Something about the way her hand fit in his sent an alarm whispering through Connor. This could be a mistake.
But that warning wasn’t nearly as loud as his wanting. Not nearly as loud as his heart thundering in his chest.
Getting to her bedroom door, he opened it. Brie’s cat, sitting curled up in the center of the bed, hissed. He backed up and let Brie take the lead. When he followed her, the feline bounced up with his back arched, as if prepared to pounce. Connor, having already been used as the feline’s scratching post, stepped away from the doorway and cupped his hand over his crotch.
Brie chuckled. The sound rang out like notes of really good music. Connor glanced at her. Wrapped in a towel with humor brightening her eyes, she took his breath away.
“They like to attack anything dangling,” he said.
She laughed harder, and that sweet sound was like a favorite song he didn’t know he had.
He was so caught up in her, he barely noticed when the cat darted out the door.
Damn, she was beautiful. No, more than beautiful. She was precious. A sudden ache filled his chest.
He glanced at the door. “Alright if I close it?”
“Fine.” She pulled the comforter down, tugged the sheet up, and crawled under it. He mourned the sight of her body. Then she reached under the sheet, slipped the towel out, held it up, and dropped it on the floor. While the action hinted at shyness, the slowness with which she pulled the towel out, and the way she held it out there for three seconds before dropping it, was pure seduction.
Consider him seduced.
He set the foil-wrapped condom on the bedside table and slid in beside her.
“You cold?” He rested his hand on her bare hip and moved closer until they were skin to skin.
“A little.” The soft, slightly bashful voice brushed across his chest. Was she having second thoughts? “You still okay with this?”
“Yes.”
Relief filled him. “Let me see if I can’t warm you up.” He eased closer and his hard-on pushed against her. The need for release made him even harder. Yet with that yearning came a stronger desire to touch. To taste. To take his sweet time.
He pressed his lips to hers with soft open kisses, while he caressed her breasts. He eased downward and took a tight nipple into his mouth. Wanting to know what she liked, he listened and learned. Focused on her every movement. Every breath. Every little sound spilling from her lips.
While bathing her breasts with his lips and tongue, he slid his hand down between her legs. He eased a finger between her tender folds of skin. Moaning, her hips lifted off the mattress. The slight movement and the moisture between her thighs told him she was ready. He could bury himself in that moist heat.
Instead, he pressed his thumb over the tiny nub while his middle finger dipped in and out of the tight opening. Her sighs grew louder. Then he kissed his way down her abdomen, leaving a trail of moisture.
Under the sheet, he eased her legs apart. Her scent brought more blood pumping to his sex, and his heart boomed in his chest. He kissed her inner thighs. Then he ran his tongue over the cleft of her sex before dipping inside the soft pink skin. Her taste filled his mouth and his hard-on tightened to the point of pain. Her hips came up, then down, then up, meeting his mouth in the age-old movement that drove men wild.
She pressed herself against his mouth, while he suckled, licked, and tasted. He’d barely started when she cried out. Slipping two fingers inside her, he felt her muscles clench in orgasm. Smiling, he moved up, trailing more kisses as he did. When he came out from under the covers, her eyes were closed, her breathing fast.
He pressed his cheek to hers. “You liked that?”
She moaned, then opened her eyes. Her pupils were large, her irises brighter, bluer.
“Yeah.” Scooting up, she pushed him back on the mattress, then straddled him.
She eased down his legs, stopping when she got to his knees. Her gaze focused on his throbbing sex saluting the ceiling. Her head lowered and she gazed up. That look, the way her tongue slid across her lips, almost brought him to orgasm.
“No.” He caught her and pulled her up.
“But…” She frowned.
He pressed a finger to her mouth. “I’ll take a rain check. If your lips touch me, it’ll be over, and I want to be inside you.”
She swallowed. “Condom. Now.” She reached for it on the bedside table.
He laughed. “Why the rush?”
“I’m ready.”
“You sure?” he asked, teasing her, loving her eagerness.
She ripped the package open with her teeth.
As she pushed it down, her fist tightened around him. His sex pumped against her soft palm, pulsing with pleasure.
He yanked her hand away, flipped her on her back, and found his place on top of her. Balancing his weight on his forearms, he slid inside her. Slowly. An inch at a time.
Her tight walls surrounded him and had him thinking about baseball, about fishing, about anything to stop him from coming too soon. She wrapped her legs around him. He pushed deeper, the pleasure almost unbearable. Her hips rose up to meet him, her calves tightened around his waist, and the real dance began. In. Out. In. Out. Deep. Then deeper.
Her breathing shortened and a sweet sound left her lips. Only when he felt her orgasm sucking him deeper, milking him, did he let himself go. The intense pleasure brought a growl to his lips. And when he expected it to stop, it didn’t. Wave after wave of pleasure spiraled up into his chest, only stopping right before he was certain his heart might explode.
He caught himself before collapsing on top of her. Scooping her in his arms, he rolled to his side, pulling her with him. He kept their bodies joined, wanting every ounce of pleasure this moment offered.
She eased closer, her soft body melting against him. And he melted with her. He stayed completely still, feeling the air move between his lips, feeling her breathe. She shifted ever so slightly, and pressed her lips to his chest. That soft butterfly kiss passed through skin, through bone, and went straight to his heart.
