. “Just like when my dad died.”

  Mac pulled her into his arms. Holding her against his chest, he stroked her hair. “You know you’re being completely unreasonable. The mayor gave you a medal for your performan
ce in the shootout.”

  “How do you know about that?” Stella lifted her head.

  “I might have been keeping tabs on you.”

  “From the jungle?”

  “I didn’t say it was easy.” He brushed the tear from her cheek. “But you’re worth it. I ran all the way to South America, but I couldn’t get you out of my head.”

  She rested her head on his chest. Just being in his arms helped. “I’ll see the shrink, but I still have to get through my qualification.”

  “Have you been to the range?”

  “Not lately. The cop crowd there makes me nervous. I feel like everyone is staring at me, even though they’re not,” Stella said. “I know this is all in my head.”

  Mac glanced at the clock. He stood, taking Stella’s hand and dragging her to her feet. “It’s five o’clock. Grab a shower. I’ll make coffee.”

  “Where are we going?” Still groggy, Stella headed for the bathroom. She turned on the spray to let the water warm up.

  Mac was sending a text. “Firing range.”

  “Who are you texting?”

  “Hannah. No one makes shooting more fun than she does.”

  “It’s not even light out.”

  “She gets up early.” His gaze darkened as he scanned her from head to toe. “It’s a real shame, but I guess you’ll need clothes.”

  “I keep a bag in the trunk of my car.” Crime scenes were rough on her wardrobe.

  Forty-five minutes later, they pulled into the dirt and gravel parking area. Hannah was waiting.

  Stella eyed the building. Nerves swam through the coffee in her belly.

  “Trust me.” Mac got out of the car to greet his sister.

  Dressed in jeans, boots, and a Syracuse University T-shirt, Hannah didn’t look like a hotshot lawyer. She opened her trunk and unlocked a portable gun safe. She palmed a handgun, and handed Mac one.

  Stella looked over Mac’s shoulder. The box contained additional handguns and rifles. “What is this?”

  “The Barrett family arsenal.” Mac picked up a magazine and a box of bullets. “The Colonel took his weapons very seriously.”

  “He must have.” Stella faced the concrete bunker-type structure. No signs gave away the building’s purpose.