Shades of Passion

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

ONCE SIMON DECIDED TO grant Nina the distraction she wanted, he approached the task with the same confidence and single-mindedness he applied to everything else he did in life. She couldn’t help but imagine him putting all that focus to mind-boggling good use on her body.

It took them less than twenty minutes to find a nice hotel and register for a room. As Simon locked the door and drew the curtains closed, blanketing the room in shadows, Nina quivered. Inside and out.

Distraction. Comfort. Passion. She didn’t care what word most accurately defined what was about to happen. She just knew she needed Simon.

Simon moved closer until they stood face-to-face next to the bed, their breathing loud in the quiet room. Mindful that she’d asked for this, that she needed to remind him he wasn’t taking advantage of her, she placed a hand on his chest and slowly ran her fingers down, brushing a fingernail over his now hardened nipple.

Thankfully, her touch appeared to prod him into action. He stepped closer until she had to tip her head back to keep their gazes locked. Raising his hands, he cupped her face, his thumbs gently smoothing against the edges of her jaw, stretching out the sexual tension until it was almost unbearable and she couldn’t stifle the whimper that escaped her. His eyes darkened and a flush rode high on his cheekbones just before he lowered his head and kissed her. Softly. Just the barest pressure, which had her frowning and moving closer. Pressing harder. He smiled, but that smile quickly disappeared when she flicked her tongue out, savoring his taste.

She needed him.

He sucked in a breath and pulled her even closer, his mouth slanting against hers. His tongue curled around hers, urging her to play again, and she eagerly complied. She hummed with pleasure, the sound turning into a disappointed gasp when he pulled away far too soon.

“Shh,” he whispered and began kissing her neck, making his way downward even as he undid the buttons of her blouse. He stopped with his face resting lightly against her cleavage, and she looked down and tangled her hands in his hair. His eyes shut, he butted his cheek against her as if he was a cat—savoring the softness of her skin against his.

Nina gasped, and then arched her head back, exposing her throat to him. Sexual arousal charged through her like an electrical current. “Make love to me. Please.”

A low moan ripped from somewhere deep inside him. Kissed her throat. Bit it. Sucked.

“You smell good,” he murmured. “You feel heavenly. Your skin tastes so sweet. Do you taste just as sweet everywhere else?”

A warm rush of sensation sizzled straight to her core. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?” she dared him.

His grin was pure masculine wickedness. With a quick efficient twist of his fingers, he undid her bra and pushed the cups away.

She hissed when he covered one nipple with his big palm and the other with his mouth. He sucked softly at first, then more deeply. She felt the tug between her thighs and whimpered. She ached. Felt empty. Longed to be filled but only by him. “Please. More,” she said.

“How much more?” he said as he lifted his head.

“Everything you have. Everything you’re willing to give me.”

“Everything?”

She nodded. Then qualified, “For now. We can have this for now.”

It was the same thing she’d said before their first kiss and she could tell he didn’t like it. But she was trying to hold on to some semblance of reality. She wanted him, but she couldn’t lose herself completely. She couldn’t forget who she was and what she believed and how both those things would always conflict with who he was and what he believed.

She waited for him to protest. Or to agree. He did neither. Instead, he finished undressing her, undressed himself, swept her up in his arms and lowered her to the bed.

* * *

AS SIMON LAID NINA OUT on the bed, he told himself to be calm. Not to panic.

She was still talking about now. Still insisting that what they were about to do, with each other and to each other, wouldn’t last. Everything inside him screamed in protest and he wanted her to know it, but he had no right. And nothing he could say to try to change her mind would make sense anyway.

He just knew she was important to him. That as much as he’d run from caring about her, he couldn’t run anymore. Not from this.

She was in his arms. For now. And he would take it.

He would take her.

Even if he couldn’t keep her.

With that thought in mind, he framed her face in his big hands and kissed her with everything he was feeling—tenderness, affection, lust and yes...a hint of desperation. He wanted to kiss her for hours, but, mindful that their time was limited, he also didn’t want to miss out on touching the rest of her body.

Her breasts especially, he thought, remembering how sweet and right her nipple had felt in his mouth. Groaning, he pulled back and, pressing both of her breasts together, buried his face in her cleavage. Turning his head one way and then the other, he took turns sucking her nipples and simultaneously gave his hands the freedom to roam over her. From her silky-soft hair to her smooth rounded shoulders. Down her arms to her elegant fingers. Over her plush hips and then...God, yes...he clasped her thighs and pulled them up on either side of his hips, opening her so that her core pressed solidly against his upper abdomen, searing him with her heat. Between his own thighs, his erection throbbed with urgency and although he pressed it into the bedding, he found little relief.

