J. Robb: Innocent In Death

“You’ll have to pay for that.”

“Try to make me.”

He hooked a hand in the collar of her shirt, tore it down the front. On a chain under it, she wore the diamond and the saint’s medal he’d given her. The arms of the shirt hung on her weapon harness.

“Bloody cop,” he muttered, hitting the release.

“Bloody criminal.”

“Former, and no convictions.” He pressed his mouth to hers, swore at the burn in his wounded lip. “You pack a punch, Lieutenant.” He reared up enough to look down at her face-brown eyes full of challenge, wide mouth curved in a smug smile. “You’re my goddamn Valentine.”

She laughed, grabbed two fistfuls of his hair. “You’d better believe it, buster.”

She wanted to devour him, one greedy bite at a time, and let her nails dig a little into his back once she’d torn the tattered shirt away. She’d seen more than annoyance on his face when Magdelana had clung to him.

Eve had seen what she might have missed if she and Roarke had been stupid enough, crazy enough, blind enough to pass each other by.

“I love you.” She closed her teeth over his shoulder, gasped when his scraped down her throat. She hooked her legs around his waist, shoved so that he was under her again. With her mouth like a fever on his, on his flesh.

So it wouldn’t be romantic and dreamy, a snowfall outside the window and gypsy violins singing in the air. It would be desperate, and a little rough. And as real and urgent as their heartbeats.

He felt his survival depended on the taste and texture of her skin. He pulled and dragged at her clothes like a man possessed by demons.

“You’ll give me all of you. All.”

“Take it,” she told him, and was under him again. His mouth ravaged her breast, and his hands…his hands, his hands.

She cried out, rocketing up as the orgasm gathered and flashed through her like a ball of lightning. She heard him murmuring to her, the sound thick and Irish. Felt him quiver as he held himself back.

And that she wouldn’t allow. “You’ll give me all of you,” she said. “All.”

She shattered his will, undid his control, her hands and lips taking him as he’d taken her. Beyond what was reason. Near to delirium, he dragged her mouth back to his, and devoured.

Lips and teeth and tongues, fingers that demanded and took, bruises be damned. Her breath was burning even as she took from him, gave to him. His blood burned under his own skin.

“Now, now, now.” She chanted it, arching up.

When he drove into her, she cried out again, the sound close to a scream. And still her hips pumped fast and strong, whipping him into the glorious dark.

Her hands lost their grip on his hips, slid away to thump against the floor. Inside her body, everything had been pummeled, twisted, wrung out, then smoothed soft again. Her toes wanted to curl in pleasure, but there wasn’t enough energy left for the movement.

“Jesus,” she managed. “Holy dancing Jesus.”

“When I can actually stand up again, some time in the distant future, I’m going to let you punch me in the face again, so we can see if all that finishes up the same way as this.”

“Okay.”

“Or maybe we’ll try that romantic dinner. Then you can punch me.” He actually felt her wince. “Problem?” He lifted his head, saw by her face there was. “What?”

“I’m really sorry.”

“I think, considering our current positions, and state of being, apologies are unnecessary.” But he read the look. “Not sorry for the punch, I see. It’s work?”

“I didn’t contact you to tell you to hold dinner, because I wanted to tell you face-to-face. Which we now are, in addition to other body parts. It’s a lot to explain, but I will. I’ve got something I need to deal with, and I could use your help with it.”

“All right.”

“Maybe we could fit in the candlelight and so on before midnight, but-”

“It doesn’t matter, Eve. I promise you.”

Yeah, we got lucky, she thought. God, didn’t they just. “I got you a present.”

“Did you?”

“It’s a book of poetry-romancy stuff. I thought, ‘How schmaltzy is that,’ so it seemed like the thing. Then I screwed up and left it in my desk at work.”

He smiled, leaned down to kiss her softly. “Thank you.”

She touched his cheek. “I’ve got to grab a shower and get to this. I planned to dig straight in, so we could maybe have a really late dinner, but then I had to punch you and your blonde tart, and one thing led to another.”

“Of course. Well, we’ll have a shower and you can fill me in.”

He listened, saying little as she ran it through for him. “So,” he said, as she pulled on loose flannel pants and a sweatshirt. “You were right about the girl.”

“That’s no girl, but yeah, I was right. The diary’s going to be one of the nails. I could have it cut open-the box, it’s in-”

“I can promise that’s not necessary.”

“Let’s take it in my office.” She hauled up a field bag. “I want it all on record. So maybe you could fumble just a little with the lock.”

“I certainly will not.”

“Okay, okay.”

“I’d like to explain what Magdelana was doing here.”

She slanted him a look. “Other than trying to lock lips with you?”

“More specifically,” he said carefully as they started out of the bedroom, “why I allowed her in our home.”

“I already got that. You needed to deal with it, with her. Needed to spell it out for her, give her the get lost, and put some of the fear of Roarke in her.”

“How fortunate I am, under the circumstances, to have a woman who understands me. Fear of Roarke?” he repeated.

“You can do the fear of God thing, but see, you can’t see Him, and most people feel He’s not going to really-what is it-smite them. You, however, are flesh and blood, and would do a lot worse than a smite. You’re a lot scarier than God.”

“I don’t know quite how to take that,” he said after a moment. “But meanwhile, do you want to know how this was handled?”

“Yeah, actually, I would.”

He told her while they made their way to her office, while she set down her bag, took out the diary. While she simply stood, staring at him.

“See? See? Holy crap. God wouldn’t have made her insides quiver like that, and you can bet your fine Irish ass they quivered like jelly. Can you really ban her from all your stuff? That’s like eighty percent of the known universe.”

“You exaggerate, it wouldn’t be more than fifty, and, oh, aye.” His grin was fast and fierce. “I bloody well can.”

“And you’ve got data on her that would interest the international authorities?”

“What do you take me for? Of course I do.” He waited a moment, reading her face perfectly. “I’m not giving it to you, Eve. Two reasons.”

“They’d better be good ones.”

“First, it’s not your concern, and don’t even think about raising that fist to me. This is my doing, her coming here, her causing trouble. Second, it’ll keep her up at night, for some time to come, wondering what I have, and what I might do with it. She’ll be looking over her shoulder a long time.”

“I think your first reason’s crap, but the second is really mean, really insidious. I like it a lot, so we’ll call it a wash.”

“Good. Well, I’ll open that for you, shall I, and we’ll have our Valentine’s dinner while we see what’s inside.”

“Um…”

“It’s pizza. It was to be pizza and champagne actually.”

“Seriously?”

“I know my wife as she knows me.” He tapped a finger on her nose. “So it’ll be pepperoni pizza and coffee-with the champagne for another time.”

“You know, you really are my Valentine.”