Shroud of Fog: (A Cape Trouble Romantic Suspense Novel) (18 page)

Heaven help her…she was.

His eyes had narrowed slightly.  “Listening to you doesn’t
fall under my job description.  You know that, don’t you, Sophie?”

She couldn’t seem to look away from him.  “No,” she
whispered.  “I can’t help but wonder whether I’m a nuisance, or…”  She couldn’t
make herself finish.

“You mean, how I feel about you.”

“I suppose.”  She was reduced to mumbling.  How pathetic.

For a long time, they only stared at each other.  Then one
side of his mouth lifted in a very wry smile.  “You scare me, Sophie.  That’s
how I feel.”

She gaped.

“Wanting you the way I do isn’t healthy for me.  I like
sex.  But anything more than that—  I don’t know if I can do it, okay?”  He was
scowling.  “But you make me—”  He broke off.  “Crap.  What am I doing?”

He was afraid of her.  Of how he felt about her.

“I’m scared of you, too,” she said.  Suddenly it was easy to
say.  Whether it was wise, she didn’t know.  “That’s why…”

“You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder.”

Her head bobbed.

In a matter of seconds, he’d gotten to his feet and crossed
the small room until he stood right beside her chair, his hand outheld. 
“Sophie,” he said roughly, just as he had the day at the beach.

She couldn’t resist, any more than she’d been able to then. 
She took his hand, and let him pull her to her feet.

Her lips were forming his name when his mouth closed over
hers, silencing her.

After she said that, there wasn’t anything Daniel could have
done to stop himself from kissing her.

I’m scared of you, too.

Oh, man.  Later, he was going to regret this.  Bad enough
that he was freaked about what he felt for her.  It was worse that she was
admitting to feeling something above and beyond casual lust and liking for
him.  He tried not to raise expectations and leave women hurt.  He’d felt like
a shit the few times he had.

All he knew, in this desperate surge of need, was that
Sophie was different.

He loved her body, leggy and slender but soft in the right
places.   The feel of her hands kneading his shoulders was indescribable. Her
taste was her own, and her tongue met his eagerly.  He took her mouth in long,
drugging kisses that had her rising on tiptoe to press against him.

His fingers dove into her hair, cool and a little damp from
the quick shower she’d taken before dinner.  Even the shape of her skull fit
his hand perfectly.  With his other hand he squeezed her butt and lifted her
higher, hungry to cradle his erection between her legs instead of against her
belly.

She made little noises when he wrenched his mouth from hers
so that he could nibble her earlobe, press open-mouthed kisses down the long,
pure line of her throat, lick her skin where her pulse beat at the base.  When
she let go of his shoulders so she could slip her hands beneath his T-shirt, a
groan escaped him, too.

“God, I want you.”  He couldn’t help sounding raw, and as
desperate as he felt.  But he lifted his head and looked at her, needing to
know she was really okay with this.  She was so damn beautiful, with that
fine-textured skin and the perfect oval of her face.  Her lips were a little
swollen, her eyes dazed.

She blinked a couple of times, then said what he needed to
hear.  A simple, “Yes.”

“Bedroom,” he said urgently, and when she nodded he swept
her down the hall, tempted for the first time in his life to lift a woman in
his arms and carry her.

He was shocked to have an urge so primitive, but the jolt
wasn’t strong enough to make him so much as hesitate, not when Sophie slipped
into the bedroom ahead of him and turned to face him, her eyes luminous.  He
was distantly aware that the bed had those tall posts and some kind of lacy
canopy.  The bedding looked white and pillowy.  Too soft.  Having already
ripped his T-shirt over his head, he dropped it and pulled back the bedcover. 
Then he reached for the hem of Sophie’s shirt.  Never looking away from him,
she raised her arms willingly, wriggling a little to help.  The sight of her
slender, pale torso and the swell of flesh above a skimpy, leaf-green bra made
more of his blood head south.  His hands were shaking when he pulled her close
and dealt with the catch in back.

He bent to rest his forehead against hers for a moment,
struggling to regain some self-control.  He had to make this good for her.

His effort was doomed by her strong hands exploring the
contours of his back.  She did some more kneading, then her fingertips danced
down his spine to the waistband of his jeans, sliding around to the front where
she seemed to enjoy the texture of the thin line of hair that led down his
belly and beneath the zipper.  He was afraid he’d explode if she let her hands
go any lower.

To prevent it, he reached for the button at her waist, and
in short order peeled her jeans and panties down those amazing legs.  He
crouched in front of her to ease them over her feet as she let the flip-flops
fall to the floor, one by one.

