"Maybe I can't handle it. But maybe you can't, either, McNeal. Maybe you're in this as deep as I am. Maybe we're both in so far over our heads that we don't know up from down." He stopped just short of touching her with his body. The restraint cost him, but he didn't let her know it. He desperately needed the upper hand, but knew with the certainty of a sailor watching his ship go down that he was about to lose that as well.
Never taking his eyes from hers, he reached for her hands and drew her to him. "I care about what happens to you, Erin. I didn't want to. I didn't want a lot of things to happen when it came to you. But they have. I'm not going to let you go after DiCarlo."
She was so close he could smell the warm, enticing scent of her, feel the heat coming off her, the electricity jumping from her body to his. Slowly, he eased her hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.
"Don't," she said breathlessly.
"Don't what? Worry about you? Don't care about you? Don't kiss you?"
He didn't miss her quick intake of breath. Her eyes widened when he took her fingertips into his mouth, and Nick knew then he wasn't the only one hanging on to control by a thread.
"Don't do something you're going to regret," she said.
"I already have." Reaching out, he trailed a finger down her throat, marveling at the silky feel of her flesh, wondering what it would be like to take the same track with his tongue.
She stared up at him, her cheeks suffused with color. "Funny, Nick, I never had you pegged as a risk taker."
"That's not the first time you've been wrong about me, is it?"
"I don't want to get in over my head."
"You already are." He smiled at her. "But you're not alone. But that's what risk is all about, isn't it?"
Her eyes darkened with the realization of what they both knew would happen next. "Why is it that getting any closer to you is the one risk that terrifies me?" she whispered.
"Maybe because we both know how good it's going to be. Maybe because we both know things won't ever be the same." He barely heard his own words over the drumming of his heart. Desire and a thousand other emotions he didn't want to deal with tangled inside him until he thought he would explode. He wanted her so badly he ached. He feared what it would do to him if he kissed her, if he totally lost his head and tried to seduce her.
Bracing his hands on either side of her, he leaned forward to kiss her. Just one kiss, he told himself, then they could sit down and discuss the problem like two adults. Cops, for Pete's sake. Nick would convince her to go with the nice U.S. Marshals. Erin would agree. The feds would bust DiCarlo. It would be over.
But the instant his lips touched hers, his tidy plans flew into disarray. The contact stunned him. The power of the kiss shook him to his foundation. The world shifted beneath his feet when she opened to him. He dug deep, plundering the velvet interior with his tongue. Marking her. Possessing her.
"I'm pretty new at this risk-taking stuff," he whispered. "Why don't you show me just how good it is?"
Her body went fluid against him, and Nick forgot about control. He was tired of fighting what he'd wanted since the moment he'd laid eyes on her.
Moving against her, he kissed her hard. Her mouth. Her throat. He trailed kisses lower, his tongue lashing her flesh, tasting, savoring. He smelled the sweet, exotic scent of her perfume tempered with the heady aroma of sweat from her recent workout. The combination drugged him. Urgency heated his blood, burning him until he couldn't bear it.
Reaching around her, he slipped the band from her hair and watched it tumble like fine silk over her shoulders. "I love your hair," he said. "I want to see it, feel it. I want to get lost in it."
His hands trembled uncontrollably as he tugged her T-shirt over her head. She hadn't worn a bra, and her breasts were small and exquisite. Her waist was so narrow he could almost span it with his hands.
Awed by the beauty before him, he stepped back just to look at her, speechless and utterly humbled. "You're incredibly beautiful, McNeal."
Her nipples hardened to dark peaks. Nick drank in the sight of her, felt the desire cut him. Bending, he lowered his mouth to her and suckled.
Erin cried out, her body writhing against him. "This… is… too much," she whispered.
Cupping her face with his hands, Nick kissed her, then pulled back to look at her. "This isn't enough," he countered. "I want more. A lot more."
"Nick, this is crazy-"
"Insane," he agreed, and kissed the sensitive area just below her ear. "Do you want me to stop?"
"Uh… maybe we could just… slow down and think about it for a while."
"I can't seem to think straight when I'm kissing you, McNeal. What do you suggest we do about that?"
"Maybe we could wait until we're finished kissing."
He laughed, realizing that whatever bond had drawn him to her had just tightened another notch. "We're going to finish it this time," he said.
She gazed at him, her green eyes sparking with uncertainty. "I'm afraid we're going to make things really complicated."
"They already are."
"Is that good or bad?"
"Catastrophic would be an understatement." Nick smiled anyway.
"I was afraid you were going to say that."
"I can't fight this any longer, Erin."
"Maybe we could stop fighting and just see what happens."
Never taking his eyes from hers, he slipped his fingers in the waistband of her jeans and worked them down until she was standing before him in nothing but her panties. Her legs were long and slender, with just the right amount of muscle definition. She was delicate and feminine and totally incongruous with anything cop.
He'd forgotten how beautiful a woman could be, and what that kind of beauty did to a man. His need for her was urgent and torturous, and for the first time in his life Nick refused to consider anything even remotely related to good judgment. He refused to consider the fact that he was about to venture beyond the point of no return.
Tentatively, she reached out and cupped him through his slacks. Setting his jaw, he moved against her, aware that the world had started to crumble beneath his feet. Fighting to slow his body, he stilled, trying to remember how he'd managed in the past. It had been so long since a woman had touched him. Since he'd even considered making love. He knew a moment of panic when he considered the possibility that it would all be over if he didn't slow things down.
Easing her hand to her side, he slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and eased them down her hips. His heart beat in an ever-increasing rhythm at the sight of her curls, dark against the pale flesh of her pelvis. He felt her hands at his zipper, but he didn't stop her this time. He didn't have that much control.
He kissed her languidly. Simultaneously, she tugged his slacks down his hips. Pulling away slightly, Nick fought off his shirt, then stepped out of his boxers. He kissed her neck, aware of his arousal nudging her belly, feeling every touch like a jolt of electricity.
Erin started toward the bed, but Nick swept her into his arms. Kissing her deeply, he crossed the room and lowered her to the mattress. She moved against him. The sensation of her flesh against his made him breathless and weak.
"It's been a long time for me," he murmured huskily.
"Me, too," she whispered. "Are you… okay with this?" He knew what she was asking and suddenly it was important to him that she know he wasn't still mourning his wife. "You're the first since Rita," he said. "But I'm okay. I've had enough time, Erin. I don't feel like I'm cheating on her or anything."
Her smile dazzled him. "I'm glad, Nick. However this turns out, whatever happens between us after tonight, I want you to know I'm incredibly glad we've had this time together."
Her words elicited a smile-and a lot more emotion than he wanted to admit. He wanted to say more, but something made him hold back. He wasn't sure where this would lead. There were still too many issues standing between them. The only thing he knew for certain was that he cared for her, and he wanted to make love to her more than he wanted his next breath.