by Lorie O
Kylie looked up at him, her lips parted and her breath coming hard. Emotions he’d apparently managed to keep at bay, possibly as long as she’d been gone, suddenly tumbled at her like an avalanche. And he held on to her, refusing to let go and staring down at her with a hard stare that bordered on violent.
“It hurt when you walked out of my life, hurt really fucking bad. And I knew you were leaving. But then I had to deal with the girls, who were not only recovering from the hysteria and trauma involved with a madman stalking one of them, and with girls they knew having been brutally murdered, but also with a sense of betrayal they felt from you.”
“Perry,” she breathed, knowing nothing she could say right now would take away the pain and heartache he had to deal with.
“So if you’ve come back to stay, we’ll talk. But if you’re here for a short while, only to leave to start again in another town, then there isn’t anything for us to say.” He let go of her wrist, opened the refrigerator, grabbed a beer, and walked out of the kitchen.
Hell. She didn’t know if she had come back to stay unless she knew where things were with them. He wanted it just the opposite, and she wasn’t sure how to give it to him like that.
Taking a moment, finding one of his coffee cups and pouring herself coffee, she then found a plate, poured the stack of bacon onto it, added the two slices of buttered toast, and followed him. She walked through the masculine looking living room, which appeared almost dusty from lack of use, to the den where his computer was. He sat in front of it, not looking at her, with the glow from the monitor creating a shiny texture in his hair. His bedroom door was open, the lights off in there and the lingering smell from his shower drifting toward her. It didn’t seem so long ago she had been here, although then her concerns had been so different.
Kylie placed the plate of food next to the keyboard. Then nursing her coffee, she walked around his desk to his gun case, the only item in the room that appeared dusted and well maintained. She stared at the expensive collection of weapons housed behind the glass.
“I’ve been injured, Perry,” she began, not knowing where to start in bridging the gap between them. She did know she wanted to, more than she’d wanted anything in her life; she would sweat out this conversation until they found ground to coexist on.
“I can see that,” he said, his mouth full of food. When the silence drifted between them again, he chewed and swallowed. “Thanks for making me breakfast. It is really good.”
“You’re welcome.” She didn’t turn around, unable to stare into those all-knowing eyes and say what was in her heart. “I was promised a month’s vacation after Nicaragua, but after injuring myself, I’ve now been given two months off.”
“So you’re here for two months?” Perry asked, sounding very matter-of-fact.
Kylie couldn’t turn this into a mathematical equation, giving him figures and making everything cut-and-dry. Her thigh pinched with pain when she shifted, finally facing him and balancing herself against his desk. “I don’t know how long I’m here for, Perry. It isn’t all black and white. There are gray areas. And I doubt one conversation between you and me can clear all those areas up.”
“I’m not going to endure the pain,” he said firmly.
“Relationships are about pain,” she argued, fighting not to lose her temper with his insistence they create some kind of damn contract that neither one of them would ever stray from. “They are about love and happiness, too. But I can’t promise never to hurt you any more than you could make me the same offer.”
“I would never hurt you,” he hissed.
“You’re hurting me right now,” she yelled. “You hurt me the moment I laid eyes on you when I was coming into town. And for the past two days I’ve been dying inside, desperate to know where I stood with you. But that didn’t send me running.”
She put her cup down too hard on his desk and some of it spilled onto her hand. Bringing her burnt flesh to her lips, she closed her eyes, willing herself to calm down and say what needed to be said to get them past this point. She jumped when strong arms grabbed her, pulling her from the desk.
“Sit down before you fall down,” Perry said, his bare chest brushing against her arm and then her back, as he guided her into his bedroom. “So you’re here for two months. Are you staying at that motel for two months?”
He stood in front of her and Kylie’s heart started pounding when she realized she sat on the edge of his bed. He’d moved her so quickly, obviously more in tune with her movements and how standing for long periods or walking was still difficult to do. She stared at his strong body, at his sleek dark hair, and then into his gaze that was damn near sinful with the intensity that glowed there.
“I checked out,” she admitted.
“And you came here. Are you leaving?”
“No,” she whispered.
Perry leaned over her, pushing her backward until she lay sideways on his bed. Kylie wrapped her arms around his neck, his damp hair torturing her feverish flesh as she pulled him to her, needing to taste him, to feel him against her. If only she knew in her heart what she felt now would last, forever.
His kiss wasn’t gentle. But she didn’t want that. He pressed her lips open, moving in and demanding she give him all she had.
Kylie dragged her fingers over his shoulders, feeling his muscles twitch where she touched him. The heat from his body sunk deep inside her, filling the void that had grown to its painful size the longer she’d been apart from him. As she opened, sighing into the kiss, Kylie experienced the overwhelming sensation that she’d come home, for the first time in her life.
And as quickly as the sensation hit her, the need also attacked her to have him inside her. Talking all of this out no longer seemed as important as making love to him. It had been three long months.
“Perry,” she whispered, moving her lips against his.
“Kylie,” he responded, making her name sound better than anything she’d heard him say since she got here.
