He’d dropped his pronouns again and started joking. At least she thought he was joking. It was a good sign. “Cameron never asked at all. He just told me what I wanted and took me along for the ride.”
Witt traced her cheekbones with rough fingers. Voice soft, eyes dark with something indefinable, he murmured, “Loved him a lot, didn’t you?”
Yes, she’d loved Cameron—he’d never given her a chance not to. Maybe that was why, when he was gone, she found herself in the same emotional desert she’d been in before he rescued her.
“Ask me to touch you.” There was so much more in his whispered words, so many things she was afraid he wanted that she could never ever give. Not again.
But maybe she could give him this one small thing. Keeping her gaze on his, she lifted his hand and put it to her breastbone. Warms fingers and the palm of his hand on her skin. She parted the lapels of her shirt so that they were flesh to flesh. Her heart thundered, and her blood raced in her ears.
His blue eyes blazed like the hottest part of the flame, but he didn’t say anything, nor move his hand from the spot she’d placed it. Dammit. She knew what he was thinking. He’d made this her show all the way.
She took his other hand and raised it, too, then guided him to cover her breasts beneath the shirt. Her nipples were hard and aching, and not because of the damn phone call.
A hard bead slipped between the fingers of his right hand, and he squeezed. His breath came a little faster now, and they were so close she could feel the rise in his trousers against her belly. She pressed against him. The lace of her panties rubbed the front of his pants.
He sighed, a soft exhalation of air, then closed his eyes and tipped his head back. She hadn’t said a word, but sometimes actions spoke louder than words.
When he looked at her again, there was nothing cold or unreadable in his expression. He slipped one arm behind her back, splaying his hand at the base of her spine, then pulled her hard against him. She threw her arms around his shoulders to keep her balance and held on as he rocked their bodies together.
“You’re gonna be the death of me, Max, I know it.” Voice rough, deep, she’d never heard quite that tone from him.
Then he eased away from her and slid down her body until his knees hit the floor.
“What are you doing?”
“What you’ve always wanted, going down on my knees for you.” Though his head was tipped up, her body blocked the light from his eyes. She hated not being able to see them.
“I never said I wanted that.”
“But you’re so damn good at cutting me down to size.”
Well. She was. “Get up.”
“I am up. Decided I like it down here.” He dipped his tongue in her belly button while his hands cupped her breasts.
She’d been on low simmer, but he’d turned the heat on high. His chin rested above her panty line. Then his fingers left her breasts and trailed down her sides to the elastic riding her hips. He slipped the lacy material down her thighs.
“Lift your foot,” his voice soft and low enough to send a tingle straight to her center. Her panties slid away to be tossed somewhere in the dark.
He palmed her. Oh my God. Her moisture dampened his flesh. She was naked except for her shirt while he still wore his jacket and tie. When he slipped a finger inside to touch her clitoris, she sucked in a breath at the contact and shut out everything else.
“Want me to stop?”
“You know damn well I don’t want you to stop.”
Sliding against her in all that wetness, he might have chuckled, but she was no longer sure exactly what she did or didn’t hear. Didn’t care either. She parted her lips and parted her legs. His big hand clamped down on her butt to hold her steady, but she still grabbed his shoulders. Kneaded them in rhythm to his stroke.
A soft breath chuffed between her lips, and she let her head fall back with the sheer pleasure of his touch. This was better than all the dreams and all the fantasies she’d had about him. Why had she waited so long?
Then he replaced his finger with his tongue, and she had to lie down before she fell down. The braid rug was scratchy and the floor hard, but Witt’s tongue was heaven on earth.
He sucked with just the right suction, licked with exactly the right pressure, and changed the tempo at precisely the right moment. Her body moved against his mouth, though he had her thighs pinned beneath his shoulders.
“Oh God, oh God, please don’t stop, please, c—“
He lifted his head. “Do not call me Cameron.” His teeth sounded a bit like he was crunching on rocks.
“I wasn’t going to,” she assured him.
“Yes, you were.”
For the life of her she couldn’t remember what the hell she’d been about to say.
“Where’s your husband right now?”
“I don’t know.”
“He’s not here?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Could we do the third degree later, Detective? I was just about to have an orgasm.”
“I know. But you’re not getting off until I do.” He crawled up her body until he flattened her against the carpet.
“What, you believe in simultaneous orgasms?”
“With you, yeah.”