Intimate Desires (The Love and Danger Series) (4 page)

Hannah thought about denying it, but in the end, she simply shrugged her shoulders, unable to reply at all.

Sam stood up but leaned over her desk.  “Think about it,” he offered. 

A moment later, she was alone.  And, boy, she was definitely thinking about it!

“Darn it!” she almost shouted.  The stupid jar wouldn’t open and she wasn’t in the mood to fight it.  Did she really want pickles that badl
y?  She looked at her cabinets, wondering if there was anything more interesting in their dark interiors that could take the place of pickles. 

The doorbell rang and she glared at the benign wood, irritated that she
couldn’t get one man’s sexy eyes out of her mind, and she couldn’t open a jar of pickles. 

Macy and Miley, her cats that thought they were pillows, lifted their heads slightly at the new sound, but didn’t really bother to move other than that. 

She glared at the cats with exaggerated irritation.  “I wanted guard kitties.  What did I get?”  She opened the door, thinking it was her mother coming over on one of her spontaneous “wine” nights.  “Lap kitties,” she started to say but her voice trailed off as she looked at the person standing in her doorway. 

Unfortunately, her mother wasn’t nearly as tall as the person standing in
front of her.  Nor was her mother as muscular.  And Hannah wasn’t positive, but she was fairly certain her mother had never looked so confused and amused at the same time as the man standing in her doorway. 

“Detective!” she gasped.  She looked down at her leggings and tee-shirt, wishing she’d pulled on something…sexier!  “
What are you doing here?  How did you find out where I live?”  She pulled her tee-shirt down as low as it would go, but that still didn’t cover her from the waist down. 

He lifted his hands, both of which contained a plastic bag with interesting boxes,
and her eyes were caught by his bulging biceps.  “I brought dinner.  I thought maybe I could ask you a few more questions.”

He’d
suggested tomorrow night!  Why was he here now?  She’d been trying to figure out how to answer him about Saturday night so this was definitely cheating.  He couldn’t show up a night before he’d suggested dinner! 

Hannah stared at the bags and her mouth started watering, although she wasn’t sure if that was because of the man or the food in the bags.  “Chinese?” she asked with reverence.  Chinese takeout was her
absolute favorite. 

“Kung
pao, sesame chicken, steamed dumplings, crispy spring rolls and crab Rangoon,” he enticed.  Even the cats perked up slightly.  Not enough to get up off of their chairs by the heater, but enough to show that they were alive. 

She looked down at her jar of pickles, then back at the bags.  When she looked up into those blue eyes, she almost whimpered with the decision she had to make. 

He laughed and stepped into her apartment, closing the door behind him.  “You’re not going to turn down hot Chinese food for a jar of pickles.  That’s just illegal.”

He moved past her, crowding her in the long, narrow hallway.  But when he was right in front of her, he stopped and looked down.  “By the way, I love the
pink tee-shirt.”  He winked and kept on walking.  He found her kitchen, which wasn’t too hard since there was only the small, galley kitchen, the den area and her bedroom. 

She looked down at her tee-shirt that was definitely too small and blushed again.  “Um…I should just go change,” she said awkwardly.

“Why?” he asked, his heated eyes moving up and down her figure, taking in all the soft curves.  “I like the look.” 

She shook her head and turned around.  “Regardless…”

Sam dumped the bags onto her granite counter and glared at her in mock anger.  “If you disappear on me, I make no promises on your spring roll being here by the time you get back.”

Swin
ging around, her mouth fell open in horror.  “You would eat my spring roll?  What kind of a man are you?”

His eyes traveled up and down her figure
again.  “Just a man willing to do whatever it takes to get what he wants.”

She huffed and stomped back to the counter
, unwilling to test his gentlemanly instincts.  She suspected he might not have any and would devour her spring roll just to make a point.  “Just so you know, I was perfectly happy with my own dinner plans.”

He looked down at the jar of pickles still in her hand, raising an eyebrow to challenge her claim.  “You were going to have pickles and wine.  Not a good combination.”

