wanted quite badly to remove the barrier between his tongue and her breast, but couldn’t form the words.
Threads of thought were all she had left. She took him in her hands and, even with only half of her brain functioning, managed to see his eyes go dark. And darker.
It wasn’t about power, but there was something incredibly arousing in realizing she had as much of it as he did.
Sensation rocked her from surface to fiery center. Hunger turned to need as his fingers moved inside her. The room and the night spiraled away. There was only Jacob now and the erotic things he was doing to her. With her.
He was beautiful, truly beautiful to behold. She had enough of her wits remaining to acknowledge that. Smooth flesh over sleek muscle and bone. Romana wrapped her legs around him, stared up into his eyes and knew, simply knew, this was right. It was good.
She held on to him, felt his hand leave her and his body rise up. The black lace vanished. He moved between her legs, bent to kiss her once more.
He drew the moment out, like a long, lovely note of music. Unwilling to wait another second, Romana closed her fingers around him and took him inside.
“Not going to live through this,” she murmured, then bit her lip around a sound that might have been a scream. She was wet and ready, and she matched his rhythm perfectly.
Something danced in her head as he drove himself inside her. A word, a feeling, pure wild sensation-she didn’t know or care. He filled her up, that was all that mattered. His hands and mouth touched and tortured her. But it was a delicious torture.
He surged against her and she swore, just for a moment, that her bones dissolved. And still she reached upward toward that exquisite peak.
Her nails bit into his shoulders. She squeezed her legs tighter, caught back a quick breath-then hovered, like a child on a roller coaster. Heart pumping, adrenaline flowing, flushed and breathless, waiting for the headlong rush.
It came in a burst of heat and a flash of light. The plunge through colored darkness that was her climax. And Jacob’s.
“Okay… Ah… That’s it.” She shook the hair from her face, felt the dampness of his skin against hers. “I can’t breathe. Can’t move. Might never think again.”
Jacob dropped his forehead onto hers. “It’s all about nature, isn’t it? Souls meeting, connecting, remembering.”
She managed a smile. “I gotta tell you, Knight, that’s a way more profound thought than I can form right now.”
“Spectacular sex must make me profound.”
“Only spectacular?” She blew at his hair, slid her arms around his neck and nipped his bottom lip. “Guess I’m losing my touch. I expected at least earth-shattering or maybe mind-numbing.”
“Believe me, Romana, I’m numb and shattered.”
“Me, too.” Her eyes twinkled and a laugh bubbled up. “But believe it or not, I’m also hungry.”
He couldn’t even lift his head to stare at her. “You’re joking. You want food?”
She teased him with her lips and eyes, feathered her fingers over his buttocks. “I didn’t say I wanted food, I said I was hungry.” Using her free leg and both of her hands, she switched their positions. “But this time, Detective Knight, I get to feed first.”
Chapter Thirteen
It was close to 3:00 a.m. by the time Jacob remembered, barely, to check in with the desk sergeant. Tying up loose ends was what he told her. Tying himself in emotional knots would have been closer to the truth.
If he loved Romana, and he might, he wasn’t ready to admit it yet. Not to her and certainly not to himself.
“Your father loves me, honey,” his mother used to whisper. “He loves you, too, he does. He just doesn’t always show it right. He has such a difficult job…”
Did that mean all police officers hit their wives? Even as a child, Jacob had had his doubts.
He hadn’t wanted to become a cop-no way, anything but. And yet there he’d stood after two short years of college, reading the forms, filling them out, wondering what kind of perverted inner demon was driving him to do this.
Eighteen years later, he still hadn’t figured it out.
He’d survived the training, done the job, climbed the ladder. There was more waiting for him, a great deal more if he wanted it. Harris had been trying to push him to the next rung for the past two years.
To the same rank his father had achieved before he’d lost it.
The clock chimed twice in the square below. That would make it three-thirty. He should be out there now, following leads, talking to informants, picking apart airtight alibis. Instead, he was sitting in an ancient armchair with his feet propped up on a wine crate, drinking merlot, staring at the city lights and trying very hard not to think about the woman curled up in the bed behind him.
They’d had sex, they hadn’t made love. He couldn’t accept anything so vast yet. The word overwhelmed him. As for the feeling, well…
He drank more merlot, heard a whisper of sound and set his head on the back of the chair. “I thought you were asleep.”
“I was. Now I’m awake.”
She stayed on the bed, and it took every scrap of Jacob’s restraint not to turn around. Seeing Romana naked had fired a need inside that he hadn’t realized existed. And the firing had been nothing more than a point of commencement.
He raised the bottle. “I have wine.”
“Yes, I see that.”
She didn’t sound angry, but then she wouldn’t be. Curious maybe, a little guarded and certainly intrigued, but not upset.
Reluctant amusement tugged on his lips. “You’re going to use silence to make me talk, aren’t you?”
When the bed creaked, desire turned lethal. “Actually,” she said, “I’m hoping the wine will do that for me.” He caught the deliberate shrug in her tone. “Or we could have more sex. Your choice.” Her fingers slid through his hair. “You can talk to me or not, just feed my female vanity and make me believe you want me. Again.”
Okay, he wasn’t dead, he wasn’t drunk and he sure as hell wasn’t made of stone.
Whipping a hand around, he tumbled her into his lap.
He wore only his jeans. She wore nothing but skin, and miles of dark, silky hair.
Brushing it from her face, he let his gaze roam over her features. “I want you, you know I do. I’ve shown you twice already.”
“Guess that makes me a glutton, then.” She bit his earlobe. “Whatever it makes me, show me again.”
She might be a glutton, he reflected, capturing her mouth in a hot, wicked kiss, but only for punishment. He just prayed he wouldn’t be the one meting it out.
When he raised his head, she sighed. “You’re so sure you’re going to hurt me, aren’t you, when I’ve already gone way past believing that’s possible.”
His lashes fell to shield his eyes. “How do you know…”
She stopped him with a kiss. “Later, okay? I want you, and I think,” she wriggled against him, “you want me.” Her eyes sparkled in the soft glow from the street. “Third time’s lucky, Detective Knight.”
“O’KEEFE DIDN’T SAY A WORD.” Romana held up her right hand. “I swear. All he talked about was you and Canter as rookie officers-bet you were cute in uniform-and how much he misses his daughter.”
Jacob shook the last drops of wine into her glass. “So you’re telepathic, then?”
“I wish, but, no, not that either.” Reaching over, she tapped a finger to his mouth and stage-whispered, “You talk in your sleep.”
He stared for several incredulous seconds. “Are you serious?”
