Loyalty in Death (In Death #9)(20)

“You’re not going to seduce me in the middle of a workday.” But he was circling her toward the elevator, and she wasn’t putting up much of a fight.

“Did you take a lunch break?”

“No.”

He leaned back long enough to grin. “Neither did I.” Then his mouth was hot and demanding on hers, taking her in quick, greedy gulps that had her nerve ends going from alert to sizzle.

“Oh hell,” she muttered and groped clumsily for her communicator with one hand while she hung onto him with the other. “Wait, stop. Hold it a minute. Block video.” She let out a breath. God, the man could do the most amazing things with his tongue. “Dispatch, Dallas, Lieutenant Eve.”

He dragged her into the elevator, pressed her against the wall, and savaged her neck.

Dispatch, acknowledged.

“I’m taking an hour personal time.” She bit back a moan when his hand closed roughly over her breast. And his other hand slipped between her legs, the heel pressed firmly against her where the heat built fever bright.

The first helpless orgasm had her fighting a scream.

Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, on personal time. Affirmative. Dispatch out.

She barely managed to end transmission before he was tugging her shirt open. She fumbled for the release on her weapon harness, then grabbed a handful of his hair. “This is crazy,” she panted. “Why do we always want to do this?”

“I don’t know.” He swung her out of the elevator, then into his arms for the quick trip across the room to the big bed. “I just thank God for it.”

“Put your hands on me. I want your hands on me.” And they were, even as she fell beneath him onto the bed.

“A year ago.” His lips traced over her face, along her jaw. “I didn’t know your body, your moods, your needs. Now I do. It only makes me want you more.”

It was insane, she thought dimly, as she met his mouth with the same urgent hunger that touching him, tasting him, always caused this deep ache to grind inside her.

Whether they loved fast and furious such as now, or with sweeping tenderness, that ache, that want never seemed to lessen.

He was right. He knew her body now, as she knew his. She knew where to touch to make his muscles tense, where to stroke to make them quiver. And that knowledge, that familiarity was unbearably seductive.

She knew what he would bring her, this time, every time, whether it was a slow, burning build or one breathless burst: pleasure, deep and dazzling, with the excitement that shimmered around it.

He found her breast, giving himself the thrill of taking her into his mouth. Soft, firm, his. Her back bowed, her breath caught, and beneath his busy tongue, her heart hammered.

His hand closed around the teardrop diamond she wore — a symbol that she had learned to take what he so needed to give her.

Then they rolled, tugging at clothes so flesh could slide and stroke torturously against flesh.

Her breathing quickened, firing his blood. She who was strong and steady could be made to tremble under him. He could feel her body straining toward release, see in her face those flickers of shock and delight as it built.

As he took her over, he closed his mouth over hers and swallowed her long, shuddering moan.

It wouldn’t be enough. Even as her system started that lovely glide toward contentment, she knew he would drive her back up again. Drive her to where every pulse in her body pounded, every nerve sparked.

Braced and ready, she reached for him, struggling to give back even as her mind shattered and emptied, her system careened helplessly back into the heat.

She said his name, only his name, and arched up to take him inside her. The joining was smooth, and it was hot. Agile, eager, she pistoned her hips to meet each thrust. She could drive him as well as be driven. His fingers clamped down on hers, locked tight. Another layer of intimacy.

She could see in his eyes, so wildly blue, that he was as lost as she in this moment, this magic.

Only you. She knew he thought it, even as she did. Then those glorious eyes went opaque. With one breathless cry, she clung to his hands and threw herself over with him.

He lowered himself, sighing as he stretched out to rest his head between her br**sts. Beneath him her body had gone lax as water. He knew she’d spring up soon enough, throw on her clothes, and go back to the work that consumed her.

But for now, for just a few moments more, she was content to drift.

“You should come home for lunch more often,” he murmured.

She laughed.

“Fun time’s over. I’ve got to get back.”

“Mm-hmm.” But neither of them made a move to rise. “We have dinner at eight at The Palace with some top-level staff and their spouses from one of my transportation arms.”

She frowned a little. “Did I know that?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. I’ve got this thing at seven.”

“What thing?”

“Will reading. At B. D. Branson’s.”

“Ah. No problem, I’ll shift dinner to eight-thirty and we’ll go by Branson’s first.”

“There’s no we here.”

He lifted his head from her breast, smiled. “I think I just proved you wrong.”

“It’s a case, not sex.”

“All right, I won’t have sex with you at Branson’s, but it might have been interesting.”