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“That you should stop talking.” She traced her fingers over his sides, just above his belt, and was surprised when he trembled at her touch.
“I’m in a position of influence. I need to know you don’t feel pressured.” A conflicted expression warred in his eyes as he searched her face. “Shit, we shouldn’t be doing this. I lost my head.”
“I don’t see a suit or a badge, just clothes that need to come off.” She tugged at the hem of his shirt, gliding her fingers over the taut muscles beneath cotton. He shuddered when her palms smoothed across his hips. She had only been intimate with two others. Both brief and unsatisfying flings in her reckless late teens when she was trying to find an escape from mourning her losses. Sex had only increased the hollowness in her heart, and she was afraid it wasn’t going to be any different with Gus. Worse in many ways because she was so drawn to him, respected him. The connection between them was undeniable, though, magnetic even. The desperate ache only he could soothe was eating her alive.
“Be sure.” His eyes bore into hers.
How could I not be? “I am.” She looked up at him from under her lashes, inched his shirt up higher.
He did the rest, tearing it over his head, tossing it. She held her hair up, away from her neck, and turned, exposing the zipper of her sundress. Sasha glanced over her shoulder as his unsteady fingers met her skin, drawing the closure down. She turned, let the dress drop, and his pupils exploded into spheres of black.
“My God, you’re beautiful.” His voice was a hoarse whisper. The rough pads of his fingertips caressed the outline of her breasts. He lowered his head, lips closing over one taut nipple through sheer lace as he lightly pinched the other between his fingers. She drew in a sharp breath, riding out the onslaught of feelings racking her body. The tingling sensation shooting through her stomach, the intense throb at the junction of her hips. Before she could blink, he’d tucked her beneath him and shifted them both on the couch. The weight of his hips was fused against hers, his hard length rigid against her stomach. She wrapped her legs around his waist, frantic to have him pressed against her. He nibbled at the nape of her neck, moving up to her mouth, and she opened for him, welcoming his lips against hers and choking down a groan as their tongues mimicked an intimate rhythm. How their bodies would move when he was deep inside of her. The mental image made her hum with pleasure.
Gus paused, eyes glazed with temptation. “What’d I do to make you moan like that? Because I damn well want to do it again.”
“The thought of having you bottomed out inside me.” Telling him what was on her mind had a blush creeping up her cheeks, but it was impossible to ignore a question from this man. He quietly commanded answers.
“Christ, Sasha. Say things like that and I’m going to last all of thirty seconds.” He was braced above her, the muscles of his arms corded. It was a powerful feeling that she could make this big man’s knees buckle, his control on the verge of snapping. “I want to give you more than fast and hard on the couch.”
She reached her hands between their bodies and undid the button on his pants. “Fast and hard sounds just right.” Those hazel eyes flooded heat, white hot and impatient, before his lips crashed down on hers, swallowing both of their groans. Using the tips of her toes, she slid his pants down around his knees, and he kicked them off the rest of the way.
“You’re sure you don’t want me to stop?” His hoarse voice was strained as he struggled to catch his breath.
“Could you?’ she murmured, leaving a trail of kisses along his jawline.
He instantly stilled and looked down at her. “If it killed me.” His voice was so serious, eyes so direct, she believed him. Gus would never hurt her.
She matched his tone, moving her hands on either side of his face. “I want you. Since the first time I saw you, I’ve wanted you.”
Supporting his weight with one hand, Gus fumbled with his discarded jeans, pulling out his wallet. His body was so rugged, his eyes so soft and expressive, and God, he was all man. Never had she been an impatient lover, but Gus had her so keyed up she couldn’t stand another second when he wasn’t wrapped around her. The tear of a foil packet made her nearly sob with relief, and Gus’s weight momentarily eased off her. There was an instant sense of loss, her skin chilling without him covering her. She looked down at his impressive erection. Considered his substantial length and girth. The human body is designed to stretch, accommodate.
“You’re so small. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.” He gripped the base, guiding the tip until it pressed against her core. “Anything doesn’t feel good, speak up.”
She nodded to placate him, knowing he’d never continue if she didn’t. “Make me forget.” Maybe she was talking about the past. Maybe the present. It didn’t matter. The only thing that did at this moment was the man above her, lighting her skin up like sparklers. When he finally stopped teasing and slowly pressed inside, giving her time to adjust to his size, the initial discomfort morphed into pleasure. Despite the differences in stature, they fit like two halves of a whole, moving together in sync. There was no room for thoughts of murder and death here. Not with Gus trailing kisses down her neck, his breath tickling her skin. He surrounded her. An impenetrable fortress that nothing and no one could breach. With each thrust, the pressure built between her hips, blinding release just out of reach.
