Kate Hoffmann - Conor

Her pale hair fanned out on the pillow and Conor ran his fingers through it, liquid and silken to his touch. She moaned softly and wrapped her arms around his neck, then teased at his bottom lip with her tongue. He sensed that her need for him was as acute as his was for her. And though he could spend the entire night just kissing her, the urge to explore her perfect body was just as overwhelming.

Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, a little voice-his cop voice-told him that spending the night in the same bed broke all the rules. And making love to her could end his career. “Why do you taste so damn good?” he murmured. “I want to stop but I can’t.”

She sighed softly, her fingers skimming over his face. “There are rules,” Olivia whispered, “against this…” Her tongue teased at his nipple. She trailed lower, nipping and biting, and driving him mad with need. “And against this…” she said, her fingers splaying across his belly, causing a flood of heat to rush to his lap.

He’d already decided that when it came to this case, the rules didn’t apply anymore. Someone in the department had nearly gotten them both killed. The police were supposed to be the good guys. Those were the rules. If they couldn’t follow them, then he wouldn’t either. “From now on, we make up our own rules,” he said. “And rule number one is that there will be no more rules.”

A playful smile quirked the corners of her mouth. “I like that rule.”

He laughed softly, then captured her mouth with his again. He’d never have guessed that behind her cool, sophisticated facade lurked an uninhibited temptress. Conor turned to pull her nearer, but the shift in his weight caused a sharp pain in his side, deep enough to steal his breath. He cursed softly. “This is not going to work,” he said. “I can barely move.”

“Then don’t,” Olivia said, straddling his hips and bracing her hands on either side of his head. “Rule number two. You must stay perfectly still.”

Her hair created a curtain around them and she dropped a kiss on his mouth and then another and another, dancing away when he tried to take more. When she straightened, Conor reached out and slipped his fingers beneath the hem of her sweater. He spanned her slender waist with his hands and reveled in the beauty and delicacy of her body.

She was made for his hands, every curve a perfect fit against his palms. Though he’d never touched her this way before, it was as if he knew her by instinct. Yet that didn’t stop him from wanting to explore and memorize every inch of her skin.

With other women, it had been all about him and his needs, the undeniable rush toward satisfaction. Maybe it was the way he and Olivia had begun, his focus on protecting her. Suddenly, he wanted to make her ache for him the way he ached for her. He needed to see the desire grow in her eyes and feel it in her hands, until nothing could stop them from the inevitable.

Conor slid his hands along her rib cage until he found the soft curves beneath her breasts. The silky fabric of her camisole beneath his palms enhanced every warm inch of her flesh. As if taking a cue from him, Olivia reached for the buttons of her sweater and slowly undid them. When she was finished, he reached up and skimmed the sweater off her shoulders and down along her arms.

He’d chided her for her underwear obsession at the motel, but now he understood. The lace edging of her camisole offered a tempting view of the cleft between her breasts and the silk clung to her body like a second skin, outlining the peaks of her nipples.

With her eyes fixed on his, her gaze challenging him to make her stop, Olivia reached for the hem of her camisole and pulled it up over her head, then shook her hair until it tumbled around her shoulders. Conor’s breath caught in his throat. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, her skin luminous in the soft light. He knew at that moment that he wanted her, more than anything he’d ever wanted in his life. But he schooled his need and promised himself that he’d go slow.

His reached up and cupped a breast in his palm, teasing at her nipple with his thumb. What bit of luck had brought her into his life? What had he done to deserve her? Whatever it was, Conor wasn’t about to question his good fortune. He’d simply enjoy it while it lasted. Never in a million years could he hope that Olivia would want a future with him.

But he did know one thing. He was fast falling in love with Olivia Farrell, with her beautiful eyes and her incredible body, with her stubbornness and with her vulnerability. With the way she made him shiver with anticipation. He slipped his hand beneath the hair at the nape of her neck and slowly drew her back to him, covering her mouth with his. The blood rushed hot through his veins and his pain was forgotten as he rolled her over beneath him.

His mouth ached to taste her, his fingers craved the feel of her skin. Slowly, Conor explored her body with both, gently arousing her desire then letting it ebb. He wanted this to last as long as it possibly could, for Conor wasn’t sure they’d have this chance again. But the more he touched her, the more irresistible she became.

Conor wasn’t sure at what moment they reached the point of no return. Perhaps it was when she stood beside the berth and slipped out of her jeans. Or maybe it was when he cast aside his boxers. But by the time she’d retrieved a condom from Brendan’s bedside table and slipped it over his hard shaft, he was certain he was lost.

She straddled his hips, then slowly sank down, taking all of him, to the hilt. For a long moment, Olivia didn’t move, her eyes closed, her head tipped back. Conor’s jaw went tight as the sight of her alone almost brought him to his peak and he realized that he’d relinquished all control. She was the seducer and he was the seduced.

As if caught in a dream, Olivia started to move above him, rocking slowly at first and then increasing her rhythm. It took all his willpower to wait, to tease and touch, to grasp her waist and slow her movement, until she was ready to join him. He waited for the signs, the soft sighs, the shallow gasps of breath that marked each thrust, the subtle tensing of her body.

And when she was ready, he touched her once more, at the spot where they were joined. She stilled, and then he felt her tighten around him in an exquisite spasm. She murmured his name, once, and then again, and then Conor let himself go, arching into her.

Waves of sensation shattered them both, leaving them breathless, a sheen of perspiration the only thing separating skin from skin. And when it was over and they’d both drifted back from the edges of passion, she curled up in his arms and closed her eyes.

He knew this time it had been different. They’d shared something that he’d never shared with a woman before, an intimacy so deep and stirring that it caused his heart to beat more strongly and his mind to sharpen. She’d broken through a barrier and touched his heart and, in that instant, he knew what it would be like to love a woman, so deeply that it defied reason.

Conor closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but he was afraid that when he woke up, she’d have slipped away in the night, like a dream. He turned his face into her hair and inhaled the scent, then ran his hand along her thigh. She was real and the pleasure they’d shared was real.

He didn’t want to let her go. Not now. Not ever.

OLIVIA WOKE sometime in the early morning hours, confused at first by her surroundings. Then she heard Conor’s soft, even breathing and the tiny edge of fear dissolved. She was safe, wrapped in his arms. For a long time, she watched his naked chest rising and falling, slowly, steadily. The lines of tension that had bracketed his mouth and eyes were finally gone and she gently smoothed her fingers over his face as if to erase the last traces of pain.