“I need to get out of my clothes.”
“Yes. You do.” He moved his hand between them, pushing her shirt up over her breasts with a quick thrust. Then his fingers tortured her belly as he worked the snap loose on her jeans and unzipped her zipper. “What is the best way?” he asked.
She didn’t understand his question until he lifted himself off her, taking her shirt with him and sliding it over her head. He tossed it to the side and looked like a starving man as he stared at her. Kylie never felt more beautiful in all of her life, and she doubted seriously she was looking her best these days.
“The best way?” she asked.
He pulled her to her feet, keeping her close with his arms around her as he slid her jeans down her hips. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered against her neck, placing gentle kisses along her collarbone.
She realized he meant because of her injury. “I’m not sure. I haven’t had sex since-” She broke off, looking up into his sensual green eyes. “Since I’ve been with you,” she finished her sentence, growing incredibly warm under his heated stare even as she shed her clothing.
“Good.” He said the one word so firmly Kylie didn’t doubt anymore that whatever their issues, they would work them out. “Neither have I.”
“Good.” She couldn’t help grinning.
Taking a moment to kick off her shoes and step out of her jeans, she then wrapped her arms around his shoulders, leaning into him and kissing him.
When he placed her once again on his bed, it felt better than she remembered it feeling having his flesh touching hers. Her thigh was tender, and she was aware of the gash stretching down his back when she kept her exploration to his shoulders and arms. In spite of neither of them being in perfect condition, Kylie was positive their lovemaking was hotter, filled with more passion, and more intense than it had been before she left him.
His kisses went from gentle and tender to needy and demanding. When he scraped his rough fingertips against her flesh, the ting
les that rushed over her were almost enough to make her come. Perry scraped his teeth over her nipples and sucked first one and then the other like a starving man. The pressure that built inside her as he administered his torturous attention to her body filled her with desire to have more of him. With every touch, every kiss, Kylie knew she was right where she belonged, and understood now why she felt so unsettled until she returned to Perry’s side.
He was her soul mate, her other half. Regardless of their lines of work, they would make their relationship last. She didn’t doubt it for a moment. Perry was her man. And she was his woman.
“I love you, Kylie,” he whispered against her mouth when he finally glided deep inside her.
His words along with the pressure he applied took her over the edge. She ignored the pang in her thigh when she arched underneath him, gripping his arms and actually panting as she fought to catch her breath.
“Oh, God, Perry,” she cried, feeling another emotional roller coaster hit her, and worried she might start crying in the middle of making love to him. “I most definitely love you, too.” And she had for quite a while now, possibly well before leaving him.
“Don’t leave me again.” It wasn’t an order, although not quite a request. And he didn’t wait for a response.
Perry impaled her, and when she howled from the depth he reached, he devoured her mouth, taking all she offered and giving as much in return. Her world tilted, all anxiety, the panic attacks, her worries and pain vanishing as their bodies became one. She exploded, the dam of passion releasing and her orgasm pushing her to a new level.
He continued fucking her, bringing her to a hard orgasm several more times, obviously not exhausted in spite of working all night. When he finally released, deep inside her, pumping all he had until his body was covered with a shiny sheen of sweat, his bulging muscles appeared larger and more defined. It was definitely the sexiest view she’d ever witnessed in her life.
Kylie relaxed slowly, taking time to catch her breath while running her fingertips over the tight, dark curls in the middle of his chest. “This afternoon at four I have a job interview,” she told him, knowing the time was right.
“Oh?” He didn’t roll over next to her when he slowly pulled out but instead moved to a sitting position, pulling her into his arms and cradling her with her injured thigh away from him. He moved his finger slowly around the still-tender scar and slightly puffy flesh where the bullet had entered her. “I thought you weren’t leaving the FBI.”
“It’s an interview for the supervisor’s position at the field office here in town.”
His gaze shot to hers, one eyebrow tilting slightly as his gaze narrowed on hers. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me this sooner? You have come back to stay.”
His excitement was so noticeable it was impossible not to smile. “Perry, I needed to know you wanted me here no matter what.”
“You knew I did,” he growled.
“I thought you did until you were so cold toward me when you pulled me over for speeding.” She spoke easily, relaxing in his arms and letting her head rest against his arm. “Then I wasn’t sure what to do. I almost left, but couldn’t without talking to you first.”
“I didn’t want to endure the pain of you entering my life again only to leave.”
“There is a possibility I might be here for good.” She studied his face closely and saw only the love he’d professed to her while making love to her.
“Do you want a desk job?” He surprised her with the question.
When she was sure he would be excited at the prospect of her remaining in Mission Hills, Perry knew her well enough, even after being apart for three months, to know the thrill of solving the case, being on the streets and piecing together the puzzle pieces, meant more to her than anything else in her life. Although she was beginning to believe Perry meant as much to her.
