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It wasn’t a gentle pop this time. The orgasm came in one hard, fast wave that swamped her, drowned her, then tossed her helplessly over the next crest.
She moaned out his name. It was always his name. But when she reached for him, he cuffed her wrists, drew her arms over her head. “No.” His own breathing was uneven and thick as he stared down at her. “Just take it. Take me.”
He slipped inside her slowly, inch by inch, watching her eyes go blind and dark as he moved. Clamping down on the urge to ravish, to answer the sudden wild pistoning of her hips, he let her drive herself over the next edge.
And when she was limp and her breathing in tatters, he shifted to long, steady strokes. “Take more,” he murmured, swallowing her groans, holding her captive, hands, mouth, loins. “And more.”
Her system was overloaded, scrambled like her pulse. Her body was under siege, her sex so sensitized the wild pleasure was akin to pain. And still he moved slowly, lazily. “I can’t,” she managed, and her head whipsawed even as her hips arched for more. “It’s too much.”
“Let go, Eve.” He was holding onto control by his fingernails. “Once more.”
He didn’t let himself fall until she did.
Her head was still spinning when she managed to push herself up on her elbows. Amazingly, they were both still half dressed and on top of the spread. From the corner of the bed, Galahad sat watching her with feline disgust. Or maybe it was envy.
Roarke had rolled over on his back and had what could only be interpreted as a smug smile on his lips.
“I guess that flexed your testosterone.”
His smile spread wider. She jabbed a finger into his ribs.
“If that was to punish me, you missed the target.”
Now he opened his eyes and they were filled with warm amusement. “Darling Eve, did you really think I’d consider your little adventure some sort of virtual adultery?”
She pouted a little. However ridiculous it was, she was miffed that he wasn’t at all jealous. “Maybe.”
With a long sigh, he sat up, set his hands on her shoulders. “You can indulge in fantasy professionally or personally. I’m not your keeper.”
“It doesn’t bother you?”
“Not in the least.” He gave her a friendly kiss, then caught her chin firmly in his hand. “Try it in the flesh, even once, and I’ll have to kill you.”
Her pupils widened, and foolishly her heart gave a pleased little leap. “Oh, well, that’s fair.”
“That’s fact,” he said simply. “Now that we have that straightened out, you should get some sleep.”
“I’m not tired anymore.” She tugged her slacks back over her hips and made him sigh again.
“I suppose that means you want to work.”
“If I could use your system, just for a couple of hours, I could get a jump on my legwork tomorrow.”
Resigned, he pulled on his own slacks. “Let’s go then.”
“Thanks.” She tucked her hand in his companionably as they walked toward the private elevator. “Roarke, you wouldn’t really kill me, would you?”
“Oh yes, I would.” Smiling easily, he nudged her into the car. “But, given our relationship, I would trouble to do so quickly, and with as little pain as possible.”
She shot him a glance. “Then I’ll have to say same goes.”
“Naturally. East wing, third level,” he ordered, and gave her hand a companionable squeeze. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
chapter thirteen
For the next few days, Eve beat her head against the wall of every dead end. When she needed a change of pace to clear her mind, she beat Peabody’s head against the wall. She hounded Feeney to eke out whatever free time he could to find her something. Anything.
She gritted her teeth when other cases landed on her desk, and she worked overtime.
