A couple of lightning bolts popped in the sky, and the thunder rolled closer in one long, menacing growl.Eve felt the first splat of rain in the rising wind.
She walked over to rescue the bottle of champagne while Roarke stared at the grill.
“I’m thinking pizza,” she said and started into the house.
“It’s just a glitch.” Roarke scraped what was left of the food into the unit’s garbage disposal feature. “This isn’t finished,” he grumbled to it, and followedEve into the house. “I’ll have another look at it tomorrow,” he told her.
“You know…” She crossed to the AutoChef, which was, in her opinion, the sensible way to cook. “… it’s sort of nice to see that you can screw up like the rest of us mortals. Get all sweaty and frustrated and curse out inanimate objects. Though I’m not convinced that thing outside is inanimate.”
“A factory defect, no doubt.” But he was grinning now. “I’ll see to it tomorrow.”
“Bet you will. You want to eat in here?”
“That’s fine. We won’t likely eat in the kitchen much after tonight, with Summerset due home tomorrow.”
She stopped dead, the glass halfway to her lips. “Tomorrow? That can’t be right. He just left five minutes ago.”
“Tomorrow,noon.” He walked over to flick a finger over the dent in her chin. “It’s been considerably longer than five minutes.”
“Make him extend it. Tell him to… he should take a trip around the world. In a boat. One of those boats you row by hand. It’ll be good for him.”
“I offered him more time. He’s ready to come home.”
“Well, I’m not ready.” She threw up her hands.
He only smiled, leaned in, and kissed her forehead as he might a child’s.
She huffed out a breath. “Okay then. Okay. But now we have to have sex on the kitchen floor.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“It’s on my to-do list, and we didn’t get to it yet, so we’ll have to go for it now. Pizza can wait.”
“You have a to-do list?”
“It was supposed to be spontaneous, and uncontrolled, but we’ll have to go with what we’ve got.”
She drained the glass of champagne, set it down, then released her weapon harness. “Go on, strip it off, pal.”
“A sexual to-do list?” Amused, fascinated, he watched her dump her harness on the counter, then start on her boots. “Was that bout we had last week on the dining room table, and the floor, on your list?”
“That’s right.” She pried off a boot, kicked it aside.
“Let me see the list.” He held out a hand, wiggled his fingers.
Bent over for the second boot, she lifted her head. “It’s what you’d call a mental list.” She tapped her head. “All up here. You’re not stripping.”
“I love your mind.”
“Yeah, well, let’s just get this little chore ticked off, then we can-”
She broke off when he swooped her up, then dumped her butt-first on the kitchen counter. Taking her hair in two fists, he yanked her mouth to his, and ravished.
“Spontaneous enough for you?” he asked when she sucked in a breath.
“It might be-” The words tumbled back down her throat when he ripped her shirt open.
“How’s that for uncontrolled?”
It was a little hard to comment when her mouth was being assaulted again. He yanked what was left of her shirt down to her wrists. Her hands were trapped, tripping an instinctive panic that tangled messily with a spurt of excitement as he tugged the tattered material like a rope.
Her hands were behind her back now, and the blood was buzzing in her ears. She couldn’t seem to draw a full breath. The champagne she’d drank began to spin giddily in her head, and her thigh muscles quivered.
“My hands,” she managed.
“Not yet.” He was mad for her. It seemed he spent his life mad for her. The shape and the scent of her, the taste and the feel of her. And now the sound she made as his hand raced over her.
He feasted on her skin, the lovely rise of her breast with her heart raging under his mouth. She moaned again, trembled, losing herself, he knew, as he used his tongue, his teeth.
Let go. There was nothing more arousing to him than when she let go.
She still couldn’t breathe, but no longer cared. Sensations were storming her, too brutal, too dark, to be called something as mild as pleasure.
She let him take, would have begged him to take more if she’d had the words. When he yanked her pants down her hips, she opened for him. And those hands, those wonderful hands, drove her over.
She cried out as she came, as the orgasm flashed through her with such intense heat.
Her head dropped weakly on his shoulder, and she managed one word. “More.”
“Always.” His lips were on her hair, her cheek, then on hers again. “Always.”
His arms came around her, and once freed, hers around him. She locked her legs around his waist and struggled to speak as her breath came in short, strained pants. “We’re not on the floor.”
“We’ll get there.” He nipped at her shoulder, her throat, wondered how he could stop himself from simply eating her whole.
He hitched her off the counter, taking her weight as their mouths fused again, as heartbeat slammed against heartbeat. Her hands had worked their way under his shirt, her short nails scraping over his damp skin.
Then she tugged it up, tugged it off, and fixed her teeth on his shoulder. “God, your body. Mine, mine, mine.”
They were on the floor, pulling at clothes, pulling in air as lungs threatened to burst. And this time when her legs locked around him, he buried himself inside her.
Hot, so viciously hot, she trapped him there, rising up to take more of him, dragging him down to follow her. His hands slid off her slick skin, then found purchase on her hips. They dug in while he plunged.
Chapter12
They were lying on their backs on the floor in a sweaty heap. Her throat was wild with thirst, but she wasn’t entirely sure she could swallow. Just breathing took all the energy she had left.
As far as spontaneous, uncontrolled sex went, she thought they had a winner. She felt his fingers brush hers, and gave him top marks for recovery.
“Is there anything left on your to-do list?” he asked softly.
“No.” Her breath whistled in, whistled out. “That cleans it up.”
“Thank God.”
“We have to get up from here, beforenoon tomorrow,”Eve warned.
“I think it has to be sooner. I’m starving.”
She thought it over. “So am I. I don’t suppose you could pull one of your macho routines and carry me.”
“I don’t suppose. I was hoping you’d carry me.”
“Well.” They lay where they were another full minute. “Maybe we can try this together.”
“On three then.” He counted it off. On three, they managed to pull each other to sitting positions, then just sat there, grinning.
“That was really good. My idea,” she reminded him.
“And one for the record books. We’d better try to stand up.”
“Okay, but let’s not rush it.”
They staggered to their feet, swayed, then held each other up like a pair of drunks.
“Wow. I’d say I got a little trashed watching you lose a round to that grill, but that’s not it. You trashed me. Appreciate it.”
“My pleasure.” He rested his head on hers. “Just hold a minute until the blood starts circulating again.”
“Your blood has a tendency to circulate straight to your dick, and I need pizza. And a shower,” she realized. “A shower, then pizza, because, pal of mine, we are a mess.”
“All right. Let’s get what’s left of these clothes.”
She found the rag of her shirt, what used to be her underwear, and other assorted apparel. Together, they carried the evidence out of the kitchen.
“And don’t think you’re going to nail me again in the shower. We’re done.”