He wanted her. To be inside her body. Encased by her wet, clinging heat.

Lowering his hand, he cupped her between her thighs and carefully inserted one finger into her. She was as wet and tight as he’d imagined.

She gasped and arched, her head thrashing back and forth wildly, prompting him to add another finger to the mix. This time she didn’t make a sound, but she grabbed his shoulders, her nails delivering a stinging pain that more than communicated her pleasure and ratcheted up his.

God, she was amazing. So responsive. So giving of herself.

In bed, their differences were only good ones. Two parts that looked and felt nothing alike, but fit together to create something complete and unique and good. In bed, the rest of the world disappeared, and there was no guilt, no fears for the future, just this heart-pounding pleasure that coursed through every part of his body. Invigorating and strengthening him.

After kissing each breast one last time, he slid farther down her body, stopping at her rounded belly and teasing her naval with several licks and bites, each making her squeal with delight. But when he kissed that place between her thighs, she seemed to go mute. With a silent exhalation, she surrendered to his touch, her body melting like butter into the bedding and her thighs falling to the sides.

He could feel her wetness against his face, smell the sweet musk of her womanhood, and he relished the knowledge that she wanted him. A quick glance up her body confirmed that her eyes were closed tight and that her fingers now gripped the bedsheets with every lick and thrust of his tongue. She pumped her hips against him, too, silently demanding he give her more. More of his fingers. More of his tongue. More of the blessed forgetfulness that drowned out everything but the heat and spark and push and pull of lovemaking.

He was so damn hard, hurting so bad that he couldn’t stand it anymore. Pushing himself up, he crawled up her body and begged, “Touch me. Please.”

Her eyes popped open and she stared at him, dazed, almost blind, before she smiled and licked her lips. When cool, slim fingers wrapped around him and began a tight-fisted stroking, his head fell back and he groaned as if overcome with pain. And in truth it was a kind of pain, one that ratcheted up his need so fast he felt dizzy. One that would only be soothed once he became part of her.

At the same time, her touch felt better than anything he’d ever experienced. His toes curled and his heart pumped hard. Blindly, he sought out her lips again and pumped his tongue into the slick cavern of her mouth just like he’d pumped it into the slick cavern between her thighs. He wondered if she could taste herself and if she liked it. He wondered if she’d want to taste him.

“Oh, God,” he moaned as she pulled his cock between her legs and began grinding the head against her in slow, dragging circles. It felt like he was being dipped in warm honey, and that only added to the fantasy of her licking and lapping at him, then sucking him dry.

“Enough,” he gasped out.

“No. Not enough,” she said softly. “Not by a long shot.”

He shook his head as he tried to make her understand. “I need to be inside you. I need a condom,” he gasped.

Her hand froze, and for a second he pressed against her, poised at her very opening, wanting so badly to thrust inside. With sheer will, he moved to the side, trying not to cry out when her hand slid away from him. Quickly, he retrieved a condom from his wallet, slid it on then covered her body again with his.

He cupped her face and stared into her eyes. “Now?” he said, his words less a question than a plea.

She nodded. “Now.”

“You do it,” he said.

When she looked confused, he clarified, “Put me inside you. Guide me. Show me where you want me, Nina.”

Her eyes dilated and she reached down, gripped him and again guided him between her thighs. Once there, she teased him once more, this time using slow up and down strokes to drive him crazy rather than the circular motions she’d used before. He couldn’t help it; every time she stroked him against her, he pushed his hips forward just a bit, until finally, finally, the tip of him slipped inside her.

They both jerked and gasped.

Dropping his forehead against hers, he murmured, “You’re so hot. So wet and so damn tight.”

“The more you put inside me, the tighter I’ll be. And the wetter and hotter I’ll get. So please...” Along with her pleading tone, she cupped his ass and pulled him closer, her thighs sawing restlessly on either side of his hips.

Slowly, steadily, he pushed into her, every fiber of his being focused on the drag of her inner tissues against his cock. When he was all the way inside, he swore he forgot to breathe. She felt fantastic. But more than that, she felt like home.

