Jeanne Adams - Dark and Deadly

“Oh, my God,” she mumbled. “That feels so, so…”

“What? Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“Hot, powerful. Sexy.”

“Oh, you’re all that, and more,” he managed to say, bringing her back to his mouth, forgetting everything in the turbulence of her kiss, in the feel of her body.

“I need to touch you, too,” she said, her hands restless now at his waist, tugging the belt free from its silver fittings, her fingers nipping the buttons open so fast he barely knew what she was doing. “Ohhhh.” She let the word vibrate against his lips, while her hands danced over his skin.

The involuntary shiver had him pulling her nearer, molding her to him, pressing her amazing ass to lock them more intimately together. Now it was his turn to gasp.

Here, finally, was Torie. Glorious, amazing, supple, and powerful.

He fumbled the buttons, but got them undone. He wanted to rip the shirt off, but restrained himself. He didn’t want to frighten her. Never again.

That nearly brought him up short, nearly had him pulling away from her to be sure.

She was having none of that. “No, no regrets,” she said, her fingers plunging into his hair, bringing his mouth back to hers. “Not this time.”

She was taking charge, and he was in heaven. She pushed his shirt away, and he popped the cuff buttons getting it off. He kicked off his loafers, and she stepped out of the pumps she’d put on.

She turned him as they undressed each other, and before he knew what she was about, they were at the bed.

“I’ve wanted to—” Paul began.

“Years—” she muttered.

“Years?” Really?

They fell to the mattress. He’d think about that years thing later. For now, he had to…

“Oh, sweet heaven.” He hardly managed the words as she shimmied down his body to take him into her mouth. “Don’t, I can’t take it.” He didn’t want to explode, even as he was dying to climax with her fabulous hands wrapped around him.

To prevent it, he lifted her up, capturing her mouth once again and rolling them both. Reality yanked at him for one brief moment.

“Protection, we’ve got to—”

“I’m protected. Come here,” she insisted, panting now and as eager and ready as he was. “I need you. Oh Paul, please, just—”

“This?” She answered him with a long, drawn-out growl of pleasure. “Oh yes, let me see you, Torie, let me taste you.” He kissed her mouth, her neck, everything within reach as they came together in one swift stroke.

He paused, quivering with the effort not to come, not to launch himself into her ready heat, not to let himself sink too deeply, too quickly.

She twisted her gorgeous body, pressing into him, and backing off. The friction of her curls, the wet power of her eager response was overwhelming.

“Slowly, Tor,” he managed. “Let me be there for you, too. Show me what you like.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him, shifting her hips to gather him more deeply in. “I like what you’re doing. Do it some more. Now. Please.”

He laughed and complied. Gently, with deliberate ease, he stroked her body, matched her arching hips with his own.

“Oh, Paul.” His name was drawn out, like a battle cry, and he felt her body tense. She twisted, pulling at his shoulders as her hips shot up, pinning him as she reached the peak of her orgasm.

The sight of her, the freedom of her response, the years of wanting all coalesced into a hot, flashing point of release.

It felt like a scream. Like an echoing shout of triumph across the misunderstandings and sharp rejections. It was a balm to all things in that brilliant moment.

Everything was hot. The long ache in his heart, and in his body, burst free. He felt as if he were exploding into nothingness as he braced himself above her, and into her and around her.

It was all about her.

Chapter Nine

“It’s all about her,” Paul said to Melvin Pratt Sr. “The whole thing surrounds Torie. Everything that’s happened to both Todd and Torie began when they called off their wedding.” He laid the neatly typed sheets on the desk in front of his boss and mentor. Martha had taken the two time lines and noted all the intersecting mishaps. There was definitely a pattern.

“So,” the older man began, leaning back in his chair and eyeing Paul. “You think there’s something more here? An attempt to frame her?”

“I do.”

“Interesting,” Pratt murmured as he looked at the list again. “Does she know how much you care about her?” he said without looking up from the paper.

Paul froze. He and Torie had been so late coming into the office that he had expected questions. They hadn’t talked about it. They’d dressed in the hazy, powerful aftermath, and driven in, each submerged in their own thoughts.

To his surprise, everyone assumed he’d taken her shopping to replace the items damaged in the previous day’s vandalism.

He wished he’d thought of that. She’d been incredibly quiet. She was, however, off shopping for replacements while he was talking to Pratt. He’d managed to get a second bodyguard to shadow her, but again, only for a short time frame. He had to find someone who could focus on it.

Just one more thing on the to-do list.

He realized Pratt was waiting for him to answer the question. His collar felt tight as he cleared his throat.

“I don’t think so, sir.” Hard as it was, he kept his tone level. Pratt obviously had him dead to rights, but there was no reason to give him more ammunition. He’d be stupid to argue that he felt nothing for her. His poker face wasn’t good enough, especially since he could still imagine her in his arms.

“You might want to keep it that way until she’s cleared of murdering her former fiancé.” He winked at Paul as he handed the list back to him. “I’m presuming you don’t think she did it.”

“She didn’t,” he said with conviction. Now that he knew about Bear, he knew she wouldn’t have had time to murder Todd and put him in the church. “Timing’s off, personality type doesn’t fit.”

“Because you don’t want it to? Or because you think the DNA swab they took this morning will clear her?”

Paul hesitated. He’d questioned that. A lot. Ever since he’d gotten the news. He’d been disconcerted to find a technician at the office, ready to swab Torie’s cheek the minute they walked in the door.

Pratt waved at a chair. “Before you answer that, take a seat.”

Paul sat. Waited while Pratt stared. It was a tactic he recognized, and he wasn’t going to fall for it.

The older man finally smiled. “So, no cat and mouse. Tell me your thoughts on this, Paul. And tell me why you haven’t told her how much Todd left her in his will.”

Clearing his throat, Paul began. “I haven’t told her because she is still a suspect. The inheritance just adds fuel to that fire.”

“Press hasn’t got wind of it, have they?”

“Not officially, but there’s gossip. One of the tabloids already has a reporter here. He’s been digging old pictures out of the society pages from back when…well, their engagement picture, and all that.”

“Hmmm. Yes. That’s unfortunate. That type can dig out a lot of information in too short a time span. I often wish they worked for us. Or for the police, rather than some rag of a grocery-store newspaper.”

“Good point. We could use those kind of research skills.”

“Indeed. So far she’s avoided the press, yes? When are you planning to tell her?”

“Yes, they’re focusing on the men, and on her office. As to when to tell her about the money, I don’t know. One of the things I need to ask you, though, as a point of law—can I represent her? Do I need to get Myra or—” a terrible thought crossed his mind—“You don’t want Melvin Jr. in on this, do you?”