He loved her to death.
And he wanted her to know it.
He stroked her cheek with his thumb and decided it was a crying shame he didn't have the gift of words. He wanted to say something smart and tender, to give the L-bomb a good intro. Except he just came up dry.
So he blurted out, with his typical lack of finesse, 'I love you.'
Marissa's eyes popped.
Oh, shit. Too much, too soon—
She threw her arms around his neck and held on hard, burying her head in his chest. As he wrapped his arms around her, and geared up to go full sap all over the place, voices drifted down the hall. Opening her door, he ushered her into the room, figuring they needed a little privacy.
As he took her to the bed and helped her lie down, he lined up all kinds of sissy words in his head, ready to romance it up. But before he could say anything, she grabbed his hand and squeezed so hard his bones bent.
'I love you, too, Butch.'
The words made him forget how to breathe.
Totally knocked out, he sank down to his knees next to the bed and had to smile. 'Now, why you want to go and do that, baby? I'd figured you as a smart female.'
She laughed softly. 'You know why.'
'You pity me?'
'Because you are a male of worth.'
He cleared his throat. 'I'm really not.'
'How can you say that?'
Well, let's see. He'd been canned from Homicide for busting the nose of a suspect. He'd fucked mostly whores and lowlifes. Shot and killed other men. Then, yeah, there was that former cokehead shit and the current and persistent Scotch sucking. Oh, and did he mention he'd been sort of suicidal since his sister's murder all those years ago?
Yup, he was worth something. But only a trip to a landfill.
Butch opened his mouth, about to spill the beans, but then stopped himself.
He rubbed his thumb over her flawless cheek. 'I want to kiss you. You feel like letting me?'
As she hesitated, he couldn't say he blamed her. Last time they'd been together had been a mess with his body kicking out that nasty stuff and her brother walking in. Plus she was clearly tired now.
He pulled back. 'I'm sorry-'
'It's not that I don't want to be with you. I do.'
'You don't have to explain. And I'm happy to just be around you, even if I can't—'
'I'm holding back because I'm afraid I'll hurt you.'
Butch smiled fiercely, thinking if she ripped his back to shreds hanging on tight, that was perfectly fine with him. 'Doesn't matter if I get hurt.'
'It matters to me.'
He started to get up. 'That's sweet of you. Now, listen, I'll just bring you up some—'
'Wait.' Her eyes glowed in the dimness. 'Oh… God, Butch… Kiss me.'
He stilled. Then sank back down to his knees. 'I'll take it easy. I promise.'
Leaning into her, he put his mouth on hers and brushed her lips. Good Lord, she was soft. Warm. Shit… he wanted in. But he wasn't going to push.
Except then she grabbed on to his shoulders and said, 'More.'
Praying for control, he stroked her mouth once again, then tried to ease back. She followed, keeping them linked… and before he could stop himself, he ran his tongue across her lower lip. With an erotic sigh, she opened herself and he had to slide inside, couldn't possibly turn down the opportunity to penetrate her.
As she tried to get even closer to him, he moved his torso up on the bed, pressing his chest into her. Which was not such a hot idea. The way her breasts absorbed his weight set off a five-alarm fire in his body, reminding him just how desperate a man could be when he had his woman horizontal.
'Baby, I should stop.' Because in another minute he was going to have her under him with that dress yanked up around her hips.
'No.' She slipped her hands under his jacket and slid it off of him. 'Not yet.'
'Marissa, I'm getting raw here. Fast. And you don't feel well—'
'Kiss me.' She dug her nails into his shoulders, the sting cutting through his fine shirt in a series of delicious little flares.
He growled and took her mouth a hell of lot less gently.
Again, bad idea. The harder he kissed her, the harder she kissed back until their tongues were dueling and every muscle in him was twitching to mount her.
'I have to touch you,' he groaned, shifting his whole body up on the bed and swinging his leg over hers. He palmed her hip and squeezed, then moved his hand up onto her rib cage just below the swell of her breast.
Shit. He was so on the ledge right now.
'Do it,' she said into his mouth. 'Touch me.'
As her back arched, he took what she offered, capturing her breast, stroking it through the silk bodice of the gown. With a gasp, she put her hand over his, holding him tighter to her.
'Butch…'
'Oh, shit, let me see you, baby. Can I see you?' Before she could respond, he captured her mouth, but the way she met his tongue gave him his answer. He sat her up and started in on the buttons down the back of her gown. His hands were clumsy, but by some miracle the satin parted.
Except there were so many other layers to get through. Goddamn it, her skin… he had to get to her skin.
Impatient, aroused, fixated, he stripped the front of the gown off her, then pushed the straps of her slip down so that the pale silk pooled at her waist. The white corset that was revealed was an erotic surprise and he ran his hands all over it, feeling the structure of its bones and the warmth of her body underneath. But then he couldn't stand it any longer and all but tore the thing from her.
As her breasts were freed, her head fell back, the long, elegant lines of her neck and shoulders stretching out for him. Eyes on her face, Butch bent down to her and took one of her nipples with his mouth, suckling. Sweet heaven, he was going to come, she was so good. He was panting like a dog, already deranged from the sex, and they were nowhere near naked.
But she was right there with him, straining, hot, needy, her legs scissoring under her skirts. Man, this whole situation was spiraling out of control, a combustion engine turning over faster and faster with every second. And he was powerless to stop.
'Can I take this off you?' Shit, his voice was totally gone. 'This gown… the whole thing?'
'Yes…' The word was a groan, a frantic groan.
Unfortunately, the dress was a project and damn it, he didn't have the patience to keep working all those buttons in the back of it. He ended up bunching the floor-length skirt at her hips and drawing a pair of whisper-thin white panties down her long, smooth legs. Then he ran his hands up the insides of her thighs, parting them.
As she tensed up, he stopped. 'If you want me to back off, I will. In a heartbeat. But I just want to touch you again. And maybe… look at you.' When she frowned, he started to pull down the dress. 'It's okay—'
'I'm not saying no. It's just… oh, God… what if I'm unattractive there?'
Jesus, he could not comprehend why she'd ever worry about that. 'Not possible. I already know you how perfect you are. I've felt you, remember?'
She took a deep breath.
'Marissa, I loved the feel of you. I really did. And I have a beautiful picture of you in my mind. I just want to know the reality.'
After a moment, she nodded. 'All right… go ahead.'
Keeping their gazes locked, he swept his hand between her thighs and then… oh, yeah, that soft, secret