Her hips pushed up against his, urging him into a rhythm he was more than happy to start. Over and over again, he pushed himself into her. Over and over again, he pulled himself out of her. And she was right—with every movement, she got hotter. He got harder. Their moans got louder. Their embrace got tighter. And before he knew it, his thrusts got faster. Faster and harder and deeper, until he was practically pounding her into the bed, her gasps and moans and clinging arms urging him on. It was almost too fast. And not fast enough.

Too fast because he didn’t want this to end so quickly.

Not fast enough because he wanted to make her come, damn it, and he wanted to come, too.

It had been so long since he’d felt this kind of pleasure, this kind of intimacy with a woman, and his body was reminding him of that fact, greedily reaching for every drop of sensation it could. And that included relishing every fine tremor that racked her body, and how her breaths grew more and more ragged as she approached climax.

“That’s it,” he urged. “It’s gonna feel so good when you come, Nina. Come for me, baby. Let me feel you shuddering around my—”

“Simon!” she screamed as she obeyed his command and came. Her wide eyes stayed on his even as the pleasure made them go blank. Her body jerked and convulsed with the power of her orgasm, mimicking the wild spasms of her internal muscles, which were determined to pull the same response from him.

It didn’t take long before they succeeded. He felt his release gather then push out of him with the force of a rocket ship, one pulse followed by another and then another and another until he finally closed his eyes in disbelief.

How much did he have to give her? How long could his pleasure go on?

And what the hell was he going to do when he was empty and their time together came to an end?

The end seemed to take a while. In her arms, clasped within her body, time ceased to exist. Eventually, however, reality began to sink in as their bodies calmed.

He had no idea what time it was. He did, however, realize that he was lying on top of Nina, making it difficult for her to breathe. Shifting to the side, he buried his face in her neck and held on as he tried to calm his racing heart and billowing breaths. Finally, when he felt capable of actually talking again, he pushed up on an elbow, pushed her hair out of her face and kissed her lightly on the lips.

Her eyes were closed, and she smiled as he kissed her, so he kept on doing it, taking the time to explore her mouth the way he hadn’t been able to when the urge to get inside her had been riding him.

When he finally pulled away, it was to cradle her close once more.

But then he must have dozed off...

The next thing he knew, the space beside him had grown cold. Blinking, he sat up, fully naked since they’d kicked the bedsheets to the floor. Nina was sitting on the side of the bed and pulling her shirt on. He reached out a hand to caress her shoulder, intending to pull her back down next to him, but before he could, she turned slightly and spoke, keeping her gaze averted.

“We should get going,” she said softly. “You need to work.”

She was right. He did. As much as he’d love to spend the night with her—hell, the next several nights with her, all of them in bed—he couldn’t put off work much longer. “Nina—”

She stood and turned to face him. She was fully dressed now. Her eyes took him in before she blushed and looked away again. Damn it, he refused to feel embarrassed by his nudity or by what they’d done. But even so, he knew her averted gaze, just like the clothes she’d donned, was meant to push him away and he felt her distance like a cold breeze.

And that was good, he thought, as he stood and began putting on his own clothes. It was exactly what he needed to remind himself that, as close as he’d felt to her, it had just been about sex. About satisfying a physical need for him. And about providing a distraction for her. Hell, if it hadn’t been her, it would have been some other woman, probably one he’d picked up at McGill’s. In this case, it had been her, but only because she’d needed to forget.

He’d been her drug of choice, and that was fine.

The sex had been good, but now all that mattered was keeping Nina safe, catching Davenport and solving the homeless murders. Then, life would go on. Their lives would go on. Separately, of course. They didn’t have a future together, not even a professional one anymore.

But even so, even though he fully believed those things, the air chilled even more when she spoke. “You went above and beyond the call of duty here, Simon. Thank you for distracting me. I appreciate it.”

* * *

A HALF HOUR LATER, NINA was still reeling from the aftereffects of her time with Simon but she refused to let him see that. She’d asked him for a distraction—sex—despite knowing that’s all it could ever be. He’d given her what she’d asked for.

Their time on the beach had been a respite, a chance for them to escape their worlds for a short while. Afterward, sex with him had blown her world away. Now reality was staring them in the face in the form of the winding Highway 1.

Now she had to stick with her side of the bargain.

Deal with the reality of the situation. And that meant dealing with the fact their passion had been a one-time thing.

Their time together wasn’t completely over, however. Not yet. It wouldn’t be until Simon caught Davenport and confirmed he’d indeed killed those two homeless men.

Even so, although Simon was driving her back to her house, it was only so she could pick up her clothing and necessities. And it wasn’t because he was planning to spend the night with her, either.

