“Hey!”
He cut off her protest with a long, hungry kiss even as he tugged off her jacket.
Chapter Eight
“Museums are closed,” he pointed out, and flipped the release on her weapon harness. “You’re circling the ifs at this point, aren’t you?”
“Maybe.”
“And as I recall,” he said as he unhooked her belt, “you’ve plans to be up and out early, since you’re a boss with paperwork to complete.”
“You added to that tonight.” While he nipped his way down her throat, she pushed at his suit jacket. “And shit, I never hit a machine.”
He felt her sigh, recognized both pleasure and resignation.
“I’m going to need a cash loan, if you don’t mind.”
His lips curved in a grin just under her jaw. And there, he thought, the resignation.
“I don’t mind at all. We’ll do the transaction in the morning. But for now, I want my wife.”
His mouth came back to hers, and that want heated as lips and tongues met.
He wanted to seduce her, to take, and be taken. He wanted to know she felt, she needed all that he did.
“I want her body, her mind, her heart.”
He had them. She knew he always would. It was a daily miracle for her to know she had his.
And he could take her, in one thick heartbeat, into a world ruled by the senses, driven by needs both simple and complex, and warmed by a love that had no end.
She fought off his tie. “You’re wearing all the clothes.”
“We can fix that.”
He boosted her up, set her on the command center, then pulled off her right boot.
Her eyes met his as she unbuttoned his shirt. “Here?”
He pulled off the left boot. “We’ve tested it before. It’s more than sturdy enough. And what a picture you make, Lieutenant Dallas, half-dressed on your center of command. It’s no wonder, is it, I can never get enough of you.”
“It is to me.”
When he shrugged out of his shirt, she reached for his belt, and using it, yanked him to her.
They sprawled over the counter as she struggled with the belt. As his hands, and the magic in them, turned her body into a furnace fired with needs.
When his mouth took hers again, all those needs poured into the kiss, all that fire burned through her blood. And every minute of the day before that moment blew away like feathers in the wind.
Only him, only now, only them.
He peeled her support tank away, cupped her breasts in his hands as his lips glided down to them.
So firm, so smooth, a glorious contrast to tough muscle, long, lean lines, fascinating angles. No, he could never get enough of her, so helet his hands, his mouth, touch and taste the strong and the subtle, the soft and the smooth while the beat of her heart quickened under his lips, while her body trembled under his hands.
He murmured in the language of his blood when she moaned. He felt his own heart spring to a gallop as her hips rocked, as her hands took.
“We’ll need more room after all,” he managed. He pulled her up, then down with him to the floor.
