Cavanaugh Cold Case Page 16
“Mission completed,” she declared when he stepped out of his vehicle. “You saw me home safely.”
“Technically, the ‘mission’ isn’t complete until I see you walk into your home and turn on the lights to make sure everything’s secure.”
The way he said it made her think of the manner in which police secured a building. “Is that going to entail you coming in, gun drawn and clearing every room, one at a time?”
She did have a flair for the dramatic, Malloy thought, amused. “I hadn’t thought of that, but now that you mention it, that would definitely complete the mission.”
“Let me put your mind at ease,” she said with a touch of sarcasm. “I have very nosy neighbors. If anyone was seen breaking into my house, they would have lost no time calling 911, and we would have seen the house surrounded by squad cars when we pulled up. Nobody’s here,” she guaranteed.
He wondered if she had any idea just how strongly attracted he was to her and how much it took for him not to act on that attraction.
“You can never be too careful,” he told her, although he remained standing exactly where he was. He wasn’t about to push. He didn’t believe in it. Things either happened naturally, or they didn’t.
“You’re not going in,” she observed, stating the obvious. Her stomach had been churning ever since she’d spotted him in her review mirror, following her home. Right about now, her fingertips had joined the act, growing icy as her palms did the exact opposite, sending heat through the rest of her.
His eyes met hers. His voice was almost seductively low as he asked, “Do you want me to go in?”
His question was reminiscent of what he’d told her the other day. That he would never do anything she didn’t want him to do. He was waiting for an invitation, she realized. All she had to do was say no, and she’d be out of danger. He’d leave.
Just one little two-letter word, that was all it would take.
She took a breath.
And then she heard herself saying, “Get it over with.”
Malloy arched one eyebrow, puzzled. “Get what over with?”
There was almost defiance in her eyes as she continued looking up at him.
“Kiss me,” she told him. “Kiss me so that we can both get it out of the way and get on with our lives.”
He was trying hard not to laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard it put quite that romantically before.”
She’d almost doubled up her fists then, wanting to pound him on his chest.
Instead, Kristin managed to keep her hands at her sides as she retorted, “I’m not trying to be romantic, I’m trying to be efficient.”
Well, that was a new one on him. “Oh, is that what you call it? Efficient? Never heard it referred to as that before.”
Her chin was raised in that defiant way he’d come to recognize.
“This is in the way for both of us for different reasons,” she retorted, feeling almost desperate because of the havoc that was going on inside of her.
She knew that he wanted to kiss her in order to prove to her that he could turn her world upside down. As for her, with increasing frequency, she’d been catching herself wondering what it was like to be kissed by him. It was now at the point that it was a part of every hour of every day. She wanted it to stop.
“And I don’t think we can really continue productively working together until we resolve this—this—issue,” she cried for lack of a better word, “and move passed it.”
“Okay,” he said gamely, “if that’s what you really want.” Malloy took her into his arms. “Just remember that this was your idea.”
There it was again, she thought. That grin of his. That wicked grin that was half sin, half redemption. She still fought it, still tried to seal herself off from its effects, but it was a losing battle.
“What I really want is not to have it cropping up on me all the time, taking my thoughts prisoner like some kind of guerilla soldier on a mission.”
“So let me get this straight,” he said, doing his best to keep a straight face. “If I kiss you, then this will all be over? The wondering, the anticipating, all of it would be over? Finished?” The way he posed his question made her feel that he highly doubted that would be the outcome.
“God, I hope so.” The words rushed out, riding a heartfelt sigh.
Malloy deliberately leaned in as if to kiss her, then drew his head back at the last possible moment. When she widened her eyes, looking at him both surprised and confused, he said, “Maybe we should take this inside,” then explained, “Nosy neighbors,” reminding her of what she’d just told him about her neighborhood.
Inside.
He wanted to take this inside.
This was a step she hadn’t quite thought out. A step that was certain to instantly make everything twice as intimate as before.
But she couldn’t very well back out now, not when it had been her idea to do this in the first place. He was counting on that, wasn’t he? she thought, seeing the confidence in his eyes. It made her resolve twice over to be immune to him no matter how torrid the kiss turned out to be.
So she murmured something akin to agreement and put her key into the lock. The click that resounded as the lock was released echoed and magnified itself in her head.
Malloy reached behind her and turned the knob, opening the door for her.
Like someone who was caught up in the remnants of a dream, Kristin crossed the threshold and walked inside her house.
The next moment, he followed her steps and eased the door closed behind him. She expected him to take the lead, but he didn’t. Good, bad or neutral, whatever was going to happen next would be entirely up to her.
She felt her heart pounding hard.
“Oh, all right!” she cried out loud in something that resembled terrified frustration.
The next moment, she threw her arms around his neck and brought her mouth up to his.
