by Debra Webb
He inhaled deeply, drawing in their commingled breath. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but thought better of it and sealed his mouth over hers instead.
His kiss was slow, thorough and deep. It went on and on until she was gasping for air. When he at last drew back, his ragged breath fanned her lips making them burn for more of him. She buried her fingers in his thick hair and dragged it loose, then leaned back to admire him, but he had other plans. He pulled her mouth back up to his and nipped her lower lip with his teeth. His tongue slid along the seam of her lips and she opened. He invaded her so completely, closed his arms around her and held her so tightly against him that she felt a part of him, no longer separate.
Her fingers found their way to his shirt. She peeled it off those broad shoulders. He stood then, pulling her up with him. She felt his weight shift from one foot to the other as he toed off his socks. She pushed the shirt down his arms until it dropped to the floor. The shoulder holster went next. His hands and lips left her long enough for him to shed his T-shirt. Alex gasped when her palms flattened on his bare chest. She smoothed her hands over that sculpted terrain, learning every square inch of him. The sparse blond hair sprinkled there created a delicious friction. He was so beautifully made.
He caught the hem of her T-shirt and dragged it up and over her head, baring her body to him save for the skimpy panties that did little to conceal the part of her that ached so fiercely for him. The look of awe he wore gave her the courage to hold still until he’d had his fill of looking. Slowly, as if he feared she would bolt and run, he reached for her. His hand closed over her breast. Her eyes drifted shut and she allowed the sensations to wash over her. She felt the brush of his hair just before his mouth covered her taut nipple.
He sucked hard. She cried out. Dropping to his knees, he turned his attention to her other breast, licking, nibbling and sucking until she thought she would lose her mind. Her fingers speared into his silky hair and encouraged him.
He dragged her panties down her legs as his skillful mouth made a path down her abdomen. He teased her belly button with his tongue, while his hands glided up her thighs, over her rib cage, then traced down the length of her spine until those magic fingers taunted the sensitive cleft of her buttocks. Alex gasped. She threw back her head and cried out when his mouth moved lower still. He ushered her back onto the edge of the bed, his hands and his mouth never leaving her body.
Her whole being throbbed in time to the dance of a distant crescendo of sensations. He tasted her intimately, greedily. She moaned loud and long, her fingers fisting in the rumpled sheets. With every stroke of his tongue she edged closer and closer to the climax already sending little ripples along her feminine walls. He squeezed her buttocks, his tongue going deeper inside her.
She came hard and fast.
While the quakes of completion still rocked through her, he kissed his way back up her torso, lingering in all the right places. Weak from the explosion of senses, she fumbled for the closure to his jeans, desperate to touch him. He was looming over her now, half on, half off the bed, his mouth still torturing her breasts.
She eased the zipper down and pushed her hands inside his jeans. He was incredibly hard, smooth and pulsing. Her fingers molded around him, making her ache to have him inside her. Unable to wait, she shoved his jeans and briefs down over his hips at the same time that he planted a trail of kisses up the column of her throat. Using one foot, she pushed his jeans to his ankles.
She stroked the length of him. He groaned and drew away from the sensitive flesh he’d been plundering. He looked directly into her eyes, then he kissed her hard on the mouth. His tongue plunged into her mouth, filling her with the taste of hot sex and fierce male hunger. He wrapped one hand around her waist and pulled her against him as if she weighed nothing at all. The feel of his thick, satiny arousal against her tingling feminine flesh made her shiver. He climbed onto the bed, bringing her up to the mound of pillows. He placed her there as carefully as if she were of the most fragile glass, then kicked his jeans the rest of the way off.
Those blue eyes were alive with light and he worshiped her with that brilliant gaze. He kissed her chin, her nose and then each closed lid. When she opened her eyes to him again he held her gaze, his own fiery with desire. He kneed her thighs apart and positioned himself there. His tip nudged her. She arched into him, wanting. When he held back she grabbed him by the waist and tried to pull him to her. Still he resisted. She started to protest, but he silenced her with his mouth, kissing her until she whimpered with renewed need.
