The damn infuriating man made her ask for everything. Information, a killer’s head on a platter, a kiss, a caress. Max pushed back, squirmed against him, teasing them both and hoping he’d take her up on it without her having to ask first.
Then she remembered Jada’s dinner invitation. She remembered the rolling pin. Something you’d find in a woman’s kitchen, not a man’s. “Do they know what the murder weapon was?”
Witt’s hand slid up her rib cage to just below her breasts, his palm almost cupping her. “You really know how to talk dirty,” he whispered in her ear. She was sure he knew the effect. “Blunt instrument. What d’ya think ya know?”
“Did they find a rolling pin in Bethany’s kitchen? A marble one?”
He let out a breath. It streamed down over her throat and beneath the neck of her shirt. “Marble rolling pin. Hmm.” His chest vibrated with the sound. Max noticed that he didn’t ask how she knew. “Might find a crack or two in the marble. Blood residue. Marble’s porous, might even find a few stains. Wasn’t one in her place, as far as I know.”
“I bet there’s one in Virginia’s kitchen.” Virginia was a baker, always making Bethany’s favorite foods for solace.
His thumb moved rhythmically over the lower swell of her breast. “How’d we get from Traynor’s study to Virginia Spring’s kitchen?”
“I’m having dinner with the Springs tomorrow night.”
His hand stilled. “How’d you manage that?”
“I think Jada likes me.”
He moaned. This time it was a long-suffering sound. “What have you been doing today?”
She told him about Freddy, about the Internet, and about her idea to check Bethany’s computer in case she saved her e-mail messages. “Then I went to Jada’s group therapy session.”
Another moan. “How did you manage that?” He squeezed her beneath the band of his arm just as she opened her mouth. “No, don’t answer that. Did you and my mother cook this up, too?”
“Now, Witt, your mother—”
“Is incorrigible. Whose idea was it to go to Virginia’s yesterday?”
She should have known he’d get around to that eventually. “Mine.”
He nuzzled her neck, chuckled into her hair, then let out a sigh. “At least you two have integrity. She told me it was her idea. Birds of a feather.”
Quite frankly, Max couldn’t remember whose idea it had been. She pulled the covers up, trapping his hand, then snuggled deeper into him.
His arm tightened at her waist, held her against his chest for several dizzying moments. His voice when he spoke again was heavy and low. “Keep yourself safe. Don’t make me regret telling you to go into that house.”
She didn’t promise him something she couldn’t. “I’ll be as careful as I can.”
He was silent almost longer than she could bear, then he dropped his mouth to the curve of her neck and licked her. “Love your taste,” he whispered as his fingers tugged at her nightshirt. “Love the way you smell, too. I need something soft so bad I think I’m gonna die. Something soft and warm and good. Like you.”
She’d never been good, but she wanted his warmth as badly as he needed hers. Sweet male warmth to finally banish the sound of Bud Traynor’s voice from her memory. “What are you doing?”
“Shh.” He took her lobe in his teeth, then caressed it with his tongue. “Pretend you’re asleep. It’s just a dream. Let me touch you, baby.”
Baby. Oh God, she melted. She pushed back with her whole body, then arched and moaned as his fingers stroked her belly, heading south, lower, lower. Until he slipped beneath the elastic of her panties. He stroked through her curls to slide a finger across her clitoris. She reached behind and pulled his face into the crook of her neck.
“You feel so damn good, baby,” he whispered against her flesh. “Open your legs.”
She’d have done anything he asked. She raised a leg and hooked it over his calf, exposing herself fully to his touch.
“I want you to come. Christ, I need you to come.” His plea ended on a groan.
He was hot and hard against her backside. She moved with him, caressed him with her body as his fingers pushed her higher and higher. Coming wasn’t such a hard thing to do for him. Not so hard at all. She bit her lip, let another moan slip out, then gave him that special little ooh sound he liked so much. His fingers moved faster, dipping inside her, then back to that sweet hot bud.
He kissed her hair, her ear, her neck, and whispered things she couldn’t understand. Sensation shot up and out, then spiraled back down to the place his fingers worked her. She squeezes her thighs together around his hand, rode the feeling, and exploded with a shower of lights behind her eyelids.
Before she floated back to the bed, she gave him all the ooh sounds he could possibly want.
“Damn, that was so fucking good,” he murmured against her hair, his fingers still stroking the soft curls at her apex.