KNOCK ME OFF MY FEET

  "You're going to get me. Right now."

  Yet again, a flash of heat spread through her, and this one was an attention-getter. She saw her eyes fly open in the dark window. There was no mistaking it—Stacey Quinn had just made her come with the barest touch of his finger, the press of his skin on hers, and with his words.

  What the hell would happen when he was inside her?

  "Come here to me," he said, turning her, taking her hands, and sinking slowly with her onto the Oriental rug. "It's time for sweaty sex on the floor, Homey."

  They knelt in front of each other and she stared at him, so close, so gorgeous and intense. She felt his hard desire tap against her belly now. She felt his arms reach around her back and pull her against him. He felt like fire. There was fire in the tongue that licked into her mouth, fire where his fingertips pushed up into her hair. She felt herself become only what his hands wanted from her—nothing but slippery heat and stiff nipples and arching flesh, all for Quinn. Only for him.

  "You are so soft. So beautiful," he managed between kisses. "I want you to take whatever you want from me. Take it."

  Audie pushed hard into him with her mouth, then pulled back, breathless. She came back to him, running her tongue across his lips, resting her hands on his thighs, then pulled back again.

  Quinn smiled at her. She did it again—came to him and kissed him with a sharp rush of need and then pulled away. There was something happening here, he realized, as if she was right on the edge of letting go, on the edge of asking for something, but she didn't know how to go about it.

  Just as he suspected.

  "Let it go with me, Audie." His voice was warm and his hands cradled her face and she felt herself trembling—from desire or fear she couldn't say.

  "I'm not sure I can," she said.

  Quinn looked down at her beautiful flushed face, her lips swollen from his kisses, her eyes dark and doubtful.

  "Please don't be afraid of me."

  She shook her head. "I'm not afraid of you, Quinn. I'm afraid of me—of what I want right now, with you … what I want to say to you."

  He smiled at her and gently traced his thumb across her full bottom lip. When her wet little tongue came out to greet him, his penis jumped.

  "Say it."

  She was about to shake her head again when he pulled her roughly to him, smashing her breasts against his bare chest. "I want to hear you ask for it," he said roughly.

  With a little sob, she leaned back and looked into his eyes. "I want it hard, Quinn," she whispered. "I want you to pin me down, and take me until there's nothing left of me. I want you to make me scream."

  He let out a surprised laugh, deep and throaty, but said nothing at first. Then his grip on her softened. "Tell me if I hurt you. I don't want to hurt you, sweet lassie."

  It was her turn to laugh. "You can't. I think I was made for this—for you, for right now. I think I've been waiting all my life for this." Her eyes pleaded with him. "Do it, Quinn."

  "Jaysus."

  He laid her gently on her back, and his face was drawn with such raw sexual hunger that she trembled. He hovered over her a silent moment as if to give her one last chance to change her mind.

  Like that would happen.

  "I want to scream, Quinn," she whispered, and his hands were pressing down on the insides of her thighs, spreading her wide, and she felt him slowly run a finger along the dripping seam of her.

  "Holy Christ, Audie," he groaned.

  He cupped himself in his hand and rubbed the fat head of his penis up and down the entrance to her. With his eyes hot on hers, he pushed inside her in one long, slow slide and listened to her moan the whole way in.

  At first, Audie thought he'd ripped her apart. He felt so huge and hard, and she'd been empty for so long that it was a shock to her. But when he began to move, so slow and deep, all she felt was the pleasure, the swaying pleasure in the putting in and pulling out, the press of his hard weight into her, becoming part of her.

  His hands went to her wrists, moving them up over her head and pinning them to the carpet as he began to move a bit harder and a bit faster. Audie looked up into his eyes, so forceful and serious, and she felt conquered like never before, treasured like never before, and the waves started to break in her mind.

  She was his. He was inside her. She was getting exactly what she wanted—what she'd always wanted.

  Thank God.

  Then the words began.

  "I'm taking you, Audie. I'm right here. I'm giving you what you want, big and deep and hard. I'd do anything for you. Do you know that I'd do anything for you?"

