She smiled. “Who am I to argue?”
He raised her arms above her head and skimmed his palms down them, until he reached her breasts. At a maddening, deliberate pace, he found buttons, hooks, a zipper, tugged at fabric, every touch of his fingers drawing a response from her. Her skin heated, her pulse quickened.
She started to bring her hands down to speed up the process, but he gently shoved them back. “Uh-uh. My job.”
He continued until he had removed every last stitch of clothing from her. And still he kept her hands in place as his explored her. He kissed her so deeply, so erotically, it was as if their mouths had fused together.
Mackenzie wriggled under him, fought for air. “Andrew…I don’t think I can stand it anymore…”
“Do you want me to stop?”
She shook her head. “Not ever. I just…”
But he’d already lowered his mouth to her neck, trailed kisses down to her breasts, lingered there, stealing all thought of what she’d intended to say, all thought of anything except the exquisite wet heat of his tongue. The fact that he was still fully clothed only made her ache more.
He moved lower still, circling, flicking, nipping, and she gave herself up to the sensations roaring through her, opened herself up to the movement of his tongue and the scrape of his teeth, the probing of his fingers. She spun closer and closer to the edge, to abandoning all control.
Then he pulled back suddenly, and raised up, a flash of amusement in his dark eyes. “My turn to get undressed.”
She tried to sit up and at least help, but her body wouldn’t cooperate. She was quivering, aching. He had no trouble managing on his own, tossing his clothes onto the floor with hers, then coming to her, letting her cup his firm bottom and smooth her hands up his hips and along his back, every inch of him warm and hard. She reached between them, but he lifted himself up, then filled her with such suddenness and ferocity she cried out.
But he didn’t stop, and she didn’t want him to. He plunged impossibly deep into her, stretching her, filling her with a kind of sweet agony she’d never known, and when he thrust again, he went deeper yet. All his confidence and drive made her want him even more. She grabbed his hips, felt her fingers dig in, and held him still, just for a moment. Their eyes locked, and he gazed down at their joined bodies, then looked back at her again, mouthed her name as he drove into her, faster and faster, taking her breath away.
She came in waves, feeling her release down to her toes, but he wasn’t finished. She threw her arms over her head and let herself feel nothing but each quick, hard thrust, until he moaned, grunting as he exploded into her.
Finally spent, he rolled onto his back next to her. A stiff breeze blew over them, and she could feel her pulse racing, although her body was relaxed and loose from their lovemaking.
“I hope we didn’t disturb the neighbors,” she said, still a little breathless.
He eased onto his side and smiled at her. “We?”
“I don’t know, Rook. You break all my rules. You’re in law enforcement, you’re a total hard-ass, you’re a city guy -”
“My brothers and I hike all the time.” He traced a finger along her upper arm. “What kind of man do you want?”
She grinned at him. “One who’s handy.”
“After the past hour I’d say I’m pretty damn handy.”
“Touché.”
“Not as humorless as you thought, am I?”
“You’re full of surprises, I’ll say that.” Mackenzie felt a rush of heat, remembering the feel of him inside her. “I meant, do you know how to use a hammer? Can you build things?”
“I’ve done most of the work so far on this place.”
“It’s nice,” she said, her energy suddenly starting to fade. “You’ve done a good job. I like the skylights.”
“There’s more work to do.”
“I’ve never owned my own house. I’ve always rented.” She caught his hand in hers, looked him in the eye. “We were doing fine. A couple of nice dates, enjoying each other’s company. Then you dump me.”
“And you flew to New Hampshire to lick your wounds and got into a knife fight.” He locked his fingers with hers and drew closer to her. “I don’t claim to know what the hell’s going on, but if you’d stayed here last weekend things would have been different.”
She rose up slightly, feeling a tug of pain in her side, a reminder that she wasn’t fully healed. “If I’d stayed, we wouldn’t have a description of Harris’s killer.”
“His likely killer.”
“I know. ‘Be led by facts, not speculation.’” She dropped back onto the pillow. “My brain’s not working anymore. It’s fried.”
He kissed her on the mouth, the nose, the forehead. “Sleep,” he whispered. But she touched his side, ran her fingertips along the muscles of his abdomen, and, impossibly, felt a renewed spark.