He pulled her closer. She didn’t speak. He couldn’t speak. All he could do was feel. And he felt it all. Every nuance of warmth, of tenderness, every inch of her fitting against him. It was several minutes before the pleasure subsided. And when it left, she pressed her lips to his chest again and just like that…nothing felt right. Everything felt wrong.
Fuck. Shit. Dammit.
This wasn’t supposed to feel this good. He couldn’t breathe, and it wasn’t the orgasm now.
This wasn’t the love-’em-and-leave-’em kind of sex he’d been having since his wife walked away. This was the hold-me, stay-with-me, emotional-attachment kind of sex that he avoided at all cost. He recalled telling her things, things he never talked about. Why?
The answer shot back. Because I wanted her to tell me her secrets. Because I’m an idiot.
Fuck. Shit. Dammit.
“You okay?” he managed to ask, but he knew it lacked tenderness.
“Yeah,” she whispered. He felt her lift her face to look up at him, but he refused to meet her gaze.
“That was amazing.” Her words of praise only made it worse. His insides started to shake. The wall he’d built around himself the last three and a half years started to crack.
“I should go. Let you sleep.” He pulled away.
“Why don’t you stay. It’s—”
“No.” He bounced off the bed, rushed to the bathroom, tossed the condom in the trash can, then dressed in mere seconds.
Feeling like shit, he started out. When he got to the door and saw the lock, he remembered the panty pervert. “Shit!”
He walked back into the bedroom. She sat up, sheet clutched to her chest, looking precious. Looking perfect. Then he saw the emotion in her eyes.
He’d hurt her. And she’d already been hurting. Hurting because of her partner. Because of her informant. Because of her sister and her piss-poor parents.
He was a real dick.
She tilted her chin up. He got a better look at her face and realized it wasn’t just hurt in her blue eyes. The old saying “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned” came to mind.
“You need to lock the door behind me in case that asshole comes back.”
“Looks to me like he’s already here,” she tossed out.
He deserved that, so he didn’t argue. “Please lock your door.”
“I can take care of myself. It’s what I should’ve done instead of letting you screw me!”
He walked out but stayed there by the door, clenching his fist and calling himself every name in the book. Only when he heard her slide the lock did he leave. And he was only three steps away before he was certain that he was walking away from something he’d miss forever.
* * *
Connor had slept two hours. Not good sleep. He’d woken up every half hour with the weight of remorse sitting on his chest, smothering him. He didn’t know what he regretted the most: having sex with her or being such a complete asshole afterward.
Probably being an asshole. But having sex with her was the reason he was an asshole. Oh, hell, he was too tired to even attempt to make sense of this. They’d had sex—not a big deal.
But it was a big deal. The whole night had been a big deal. Sitting on that sofa, telling her things he hadn’t told…anyone. Why?
He parked at the precinct and walked in. Checking the time, he saw he was about fifteen minutes late.
“Good morning,” Mildred said as he approached her desk. He normally liked her cheeriness, but this morning it was too much. He felt hungover in a world where smiles were like noise. In a world where freaking awesome sex turned you into a dick.
“I said ‘Good morning!’” Mildred repeated.
He forced himself to mumble something close to hello.
“Whoa,” she said when he passed her desk. “You got a message.”
Stopping, teeth clenched, he glanced back. “What?”
“Mr. Dunn called looking for you. He said he was on a job, but you could call him.”
She held out a sticky note.
He reached for it.
She yanked it back. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I gave him my cell number. Why didn’t he—”
Shrugging, she eyeballed him, as if trying to get inside his head. “I can usually count on a smile from you.”
He forced his lips to spread.
She made a face. “No! Stop. That’s pathetic.”
He exhaled. “Just give me the number.”
“Does this”—she drew a circle in the air, gesturing to his face—“have to do with my crossword buddy?”
“I have a headache.”
“I’ve got aspirin.” She reached in her desk drawer.
“I’ll be fine.”
She shook two pills from a bottle and held them out. “Why do you have a headache?”
He took the pills because arguing with her was like scolding a puppy. “Why are you here? You don’t work weekends.”
“Mark asked me to comb through some old vice files to look for missing women tied to the murder of Brie’s sister. I have five boxes of files heading my way.”
“Oh.” He held out his hand. “Can I have Dunn’s message?”
She handed him the sticky note. “Take the aspirin.” She pointed to his hand.
He looked at the paper. It wasn’t the same number he’d had for Dunn. He knew because he’d already called it twice this morning. He looked up to offer thanks.
She frowned. “Don’t fake-smile like that anymore. You look like you should be doing a constipation commercial.”
He laughed. “Why do I like you so much?”
“Seriously, is this about Brie?”
His smile faded as well. “I already said no.” He started walking.
“So you don’t need me to warn you that…” Her voice trailed off.
He turned around. “Warn me about what?”
“That Brie’s in your office, talking to Mark, Juan, and Billy. And she looked about as happy as you do. Did you two have another argument? Please tell me you didn’t handcuff her to anything else.” The woman’s face reddened. “I don’t mean…I wasn’t implying anything sexual.”
Throwing the two aspirin in his mouth, he chewed the bitter pills as he headed to his office.