Finally, dear God, finally, he sank slowly, so very, very slowly into her. The drag of his male hardness along her supersensitive feminine walls produced an instant explosion. He held her body still with his own when she wanted to squirm and buck beneath him. The flood of sensations this time was overpowering, mind-blowing. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. She could only feel.
The rhythm began too slowly, and not until every last ripple of fulfillment had subsided within her. She wanted to scream. She needed to touch him. To feel every part of him. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his and her palms molded to his awesome chest. Her nipples stung with the pleasure he had wrought upon them and the anticipated feel of his bare flesh against those jutting peaks. Her body felt at once sated and needy. She couldn’t get enough of him. She wanted more, and then some more after that.
She tried hard to focus on the feel of his skin, the intent expression on his face, but it was no use. He was pulling her into that vortex of pure sensation all over again with his rhythmic pumping. His pace increased, she felt him pulse inside her. His fingers fisted in the pillow on either side of her head as climax roared through him, drawing yet another one from her. She screamed with the strength of it. He kissed her, drinking in her cry of release.
Long minutes later, when their breathing had slowed, he held her close. Their skin was slick with perspiration. Neither of them spoke. There were no words that could adequately describe what they had just shared.
Even after the intense emotions and sensations were long gone, Alex knew deep in her heart that she had not made a mistake.
Making love with Mitch Hayden could never be considered a mistake. She snuggled closer to him and closed her eyes, at last allowing the clawing exhaustion to take her.
DAWN BROUGHT reality crashing down around Mitch.
God Almighty, what had he done?
He pressed his forehead against the cool tile wall and allowed the spray of water to flow over his back. What the hell had he done? He’d lost control and had sex with Alex. A suspect…a witness. He swore. And what made it worse was that it hadn’t been just sex. He’d made love to her. Touched her the way he’d yearned to since the first time he laid eyes on her. Then he’d held her in his arms for the rest of the night. Held her close to his heart.
He was a fool.
He straightened and scrubbed the water and wet hair from his face. After slipping from her bed this morning, he’d sat for almost an hour and simply looked at her. Her silky black hair was fanned over her pillow. Her satiny thighs, creamy shoulders and delicate arms bared by the rumpled sheet that covered nothing but her torso and hips. Those lush, apple-red lips were swollen by his kisses.
He grew aroused at just the thought of her welcoming body. Mitch forced himself to put those thoughts out of his head and to go through the ritual of cleansing. He had to get his head on straight here. Talkington had another body. Mitch couldn’t be sure what made him believe it might be the Bukovak girl, but Talkington wouldn’t have mentioned her if he hadn’t thought the possibility a strong one. Mitch didn’t look forward to telling Alex. She was so sure that Gill had nothing to do with the girl’s disappearance.
His lawman instincts warned him not to take Alex’s conclusions too lightly.
But, he reminded himself, the facts would speak for themselves. Dental records would identify the girl. With the Bukovak girl’s records readily available since she was already list
ed as missing, it wouldn’t take long to find out one way or another.
Mitch stepped out of the shower and hastily dried himself off. He looped the towel around his waist and decided to forego a shave this morning. He was already running late.
“Good morning.”
Alex stood propped in the open doorway watching him with blatant interest. She looked as if she’d been there awhile. She also looked as sexy as hell wearing his shirt and, from all appearances, nothing else.
“Morning.”
“Mind if I shower next?”
He sidestepped, clearing the way for her. “Not at all.” Maybe he’d shave after all.
While she grabbed a towel and hung it over the shower door, he wiped the steam from the mirror. He watched her lithe movements in the sweating glass. Memories of touching her and tasting her flicked in rapid succession in his mind. She shucked the shirt and he stilled. Seeing her slender body made him ache with renewed need, but the slowly fading bruises on her back enraged him. The idea of someone hurting her made him want to tear something apart with his bare hands. She stepped into the shower and closed the door. He squeezed his eyes shut and released a labored breath.
