Tightrope (Burning Cove #3)(51)

He raised one hand and wrapped it gently around the back of her neck. His touch sent a flash of electricity through her. His palm was warm and strong and gentle.

“Exactly what did you read into that kiss?” he asked.

“I realize that we were both probably more than a little rattled by the possibility that the tire blowout was not an accident. And then there was that man who happened by a little too conveniently afterward. Not to mention that we thought we had gotten a solid lead from the ambulance attendant. The kiss was just one of those things.”

“One of what things?”

“The sort of thing that is brought on by the heat of the moment.”

“It was a very hot moment, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes it was. Very hot.”

He tangled his fingers in her hair. “Maybe a lot hotter than you intended?”

“Probably hotter than either of us intended.”

“I was fine with the heat.”

“You were?”

“Definitely. What about you? Too much heat?”

“No,” she said. She used her tongue to wet her lips. “It was just the right amount of heat.”

He urged her closer. “What do you say we try it again and see if the temperature feels right?”

The atmosphere was so hot and so charged she was sure they could ignite a wildfire.

“I would like to run another experiment,” she said.

“You’re not worried about the results?”

She smiled. “I used to fly for a living, remember?”

“Looks like we’re both going to fly tonight,” he said. “Without a net.”

When he kissed her, he made no effort to tamp down the fierce edge of his desire.

For a moment she stood very still beneath the onslaught of the embrace, calculating risks, trying to decide how far she wanted to go; searching for balance before she took flight.

But the kiss did not allow for balance or certainty. It was an all-or-nothing kiss.

She felt a shudder go through him. He tightened his hold on her. She gave a soft little cry, released her grip on the blanket, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

The night caught fire.

“Amalie,” he whispered.

He crushed her close and slid one hand down her back.

Her silky little bra fell away first. The satiny, wide-legged panties styled like tap dancers’ shorts disappeared a moment later.

She slipped her hands beneath the edge of his undershirt and flattened her palms against his chest. The action brought a groan to his lips.

He lifted her up out of the small pool of underwear, carried her to the four-poster, and settled her on the tumbled sheets. He paused just long enough to get rid of his own underwear and then he fell into bed beside her.

He gathered her into his arms and began to explore her with his hands and his lips, searching out all the secret places.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he said.

He kissed her breasts and then the curve of her hip. When he discovered the hot, wet place between her legs, she clenched her fingers in his hair.

A deep excitement was thrumming in her veins, tightening everything inside her. The tension grew unbearable. He eased her thighs farther apart and stroked her.

The release seemed to come out of nowhere, rippling through her in an irresistible tide. She was unprepared; stunned by the intensity of the experience. She clung to him, her hips lifting off the bed.

“Matthias,” she gasped. “Matthias. What are you doing?”

He sank himself into her just as the tide began to recede. The sensation was almost too much. Balanced on the knife edge between pain and pleasure, she gave a muffled shriek and convulsed again.

He drove into her, filling her completely She tightened her thighs around him and clutched him close.

His climax ripped through him. The night was on fire.





Chapter 33


Amalie studied the shadowed ceiling and tried to keep very still. She did not want to disturb Matthias. He needed his rest. But she could not stand the stillness or the silence for long. She was still flying.

“Are you awake?” she whispered.

She thought she heard a muffled grunt from the neighboring pillow. Taking that as an encouraging sign she levered herself up on one elbow and looked at Matthias. He was on his belly, his head turned away from her. The sheet was pulled up to his waist, leaving his back bare. Tentatively she touched his shoulder.

“I just wondered if you were awake,” she said.

Matthias exhaled, a long sigh, and rolled onto his side, facing her. His hair was tousled, and in the shadows, his eyes had a drowsy, sated look.

“Apparently I’m awake,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

“Nothing important,” she said.

“You’re sure about that? Because if you are absolutely certain that you have nothing important to say, I will go back to sleep.”

“I wanted to ask you about that engineering firm you said you worked for, Failure Analysis, Incorporated.”

Matthias folded one arm behind his head and appeared to resign himself to an extended conversation. “What about it?”

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “I suppose I’m just curious. It seems like an unusual business.”