“That’s it,” he muttered, and, grabbing her arm, pulled her across the room.
“That’s what? Are you throwing me out of the house?”
“Don’t tempt me. I’m taking you to bed. I ought to get something out of this.”
“Gosh, what a charming offer, but I really need that shower, so—”
“I want you sweaty.” He used the momentum, gave her arm a quick whip and more or less slingshot her onto the bed. “I’ll show you some moves.”
“I think you just did.” She pushed herself up, cocked her head. “Maybe I’m not in the mood.” And her breath caught when he yanked the damp shirt over her head, tossed it. “Or—”
“You can pick that up later.” He cupped her breasts, rubbed her nipples with calloused thumbs. “You made the bed.”
“Yes, I did.”
“A lot of good it did you.” When she shivered, he pushed her onto her back.
“And you’re going to show me the error of my ways?”
“Damn right.” He hooked his fingers in the waistband of her gym shorts, pulled.
Smiling, she trailed a fingertip from her collarbone to her belly, and back again. “Then come and get me.”
He stripped, watching her watching him.
“I should just keep you naked,” he considered as he straddled her. “I know what to do with you when you’re naked.”
“I like what you do with me when I’m naked.”
“Then you’re going to love this.”
He took her avid, inviting lips with his, roughening the kiss even as he deepened it. He used his weight to pin her as her heart began to gallop, used his hands to exploit her so that hot, damp skin trembled.
Strong and capable she was, down to the marrow, he thought. It was part of what made her irresistible. But now, just now, he wanted her weak, he wanted her helpless. For him, only for him.
He used his tongue, his fingertips, in long, slow journeys that made her sigh as he felt her body relax into pleasure.
Then his teeth so her pulses leaped.
When his mouth came back to hers, she sighed again, lifting her hands to his face in the way that always disarmed him, then sweeping her fingers through his hair.
Against his mouth her breath quickened when he trailed a finger up her inner thigh, retreated, stroked slowly back to brush, only to brush, the heat.
When she moaned his name, arched her hips, he retreated again.
She ached. Her body quivered, rising toward that lovely release, only to have it denied. Even as she said his name again, he feathered his fingers over her, made her writhe. And his mouth began the same torturous assault on her breasts.
He gave, gave, took her to within a breath of peak. Then eased away to leave her churning.
“I want you. Simon. Please.”
Still he played her until her gasps mixed with moans, until her hands pulled at the spread she’d so neatly smoothed that morning.
He drove into her, hard, fast, a shock to her tormented system. The orgasm tore through her, center to throat. She heard her own scream, heard it, felt it deepen into a shuddering moan of release. Her body roared through it, bucking beneath his, nails digging in until her hands simply slid bonelessly to the bed.
He dragged her up so her head fell against his shoulder.
“Put your legs around me.”
“I—”
“I want you around me.” His teeth scraped over her throat, her shoulders. “It’s all I can think about. You around me.”
She gave him what he wanted, held on through the storm. Rode it up again, yet again, until there was nothing left.
She all but melted onto the bed, might have lain there weak as water till morning. But he pulled her over, anchored her so she sprawled over him with her head on his chest over his raging heart.
She dozed off and the next thing she knew she was blinking awake and staring at four furry faces pressed to the deck door. Simon’s chest rose and fell steadily under her head, but his fingers played with her hair, sliding through it, twining it, sliding. Everything about the moment made her smile.
“The dogs want in,” she murmured.
“Yeah, well, they can wait a minute.”
“I’ll get them.” But she didn’t move. “I’m starving. I guess working out followed by working out hones the appetite.”
She snuggled in. One more minute, she told herself. Then she’d let the sad-eyed dogs in, grab that shower, and they’d figure out what to toss together for dinner.
She started to stretch, then her gaze landed on the bedside clock. “What! Is that clock right?”
“I don’t know. Who cares?”
“But... Did I fall asleep? For an hour ? That’s like a nap.”
“Fee, that is a nap.”
“But I never take naps.”
“Welcome to my world.”
“Well, God.” She shoved up, pushed her hands through her hair. Since it was the closest to hand, she grabbed his T-shirt, dragged it on.
It just covered her ass, he noted. Too bad.
She opened the door, and the room was immediately filled with dogs.
“Sorry, boys. Go on and talk to Simon. I need a shower.”
She dashed into the bathroom. And all four dogs lined up on the side of the bed, tails whipping, eyes staring, noses twitching.
“Yeah, that’s right. That’s right. I had sex with her. A lot of sex. What’s it to you? Only one of you has balls, and since everybody’s haranguing me, he’s not going to have them much longer.”
He recognized the gleam in Jaws’s eyes. “Don’t even think about jumping up here,” Simon warned, but cupped a hand around his own balls, just in case. “Why don’t you go get me a beer? Now that would be a useful behavior.”
Since none of them seemed inclined, he got up to get one for himself.
Once he got downstairs, he switched it to wine. She’d said she wanted wine, he remembered. He might as well go that route, too. He poured two glasses and sipped the first as he opened the refrigerator to study the contents.
They were going to starve to death, he decided, if one of them didn’t think about hitting the grocery store. He poked into the freezer and decided one of her frozen girl meals was better than starvation.
Marginally.
He picked up her wine and, with the dogs trailing him—again—started back for the stairs.
Beside him, Newman let out a quiet woof seconds before he saw the woman walk onto his front porch.
She beamed a smile through the screen door. “Well, hello.”
Simon took a moment to think she was lucky he’d bothered to pull on his boxers. “Something I can do for you?”
“I hope so. I’d love to talk to you for a few minutes. I’m Kati Starr, with U.S. Report. Isn’t that Fiona Bristow’s car—and her dogs, right?”
Slick looks, slick manner, he thought.
“Here’s what I’m going to do for you. I’m going to tell you, once, to turn around, get back in your own car. Go away. Stay away.”
“Mr. Doyle, I’m just doing my job, and trying to do it as thoroughly and accurately as I can. My information is there might be a break in the investigation. As I’ve been told Ms. Bristow’s now living with you, I’d hoped to be able to get her thoughts on this potential break. I admire your work,” she added. “I’d love to do a feature on you sometime. How long have you and Ms. Bristow been involved?”
Simon closed the door in her face, flipped the lock.
He figured he’d give her three minutes to get the hell off his property before he called the sheriff and had the satisfaction of pressing charges for trespassing.
But when he got back upstairs, Fiona, wet hair slicked back, sat on the side of the bed.
“I saw her through the window, so you don’t have to wonder if you should tell me or not.”
“Okay.” He passed her the wine.
“I was going to say I’m sorry she came here, started on you, but it’s just not my fault.”
“No, it’s not your fault. She said she had information that there’d been a break in the case. I don’t know if she was just fishing or if she’s got a source leaking her information.”