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“It’s surprisingly exhilarating.”
“I’ll stick with chasing down psychopaths for my thrills, thanks.”
She wondered if he’d gone horseback riding with Magdelana. She wondered how many times he’d ridden Magdelana.
Goddamn it.
She turned in the bedroom doorway, pushed him back against the jamb and pressed her lips to his in an avid, energetic kiss. “Or that’s good,” she said, and took a quick bite of his lower lip, “as second place on the thrill-o-meter.”
“Second place, is it?”
“Well, psychos are pretty damn thrilling.”
“I’ll just have to try harder, won’t I?” He reversed their positions quickly, had his mouth on hers, his hands under her sweatshirt. “Wouldn’t want my wife seeking out homicidal maniacs just for a bit of a rush, would I?”
“All in a day’s work. But…” She boosted herself up, wrapped her legs around his waist. “I’ve clocked out.”
Their mouths met again, hot and seeking. Then she took hers on a crazed journey of his face, his throat. The taste, his taste—it was everything she craved. He was everything.
She kept her legs locked around him when he lowered her to the bed, wound her arms around his neck. “Tell me you want me.”
“Always. Endlessly.”
“Show me.”
Desire. She could feel it in him. In his hands, in the way they moved over her, in what they took, in what they gave. She could taste it on his lips, that heat.
And still it wasn’t enough. She knew only that she needed more.
For the first time since they’d come together, she wasn’t sure what that more was. She only knew there was a small, cold place inside her that hadn’t been there before. She needed it warmed, she needed it filled.
Desperate, she rolled with him, dragging at his sweater, digging her fingers into flesh and muscle. “Touch me,” she demanded. “Touch me. Touch me.”
Her urgency surprised him. Aroused him. So he feasted on her skin, used his hands to take her over. She moaned his name, a sound of both pleasure and plea. And still she quaked, quivered with needs not yet met.
“Eve.” He lay a hand on her cheek, wanting to see her eyes, to see into them. “Look at me.”
She did what he asked, struggling to let herself fall away. Just fall away. “Inside me. I want you inside me.”
She rose up, not in offer but demand, and guided him to her.
Linked, as only they could be, she told herself. Their rhythm, their heat, their scent. She watched him watch her until her vision blurred. Until there was only speed and movement, the building—frantic and wild—toward that final, sharp-edged release.
When she lay curled against him, her skin dewed from passion, there was still that small, cold place inside her where the heat hadn’t quite reached.
In the morning, he was up and out of bed before she was. But he wasn’t in the sitting area, drinking coffee while he watched the financial reports on screen.
She readied for the day, keenly missing the routine—the conversation, sharing breakfast. Why wasn’t he there, telling her she was wearing the wrong jacket with the wrong pants?
And the night before? Why hadn’t he pushed himself into her work? Why wasn’t he here, right now, nagging her to eat something?
She strapped on her weapon harness with an irritated jerk. It was just fine. He was busy, so was she. She didn’t need or want the man in her pocket every hour of the day.
She strode to her office to retrieve files, though she’d already copied them to her unit at Central. She turned casually toward his office door, had taken only one step when she heard his voice.
“No, I was up. Yes, old habits die hard.”
On the ’link, Eve realized, and since there was only his voice, he had it on privacy mode.
