by Cera Daniels
Both men looked grateful for something to do, their pointless argument dissolving as Amanda curled into a ball. Jay gripped Ryan's shoulder before slipping from his office.
One . . .
Lilah ducked past his brothers to deliver a cold, wet cloth and was the last to leave, closing the office door with a soft click.
Two . . . Damn it, Romeo, what did you do?
The quiet sanctuary of the room normally soothed him. Without distractions, his ability locked onto restless movement against supple leather, uneasy breathing, and her frenetic heartbeat. Ryan slid the compress over Amanda's forehead and willed her to wake. She shivered.
Three—
"Ryan." A barely-there, pleading croak and Amanda's eyelids fluttered open. Blue eyes stared up at him, hazed with vulnerability.
He lost count.
Sliding to his knees at the same moment she reached for him, Ryan wrapped his arms around her and bundled her quaking body to his chest. Her nose bumped his throat, shocking him with cold as she settled into the embrace. He tightened his grip. Why was she so cold? He pressed light, comforting circles along her spine and she rubbed her cheek against his tie. Ryan had no notion of how long they sat like that, Amanda seeking his warmth and comfort, but by the time her body temperature stabilized and her breathing evened out, he didn't want to let her go.
Her lips arched in a tired curve. "Well, this is embarrassing. I don't think I'll be drinking coffee again soon."
"It wasn't the coffee." Ryan summoned a reassuring smile as he eased her back onto the couch. He dropped back into a chair and pushed a glass of water into her palm. "Is your blood sugar low? What did you eat today?"
"Plenty. It could have been stress. I haven't slept much the past few days." She took a swig of water.
"Exhaustion could account for your chill." Guilt slammed into his chest for Klepto's role in her lack of rest, but Ryan couldn't take his eyes off the long, creamy expanse of her throat.
She passed him the glass and pulled the compress from her forehead. "How's the plan coming?"
Down, but never out. Always thinking. His sexy little warrior-cop didn't have an off-switch.
Greedy desire spiraled over his cock and Ryan stood to pace. This was hardly the time to press his luck. "Jay and Zach are finishing up."
One leg swung over the side of the couch in her attempt to rise, but possessiveness riddled with protective instinct brought Ryan forward. She had to slow down enough to recover. He intercepted her foot midair, then joined her on the cushions and draped her calves over his thighs.
"What are you doing?" She tried to tug her leg free, a move that only helped him slip off her boots.
He removed her socks too, continuing, "Lieutenant Dale will have a full task force present at the event tomorrow." He kneaded slow circles into the balls of her feet. "Our maintenance staff and security team is working overtime to get more cameras on the premises. If this guy shows up, we'll be ready for him."
"That feels incredible." Amanda succumbed to his touch with a groan that made him think of deeper, harder seductions.
Knock it off. She needs time to rest.
"You worry too much. It takes a toll," he murmured, working stronger patterns over the tense arch of one foot. This woman had even worried about him, had come to McLelas Financial concerned for his life. On one hand, he could count the number of people who would do the same. "We'll get this guy, Amanda."
She smiled. "As much as I adore you for the undeserved pampering, you need to let me up."
"Adoration? I accept." He threw her a playful grin and dug his thumbs into the arch of her other foot. "I knew you'd come around eventually."
She groaned again, her muscles going lax under his ministrations. "We're not going to stop him with me lying here."
"We aren't setting up the banquet hall until tomorrow afternoon. VIPs are on lockdown tonight, so he won't get near them. The fundraiser doesn't start until dusk. In the meantime, I suggest an early night. Sleep."
She'd need it, thanks to Shiv. Their dawn appointment with Murphy had to happen; the plan was still on. Ryan redoubled his efforts, moving the massage over her heels. Amanda let him continue. A good sign. He looked up, locking onto bright, shimmering blue eyes. Her lips formed a moue that begged for his kiss. Ryan's massage skills faltered with the thought, rest now the furthest thing from his mind. Heat gnawed at him, raging, demanding in an instant, pulsing against his supernatural ability. Her breaths came in shallow gulps and her heartbeat accelerated in his ears. Luscious invitation. An echo of his own needs.