He wrapped his hands around her ankles, stroking his way
upward, then dropped to his knees and nuzzled the springy, already damp hair at
the juncture of her thighs.

She grabbed for his head.  “Daniel—!”

Ignoring what might have been a protest, he licked between
the folds, tasting the salty essence of woman, loving the way her whole body
jerked.  Keeping his tongue and lips soft, non-aggressive, he reveled in the
way that, after the first protest, her thigh muscles went lax and she seemed to
be using her grip in his hair to hold her up instead of control him.

She kept saying his name, in between a few moans and some
squeaks.  Part of him wanted to stay here on his knees until she came, but his
own increasing urgency wouldn’t let him.  He abruptly surged to his feet,
lifting her onto the bed where she sprawled, her expression stunned and her
knees spread wantonly wide.

“Beautiful,” he said thickly, as he groped for a condom and
then shed his jeans.  He had a hell of a time getting that damn condom on. 
More warning bells rang; he’d never been so turned on before, his hands shook.

Didn’t care.  Nothing was stopping him now.  Sure as hell
not Sophie, who was reaching for him eagerly as he came down on her, his mouth
claiming hers.  He wanted to kiss and suckle her breasts.  He wanted a lot of
things, but the tip of his penis was pressed against her wet, slick opening,
and all he could do was make a hoarse sound and press forward.  She whimpered
and lifted her hips to help accommodate him, and damn this felt better than
anything ever had in his life.  He buried himself deep, pulled out and did it
again.  They caught a rhythm immediately.  Her hands gripped him frantically,
and he closed his teeth on her neck as he felt her first spasms grip him.

And then he let himself go, driving deep, over and over, as
some kind of madness blinded him to anything but the pleasure of her body and
the sounds she made and the freight train of pleasure that thundered through
him.

In the end, he could do nothing but come down heavily on
her, knowing he was crushing her but unable to make his body obey any commands.

She wrapped her arms around him and held on so tight, he
knew she didn’t mind.

*****

Eventually, with a grunt Daniel rolled sideways, but he
tucked her against him as if he didn’t want to lose contact with her.  Sophie
lay with her head on his shoulder and tried to relearn how to breathe.  She was
so stunned, it was awhile before she could feel much else.

She’d have sworn that she had enjoyed sex before – but it
hadn’t been anything like this.

Because I never felt anything for any man like I do for
this one.  For Daniel.

Scary was the right word.  She’d known him for – what? – a
week?  Ridiculous.

She tried to convince herself that he was better at
lovemaking than the few men she’d shared her bed with before.  It was a matter
of mechanics, that’s all.  Oral sex, for example: she had never especially
liked it.  She knew she’d made all kinds of sounds while her knees gave way. 
Probably she should be embarrassed.  She’d never been noisy before, either.

Of course, Daniel had done a fair share of groaning, too,
she remembered.  Sophie rubbed her cheek against him, felt his muscles tense
and wondered what he was thinking.

His chest vibrated and she lifted her head, trying to see
his face.  “Are you
laughing
?”

“Yeah.  God.  I think so.”  His big hand gently stroked her
hair back from her face, and she saw that he had a rueful curve to his mouth
even as his eyes were navy dark and serious.

“Should I be insulted?”

“No.”  He tugged her closer, so he could kiss her, the
merest brush of lips and nibble, a nuzzle that flooded her chest with warmth. 
“I was laughing,” he said in a low rumble, “because, man, I thought I knew what
scared was, but I didn’t.”

As if it were an electric shock, Sophie thought,
Dear
God, he’s right
.  What she’d felt before was wariness, that’s all.  A sort
of presentiment cautioning her that this man could hurt her.  Now…heaven help her,
now she
knew
.

She was in love with Daniel Colburn, and discovered it felt
as if she’d tiptoed to the edge and was peering into a bottomless abyss.  She
knew what it was like to love someone and have that person gone in an instant. 
She’d never been sure she had it in her to rely on anyone like that again.

“It’s…not exactly funny,” she mumbled.

“You gotta laugh in the face of danger.”

She punched his chest, unable to get much force behind it. 
“Especially if you’re a manly man who wears a badge and gun on the job.”

“Right.”  The amusement had returned to his voice, although
she wasn’t sure it had been there when he said that about laughing in the face
of danger.

“I should be working on the auction.”  But she couldn’t seem
to make herself move.  She could feel the hard, steady beat of Daniel’s heart
under her hand, which was splayed on his chest.  The texture of hair beneath
her hand felt interesting, too.  And if she moved, just a little, she could rub
her cheek on his small, brown nipple.  Or turn her head a bit and lick it.

