by Geri Krotow
He pulled up to the garage door and killed the engine. “I need to do a thorough walk-about. Let’s get inside and figure out whatever you need to know to live here.”
She laughed. “I think I can manage that on my own, Kyle.” The wariness in her eyes didn’t match the curve of her lips, though. Had he said something that bothered her, with all his talk of California? The life of a farmer wasn’t luxurious, but his family had always thrived. Maybe hers had struggled at times?
“Yes, but you need to learn the first lesson of a good law enforcement op. Trading information. You know a lot about me now. I still don’t even know what you do on a daily basis.”
“Oh.” Her lips, slightly parted, created a cold-air balloon with her breath.
“Come on, let’s get inside. It’s freezing out here.”
* * *
The warm golden hues in exposed wood beams were welcoming and soothing to the eye. Granite and stainless steel stamped the kitchen with a gourmet feel, and the river-stone hearth beckoned for a night of reading while sipping hot chocolate or a hot toddy. Portia appreciated the contemporary sensibilities in the otherwise cozy, traditional home.
But what won her over were the views. Each and every room of the house seemed to have a view of the surrounding hills and rolling mountains that provided the footbed of the Appalachian Trail.
They stopped in the kitchen and she put her purse and laptop on the expansive counter. “I don’t think I ever thanked Josh for taking Annie to get this back to me, or for the extra clothes.”
“You’ve had a lot on your mind.” He walked up to her and the spacious room morphed to the inches between them. Cool gray eyes appraised her and it was as if this man, a mere stranger only a day ago, read her better than she’d ever done her favorite Dickens stories. “You keep saying you’re fine, Portia, but trust me. I’ve got years of the kind of day you had yesterday behind me, and it was a long day for me. It’d be completely normal for you to think you’re losing it a little bit. Or to feel frightened.”
She blinked, but didn’t break his eye contact. “I admit I was shaky yesterday, but this...this feels better.” She meant the house, the sense of security being away from where the woman had tried to kill her—twice—or knowing that SVPD—no, Kyle—was looking out for her; all of these things made her anxiety melt away. But it’d be a lie. She felt better because Kyle was here. Still.
He’s going back to California eventually.
So what? She didn’t want anything lasting. Not after the Robert mess. And wasn’t it healthy to connect with someone on a sexual level, after such life-threatening events?
“You’ve got that look again, Portia.” The white gleam of his grin told her he was on the same frequency. Which sent thrills from her skin to her deepest, most intimate parts.
“What look?” Her voice sounded breathy and begging for his kiss again, at least to her ears.
He leaned over and stroked her cheek, his finger tracing an electric trail from her cheekbone to her earlobe. Then he moved his hand to her nape. “Like you want to kiss me again.”
“I—”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve got to know that I’m a full-partnership kind of guy, Portia. Since you kissed me last time, it’s my turn to kiss you.”
“Aren’t we kissing each other?” she said in a whisper, as she watched his mouth move around his words, saw the flick of his tongue against his teeth. Her knees were wobbly, sure, but it was the insistent hot pulse between her legs that shook her. She’d do anything this man let her, allow him to do whatever he wanted. Portia wanted Kyle as she’d never wanted another man. It didn’t make sense; she barely knew him—
His fingers touched her temple. “Stop, Portia. You’re thinking too much. If either of us stops to think this out, take it to its logical conclusion, we’re going to miss out.”
“Yes.” Her lips throbbed, too, wanting this kiss to start so that it could never end.
“I’m going to kiss you now, Portia. Is that okay?” His breath warmed her face, and she loved the intimacy of his scent mingling with cinnamon and maybe a linger of the morning’s coffee. Other than his hand on her neck, they weren’t touching. She swayed and her pelvis moved with her, needing to know if he was as turned on as she.
“Stop talking, Kyle.”