Ryan stilled, latching on to the promising signals, his hands wrapped around her ankles. Amanda quickly turned her head. Her pulse clicked along at a normal pace, her breathing even.
Had he imagined her arousal? It'd figure. Around Amanda, he had no brain.
She pinched the bridge of her nose and bent her knees again. "Let me up, Ryan."
Regretfully, he lowered her feet to the carpet and handed over her footwear. "If it's about the lists, I can assure you my brothers will take care of it."
"I believe you." Amanda had her boots on in moments. She met his gaze with regret of her own. "It's just, I don't have time to sleep."
"Why?"
She bit her lip and Ryan's whole body homed in on the point of contact. He wanted his teeth there, his lips covering hers, sharing a breath, a single sensual moment. Hundreds of moments. He couldn't stop with one. No, she wouldn't walk out that door without a kiss.
"I have to be seen." She dug her fingertips into the fabric of her slacks, lowering her head. Honey-brown hair hid her expression from view. "If there are more murders tonight, I need a cover, people to vouch for me right up to curfew."
A punch to the gut.
"You're talking about an alibi." He covered her hands with one of his and tipped her chin toward him with a finger. "You can't possibly be telling me someone thinks you killed all those people."
"I shouldn't be telling you anything." She gave him a tremulous little smile. "Dale thinks this is an inside job. I have an unaccounted-for service weapon, so that puts me on the suspect list. The only reason no one's come for me yet is Dale's been keeping them busy. I need to be able to alibi out."
"The killer is using a cop's gun?" Son of a bitch. Not two feet from them, Ryan had her gun locked up in his hidden safe. He jolted to standing, every cell in his body in violent rejection of her inclusion on a most wanted board. How could he protect her from her own people? "They'd never be able to pin this on you."
"A prosecution on the warpath can make anything plausible. I've been benched for months. All they need to do is prove I've been desperate for more action or insinuate that I decided to take matters into my own hands. My rather public dismissal could even give them my motive for escalation against cops, Ryan." She stood, reaching for her coat. "It's dicey, but if I get witnesses the issue might disappear."
Ryan lifted the jacket away from her fingers, returned it slowly to the chair. "Stay."
The lightning-fast look of want she shot his way, buried in a hurry by disbelief, was encouragement enough.
"Stay with me. Let me be your alibi." He cupped her cheeks between his palms. "Everyone saw us this afternoon. They won't question a night."
Please, say yes.
"You don't have to risk your reputation for me." Her hands closed around his forearms, her eyes searching, searching. Then, the last tiny, defensive chips of ice-blue melting, burned away by flames of desire, blooming with smoldering appeal.
"You're worth it." As long as she stayed in his arms, right here, right now, he honestly couldn't give a damn about covers and reputations. To be on the same page . . . "I swear to you, that's not a line. Please. Will you—?"
"Kiss me." His detective's full, tantalizing lips parted in invitation and Ryan moved at the same time, a long, drugging caress of sleek, velvet heat.
Molten need.
Heaven help him, the blaze he remembered had dimmed with memory.
> Except this round with his detective was no mindless mating of tongues, but a kiss of pure intent, potent as sex itself.
Amanda burrowed into his embrace, her nails tracing over fabric and along his abs as she met his lust with equal fervor. Honey-dipped hair bunched in his fingers.
He'd never before enjoyed the taste of coffee, but the lingering strains on this woman's lips became a springboard for all things carnal. Images of what he could do with an evening alone with her flooded his mind and edged into the kiss, beckoning, promising, rejoicing that she wanted him in return. One of his hands slid over her shoulder, down her side, pressing her tight against him.
Slim fingers cruised over his chest and he smiled against her lips. Amanda popped one button, then another, and from the way her tongue sought his in a deeper kiss—desperate, hard, commanding—he knew she didn't intend to stop.
Dear lord, she'd better not stop.
