Into the Night(24)



“Understandable.” He stalked toward her.

“I felt like I was being torn apart on the inside.” Her voice had dropped to a husky whisper. “I wanted to escape the pain. You were my escape.”

A beat of silence. The uncomfortable kind, and then he asked, “Is that all I was?”

Her cheeks burned, and she was glad he wouldn’t be able to see her blush in the darkness. “You’re my partner. You’re my friend.” One of the few friends she had because Macey had learned not to let people get too close. If you let the wrong person close...

His hand lifted and his fingers slid over her cheek. “I am your partner. I am your friend.” His hand curled under her chin. “And I’m your lover.”

One night. Just one.

“Remember that,” he said as his head came toward her. She thought he was going to kiss her. Macey tensed but she didn’t back away. I want his kiss. I want his mouth.

I want him.

“Remember that,” he whispered. “When you need someone to take away the pain again.”

Then he let her go and he backed away. Bowen walked off the balcony and went back into the cabin. Macey waited a few moments, pulling in deep breaths of that crisp, mountain air before she crept into the room. Her steps were almost sluggish. She turned off the lights. She climbed into the bed.

She closed her eyes—

She saw death.

*

HE WAS A fucking idiot.

Bowen glared at the darkness above him. He was stretched out in the bed—a king-size four-poster. He’d stripped. He’d crashed. He should be asleep.

Instead, he was wishing he’d put his mouth on Macey.

Fucking. Idiot. Her lips had parted. He’d heard the little catch in her breathing, the slight moan. She’d wanted to be kissed by him.

Why did I walk away?

His hands were fisted beside his body. And he ached. His cock was hard and swollen and Macey’s sweet scent was in his head. She was in his head. The woman was making him crazy.

The floor creaked. The faintest sound near the door. In a flash, he was up, the bedside lamp was on, and he grabbed his weapon from the nightstand.

And he had that weapon aimed—at Macey.

Macey in her sexy T-shirt, the soft cotton clinging so well to her curves. Macey with her shorts skimming the top of her gorgeous legs. Macey with her eyes so wide as she stared at him.

“Sorry,” he rasped, aware that his voice was far too rough. That was how he often felt around her—too rough. “Reflex.” A by-product of the job. Sometimes he just couldn’t turn things off. He lowered the gun and put it back on the nightstand.

Macey took a step closer to him. “I can’t sleep.”

Because she’d had one hell of a forty-eight hours. Seeing the bastard who’d tortured her again...finding the guy’s body. He knew that had taken a toll on her. Then today—shit, the explosion had been far too close for comfort and—

“I keep thinking about you.”

Bowen shook his head, sure he hadn’t heard her right.

“One night was supposed to be enough.”

He’d never thought one night with her would be enough. Not with the voracious hunger he had for her. He wanted his hands on her body. Wanted his mouth on her. Wanted his cock in her. But he was trying to play by Macey’s rules.

“But I want more.” She took another step closer.

His body felt as if it had turned to stone.

He watched her as she closed the distance between them, and then her soft hands were rising to press against his chest. “I know we’re crossing lines.”

They were destroying lines.

“But it’s just you and it’s just me here right now.” She licked her lower lip. His cock jerked. He wanted to be the one licking. “And I really need you tonight.”

She was using him. He got that. Macey wanted the rush she felt in his bed to banish the darkness around her. He might not have as many fancy degrees as Macey or Samantha did, but he understood people. He understood criminals and he understood victims.

Macey rose onto her toes and her lips pressed lightly to his.

His hands clamped down on her hips. “Wait.”

A shudder went through her body and he realized just how hard this was for her. Did the woman think he’d actually turn her away? Her?

Fuck, no.

“Want to make sure I’m clear on this...” His voice was even deeper. Closer to a growl now. “During the day, it’s hands-off.”

“If the FBI brass finds out we’re together, we won’t be partners any longer.”

No. They’d be separated.

“So, yes.” She swallowed. “Hands-off during the day. But at night...”

Her words had trailed away.

“Anything goes?” His hands tightened around her hips. He knew his hold was probably too hard, but he couldn’t help it. When a guy held his wet dream in his hands, he was going to hold on tight. And never let go.

“Anything goes,” she whispered back, and he was done. He took her mouth, his need for her clawing to the surface. The kiss was hard, desperate—because it had truly been one bitch of a day. Adrenaline still rode him hard with the kind of charge that even three showers hadn’t been able to cool. In the dark, he’d thought far too much about what could have happened in that gasoline-soaked cabin.

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