The sound of the water running forced his eyes open and his attention back to his reflection. The man staring back at him wasn’t as smart as he should be. He damned well wasn’t thinking straight, that was for sure. But, one way or another, whether he ever solved this case, he would not allow anyone to hurt Alex again. If anyone tried, he’d make sure it was the last thing he ever did.
MITCH STRUGGLED to keep his attention on the briefing Dixon presented. They still didn’t have anything. Both Miller’s and Alex’s cars were clean. Except for the drugs, there was nothing out of the ordinary at all. And no prints, other than Miller’s and Alex’s. There was an extra set of tire tracks at the scene that didn’t belong to either of their vehicles, but the particular type of tires was far too common to be of any real assistance.
Talkington was going to call Mitch as soon as he had determined if the Jane Doe they’d found was Marija Bukovak. He had opted not to tell Alex until he knew for sure.
Leaning back in his chair, he glanced toward Dixon’s office where Alex was talking with a waitress who’d served Alex at the diner on several occasions. Her name had been in Alex’s casebook. Mitch had insisted that anyone she wanted to talk to come to the office since he didn’t want Alex out of his sight. A line of frustration formed across his brow when he considered the missing pages from her casebook. He’d scoured his backyard early that morning and hadn’t found anything. If it weren’t for the fresh scratches on her arm he’d still be inclined to believe she’d imagined the whole thing. But the scratches were real. Just like the fading bruises on her body. And the concussion that had helped to steal her memory.
“Earth calling Sheriff Hayden,” Roy taunted.
Mitch jerked to attention. He frowned. “Did I miss something?”
“Only about the last ten minutes or so,” Dixon quipped, fighting a grin.
Annoyed, Mitch exhaled loudly and straightened in his chair. He had to stop obsessing about Alex. “If it was important, repeat it, if it wasn’t, get the hell out of here and find me a witness somewhere who saw or heard something that’ll give us a lead. There has to be somebody.”
Willis and Roy exchanged knowing grins. Dixon glowered at first one and then the other.
His irritation mushrooming, Mitch threw up his hands. “Am I missing something else?” He dared one of them to say one wrong word.
“Nope, that’s it.” Dixon shoved to his feet. He flashed a pointed look at his two junior deputies. “We’ve got our orders, boys. Let’s get moving.”
Mitch gritted his teeth as the men filed out of his office. If he thought for one second that Roy was stirring up rumors, he would kick his butt. Jumping him about it wouldn’t be the best move, however. Roy would just assume that his suspicions about Mitch and Alex were right. And Mitch sure as hell didn’t want that.
Even if they were true.
“HEY, STELLA, you’re looking good today.”
Alex looked up, startled as well as annoyed, at Roy Becker. He’d stuck his head through the open doorway, effectively stalling her questioning of Stella Cramer. Not to mention the guy gave Alex the willies for some reason. There was something about his eyes. A needle of fear pricked her.
“Roy.” Stella smiled and batted her ultralong lashes. “How are you this morning?”
“Just fine, Stel, just fine.” He openly surveyed her long legs, expertly displayed by her miniskirt. “You planning on dropping by the club tonight?”
“You bet.” She smoothed a hand over her miniscule halter-top. “My favorite band’ll be there and it’s Friday. A girl can’t stay home on a Friday night.”
Roy gave her a two-fingered salute. “See you then.” He nodded to Alex, then disappeared. She shuddered inwardly, glad he was gone. Maybe it was that good old boy mentality that disturbed her. She glanced at Stella. Or, more likely, it was that macho attitude. Whatever it was, she didn’t like the guy, not one little bit.
Stella didn’t turn back to Alex until Roy was completely out of sight.
“The club?” Alex asked, curious about any hangouts Marija might have frequented.
“Yeah, the Down Under. You know music, dancing, drink.” She waggled her eyebrows. “And lots of hunky guys.”
“Did you ever see Marija Bukovak there?”
Stella considered the question for a couple seconds. “Yeah, once or twice.” She shrugged. “Since all the cops and preppy guys from the college hang out there, most girls hit that place from time to time.”
