Give Me Fever

by Karen Anders

  Her system overloaded, her pulse heavy, her heart laboring against it.

  He’d driven back to his apartment as she’d expected and had asked her to come in, also as she’d expected, but the harsh need in his voice easily took her to a plane of desire that she’d never experienced with any man. Truth of the matter was, no man had ever gotten this close to her.

  She always thought of her heart as an impenetrable organ with only enough room for her sister and brother. Had no expectations that she would feel anything for a man like Christien.

  Whoa, she had to amend that. For the man she thought Christien was. It was now quite obvious that he wasn’t the one-dimensional heartbreaker she’d thought him to be. His admission that he needed her made her nervous and turned her on. She didn’t want to be needed.

  Being needed came with too many expectations and responsibilities. She was on the cusp of getting everything she wanted, a new life that included a fresh start without anything threatening to destroy her chance at happiness, of being independent and self-reliant. Security was within her grasp.

  But craving this new, less complicated life didn’t stop Tally from wanting more of Christien. She wanted to know what it was like to be needed by such a man. Shocking that she would feel such an emotional connection to him. Beyond their physical attraction, he made her feel, and it had been a long time, if ever, since anyone had touched her heart and emotions so profoundly. She thought about the things she kept from him—the treasure, the ghost—and knew, for her own self-preservation, she would keep them still. Digging herself in deeper wasn’t a rational decision yet she couldn’t seem to help herself.

  She remembered what he’d said about his mother and, with the resentment she harbored for hers, she wondered how he had handled his own.

  “How old were you when your mother died?”

  His dark brown eyes were unreadable, giving none of his own thoughts away, which only added to her curiosity about him.

  “Six.”

  Tally had never had a problem keeping eye contact with anyone, yet his straightforward expression got to her and she had to look away. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask you about it before, but I have issues with my own mother.”

  “Why are you asking me about it now?”

  “I want to know.” She licked her lips. “I want to know about you.”

  Regretfully, he stepped away and went over to a wet bar in the corner and picked up a bottle of Grand Marnier. He poured the dark amber liquid into two glasses.

  “Before you sleep with me? A baring of the souls, Tally?” he uttered in a low, gruff timbre, and his words thrilled and terrified her.

  “Yes. How did she die?”

  He tipped the glass up and took a sip, his eyes closing as he savored the taste of the potent libation. He walked back to her, settled on the sofa and handed her the other glass. “Robbery. She got in the way.”

  Tally brought the glass to her lips, the amber liquid on the rim smelling and tasting of sweet oranges. When the liquid hit her tongue, the orange flavor burst against her taste buds, a smooth, sweet and spicy combination. As she savored the aftertaste, she said, “That’s terrible.”

  “I couldn’t identify the killer in a lineup.”

  She fumbled for words, the alcohol souring on her tongue. “You mean you saw it?”

  He nodded.

  “Oh, Christien, how awful.”

  He braced his arms on his thighs and clasped his hands together. “The only regret I have is the killer is running around free.”

  She sat down on the sofa, setting the glass on his coffee table. Slipping her hands over his, an overwhelming urge to hold and soothe him warred with her need to remain detached. “Is that why you became a cop?”

  “Yes. Jack and I became cops and Jolie a prosecutor.”

  She moved closer to him, her hand stealing to the back of his neck, rubbing at his hot skin. “Why aren’t you on the force anymore?”

  She waited for him to answer as he suddenly leaned into her, rubbing his jaw along her cheekbone. She waited patiently for him to continue, knowing she’d sit there for hours, days, weeks, to learn more about him. It was a dangerous decision, but at the moment, she only cared about him—uncertainties, painful secrets and all.

  He closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if remembering; then his lashes lifted. His gaze was distant, as though he were caught somewhere in the past. “I punched out a suspect in court.”

  Anger? Frustration? His recklessness was an innate part of him, something that simmered just below the surface. She wanted to ask so many questions. “Did you? Wow. What happened to make you lose it so badly?”

