Her lips were pale peach. He wondered if her nipples matched. The bottom of that lush lower lip curled up a bit. “No.”
The simple answer bugged him. Another lie. It was in the tilt of her stubborn chin, and the challenge sizzling in those emerald eyes. Damn, she’d be fun to try and push around. Ripping the truth from her in breathy little gasps while he pushed between her thighs may be worth the trouble.
Maybe.
“Then you’ve never experienced true passion,” he said.
That got her. Annoyance carved out her graceful features. She wasn’t as calm as she made people believe. “Yes, I have. You have no idea how great the passion was between us.”
Defensive. Cheater? The image of his wife, naked, on top of another man, still panged. He despised cheaters and their cowardice. Hated not being able to fight fairly and being made a chump. He could’ve forgiven Ellen for a multitude of sins but not that one.
“I’m not talking about good sex. A few orgasms. A cuddle. I’m talking about the down-and-dirty lust that wipes everything else from your mind except how your body feels against your lover. Over him. Under him. The feel of naked skin. The sweat, and the smells, and the excruciating, sweet agony of need for him to take you completely, over and over, until there’s nothing left of both of you.”
Her mouth formed a little O, and sweat broke out on her upper lip. Her fingers clenched in her lap, and Stone knew she was completely turned on. Her nipples beaded against her top. The pulse beat madly at the base of her swanlike neck. And he knew if he walked over to her right now, tipped her chair back, and hooked his fingers under those tight Lycra pants, she’d be soaking wet.
Playing with her affected him just as much, and he tried not to shift again in his chair as he hardened to full length. Why did he have to experience such chemistry with a woman completely wrong for him? In one week they’d tear each other apart, they were so different. Yet his primitive need to claim her beat through his body like an animal craving to mate.
“That—that was inappropriate.” Her voice wobbled. “You know nothing about how we felt for each other. We transcended the physical to an emotional bond you’d be afraid to experience. A man like you believes in a quick roll in the hay, and a quicker retreat in the morning.”
He grinned. “Never quick, little one.”
She practically spit with fury. “Why do you call me that? Stop. I don’t like it.”
“Why not? I like it.” Arilyn jerked her folder open and dragged in a few of those deep breaths she counseled him on. “You mad?”
“No.”
“Good, ’cause I don’t think that breathing’s workin’ too good.”
Her dirty look made him want to laugh out loud. “If you’re done avoiding the real reason you’re here, I’ll begin. I know what you’re doing. Trying to distract me by talking about sex, so I get so rattled I’ll forget this session is about you. I’m not that dumb, Officer.”
“Never said you were. It’s just a more interesting topic.”
“Tell me a bit about the domestic scene you witnessed.”
Guess playtime was over. Stone resigned himself to a long, boring session of talking about feelings. Yuck. “I went inside the house when I heard screaming. Found the husband beating up the wife, with the little girl hanging on his leg. He kicked her to the wall and she went unconscious. Guess I snapped. Don’t remember much afterward until my partner Devine pulled me off.”
She scribbled some notes like a shrink. He imagined her naked and was less bored. “How did you feel when you realized what you did?”
The questions were textbook. He wondered why he felt disappointed in her techniques. “Pissed that I snapped. Happy that I beat the crap out of him.”
“Is the little girl okay?”
“Yeah. She’s in a shelter now. But who knows if the mother went back. Battered women usually do. They’re too afraid to leave sometimes. It’s all they know.”
She quirked a ginger brow and studied him. He made sure his face remained impassive. “You said your father beat you with a bat. Hurt your mother. How old were you?”
Stone shrugged. “Guess it started around five. Went till I was a teen.”
“Did it happen often? Did he beat you and your mother?”
He picked at a cuticle and tried not to groan. Ugh. He’d done the mandated therapy after the first incident, and even checked in on his own for a few sessions. It was too brutally inane to continue. Maybe if he seemed more emotional, she’d hurry things up? Show her he realized his issues and wanted to work on them. “Yeah. He liked to mix things up in the household. I’m sure when I went into that scene it was a trigger for all the times he hurt both of us. I’m more aware of my shortcomings now. I think I can handle incidents better in the future.”