His chuckle was the last thing she heard before he hauled her against him, grabbed her ass and held her as he pressed his erection—his wonderfully hard and straining erection—into her heat. Layers of clothes didn’t prevent the shock of it from reverberating through her, making her toes clench and unclench in her boots. Her arms went around his neck as his mouth covered hers and sensation assaulted her, blowing away any concerns she had about this being a short-term affair. Any affair with Kyle would be welcome and, in her current state, medically necessary. Because as they kissed, as their tongues stroked, their mouths sucked, their hands explored, Portia felt what she hadn’t since before she’d become an ROC target, since before she’d met and been used by Robert.
Portia felt alive. Kyle’s touch reminded her that she loved life, and couldn’t wait to see what each day brought.
Today, it handed her Kyle.
* * *
Kyle never mixed sex and work. It was a bad combo, not only because of the risk of missing a danger signal but also because emotions ran rampant during a high-stake mission. He’d always preferred to keep his personal commitments completely separate from his duty, which meant he had long-term relationships with women he rarely saw. Since that got old, he’d let go of even trying to form more than a brief sexual bond when opportunity arose.
Portia was different. This wouldn’t be just sex and he knew it. He also knew that he’d told her he was leaving after he brought ROC down, going back to California, where he’d pick up the rest of his life.
She’d made it clear she was a Pennsylvania woman, highly educated and well-traveled, at least within North America, but not interested in going anywhere else permanently. Silver Valley was Portia’s home, as the tree-nut farms of Northern California were his.
Her kiss was magic, no other word for it. He’d been hard for her all morning, but when she’d turned and looked at him in the kitchen, he’d been unable to maintain his professional demeanor.
“Kyle.” She spoke against his mouth as he moved his hand to between her legs, cupped her, intimated with a wiggle of his fingers what he wanted to do once he got her skirt and panties off. Would she even wear panties, or was it a thong, a G-string? He pressed his forehead against hers. He needed oxygen.
“If we keep doing this, Portia, I need all of you. It’s been a while, and—”
She silenced him by licking around his lips with her hot, furtive tongue. He wanted to know what it’d feel like on his dick, how she’d take him in her mouth and use it to bring him to full release. When she reached down and stroked him through his jeans, he felt like he was fifteen again and ready to lose it before they even got started. He wrenched his mouth from hers.
“Now, Portia. Here.”
“We need a condom.” She turned in his arms and grabbed her purse, unzipped it.
He reached into his jacket inside pocket and pulled out the strip of condoms he’d taken from his medicine chest this morning. As much as he’d berated himself for even contemplating involving Portia in his frenetic life, he felt nothing but gratitude.
“Here,” they both said at the same time, as she held up a similar strip of protection. Their eyes met and the heat between them evaporated into gales of laughter.
“When did you have time to get condoms?” He hadn’t seen her leave his place, but she could have, when he was in the shower. The drugstore was a two-minute walk, tops, from his apartment building.
“After yesterday, at the tracks.” Her already flushed face turned a deep crimson. Something warred in her eyes, as
if she were on the verge of telling him her deepest secret. “I haven’t been held like that, like when you saved my life, in a long time. Maybe forever. It got me thinking that I’ve been a bit of a...a recluse for too long. It’s my way of being prepared, of making an affirmative step toward the life I want.”
When her lips formed the word want, humor left as quickly as it’d appeared, and he was a lightning rod full of charged particles—for Portia. All he saw, all he felt, all he wanted was Portia. To be with her, inside her, moving her toward the enjoyment he longed to see her experience.
* * *
The insistence of Kyle’s lips on hers, the way his fingers dug into her just a bit beyond sexual need, let her know that his desire ran as deep as hers. It wasn’t a time for anything but enjoying the present moment with him. They both knew it could end at any second.
The strips of condoms made soft splats as they hit the counter and floor, but not before Kyle had torn off one.
“Do you want to go to a...bedroom?” She didn’t know the house, didn’t personally care where they came together. All she wanted was him, wherever.