She’d just meant to complete the act. Lips against lips, skin against skin. The promise of the act was supposed to be far more enticing and fulfilling—at least on the mental level—than the actual execution of the act itself.
Supposed to be.
But reality had a way of playing havoc on expectations, good or bad. And in this case, the expectations paled in the face of reality. Because it wasn’t lip against lip and skin against skin. It turned out to be lightning and thunder, wind and gale and, in all likelihood, a little hurricane and earthquake thrown in, as well.
The latter because Kristin could have sworn, as the kiss kept deepening and deepening to the point that she thought she was in danger of falling off the edge of the world, that the earth had moved beneath her.
Definitely moved.
Not just a tiny bit that would have caused her to doubt her perception, but moved with a mighty jolt. So mighty that she was surprised she was still standing.
Had his arms not tightened around her the way that they had just then, she was certain that she would have fallen. Especially since her knees had somehow been obliterated, taking on the consistency of cotton after it had been left out in the rain for three days.
She wound up clinging to him for dear life even as her mouth remained sealed to his, and something akin to ecstasy riding a lightning bolt darted through her entire body, leaving no part of her untouched.
Chapter 16
Okay. She’d done it.
She’d kissed him, and yes, it had turned out to be a great deal more than she’d bargained for, Kristin realized. But even so, she actually did bargain on that in her own way.
Because this was Malloy Cavanaugh, and countless women couldn’t be wrong.
But she’d satisfied her curiosity. So now was the time to push him back, declare “Done. Finished. Moving on with my life,” and then do it.<
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In a second.
One more second.
Just one more second.
This was never going to happen again, so she needed to have it last a little longer in order to create that firm imprint in her mind that wouldn’t immediately fade at first light.
Oh, who the hell was she kidding? In a heartbeat she’d gotten a ton more than she’d bargained for, and if she lived to be two hundred and twenty-four, this was not an impression that would fade, not at first light, not at any light.
Ever.
She was just using that as an excuse. She didn’t want this to stop.
This was insane, and Kristin knew it, but the rush had seized her. Her heart was pounding so hard and so loud, she was certain she would go deaf.
It didn’t matter.
She didn’t care.
* * *
Malloy had wanted this from the very first moment he’d seen her, looking so stern and professional as she was bending over that mismatched pile of bones that had been dug up. But the longer he waited, the longer he’d wanted to wait, because somewhere inside his head, a little voice had whispered that if he proceeded the way he’d always proceeded, he would get what he’d always gotten, which in the end were just very pleasant memories and an empty space beside him as well as inside of him.
Kristin was different.
He’d sensed it, knew it, and winning her would mean winning not the brass ring but the gold one. The one that carried a great deal of weight with it, not the least of which was commitment, real commitment, something he’d never really considered.
In all honesty, he didn’t even know if he was capable of it.
And Kristin wasn’t the kind of woman meant for a fling or a tryst or two. She was a woman of substance, a woman for all time.
And maybe, just maybe, a woman who was too good for him.
But all that belonged in his cerebral realm.
Physically, emotionally, it was a completely different story.
Every fiber of his being wanted her, wanted to kiss her, to touch her, to make love with her until he was too tired, too worn out to breathe.
The rest of it he’d sort out later. He had no will left, no strength to deny himself what he wanted so supremely.
The actual lovemaking began on her doorstep the second their eyes met. Once inside the house, he started to make love to her in earnest. With his hands, softly touching, caressing, worshipping and, all the while, moving the cloth obstacles away from her body.
With each pass of his hands and each inch of skin that was exposed, he heard Kristin’s breathing growing ever so slightly more pronounced.
Heard his own breathing increasing in tandem. Felt his heart pounding harder as he drew closer and closer to his goal.
She excited him more than any woman he had ever wanted. Any woman he had ever had.
From the beginning, she’d been so cool, so reserved, yet in his heart he’d been certain that a wildcat lived beneath all that icy control.
And he’d been right. He found that exciting beyond words.
* * *
The word “Stop!” echoed in Kristin’s mind, growing weaker and weaker because she really didn’t want him to stop.
As Malloy advanced, she moved back, but not because she was trying to create a chasm between them, but because she wanted to lead him farther into her house, into her living room.
Into her life.
Losing her bearings for a moment, Kristin stumbled backward when the back of her calf encountered the light tan sofa that was against the far wall of the room.
Caught off guard—every fiber of her being completely consumed by the onslaught of his lips—Kristin fell onto the sofa, and he fell with her.
His body pressed hard against hers.
That only further ignited her desire, all but setting her body on fire in every single place that his had touched.
Whatever articles of clothing were still left between them—and they were few—were quickly, impatiently, dealt with and discarded.
And all the while, he continued bathing every inch of her with ardent, openmouthed kisses that were swiftly becoming her entire undoing.
