His eyes darkened with desire.
There was nothing sweet and chaste about what came next.
Ronan claimed me with a deep, devastating kiss, the silken heat of his mouth sending waves of pleasure straight to my core. He tasted like coffee and cloves and a warm fire on a crisp, autumn night, and I couldn’t get enough of him, all those pent-up moments and close calls and near misses between us finally crashing together in this intense, perfect explosion.
My lips tingled, and I slid my hands around the back of his neck, teasing and tugging his silky-soft hair. I nipped and sucked at his bottom lip, and a low moan rumbled through his chest, primal and hungry.
It made me instantly, undeniably wet.
I did that. I made that sound come out of him with just a kiss…
Ronan slid a hand inside the back of my shirt, his strong, hot fingers burning a path up my spine. I arched my hips to get closer, desperate for—
The door banged open, followed by a low, throaty laugh that had to belong to the wolf shifter. “Well now. Glad to see my lateness didn’t ruin your day.”
I broke our kiss, my cheeks heating, but Ronan wouldn’t let me go. Not before pinning me with another blazing-hot look, then leaning in to whisper a final promise, breath hot and silky in my ear. “To be continued.”
I was still panting when I finally pulled away from him and turned toward the doorway, smoothing my hair.How had he managed to knot it up so quickly?“Detective Alvarez. Hi. We were just…”
Alvarez held up a hand. “I’m a detective, Miss Desario. Pretty sure I can figure it out.”
“Sorry,” I managed, my lips swollen and hot.
Ronan laughed. “I’m not.”
The detective sighed, making an effort to look annoyed. But just before he turned to shut the door, I caught the lie in his eyes.
Detective Emilio Alvarez wasn’t annoyed at all.
He was turned on.
Twenty-One
Emilio
Gray looked at me like the proverbial kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar, her cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink.
Ronan looked at me like he wanted to tear my head off for breaking up their make-out session. It was all I could do not to gloat—I’d been calling this for years. Ronan liked to play dumb when it came to his feelings for Gray, but anyone who knew them could see that particular bit of writing on the wall.
The Precinct Seventeen interrogation room wasn’t the most romantic place in Blackmoon Bay, but I couldn’t blame them for getting cozy. Spend a little time up close and personal with death, and eventually you’ll run hard and fast for the thing that makes you feel the most alive.
“Thanks for coming in,” I said. The scent of their desire hung heavy in the air, making me wish I hadn’t been saddled with the unfortunate combination of wolf senses and the sex life of an eighty-year-old monk.
Ronan folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall, making no effort to hide the bulge in his pants.
Jesus, how long had they been at it?
“I’m assuming no one gets called down here forgoodnews.” Ronan said. “What’s going on?”
I tossed my case file on the table and pulled out a chair, gesturing for them to join me. Ronan stayed put, but Gray took the chair across from me, blinking up at me with those huge blue eyes of hers—same trusting, expectant look she’d given me the night she’d finally come back to consciousness in my arms, wrapped up in blankets on Ronan’s couch all those years ago.
She didn’t remember it, though. And until and unless she did, I’d be keeping the warmth of that memory to myself.
“This isn’t easy,” I said, hating that I had to bring her in like this. Thinking about her the other night at the house… It damn near gutted me. She’d been so strong, so brave. But anyone who looked into her eyes for more than half a second could see this was tearing her apart.
“Please,” she said. “Whatever it is… Just tell us.”
Sometimes I really hate this job.