Hannah looked down at the jar, then hid it behind her back, as if he hadn’t already figured it out.  “Pickles and wine are a perfectly good dinner.  Vegetables and fruit.  Any doctor would agree that’s a great meal.”

He laughed, impressed
with her sense of humor and quick comeback. 

She watched him as he started pulling white boxes out of the bag.  “Are you allowed to do this?”

He looked across the counter at her.  “Eat?”

She refused to laugh, wanting to be stern and indifferent despite all the terrifying feelings racing through her as she watched him in her kitchen.  “I mean, are you allowed to eat with me?  Aren’t I a suspect or a witness or something?”

He raised that sexy, blond eyebrow again and she kept her eyes from looking at those sexy lips of his, knowing that they were probably laughing at her.  “Where were you last night from six to eight?”

Hannah thought back to the previous evening.  “I was at an aerobics class.  And after that, I went out for pizza with some of the ladies from my class.”  She shrugged her shoulders when he looked at her oddly.  “What?  We burned off the calories during class.” 

He chuckled and went back to unloading the plastic bags.  “Okay, so you aren’t a suspect.  And you obviously weren’t there since you got off work at five.  So you’re not a witness either.  No conflicts here.”  He plunked the last box onto the counter and leaned in.  “You’re stuck with me.”

Her lips twisted as she watched him reach up into her cabinets to find the plates, her eyes glued to the muscles that were flexing on his arms, then down to his stomach and her throat went dry again.  That’s when her eyes caught the gun holstered against his side and she gasped.  “You’re wearing a gun!” she
exclaimed and stepped backwards.

Sam found the plates and put them on the counter before he looked back at her.  “I’m a cop, Hannah.  Of course I carry a gun.”  He came around the counter and stood in front of her.  “Hey,” he said when she seemed to be fixated on his weapon.  “It’s okay.  I know how to use it and I’m very careful.”

She pulled her eyes away from his chest where the loose shirt was now covering the black, lethal looking weapon.  “Have you ever been shot?” she whispered, her hand delicately touching his chest.  “You’re not wearing a bullet proof vest.”

“Traffic cops wear them all the time either under or over their uniforms.  I don’t generally wear them unless I suspect there’s going to be danger.”  He covered her hand with his, pressing her palm more firmly against his chest.  “And no, I’ve never been shot before.”

She let out a breath and relaxed somewhat.  “Okay.”

He didn’t explain that the fact he hadn’t ever been shot wouldn’t diminish the danger of some of the situations.  There were just some things a civilian didn’t need to know about.  “I’m not a crazy cop.  I don’t go putting myself in danger.  If there’s ever a situation where there might be gunfire, we coordinate with other officers pretty carefully, minimizing the danger.
  And I have body armor in the trunk of my car.  We all do.”

She sighed and took a step backwards.  “That’s good to know.”  She couldn’t look him in the eyes
again, afraid she might reveal something to him that she didn’t want him to know.  Like how much she wanted him to kiss her. 

Shaking her head, she backed up again.  “Okay, so dinner is good.  And yes, I’ll admit that I’d prefer Chinese and wine versus pickles and wine, so thank you.”

He smiled and went back around the counter, handing her one of the plates.  “Dig in,” he told her and found the forks in the drawer next to his hip.  

She took the plate and peered into each of the boxes, then spooned some of each onto her plate.  “Can you grab wine glasses?  They’re in the cabinet behind you.”  She could have done it herself, but there was no way she was going to get into that kitchen with him.  There simply wasn’t enough room for the two of them.  Not that he was fat.  There didn’t appear to be an ounce of fat on the man’s body.  It was all carved, hard core muscle packed onto that tall frame.  But she definitely didn’t need to be pressed against all that muscle.  Her fingers and palm were still tingling from when she’d touched his chest. 

They carried their plates over to the sofa and Hannah curled her legs up underneath her.  “So what’s going to happen next with the investigation?” she asked. 

Sam shrugged as he sat down next to her.  Too close, she thought. 

