“We don’t have to,” he began.
“I know. But…” She let out a breath. “Even though we shouldn’t, don’t you want to?”
“Raye, if you take your gaze off the…” He frowned at the fields, which appeared recently planted. What could they plant in the fall? Did he care? “Look at me, and you’ll see how foolish that question is.”
She turned her head. He lowered his eyes, indicating her hand, which had crept upward as she stroked. Her fingertips were centimeters away from his erection.
She stilled; he could swear his penis stretched ever nearer. Seconds later her thumb brushed the tip and he cursed, his palms clenching the wheel.
“Sorry,” she said, but she didn’t sound sorry, and she didn’t move her hand.
The next hour was one of the most excruciating of his life, and he’d had some pretty excruciating hours. He didn’t think an erection could last that long without chemical aid. Then again, he’d never had occasion to find out.
Outside Raye’s apartment, they gathered the cat’s things, as well as the cat, and hurried up the steps.
“Detective!”
Bobby ran through a litany of curses in his head before he turned. “Chief.”
Johnson contemplated Bobby’s hands, full of litter box and Meow Mix, which he’d lowered so they hid his arousal, before moving on to Raye, who had her hands full of Samhain and kitty toys. “You spend the day getting a pet?”
“Long story. We’re kind of in the middle of it.”
“I’ve been waitin’ on you.”
Bobby’s teeth ground together. “Problem?” He hoped with all the hope he had that there hadn’t been another murder.
“We need to talk.”
“I’ll come by the station in a bit.”
“Now would be good.”
Bobby’s penis thought now would be good too, but not for what the chief had in mind.
“We—uh—haven’t eaten. I’ve got a pretty bad headache.”
Raye choked. Bobby kept his gaze on Johnson. If he glanced at her, he wasn’t sure what he’d say or do.
“All righty. I’ll just see you at the station in … an hour?”
“Um … yeah. We’ll be there.”
“We?” Raye repeated.
“You can’t stay here alone.”
“I don’t—” she began.
“I’ll send a man over.” Johnson backed away. “In an hour.”
“Okay,” Bobby said, but the chief was already headed toward the station.
“You think he bought the headache excuse?” Raye asked.
“Not a chance.”
Chapter 19
Though Bobby wanted to throw open the door, toss everything, including the cat, on the couch, then toss Raye on her back on the bed, he couldn’t. There was still a murderer on the loose. He made Raye stand just inside the door with Samhain while he checked the apartment.
“It’s all good,” he said as he came out of the bedroom.
Raye, crouched next to the closed door, straightened and a bell jangled. She must have been picking up a toy she’d dropped. But … hadn’t he told her to leave the door open? He couldn’t remember.
What if there’d been someone here? What if she’d had to run? Every second counted. However, the sight of her, even with an armful of cat toys and cat, made every thought but one disappear.
She must have seen the intent in his eyes because she shook her head. “Let me get her settled.”
And though his body howled, so did Samhain, at least until her vittles and water were set down and her restroom facilities established.
“All right,” Raye said. “What—”
His mouth came down on hers. For an instant Bobby thought the cat was yowling again, but it was merely need screaming through his blood. He’d spent the last hour with an untamed erection, the soft stroke of Raye’s hand on his thigh, the murmur of her voice, the scent of her skin— He couldn’t take it any more. He lifted her into his arms and did what he’d been imagining.
She bounced when he tossed her on the bed. He shut the door, flicked the lock. He knew the cat couldn’t open it, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Not with this. Not with her.
Raye’s face flushed with laughter. Her lips, damp and a little red from his, parted. He licked his own and tasted her. The beast that had been mumbling just below the surface of his blood roared. He pulled his shirt over his head, kicked off his shoes, laid his gun on the bedside table, and shucked his pants. His skin heated beneath her gaze.
“You’re so beautiful,” she said.
“I’m a guy.” He flexed his biceps like Arnold. “I’m manly, not beautiful.”
“Can’t you be both?”
His arm lowered. “I’ll be anything you like.”
Something flickered across her face, and his playful mood died. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”