  His words struck like velvet lightning in her blood. She felt herself clenching and pulling as he continued to rain words down upon her in that musical voice—so many words.

  "You're mine, woman," he growled, dipping his head to suck and lick at her hard nipples. "I'm never letting you go. I'm taking you hard. Taking your sweet little body."

  The man who said so little in everyday conversation was making love to her with words, she realized, bringing her to orgasm with words, words like kisses, words as real and as hard as the cock now fully inside her, reaching her core.

  "I feel you coming, Audie. I feel you so hot and sweet—God, you are the sweetest damn thing I've ever seen in my life!"

  Where was this place? Wherever it was, she was going fast and rough and it was a rushing, dark place and his words were dragging her there.

  "I'm coming!" she whimpered.

  That made him smile. "I know you are, baby," he said, kissing her softly. "And I'm going to keep you there, then push you higher." He adjusted himself over her, changing the angle and speed of his thrusts, and the friction was too hot, too good, and she cried out.

  Quinn looked down to see her body shimmering with sweat, all softness and sex writhing beneath him, her breasts exposed, her lips parted. She was very close to letting go completely, he knew. And it was going to be good.

  "Come here to me." He released her wrists and pulled her up, balancing her head in one arm while supporting himself with the other. He started a slow and sultry rhythm with his hips.

  "Don't close your eyes. I want you to look right at me while I split you open. Look at me while I love you. You want me deep inside you, don't you, Audie?"

  "Oh, God, yes!" She didn't recognize her own voice.

  Quinn pushed into her without mercy then, rough and serious and just a bit faster. "I'm taking you, Audie. I'm taking you with everything I've got, everything I am. Do you want more?"

  "Yes! More!" And the words faded into a wail, not a cry, not a moan, but a desperate sound that told Quinn what he needed to know—that this was something new for her and it was surprising and strong. Her eyes began to close.

  "Open your eyes and look at me." She did. His gaze locked on hers and she gasped. He was seeing too much. He was asking for too much!

  "It's too much … I don't know—"

  "Just feel, sweetheart," he murmured. "Just feel us together; feel how good this is between you and me. It's unbelievable. It's so … damn … good."

  He held her head so that she couldn't escape the truth of what she'd asked for and what he was giving her. And Audie didn't know where the force originated—whether it was in her heart or her flesh—but she was drowning in it, dying in it, staring into the penetrating green fire of Quinn's eyes as he showed her what it felt like to feel possessed, taken…

  Loved.

  He watched her face widen in shock and her eyes flash. Then she screamed—and it was wild and reckless and he covered her mouth with his own to swallow it. She arched against him and shook and went rigid, screaming louder, and her hands were tearing at his back, and Quinn absorbed the violence of her surrender.

  He grabbed her tight in both his arms, knowing this was too much for him, too intense. "I'm lost," he told her. "I'm yours…"

  Quinn came inside her with a roar and the heat blinded him and the world shattered into pieces around them.

 
They clutched at each other for many long, quiet minutes, their breathing ragged, their bodies slick with sweat and throwing off heat.

  Quinn knew he should probably say something to her, but nothing seemed right. Nothing seemed good enough. Important enough. So all he did was whisper her name—"Audie."

  And right then, he put away the fantasy forever. He didn't need it anymore. He didn't want Carmen Electra. He sure as hell didn't want Martha Stewart. He wanted this woman—he wanted Audie.

  He pulled her up as he rose to his knees, then turned so that she sat on his lap. She stayed curled around him, quiet, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. Eventually, she stirred. "Quinn?"

  "Mmm?"

  "Are you always like that?" She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder.

  "Like what?" he wondered aloud. Did he usually let his heart crack in two? Did he usually see his soul reflected in a woman's eyes?

  "Do you always talk that much?"

  He chuckled, slightly embarrassed, gently stroking her back and hip with one hand. "Did I talk a lot?"

  She pulled away enough to see his face, so sweet and confused. She ran a finger along his sweaty hairline and smiled at him. "Yes. You talked an awful lot."

