His cock hardened and he mentally cursed himself for it. Not tonight. Tonight was about comfort. Tonight, he’d be the friend she needed.
As he set her on the edge of her bed, she grabbed a fistful of his shirt and dragged his mouth to hers. A branding kiss. Claiming. Her hands slid down his chest to the waistband of his pants, and she tugged him forward. He followed her onto the mattress, but switched their positions so that she was on top, letting her take the lead this time, set the pace. She shoved at his shirt; he lifted his head so she could get it off, and her mouth found his nipple. The hot, insistent tug made his cock jump, pinching him against the front of his jeans. It was the best kind of pain, and he groaned as her mouth trailed down. She undid his fly with her lips and teeth, kissed her way down his straining erection through the cotton of his boxer-briefs.
He knotted his hands in the sheet under him, curtailing the urge to touch her, to get her under him and taste her sweet * before he took her.
This was her show. Whatever she wanted.
She released his cock and her mouth engulfed him, her tongue tracing the underside until his hips bucked off the bed of their own accord. She made a pleased humming noise in her throat that traveled up his shaft and nailed him in the gut.
Christ, he wanted inside her.
Eva swirled her tongue over his head one last time before her mouth left him and she dragged his pants off. She made short work of her own clothing, and her skin was cool against his as she slid up his overheated body, her mouth blazing a hot trail along his flesh.
By the time she straddled him and accepted him deep into her body, he trembled with need. She moved slow, raising herself over him, her fingers trailing down her stomach to find them where they were joined. She rubbed her own clit and so many dirty thoughts tumbled through his mind, but he bit them back. There was a time for that kind of talk, and now wasn’t it.
But, fuck, she was driving him insane.
He allowed his hands to uncurl from the sheet and move to her thighs, then to her ass. But he didn’t urge her to quicken the pace, didn’t hold her still and pump into her like he wanted. He watched her take pleasure in his body and her own, and the sight was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen in his life. Her head fell back, spilling her dark hair down her back. A moan vibrated from her throat as her thighs tightened around his hips and she moved faster, her breasts bouncing, her moans sharpening into little cries until a hard spasm quaked through her and he lost all sense of sight as his own orgasm rocketed from him.
Gasping, she collapsed on his chest. He released his grip on her ass and slid his hands up her back, down again, up, down.
She let loose with a shuddering sound that was as close to a sob as he’d ever heard from her. He wrapped her up in his arms, rolling so that they lay side by side, their bodies still locked together in the most intimate of ways.
Her heavy-lidded eyes opened and searched his face. “How can you do that?” she whispered. “Give up control so easily like that?”
“Sweetheart, it isn’t about control. Never was.”
“You like being in control.”
“I do,” he admitted and swept a strand of hair out of her face. “But I like giving you what you need more. And, this time, you needed to be in charge.”
“Thank you, Cam. For everything.” She snuggled closer, her lips brushing his neck in a sweet little kiss. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
And she was gone, carried away from him by exhaustion and the release of orgasm. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he pulled the blanket up over them both and held her through the rest of the night.
Chapter Nineteen
“Chica, you read this yet?” Miguel wheeled his chair across the aisle and slapped a stapled stack of papers on her desk.
“What is it?” Eva picked them up and scanned the first page—the autopsy report on Soup. “Good. I’ve been wondering when we’d get this.”
“You won’t be sayin’ ‘good’ once you read it.”
She lowered the papers. “Uh-oh. Don’t tell me the case just got complicated.”
“Case got complicated,” he said with a grave nod.
“Damn. All right, give me the Cliff’s Notes version.”
“Soup had enough heroin in his system to kill five healthy men. Medical examiner says his heart would have stopped before he was able to finish injecting himself with this high of a dose. There was also some postmortem bruising on his arms, suggesting he was held down. Lots of bruising at the injection site, too.”
“So,” Eva said and the glow left over from the last three nights she’d spent with Cam faded. “Someone did it for him.”
“And not at our crime scene. Lividity proves Soup was moved several hours after time of death, which the M.E. puts sometime late in the evening two Fridays ago.”
Meaning Cam was probably the last person to see Soup alive. Which would not look good in a report.
Shit.