Ryan flicked his tongue against hers, taunting, playing, then kneaded his fingers over the nape of her neck. His other hand inched up the back of her shirt, finding smooth, warm skin to welcome his touch. He hauled in a wild breath and ran his fingers up her spine.
Chocolate and caramel and coffee.
She was every delicious sinful flavor wrapped in flesh, and he craved more.
"Amanda," he murmured against her lips.
She melted into him, baring his chest with a grand sweep of her hands before wrapping her arms tight around his waist.
"No wonder you have them lining up down the street." She broke the kiss a fraction, her words a ragged whisper. Her eyes brightened with pleasure.
He kissed the teasing corner of her turned-up lips. "And here I thought they were all after my wallet."
Or maybe the blessed, blessed 3-pack of condoms Jay had jokingly snuck into it before lunch.
"Just your lips, that's all," she said with a grin she couldn't hide. A wiggle of her hips. "Nothing else."
A laugh bounced from his chest. "Minx."
He bracketed her body with his arms, walking her backward toward his desk. Tossing his glasses onto the top, he pressed a button for the sound system. It kicked on with a delicious, smooth saxophone, low strains of jazz and a singer's voice as tempting and lush as Amanda's to his heightened sense of sound.
She smirked at him and leaned back on her hands. "Ella Fitzgerald?"
"What can I say? I like fast cars and slow jazz." He ran his hands up her sides with a smile. "Don't tell anyone."
"Ryan McLelas has secrets?" A mock gasp he wanted very much to make real, then her hands finished the work they'd begun and shoved his shirt and jacket off his shoulders. She tipped up her chin, her eyes glittering with play. "I like donuts."
"Coffee and donuts? Bordering on cliché, Detective." He kissed the smirk off her lips.
His palms weren't touching enough skin. That cursed sweater had played in his mind since lunch.
No more.
Her top went somewhere across the room, and every drop of his blood went south in approval. White lace and creamy satin curved over full breasts and unabashed, tight peaks like icing. Ryan wanted all of her at once. Did she taste like sin everywhere? Would she let him find out?
Better still, would she ask him to?
Lust zipped through him with the breakneck speed and power of an express rail car.
"Hot chocolate, not coffee." Her hand rolled over his shoulder and gave an insistent tug.
Closer.
Ryan knew his smile was wickedness personified, the mood reflected in her eyes. His hands cradled her hips and he lowered his head to kiss along the entrancing scar along her cheekbone. Goosebumps popped over her arms.
"You drank coffee earlier." He moved down to the satin, breathing warmth over her breast.
"I was . . . conned," she managed to gasp as his tongue stroked over one pert nipple and she arched like a bow.
Her hands went to his hair, delicate fingers tugged at the strands. The earthy croon of a bass clarinet slid through his filters and cranked the heat in the room up a dozen degrees. Ryan nuzzled her breast with his chin, the brush of his five o'clock shadow over sensitive skin making her hips jerk in his grasp.
He nipped at her skin and she moaned his name.
Ryan left sense and reason behind, and Amanda wasn't far behind. Fingers tangled on buttons, hooks, zippers. No more barriers. Just skin. Finally, finally skin—every beautiful, glorious inch of exposed Amanda. Past coaxing, past thinking, he dropped onto the wide seat of his office chair, and pulled her on top.
Hot little kisses danced across his skin. He rolled on the condom as her heartbeat sang in his ears, daring his to follow. Amanda's fingernails sank into the coarse leather back of the chair. The supple length of her neck, just over her pulse, tasted of sweet, urgent hunger. She squirmed on top of him and her hands found his shoulders, clung tight.
"Now, Ryan." A hot little demand to go with more of those hot little kisses. "Please, now."
Ryan lifted his hips, eager and demanding. Amanda shamelessly countered the thrust and his erection buried to the hilt inside his detective. She rocked forward with a cry as desperate for him as his cock was for its own taste.
"Amanda," he groaned.
Chocolate and caramel and unquenchable craving.
