Jill Shalvis - The Detective’s Undoing

“That’s not what I meant.” She lifted her lashes and looked at him with all her yearning. She wasn’t sure she had the look right. She’d never seduced a man before, but given the way his eyes widened, the way his mouth opened as if he had to do that simply to breathe, she thought maybe she’d come close. To be sure, she moved nearer, brushing her hips against his.

A groan escaped him and he tried to pull back. “Delia…” he said unsteadily.

“Make love with me, Cade.”

He stared at her as if his mind had gone completely blank. Another sound escaped him, darker, thrilling.

“Is that a yes or no?” she asked, as if her heart wasn’t in her throat, as if her body wasn’t tingling in anticipation.

He framed her face with his hands, his mouth close enough to kiss hers, but he didn’t. Instead, he searched her gaze. “What’s going on, Delia?”

It annoyed her that desire had sharp claws, and that they were still digging into her so that she felt raw with this need for him, especially when he obviously didn’t feel the same need for her. “What’s going on is, I was obviously mistaken about your wanting me.”

“You weren’t wrong,” he said roughly, even as his fingers drew soft little circles on her skin. “I want you so much I can’t even think straight. But…why? Why now?”

“I’ve always wanted you. I was afraid, though.”

“Of me?”

He looked so horrified, she had to smile. “Of me. Of how you make me feel. Jittery. Hot. Cold. Kiss me, Cade.”

“Kiss me back,” he whispered, and brought his mouth down on hers.

It was perfect. She poured everything she had into the kiss, all the longing, all the pent-up regret, all her…yes, dammit, all her love. She loved him, and the knowledge made her tremble.

He pulled back, skimmed his fingertips over her jaw. “You’re shaking. I don’t think-”

“Good. Don’t think,” she said, pulling him back down for another kiss. How to keep his attention? she wondered frantically. She knew the technicality of the whole thing, of this whole seduction, but she wasn’t sure how to actually accomplish it. In her dreams, it hadn’t seemed so difficult. She closed her eyes, drew a deep breath, stepped back and pulled her sweater over her head, which left her standing there in her pastel-yellow bra. Without waiting to see his reaction, she quickly pulled his head down to hers again and kissed him with far more eagerness than finesse.

For one eternally long moment, he hesitated, then with a small moan, pulled her close and kissed her once, then again from a different angle, then another, while he ran his hands down her back to her bottom and buried his face in her hair.

“What’s under the skirt?” he asked hoarsely.

“Just…panties.”

With characteristic boldness, he slid his hands down the backs of her legs, then up beneath the skirt, making her gasp.

“Stop?” he asked.

“No. Don’t stop.”

He shifted, his hands sliding up her ribs to capture her breasts, gliding over the bra, then opening the front clasp to expose her completely. Breathing hard, he drew back to look at her, his half-closed eyes glittering with passion. Her denim skirt had buttons down the front, and slowly, one by one, his sure fingers dispensed with them, until the material fell away. “Delia.” His voice sounded awed, rough. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Now you,” she murmured, pulling his shirt over his head, revealing tough sinew and rugged strength. She set her hands on his chest, sliding them back and forth over his hot skin, marveling at his body. Her insides were quivering. So were her knees, and she clutched at him until he scooped her up and lay her on the bed. His hands went to his pants as he stared down at her. When he shoved them down, she caught her breath, because he was the beautiful one, all molded and sculpted, and hard, very very hard.

He took out a condom and put it on while she watched with utter fascination. Then he was crawling onto the bed and covering her body with his, and thinking became next to impossible.

More so when he ran his hands over her, almost reverently, missing nothing, not her breasts, her stomach or the throbbing aching flesh between her legs. “This isn’t a dream, right?” he whispered, his voice harsh with need. “I’m not going to wake up and find you gone, am I?”

Apparently he didn’t require an answer because in the next split second, his mouth took hers. Over and over again his tongue and lips teased and tempted, while those clever hands stroked and tormented. “So sweet,” he murmured, dipping to taste the hollow of her throat, the sensitive skin of her neck, the line of her collarbone. His touch had her writhing helplessly, seized with an unbearable tension. Swept along on the tide of pleasure, riding the wave of madness that had seized her body, she could do little more than strain toward him, letting out little panting whimpers.

“That’s it,” he whispered against her skin. “Come for me.”

She couldn’t have held back if she’d wanted, and arching against the bed, she exploded, shuddering endlessly, gasping for breath. When she could see and hear again, she lay there, staring up at the ceiling. “Holy cow.”

His laugh was low and sexy. And strained, which made her lift her head and look at him. His eyes were fierce as he rose above her, braced himself and entered her.

Or tried to. At her tightness, he frowned, then pulled back a little and thrust again gently. The sensation of him starting to fill her was the most incredible thing she’d ever felt, and though he was barely inside her, she felt her body start to quiver again. “More,” she cried, clutching at him, arching her hips to give him better access.

“I’m trying, but…” Something continued to block him, and he started to withdraw. At the threatened loss of his delicious weight, which was snatching back the promise of another explosive orgasm, Delia snagged his hips in her hands and yanked him toward her, which caused him to sink fully within her.

“There,” she breathed. “Oh…there…”

Cade’s heart nearly burst.

Her first. He was her first lover. He was all the way inside her now. Home. At the realization, his control broke instantly, and with a strangled groan, he gathered her hair in his fists, tipped her face up so he could meet her gaze and then thrust into her again, alive for the first time in eight years.

One stroke and he nearly came. Two strokes and she did, again, which triggered his own, an endless ripple of searing hot pleasure. Finally, finally, it eased, and he sank to his side, bringing her with him.

He had questions, a million of them, but primarily how could she have reached the age of twenty-six, looking as she did, and still be a virgin? But exhaustion claimed him, as it already had her, and holding her close in his arms, he let his eyes drift shut.

In the moment before he fell asleep, it came to him.

She’d never trusted a man before. Until him. His heart ached at that thought, but though he’d taken her virginity, he knew that the battle for her heart wasn’t over yet.

The courthouse was a beautiful brick-and-glass building, surrounded by lush greenery. An oasis in the middle of a teeming bustling city, but Delia saw none of it.

Her palms were damp, and her heart thudded dully in anticipation. Even with Cade’s hand locked securely in hers, she could hardly remember how to walk. “What if-”

“You’ll get him,” Cade said, his voice still husky from sleep.

Just listening to it made Delia want to blush. She’d never felt like this, all hot and itchy and unsettled, and even more unnerving was the knowledge that it wasn’t an entirely bad feeling.