  He frowned. "That may have been a first. I hope I didn't say anything stupid."

  Audie stared at him in silence, then kissed his cheek and tucked her body close to his again, gripping his waist tight with her legs.

  So many extraordinary things had just happened to her, but the most amazing was that Quinn had just taken her to a place of blind, raging lust and now he cradled her in his lap, so warm and sweet, worried that he'd said something stupid. She'd never known a man like him.

  Suddenly there were tears in her eyes, and she was glad he couldn't see them.

  "Nothing stupid, Quinn," she assured him, kissing his neck and hugging him tight. "Just wonderful."

  After a long while, he lifted her away from his chest and kissed her tenderly. "I won't be sleeping in the guest room tonight, will I, Homey?"

  "No. And not in the hallway, either. I don't think I'm done with you."

  "Are you threatening me?" His mouth twitched with the beginnings of a wicked smile.

  "Yes, and you love it." She ran a finger across those beautiful lips. "Shall we?"

  With a groan she pulled away from him, tucked her legs beneath her, and stood. She offered him her hand, but he just looked up at her, astonished.

  "Aren't you coming?"

  "I kind of like the view from here," he said, and she looked down to see her thighs glistening with sweat and semen.

  "Oh, God."

  He jumped to his feet and put his arms around her, rubbing her back. "You look like a woman who's been thoroughly ravaged, and as I recall, that's what you ordered. Wanna take a shower with me?"

  When she stopped laughing, she leaned her head back and looked into his eyes, so bright and contented. "I have to tell you something first, Quinn."

  "I'm all ears."

  "I explained how it is with me, and—"

  "I changed all that?"

  As ridiculous as it seemed, Audie suddenly felt a little self-conscious. "It seems that way," she whispered.

  Quinn grabbed a handful of her thick, wavy hair, grinning. "You did look fairly shocked by the whole thing."

  "That's because I was."

  He kissed the adorable tip of her nose, then rubbed his cheek against hers as he whispered into her ear, "Tell me how it was different."

  She closed her eyes and sighed, wondering how she could possibly explain this to him. She wasn't an expert on the male orgasm, but she didn't think they had the kind of drastic range of responses that women did. After a long moment, she pulled back to look at him.

  "OK, Quinn. Have you ever taken a sip of Bud Light and found yourself staring at the can, trying to convince yourself that you'd just swallowed beer?"

  His grin spread.

  "My usual orgasm is a Bud Light."

  He was already shaking with silent laughter. "And just now…?"

  "Like sticking my mouth under the Guinness tap and slurping every rich, delicious drop until I blow up, knowing it's a very good way to die."

  Quinn laughed hard and clasped her to him so tight that she momentarily couldn't breathe.

  "You're supposed to warn me when you're going to talk about beer, woman."

  "I forgot again."

  "Audie, you make me so happy…"

  The words came out sure and clear, and though Quinn's arms relaxed around her, she still couldn't breathe. She felt him stroke her hair and caress her back. She nestled closer, listening to his heartbeat, his breath, remembering how he had held her like this on the dock that night, when he first offered her a place in the world where she fit just right.

  When she warned him she was a failure at love.

  Quinn must have heard her thoughts again, because he whispered to her in his gravelly voice, "…until we both dry up and blow away."

  * * *

  Chapter 11

  « ^ »

  September 14

  Dear Homey Helen:

  I've known people who've used compulsive neatness as a substitute for human connection, for human feelings. My theory is these people keep the mind and hands occupied so the heart doesn't break.

  I think you've seen this behavior: Clean, clean, clean. Control, control, control. Do, do, do—all to stay so busy that you don't have time to look around and realize you've wasted your entire life.

  And realty, what is the point of a spotless house or an orderly desk if your life is in shambles?

  —Your most loyal fan

  PS: I really enjoy the new "Pet Corner" on your Web site. It's helpful and entertaining!

