She wrapped one leg around his waist. “More,” she panted, giving over to the feelings rushing through her. “Right there.”
“There?”
“Yes.”
He stroked again. “Yes?”
“Don’t stop.”
He chuckled next to her ear. “Stopping at this point isn’t going to happen.”
He placed his hands on the sides of her face and moved within her, rocking against her with a slow, steady rhythm, pacing himself. With his face just above hers, he stared into her eyes as he moved in and out. She got the feeling he was trying to be gentle or controlled or something. But that wasn’t what she wanted.
“Faster,” she managed and moved with him. Matching each thrust of his hips. He picked up the pace, thrusting faster and harder, pushing her closer and closer with each powerful stab. It didn’t take long before he was as mindless as she, both racing toward completion. She got there first, and as intense waves of orgasm rushed across her flesh, she moaned his name. The walls of her body convulsed around his rock-hard erection as he drove into her again and again, taking her with him until he too felt the euphoric tug and overwhelming rush. He swore and groaned deep in his chest. He thrust one last time, then collapsed on top of her. For several long moments he didn’t move. “Quinn?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you okay?”
“Okay?” A deep, raspy laugh rumbled his chest against hers. “That,” he said, catching his breath, “was the best good stuff I think I’ve ever had.”
She removed her leg from around his waist and slid her hands across his shoulders before her arms fell to her sides. She smiled because she couldn’t help it. He was right. It had been the best good stuff.
Quinn raised his weight onto his elbow, and she lowered her gaze, fearing that what she felt in her heart could be seen through her eyes. He kissed her pleased lips and withdrew from her body. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”
He left to use the bathroom in his bedroom, and Lucy rose from the bed. She grabbed her blouse and a new pair of panties out of her suitcase and took the opportunity to use the bathroom a few doors down the hall. When she was finished, she buttoned the blouse over her bare breasts and stepped into her pink silky panties. She looked at her refection in the mirror above the sink. The same mirror she’d gazed into the last time she’d been in his house. She saw a woman who looked like she’d just had sex, but beyond the obvious flushed cheeks and messed hair, she saw what she feared would be reflected there. A woman in love. Madly. Totally. Completely in love. She wondered if he’d seen it and she hoped not. The last thing she wanted was for him to know her feelings. He didn’t love her, and she didn’t want to scare him away.
She pushed her hair from her face and lifted her chin to study the red patch of skin on her chin where his stubble had scratched her. He wanted her. She hadn’t been wrong about that. She’d never been wrong about that, but it wasn’t love.
He didn’t love her and that hurt. It hurt like a red-hot clinker next to her heart. He wanted to be with her. He made her laugh and made her dizzy with his touch. He made her forget about the reason she was staying with him, and for today, that was enough. She would worry about tomorrow…well, tomorrow.
When she opened the bathroom door, he was waiting for her, leaning his back against the wall. His chest was bare and he wore his Levi’s low enough on his hips that it was obvious he wasn’t wearing his boxers. An Irish setter sat at his feet, and he held the dog’s collar in one hand.
“This is Millie,” he said.
She was a beautiful dog, with rich auburn hair and bright brown eyes. Her tongue hung out one side of her mouth as she looked up at Lucy. “So you’re the infamous Millie.” Lucy bent at the waist and scratched the top of the dog’s head. “At least Quinn didn’t lie about the color of your hair.”
“I’m afraid if I let her go, she’s going to try and sniff you.” Lucy held her hand in front of the dog’s nose. “That’s not the part she wants to sniff.”
She looked up into Quinn’s face. “Which is the reason I have a cat.”
“Cats don’t fetch sticks or jump in ponds to retrieve birds.”
“Which tells you how smart they are.”
He shook his head. “Come and watch this.” She followed him down the hall, watching the shadows slide over the smooth skin of his back. In the kitchen, he took a dog biscuit out of the cupboard. “Sit, Millie,” he commanded. Once the dog obeyed, he set the biscuit on the end of her nose. “Stay.” Poor Millie stared at the treat, her eyes crossed, until Quinn said, “Okay.” Then she flipped it up into the air and caught it with her mouth.
“A cat can’t do that.”
“If Snookie wanted to, he could.”
He gave her a skeptical look and scratched his dog’s ear. “Your cat probably can’t move that fast.”
He was probably right. “Are you disparaging Mr. Snookums?”
“He’s fat.”
“Husky.”
“Same thing.” Millie stood and walked a tight circle around Lucy, then sniffed her knee. “No. Sit Millie,” Quinn ordered, and the dog instantly obeyed.
Lucy placed her hands on her hips. “Snookie has an eating disorder. It’s not his fault.”
Quinn chuckled, threaded his arms around her waist, and pulled her up against his chest. “You’re cute when you get all worked up over that fat bag of fur.”
“Hey-” She might have defended Mr. Snookums’s honor if she hadn’t felt a wet nose on the inside of her thigh. “Wow.” She jumped a little and rose onto her tiptoes. “Your dog just goosed me.”
“I knew it was too good to last.” He dropped his hands and moved to the back door. “Out,” he said.
Millie walked slowly toward Quinn, then gave Lucy one last accusing look over her shoulder. “Won’t she get cold?”
“No.” Quinn shut the door behind his dog. “She has a house in the garage, and there’s a dog door leading into the backyard. She’ll be okay.” The overhead kitchen light poured down his bare shoulders and back as he walked to the refrigerator. “Are you hungry?” he asked.
“Depends on the offer.” She didn’t think she was up for another carb overload.
He opened the freezer. “I got raspberry sherbet.”
“I could always eat sherbet.”
He pulled a carton from the freezer, then shut the door. “There isn’t much here, so we’ll share.” He grabbed a bowl and a spoon and began to scoop.
There were things Lucy was dying to know about Quinn, beyond his job and how he planned to catch a psycho who was killing men and writing letters to Lucy. Important things like, “Tell me about Amanda.”
He glanced up from the carton. “Why?”
“Just making conversation.” She moved to the kitchen table and leaned her behind into it. “You know, I tell you stuff and you tell me stuff.”
“Amanda was short and had dark hair. Green eyes and big tits…ah, breasts.”
“Naturally,” Lucy said dryly.
He laughed and dumped the last of the sherbet into the bowl. “She had an annoying habit of leaving her long hair all over the place.” He moved toward Lucy and fed her a big bite.
It was cold and kind of tangy and felt good sliding down her throat. “How does a person leave her hair all over the place?”
“Beats the hell out of me.” He took a bite and pulled the spoon from his mouth. “She had this massive amount of hair, and it just fell out all over the damn house.”
A woman with big breasts and massive hair. Lucy hated her on principle. “Have you had a girlfriend since Amanda?”
“No.”
“Hookups?”
“I don’t remember.”
Great. He knew about her past relationships, but he didn’t seem all that willing to talk about his. “Are you going to remember me once I’m gone?” she asked.
He fed her another bite and pulled the spoon from her mouth. “You’re not going anywhere.” He brushed the back of the spoon against her right nipple. It puckered beneath the cold metal.