Judgment in Death (In Death #11)(95)

"I must do a great deal of walking away."

She didn't laugh, as he meant her to. "No, that's the thing. You don't." She came around the counter, the console, then took his face in her hands. "You just don't."

"Eve." He ran his hands up her arms, to her shoulders.

"I'm not finished yet. It's a good plan. Not a great one, but we can fine-tune it. I'd rather another way. I'd rather you'd use that 'link to contact whoever it was you were just talking to and agree to go off planet and do whatever the hell it is you do nobody else seems to be able to pull off. I'd rather that, Roarke, because you mean more to me than anything ever has or ever could. But it's not going to happen. And if anything happens to you Friday night -- "

"It won't."

"If anything happens to you," she repeated, "I'm going to dedicate my life to making yours a living hell."

"Fair enough," he murmured as her mouth came up to his.

"An hour." She wrapped herself around him. "Let's go away from this for one hour. I need to be with you. I need to be who I am when I'm with you."

"I know the perfect place."

She had a fondness for the beach -- the heat, the water, the sand. She could relax there in a manner she allowed herself so rarely.

He could give her the beach for an hour, take it for himself in the holo-room, where illusions were only a program away.

The island he chose, with its long sickle curve of white-sugar sand, its lazily waving palms, and fat, fragrant flowers, was a setting that suited both of them. The baking heat from the gold ball of sun was offset by the breeze that flowed in from the sea like the tide and brought the scent of it to the air.

"This is good." She breathed deeply, felt the tension in her neck and shoulders melt away. She wanted the same for him. "This is really good." She started to ask if he'd set the timer, then decided not to spoil the moment or the mood.

Instead, she stripped off her jacket, yanked off her boots.

The water was a clear and dreaming blue, frothed with white at the shore, like lace on a hem. Why resist?

Her weapon harness came next, then her trousers. She angled her head, looked at him. "Don't you want to swim?"

"Eventually. I like watching you strip. It's so... efficient."

She laughed. "Yeah, well enjoy yourself." She tugged off her shirt, then the little scoop-necked tank beneath. Naked as a newborn, she raced to the sea and dived under the waves.

"I intend to," he murmured, and watched her strike out, always just a little too far for safety, before he undressed.

She swam like an eel, fast and fearless. For a time he paced himself to her, a companionable competition. Then he simply heeled over on his back to float in the current, to let the water, the sun, the moment, wash away the fatigue that had nagged at him.

And to wait for her.

She swam up beside him, treaded water. "Feel better?"

"Considerably."

"You looked tired before." And she wanted to stroke that fatigue away. "You hardly ever do."

"I was tired before."

She let her fingers tangle in his hair. "You get your second wind, I'll race you back to shore."

He had his eyes closed and kept them that way. "Who says I don't have a second wind?"

"Well, you're just floating there like flotsam. Or maybe it's jetsam. I never know which is which."

"I've heard, in some circles, this is called relaxing. But..." His arm sneaked under the water, then around her. "Since you have all this energy to spare."

"Hey." She laughed a little as their legs tangled. "We're way over our heads here."

"Just the way I like it." His mouth came to hers, wet and teasing. His arm drew her close against him.

And they went under.

Warm, clear water, with the sun dancing on the surface. His mouth soft on hers, his body firm. For both of them, she let herself go, sliding deeper into the liquid blue. Sliding deeper into the kiss. When they surfaced, she filled her lungs and pressed her cheek against his.

They let the water rock them, a steady, undulating rhythm that reflected the mood. Here, with light strokes over wet skin, was the tenderness they'd both needed. The brush of his lips on her shoulder made her smile and let her float on sensation as easily as she floated in the sea.

She turned her face to his, found his mouth again, and drugged herself on the taste of him.

They drifted lazily toward shore, rising up on the waves, sinking again, clinging together, drawing apart only far enough to touch.

When she felt sand beneath her feet, she stood in the waist-high water and watched his face as he traced his fingertips over her.

"I love the look of you, darling Eve. The way you look under my hands."

Her br**sts, small and firm, cupped neatly in his palms, seemed to heat as he captured them. Water sparkled over her skin, tiny diamonds that turned to tears and melted back into the blue.

"Give yourself to me." His fingers trailed down her torso, over her hips. "Go under for me." And slid into her.

She let out her breath on a sigh, caught it again on a moan. Pleasure, languid, liquid, lapped at her senses. The sun dazzled her eyes until all she could see was blue. He dazzled her body until all she could feel was bliss.