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She smiled now. “I’ll probably have to do something, and you’ll probably get pissed off.”
“But we’ll have tried.”
“Yeah. So in case trying doesn’t turn out to
be enough, let me say this now. I love you.”
The pleasure rose warm in him, circled his heart. Again his arms went around her, again his mouth lowered to hers. “No one but you,” he murmured. “Always.”
She wrapped around him, hard and tight, giving what he needed before he asked. All. Everything. It undid him, this love, for her and from her. The depth and breadth of it left him weak and wanting, desperate and staggered.
She poured herself into the kiss and filled him. And still, he thought, there would always be more.
However many times they’d loved each other, how many ways, it was always now, and always new. The taste of her, familiar and fresh, stirred him like the first time. Those strong arms around him, that mouth both pliant and avid. Yes, this was everything. This was all.
His murmur came from the core of his heart, in the language of his blood. “A grha.”
He lifted her. That quick, careless strength, the sensation of being taken made her head spin. His power, hers, combined so she felt just a little drunk when he laid her on the bed, when his body covered hers. The weight, the shape, the feel of him. How could she ever get enough?
Had all the years they’d both starved for love caused this bottomless need for each other? His scent—she turned her face into his throat, breathing him in. His touch—and arched under the stroke of his hands. His taste—that punch of sensation whenever their mouths met.
No one else had ever brought her here. No one else had ever compelled her to take him with her.
Slow, dreamy, drugging, hands and lips, sighs and movement. His shirt and hers peeled away so flesh could meet flesh, so hands could roam over curves, over planes to entice and delight.
The long lines of her never failed to fascinate and arouse him. The shape of her—the subtle curves captivated him with those seductive contrasts. Skin so soft, so smooth over rigidly toned muscle.
A warrior’s body, he often thought. One who gave herself to him and brought him endless thrill, and impossible peace. She trembled for him, rose up and over. Lost as he was lost. And when he slipped inside her, she said his name. Said his name as her body arched up to his, as she twined around him, as their eyes met.
He was inside there, too, he thought. In those eyes, in that gilted brown. Lost, and found. And it was her name on his lips as they took each other.
7
EVE CONTACTED PEABODY WITH ORDERS TO REturn to Central and follow up with EDD. She’d keep her partner in reserve regarding interviews with Alex Ricker. It seemed good strategy for her and Roarke to meet the son of the man who’d enjoy seeing the pair of them slow-roasted over an open fire without additional cop presence.
As she maneuvered through morning traffic to the Park Avenue condo, she hoped it wasn’t a mistake.
“I need information from him,” Eve began. “More, I need to get a sense of what his relationship was with Coltraine—if they had a relationship.”
“All right.” As she drove, Roarke continued to work with his PPC.
“He’s not going to like us, or appreciate finding us on his doorstep. His father’s locked in a cage. We turned the key.”
“One of my fondest memories.”
“Which is exactly what we can’t push in his face if we want any kind of cooperation.”
“And you think I’ll go in with a neener-neener?”
She’d have laughed at the term if she hadn’t been concerned he’d go in with the Roarke equivalent. The ice-cold fuck-you look. “I’m saying we either distance ourselves from past history, or use it. Depending on his reaction. His reaction may tell us if Coltraine’s murder was, in any way, connected to us. I need something from him, so approach matters.”
Roarke smiled a little, spoke blandly. “And, of course, I know nothing about the art of negotiation and interview.”
“I’ve seen you work, pal. I don’t want him squealing for a lawyer because you put on Scary Roarke.”
“I’ve seen you work, pal. So I’d advise you to keep Lieutenant Kick-Ass under wraps.”
She scowled before swinging over to the curb in front of the dignified old building. “I need to set the tone, the pace.”
