her and carried her into the living room, swept the things off a low coffee table, and lowered her onto her back on it. Wrenching her legs apart, he tasted her, covering her with his mouth and tongue.
She gasped, arched and splintered apart. So fast he didn’t have time to enjoy it. So he did it again.
When he finally climbed up on the table and lowered himself on top of her, she was totally wrung out and he was ready to detonate. He grasped under her knees and spread them.
“Protection?” she managed to murmur.
“Taken care of,” he told her. Thank God he’d tucked a few condoms in his trouser pocket. Just in case.
“Mmm.”
He thrust into her. The feel of her hot flesh surrounding him burst through his consciousness like a kaleidoscope of erotic sensation. He froze. If he moved a muscle he’d be lost. She held him tight, her chest expanding and contracting against him. It wasn’t helping. He groaned.
“Conner?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“Is anything wrong?”
“Other than me being about to shame myself and totally ruin my macho reputation?”
She let out a surprised laugh. Her muscles contracted around him.
Jeez-uz.
“Baby, have mercy,” he begged.
Her eyes softened, joy suffusing her whole face. She was so lovely his breath caught in his lungs. Was it really possible he had done that to her? Made her so happy she glowed with it?
“Kiss me,” she whispered.
So he did. Long and wet and thorough as a spring downpour in the Mojave. She wrapped her legs around his waist and held him tight and used her heels on his backside to push him deep, deep, deep into her. So deep he found he couldn’t hold back.
“It’s okay. Let yourself go,” she whispered into his mouth, her voice low and thready with emotion.
He shuddered, fighting it. Not wanting it to be over so quickly. “Too soon,” he gritted out.
“We have all night,” she refuted breathily.
Which was a good thing, because he had no more strength to resist.
An overwhelming surge of pleasure crashed over him. And he surrendered. Surrendered to the carnal bliss. Surrendered to the emotional rightness. Surrendered to the deep inner knowledge that after this night, he would never be the same man again.
This was just the beginning.
Chapter 12
“No, Dad. Because I don’t—” Speaking on the phone, Conner did not look like a happy camper. In fact, he looked downright angry. “What about Mike? Why can’t he—”
Vera wrapped the silk robe Conner’d lent her a bit tighter around her body and sank a bit deeper into the leather recliner she was curled into, trying to make herself invisible. They were in his study while he’d put out a fire or two at work. This didn’t sound like work, though.
“Yes, Dad. Of course I am. But—”
They’d made love all night. And all morning. And half the afternoon. They’d shared passions and done things together she’d never done with another human being. He’d claimed her body; she’d given him her heart and her soul.
But she still felt like a trespasser in his world.
“Fine, Dad. Yes, I understand.” He slammed the phone down with a curse, a scowl etched on his face.
She didn’t dare ask him what was wrong. Not her place.
“Too early for a drink?” she ventured. It was just past four. Hell, it was five o’clock just down the road in Denver. At least she thought it was. Of course, one never knew with Mountain Time.
He looked up, apparently surprised to see her sitting there. Oops. Should have kept her mouth shut.
“Come here,” he ordered.
She untangled her legs and did as he bid. Normally she wasn’t such a “yes” girl, but last night she’d quickly realized the considerable benefits of doing as he asked.
He patted the desk blotter in front of him, and she duly climbed up and sat.
“Open your robe.”
She smiled. The man was truly insatiable. Okay, this she could do. Her body already quickening, she unbelted the robe and held it open in anticipation of whatever he had in mind to make himself forget the conversation he’d just had with his father.
He didn’t touch her. Just looked. And looked.
“You have the body of a goddess,” he finally said. “You could have any man you want at the charity ball tonight.”
“Why would I want anyone else when I have you?” she asked, reaching out for his hand and raising it to her cheek. She kissed his palm. He frowned.
She knew it was the wrong thing to do. Men didn’t like it when a woman got all clingy after sex. But she just couldn’t help herself.
Heart on her sleeve? Look it up. Her picture would be right there under the definition.
Did she care?
Ask her tomorrow.
She brought his hand to her breast. He cupped her, running his thumb gently over the nipple. Shivers of pleasure went up her spine.
“And you make love like a god,” she murmured.
Abruptly, he rolled his chair forward and leaned her backward onto his arm, bracing her as he took her other nipple in his mouth. Using his tongue, he imitated what his thumb was doing to the first one.
She sucked in a sharp breath, already rushing toward climax. Her body had gotten so tuned to him, physically, all it took was a touch or a kiss and she was practically there.
He withdrew, kissing her on the mouth instead. A sweet, tender kiss.
Her stomach sank.
A goodbye kiss.
Momentarily stunned, her heart squeezed painfully. Wow. That had happened more quickly than she’d thought.
But okay. She was a big girl. She could handle it.
She steadied herself, physically and mentally, for the inevitable.
“Are you ready for the ball?” he asked. “You still okay with what you have to do?”
The question caught her off guard.
In between their lovemaking and occasional foraging trips from the bedroom to the kitchen, they’d talked about what she would do tonight, how she’d go about getting the information about Darla that they needed. How to lure Darla’s accomplices in the jewelry theft ring out into the open. Alleged accomplices.
Vera was still convinced Darla was innocent. But she’d sworn to do her best for Conner and she would. She’d rather know the truth about her sister, either way.
“Of course,” she answered. She was nervous as hell about it but ready as ever. She thought about that phone call. “Why? Has something happened?”
His gaze dropped to her breasts again, and he stroked his hands over them possessively. “No,” he said. “Nothing that affects anything important.”
Now, there was a nonanswer if ever she’d heard one.
“What was that argument with your father all about, Conner?” she asked, a sick foreboding knotting in her stomach. “What did he want?”
Her lover leaned over and pressed his lips to her