Fast, hard, needy, a pulsing rhythm caught hold and drove them together. Golden hair lashed his cheek. Excited gasps and kisses worked down his neck, across his shoulder, over his bicep, on and on with each grinding clash of their bodies. Ryan drowned in her exploration, his ability pulled under the riptide of passion. His fingers rubbed tiny, frantic circles over her lower back, driving them higher, tighter, hotter with each stroke.
Amanda dug in her nails.
He went up like a roman candle.
"Oh, God."
Ryan wasn't sure which one of them shouted first.
Release struck glittering bright, an inferno burning every bit as volatile as the one they'd escaped days before. Heavy, gasping breaths of spent pleasure caressed his power like the rippling aftershocks of her heat around his shaft.
"Amanda." He stroked his thumbs over her naked backside.
"Mmm?"
"Still just here for my lips?" He knew his smile matched the one that curved against his chest. Nudging her forehead with a light kiss, he added before he could think, "Come home with me."
The condo. His gut tightened, but it seemed fantastic sex sent his internal dread-meter offline. The nausea that usually attacked at the thought of his place—the virulent fear of being somewhere too far away to help his brothers—stayed dormant this time.
He blamed it on the lure of an entire night spent with Amanda's high, firm, absolutely bitable breasts snug against his chest.
"You want more? After that? I can't move, Ryan," came the husky reply. She rubbed her head against his shoulder.
"God, yes. I want more." Ryan laughed and gave one hip a squeeze.
"How close is your bed?" With her hands feather-light and tickling over his abs, Amanda eased back on his lap. She tipped her head to the side with a sly smile. "And which car will you be driving to get there?"
"Clothes first. Then I'll show you our garage." He winked.
"Are you sure? I can't promise not to drool on the paint."
The way the corners of her eyes crinkled with glee made Ryan damn glad he could afford to maintain the fleet. He never thought he'd have her here, smiling, naked, his, agreeing to spend the night, and threatening his muscle car collection. All he could do was grin.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Few motor vehicles meant only "essential" roads were plowed for emergency services, and there weren't many en route to the condo. He couldn't push the Ford faster safely, but he had to get her indoors and in bed soon, because they'd both started to think again.
Chief in his mind, the fact that Murphy knew about Old Town, and Ryan needed that information. Klepto had to be at that meeting. So did Amanda. She couldn't be at the condo when Klepto came for her.
>
Chief in her mind, "You don't need glasses, do you?"
Ryan's whole body cringed. Sure enough, he'd left the useless frames on his desk. "It's a press thing."
"There aren't any cameras here." She peered over at him, her fingers tucked under her thighs. "Care to enlighten me?"
"When my father passed, I already had a reputation for charm." He smiled. "I came off irresponsible, even though I'd been working for my father in a negotiating capacity for years. I'd proven myself, but the stakeholders weren't happy. They threatened to bail with the changing of the guard unless I shaped up my image. Focus groups said I needed specs like my father. Made me more responsible, more trustworthy."
"Like nothing had changed."
"Change isn't always welcome in the business world."
"I'm glad you left them off tonight." She smiled, then stared out at the increasingly dense snow flurries. "Some of your charming repertoire is for the camera too, isn't it? Not just the flirting, either. You've been different with me, Lilah, your brothers. More . . . you."
He wasn't surprised by her perceptive words. Klepto wasn't the only mask he wore. Showing different sides to his audience was a well-practiced art form by now. He gave the public what they liked, shareholders what they wanted, business associates what they needed, and his brothers saw through to every truth except his personal demons—doubt, fear, failure, a sole regret. Amanda had worked her way through his defenses, stepping past his masks one by one. From the minute he'd first touched her, the flirting, the teasing, took on a new light. He wasn't pretending for the paparazzi, wasn't leering for show. He enjoyed sparring with her and craved her reactions. The game they played was theirs alone.
There'd be no public façade to hide behind in the bedroom. Just himself, real, freed from boardroom politics and social niceties.
"I guess you can't believe everything you see on TV," he said, flicking her a rueful grin.
"How much of it is truth, Ryan?"
Ryan bumped the windshield wipers up a notch. "You think too much."
"That's who I am." Her eyes caught a passing streetlight and gleamed with intensity. "Who are you?"