Linda Castillo - Cops and…Lovers?

He cocked his head, his eyes darkening as his gaze racked over her. "If you want to keep your sanity, you keep your control no matter what."

Erin sensed they were no longer talking in generalities, but about the spark that threatened to burst into flames every time he looked at her, every time he spoke her name, every time he touched her.

"Maybe control isn't everything it's cracked up to be," she whispered.

Nick looked alarmed for an instant, then his mouth curved into an amused half smile. "I think those painkillers gave you a loose tongue, McNeal."

Embarrassment washed over her. She wasn't sure why she'd said it, but she didn't think it was the medication. Maybe because she wanted to deal with whatever was happening between them. Tonight seemed to be the night for clearing the air. The problem was she didn't think either of them were thinking about clearing the air at the moment. There were too many emotions. Too many ghosts. Too many sensations coming all at once, and she was as overloaded as a circuit breaker in an electrical storm.

"The doctor gave me a mild muscle relaxant, and for your information my head's as clear as a bell," she said.

"Well, that's a relief. I wouldn't want to take advantage of you if you were mentally incapacitated."

The words sent a nervous laugh tumbling out of her when she realized that was exactly how she felt every time she was with him. Mentally incapacitated-and bound and determined to make a mistake that would cost her greatly.

"You're eyes are dilated," he whispered.

"I don't think that's because of the muscle relaxers, either." Raising her hand, she touched his jaw with her fingertips.

He winced at the contact, his gaze darkening, intensifying. "Ah, McNeal, I should have known you liked to play with fire."

"Is that what I'm doing?"

"That's exactly what you're doing, and we're both loony to be even considering it. I don't think either of us needs to get burned." Intertwining their fingers, he slowly lowered her hand, then released her. "I'd better go before we both become pyromaniacs."

"Or risk spontaneous combustion," she whispered, but her words held no conviction. Maybe because the thought of that kind of heat intrigued her more than it should have. Maybe because she wasn't sure what she wanted. The only thing she knew for certain was that his touch was electric, and her body was conducting that electricity to every pleasure center in her brain.

Logic told her to get up and see him to the door. He was right. But they weren't just playing with fire; they were playing with a stick of dynamite with a short fuse that would leave them both in pieces if it exploded. Nothing but heartache would come from any of this.

But when his gaze met hers, she knew the race was done. She had no idea who'd won or lost. Oddly, she no longer cared. The only thing that mattered now were the short, dangerous inched separating them, and who was going to bridge the gap.

Leaning closer, Nick drew her to him with slow, agonizing deliberation. Erin let herself be guided, anticipation and dread locked in mortal combat. His lips touched hers with devastating gentleness. A warning blasted in her brain even as need twisted inside her. Then his mouth was warm and firm against hers as he coaxed her into submission.

He's in love with a memory.

The warning faded beneath the onslaught of pleasure. When he probed her mouth with his tongue, she opened, wanting more. Growling low in his throat, he went in deep, tasting her, devouring the last of her restraint.

Sensation assaulted every inch of her body. Erin felt lost. Afloat in a tiny raft in the midst of a raging sea. On more emotion, one more sensation, and she would be flung over the side, never to be found. But the dark, mysterious depths beckoned her, and she was helpless to resist, like a sea-weary sailor lured by a siren onto treacherous rocks that would send his hip to the bottom of the sea.

Nick cupped her face. Angling her head, he kissed her deeply, possessively. Erin reached for him, her arms encircling his neck. Her hand swept down the length of his back, feeling hard-as-steel muscle quivering with restraint.

"This isn't a very good idea," he murmured. "But you're so damn irresistible."

His voice barely reached her through the roar of blood in her ears. Before her befuddled brain could register a reply, his mouth swooped down again. He kissed her with ruthless skill until she was shaking and weak with desire. Never taking his mouth from hers, he lifted her, easing her more fully onto the sofa. Erin leaned back into the pillows, her every sense honed as he came down on top of her.

A gasp escaped her when he lay full length against her. Bracing himself with his arms to keep his weight from crushing her, he deepened the kiss, ravaging her mouth. She opened to him, her tongue warring with his. Lust rippled low in her belly when she felt his hardness against her hip. Heat spiked lower, burning her until she thought she could no longer bear it. Instinct took over. She opened her legs. He moved in, arching against her. Her body reacted with dizzying intensity. Her control fled. She felt intoxicated, as if she were high on some powerful drug she would never get enough of.

A thousand reasons why she shouldn't make love to this man stormed her brain. He was everything she didn't want. Too strong. Too protective. He couldn't handle her being a cop. He only wanted sex, not a real, lasting relationship. But for Pete's sake, she wanted sex. Anything to staunch the fire that threatened to burn out of control.

Erin knew better than to give in to desire, but the need in her heart and the heat in her body destroyed the voice of reason. She relinquished control, felt it tumble away, and gave her body over to the flames.

Nick had forgotten just how powerful lust could be. And he knew what he was feeling for Erin McNeal was only lust. Simple, uncomplicated, no-strings-attached lust. He was a red-blooded American male who'd been celibate for too long. Of course he wanted her. She was attractive. They were both just tired of fighting it. That was all this was about.

If that was the case, a little voice asked, why did all the other emotions banging around inside him scare the living daylights out of him? Why did he lose sleep thinking about her? Worrying about her? Caring about her, for God's sake? Why did the knowledge that he couldn't keep her safe terrify him so?

Shoving the thoughts ruthlessly aside, he deepened the kiss, exploring the wet silkiness of her mouth. She felt incredibly good beneath him. Pliant. Warm. So soft he ached with the need to feel her bare flesh beneath his hands. The need sent his fingers to the buttons of her uniform shirt. His hands shook so badly he couldn't manage them. Frustration poured through him.

"Let me," she whispered, and began working the buttons.

Her shirt parted, and a lacy white bra came into view. He cupped her breasts, found them small and utterly exquisite.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, and brushed his thumb over the hardened peaks of her nipples.

Erin cried out, her body bucking beneath him. Nick clenched his jaw, struggling to keep a grip on control. He wanted to take his time with her. He wasn't a fast lover. Had never been that way. But nothing was the same with this woman. She drove him too close to the edge, too quickly. He wasn't even undressed yet and already felt on the verge of ending what promised to be one of the most erotic experiences of his life.

Lifting the edge of her bra, he eased it up and over her breasts. Urgency burned him. Nick broke the kiss. He wanted to taste her. Wanted her flesh in his mouth. Her body writhing beneath him.

She nearly came up off the sofa when his mouth closed around her nipple. She arched and cried out his name. He suckled, but the intimate contact wasn't enough. He wanted more. Wanted to be inside her. Needed her more than the very air he breathed.