“Tell me, sweetheart. What do you need?” His eyes, his voice, all heat and smoke.
“I…” She just didn’t know, lacked the experience to verbalize what would tip her over the edge. She’d never had an orgasm during sex. Didn’t know if it was possible for her. But she was close. So freaking close. He leaned back and hooked one of her legs over his shoulder, the angle drawing him even deeper inside her. With all his weight bolstered on the forearm above her head, he reached between their bodies and roughly thumbed the sensitive bundle of nerves between her legs. She gasped, the sensation gripping her.
“That’s it, sweetheart. I can feel you choking me. So fucking perfect.” His ground-out words were the catalyst. There was no warning, just an instant detonation wracking her body, sending shockwaves quaking through her legs, rolling through her stomach. His name tore from her lips, but he didn’t let up, extending her release until it was nearly too much.
He growled and stilled above her. God, he was beautiful lost in his own pleasure, jaw set, muscles rigid. Unpolished and raw. She’d paint this from memory. How he looked at exactly this moment. Gus rolled them both with easy strength, so she was lying on top of him, still joined together. His arms wrapped around her, holding her firmly against his chest, the wild drum of his heart pounding alongside her own racing pulse. She could stay in the cocoon of his embrace forever, listening to their ragged breath.
Chapter Ten
Gus held Sasha against him, nose buried in her lemon-sugar-scented hair, and tried to gauge the time. Gold light played behind his lids as he memorized how the dips and curves of her body tucked so perfectly against him. Christ, she’d loved him so thoroughly throughout the night. Brought him to his knees on every level. There had never been a time when he’d been more sated, more content than he was right now. He didn’t want to face the fact that he’d fucked up. Royally. He had no business lying in her bed, touching her like he had. Coming to her house yesterday had been a mistake. He’d tried to talk himself out of visiting her off-duty, but he couldn’t keep himself away. Needed to see with his own eyes that she was safe. The thought of her scared and alone in this big house turned his stomach.
Then he’d pulled into the driveway, noticed the BMW with the Harvard campus parking sticker on the back window, and part of him was relieved she wasn’t alone. The other darker, animalistic side of him fought against the burning sensation that ripped through his stomach, but he’d clamped down on it. Sasha wasn’t his, even if he wanted her to be. He’d make sure she was all right, then leave, but the moment she opened the door, sundress the color of buttercups swirling just above her knees, he couldn’t move, let alone form one coherent word.
They’d just stared at each other, eyes locked in place, the rise and fall of their breath getting faster. He’d never been so physically in tune with another human being. Her eyes were so expressive it was like seeing inside her heart. And then her friend called to her from the hallway. A friend who wanted her as something more. Who could blame him? He was damn glad to be there to help Sasha out of an uncomfortable situation. A piece of him had withered and rotted when Ted wrapped his arms around her body, touched his mouth to her cheek, then roared to life again when Sasha denied feeling that way for him in return. If she hadn’t been so insistent, meeting him beat-for-beat, giving back as good as she got, he could’ve been satisfied with a kiss. Being with Sasha, though, was like being the dried, hollowed-out wood scattered among a forest fire. She’d consumed him, and hell if he didn’t love every second of it.
Sasha stirred, eliciting a little moan of pleasure in her sleep before wiggling closer to him. Something in his chest cracked and steeped in warmth. The emotions swamping him were overwhelming—ones he could afford to think of. He couldn’t change what they’d done, but there was no way it could happen again. His integrity and credibility weren’t the only things on the line. Families were counting on him to solve their loved ones’ murders. To provide closure in a horrific situation.
“Mmm.” Sasha turned in his arms, smooth, bare legs twining with his, arms around his waist. “What are you thinking so hard about?” she asked in a sleepy voice, lids heavy over those dark-blue eyes. Damn. Why did she have to be so fucking perfect?
“How do you know I was?” His lips twitched.
She was cute and rumpled, clearly not a morning person. Her hair had taken on a life of its own in the night, making her look more petite beneath the mane of spirals. Curls spilled with abandon around her shoulders, in front of her face, that vibrant shade falling somewhere between deep saffron and bold autumn red.
