Sinclair Justice (Texas Rangers #2)(47)
For once she didn’t automatically react against the male arrogance in his gaze. He might as well have stated you’re mine. Her only reflex was instinctive—a tightening of her muscles upon him. He sucked in a harsh breath, and just like that, she brought the whirlwind into bed with them. Lifting her hips up as if he couldn’t get deep enough, he thrust in and out. She tried to push back, but he had her pinned, so she let her instincts take over again and flexed upon him as he entered, releasing as he exited, only to plunge back again hard enough to shake the bed. And soon, too soon, her mind didn’t prompt her body to flex upon him for her body took over. . . .
She was groaning, then, her eyes fluttering closed. As she felt the building pressure, she reveled in her own pulsations, knowing it brought them both closer to release. He went to the brink with her, his breathing harsh as he lifted her hips and held her wide to his invasion. That was all it took. She arched her back, crying out. He made a choked sound, half curse, half prayer, and stabbed deeply, arrowing home as if he belonged there, to bathe her in the fulfillment of their mutual climax. Simultaneously, she blew apart into a billion pieces. She cried out, for the spasms that gripped her had never been so hard or so pleasurable.
Only when he covered the sounds of her climax with his palm did she realize she was almost screaming. Then he replaced his hand with his mouth to claim the sweet gift of her surrender, his heart hammering against her.
He collapsed, letting her hips go, and she lay like a rag doll beneath him, gasping for breath. Slowly, slowly, they came down, but for a long moment, he stayed nestled inside her, as if loathe to break the intimacy. But finally she shifted a bit uncomfortably under his weight, and he levered himself to her side, pulling her head onto his chest.
She had to break the moment or burst into tears, so she teased him. “The girls must love it when you tase them. You don’t even need a stun gun. . . .” As he chuckled, she propped herself on an elbow, playing with the light whorl of hair around his nipples. The dark hair was speckled with gray, but that only made him more appealing to her. He was all man, yet sensitive enough to care about and empathize with who she was, both as a woman and as a person.
He caught her hand when she drifted lower in her exploration, brought it to his mouth and kissed it, whispering, “That’s nice to hear, but brevity is the soul of wit. I can give my opinion of you in one letter.”
Emm’s sense of the ridiculous was stimulated. She wrapped her fingers around his kiss, treasuring it for the long, lonely times. She rested her cheek on his wide chest. “Now you have me wondering. One letter? I’m that easy?”
“No, never easy.” He lifted her chin so he could kiss her mouth. “Here’s my opinion of you.” He murmured into her lips, “Mmmmm-mmmmmm.”
The humming of that drawn-out, delicious letter murmured against her sensitive mouth tingled in a delightful way that electrified her, scalp to toes. Just like she said, no Taser needed. At the same time, she melted, warmed by the nicest compliment she’d ever received.
But when he pulled her on top of him and ran his hands over her backside, molding it with his rancher palms, she tensed. “We can’t. Don’t you have to go back to work? It must be almost four . . .”
“Mmm, work.” And for the first time in twenty years, decorated Texas Ranger Captain Ross Sinclair missed a deadline.
After Ross left, Emm tried to work on her other cases, she really did, but she found herself staring into space with a foolish grin. She was a bit sore between the legs even after a long hot bath, but she welcomed that proof that she hadn’t dreamed the most fulfilling sexual experience of her life. She knew it had been too luminously enlightening for that feeling to be one-sided.
Which begged a larger question: Since neither just business nor just sex seemed to work between the two of them, what now?
In his office on the edge of downtown, Ross was wondering the same thing while he stared blindly at yet another open file. He should feel guilty for taking advantage of the sister of a victim, but the guilt would not come. She’d initiated things in a way that settled his few remaining doubts about her sexuality. Yet she’d also showed a certain shy wonder at the look and feel of a very aroused man, enough that he was also confident she didn’t sleep around much. She obviously loved holding little Trey, his closest confidantes liked her, and she had all the education, intelligence, and class he could wish for both as a Ranger and as a Sinclair.
But there was still a huge problem . . . He knew her desperation to find her sister and niece had increased. Their lovemaking would only complicate things because, consciously or not, she’d expect her lover to also be her champion of justice, an untenable situation for a Texas Ranger, and one reason he’d hesitated to pursue her.
But it was too late now for regrets, if he had any. Which he didn’t.
He would have to choose: Emm or the case.
Ross sighed heavily, then picked up the phone to make the call he’d been dreading. Being appointed the head of a multijurisdictional investigation that crossed international borders was a coup even for a decorated Ranger captain, and it would raise eyebrows throughout the agency when he asked to be removed. While Emm wasn’t a suspect—strictly speaking, she wasn’t even a victim—he was emotionally compromised, had been even before the unbelievable hours in her hotel room. He had no choice but to do this. He might as well have conflict of interest emblazoned on his forehead in scarlet letters.