“What do you want?” he asked against her mouth before dragging his to her throat, his hands adeptly circling her waist and lifting her onto the island. “Tell me, Portia.”
But she couldn’t speak as his hand unzipped her coat and he helped her get her arms out of the sleeves. He shrugged out of his parka, too, and let it drop to the floor. Struck by the urgency of the moment, Portia raised her sweater and shirt over her head, throwing them onto the counter. Clad in only her bra and skirt, she still felt overdressed. She wanted to be skin-on-skin with Kyle.
“You’re stunning.” His eyes glittered with promise as he looked at her breasts, which spilled over her lacy pink demi-cup bra. He lowered his head and trailed his tongue along the plump skin, the moist heat of him hardening her nipples and making her squirm with desire on the counter. She wanted his tongue everywhere at once—in her mouth, on her breasts, between her legs.
His chuckle vibrated against her and he expertly undid her bra clasp with one hand, while the other gently pinched her nipple. Portia thought she was going to climax on the spot.
“Kyle!” She reached down, trying to get to his belt, but he leaned back, laughed again.
“Patience.” As she watched, he unbuckled his belt and shoved out of his pants and underwear in one move. He still wore a button-down shirt and she went to work on unfastening it. Kyle took advantage of her busy fingers to gently blow in her ear, nibble at her lobe.
As soon as his shirtfront was open, he helped by getting out of it and then lifting his undershirt over his head. Portia greedily watched him, saw how his pecs flexed under smooth skin. She leaned over and sucked his nipple into her mouth, but his skin was so taut, he was so chiseled, that it wasn’t much more than a nip. But it was enough to make him hiss, and she smiled as he gripped her head and tugged until her mouth was accessible.
This time the kiss wasn’t tentative or an invitation. It was full-on passion, with intent to take it as far as they could. When he hauled her up against him, holding her legs, her breasts flattened against his chest, Portia’s skin blazed as if he’d touched her everywhere. She linked her feet over his ass and reveled in the erotic sensations that rocked her. Their kiss was a whirl of tongues and gasps and tiny bites and more. It was a promise, a vow that this would be the hottest sex of her life.
Still holding her against him, her arms around his neck, Kyle walked them to the sofa in front of the fireplace and bank of windows that overlooked the rolling Appalachian Mountains. She’d have plenty of time to take in the view in the countless hours and days alone she knew she faced. Right now, she had Kyle and he was all she wanted.
He knelt next to the sofa and set her down. Anticipating their union, she moved to grasp his incredible erection but he stopped her.
“Not yet, Portia. You first.”
Before her head had even landed on a throw pillow, he’d spread her legs, held her at the sensitive top of her thighs and covered her sex with his mouth. Never had she been this turned on so quickly. It was as if they’d engaged in leisurely foreplay for hours and now she was primed and ready to come as his tongue did wicked things to her most private folds. Yet they’d only been in the house for what, ten minutes, tops?
He lifted his mouth from her and she looked into his eyes as she moaned her distress at the sudden loss of stimulation.
“Stop thinking. It’s you, me and this.” He lowered his head, and this time she didn’t think about anything but how his mouth felt on her. She reached down, ran her fingers through his short hair and couldn’t stop it, wouldn’t. The rolling orgasm hit her from her center and exploded out to every nerve ending. Her scream of release echoed around them in the mountain home, as tears streamed down her cheeks. The release was beyond complete.
And they’d only just begun.
Kyle held on to his erection, refusing to let Portia’s cries undo him right then and there, while she pulsed under his mouth. He tasted, smelled, felt nothing but Portia, and it was exquisite. But the best was yet to come. He almost laughed at his mental pun but thought better of it. He wanted this to be perfect for Portia.
Because she was so damned perfect for him.
He leaned up and kissed her forehead, smoothed back her hair. She opened her eyes and, instead of the languorous expression he expected, she grinned.
