“You being turned on turns me on.” The want, the need, he felt for this woman blew his mind. The smell of her skin made him light-headed, and as hot as a pistol. And yet, making love to her slowly was its own reward. Strong yet fragile, she was a match for his fierce and fevered passion.
Cruz kissed her luscious mouth slow and hard and deep, and felt her shudder through his own body. Everything male in him responded to the small sigh and whimpers she made.
His hands drifted over her body, her contours, hills and valley so familiar to him now, yet new because he was taking his time. Savoring her. Knowing that, after the horror she’d seen, she needed to be treated with gentle, loving hands and deep, sweet kisses.
Now he knew he was never going to kill her. Now, instead of being irritated that he couldn’t resist her, he was free to relish every second that he was with her. He fondled her breast, loving the weight and shape in his hand.
“Too light.” Cupping the back of his hand, she pressed his fingers down hard. His thumb rasped her nipple, just the way she liked it.
Her abdomen was flat and firm, her skin as soft as the smoothest satin. He kissed the little dimple of her navel, then swirled his tongue where he had kissed.
A primordial instinct made him want to brand her, claim her as only his. Fucking insane.
He had other commitments. So why think beyond the moment with her?
She dug her nails into his back, her hips undulating against him. He grabbed one of the pillows, stuffing it under her ass. Rising above her, he settled himself between her thighs and slid into her slowly. She was wet, slick with juices, and the slow movement of her hips in counterpoint to his set him on fire.
Sweat glued their skin together, and his breathing came hard and fast.
Her head rolled back and forth on the pillow.
His teeth ground as he tried to hold back, to give her as much pleasure as he could before they went over the edge together. All his attention was on Mia’s responses: he knew her body so well, knew when she wanted him to touch her breasts, when she wanted his hand between them to touch her clit.
She cried out his name when he kissed from her breasts to her neck, then nibbled at the soft skin beneath her ear.
He moved with urgent power, primal in his need to come at the same time as Mia but so aroused by her he worried he’d come first. And that would be a first. He never lost control. Without the drumbeat of a killer governing his thoughts, she aroused him too much.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered, sensing that his urgency was driving him to the brink. “Please. Don’t stop.”
Her sheath clutching him tighter and tighter, he gritted his teeth, trying to make it last. Impossible.
“Let go, sweetheart. I’ll catch you.” Reaching between them, he found her clit in the swollen folds and rubbed it lightly; then, when she moaned and her hips bucked against him, he rolled her clit between his thumb and his index finger.
With every slow thrust into her, he applied more and more pressure on her clit. She screamed his name as she came. He nibbled at her neck, then let go, thrusting hard and exploding into her, biting her, branding her as his.
For now.
Chapter Thirteen
The bedroom smelled of sex and fresh paint when Mia emerged from a tepid shower. Cruz had woken her with coffee, a juicy kiss, and two slices of peanut butter toast, then informed her he was painting. They’d decided to complete the parlor so that she could get the furniture delivered before she left. Mia didn’t tell Cruz the “before she left” part of that decision. Her lips had clung to his as he leaned over her, arms braced on either side of her head as he gave her a lingering good-morning kiss.
They’d spoken to the police. The bad news was that Latour still hadn’t been apprehended. But the good news was he had no idea where his wife and child were, so at least they were safe from him. He couldn’t run forever. Then they called Charlie’s foster mother and spoke to her, then to Charlie. He sounded subdued, but he was safe, and they assured him he’d be reunited with his mom soon. They also told him they’d pick him up later for a short visit to the hospital. Yes, they’d bring Oso.
Soon was a relative term. Daisy was in bad shape. But she’d mend, and as soon as that happened, Mia planned to fly her and Charlie to San Francisco. They could start a new life there, far away from Marcel.
All of that had happened less than an hour ago. Mia heard Cruz murmuring to Oso, and the dog’s happy barks as she flung open the window to let in a warm breeze and the green smell of the bayou.
She dressed in tight black exercise shorts and a stretchy pink tank top, and made up the bed with fresh linens. Today she was determined to master the pole. Moving her computer within easy reach at the foot of the bed, she cued up the first exercise video.