Her one free hand gripped his shirt-to pull him close or push him away, he wasn’t sure. In an attempt to eliminate the latter possibility, he untangled his fingers from her silky hair, disengaged her hand from his shirt, and single-handedly pinned it with the other above her head.
Only then did he end that endlessly long, thorough kiss. They were both breathing hard, trying to recover from that wild, dizzying ride. She tugged weakly on her manacled wrists, but he wasn’t done seducing her No, not even close.
His fingers skillfully, effortlessly, flicked open three more buttons on her dress while his open mouth discovered a soft, ultrasensitive spot along her throat that made her shiver. His tongue skimmed a path to her ear where he murmured his intentions in explicitly shocking detail.
“No,” she moaned, a paltry protest her mouth, her body, didn’t agree with. Her lips were wet, parted, and lush, receiving his rapacious kisses and returning them with equal fervor. Her body twisted sensually toward his for something more.
“Oh, yes,” he breathed hotly, burying his face in the warm, fragrant curve of her neck. His fingers unsnapped the front closure of her satin-and-lace bra and pushed the cups aside, baring her to him. He filled his large palm with her plump flesh, grazed his thumb across a nipple until it grew pebble-hard.
The moment he touched her, she yielded to his caress, grew pliant and just as needy as he. In the depths of her heavy-lidded eyes he saw her succumb, felt her body release all tension and soften with feminine allure.
That was all the urging it took for him to proceed in making good on the promises he’d whispered in her ear. He dragged his mouth along her collarbone, laved warm, damp kisses on her chest, nipped gently at the slope of her breasts until they swelled and tightened. His tongue lavished the crests with attention, flicking teasingly, lapping temptingly, until finally he drew her nipple deep within his mouth and suckled hungrily.
A helpless sob caught in her throat, and the hands he’d restrained above her head curled into tight fists, though she didn’t struggle. Her breathing deepened, grew ragged and labored with an unspoken need he understood. His own body hardened, his erection pressing insistently against her thigh. For as much as he wanted to be inside her sleek, giving warmth, tonight, the pleasure was all hers.
His free hand explored, trailing a burning path over her hip, down her thigh, then swept beneath the hem of her dress. His questing fingertips rasped along silky stockings, sending his blood soaring. As he skimmed higher, stroking the inside of her thighs, her legs gradually, instinctively relaxed and eased apart for him. He had no idea what he’d expected to find, but the delicate lace band holding up her stockings was a delightful and arousing surprise. The three inches of bare skin he caressed next was baby-soft and quivering. And then he reached her panties, a satiny scrap of fabric covering her most feminine secrets. He stroked his fingers along the exquisitely sensitive flesh hidden beneath the flimsy barrier, and experienced supreme satisfaction when heat and dampness greeted his touch.
Her entire body shuddered at the intimate caress, and her hips rolled upward, seeking a deeper contact. “Josh, please…” she whispered raggedly.
Lifting his mouth from her breasts, he looked up at her face, flushed with sensual longing. Her eyes were bright and fevered and unfocused. She looked beautiful, and damn exciting, spread so wantonly beneath him.
“Please what?” he murmured, refusing to give her what her body craved unless she admitted her desire and need for him. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”
She bit her bottom lip and moaned in frustration. Then, seemingly unable to deny her need for him, she told him exactly what she wanted. “Touch me…kiss me…” Love me, her eyes begged.
He touched her, watching her slowly unravel as he pushed aside the elastic band of her panties, eased a finger inside her, and slicked his thumb along petal-soft folds of flesh.
He lowered his head and kissed her, a slow, languid melding of lips and tongue that matched the sensual rhythm of his fingers.
Loving her was the easiest part of all; his feelings came naturally, from the depths of his heart and soul.
In the next instant she gave him what he ultimately wanted. Her climax was powerful and emotional, making her shudder and cry out for him as the waves of pure, blissful fulfillment engulfed her. When it was over and Paige’s body ceased quivering, Josh released her hands and rested his head just above her breasts, absorbing the wild beating of her heart that echoed the racing of his pulse. His own body throbbed, but this moment wasn’t about his pleasure and surrender, but hers.
She knew it, too. “Damn you, Josh,” she said in a low, fierce tone that expressed her anger at the situation, and herself.
He chuckled lightly, and her nipple tightened as his breath caressed the tip. “Those weren’t quite the words of gratitude I was hoping for.”
She twined her fingers in his hair, forcing him to lift his head and look at her. “You’re an arrogant bastard.”
He grew serious, opting for honesty instead of humor. “When it comes to you, yeah, I probably am. I want you to think about everything you’ll be leaving behind if you move back to Connecticut.”
“Great sex?” she asked flippantly.
His mouth thinned in annoyance. “What’s between us is more than sex, as hot and fantastic as it is. You know that, even if you won’t admit it.” He smoothed her hair away from her face, the gesture more an excuse to touch her than anything else. “I can’t make the bad memories go away, but I can replace them with good memories if you’ll just give me the chance.”
“It’s not that simple.” Untangling her fingers from his hair, she moved from beside him and sat on the edge of the mattress. She tugged at the sides of her dress, covering her breasts. “It’s not only about us, or Anthony, but who and what you are, too.”
“A cop,” he said flatly, finally understanding.
She nodded, her expression regretful. “Unfortunately, yes.”
He stood and dragged a hand through his tousled hair. His body was tense from the arousal still thrumming through his veins, and from Paige’s stubborn ideas. “I’m a homicide detective, Paige,” he said, trying to reason with her. “Not a vice cop like Anthony was.”
“The danger is still there, so is the risk. The gun you wear proves that. This case we’re both involved in proves it.” Her argument was fierce and heated, spurred by her own personal experience. “I can’t go through that again. I want a husband I can count on coming home at night. I want a stable, wholesome environment for my children. And if that’s selfish of me, then so be it.”
He chose his rebuttal carefully. “I don’t think it’s at all selfish to want those things. But I also know it’s possible to be married to a cop and have a good, stable home life. My parents are proof of that. You’ve met them and can see for yourself how happy they are together. And I don’t think any one of their five kids suffered because my father was a cop.”
Her chin shot up. “And how many times do you think your mother stayed up all night long while your father was out on patrol or working on a case, wondering if he was going to come home in the morning? Or if she’d find his partner at the door to inform her that her husband had been killed in the line of duty?”
Her bitter memories were difficult to compete with. “I’m sure, in a lot of ways, my mother felt exactly the way you did.” He’d heard enough complaints from colleagues about the strain their job put on their marriages, many of which didn’t survive the pressure, to know the problem was prevalent in law enforcement. But buckling under the stress didn’t happen to everyone. “My father is a good man, Paige, loyal and scrupulous to a fault. Those traits are what matters when it comes to his devotion to his wife and family. It’s the difference between me and Anthony.”