“It’s going to take a while before I’m completely healed,” she admitted, noting how easy it was to share that information with him when only a few weeks ago the knowledge had made her sick to her stomach. “And there is no insurance I’ll get the job here in town, but my supervisor in Dallas arranged for the interview with the area field supervisor. I have a feeling the job will be mine if I want it. I’ve put in my time, and since I’ve been injured, they know my experience and knowledge of solving cases can still be put to good use with me running the office here in town.”
Perry glanced at his dresser, where a clock radio glowed with digital numbers. It was already almost ten in the morning. “I need to get some shut-eye, and have to be at work at five. But I’ll take you to that interview.”
She could drive herself, but the thought of having him take her, wishing her luck, and being there afterward so she could share what had happened sounded really appealing.
“Have you had enough to eat?” she asked.
Perry was already pulling the blankets back on his bed, keeping her in his arms while adjusting their bodies until they lay next to each other in his bed. “I have for now,” he growled, nipping at her ear. “You should take a nap, too. You’re going to need to be rested. I have a feeling I’m going to wake up a starving man.”
“There will be plenty for you to eat when you wake up.” She cuddled in next to him, the warmth of his body enveloping her and assuring her once again she was home, for good.
Home was where her heart was, and she had known she’d find it if she came back.
Read on for an excerpt from the next book
by Lorie O’ Clare
Play Dirty
Coming soon from St. Martin’s Paperbacks
Greg King loved not having to worry about getting a warrant. But if he shot to kill, he would face murder charges. He really did hate some of the laws on the books.
Keeping his Glock pointed to the ground, he hit the street, humidity causing his shirt to cling to him like a second skin. It wasn’t even light out yet. It would be another scorcher, tolerable only if he nailed the fugitive they’d been tracking since two AM before the sun got too high in the sky.
And they said life would be boring once he retired from the LAPD.
“Marc, you in place?” he hissed into his Bluetooth.
“Yup,” Marc whispered in his ear, sounding somewhat winded. “Stationary and ready for fireworks.”
“Jake, what’s it like out front?”
“All quiet. He’s still in there.” Jake’s anxious tone sounded as if he were running high on adrenaline.
But then, weren’t they all. It had been one hell of a night.
“I’m going in,” Greg informed his sons.
Marc and Jake both loved the kill, although technically no one died. Or they weren’t supposed to. Greg and his sons were only paid when they brought their prey in alive. A dead fugitive was no good to the bondsman who’d hired them, or in this case, bondswoman.
Greg knew the craving to make the bust, bring down the fugitive, and slap on those cuffs, ran strong enough in his blood that both of his boys would get high from the adventure just like he did. Pulling all-nighters like this never got old. Dealing with the bureaucratic red tape that forced him to wait on judges’ signatures and stalling until he got the go-ahead from his senior officers got old as hell. Those days were behind him now. Being a bounty hunter allowed him freedom to do exactly what he planned on doing right now, and would have killed to do for the past twenty years.
Greg cut between the dilapidated house and the house next door where Charlie Woods supposedly lived, moving silently in spite of his size. Size did matter. No one would convince him otherwise. But Greg knew how to move his over-six-foot-tall body-six foot four inches to be exact-without disturbing a soul. There wasn’t any reason to wake the entire neighborhood simply because Pedro thought he could jump bail and make a run for it. Charlie was a known member of the Hell Cats, a gang Pedro Gutierrez had once belonged to. According to reliable sources, Pedro was hiding out at Charlie’s. Greg wouldn’t learn the truth by simply knocking on t
he door.
He reached the backyard and hurried across the lawn, slowing when he reached the metal screen door. He kept his gun down, pulling the door open with his left hand, then braced it with his body as he turned the handle on the door.
“Are you in?” Jake demanded, his whispered question sounding as if he stood right behind his father.
Greg took his hand off the doorknob and adjusted the earpiece so his son wasn’t yelling in his ear.
“It’s locked,” he growled, having half a mind to shoot the fucking doorknob off the door. “I’m trying the windows.”
“We’re coming in through the front,” Marc decided, breaking in on the conversation.
“Like hell,” Greg said, keeping his voice to a barely audible whisper. “He’s fucking armed and dangerous. We’re working against a ticking time bomb. You two wait for my go-ahead.”
Already he was around the back of the house, edging his way to the nearest window. It was probably a bedroom window and quite possibly where their guy might be hiding out. Greg stared at the dark window, blinds, possibly curtains, or even a mattress, that were making it impossible to see inside. The storm window was up, though, and the window wasn’t so high off the ground or too small that he couldn’t haul his rather large frame through it if he moved quickly. The element of surprise was his only advantage right now.
“Go ahead and call in backup,” Greg told Marc.
“I’m on it,” his son announced.
Greg didn’t bother asking if that meant they were already on their way or not. They would get here when they got here. Greg wasn’t waiting.
Sliding his gun into his holster, Greg pulled out his pocketknife and flipped it open. It wasn’t the kind of knife most fathers carried around with them. The razor-sharp blade would cut through the metal of the screen frame if he wanted it to. Instead, he sliced the screen, imagining their fugitive would probably try suing if he owned this dump and charging him for breaking and entering plus vandalizing his home. It wouldn’t be the first time.
