He met her eyes again. “I want to touch you all over.” She nearly cried out when he traced those calloused fingers lightly, thoroughly over her breasts, down her belly and paused at the juncture of her thighs. “I want to taste you, too. Right here.”
Her knees buckled, and if he hadn’t gripped her hips again, she would have joined her clothes on the floor.
“But I’ll have to give you a rain check on that because I want this more.” Lifting her slightly, he turned her around. “Brace yourself.”
She pressed her hands against the mantle, gripping it tightly when she heard the sound of his jeans unsnapping, his zipper lowering. Need clawed through her.
“Hurry.”
“One more thing.”
She heard the sound of foil being torn. The backs of his fingers brushed against her as he dealt with the condom. Then he was there, his sheathed penis pressing against her. One of his hands was on her stomach; the other molded itself against her right buttock. Heat seared her at both contact points as he eased her toward him. Using his knees, he widened her stance, and liquid fire pooled in her center when he rubbed the head of his penis against her opening.
“Please.” The word came out on a jagged moan.
“Shh.” Then his mouth fastened on her shoulder. Heat flashed through her as his teeth nipped.
She bit down hard on her bottom lip, stifling the cry as he pushed into her, farther and farther. And farther. When he reached the hilt, he paused as if determined to hold both of them there. But her climax was already beginning. By the time he withdrew and entered her a second time, her release was rocketing through her.
When she reached the peak, he grasped her more tightly to him, holding her anchored with one hand while he slipped the fingers of the other hand into her folds and found her clitoris. Then he increased the rhythm of his thrusts, back and forth, back and forth. Each time he seemed to fill her more completely. Incredibly, she felt the pressure begin to build again. This climax was longer and harder than the first, and reality seemed to spin away. Dimly, she was aware that he arched back and as he poured himself into her, she shattered.
When she could think again, breathe again, she was still trapped between D.C.’s body and the fireplace and he rested heavily against her. The sound of their ragged breathing filled the small apartment.
Other bits and pieces of reality drifted into her conscious mind. Cool marble pressed against the side of her face, and her knuckles were white where they still gripped the edge of the mantel.
D.C. was still inside of her. Hard and hot. And she still wanted him there. Right there. A flame of desire flared deep inside of her. She’d never felt like this before. So sated. So…sensuously female. And yet, impossibly, she wanted more.
She didn’t speak and wondered if she could. Perhaps her vocal chords had been seared by the heat they’d generated. Fiona wasn’t sure just how long they stood there, joined, before D.C. sighed and slowly withdrew. She echoed his sigh, and wondered if that was the only sound she was capable of.
“You all right?” D.C. asked.
“Mmm,” she managed as he gripped her hips and turned her around. Okay, she was capable of sound. Full words would come next.
His eyes were dark and intense when she met them. And there was a question in them. “That should have taken the edge off. But I’m not through with you. Not nearly.”
It gave her some satisfaction that he still seemed as on edge as she felt. “I’m not through with you, either.”
“Good.” He smiled at her, then brushed his lips against hers. “Gives us both something to look forward to, Lieutenant. Round one was fabulous.”
“Agreed.”
“You were fabulous.” Stepping back, he released her, then scooped up his jacket and moved toward the kitchen where he took care of the condom. By the time he turned back to her, his clothes were in place. Hers weren’t.
Not to be outdone by his efficiency, she stepped away from the hearth and gave thanks that her legs held. She made quick work of her clothes and was buttoning her blouse when he picked up the file folder with the clippings.
“If I remember your list correctly, the next stop is the National Gallery,” D.C. said. “I’ve got a plan about how we should handle that.”
She shot him a skeptical look. “I’m all ears as long as you remember that I have the final say.”
“Yes, Lieutenant.” With a grin, he shot her a mock salute before they left the room and climbed the stairs.
7
IT WAS SHORTLY AFTER NOON by the time that Charity Watkins, the tall, blonde woman in charge of the Rubinov exhibit, led Fiona down the long corridor toward the room where the diamond was on display. And Charity was not a happy camper.