“Roy goes there?” Alex wasn’t sure what made her ask about Roy, but she had to know.
Stella grinned. “All the time.”
After Stella had gone Alex studied her notes. She’d already checked in with Victoria. Anything to keep her thoughts away from Mitch Hayden. Even the echo of his name inside her head made her tremble. She was walking a tightrope here. She knew better. Though some of her memory might be misplaced, she knew better than to get involved with a player in a case. And Sheriff Hayden was definitely a player.
“Got a minute?”
The deep, sexy voice belonging to the subject of her reverie jerked her back to the here and now.
Alex produced a smile and struggled to ignore her body’s instant awareness of his. “Sure. What’s up?” She’d seen Mitch—there she went again calling him by his first name—meeting with the deputies working the homicide case. Somehow he always managed to work it where she wouldn’t be around for their discussions. But he eventually filled her in—at least on the parts he wanted her to know.
Mitch sat down on the edge of Dixon’s desk and settled that unnervingly intense gaze on hers. She didn’t miss the slight softening. Could last night have affected him the way it did her? Probably not. But the mutual awareness was there.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but Marija Bukovak’s body has been found.”
Every ounce of emotion drained from her. She felt cold and numb. “Where?”
“Just outside Nashville.” Mitch looked away briefly before continuing. “The M.O.’s Gill’s. Talkington is pretty sure he did her.”
Fury detonated inside Alex, burning away the numbness, replacing it with outrage. “I don’t believe that.”
Mitch blew out an impatient breath. “The evidence is pretty irrefutable. There was one thing about Gill’s victims that wasn’t released to the press.”
Alex grew still…her stomach suddenly feeling queasy. “What’s that?”
“He took a souvenir from each victim. A copycat wouldn’t have known exactly what to take. It had to be Gill.”
Alex lunged to her feet. “I want to see her. I want to go to the scene.” She looked directly into Mitch’s eyes. “And then I want to talk to Gill again.”
Mitch stood, his fists clenched at his sides to hold back the mixed-up emotions twisting inside him. “No way.�
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“Then I’ll speak to Talkington myself. I’m sure I can convince him to see reason.” She hadn’t missed the TBI agent’s flirting. She felt certain she could persuade him.
Fury streaked through those sky-blue eyes. “I’ll place you under arrest and lock you in a cell first.”
“Zach will have me out within hours,” she threatened.
Mitch shrugged, his gaze suddenly masked. “Fine. But then you’ll miss the meeting with Phillip and Nadine. I’m going over now to inform them of the news. If you’d had any questions, now would have been the time. But I guess that’s out since I’m going to have to incarcerate you.”
He played dirty.
He knew how much she wanted that opportunity. Alex quickly regrouped her priorities. “That won’t be necessary, Sheriff,” she said pointedly. “As long as you agree to allow me an appointment with Talkington to discuss the autopsy and crime scene findings.”
One of those half smiles played with one corner of his mouth. “Done. Now, come on. We’ll stop for lunch on the way.”
PHILLIP AND NADINE MALLOY lived in an ostentatious ranch-style country estate that alluded to their high standing in the community. They owned the land as far as the eye could see around their lovely home. When one arrived in the circular drive, a feeling of welcome was immediately experienced. But entering the stately home was an altogether different matter.
Cold yet elegant decor greeted visitors with a feeling of “don’t touch.” The housekeeper had shown Mitch and Alex to a pristine white—walls, carpet and furnishings—great room. The Malloys made their grand entrance a full five minutes later.
Phillip was a distinguished man in his mid-fifties. Alex could see a trace of resemblance between Mitch and Phillip, who was his uncle on his mother’s side. Both men were handsome, tawny-haired and blue-eyed. Phillip proved even more charming than his nephew.
Nadine, however, was another story. She was cold and standoffish, clearly furious that Alex had been allowed to be a part of this meeting. The woman struck Alex as fiercely protective of her family. Her tight chignon and severely conservative attire made her look as untouchable as the interior of her home.