What she
should
do was get up and get dressed.

“Don’t,” he said.

Sophie had to think back to what she’d said.

“Why?”

“You deserve a few hours off.”  He tilted his head to smile
at her.  “Because I think my body is recovering with remarkable speed.  And,
you know, there’s a lot I wanted to do to you and didn’t get around to.”

“That’s not my fault,” she protested.

“Yeah.”  He rolled so that she was suddenly on her back and
he was looming over her.  There was a smile in his voice and his eyes.  “It’s
totally your fault.  But, see, there’s such a thing as a do-over, and I get to
take my time.”

“Do you.”  She sounded sultry, probably for the first time
in her life.  She flattened her hand on his chest and felt the hard nub of his
nipple against her palm.  She gently rotated her hand.  “So long as I can take
my time, too.”

“Why not?”  Before she could stop him, he’d slid lower in
the bed so that he could kiss first one breast, then the other.

She moaned and arched.  His mouth clamped over her breast
and he sucked strongly.

Neither of them took their time, and she, for one, didn’t
care.

*****

The familiar ring of Daniel’s phone pulled him from sleep. 
It sounded muffled, which puzzled him.  He slitted his eyes open and was
immediately disoriented.  Enough light fell through the window, he knew it
wasn’t where it ought to be.  The bed didn’t feel right, either, and—  Someone
else’s hair tickled his face.  The someone was snuggled up tight to him.

Sophie.  The best sex of my life.
  God help him, he
remembered.

The telephone.

He eased her off him and got out of bed as carefully as
possible, then fumbled around on the floor until he located his pants.  The
phone had quit ringing by the time he got his hands on it, but he carried it
out of the bedroom and into the living room of the small cottage, then checked
the number and touched reply.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“We’ve got a kid missing, chief.”  The caller was Aaron
Kreiger, the young officer on nights this month.  “The family was staying at
the Sea ’N Surf.  The mother is hysterical.”

“How old is the kid?”

“Eight.  A girl.”

“Okay, I’m on my way,” he said, still keeping his voice
down.  But by the time he got back to the bedroom to try to locate the rest of
his scattered garments and shoes, Sophie had turned on the bedside lamp.

She was sitting up, but holding the covers to her breasts. 
“Is something wrong?”

“Missing kid,” he said.  “I’ve got to go.”  But, damn,
looking at her with her hair tousled and her cheeks pink and her shoulders
bare, he wanted only to get back in that bed with her.

With an unhappy grunt, he pulled on his knit boxers followed
by his jeans.  Socks…  He spotted one, and finally found the other half hidden
beneath the bed.  His eye caught on the digital clock, which claimed it wasn’t even
midnight.  He guessed that might be accurate; he and Sophie had been in bed so
early, the sun hadn’t even set.

Once he sat on the edge of the bed to put on his shoes and
socks, she didn’t help matters by kneeling behind him and massaging his
shoulders.  When her thumbs dug into taut muscles beside his shoulder blades,
he groaned and said, “You’re making this hard.”

“Literally?” she teased, but backed off.

He grimaced and had to adjust himself as he stood, picked
his shirt up off the floor and pulled it on over his head.

“Walk me to the door and lock up behind me,” he ordered,
trying not to look as she slipped out of bed, her body gloriously naked before
she found a robe in the closet and put it on.  While she was doing that, he
fastened his badge to his waistband and checked his weapon.

At the front door, she looked at him somberly.  “I hope this
isn’t something awful.”

“Yeah, me, too.”  Dealing with tragedies that involved
children was the worst part of his job.  It was one reason, he knew, that
Sophie’s history had hit him so hard.

She rose on tiptoe and kissed him lightly, then gave him a
little push.  “Go.”

“Yeah.  Shit,” he said, suddenly remembering.  “All the
stuff is still here.”

“It’s safer here than in the trunk of your car.”

He frowned.  “Maybe.  Yeah, okay.  I’m going.  Make sure the
French doors are locked, too.”

“I will.”

He kissed her, hard, then went.

During the short drive to Schooner Street, then north along
the waterfront to the outskirts of town, Daniel tried hard not to think about
what had happened tonight.

No, he was okay thinking about what happened – what man
didn’t like to think about a beautiful woman and sex?  The avoidance part had
to do with his own feelings.

Avoiding was good, he decided.  These emotions had to be
post-coital bliss.  And, damn it, even that much was thinking about the
unthinkable, and he wasn’t going to do it anymore.

Fortunately, he arrived at the Sun ’N Surf, and the lights
blazing from a unit at the end were enough to recall him to what mattered right
now: finding a lost child.