Origin in Death (In Death #21)(62)

Ignoring her, he wrapped his arms around her waist. "Search and mark ID photos of students, staff-"

"Female spouses and offspring of staff and any female employees, female spouses, and offspring of employees."

"Very thorough," Roarke commented.

"Let's keep being thorough."

"Doing my best," he said and slid his hands under her sweatshirt.

"Not that way. I'm going to let it run for the whole time. Maybe she met Dolores at some alumni function. Computer, search for a match with- Jeez, Roarke, hold on a minute."

His hands were very busy. "What did Trina put on you this time? Let's buy a vat of it."

"I don't know. I'm losing my track. Match the generated images with the ID photo and security image on file for Nocho-Alverez, Dolores."

Multiple commands acknowledged. Working . . .

"Or she met her off-site, at the center, at the fricking salon. Hired her. Dozens of options."

"Have to start with one." Roarke turned Eve around to face him. "Your hair smells like autumn leaves."

"Dead?"

"Burnished. And you taste like ... let me see." He nibbled his way down her temple, over her cheekbone, to her mouth. "Sugar and cinnamon, warmed together." He flipped open the button of her pants as he deepened the kiss.

"Now I have to do a search of my own, see if Trina's left any surprises for me."

"I told her I'd twist her arms into knots if she put any temp tattoos on me this time."

He cruised his hands up, over her br**sts, and her heart began to shudder.

"You know that only challenges her. Nothing here," he said as he drew her sweatshirt up, off. "Just my wife's lovely, unadorned br**sts."

"Mavis's are mongo." Eve let her head fall back as his lips skimmed over her.

"Yes, I noticed."

"She had Trina paint one nipple blue and the other pink."

He lifted his head slightly. "That may be just a bit too much information. Why don't I just say I prefer yours."

Her stomach tightened, pleasurably, as he closed his mouth o hers. "You could say that. I had too much wine. Otherwise, I wouldn't be making this so easy for you."

He flipped open the next button, and her pants slid down her hips. "Step out," he murmured.

"You're still dressed." And her head was spinning.

"Step out," he repeated, sliding those hands over her as she did.

"You're all naked and soft, and I like the idea of riding my tongue over you, top to bottom, bottom to top until you . . . Well, well. What have we?"

Her brain had gone dull on her, so she only blinked at first when she followed Roarke's gaze down her own body.

There, low on either side of her belly, were three small, sparkling red hearts, with a long silver arrow piercing through each trio. Pointing, she realized, at the goal.

"For crap's sake. What if somebody sees them?"

"If someone other than me sees them, you're in serious trouble. He traced a finger down one trio, made her shudder. "And they're very pretty."

"They're sparkly hearts pointing at my crotch."

"They are, yes. And while I appreciate the directional assistance believe I could find my way all on my own." To prove it, he slid his fingers down her. Into her.

Her breath gasped out as she gripped his shoulders for balance.

God, the heat of her. The quick, wet heat. That alone seduced him. "I love to watch your face when it goes through you. When I go through you. Love to watch when it takes you over. Eve."

Her knees had dissolved, and everything above them throbbed with sensation. Liquid excitement, pouring through her as his hands, his lips, tongue, teeth explored. To hear him say her name as he took her over, the music of his voice enticed her even as his hands teased, tormented.

She let herself ride the wave, then let herself melt into it.

Her pliancy, such a contrast to her strength and will, was arousing. Outrageously. Her absolute involvement in him, in them, while everything else around them washed away in pleasure and passion, in love and lust. When he pulled her with him to the floor, she slid down, slid under him like silk. There he had her mouth, warm and generous. Her skin, smooth and fragrant.

Then he was inside her, where there was nothing else. And he let her yielding take him with her.

She could have curled up to sleep on the floor without a word of complaint. Every cell in her body was relaxed and satisfied. But when she felt herself starting to drift off, she shook it off, sat up. And let out a startled yelp when she saw the cat perched on her desk, staring un-blinkingly with different-colored eyes.

Roarke studied the cat while he ran a hand lightly down Eve's back. "Does he approve or disapprove, do you think? He never lets on."

"I don't give a rat's ass, but I don't think he should be watching us while we're having sex. It can't be right."

"Maybe we should get him a girlfriend."

"He's been fixed."

"He still might enjoy the companionship."

"Not enough to share his salmon fixes." Because it was just weird to have the cat staring, especially when she was wearing little sparkly red hearts, she grabbed her pants, pulled them on.