Treachery in Death (In Death #32)(68)

Watched as he skimmed his hands over her skin, as he rounded them over firm br**sts. She sighed out her pleasure as her eyes went heavy. Then he lowered his head, sampled her, savored her. Stirred her toward moans as he traced his tongue down her torso.

She felt those nimble fingers unhook her belt, and her breath quickened at their touch, at the anticipation of more. He stripped her, inch by inch, using those nimble fingers, his lips, his tongue to saturate her in sensation—slow, steady waves that rolled over her, rolled through her until she was drenched.

Dazzled, dazed, she reached for him, found his lips again with hers. Struggling to take her time, as he had, she touched, and bared. She sampled and savored.

Undid him, he thought. She undid him. She always could. She could make him feel weak as water, strong as a god all at once, and more a man than he’d ever hoped to be. With her, it was more than the thrill of flesh against flesh, more than the heat and beat in the blood.

Love was a gift shared.

When he eased into her, the gift was sweet, and tender. Again, her hand rested on his cheek. Again he watched her heart fill her eyes. Watched until his own flew into them.

She lay quiet for a time, stroking his hair, content to stay pinned under his weight.

“It was a really nice walk,” she said at last.

“Good, healthy exercise, walking.”

She laughed. “I feel pretty healthy right now. Hungry, too.”

“I’m with you there.” He eased up, smiled down at her. “You look healthy, my darling Eve, lying naked in the sunlight.”

“If you’d have suggested a couple hours ago I’d be lying naked in the sunlight I’d’ve called bullshit. But I don’t feel pissed or pissy anymore, so I guess it was healthy.”

She sat up, reached for her tank, then her eyes popped as she tapped a hand on the wire camouflaged between her br**sts. “I forgot about the wire.”

“Well, one hopes it’s off or we’ve given Feeney and/or McNab some unscheduled entertainment.”

“It’s off—I cued it in the pub. But, Jesus, I’m not supposed to forget it’s there.”

“You were busy walking,” he said when she dragged the tank over her head.

“It’s a damn good thing I didn’t call out for cinnamon donuts while you were busy walking with me.”

After they’d dressed he took her hand as he had before, gave her arm a little swing with his. “I expect you fancy pizza for dinner.”

“It’d be easy. I’ve got some digging to do, and I need to check Peabody’s progress on hers. Plus you haven’t given me an update on yours—on the finances.”

“We’ll get to that.”

“Problem?”

He wound back through the garden. “There wouldn’t be if you’d bent a bit, given me the go to look into it my way. I’ve got some surface right enough, but I can’t reach under the layers with my hands cuffed, Eve.”

“And if you use the unregistered, I’d have the data, but I couldn’t use it.”

“The unregistered would simplify it.”

“I guess I didn’t realize you could only do simple.”

He stopped, shot her a narrow, frustrated look. “I know damn well you’re aiming at my ego, and well played. I can do it without the unregistered. There are ways, but they’re still my ways. If I do it yours, it could take weeks. I’d think you could trust me to know how far over the line I can go and keep the data clean. Otherwise, you should do it yourself.”

She made a rude face behind his back as he opened the door. Childish, she knew, but it felt good. “If I can get proof Renee has secret accounts, that Garnet does, or Bix, I can clear Webster to open that part of it to IAB. He’s hamstrung, too.”

“Then unstring us, damn it.”

“You don’t have to get mad about it,” she said as they both strode past Summerset and up the steps.

“I’m not a cop,” Roarke reminded her.

“Alert the media.”

“Mind yourself, Lieutenant. I’m not a cop,” he repeated, “and it’s annoying to be asked to perform minor miracles while toeing the line you set.”

It was her turn for frustrated, with a pinch of temper. “I’ve moved it plenty, and you know it.”

“So move it again.”

“Every time I do, I worry I won’t remember where I left it.”

“You couldn’t forget that if you had amnesia. Added to it, I know where. I may not agree, but I know where you put it, and how far you can nudge it and feel you’ve done the right thing. You ought to know the same of me.”

She opened her mouth, prepared to punch back a little, then closed it again. “I do,” she realized. “I guess I do. This is ... a situation. If I had the data, I could pass it officially to Webster for IAB. If IAB could officially open an investigation, they’d find the damn data. I’m trying to find the way between, and what I’m hearing is you can’t get it with the way I’ve set this up. I don’t get why, but—”

“I can bloody do it.”

Insult reared up in his eyes. Not just insult, she decided. Geek insult.

“But it’ll take more time—considerable time.” He lifted his brows, his voice coolly pleasant. “Would you like me to explain all the technical reasons, roadblocks, fail-safes, and so on as to why?”