He let his mind go over his plans for Monday. A morning flight to Washington—it was the only flight, so he hadn’t had much of a choice there. Then he’d have dinner with Senator and Mrs. Rutherford—his in-laws. From there, they’d go to the gala fund-raiser for the Rutherford Foundation, the charity Stephanie had founded with her trust fund money. Celine Rutherford, Stephanie’s mother, ran the foundation in her daughter’s name, but Tom liked to help out whenever he could. It was his way of honoring his late wife.
He didn’t love gala fund-raisers, because he’d never quite gotten over the feeling that he was an interloper. He didn’t love going back to DC for the same reason, although if he went for work, he was usually fine. And while he greatly respected the Rutherfords, seeing them was still painful. Celine strongly resembled her daughter, and it hurt Tom to look at her and know that was what Stephanie would have looked like if they’d gotten the chance to grow old together.
Usually, he didn’t go back for these sorts of things. He had cases to solve, bad guys to catch—and the Rutherfords understood that. They never questioned Tom’s work ethic. Instead, they all seemed content with chatty emails from Celine every month or so, plus cards at the holidays.
But once a year, he made the trip out East. He sat down with the Rutherfords and celebrated his wife’s life and legacy. The Rutherford Foundation was dedicated to furthering education for girls and women around the world, and thanks to Tom’s involvement, he’d gotten some of those funds allocated to Native American reservations around the US.
The timing sucked. When he’d made the executive decision to bring Caroline out here, he’d reasoned that he’d have plenty of time to get her back, get the equipment he needed and sweep her house. But in talking with Carlson while she’d soaked in his pool, Tom had realized he wouldn’t be able to make his flight if he swept the house himself. As it was, they were going to have to get up before the crack of dawn on Monday so he’d have enough time to get back to his place in Pierre and grab his tuxedo.
At least Carlson could do the sweep on Monday. Tom would feel better if he checked every inch of Caroline’s house himself, but he trusted Carlson implicitly. After this, Tom was getting his own sweeper. To hell with using the department’s. The things he could buy on the internet were almost as good. Good enough to have checked Caroline’s house, anyway.
All these plans buzzed through his head as he lay there, which was fine. It was much better to think of airport security lines and tuxedos than it was to dwell on the mental image of Caroline lying nude in his pool.
He’d left her out there for almost twenty minutes while he’d called Carlson and gotten the pizzas Lilly had made out of the oven. And the whole time, he hadn’t been thinking about his late wife or about gala fund-raisers. In all actuality, he’d barely been thinking about corrupt judges or bugged houses.
All he’d been able to think about was Caroline. Lying nude in his pool.
Even now, he could see her out there, the hazy golden light of sunset glimmering around her hair, the reddish spring water dancing over her skin. God, she must have been gorgeous. But he hadn’t looked. He’d promised.
At some point in the still of the night, he became aware of movement. Wild animals sometimes prowled around at night—the smell of pizza could’ve drawn them. Without moving, he woke up and listened.
The sound he heard—the regular if light sound of footsteps, the faint squeaking of the floorboards, the sound of a knob turning—weren’t coming from outside. He didn’t react as Caroline stepped into the room. Instead, all he could think was that he hoped she didn’t gut him like a fish.
He waited until, nearly noiselessly, she’d made her way over to him. “I told you I was a light sleeper.”
She made a little noise of surprise. “You’re awake?”
“So are you.”
“I...” He heard her take a deep breath. “I couldn’t sleep.”
That got his eyes open. “Yeah?”
But the sight of her in a short cotton gown that fell to just above her knees, her hair rumpled with sleep—God, he didn’t know if he could be this strong. “Do you really think someone is going to try and blackmail me?”
“No guarantees in life, but probably. Do you have something to hide?” He desperately wanted her to say no. Maybe it was because it was late or maybe it was because he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since he’d seen her in her courtroom, ferocious and beautiful.
Or maybe it was just because she was standing in his bedroom in the dead of night, looking for reassurance. And if there was one thing Tom could provide, it was reassurance. Hands-on, physical reassurances. A lot of them.
For years—years—he had put all his energy into doing the job, because what else did he have? Not his wife. Not the family they’d planned for.
All he had was the never-ending quest for truth, justice and the American way. He gave the FBI nearly everything he had, and what he held back, he gave to rescuing girls from prostitution.
No matter what, he wanted Caroline to be honest and true. And he wanted her all for himself, selfish bastard that he was. He wanted Caroline for himself, not because she was a new lead or a key component of this damnable case.
He wanted her. God, it felt so good to want again. Even better to be wanted.
There was a pause that made him wonder if maybe he’d read the situation wrong. Then she said, “I don’t have any kinks.” He heard her swallow. “At least, I don’t think I do...”
Tom’s body was instantly awake. “You’re not sure?”
“Who can say if it’s something that’s going to be used against me?”
Moving slowly, he sat up, ignoring the way his body jumped to attention. “I could,” he offered, not even bothering to convince himself that it was knowledge necessary to keep her safe. This had nothing to do with protecting her, and they both knew it. “You could tell me what you like and I’ll let you know if it’s a hazard to your reputation or not.”