She arched her body in a silent offering as his lips and tongue continued to hold her hostage, making her quite possibly the most willing prisoner in history.
Kristin felt her head spinning, mimicking the rhythm of her heart. Shaken to the core, she half sat up, seeking his mouth and then sealing hers to it.
Her breathing was so ragged, so labored she was in danger of either hyperventilating or suffocating. She did neither. All she wanted, all she focused on, was doing whatever she could to hang on to to this wild, dizzying roller-coaster ride that had become a free fall through space for her.
She clung to Malloy harder.
* * *
Kristin was making him crazy, and he couldn’t hold out much longer.
By his own reckoning, he’d already gone past all human limits that he’d thought himself capable of attaining. And then, unable to maintain the last shred of restraint any longer, Malloy moved until their bodies were perfectly aligned and, pausing for just one split second so that he could look into her eyes, he sank into her and united them.
Not with a driving force that had taken over his being, but slowly, like the calm within the center of a turbulent squall. He didn’t want Kristin to remember this as a sudden storming of her body, but as a passion-laden union of two equal beings. He had nothing to prove, no conquest to triumph over. He just wanted to be with her and have her want to be with him.
Once he’d entered her, Malloy began to move with rhythm and purpose, increasing both with each heartbeat, each complementing movement he felt on her part.
She didn’t just follow, she led.
They each did, taking turns until the rhythm reached an overpowering crescendo, and the final ecstasy found them, wrapping them both in its breath-stealing shower of fireworks.
He held her as if letting go meant certain death. And if death did come right at that moment, then it came. He was where he wanted to be.
With her.
The shower that had enshrouded them retreated by slow, saddening increments. He went on holding Kristin, not wanting to acknowledge the change, the feeling of loss.
His heart was still pounding, as was hers, he noted with secret satisfaction. Slowly, both hearts returned to a semblance of their former states. Still, he didn’t want to let Kristin go, even as he wondered how much longer he could go on holding her.
When he felt her stir against him, he knew his time was almost up. The rest of life was waiting. He wanted it to wait a little longer, but he knew that was asking for too much.
He took a few more subtle breaths, waiting for the world to return to normal—if that was even possible.
“I don’t know about you, but for me, that was a surprise,” he admitted quietly.
Kristin could feel every word he said rumbling against her skin as she lay there with her cheek pressed against his chest.
She raised her head now to look at him, wondering if, now that it was over, he was mocking her. “What do you mean, a surprise?”
He brushed his lips against her hair. “Just that.”
She tried to make sense out of what he was telling her and couldn’t. It was still all too vague. “You didn’t think I was capable of passion?” she guessed. Her eyes unaccountably stung as she said that.
“Oh, I had a feeling that you were,” he assured her. Feeling her breath along his abdomen was definitely having an effect on him. He tried to concentrate on what he was saying. “I just didn’t think it was to that level. I didn’t think I was capable of reaching that level, either.”
Malloy took a breath, trying to steady his pulse, trying to clear his brain.
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“So, did this settle things for you?” he asked, referring to what she’d said on her doorstep. “Can you move on now?”
This was the part where she said yes. Where she added some kind of sophisticated words that would make Malloy think that this meant no more to her than it did to him. All she had to do was say it and be free of him.
But what came out was a question, one that, if she had an ounce of self-preservation running through her veins, would have never seen the light of day.
“Do you want me to?” she asked him.
Ordinarily, he would have said something to the effect that she was her own person, that she could do whatever she wanted to do. That whatever she chose was good with him.
Instead, he breathed, “Oh, hell, no,” and shifted her so that his body was leaning into hers with his really feeling the effects of wanting her all over again, as if he’d never had her—as if he’d always had her and just wanted more.
His voice was almost ragged as he told her, “I want to make love with you all over again, bit by bit, until we’re both too tired to breathe. And then I want to make love with you one more time.”
“Are you always this insatiable?” she asked, already feeling her excitement heightening in anticipation of what was to be.
A giddiness was bubbling inside of her like a newly uncorked bottle of champagne.
“There is no ‘always,’” he told her quietly. Earnestly. “This is different. I can’t explain it. Not to you, not even to myself,” he said with sincerity, almost worshipfully framing her face with his hands. “I can only tell you what I’m feeling right this minute.”
Kristin was trying very hard not to let herself be swept away. Not to allow herself to believe that out of all the women Malloy had ever known, not to mention the ones he had been with, he felt that she was the one who stood out. The one who was different.
She knew better.
And yet, when she looked into his eyes, she knew nothing except that she wanted him to make love with her again, wanted him to take her to the very pinnacle of the world, to the very top of the mountain and then, holding her hand, jump off so she could feel that wild, heart-racing rush consuming her again.