  He glanced back at her and managed a shaky half smile, but the gesture was forced over the emotional torment flickering in his eyes. “He smirked at me.”

  “Smirked?”

  “After he was collared for murder, I was sent to his house. His wife let us into his workshop and I found evidence not only from the victim’s home, but from three other women who were murdered the same way.”

  “Don’t tell me.”

  “The evidence got suppressed and we lost the case.”

  “That’s when he smirked at you?”

  “And that’s when I hit him.”

  “Did he press charges?”

  “He did, but my representative said that I was under stress and he dropped the charges. The perp realized that he wasn’t going to get a sympathetic judge. They suspended me, but after my suspension was over, I quit.”

  “What? Christien, you left a job you love over this incident?”

  “I wanted justice.”

  He seemed so incredibly selfless, at the very heart and soul of who he was. A man who wanted nothing more than for everything around him to be good and right. “So is this guy running around free?”

  “Not for long,” Christien said roughly.

  “What does that mean?”

  “My former colleague Jim Carter and I keep tabs on him. Eventually he’ll slip up and we’ll have him.”

  “Oh, Christien.”

  “I want to make a difference.”

  Feeling like she was drowning in his beautiful brown eyes, she cupped his cheeks. “I don’t doubt it for a moment.”

  He stared at her, his expression strained. Then he tipped her face up and slowly lowered his head, and Tally made a helpless sound and let her eyes drift shut. Exerting pressure on her jaw, he covered her mouth in a wet, deep searching kiss that drove every ounce of strength out of her body.

  Leaning back, he pulled her into a hard, enveloping embrace, drawing her between his thighs, working his mouth hungrily against hers, pulling her hips even closer. Tally couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think. All she could do was hang on and ride out the thousand sensations exploding in her.

  Christien caught her by the hips and molded her flush against him, his mouth wide and hot as he ran his hand under her halter top and up her back. He made a low sound of approval when he discovered nothing but bare skin. Gliding his hand up her bare torso, cupping her breast, he stroked her with his thumb.

  His touch made her gasp, and she made another helpless sound against his mouth. Christien tightened his arm around her back and yanked his mouth away, his breathing labored. Her heart racing and her pulse thick and heavy, she turned her face against his neck, the warmth of his hand filling her with a heavy weakness.

  “You feel so good,” he whispered raggedly, dragging his fingers against her hardened nipple. Her whole body trembling, Tally turned her face tighter against the soft skin of his neck.

  Freeing his hand from her top, he slid it under her hair to cup the back of her neck, holding her even closer. “There’s not enough room on the sofa,” he said unevenly, his touch meant to comfort as he stroked her skin. He took a deep breath, rubbing his hand up her neck, and then spoke again, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I have a perfectly good bed.”

  Not sure she was going to be able to stand on her own, Tally loosened her grip, but
Christien didn’t let go of her. Rising with her in his arms, he wasted little time moving them into his dark bedroom.

  He released her just enough to let her slide down his body, groaning when any body part touched the hardness beneath his pants zipper.

  Once her feet touched the floor, he slid both hands up her rib cage and under her top. Drawing an unsteady breath, he eased away from her and watched intently as she moved her fingers up to the knot and released the halter top.

  Christien went very still, his lips parted on a sharp intake of breath, making her feel feminine and sexy and completely wanton. She stood before him, letting him look his fill, purposefully drawing out the anticipation.

  “Cup them for me, Tally. Lift them up.”

  Her nipples hardened immediately and she groaned softly, shocking herself at the heat that radiated off her skin when her palms curled under her breasts.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said softly.

  His hands went to her waist, as he drew her toward himself, she arched her back, thrusting her breasts out even more. When his hot, moist mouth tugged on her hard nipple, she felt a tugging, throbbing sensation in her clit.

