Chapter 9
I get it. I finally get it.
Suzannah lay there, cradling 185 pounds of trembling man in her arms and finally understood. This was what all the fuss was about. This was what drove people to the extremes she witnessed time and again, in courtroom after courtroom.
Oh, she’d known on an intellectual plane. But that kind of knowledge was not the same as this bone-deep knowing.
He stirred and she released the handful of hair she’d been clutching so he could lift his head. He gazed down at her, his hair sexily tousled, face flushed. Even now, his brown eyes scorched her.
“You okay?”
She smiled at his husky question. “You could say that.”
He rolled away and off the bed. She let him go reluctantly, missing his warmth and weight more than was reasonable or prudent, and he disappeared immediately into the bathroom.
Suddenly she was assailed by the demons of doubt. Just because it had been great for her didn’t necessarily mean it had been great for him. Did it?
Oh, God, what if it had been awful for him? Was he going to step into the shower, wash every last trace of her from his skin?
Before her insecurities could balloon any further, he was back. Wordlessly, he scooped her up, flicked the covers back and placed her on the cool sheets. Seconds later, he crawled right in beside her, gathering her close.
The condom, she realized. He’d gone to dispose of it. Relief made her giddy.
“I thought you were going to turn out to be one of those fastidious types. You know, jump into a scalding shower and scrub off the top layer of your epidermis.”
As soon as the words were out, she could have bitten her tongue off. They too accurately captured her own reaction to her last ill-judged foray into the bedroom.
“Hardly. In fact, I may never wash my right hand again.”
“John!”
More laughter. More silly talk, which led to silly kisses, which led to serious kisses. Long, languorous, sweet kisses. This time, there was ample opportunity for exploration, and Suzannah took full advantage of it. Using her hands and lips, she explored his face, his neck, his shoulders, his chest, and in a feat of great daring, she laid hands on his prodigious arousal. She would have liked to taste him, too—thrilling tongues of fire licking through her veins at the mere thought—but she lacked the courage.
In any event, her hands seemed to be quite sufficient for the job. He endured her ministrations with obvious pleasure, but eventually he turned the tables on her. With tremendous skill and infinite patience, he subjected her to a similar erotic torture. Finally, when neither could stand another second of foreplay, he sheathed himself again and brought them both to a quick, shattering climax.
Afterward, they lay spooned together beneath the covers.
“Damn. I gotta get up.”
She felt his sigh stir the hairs on the nape of her neck. “So soon?”
“Can’t you hear that?”
She tensed and lifted her head, listening intently. “I don’t hear a thing.”
“Exactly.” He rolled out of bed, fished a pair of jeans out of the drawer and hauled them on. “Bandy’s either asleep or up to no good. I’m betting it’s option B, especially since I didn’t stop to feed him.”
“Whoops. Better rectify that.” She sat up, sheets clutched to her breasts, and watched him dress.
“I will. Right after I walk him.” He dug a clean t-shirt out and hauled it over his head. “I’ll arm the alarm on the way out and let myself back in with my key.”
The alarm. Locked doors. Stepped-up police patrols. Back to reality. A reality that included a faceless stalker. But for a while, in this virtual fortress they’d created, she’d felt safe enough to momentarily forget the lunatic who stalked her.
Or maybe it was John’s arms that made her feel so safe.
Veering away from that thought, she watched him poke his feet into battered runners and lace them up.
She should get up too, but this was his room. She’d have to go down the hall for a change of clothes. Despite the fact he’d already explored her body intimately, she felt oddly shy about walking around naked in front of him. Of course, she could always drag the sheet off the bed and wrap it around her, but that would only underscore her ridiculous modesty. Which meant she was stuck here until he left. God, she was such a prude.
A strand of hair fell forward, and she pushed it back behind her ear. “Spaghetti okay for dinner? I want to make it something quick so I can tackle the work Vince gave me.”
He straightened, nabbed his keys from the top of the dresser and stuck them in the pockets of his jeans. “Spaghetti sounds great, but why don’t I make it? That way, you can get straight to work and just take a break when it’s ready.”
She grinned. “You’re going to cook for me?”
“As often as you like. As long as the menu is spaghetti. Or a nice rib eye on the grill. I can do that, too.” He crossed to the bed, grasped her face and kissed her, a quick, hard kiss. “Back soon.”
She heard him cross the landing and jog lightly down the steps, heard him talking to Bandy, heard the dog’s nails clicking excitedly on the hardwood floor. She smiled, picturing perfectly the way the stout dog would be wriggling as John tried to clip the lead to his collar. She could get used to this.
Except she’d better not.
Her smile faded.
The threat to her safety was the sole force bringing them together. Well, that and a strong physical attraction. The former would be removed when her stalker slipped up, which he was bound to do soon. The latter, the chemistry between them, would run its course quickly, too. After all, they were such an unlikely couple.
She chewed her lip. Their relationship had to be costing him with the other guys. It was one thing for him to let them think he “doing” the She-Rex. Quite another for them to know he’d moved in with her and was making her safety a priority.
Of course, no one from her social circle was taking a terribly positive view of the relationship, either. She’d actually overheard two male friends speculate that she was “slumming” with the rough-edged detective and would soon weary of it. Her girlfriends, on the other hand, did not speculate behind her back. They were completely upfront about her delicious choice for a walk on the wild side. Her own mother believed much the same, for goodness sake. Only Vince was genuinely glad of the relationship, and that was because he figured John would keep her safe. Beyond that, her partner probably shared the consensus opinion that this was a case of opposites temporarily attracting.
Annoyed with herself, Suzannah threw the covers off and leapt out of bed. It didn’t matter what anyone thought. Picking up her skirt, she shook it vigorously.
It didn’t matter, either, that it wasn’t a forever thing. She snatched up her blouse and located her underwear under John’s shirt. She was quite capable of enjoying it while it lasted, after which she’d file it away with other pleasant memories, like the three weeks she’d spent in the Dutch Antilles last year.
Marching to her own bedroom, she tossed her clothes on the bed, strode to the bathroom and turned on the taps. Adjusting the water temperature, she flicked on the shower, stepped under the spray and let it soak her hair.
She wasn’t Sleeping Beauty looking for a handsome prince to come along and cart her off to some happily ever after. She was a modern woman. A sophisticated woman.
Squeezing shampoo into her hands, she worked it briskly through her hair, then leaned back into the spray to rinse the rich lather away.
She certainly wasn’t one of those girls who imagined themselves in love just because some guy came along and gave her an orgasm. Not even for a mind-blinding, soul-shaking orgasm.
No, this girl was going to grab as many of those orgasms, enjoy as many laughs, as she could. But she’d keep her head and heart a proper distance from danger.
Satisfied, she stepped from the shower and grabbed a towel.