He heard her swallow again, the soft click of her throat muscles working. Would she turn and go back to her bedroom, shut the door and lock it? Or would she...
“I like men,” she began, her voice so soft he almost couldn’t hear the waver in it.
So far, so good. “Just men?”
He could see her head bob—thank God for the full moon tonight.
“Nothing illegal about that. I think it makes you normal. Unless...” He breathed deeply. He would not lose control. Simple as that. “Do you do anything with your partner that might be dangerous?”
He saw her chest rise and fall as she exhaled. “I... I like to be on top. I have been told that I have extremely sensitive breasts. I like it when my lover strokes them and sucks them. But not biting—they’re too sensitive for that.”
Adrenaline slammed through his system, his heart pounding and his dick throbbing. He could see it in his mind’s eye, her riding him, his face buried in her breasts. “That doesn’t seem unusual.” His voice cracked.
He needed to have her over him. He needed to feel the warm wetness of her body surrounding him, holding him. He needed to pull one of her nipples into his mouth and suck on it until she screamed with pleasure.
God, he wasn’t sure he had ever needed anything so much in his entire life.
He didn’t dare move. He didn’t want to break the spell that had her sharing her deepest desires. “Is there anything else that could be considered unusual?”
“I...” She took a step toward him. It wasn’t a big movement, but he felt it down to his toes. That spark that had always existed between them—it was no longer an isolated flash of light in the darkness. It was burning hotter and brighter than anything he’d ever felt before. It lit him up. She lit him up. “I like it when a man bends me over and takes me from behind.”
For all of his years keeping
his emotions blank and unreadable, Tom could not fight back the groan that started low in his chest and burned its way out of his throat. “Yeah?” he choked out.
“That’s not dangerous, is it?” Her voice shook again, but it didn’t sound like nerves. It sounded like want. “I sometimes fantasize about a man coming into my chambers and bending me over my desk because he wants me so much that we can’t wait. He—he might hold me by my hair or dig his fingers into my skin. He can’t even wait to get undressed.” She took a shuddering breath. “Is it wrong, do you think? It’s so risky...”
“Wrong?” He laughed, a dry sound. “I’ve never heard anything so right in my entire life.” Her face practically glowed with what looked a hell of a lot like relief. “I wouldn’t try it until your office has been swept for bugs, though. And only with a man you trust completely.”
She took another small step closer. His breath caught in his throat—he could see her legs now, long and bare. She had an unearthly glow where the moonlight kissed her skin. He’d never been jealous of the moon before. “That’s the problem, you see? There aren’t very many men I trust.”
“There aren’t?”
She shook her head. “Only you.”
Tom was on his feet before he could think better of it. Then she was in his arms and he was kissing her.
No, kissing was too generic a word that covered too many things.
It didn’t cover this—he was consuming her. He devoured her lips and sucked on her tongue while he ran his hands down her back and over her bottom, squeezing hard.
“Anything else,” he whispered in her ear before he sucked her lobe in between his teeth and nipped, “that could be used against you?”
“I don’t like prissy, cautious sex.” Her body was vibrating in his arms, and he could feel her nipples, pointed and scraping against his chest. “I like it wild and rough. Loud and—”
He couldn’t take another moment of this exquisite torture. He swept her legs out from under her for the second time in a few short hours and threw her onto the bed. “I wanted to do this earlier,” he told her. “But I didn’t know what you wanted.”
“You.” He grabbed at his T-shirt. Her hands went to the waistband of his shorts, shoving them and his briefs down. It wasn’t gentle or patient. He grabbed the hem of her nightshirt and yanked it over her head, leaving her bare before him just as his erection sprang free. She gasped and then palmed him. Desire ran ragged through him.
When she looked up at him, her eyes luminous in the moonlight, she said, “I want you. Because I feel it, too.”
* * *
Tom paused for just a second, a wild look of need in his eyes, and Caroline wondered if she’d said the wrong thing.
Please, she found herself praying as she clung to him, please don’t let this be a mistake.
It wouldn’t be, and that was final. She wasn’t a naive college girl living in her own little world anymore. She and Tom were consenting adults and it was perfectly reasonable to burn off a little excess energy doing consensual things. What happened in this room had nothing to do with corruption or cases or the errors of her ways.
But the next thing she knew, Tom had pulled free of her grasp and fallen to his knees. Her hands were empty and she felt oddly bereft.
He grabbed her by the hips and hauled her to the edge of the bed, his fingers digging into her skin. “Caroline,” he groaned and then his teeth skimmed over her inner thigh. “Did you ever think of this?”
Then his mouth was upon her, licking and sucking her tender flesh. She sank her fingers into his hair and gave herself up to the sensation. Tom shifted, lifting her legs over his shoulders and spreading her wider for his attentions.
“Sometimes,” she got out in a breathy voice. But not very often.
Oral sex was just...one of those things. Her previous lovers had either not been enthusiastic about it or hadn’t been good—the worst was when it was both combined. They would go down on her for a few minutes and consider that an even exchange for fellatio.