  Quinn thought it possible that he was hallucinating. After all, he'd been thinking of nothing but Audie all morning—as he raced home at seven to shower and change his clothes, then while in the shower, then on the drive into the station, and each second he'd been sitting here trying to pretend he was the same Stacey Quinn who sat at this desk on Friday.

  But he wasn't. Because this morning he was Autumn Adams's lover, and the desk sergeant had just escorted her into the detectives' room, and he felt like he did every time he'd ever had the privilege to watch Frank Thomas hit one over the 400-foot center field wall at Comiskey Park—he was awestruck. Just damn glad to be alive.

  Stanny-O was up on his feet. "Audie!" He pulled up a chair for her. "Did you recover from yesterday?"

  Her eyes flew wide and she stared desperately at Quinn.

  "Good morning, Audie," he said evenly. "I think Stan was asking if you liked the party."

  "Oh, crap. Hell." She collapsed in the chair and produced a weak smile for Stanny-O. "Yes. I had a great time. You?"

  "Always do. Want some coffee, Audie?" Detective Oleskiewicz winked at Quinn as he started toward the coffee island. "You sure look like you could use a cup or two … or five." He winked at Quinn again.

  "I'd love some!" she called after him.

  Quinn tried not to smile too much. He tried not to stare at the short tan linen skirt and matching blouse she was wearing. He tried not to reach out and touch her hair or the smooth skin of her thigh just above her kneecap. He tried not to carry her bodily to the supply closet and take her up against the wall next to the copier toner.

  "Good morning, Homey," he said softly. He leaned back in his chair and clasped his fingers behind his head. "So you missed me, huh? It's been"—he quickly checked his watch—"three hours and forty-six minutes since I left your place."

  It seemed Audie was trying her best not to smile at him, too, and Quinn watched her bite down on her bottom lip and slowly flutter those thick black lashes of hers. He nearly fell over backward in his chair.

  Damn, she was something else. Quinn had not exactly led a monastic lifestyle, but sex with Audie had been a mind-blowing experience. And there she sat this morning, trying not to smile or look him in the eye, and his heart was so full it was sore.
>
  What had happened between them last night—all last night—had been intense. Fun. Wild. And extremely important.

  So of course he wasn't the same man who'd sat at this desk on Friday, because today he was the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet.

  Unfortunately, he also was risking the wrath of his commander and needed to find a way he could stay on Audie's case and still come clean with Connelly. Exactly how he'd manage that remained to be seen. He'd worry about it later. Because just then, Audie decided she'd smile at him.

  "Here you are, Audie." Stanny-O placed her coffee on the edge of Quinn's desk and reached into his top right-hand drawer. "To what do we owe this lovely visit? Care for a mint?"

  "Oh. Sure. Just a sec." Audie shook her head as if she were shaking loose her thoughts and started rooting around in her shoulder bag. She took out handfuls of hair clips, receipts, trash, crumpled cigarettes, and a balled-up pair of panty hose before she found what she was looking for.

  "Here it is. Another one. It was in this morning's mail."

  She tossed the envelope on Quinn's desk and shoveled all the junk back in her bag. Then she reached for a Frango Mint and popped it in her mouth.

  Quinn picked off a few flecks of tobacco from the letter before he unfolded it and read it without comment. Then he handed it to Stanny-O.

  "Jeesh," Stanny-O said. "I've gotta tell you, these letters are really starting to piss me off. I mean, what is this?" He held up the note. "Who's he talking about?"

  "Well, I'm pretty sure it's not me," Audie said, shrugging and letting her eyes catch Quinn's. "But it might be my mother."

  "Tell me why you say that," Quinn immediately asked.

  "Well, because that's how my mother was. My dad used to call her a human doing, not a human being. She got very pissed off at that."

  Quinn nodded and leaned toward her. "Audie. Stanny-O and I need to talk with you about your case, and I need you to keep an open mind, all right?"

  She ran a nervous hand through her hair and shrugged. "Sure. What?"

  Quinn watched Stanny-O place the latest letter in a manila envelope and fill out an Illinois State Police crime lab form. Then he turned back to Audie and saw her smile turn to a frown.