Game over, Phoenix.
The doorbell rang, and Lora’s heart slammed into overdrive. She rose, the robe shifting lightly against her thighs, and she hurried for the door. Lora pressed her eye against the peephole and saw her late-night visitor.
After one glance, she jumped back and flipped the locks. Eyes narrowing, she wrapped her fingers around the knob and yanked the door open.
“Are you insane?” she snarled, glaring at Kenton. “Or do you just have a death wish?”
His brows rose. “Guess you caught the news.” Then his eyes raked down her body, and his lips parted. A soft sigh. Then, “Damn.” Appreciation flavored the curse.
She grabbed his shirt and hauled him inside. “What were you thinking?” Lora slammed the door behind him, barely hearing the groan of the wood. “Were you thinking? Do you want the freak to target you because you pissed him off? Do you want—”
“Yes.”
Insane. The guy was certifiable. “Run that by me again,” she snapped, her voice cracking with anger.
“I want him coming after me.” His eyes lifted back to her face, and yeah, she recognized lust when she saw it. Her fingers shook a bit when she tightened the belt on her robe. Not that there was whole lot to the robe. “I want him coming after me”—his voice was gruff and deep—“instead of trapping some poor bastard in his fire and letting him burn.”
“Do you want to burn?” Lora asked. Kenton didn’t know what it was like. When the fire came and it kissed you, and the pain stole your breath even as you tried to scream.
“I know the game. He’s not going to get me.” His head lowered. She saw his nostrils flare. “But I’ll get him.”
She hoped. God, she hoped. But she’d already seen one lover die.
“I got your address from your records.”
Her eyes widened. Oh, right, she’d forgotten to tell the guy where she lived. Luckily for her, he was a special agent man.
“You said… Christ, you smell good.”
Raspberry body wash. It’d been a gift last Christmas from Amanda Adams, the only other female fighter at the Bringham station.
Kenton cleared his throat. “You said tonight… after…” His fingers tightened around her. “You said—”
Just me and you. My place. Tonight.
But that had been before. When the need was high and the lust was beating in her blood. Before—before he’d gone on TV and challenged a killer.
I won’t lose another lover.
Didn’t he understand what he’d done?
If she had to drag his body from the flames…
Their eyes held. His body pressed against hers. His lips were so close.
Dammit. Damn him.
She grabbed the back of his head and yanked him toward her. Their mouths met, no tentative touch. No light caress.
She was angry with him. Furious at the risk he was taking. She was angry and afraid, and she wanted him.
The press of her lips was hard against his. Demanding. And he met her—dead on. Lips, tongue, tasting, taking. His hands were on her, lifting her and shoving her against the wall. He pushed between her legs, his c**k heavy and full and riding high at the top of his pants.
His fingers tangled in her robe and jerked it free while his mouth stayed locked on hers. He kept thrusting that tongue deep, even as his chest eased back, even as his fingers wrenched the robe away and left her—
Naked.
His head snapped back. “Fuck.”
They’d be getting there, soon.
His hands closed over her br**sts, cupping the mounds, stroking the ni**les, and her head tipped back against the wall. This, this was what she needed. The heat of her blood. The tight yearning in her sex.
“Bed… or I take you here.”
Tempting. Especially when his dark head lowered and his lips closed around her right breast. He took the nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking—
“The first room…” She choked back a moan when she felt the edge of his teeth. “Top of the s-stairs… right.”
He growled. Pulled back. Started stripping. Nice.
The jacket first. Then—
Weapon. Gun.
His hand went to the holster. He secured the weapon and seconds later, his shirt hit the floor.
Bare chest with muscles gleaming. A light covering of dark hair.
Better than nice.
She slid away from him. Being naked had never bothered her. So she lifted her head and smiled at him when he froze. She said simply, “Come get me.”
Then she was gone. He’d follow, she had no doubt. And she’d be waiting in bed.
Lora ran up the stairs, her feet thudding on the steps. She heard Kenton behind her, the rasp of his breath and the hungry whisper of her name.
The light from the hallway spilled inside her bedroom. She’d barely stepped over the threshold when he caught her. Kenton spun her around and yanked her up in his arms. Two steps, and they were on the bed. Crashing down. Falling hard into the soft mattress.
He caged her arms over her head, holding them with one hand even as he took her mouth.
That other hand—yes!—drifted down her stomach and pushed between her legs. He’d find her wet, she knew it. One kiss, and she’d been wet for him. Creamy, hot. Ready.
So long.
All those nights. Staring into the darkness. Wanting.
Alone. But not tonight. By God, not tonight.
It might be wrong. Might be too fast. Might be a million things—
She didn’t care. Screw reason. She’d tried to be a good girl and go that route. She’d never been into the whole good-girl scene.
His fingers parted the folds of her sex. His thumb pushed against her clit, and every muscle in her body tightened. “Easy.” His whisper in the darkness.
But she didn’t want easy. She wanted hard and fast. She wanted pleasure.
She shuddered against him. “No.”
Kenton stilled. “What? Lora, don’t—”
“Not easy.” She lifted her head and bit his shoulder. She tasted the salt on his skin. “Hard. Wild. Give me everything.” Because that was what she wanted.
He pushed up onto his elbows, and his eyes gleamed down at her. “Be careful what you ask for.”
“I know what I want…” His hand was between her thighs. That thumb pushing against her clit wasn’t enough, not even close. She wanted—
He drove two fingers into her. Then pulled them back and drove deeper.
Yes.
His mouth took her breast. Licking. Sucking. The peak was so sensitive that it almost hurt, but the pleasure, yes, it was there, pulsing through her, heating her, driving through her blood.