“You still have that condom?”
He couldn’t stop his answering grin if he wanted to. He ripped open the packet and donned protection before he hovered over her, their bodies so close. Portia was freaking beautiful.
“Kyle, stop teasing me. Please. Now.”
He’d never paused before, never felt such a need to soak it all in, appreciate every moment. He’d never been with a woman who’d taken him from sexual interest to unstoppable need like this, either.
“You ready, babe?” He gave her one last kiss before he plunged into her, savoring every inch of her sweet hotness as she closed around him. It was as if they’d done this a thousand times and yet, somewhere deep inside of him, he knew that every time with Portia would feel like the first time. Exciting, sexy, special.
Before he went down the feelings rabbit hole, his physical need took over and he pulled out, then thrust in again, harder this time, deeper. Portia’s heels lifted to his shoulders and he about died then and there, but managed to channel the turn-on into thrust after thrust, her sighs and moans affirmation that this was so, so good for her, too.
He wanted it to last all morning, all afternoon. He wanted to shove into Portia again and again, never breaking the intimate contact. When she cried out for the second time and pulsed around him, he couldn’t fight his release. It wasn’t like it had ever been with any other woman before.
With Portia, he’d found his mate. And it was the worst possible time to have found her.
Chapter 10
Kyle and Portia adopted a silent agreement after they’d given into their need for one another a few days ago. She told him that she understood that he needed space to work on the case, and he knew she didn’t want to distract him. They slept in separate rooms, he in a guest room and her in the master suite, and avoided being alone together for too long. It worked out, as Kyle was gone for at least fifteen hours a day, keeping track of Markova. He only left when he turned over her surveillance to another Trail Hiker, and arrived at the house each night, well past when Portia had gone to bed. The times they saw one another, usually in the kitchen over breakfast, she’d been quiet, a more reserved version of the woman he knew she was.
Guilt hassled him at every turn. He wanted to draw her out, make her stay here more enjoyable, but if he did, he’d risk getting in too deep with her again. Never a good idea during a case as heavy as ROC.
On the evening that marked the first week since he’d brought Portia to the country house, Kyle
knew she needed more than the phone calls with Annie. Brindle was filling in for Portia, with a temporary staffer acting as her librarian assistant, so Portia didn’t have any library work to do. He knew she spent hours each day on the gala, but still worried about her. Portia was a woman who thrived on community involvement. She was the epitome of community and she’d been shoved into a strange house, even though it was a beautiful one at that, with no end in sight.
He couldn’t shake his sense of culpability over her needing to stay in the strange house, yet keeping her safe remained his priority.
He found her laptop and stacks of papers splayed on the coffee table that separated the huge fireplace from the cozy oversize sofa. But no Portia. A quick glance at the French doors proved they were closed, that she was somewhere in the house. He walked down the hall that led to the bedrooms and saw that the light in hers was on, and heard water running from the master suite. She was taking a shower. Just like she’d done every other evening, after her late-afternoon workout.
Relief was impossible to ignore, and it was exactly the emotion that buoyed his steps back to the kitchen, where he began to set up dinner. The local Greek place was a favorite of hers; she’d told him as much over the deli sandwiches and tomato soup she’d made last night. He told himself he’d stopped and ordered the meal because keeping her fed and her strength up was part of his job.
But he knew it was complete BS. Portia’s smile was something he was willing to go to untold ends for, he was finding out.
Soft feet padded on the oak flooring, followed by the scent of her shower soap, or maybe it was her shampoo. Something vanilla but with extra spice added in.
Not that he wanted to pay attention to her that closely. Not touching her this last week had been excruciating, but by a silent agreement they’d both kept things platonic.
“That smells incredible. I didn’t know you cook—” She froze in place in front of the island, her mouth agape at the spread of spanakopita, freshly chopped Greek salad with creamy feta dressing, and skewered chicken and lamb.
