She’d underestimated him, she knew that now. She’d been so sure they’d just jump in, and she’d rid herself of this damn itch he’d left her with.
But he lured her into wanting more, into giving more, feeling more.
When he plucked her off her feet, she felt her heart skip, heard her breath catch. Then he took her mouth again. God, he was good at it. As he laid her on the bed, she drew him down with her, absorbing his weight, the shape of him, before she rolled to reverse positions.
“I can do slow.” She dipped her lips to his, a soft brush, a tease. “But I want, too.”
Watching him again, she finished unbuttoning his shirt, toed and kicked off her boots. Stretched over him, she nipped at his jaw. “I like your face. Lean, angular, the eyes deep set in that quiet green that’s really not quiet at all. I’ve done sketches of your face.”
“You have?”
“Trying to decide what to do with you.” She tossed her hair back, smiled down at him. “I decided this part of it.” She ran her hands down his sides, then stopped with a jerk. “You’re wearing a gun.”
“Sorry. Sorry.” He rolled her back, sat up. “I didn’t think of it.” He unclipped it, shoved it in the drawer of the nightstand.
“You forget you’re wearing it because it’s part of who you are.”
“Of what I do.”
“And who you are.”
He shifted around, saw her kneeling on the bed behind him. “It’s all right,” she told him. “Just gave me a jolt for a minute. But who knows the good guys from the bad guys better than you and me? I really wish you’d undress me now.”
“I can do that.”
“But you should take off your boots first, so I can do the same with you.”
“Good idea.” He bent over to drag at the laces.
“How long since you’ve done this?”
“Since—” Before he’d been shot, he nearly said. “Since last fall, for one reason or another.”
“A long time. It’s been a long time for me, too. For one reason or another. Maybe we could speed it up. Just a little.”
“Also a good idea.” He turned back, knelt with her to pull the sweater over her head. She wore a black bra, cut low. “Man. Sorry, but I’m going to have to take another moment.”
When he put his hands on her, she let her head fall back. “You can take a moment. Or two. You have good hands, Reed. Strong, confident.”
“I’ve wanted them on you. Just like this.”
“You never pushed.”
“Worth waiting.”
She lifted her head, opened her eyes. “Wait’s over.”
She yanked at his shirt, pressed against him, gave herself over to the next kiss. Hungrier now. Harder. She dragged at his belt as the need swamped her.
Around them, the room exploded with lightning, and thunder answered in a roar. Rain lashed, driven by the howling wind.
He pushed her back, dragging at her jeans as she dragged at his.
“We’ll slow down after,” she managed.
“Best idea yet. Let me…”
His mouth rushed over her. So much to taste, so much to feel. When his hands found her, hot, wet, ready, she arched against him with a ragged moan.
“Don’t wait, don’t wait.”
“Can’t.” He stripped her down, plunged in.
The world shattered, and at last, at long last, he let himself take. He gripped her hands as if to hold them both tethered to the bed. Her legs locked around him as her hips flashed, as she demanded more, more.
She tightened around him, an urgent fist, but he held on, barely held on, so there could be more even when she cried out.
She gathered again, groaning with the build, rising and falling with him.
This time when she broke, she said his name. And buried in her, he let go.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The two of them stayed tangled, sweaty, breathless while the wind slapped the rain into ice, and the ice hit the windows with the sound of hot grease sizzling. If he’d had his way, Reed would have stayed just as he was, smug and satisfied with the girl of his dreams, until spring.
Seriously smug, he thought as Simone’s hands trailed up and down his back. Then her fingers traced the scar from the exit wound in his shoulder.
He shifted, braced on his elbows to look down at her. “You have the most amazing eyes.”
“They’re brown.”
“Some artist you are if ‘brown’ is the best you’ve got. They’re like a tiger’s eyes. Like dark amber. We okay here?”
“Some police chief you are if, with all the evidence, ‘okay’ is the best you’ve got.”
“I was being modest. You really need to stay. It’s bad out there,” he continued before she could agree or refuse. “Really bad. I’ll admit if this was a balmy night in June I’d want you to stay for, oh, forever. Unless CiCi gives in, then I’d have to kick you out.”
“You’re talking about making it with my grandmother when I’m naked in your bed.”
“Fact is fact. But seriously, you need to stay. I’ve got wine, frozen pizza, and more sex in store.”
She sent him a wicked look with a hint of a smile. “What kind of frozen pizza?”
“Sausage and pepperoni.” Rolling over, he grabbed her wineglass for her. “And I’ve got Dove bars.”
“Dove bars seal the deal.” She sat up, took the wine. “But I will insist on more sex.”
“Before or after pizza?”
“After. I worked up an appetite. I need to text CiCi. She knew where I was going, and she’ll figure things out, but it is bad out there, so I want her to know I’m safe inside.”
Rising, he walked to the doors. “It really is bad. Tell her to text you back. Let’s make sure she’s okay.”
“CiCi’s weathered more storms than both of us put together. And she’s got a generator. Which is why she’s having her usual nor’easter gathering. A few friends, a lot of food and alcohol. Everyone will bunk there until this blows out. You were invited,” she told him. “But I had other ideas.”
He switched on the fire, adding the flickering light of flame. “You have good ideas.”
“I’m glad you think so. Because another of my ideas? I’m going to have to sculpt you. Guardian. Protector,” she mused. “Not with a gun—I don’t like them. I think a sword. Maybe in mid-swing. Maybe…”
He glanced back. “Like I’m wearing armor?”
She laughed, hitched herself back to prop up on the pillows as she drank. “No, Reed. You’ll be wearing the sword.”
“I don’t really think—”
“You’ve got a good form, an appealing body. Rangy, but not gaunt. You were on the edge of gaunt at CiCi’s party, but you’re back in shape.”
“Still a couple pounds light.” And though he’d never been the modest type, he found himself reaching for his discarded boxers. “I can’t seem to get it back.”
“You look good. I know the human anatomy, the male body. You look fit and strong along with the rangy.” She got up now, walked to him, traced her fingers over the scar on his shoulder, his side. “And these.”
“You’d want to leave them out.”
“No. They’re part of you, part of the protector. You were wounded, but you still pick up the sword. That’s admirable.”
“It’s a job.”
“It’s you. The boy who stopped to grab a terrified child in the middle of a nightmare, who protected him. I admire that. I might be here if I didn’t—it was a long fast for me. But I wouldn’t stay.” She rose on her toes, brushed his lips with hers. “I need to sculpt you. I could do it from memory now, but I’d rather do some sketches of you.”
“You’re trying to sex me into it.”
“Oh.” With a slow, slow smile, she trailed a hand down his chest, his belly. “I will.”
“I’m going to have to make you prove that.”
He started to pull her in, wanted to ravage that smile.
And his phone rang.
“Crap. Crap, crap. Shit! Sorry.” He crouched down for his jeans, dug the phone out of the pocket. “Quartermaine. Okay, slow it down. Where? All right, I’m on my way. Stay calm.
“I’ve gotta go,” he told Simone as he dragged on his jeans. “I’m taking the calls tonight.”
“What is it?”
“Car accident, downed tree, a lot of hysteria.”
“I could go with you.”
“Absolutely no.” He pulled on his shirt. “Stay. Toss the pizza in the oven. Eat. I’ll text you.” He took his gun out of the drawer, clipped it on.