“I’ll go do the same,” he said.
Abby walked down the hallway to her own room. She stripped, but before she went into the shower, she tended to her Glock. This wasn’t a night she wanted to discover that she’d damaged her service weapon. When she was sure it had dried properly and was back in good shooting order, she set it in a drawer of her bedside table, then finally walked into the shower. The heat that suffused her, the sense of being clean again, was almost sinfully delicious.
When she emerged, she slipped into a terry robe and returned to the living room. A figurehead gazed sternly down at her from the far wall; she smiled, looking at the various flags that adorned the walls. Gus had loved his heritage, loved this place.
She loved it, too. No monstrous killer making use of it would change that. She would find him.
She sat down to check the screens. There was no movement anywhere in or near the Dragonslayer.
As Malachi came out of Gus’s room, she stood up. She saw that he was wearing a blue terry robe, his dark hair slicked back and wet. “Everything okay?” he asked her huskily.
“Quiet. Just like it should be.”
She sat at the computer table again and he leaned over her to study the screens. She became very aware of the heat of his body and couldn’t help thinking that he might be naked under the robe. She was naked under hers.... She focused on his face as he watched the screen. She noted again the character that seemed etched in the rugged planes of his cheekbones and jaw. She felt the vitality of his muscles.
“Looks good,” he agreed. “And these same screens are on at your home. Someone will be up all night—they’ll take shifts.”
“We don’t have to take a shift?” she asked him.
He shook his head. “We’re the principal agents,” he told her. “I admit I’m new to this, too, but I did spend some time getting to know the people in both Krewes. Usually there are one—or sometimes two—agents closest to what’s happening. The people most connected to the situation. That’s us, in other words. So...we sleep when we can. The others cover the watches and do the research on people, places or possible suspects.”
She wasn’t really listening. There was something exceptionally compelling about the scent of soap on newly washed male flesh. There was something about...him.
He looked from the screen, into her eyes. She saw a sudden change in their mercurial hazel color.
Time passed, and then he touched her face, his fingers caressing and following the lines of her cheeks and jaw. She stood up, coming straight into his arms, and when his hands fell away, it was only because he needed them to pull her against him.
He kissed her, a pressure on her lips that was, at first, a request. She drew closer to him, responding, parting her lips, welcoming his tongue. Arousal swept through her, and she continued to feel the hunger of his lips, his touch. They seemed to stand there for an eternity, their kiss going on and on. It was as if a kiss were a brand-new thing, as if they’d invented it.
But in time, the kiss wasn’t enough, and she felt his hands under her robe, moving along her skin. His touch was almost...reverential. She threaded her fingers through his hair, moved closer and closer to him. And as they stumbled in their haste to touch and kiss again and again he whispered, “Bedroom.”
She whispered back, “Mine.”
He inhaled sharply, his teeth grating. “Wait. We have to slow down. I’m not—”
She smiled. “I am. I wasn’t planning on anything, but I’m on the Pill.”
He returned her smile.
They made their way down the hall, still touching, still kissing, crashing into a wall here and there. Finally they reached her bedroom and they fell onto the softness of her bed, the robes a tangle around them. Straddling her, Malachi wrangled out of his robe and helped remove hers. He paused for a minute, and she wasn’t sure what went through his mind. She didn’t care; she rose against him, loving the feel of her breasts against the heat of his chest. Again, they kissed, still kissing as they eased back down.