  He released her nipple to lave and torment the other tip, until Tally was gasping. Hooking his thumbs in the stretchy waistband of the skirt, he stripped the garment from her, jamming her breath in her chest.

  His breathing ragged, he wrenched his shirt free of his pants and jerked it off in one movement. Tally weakly rested her head against his jaw, her whole body starting to unravel.

  The instant he was free of his shirt, he roughly whispered her name and hauled her flush against him, and Tally lost a whole piece of reality when he rubbed his chest against her breasts. Catching a handful of hair, he brought her head back, covering her mouth with a kiss that was meant to incite, to ignite, to devastate. Adjusting the fit of his mouth against hers, he absorbed the sounds she made, running his hands up her rib cage, rolling her hardened nipples with his thumbs.

  Tally couldn’t stand it. Fighting for every breath against the frenzy inside her, she drank in the sweetness of his mouth, drawing his tongue deeper and deeper. Sobbing against his mouth, she fumbled to release the buckle on his belt, then ran her fingertips up the thick, hard ridge under his zipper and molded her hand against it.

  Christien grabbed her wrist and yanked her hand away, making a hoarse sound deep in his throat. Bringing her arms around his neck, he tempered the kiss. Then he eased away from her and undid the front of his pants. His breathing harsh and labored, he rested his forehead against hers, as if collecting some control. His hands splayed wide on her hips, he slowly, slowly moved down her body.

  Tally clutched his shoulders when he moved his hot, wet mouth across her belly. Straightening, he caught her in his arms and placed her onto the bed; before she had time to react, he had his pants off and was beside her.

  Drawing air through clenched teeth, he dragged her against him, and Tally’s senses went into overload when his body connected with hers, the feel of him thick and hard and fully aroused at the juncture of her thighs.

  He quickly covered her mouth with another searing kiss, his fingers tangling in her hair, his heart hammering against his chest. Tightening his hold on her, he wedged his knee between her legs and then pressed her onto her back, and Tally fought for breath as he settled heavily between her thighs. The feel of him was wonderful. It was almost too much and, somehow, not enough.

  He scooted downward and her world turned on its axis. Kneeling between her spread thighs, his lips drifted along her quivering belly. His breath was warm on her skin as he kissed and nuzzled his way lower, until he reached the barrier of silk and lace. He nipped playfully at the fabric, teasing her with the promise of something much more pleasurable.

  “Take them off,” she ordered, not at all shocked at hearing the demanding tone of her voice.

  Giving in to her urging, he tucked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and slid them down her thighs and off, then repositioned her legs so they remained open, giving him an unobstructed view of the most intimate part of her.

  He skinned out of his boxer-briefs and heat curled through her as she caught her first glimpse of his erection, so thick and huge. He reached for one of the foil packets in a side drawer, tore it open and rolled the condom down his straining shaft.

  Then he sat back on his heels and his smoldering dark eyes took in every inch of her. Feeling naughty and daring, she lifted her hips and a frenzied light gleamed in his eyes. She brought her hands between her thighs, using her fingers to spread herself open, exposing her need for him in a way that should have made her feel vulnerable, but instead empowered her, because at the moment she felt like the one in control.

  His strong hands, slightly rough and callused, pushed her legs wider apart to make room for the width of his shoulders as he settled in between.

  His soft, dark hair tickled her skin as he lowered his head, the silky touch of his tongue both a relief and pure torment, wringing a husky moan from her.

  He laved her in sleek strokes and she gasped when he put one long finger, then two, deep inside her, and then gradually withdrew them, only to sink back into her in a slow, languid thrust.

  On the verge of spiraling apart, her body quaked with need and her inner muscles contracted. She heard herself whimper, arched into his skillful mouth and begged him to finally end the fierce, burning ache he’d stoked within her.

  Accommodating her, he closed his mouth over her clit, tonguing and teasing that taut knot of nerves while his fingers continued to slide deep, deep inside her. He sucked harder and her fingers twisted in his hair as she came on a shuddering orgasm that seemed to go on and on and on. The pleasure that shot through her was sharp and riveting and left her breathless, but not satisfied.