As they’d prepared to go, he’d said, “I can’t stay with you, Nina. And I’ll worry about you if you’re at home alone. Will you please stay in a hotel close to SIG? At least until we get a handle on Davenport?”

She wasn’t about to argue with him. Not given what he’d told her about the murder victims, and his best guess as to why Davenport had attacked them.

But what they knew still felt like only a few pieces in a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle. They needed more information. Answers. Understanding. The only way they were going to get them was if Simon found Davenport.

When Simon’s phone rang, he checked the caller ID screen then picked up. “Anything new, DeMarco?”

The detective’s voice came over the speakerphone. “Nothing good. Davenport’s still missing. The last time he was seen was by a neighbor at his house in Charleston over a week ago.”

“What?” Nina gasped.

“Nina and I both confirmed the neighbor had seen him at the beginning of this week. A friend of Nina’s, a cop in Charleston P.D.—”

“I talked to him. Officer Wade King,” DeMarco said. “He went back and talked to the neighbor again. She admitted she’d lied. Davenport paid her a hundred bucks to tell anyone who asked that he was still around.”

Simon swore under his breath, then thanked DeMarco and hung up. “This guy has gone off his rocker but he’s obviously in touch with reality enough to cover his tracks. I have reason to believe someone bribed a witness to lie to the cops about the first murder victim, Louis Cann. It’s consistent with Davenport bribing his neighbor. And both bribes are evidence of his consciousness of guilt.”

Anger tickled the back of her throat. Nina shifted in her seat, squaring her shoulders. “That your clinical opinion? Your official diagnosis? He’s ‘gone off his rocker’?”

He glanced at her with a heavy frown. “Christ, Nina, you know what I mean.”

Unfortunately, even with Simon’s stigmatizing language, she did. If Lester Davenport had indeed killed her cat and those homeless men, he’d gone far beyond grief. He could very well be a psychopath.

The thing was, the notion didn’t jive with what she knew about the man. Lester Davenport had always seemed to be miserable. Depressed. He’d never had the hallmarks of a psychopath—grandiosity and clever manipulation. Could he instead be experiencing a late onset of schizophrenia? But schizophrenics were rarely violent and usually didn’t have the organizational ability to go off the grid so thoroughly, navigate around security systems so accurately they could escape detection or even bribe witnesses to cover their tracks. Something was off, but what?

“After we get your clothes from your house and I drop you off at your hotel,” Simon said, “I’ll head back to SIG. You won’t be shadowing me, of course, but I’d still prefer you not go into work tomorrow. If need be, I can call your boss and explain, but—”

“That’s not necessary. I can call my boss myself. She’s not expecting me at work until Monday anyway.” She crossed her arms over her chest, and stared out the passenger window for the next fifteen minutes until they reached her neighborhood. She tried to imagine what she’d do stuck in a hotel room, her only choices to think about Davenport and the men he’d murdered, or the feel of Simon’s body inside hers as he’d temporarily made her forget that pain.

Simon steered the car into her driveway, parked, turned the engine off and yanked the key out of the ignition. He rolled his head on the back of the seat before looking at her.

This time she looked back, and held his gaze. “What happens after Davenport is caught? Will I shadow you again?”

She read his answer on his face. Not that Commander Stevens wouldn’t authorize such a thing, but that Simon wouldn’t want it.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Probably not a good idea.” It was for the best. He’d given her what she wanted by giving her sex. She’d known it would be a one-time thing, but already she was feeling addicted to him. Not wanting him to leave her. And more specifically, not wanting him to leave her body, aching for the pleasure and fulfillment only he could give her. Yes, indeed, staying at a hotel by herself was going to be a miserable experience. Tiredly, she climbed out of the car.

He cursed, got out and stepped up to her, capturing her arms in a gentle grip when she would have walked past him. “I just don’t think us working together is a good idea. You said it yourself. I care about you and I think you care about me. But nothing’s going to change between us. We’ll never be able to reconcile our beliefs. As much as I loved making love with you, I need to focus on my bid for management and—” Abruptly, he stopped speaking and stared through the front windows next to her front door.

“Simon—what is it?” She leaned around him but couldn’t see past his broad shoulders.

“Go to a neighbor’s house,” he ordered. “Now. Call 911.”

“What? Why?”

“I heard something from inside. Someone moving around. Give me your house keys.”

She fumbled in her purse, then handed him her set of keys.

He thrust his cell phone in her hand. “Call 911. Go to a neighbors and wait for me. Now.”