* * * *
Scott’s ears rang as temper blasted through him to match the fury of the storm. Without thinking, he barreled toward her, tangled his hand in her hair, and yanked her head back. “What did you say?”
“You heard me,” she snapped, her eyes an indigo blue and full of fire. Her lips were pink and full and too much temptation for anybody to resist, especially a man holding on to his control with both hands and losing.
He swooped in, his mouth taking hers. The storm around him paled compared to the wild hurricane of Millicent Frost.
Rain pounded all around them, beating in sync with the thundering of his heart against his rib cage. She wasn’t a calm eye in the middle of the storm, but the very vision of turbulence, brilliant and dangerous and so sweet. He couldn’t help but take them both away from the moment.
His lips moved against hers and he delved deep into her, allowing the flames to consume him in the middle of the downpour. Droplets trickled down her face and mingled with the heat of their kiss, contrasting violently with the passion unleashed between them. She tasted like fine wine and pure rain, and more importantly, like promise and hope.
Her fingers clenched in his soaked shirt as she rose on tiptoe, opening her mouth and giving him everything.
He pulled her even closer, consumed in her, lost in her, maybe even found in her. He drew back to catch his breath and stared like a man possessed. Her cheeks were flushed and her chest heaved as she panted out, but it was those eyes, those brilliant sparkling unfathomable blue eyes that nearly had him taking her to the ground. He swept her up against him, careful of the fresh bruises and cuts on her fragile body, and stalked through the deluge to the doorway, making sure the dog made it safely inside.
Then he kissed her again, taking what he needed. He positioned her so he could reach behind him and lock the door. The flimsy lock would at least warn him if anybody tried to get inside.
He then walked silently, still kissing her, lost in the feel of her tight body in his arms as he climbed the stairs and maneuvered into her bedroom this time. Wrenching his mouth free, he yanked off her shirt, pulling his head back just long enough to do so before he kissed her again, addicted to the feel of her against him. He set her on the bed, and her hands instantly went to his shirt, yanking it up over his head and forcing him to duck or get strangled.
She chuckled and the sound careened directly to his balls.
He was throbbing and he was hard, and never in his life had he felt this desperate. Even so, he had to make himself clear. So he once again tangled his fingers in her hair and drew her head back, keeping his grip firm to signify control. “Millie, you need to listen to me.”
She blinked once, her gaze dropping to his mouth, then lifting again to meet his. “What?” she asked, unsnapping his jeans.
Desire morphed into lust in his veins, and the roaring of his blood nearly drowned out his good intentions. “I mean it.” His throat felt raw. “I know you were angry and upset tonight, but you can’t go off half-cocked like that.” If he hadn’t been there, she would’ve headed into town to try to solve the murder and could have quite possibly ended up dead herself. He would not tolerate her putting herself in danger. “Tell me you get me.”
She slowly unzipped his jeans, challenge stamped hard across her face. “Terentson? You need to learn that I can take care of myself.” She reached in and grabbed him, her hand wet from the rain and so soft, a low growl rumbled up his throat and emerged from his chest.
Triumph lifted her lips. “Now what were you saying?” she asked, stroking him.
He lifted his chin. Apparently he wasn’t getting through to her. He’d have to try something else.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Millie realized the very second she made the mistake. She’d underestimated Scott Terentson once again.
His chin lifted and his eyelids slowly lowered to half-mast. He looked dangerous and intent and shockingly sexy. “I thought I was making myself clear,” he ground out, several octaves lower than his already low tone. “Let’s try this again.” With one smooth flick of his wrist, he unfastened the front clasp of her bra and the cups sprang open. He drew it lightly down her arms and leaned over, his mouth dropping to nip at her ear and to scrape along her jugular to her clavicle.
Need rushed through her, and her blood started to pound with a demand that far exceeded the storm outside.
He lifted his head suddenly with the bra straps just below her elbows and yanked her arms behind her back to quickly tie the bra together.
She jerked and pulled, stunned that he’d bound her hands. Looking down, she found her nipples rock hard, and her breastsached.
His smile was beyond wicked. Then he dropped to his knees, unfastened her jeans, and pulled them down her legs along with her panties, revealing her.
Then his mouth was on her. She threw back her head and cried out as a shocking pleasure thundered from his mouth into her body. She whimpered and he nipped her in response, licking her, then lashing her clit.
He knew exactly what he was doing, pushing her higher, forcing her right to the edge.
She leaned against him, trying to find purchase, but her hands remained securely bound, and then he stopped. She opened her eyes and looked down. “Scott?”
“Yeah,” he said, gently lifting one of her legs to pull her jeans and panties free before doing so with the other leg.
“What are you doing?” she asked, gasping, panting, needing.
He stood, scraping one hand along her ankle, shin, knee, and thigh to cup her mound.
