No sadness, she thought, no harsh images. Now only heat and pleasure for both of them.
She caught his bottom lip between her teeth, gave it a sharp little nip before she swung her leg over, straddled his lap. Then, easing back, studying his face, she drained the rest of her wine.
“Should probably work off the alcohol.”
She bowed back, lean and agile, set her empty glass beside his. Then flowed up, fast, latched her mouth to his, gripped his face with her hands as she plundered.
She rocked him to the core. She always could. That aggressive mouth lit lust’s short fuse so he hardened like steel under her, so the hands digging into her hips shot up to close over her breasts.
“This time it’s you wearing too many clothes.” His fingers flicked open the buttons of her vest.
“We’ll work around them because this has to be fast.” She used her teeth on the side of his throat. “Hard and fast. Got me?”
“I’ve got you, and I’ll be keeping you.”
He dealt with her shirt, managed to tug the tank out of her waistband despite the weapon harness. And found it acutely arousing to possess her breasts with her weapon still strapped to her side.
He had a dangerous woman in his hands, and yes, he’d keep her.
She rocked against him, tormenting them both, and as if starved for the taste, ravaged his mouth.
Candlelight and snowfall provided a romantic backdrop, a soft contrast to the greedy lust they spurred in each other. New York gleamed, a frozen city through the glass, as she dragged at his belt.
“Fast and hard,” she reminded him, her breath already tearing as she struggled to help him yank her trousers down past her knees.
She didn’t wait, but took him in, muffled her own moan against his mouth.
She rode him like a stallion, spurred into a mad gallop that left him no choice but to race with her.
The world blurred. There was no world but her and that strong, glorious body, those wild, pistoning hips. She came like lightning, a snap and flash that bolted through him like a current.
Melting from it, she dropped her head on his shoulder. “Just need to catch my breath.”
“You’ll find it later.”
Half mad, he dragged her jacket down her arms, trapping them, shoving her back to open her more. Now he rode.
She couldn’t free her arms, couldn’t grab hold. Couldn’t stop as the fresh orgasm built fast and brutal over the first.
“Roarke. I can’t.”
“Take. Just take.”
He watched her, all but drowned in her. The crisp, professional clothes disheveled from his hands, the weapon at her side as much a part of her as a limb.
Her face warmed by sex and the candlelight and alive with the crazed pleasure they brought each other.
And he watched as those eyes, those sharp and cynical cop’s eyes, went blind from it.
He dragged her back, wrapped tight around her. Let himself break.
She shuddered against him, quaking aftershocks. Then, fighting for breath, went lax.
“There you are.” He pressed his face to the curve of her neck, simply overwhelmed by her. “Relaxed again.”
“That was more than a minute.”
“Time well spent. I adore you beyond reason, Eve.”
“Who needs reason? But I guess we’ll remember at some point to get naked first.”
She eased back, laid a hand on his cheek. “I have to get back to it.”
“So we will.”
“I think I’m going to stop off, change clothes. Might as well get the comfort on.”
“Another fine idea.”
She swung off him, hitched up her trousers. “Was it hard? Not that,” she said when he laughed, “because, obviously. I mean adjusting to me. The cop thing.”
“Shockingly easy.”
She shook her head as he rose, took her hand. “I never can figure it.”
“Who needs reason?” he reminded her.
She changed into flannel pants, an ancient hooded sweatshirt, and thick socks. She noted Roarke’s choice wasn’t so different from hers, but he somehow looked stylishly casual while she knew she just looked sloppy.
In her office she programmed coffee while Roarke strolled into the kitchen. He came out with two slabs of chocolate cake.
“Where’d you get that?”
“I just popped off to the cake factory.” He set the dessert plates down on her command center. “Your AutoChef, Lieutenant.”
“I had chocolate cake?” She took a bite, made a sound not dissimilar from one she’d made during sex. “I had really amazing chocolate cake?”
“Apparently. Now we both do.”
“Excellent.” And stuffing in a second bite, got back to work.
* * *
It took a couple hours, and more complications than she’d expected. What about the couple who’d been married in April but were divorced as of September? Or the couple who hadn’t been married, but were now, like the Patricks?