  He moved up and over her, the slide of his hard frame along the length of hers made her pulse leap higher and faster, as did the way he fit his lean hips between her still trembling thighs, which forced her legs high around his waist. He took control as easily as he made her gasp, pinned her beneath him so that he could have his wicked way with her.

  His chest crushed her breasts as he braced his forearms on either side of her head, and his sheathed erection, so hot and eager, channeled along her sensitive flesh and found the soft, slick entrance to her body. Before she could recover from the aftershocks of her dizzying climax, he drove into her, high and hard and unexpectedly deep.

  She sucked in a sharp breath at the abrupt sensation of being stretched and filled so completely. Her fingers curled around his biceps, her back arched and she cried out.

  He met her gaze and brushed back the tendrils of hair lying against her cheek with a touch so gentle her chest tightened with a startling connection that seemed to transcend their physical joining.

  “Finally inside you,” he said.

  That admission destroyed her defenses in a way she’d never anticipated—a scary prospect when this night with him should have been all about sex and pleasure—nothing more. And while she’d undoubtedly experienced both in varying degrees, she told herself that she couldn’t afford to form an emotional attachment to this man, not when her life was ready to even out.

  “Are you going to talk or are you going to move? Please say you’re going to move those hips.”

  He withdrew and surged forward with a quick movement of his hips, then he slowed, thrusting hard and deep when he was to the hilt inside her. He groaned, the sexy masculine sound reverberating against her chest and belly.

  “You feel so good,” he rasped.

  “So do you.” Smoothing her flattened hands down the sinewy slope of his spine, she palmed his taut buttocks, which flexed as he pulled back and then glided to the hilt once again.

  “Don’t stop,” she said hoarsely, feeling that gradual steady climb toward yet another climax.

  “Never crossed my mind.” His eyes blazed hotly, and the smile that curved his lips was a heady combination of seductive intent and prim
al desire.

  She managed a laugh that turned into a breathy moan when he rotated his pelvis against her, generating a stimulating pressure that was as possessive as it was arousing.

  Wrapping her legs tightly around his waist, she urged him to a faster rhythm.

  Thrusting in her, he gave her what he’d promised, increasing the pace and riding her with a wild, fierce aggression. Capturing her lips with his, he kissed her, his mouth and tongue just as demanding and as insistent as the way he was claiming her body.

  His thrusts grew stronger, deeper, harder. His hips urged her into lifting her own, meeting his in an uncontrollable response as he powerfully buried himself in her, over and over, until her orgasm crested in a fiery rush of pleasure. Her release was so intense, so all consuming, she wrenched her mouth from his and screamed, “Christien,” losing herself utterly in him and the exquisite sensations.

  He was right there with her, tossing his head back with a low, feral growl, his hips grinding against hers as his own climax rumbled through him. After one last shuddering thrust, he slumped against her and buried his face in the crook of her neck, seemingly trying to gather his equilibrium, which she completely understood because she was struggling to do the same.

  Finally, he lifted his head and gazed down at her, the slow grin spreading across his face drowsy and full of male satisfaction. “Dieu, Addison, you are good in bed.”

  She smiled right back at him. The man was too irresistible. She could feel her defenses being breached, but couldn’t seem to stop her common sense from crumbling. “You’re no slouch, yourself, sugar. Nice. Really, really nice.”

  He reached up and opened the window over the bed. The crack was enough to cool the room slightly, but not cold enough to make them shiver.

  “Do you sleep with the window open a lot?”

  “Not here in New Orleans, but I did when I lived in Bayou Gravois.”

  She could hear the longing in his voice and Tally wondered how it would be to have such a connection to a place that the love for it was audible just in the sound of your voice. “You miss it?”

  “Yes, I do. I get back when I can. I’d love to take you there some day.”