I See You (Criminal Profiler, #2)(21)

The flirtatious back-and-forth was starting to feel more intimate than she had intended. Prolonged foreplay and kissing had been something she had only shared with Jeff. And since his death, she had avoided emotional attachments, including one with Vaughan.

She stepped back from Vaughan and slid off her panties. His breathing was quick, and she was pleased to know that she was not the only one who was anxious to be in bed. Later, she might analyze why he had this sudden need for them to savor each other. For now, she did not care.

She took him by the hand, and as she climbed onto the mattress, she pulled him with her. She knew what he liked—knew how to make him forget whatever promise he had made to go slow. She cupped her breasts and moistened her lips as her fingers slid down her belly to her sex. Seconds later, he was on top of her, and she maneuvered his erection to her opening.

She felt his urgency as he pressed inside her and sensed his resolve wavering. She smoothed her hand over his buttocks, coaxing him deeper inside of her. He moved in and out of her slowly as her body adjusted to him, and soon he was thrusting harder.

Sexual tension built in her body, and she gave him high marks for the way he had learned the pressure points on her body so quickly.

She closed her eyes, trying to remember what it had felt like when she had been with Jeff. Six years was a lifetime, and the intervening time had stripped away almost every last memory she had cherished.

Now more than ever, she desperately wanted to remember Jeff, but she could not recall a single detail. Later, she would play back his last voicemail message on her phone and recharge the fading recollections.

As if he sensed her mind drifting, Vaughan pushed deeper into her, shooting electricity through her entire system. He brought her focus back to the sensations stirring in her body. She wanted to turn off her brain and shut out the sadness, if only for a little while.

Desire and release roared around her, chasing her closer to the cliff. She wanted to free-fall over the edge. She wanted to feel.

“Open your eyes,” he said.

His deep voice was a distant distraction, and she wanted nothing more than to swat it away like a bug. Her focus needed to remain on the orgasm that promised release. She did not want to acknowledge work, life, grief, or him.

As he slowed his pace, her race to the edge decelerated. She raised her pelvis.

“Open your eyes.”

The way the words were spoken was so clear and concise; she knew if she did not obey, he would stop and rob her of the payoff.

With a sense of resolve, Zoe opened her eyes and discovered he was studying her with an odd mix of desire and annoyance.

“You’re not the only one who reads body language,” he said.

“What does that mean?” Her distant voice echoed with insincerity.

“Who are you with?” he asked.

“You,” she said.

He brushed the stray wisps of hair from her face. “Are you?”

“I don’t see anyone else.”

“Not even your late husband?”

Jesus, did it really matter? They were both getting what they wanted. She expected nothing from him. No strings or baggage.

The buildup to her release was losing steam, and she didn’t want to go home alone and sexually frustrated. “It’s only you,” she lied.

A slight cock of his head told her he wasn’t sure he believed her. He wanted to. But . . .

“Right now, it’s just you and me.” She smiled enough to ease the apprehension coiling in his body. “I can get to where I want to go alone, but I’d rather do it with you.” She arched toward him in a show of unity.

His eyes smoldered, and seemingly shoving aside his doubt, he quickened his pace. Sweat moistened the base of his spine, and she knew he had lost himself in the moment. She tightened her grip on her breast and moaned as the edge raced toward her faster than it ever had.

When she tumbled, she arched, allowing her body to give in completely to the sensations washing over her in rolling, hot waves.

Vaughan’s body went rigid, and the muscles in his neck bunched as he bored deep into her. The tension in his back released, and his eyes glistened with the triumphant spark men had when they orgasmed.

He lowered down on his elbow and rolled on his back beside her. She closed her eyes again, nestled closer to his warmth, and drifted back to that fleeting place between the past and the present. She was not with her husband but with Vaughan; she could almost pretend she was happy like she used to be.

And these days, almost had to be good enough.



Nikki’s heart beat in her chest as she shoved through the front door of her condo. In one hand, she clutched a grocery bag stuffed with the essentials: wine, aspirin, and coffee. In the other, she balanced a duffle, crammed with files she kept in her storage unit, and a pizza box.

She still couldn’t believe that the skull belonged to Marsha Prince!

Nikki pushed her front door closed and crossed into the kitchen, dumping her purchases on the marble countertop.

After toeing off her shoes, she moved to her computer and pulled up her site. She had written and posted a quick recap of Marsha right after the detective and agent had left her. She checked the comment section and saw two dozen comments. Not stellar, but not terrible.

From the bag she removed the DVDs she had retrieved from storage. She arranged them in chronological order, starting with the first story she had filed on the Prince girl’s disappearance. Today she would create a montage of videos for her site so that her audience could see what it had been like for her to cover it in real time.