She wanted him. He"d have her. Another shudder shook him. God. It hurt, he wanted her so much. He drew the chain from around his neck and held it up, the ring at the end shining softly. He'd worn the ring on his hand for the five happiest years of his life, then another two as he grieved. It was only at the worried insistence of his family that he'd finally taken it off, but it hadn't gone far. He'd worn it on a chain around his neck ever since. Knowing it was there was like keeping a little piece of Christine to himself. Just like Christine's poetry, it kept her alive in his heart. But tonight it wasn't dreams of Christine that crowded his mind. Mia was there, firmly entrenched. She'd stay there until he'd ridden this thing out, wherever it took them. Whatever it cost.
He set the ring swinging, like a hypnotist's coin. He could go over there right now. And have her. The blood was pounding in his head, drowning out all the reasons he shouldn't. He lowered the ring until it hit the nightstand and let the chain pool inside it.
He picked up the phone, hit Lauren's speed dial. "I need you to stay with Beth."
She yawned. "Give me two minutes. I'll be there."
He hung up, guilt for the deception eclipsed by a need that left him trembling. She'd wanted him, even though she hadn't wanted to. He'd find out why.
Wednesday, November 29, 11:50 p.m.
Mia blinked. She'd read that name before. Her eyes were tired. It was time to stop.
She sat back in the hard chair and twisted, stretching her neck muscles. She'd made it through a month of Burnette's case files, specifically the month before Manny Rodriguez was sent to Hope Center. She'd carefully catalogued every name, every place mentioned on every case Burnette had supervised or been associated with.
It was a nasty list. She didn't envy Burnette his Vice clientele. But other than being a nasty list, there was nothing useful or unusual about it. Not a single name or place popped. It was a tedious task, and she still had tons of paper to wade through.
But, as tedious tasks went, it had been a halfway decent way of pushing Reed Solliday and his intriguing mouth to the back of her mind. Well, not the back of her mind, really. More like… dead center. Front row. Hell.
She'd kissed him. And now she knew how he tasted. How his lips felt against hers. How it felt to press against that solid wall of muscle he called a chest. And now, having tasted him, she wanted to taste him again. She wanted it a very great deal.
Goddamn hamburger. She blamed Dana for this. She'd been happily miserable until she'd started craving hamburger. So what would happen when Solliday wanted to go upscale? Move from hamburger to filet? She'd get her heart broken, that's what.
And maybe break his, too. It was a sobering thought. But not enough to squelch the craving. She didn't just want to kiss him. Now that she'd taken the plunge… well, if he walked in this minute, he'd be a very happy man. At least for the short term. She was fairly good at sex, Mia knew. Sex itself had never been the problem. Intimacy was.
She stood up, stretched her back again. She was still sore from Solliday's tackle last night but she wasn't sleepy. There was too much caffeine in her system for her to sleep. So now she would lie in bed, stare at the ceiling, and wish she was getting laid.
Damn that Dana. She probably was getting laid, right this minute. It wasn't fair.
She paced restlessly, wondering if Solliday was sleeping. She certainly hoped not. She hoped he was-
A heavy knock at her door made her jump. Cautiously she drew her weapon from the shoulder holster she'd draped over a chair. Holding the gun down at her side, she stood on her toes and peeked through the peep hole in the door.
She huffed out a relieved breath. She opened the door to Reed Solliday, who stood on her welcome mat wearing a forbidding frown. "You scared me to death," she said, bypassing any greeting, then got worried. It was almost midnight. "What's happened?"
"Can I come in?"
Immediately she stepped aside and let him in. He stalked in, his stride almost belligerent. She closed the door and leaned against it. "What's happened?"
He took off his trenchcoat and dropped it on her sofa. He'd shed his suit coat and tie at some point. His shirt was unbuttoned so that a glimpse of coarse dark hair teased. Her heart started a slow pounding in her chest. The pounding got harder when he took the gun from her hand and returned it to her holster. And when he approached her with a hard, predatory cast to his face, the pounding spread low. And deep.
Not taking his eyes from hers he flattened his palms against the door on either side of her head. She was caged in. but there was no fear. Only excitement and the dark thrill of arousal. When he lowered his head and took her mouth it was savage and greedy and left no doubt as to why he'd come back. She let herself be swept away. Just his mouth on hers. She moaned and he jerked his head back. She stood, eyes closed, the door bearing her weight. His breath beat her hair and knew if she lifted her hand to his heart, she'd feel it thunder against her palm.
"I couldn't sleep," he whispered harshly. "I could only think of you. Under me. I have to have you. But if that's not what you want, tell me now and I'll leave."
Her heart physically hurt. Her body was throbbing. He was what she wanted. This was what she needed. Now. "Don't go." She lifted her eyes to his. Then lifted her hands to his face and pulled him down for another bruising kiss that made her knees go weak. He ran his hands down her sides, over her breasts, shaping and reshaping. Flicking his thumbs across her nipples and she shivered. Violently.
It had been too long since she'd had a man's hands on her. Too long since she'd had her hands on a man. She reached for his shirt and pulled at the buttons, yanking at the fabric until she pulled it free. For a full minute she ran her hands over yards of muscle, then raked her fingers through the course hair that covered his chest.
With a muttered curse he grabbed her rear end and lifted her off her feet until their bodies aligned and supporting her weight, thrust against her. He was hard and hot and just where she needed him to be.
No, not exactly where she needed him to be. Not yet. His mouth left hers and kissed a path down the side of her neck.
The hard ridge no longer throbbed against her as he lifted her higher, pulling her legs around his waist.
She opened her mouth to protest, when his mouth closed over her breast and sucked. Hard. She cried out, the protest disintegrating to a moan. She threaded her fingers through his hair and held him there, suckling. He pulled away, moved to the other breast and she let her head drop back against the door and… absorbed.
Abruptly he straightened and startled, she grabbed his shoulders. "Grab my coat," he said and she blinked at him.
"What?"
He carried her to the sofa. "Grab my coat."
She clutched one of his shoulders and leaned over to do what he asked. "Why?"
He was already heading back to her bedroom. "Condoms in the pocket."
She dug in one pocket, then the other and pulled out a white plastic drugstore bag. She let his coat fall to the floor and leaned in to nip at his lips. "Got 'em."
He knelt at the foot of her bed, lowered her carefully to the mattress. He stripped her pants down her legs before she could blink and unwilling to sit on the sidelines, she pulled off her shirt. She was reaching behind her for the hooks of her bra when he set his mouth to her, right through the silk triangle of her thong. She fell back against the pillow, clutched the bedspread in both fists, and once again, simply absorbed.
"You're wet," he muttered. "So wet." He lifted his head and his eyes glittered. "I was hoping you would be."
"I was thinking of you."
His brow lifted and he looked like the devil himself, but the image enticed. "What were you thinking?"
Reflex had her lifting her hips, wanting him back where he'd been, doing what he'd been doing. Never before had it felt so incredibly good. "Solliday, please."