She turned the shower to scalding and thought about the crushed granola bar at the bottom of her computer bag. She’d ignored it for weeks, but right now she was famished enough to eat it. She walked into the bedroom and gave a startled yelp at the sight of Derek leaning casually against the wall.
How’d you get in here? was on the tip of her tongue, but she bit back the words, refusing to give him the satisfaction. She glanced at the drapes. He’d gotten past the sliding glass door somehow. Or maybe not. He could just as easily have gotten past the front door, or sweet-talked the desk clerk, or shimmied through a damn vent if he wanted to. In his world, there wasn’t a place or a person that was off-limits.
“Looking a little tired, Liz. Rough night?”
“You shouldn’t be here.” She crossed the room and checked the peephole. The sidewalk was empty, so she hoped no one had seen him.
“You get an agent over to Lexi’s?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
She snatched her jacket off the chair and hung it in the closet. She pulled off her mud-caked shoes and chucked them beside her suitcase.
She returned to the bathroom, and he had the nerve to follow her right in as she turned off the shower. She fumed at him through the cloud of steam.
“Gordon wants you in custody,” she said. “I’m supposed to arrest you on sight.”
He smiled. “What’s stopping you?”
She whisked past him, but he shot an arm across the doorway, blocking her.
“I promise not to resist.” He slid his free hand around her and tugged the handcuffs from her waistband. He held them up in front of her.
She ducked under his arm and crossed the bedroom, swiftly unbuckling the belt that held her holster. He had a thing about women with guns. She knew that. And she wasn’t going to stand here feeding his little fantasy while he laughed at her.
He sauntered over. “You’re ticked off.”
“You’re observant.” She set her Glock and holster on the dresser.
“You think I’m being an ass.”
Damn him. When had he slipped in here?
He stepped closer. “I got you in trouble with your boss, didn’t I?”
She folded her arms. He took another step until he was inches away, the handcuffs still dangling from his fingers. He held them up.
“Go ahead. Cuff me.”
She calmly took the handcuffs and just as calmly placed them on the dresser beside her firearm, but she couldn’t keep her cheeks from flushing as she glared up at him.
He moved closer. She flinched as he rested his hand at her hip where her gun had been, and his thumb seemed to burn right through the fabric as he traced her hip bone.
“Come on.” His voice was low. “What are you afraid of?”
“I know what you’re doing. You’re egging me on, and I’m not afraid of you, so get that through your thick head.”
He eased closer, close enough that his thighs brushed hers, close enough that the solid mass of his chest was right in front of her.
“Know what, Liz?” He dipped his head down, and his breath tickled her temple. “I think you’re lying.”
Chapter Fifteen
His mouth crushed against hers, hot and demanding. He tasted like the other night—like bourbon—and she knew he’d been out drinking with a stripper while she’d been driving around the city searching for him. Knowing it should have made her want to smack him, but her hands were too busy sliding over his shoulders and tangling in his hair. This was a bad idea. She knew it, but she couldn’t push him away. In fact, she was pulling him closer.
After hours of chaos and frustration, he was actually here. She should follow orders and take him into the office for paperwork and interviews, but she wasn’t taking him anywhere. She wanted him alone. She wanted him in her bed, under her, with his mouth all over her and his hands everywhere and his three-day beard scraping her skin. He changed the angle of his kiss and went after her with a fierceness that shocked her and thrilled her all at once.
God, he could kiss. He kissed with the same power and confidence that had attracted her from the beginning. No hesitation, just a brutal onslaught against all of her senses.
She tugged his T-shirt from his jeans and slid her hands under the cotton to feel the warm hardness of his skin. His tongue tangled with hers, challenging her on yet another level as his body pinned her against the dresser.
She couldn’t believe she was kissing him like this after so many months of yearning and wondering. After so many months of telling herself she was going to steer clear, stay away, protect herself from the heartache that would inevitably follow this stupid, stupid decision.
But it didn’t feel stupid right now—in fact, it felt unbelievably good to have his wide shoulders under her hands and his body pressed against her. She combed her fingers up into his hair and rocked her hips against him, and the groan deep in his chest gave her a rush of adrenaline. Was she really doing this? Right in this room, barely a stone’s throw away from all the people she worked with? She dug her nails into his scalp and kissed him with a vengeance that pushed the doubts and logic out of her mind.
His knuckles brushed against her stomach as he worked the button of her pants free, and she heard the soft hiss of the zipper. She pulled back, and their gazes locked as her slacks slid to the floor. Her legs felt bare and exposed. The hot intensity in his eyes made her stomach flutter and made her think again about what she was doing, but before she could voice any objections, his hands closed around her waist, and he lifted her onto the dresser as if she weighed nothing. He clutched the back of her knee and hitched her thigh up to his waist, and she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him close.
“You are so fucking sexy.” His mouth burned a trail over her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes and stroked her hands over his shoulders. They were so big—he was so big, everything about him.
They kissed and kissed until she felt like she was going to combust, and then he unhooked her ankles behind him. He dropped to a crouch to untie his boots, still watching her, desire burning in his eyes as he jerked the laces.
He was here. They were doing this. The determined look on his face made her ears ring and her pulse race. He stood up, then toed off his boots and kicked them away.
She reached for the waistband of his jeans and pulled him closer as he yanked the shirt over his head. And then they were fighting with his belt, his button, his zipper.
“Hurry, or I’ll lose my nerve.”
“No, you won’t,” he growled, nipping her neck. He shoved his jeans down, and she squeezed her legs around him as hard as she could. He lifted her right up off of the dresser and carried her to the bed and laid her back on it with surprising gentleness. His movements were careful, but the fierce look in his eyes made her heart skitter.
And then her gaze slid down his body, and her heart nearly stopped altogether.
Oh, my God. She sat up on her elbows to look. She traced a hand over his shoulder, his chest, his perfectly sculpted abs. He rested his knee between her thighs, and he stretched out over her, supporting himself with his arms as she looked at him in awe. She knew he kept in peak physical condition. She knew he spent hours and hours a week running and swimming and lifting and God only knew what else. But actually seeing the evidence of it . . .
“Wow,” she said, and her cheeks warmed, because it sounded so childish.
He smiled and kissed her, and she ran her hands over his shoulders, unable to get enough of him, so blown away it was almost embarrassing. No, it definitely was embarrassing. She’d never been with a man who was so completely male in every conceivable way. She squirmed out from under him, and he gave her a confused look as she nudged him onto his back. Heat flared in his eyes, and she felt the shift in equilibrium as she shoved him back against the bed and straddled him.
“I need to just—” She settled herself against his erection, and he closed his eyes and groaned.
“Sorry.” She brushed her hair from her eyes. “I need to look at you.”