Along Came Trouble(61)

He got one hand between them and unzipped her shorts. She was wet. He made her wetter. She talked dirty in his ear and made him harder.

A phone rang.

He slipped one finger inside her. She gasped. Then another, and she swore.

The phone kept ringing.

She swore again, but this time it wasn’t the good kind.

“That’s not mine, Clark.”

“Shh,” he told her. Now that she’d pointed it out, he couldn’t pretend not to notice. His phone was ringing on her kitchen table. It was almost certainly a work call. If it was someone on his team, he needed to return the call within a minute. Two minutes at the most.

He’d always performed well under pressure.

Four more rings, and he had his zipper down, the condom on, and her shorts and panties around her ankles. She kicked them off. The call went to voice mail. He lifted her, gripping her hips as he positioned himself between her legs.

When she wrapped her thighs around him, he moved inside her, deep and hard, groaning at how tight she was, how sexy, how utterly intoxicating. “Ellen,” he said, his face buried in the silky fall of her hair. She draped her arms around his shoulders and the back of his head, clutching him to her neck and spurring him on with every eager, helpless sound she made.

Neither of them lasted long. Maybe a dozen strokes, his fingers plucking at her nipple, and she started to tighten around him. He followed almost immediately with an orgasm so stupefying, he thought he might black out.

Chest heaving, mind temporarily blank, he held her there for a long moment before he remembered the phone. When he raised his head to look at her, her eyes were still cloudy and her lips parted. He kissed her soft mouth, wishing he could carry her to bed and keep her there all morning. Make up for this crude, greedy assault with a day of languid exploration.

His phone buzzed. A message waiting.

Kissing her one more time to tell her he’d rather be staked to a hill of fire ants than leave her right now, he disentangled himself and set her feet on the floor, waiting to ensure she wouldn’t wobble. Then he made himself presentable again and checked his messages.

“Hey, Caleb. It’s Eddie. We’ve got a situation here at Miss Short’s place. She, uh, seems to think she’s going to drive herself to an appointment. Alone. You didn’t say we were allowed to keep her here against her will, but I thought she was supposed to be escorted, and this isn’t on the schedule. We’re blocking her exit, and she’s not real happy with Sean right now. Give me a call back, okay?”

He found Ellen’s shorts under the table and brought them to her. She was still standing with her head tipped back against the wall, watching him. She looked satisfied and happy and so sexy he wanted to shoot Carly and have done with it.

“I have to go,” he said with an apologetic smile. “They need me over at Carly’s.”

“Aren’t you going to ask your question first?”

He kissed her one more time, his thumb tracing the delicate line of her jaw. He’d forgotten all about the questions. He asked the first one that popped into his head. “What’s your middle name?”

She gave him half a smile. “Sydney.”

“Ellen Sydney Callahan.” It tripped right off his tongue. “I like that.”

“To think I spent the last two hours worrying about what you were going to ask me.”

“Did you? Well, don’t get too comfortable. I went easy on you this time.” He started backing toward the side door, unwilling to turn away before he had to.

“I don’t know, I’d say you roughed me up pretty good.” Her eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Sorry, honey.”

“Don’t apologize. I’ve never had a quickie with a tall, handsome man in black before.”

“You like the Man in Black thing?”

“Zorro, you can do me any time.”

She was still laughing when he closed the door. He honestly couldn’t tell if she was laughing with him or at him.

He felt so good, he didn’t really care.

The sight of Carly laying into Sean was enough to sober him up fast. He heard the words “pompous,” “high horse,” and “sue” before he made it out of Ellen’s yard. The red curls rioting around Carly’s face and the round swell of her stomach under her flouncy white shirt made an amusing contrast to the rest of her: sharp words, sharp nose, sharp elbows flying through the air as she made her displeasure clear. Carly Short, human razor blade. When she saw him, her eyes narrowed as if she were preparing to slice him up.