He turned her on like no man had before. It was more than his dark good looks and tight, fit body. It was the way he focused on the task at hand, whether it was dragging the past out of her, pursuing justice, or right here and now making her feel whole again. Making love to her.
She had so many questions, wanted to know everything about him. And when she did, she would care about him even more. Care about him too much.
She already did.
Pushing those thoughts from her mind, she reached down and felt his firm buttocks. She dug in her fingers and he thrust forward. He was rigid against her and she wanted him. She kissed him, and he took her mouth deep in his, his hands never stopping, touching her all over, keeping her warm, making her hot. “Make love to me,” she whispered in his ear, then licked the sensitive spot behind the lobe. He shuddered in her arms.
“Not yet.” His voice was low and husky, and he pulled her panties off with his teeth. She grew cold without his body pressed firmly against hers, but then his tongue parted her vagina and she gasped as liquid heat pooled between her legs.
She grabbed the comforter in her fists as his tongue worked magic. She moaned, the pleasure mixed with just a little pain as her orgasm built and his mouth suckled. She arched her back, her hips rose off the bed, and he lightly bit her nub, bringing on a shuddering orgasm that left her panting and hoarse.
Then he climbed on top of her and kissed her hard. She held on to him, bringing him as close as possible. He spread her legs to enter her.
Then she flipped him.
John almost didn’t know what hit him. One second he was about to sheath himself deep in Rowan’s hot body, needing her, wanting her, craving her. Then he was on his back and Rowan’s long blonde hair hung in his face. He spit out a strand and began to say, “What?” when she kissed him hard, then sat up.
He watched as she took him into her elegant hands and guided him into her. She gasped as his head entered, her eyes closed, her mouth parted. It was all he could do not to thrust himself completely into her at once and come. He was so close.
But he loved watching her. She was like a goddess perched above him, her back arched, her breasts firm, her nipples hard and pointed. Her skin was so white, so soft, so perfect, even with the scars.
Then she slid completely onto him and he saw stars.
He reached for her hands and held them tight. She was directing, and it was all he could do to allow it. He wanted to take control, but relished her abandon. She ground herself into him and moaned, then pulled up until he was almost out, then slid back down.
The torture was excruciating and wonderful at the same time.
He felt her muscles clutch him as she slid down and her body quivered, sending shock waves from his balls to his brain. He couldn’t wait.
Grabbing her beautiful ass in his hands, he pushed her down onto him and pumped into her. She moaned and fell onto his chest, quivering. He felt her muscles clamp down on him.
He came with more force than he had ever remembered coming, and then held her close as she rocked with her own orgasm.
He gently, tenderly, turned her over and pulled the comforter around them. He held her, kissing her hair, her face, her lips. He was already growing hard again, still sheathed in her warm body. “Rowan, I want you again.”
She kissed him long and sweet. Together, they explored.
Michael staggered into his apartment, his head pounding and his stomach threatening to rebel. He should never have eaten two cheeseburgers and fries on a stomach full of Scotch and beer. Just get to the toilet, he kept telling himself. Don’t make a mess on the floor.
He made it in time, and bowed to the porcelain god for a good ten minutes. When he stood, he didn’t feel sick anymore, and briefly considered heading back to Rowan’s to help John with protection. Naw, he’d get a good night’s sleep and go back in the morning.
After drinking water directly from the bathroom faucet, he slowly walked back to his living room. His door stood wide open. “Shit,” he muttered, lambasting himself for being so stupid. He crossed over and slammed the door shut.
“Hello, Mr. Flynn.”
He whirled around and saw someone familiar standing in the middle of his living room. The stranger. The businessman from the bar.
Michael reached for his gun, but he already knew it was too late. Three bullets hit his chest. Excruciating heat and pain radiated throughout his body. He was on fire.
His body slammed against the wall and he fell to the floor. Everything moved in slow motion. The stranger walked over to him, light gleaming off his dark blond hair. He shook his head, a half-smile on his face, as he looked down at Michael.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Flynn. It wasn’t in the book, but sometimes, we have to improvise.”
The book. Rowan. Shit, he’d fucked up. I’m sorry, John. You were right.
A flash of light-a camera? Maybe it was a tunnel. Yes, a bright tunnel.
Then the world was gone.
CHAPTER 14
John had to force himself to do his job that morning when he and Rowan set out to jog along the beach. He wanted to watch her, but that would be dangerous. He had to watch the houses, watch the ocean, watch for anyone walking on the beach.
He craved her again. If he didn’t know Michael would be at the house by the time they were done running, he might have considered making love to her on the beach. But it would be better if Michael didn’t find out yet what had happened.
John wondered if he could keep his face blank.
After making love the second time, they’d slept a couple of hours. John woke with a start at four in the morning. Rowan was moaning in her sleep, crying out for Dani. He gathered her in his arms and felt a rare sense of peace as she quieted and held on to him. He didn’t want to delve too deeply into his feelings. After all, he didn’t doubt as soon as the murderer was caught that Rowan would go on with her life. And he would go after Pomera.
But his problems, his pain in losing Denny and others to drug-dealing killers like Pomera, seemed pitiful compared to what Rowan had endured every day since she was ten. Even before then. That Rowan had the courage to continue, albeit less than perfectly, gave him additional strength.
Rowan paused at the base of the stairs and took deep, cleansing breaths. She smiled at him, her eyes bright. She seemed almost carefree, and he was pleased he’d given her a little peace after the turmoil of the last two weeks.
“Want to join me for a shower?”
He was already semi-hard just watching her sweat, her small breasts straining against her damp T-shirt. He grabbed her and kissed her passionately, relishing the salty taste of her lips, the sweat on her back, her glow from exercise and the aftermath of good sex.
He quickly broke the embrace. This wasn’t the right place. “Let’s go.” His voice was husky and he cleared his throat.
He didn’t forget his responsibility. He checked out the deck and the house before declaring all was safe. He glanced at his watch. Seven.
“We don’t have a lot of time,” he said.
“Then we’d better get started.” She jogged up the stairs to her bedroom and he followed, locking the door behind him. She stripped in front of him and he could only watch and admire her lean muscles. But all the right places were soft.
“Rowan, I-”
She put a finger to his lips. “Like you said,” she said softly, “we don’t have a lot of time.”
He didn’t miss the double meaning. He didn’t know why it bothered him when she said it, even though he’d been thinking the same thing.
Rowan led him into the shower, relishing the connection they had forged the night before. She’d never felt so wanton, so incredibly desirous.
They began in the shower where she started to wash him, and he took over. She let him. He took the soap in his large, confident hands and rubbed her body until she quivered with more than simple lust. A longing grabbed her, a need to draw out this close intimacy. It was delicate and bright, and like anything new could easily be destroyed.