Needing Nita (3 page)

Before she knew what he intended, he scooped her up in his arms, giving her a heart-jolting demonstration of what those muscles could do.

“Which way to the bedroom?”

“Down that hall and to the left.” Her heart thundered so hard, she could hear it in her ears. Hell, he could probably hear it. Maybe even feel it.

She’d left a lamp burning by the bedside, so there was no need to fumble for light switches. She expected him to lay her on the bed and come down on her, crushing her to the mattress with his body. She wanted that desperately. Wanted him to forcibly drive every other thought from her mind with a ferocious onslaught. Instead, he set her back on her feet at the bed’s edge.

“God, you’re beautiful.” Catching her head, he fisted his hands in her hair and kissed her. The desperate edge of hunger was still there, but this time, the demand was subdued.

He was, she realized, putting control squarely in hands, giving her a chance to set the pace. Or maybe even to change her mind.

Oh, God, he hadn’t changed
his
mind, had he?

As if sensing her disquiet, he lifted his head a fraction, still holding her face close to his.

From this distance, his blue eyes seemed to see right through to her soul.

“Why did you call me?” he said.

The question took her aback. She touched her tongue to her upper lip in a gesture she hoped would distract him. “I should think that would be obvious by now.”

He smiled. “Honey, that was obvious from the first time we locked horns in the court room.”

“Thank you for reminding me. It must have been obvious for the jury, too. They gave

the edge to you.”

“You know what I mean,” he said, clearly unwilling to be deflected. “Why now? Why after all this time? Why after turning me down?”

“Because I got tired of fighting it. Because I had the most trite of epiphanies. Because life is short, and if I’m going to regret anything, I’d prefer to regret what I did, not what I didn’t do.” She tipped her chin up to look him in the eyes. “Is that good enough for you, Detective? Can we get on to the part where we’re naked?”

It must have been good enough, because seconds later, she found herself right where she’d yearned to be a minute ago, flat on her back in the center of her bed with Craig’s weight pinning her while he pillaged her mouth, her throat. And his hands! A large palm worked her right breast through her clothes, then skimmed down to grip her hip. With a groan, he moved over her, creating an unbearably delicious friction. When he started sliding down her body, her eyes snapped open? Surely he wasn’t….

He wasn’t.

He continued south to her boots, found the slide zippers and slid them off, one at a time, tossing them on the floor. She’d shrugged part way out of her jacket by the time he dispensed with her boots, and he helped her tug it off. The dress followed, over her head, then the lacy bra beneath.

“I knew it.” He sat back on his heels to look at her. “I just knew those nipples would be small and dark and just as gorgeous as the rest of you.”

Lying there with him looking at her like that, she felt gorgeous. “I did some imagining myself, but judging from the revelation I got when you took off your shirt, I might have … um … come up short.”

He laughed. “Time to find out how fertile your imagination was.”

He scooted off the bed, dug a condom from the front pocket of his jeans, then shucked the jeans, underwear and all.

Nita sucked in a breath. Jutting from a nest of dark hair, his cock was … magnificent. Her imagination hadn’t shortchanged him in the length department, but oh, baby, the girth!

And it was all hers.

She drew herself up on her elbows. “Are you going to bring that lovely thing over here, Detective, or do I have to come after it?”

He tossed her the condom. “Why don’t you come and get it?”

The heat in his eyes kicked the excitement in her belly up another notch. She scooted over until she sat on the edge of the bed. Gaze locked with his, she tore the wrapper off the condom. Then she dropped her gaze to his organ. Dear God, it was a thing of beauty. And the sooner she sheathed it, the sooner he could be inside her.

But first….

Craig steeled himself for her touch. The way her eyes had saucered at the sight of him damn near snapped his control. He was way too close to the edge for his liking. So why the hell had he tossed her the condom and invited her to put it on him?

Because you’re a masochist, Walker. Because it’s Nita. Because you still can’t believe you’re here and she wants you because
— oh, Jesus!

Her hands were on him now, small and soft and elegantly feminine, right down to the white tips of her French manicured nails. His cock jerked in response, hardening to stone. Then she leaned forward. He could feel her breath on him, warm and exciting and oh, God, if only she would open those gorgeous lips and—

Ahhhh!

Even as he fantasized about it, she guided the head of his cock into her mouth, sealing her lips delicately over the glans. A tortured groan escaped him. In response, she took more of him into her mouth. For a moment, his world shrank to a few square inches, encompassing nothing more than his cock and the hot, wet section of her mouth. It was so … damned … good.

Oh, hell,
too
good.

“Nita!” He tangled a hand in her hair. “You have to stop, baby. I don’t … I can’t….”

She released him. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. But—”

“I know. Now come closer so we can get this thing on you.”

He obliged, holding his breath as she applied the condom and rolled it down his shaft. The moment it was in place, she scooted back to the center of the bed. He followed her down, lying beside her. In a gratifying display of eagerness, she tried to pull him atop her.

“Soon, baby.” She might think she was ready, but with his fuse being this short, he needed her to be more than ready.

For all her eagerness to get to the main event, when he kissed her, she subsided, apparently content to enjoy the play of lips and tongue. And for all his eagerness to get inside her, he wanted this, too. He’d fantasized about kissing that smart mouth of hers since that first day in the witness box. And a hundred times since. He poured all of that frustrated yearning into the kiss. She took it all and demanded more.

When she grew restless again, he palmed her breast, drawing a gasp from her. When he drew his fingers together to gently pinch and roll her stiffened nipple, she caught fire, straining against him.

“Please, Craig. Now.”