“We’ll start looking into his past, find out what was happening, and see if he had any enemies.  We’ll try and contact his daughter again tomorrow.  She might have some insight into what happened to her father.”

He changed the subject then, asking her what her favorite foods were.  For the next hour, she laughed and argued with the man about different subjects, politics
, favorite movies or television, hobbies…one subject floating into the next.  She laughed and ate and argued, feeling more comfortable around him as the night went on and they finished off the bottle of wine. 

When she got up to grab another bottle, feeling relaxed and enjoying herself much more than she’d ever thought possible around such an enormous man, she sat back down on the couch.  Before she could even
pick up the bottle opener from the coffee table, she instinctively knew that the atmosphere had changed.  Her breath caught as she looked up at him, saw the intensity in his eyes and shook her head.  “We can’t do that,” she declared in what she hoped was a firm voice.

Sam didn’t react in any way other than to take the bottle from her, setting
it onto the coffee table.  “What can’t we do?”

His hands came back, one resting on the back of the sofa and the other on the cushion beside her leg. 
“This, Sam.  We can’t do this.”

His hand moved up from the cushion to her leg, his fingers softly caressing.  “We’re going to do this,” he countered. 

“We shouldn’t.”

His eyes moved to her lips.  “We should.  And we will,” he argued before she could try and deny their imminent actions again. 

He leaned forward, his hands tugging gently on her legs, moving them so they were laying across his. 

She placed a hand on his chest, trying to stop him from coming closer but it was a useless effort.  “Sam, this isn’t a good idea.  You don’t know me well enough.  It won’t work.  I promise.”

He ignored her.  Of course.  “Let’s just test your theory,” he said and pulled her even closer.  A moment later, his mouth covered hers. 

The explosion of feelings that hit her
when his mouth covered hers was more than she’d ever dreamed possible.  The heat, the intensity, this quivering, hot, heavy need that took over her body was impossible to ignore.  She wasn’t even aware of her hands moving from his chest, slowly inching their way higher to wrap around his neck, feeling her body come alive.  This wasn’t a slow, sensual build up.  This was a wall of desire slamming into her and she shivered, unable to control it.

Nor would he allow her any control.  His hands moved along her sides, his fingers touching her everywhere while his mouth moved against her lips, his tongue demanding and gaining entry to her mouth. 

She wasn’t aware of her body moving against his or of their positions changing.  She was only aware of his mouth kissing her, drugging her and her own body demanding more.  Her fingers moved along his skin, down along his neck and then to his arm where there was more skin to feel, to explore. 

Hannah had always thought she simply wasn’t a very sexual person.  But with Sam, she found that she had a voracious need to have him touch every part of her, and to touch every part of him.  She wanted him in a shockingly wanton way. 

When his fingers slid underneath her tee-shirt, she gasped with the more intimate contact.  His mouth moved to her neck, nibbling, teasing and almost biting her tender skin and she loved it.  Wanted even more.  She wasn’t aware of her hips shifting, of her feeling that hardness in him and adjusting so that he was cradled against her.  She wasn’t aware of anything other than the intense, controlling need to feel more, to experience this unknown passion inside of her. 

“Stop!” she cried out when his fingers touched her nipple through the silk of her bra.  She grabbed his
hand, her breathing ragged.  But then he shifted slightly and she closed her eyes, her body shuddering with the renewed friction against her core.  “Don’t…” she stopped, her fingers gripping his massive shoulders.  “Do that again,” she whispered.

Sam watched her, his body hardening to an almost painful level as he looked down into her passion filled eyes.  He could feel her body trembling, knew she was right there with him and he thought he might just explode into a
massive ball of heat if she moved again. 

He bent lower, ignoring her hands that were holding his wrists.  He flicked her already hard nipple again, moving his hips at the same time and groaned when she gasped.  She was on fire for him, just as hot and ready as he was.  He had no idea why she’d asked him to stop, but she wasn’t asking any longer and he wasn’t stopping any longer.