His control snapped and he took her mouth roughly, too roughly. But she gave as good as she got, shoving her fingers into his hair and kissing him until he was afraid he’d come right there in her garage.
He reared back, breathing hard. ‘What do you need to do first?’
‘Walk the dog, take a shower.’
‘Then go. I’ll get my things and meet you inside. Where’s your bedroom?’
‘Second floor.’ She kissed him hard before pulling out of his arms and walking backward toward the door into the house. ‘It’s purple.’
He frowned. ‘What?’
‘My bedroom. It’s purple.’ She grinned. ‘You’ve been warned. I’ll hurry.’
‘Okay,’ he muttered, somehow managing to bend over far enough to gather up his gun and laptop and her jacket and shoulder holster. ‘Purple it is.’ He headed into the house and up the stairs, his pulse racing in anticipation even as he felt his shoulders lighten. Peace, he realized. This is peace.
Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday 4 August, 11.55 P.M.
Scarlett normally let Zat struggle up the stairs on his own, but tonight she was impatient. She could hear the shower running, and the thought of Marcus under that spray left her knees weak and her pulse thrumming hard. Everywhere. Scooping Zat into her arms, she ran up the stairs just as the shower shut off.
Holding her breath, she put the dog down gently and walked to the open bathroom door. ‘Oh.’ It was more a long sigh of appreciation than an actual word. She’d seen him shirtless. She’d seen all the important parts when they’d gone at it like horny weasels on her sofa that afternoon.
But not even her very imaginative daydreams had prepared her for the whole package of deliciousness that was Marcus O’Bannion naked and dripping wet. Broad shoulders bunched and flexed as he toweled the hair on his head, while droplets of water clung to the dark, crisp hair lightly furring across his chest, making her want to lick it all up. And then keep on licking downward. My God, the man was a fantasy in the flesh, and what flesh he had. Long and thick and hard. Remembering how it had felt inside her had her core muscles contracting so hard she shuddered. Soon. She’d feel him inside her again soon.
He finished toweling his hair and was dabbing at the bandage on his scalp from his run-in with Chip Anders’s splintered door when he saw her standing there, agape. His grin started slow, but spread to his whole face, his cheeks creasing in a way she hadn’t yet seen. He looked happy, she realized. And very relaxed. Except for his erection, which grew even larger and harder as she stared, bobbing to its own beat.
‘I didn’t use too much of your hot water,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know how big your tank was.’
Abruptly she closed her mouth and leaned against the door frame, trying for cool and knowing she was failing utterly. ‘It’s tankless. It heats the water as you need it. You can run it until you’re a giant prune and not run out.’
‘Good to know.’ He spread his arms wide, making her mouth water. ‘So then, come on in. The water’s warm.’
‘In a minute. I want to look. You are . . .’ She sighed again. ‘Just as I knew you’d be.’
‘You’re wearing too many clothes, Detective,’ he said lightly. She stepped back into her bedroom to strip, but he wagged his finger. ‘No, no. Stand there. It’s only fair.’
‘Just a minute.’ She took off the vest, placing her phone on the nightstand and her gun in the drawer. She considered not checking her messages, but knew she had to. Thankfully there were none. They had a momentary lull and she was taking advantage of it.
She returned to the doorway to peel her shirt over her head, revealing the bra she’d put on after her morning shower. She’d chosen it thinking about the way he’d look at her when he saw it. Pink and lacy, it was one of her very favorites.
His grin faded, his expression becoming the same one that had made her kiss him up against that SUV. ‘Come here,’ he said quietly, and she walked to the open shower door while her legs shook like jelly. He ran his finger under the scalloped lace edge of the bra, teasing her. Tempting her. ‘So damn pretty.’ He met her eyes. ‘I like it. Take it off before I tear it off.’
It was a front clasp, and he groaned when she popped it open. ‘That’s all I had to do?’
She laughed and let it fall to the floor, gratified at his sharp intake of breath.
‘My God,’ he whispered, then stole her breath by taking a breast in each hand reverently, measuring their weight. He kissed the slope of each one, then dropped his hands to his sides, clenching them into fists. ‘Keep going, but hurry. You’re killing me here.’
She didn’t comply, taking her time in pulling out all the pins that held her braid in place. He watched silently, his eyes missing not a single movement as she removed the last pin, her braid falling to the middle of her back as she dumped the pins in a pile on the vanity. She started to loosen the braid, but he stopped her.
‘Let me,’ he said quietly. He began untangling her hair and running his fingers through it. ‘I’ve wanted to do this since the first time I saw you. I’ve fantasized about your hair spread all over my pillow.’ He smiled. ‘Spread all over me.’
Her arousal growing exponentially now, she kicked off her shoes and pushed her slacks to the floor, leaving her clad only in her matching pink lace panties, along with socks and an ankle holster.
His chest expanded as he inhaled. ‘Very nice,’ he said gruffly. ‘The ankle holster is hot. Makes you look very badass.’
‘I think the pink lace cancels any badass-itude,’ she said, hooking her pinkie in the string that held the front and back triangles together.
‘It’s a synergistic effect. Trust me on this. Are your panties wet?’
She drew a deep breath. ‘If they hadn’t been already, they would be now. But they’ve been wet every time I’ve been around you today.’ She dropped to one knee to take off the ankle holster, then came to her feet. ‘I’ll be right back.’
‘Hurry.’
She obeyed, quickly putting the backup gun next to her service weapon in the nightstand drawer, but when she returned, Marcus was leaning back against the shower wall, slowly stroking himself.
Scarlett couldn’t have looked away if someone had threatened to shoot her on the spot. ‘You started without me.’
His dark brows lifted, making him look like a smug Greek god. ‘I told you to hurry.’
Yanking off the socks, she shimmied out of the panties and kicked them aside. She joined him in the shower, closed the door and turned on the spray.
He pulled her under the water, playing with her hair as it grew soaking wet. He squirted shampoo into his hands and began to wash her hair, strong, long strokes on her scalp. She moaned and leaned her back against his front, letting him drive some of the tension from her shoulders and neck even as he built a sweeter tension between her legs.
‘You have a lot of hair, Detective,’ he said, his mouth next to her ear. His soapy hand slid down the front of her body, lightly caressing one breast before darting between her thighs, one wicked finger delving deep into the part of her that had already been wet for him. Her gasp made him chuckle. ‘This could take a while.’
She wasn’t sure if he meant the washing of her hair or the slow stroking he was doing with that finger of his. She didn’t care. Didn’t think. Just leaned into him and savored the contact after so many months alone. He wasn’t rushed, didn’t hurry. He just stroked her, languidly working her into a delicious froth until she began thrusting against him, urging him to go faster. Harder.
She protested when he withdrew the finger, using both his hands to rinse the shampoo from her hair, then casually sniffing the various bottles of body wash in the caddy hanging from the shower, as if they had all the time in the world. ‘Marcus,’ she said, her voice husky. ‘Hurry.’
‘This is the one I like,’ he announced, picking the honeysuckle-scented body wash and pouring it into his hand. He washed her thoroughly, torturing her with touches that were far too light and far too fast, chuckling when she cursed him.