But Tom? Not only was he enthusiastic—and that would’ve been more than enough—but he knew what he was doing. He found the bud of her sex and tormented it relentlessly with his tongue. One hand snaked up over her stomach until he was fondling her breast, rubbing his callused thumb over her nipple until it ached. His other hand? When he slipped a finger inside her, she almost came off the bed. She wanted to cry with satisfaction. She didn’t. Instead, she just held on for the ride.
Jesus, her fantasies weren’t this good. Tom found a rhythm and worked her body. He teased her nipple and licked her sex and thrust his fingers into her body. He gave her no quarter, no space for her mind to wander off and debate the wisdom of this. He kept her in the here and now, in this bedroom, with him. He pushed her body relentlessly as the orgasm built. He must’ve been able to tell she was close, because suddenly, he wasn’t just flicking his thumb back and forth over her taut nipple—he pinched it between his thumb and finger and made a humming noise deep in the back of his throat.
Caroline came undone. Her thighs clenched around his fingers as she rode the waves of pleasure until they left her sated and limp. Slowly, Tom withdrew. He went from licking to pressing gentle kisses against her sex. Instead of pinching her nipple, he stroked his fingers all around her breast and then down over her stomach. Slowly, he pulled free of her body. She shivered at the loss.
She felt she needed to say something, show her appreciation somehow. She should be polite and reciprocate, at least.
But she found she couldn’t do any of those things. She was boneless with satisfaction, able to do little more than smile at him. “Hopefully,” she said, her voice sultry even to her own ears, “that wasn’t a hazardous activity.”
Tom got to his feet. The moonlight kissed his skin, giving him an otherworldly look. His erection jutted out from his body, and she lifted her foot to nudge at the tip. “No,” he said, his voice deep and commanding, “I don’t think there was anything damaging about that.” He grabbed her foot when she nudged him again and lifted it, pressing a kiss to the sole.
It tickled and she laughed.
He leaned over her, holding his body above hers. The scent of sex hung between them as his erection brushed her hip. Unexpectedly, her eyes watered. This man—more than his dammed spring, more than his wine and pizza—she’d needed this from this man. “You decide.”
She touched his face, letting her fingertips trace the map of his skin. “On what?”
Even in this dim light, she could see his eyes darken. “Do I flip you over or make you ride me?” She gasped at his words, her body arching into his. He’d paid attention, bless the man. He went on, “Should I suck your breasts or slap your ass?”
She pulled him down onto the bed, rolling as he went. “I’m on top.”
“God,” he muttered, shifting so they were in the middle of the bed, “I love a woman who knows what she wants.”
Seven
“Condoms? Something?”
It took a second for Caroline’s words to sink in, because Tom was having trouble getting past the way she straddled him, her breasts ripe for the plucking. His erection ached with need—and it only got worse when she settled her weight on him. He could feel the warmth of her sex against his dick—so close, yet so far away. He flexed his hips, dragging against her sensitive skin.
She made a noise high in the back of her throat as she shifted, bringing him against her entrance. But before he could thrust home, she leaned up, breaking the contact. “Tom. Condom?”
“Um...” Right, right. Birth control was the responsible thing here. As much as he hated to lift Caroline off him, he couldn’t risk her health just because he couldn’t think of a single thing beyond how her body would take his in. “One second.”
He kept a fully stocked emergency cabinet in the storeroom t
hat could help him survive a few months out here—and along with the necessities in the kit were unlubricated condoms. He just had to find them—which he had to do naked, while not looking at the pictures on the wall.
As he searched, Tom could almost feel Stephanie’s eyes on him. Which was ridiculous. But he couldn’t bring himself to glance at their wedding photos. He couldn’t display them out in the open, but he also couldn’t put them in an album on the shelf. So they lived here, in his storage room.
She would’ve wanted him to do this, he told himself, rifling through the emergency supplies. Stephanie had loved him beyond the point of reason, and she wouldn’t have wanted him to spend the rest of his life alone. Not that having sex with Caroline had anything to do with the rest of his life. Those two things weren’t directly connected.
Except...for that spark.
Stephanie would have wanted him to be happy. Polished, quiet Stephanie, who liked slow seductions and quiet submissions and sex in a bed. Only a bed. Never in an office or on a desk.
Finally, he found the condoms and a tube of all-purpose lube. It felt like he’d been looking for hours, but it’d probably been no more than five minutes. By the time he made it back to the bedroom, he was afraid the magic of the moment had been broken.
He paused at the bedroom door, trying to play out all possible outcomes. Would she have fallen back asleep? Changed her mind? Would he have to go sit in his spring-fed pool to keep himself under control?
He could take care of himself—he’d been doing it for years. But he didn’t want to. He wanted to get back to that place where he and Caroline were two consenting adults about to get what they needed.
He needed her.
He had from the very beginning, when she’d been magnificent in her courtroom.
“Tom?” Her voice was soft, sultry. Not the voice of a judge, but the voice of a woman. A woman who needed to be satisfied.
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