And Malachi obviously wasn’t giving a second’s thought to Jackson’s advice.
They began to shed their clothing, their lips meeting as shoes and fabric went flying. They touched, then broke away, helped each other and moved slowly down the hall, still kissing. Soon they were back in the bedroom, tangled in the sheets, and she wasn’t thinking about anything but this man—the taste of his flesh, the feel of his lips and hands upon her. His kisses warmed her where they fell; her body sparked to life with the brush of his fingers. The pressure of his body was vital and arousing, and she returned his passion with an urgent hunger of her own. The thundering of her heart seemed shockingly loud.
They moved, then kissed again. They looked at each other, and they whispered words that meant everything, although they were intelligible. They broke apart to deliver hot wet kisses, then arched together, teasing and arousing, until he thrust into her and their pace became frantic. Moments later, it slowed, building to a sweet crescendo, exploding fiercely, and taking them into an even sweeter spiral of release. Their bodies gradually relaxed, and the glow of completion merged with the indefinable sensation of being with someone who meant so very much....
This pleasure, being in such a state, feeling like this with another person, was nothing she’d ever encountered before. Abby smiled; she pushed away the thought that they hadn’t even known each other until this had begun, that their homes were in different places and that she had no idea what the future would hold. But life seldom had such perfect moments and she was going to cling to these.
She wasn’t sure what she expected him to say. Maybe something about its being damned good sex, if not something more intimate and personal, like, My God, that was the most extraordinary experience I’ve ever had.
Maybe that was her line. The words whispered silently in her head.
Malachi raised himself up on one elbow and looked down at her, a smile playing on his lips as he quizzically said, “Certifiably crazy?”
Shift gears! she told herself.
“I know you’re not certifiably crazy. I just don’t know what they’re going to think,” she said. “You never cease to amaze me. I’ve been warned my whole life not to mention the fact that I see a ghost, and it sounds like you’ve never said anything, either—and then you announce to a bunch of murder suspects that the ghost of Blue Anderson is wandering around.”
“You don’t think it was a good idea?” he asked.
“They all looked at you as if you’d lost your mind,” Abby said.
“Hmm.”
“Hmm?”
“If they’re innocent, of course, they’ll figure I’m crazy. But if the guilty party was among them, then that guilty party will start thinking. Because I planted it in his mind, he’ll start to worry that ghost of Blue just might be around,” Malachi told her. “He’ll start looking over his shoulder.”
“So there’s a method to your madness?”
“There’s always a method to my madness.” Dark hair fell in a swath across his forehead. She thought he was more endearing, lying there, than any male could be. “Sadly, however, there’s little method to my social skills,” he said. He bent over and kissed her lips with a lingering wistfulness. “You’re...incredible. That’s lame. But you are.”
She smiled. “Incredible isn’t so lame.”
He lay back down, pulling her against his chest. She felt cherished, and yet...
She felt respected, as well. He would want to shield her from danger, she knew. But she sensed that he would also have faith in her.
But as happy as she was with her personal situation, she couldn’t stop thinking about what was going on. She wanted to jump out of bed and find the young woman who’d probably been taken. She felt she should rush to the river again, run up and down the street, do anything rather than nothing. And yet she knew that such feelings were worthless; she’d learned about patience, being precise, following clues—controlling the impulse to become so emotionally involved that you couldn’t act. Or acted recklessly.
Trust was important. She had to trust that David Caswell was a good cop and that Jackson Crow knew what he was doing.
And still her mind raced.
“Tap...tap, tap, tap,” she murmured.
“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Malachi said.
“Really?” She rose up to meet his eyes. He stroked her hair thoughtfully.
“It means something,” he said. “I keep thinking that, soon enough, I’ll figure out what.”
“And you still include Dirk and Roger in your suspect list?” Abby asked.
“I do. If they make any movements tonight, we’ll know.”