“Soon, baby,” he promised, then swooped to catch her nipple in his mouth. She whimpered once, and again when he used his teeth. Oh, Lord, that sound! It shuddered right through him. He wanted to draw it from her again and again and again. Every night. All night.

Lust hazing his brain, he rolled her under him, letting their lower bodies tangle while keeping his upper body propped above her. She splayed her legs, making a cradle for his aching cock. As her hands roamed his chest feverishly, he gazed down at her breasts, her flushed neck, her face, wanting to memorize exactly what she looked like at this moment.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Something flickered in her eyes. Then she closed them, shutting him out even as she slid her hands around behind him to squeeze his ass. “Please.” She undulated beneath him. “I’m ready. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

He didn’t.

He entered her slowly, carefully, gritting his teeth against the urge to seat himself fully. Still, it wrenched a sob from her. He froze. “Nita?”

“Oh, God, don’t stop!”

He drew out and pushed in a little further. The hot, wet clasp of her flesh was pure madness, inviting him to let go of all restraint, but he didn’t dare. She was so small, so snug … so fucking
hot!

Despite himself, he rocked into her a little harder.

“Yes! Yes!” She arched up, trying to take more of him.

Control gone, he surged into her, burying himself to the hilt. She cried out again, but there was no mistaking her approval. Needing no further urging, he started to move against her, fucking her with along, slow strokes, pulling out almost all the way only to push home again. For long moments, there was nothing but sound of sex, the slap of flesh against flesh, the harshness of their breathing. His excitement rose higher, coiled tighter. When she begged for more, he gathered her close, switching to a grinding, purposeful, insistent rhythm. Beneath him, she made that whimpering sound again and angled her hips in an effort to maximize the friction against her clitoris. He thought about how she’d tasted in the elevator, how her legs had trembled when he’d licked and sucked that sweet bundle of nerves.

Ahh! Dammit, he shouldn’t have gone there.

“Oh, Christ, Nita. Come on with me, baby. Come for me.”

Even as he said it, he realized she didn’t need any urging. She was already flying apart, her internal muscles clamping him like a vise, rippling. He let go, pumping into her mindlessly until his climax exploded.

Chapter 3

Five minutes later, Nita stood under a hot spray of water in the shower.

While other women talked about afterglow, she’d never been able to lie more than in a minute in bed before needing to jump up and shower. She’d long ago stopped worrying about what that compulsion said about her and just accepted it. And it had suited the men she’d dated just fine. They usually took the opportunity to dress so they could kiss her goodbye when she emerged from the bathroom, and they both went to bed happy, each in their own homes.

But this time, with Craig Walker’s muscled arm slung across her midriff and one powerful leg still tangled with hers, she hadn’t wanted to pull away. She’d wanted to burrow closer. She wanted to touch his face, inhale the scent of his skin, feel the springy texture of his hair beneath her fingers. Hell, she wanted to crawl inside his skin.

Naturally, she’d immediately leapt up and headed for the bathroom.

What the hell was wrong with her?

What’s
wrong
with you, Reynolds? You’ve got a tumor in your head that will probably kill you, with or without surgery, in a matter of months, and you’re wondering what’s wrong with you because you wanted to be close to someone for a few minutes?

No, not
someone
. Craig Walker.

A draft of cool air warned her that she wasn’t alone in the bathroom any longer, so she was neither shocked nor startled when he drew back the shower curtain and stepped into the shower with her.
Yes
, she thought, stepping back to make room for him.
God, yes.

He reached for her and she went gladly into his arms, her flesh wet and giving against the solidity of his chest. He turned them so the shower spray beat down on his back and covered her mouth with his. And there it was again. She wanted to be under him, on him. Christ,
inside
him.

She wrenched her mouth away from his. “Were you counting on getting much sleep tonight, Detective?”

His grin was lethal. “Not if I can help it.”

“Good. Because I want to have you every way I can think of. I want you in every room, in every position, until we’re both too sore to do it again.”

He sucked in a deep breath. “Jesus, Nita.”

“Does that mean you’re up for it?”

He drew her hand down to his stiffened cock. “What do you think?”

She smiled. “I think we can scratch the bathroom off the list.”

“The tub enclosure, at least.”

Six hours later, Craig lay watching Nita sleep in his arms.

She hadn’t planned to fall asleep, but he’d convinced her to lie down with him while he drank some ice water, ate a slice of cold pizza, which they’d ordered at midnight, and generally recuperated from their last bout of sex.

Part of him was still expecting her to spring something on him that would explain his good fortune — a request for a highly improper favor or for confidential information on an investigation — but she’d scrupulously avoided anything work-related.

Instead, they’d exhausted the easy stuff during the earlier “intermissions”. They both shared a love of jazz, though she leaned more to contemporary and he more toward traditional. They now knew which three books and three albums the other would choose if they were stranded alone on a desert island, and there was actually some crossover. Her favorite actor was some guy he’d never heard of because he rarely saw movies these days, and he’d fessed up that he was still stuck on Kirstie Alley, thin, fat or in between, because she was beautiful. She detested football, hockey and basketball, but somehow had developed a love for baseball.

When the small talk petered out, she’d asked him about his family. He’d been in the process of telling her about his older sister when he realized she was sleeping, a fact that registered only when she rolled toward him and nestled her head on his shoulder.

So here he was, clinging to wakefulness. His eyes burned from lack of sleep, and his body was beyond exhausted, but no way was he going to sleep. As glorious as this night had been, these minutes with the warm, trusting weight of her tucked against his body were too precious to miss. Because as many times as they’d made love tonight, she’d never really let him hold her. Every time he tried to show her tenderness, she subtly redirected him.