‘Scarlett,’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘Did I hurt you?’

‘No.’ Unable to stop the tears, she let go of the sheets and ran her hands up his chest, feeling the hair tickle the flesh between her fingers. ‘It was . . . God, Marcus.’ She drew a breath and let it out, feeling her body settle, feeling the tightness in her chest begin to ebb. ‘I’ve never . . . not like that. Never like that. Just . . . intense. Give me a second to come down.’

But he didn’t, shoving his hands into her hair and taking her mouth with a fierceness that bordered on pain, but wasn’t. She dug her fingers into his shoulders and kissed him back, the taste of herself on his lips making her shiver violently. His hips thrust and rolled, his erection hard as iron against her inner thigh.

Blindly he groped under the pillow and pulled out a foil wrapper. ‘When did you put that there?’ she asked.

‘Before I got in the shower.’ He kissed her hard again, then pushed himself to his knees between her legs and ripped the packet with his teeth, almost snarling when she reached to help him. ‘Don’t,’ he warned. ‘If you touch me, it’ll be all over.’

‘No, don’t let it be over. Not yet.’ Watching as he rolled the condom over himself, she licked her lips, a new thought surprising her. Going down on a man was never something she’d enjoyed, but seeing Marcus so huge and . . . beautiful, she knew she would. Not now, but later. She wanted to make him groan and beg the way he’d done to her.

She looked up and realized he’d been watching her stare at him, and that it had stoked him even higher. ‘Later,’ he growled, not even a hint of his normally smooth voice remaining. ‘I need to be inside you. Now.’ Bracing his weight on his arms, he thrust up into her in a single hard stroke, making her moan at the pleasure of being filled. Being taken.

It took her a second to realize that he’d stopped. ‘Are you okay? Did I hurt you?’ he asked with a frown. He was breathing hard, his arms trembling from the strain of holding himself immobile.

‘I’m fine,’ she breathed. ‘Better than fine. Don’t stop. Please.’

‘Thank God,’ he muttered, and began to move again. ‘You feel so good, I’m not sure I could have stopped.’

But he could have, and they both knew it. Because he was still in total control of himself. And her. He knew exactly what to do, how to move. All the right spots to make her moan. He aroused her with his body, but also with the expression he wore as he watched her. It was primal and possessive, proud and lustful, but also . . .

Reverent, she thought, emotion rising to fill her throat once again. He handled her carefully, utterly and completely focused on her every reaction, her every sigh. He made her buck and squirm beneath him, beg and curse and beg again until she wanted to scream from frustration. But still he held back.

He was making sure she felt pleasure even as he took his own, but suddenly that wasn’t enough. She wanted to feel him lose control. Wanted to feel the storm she saw in his eyes suck her in and draw her under.

She cupped his face in her hands, caressed his cheekbones with her thumbs. ‘Let go,’ she whispered. ‘Take what you want. I won’t break. I promise.’

He shuddered. ‘I can’t. I want too much. I’ll hurt you.’

This was an important moment – she knew it instinctively. One that would set the tone for all the moments to come. She hooked her foot around his calf and, using her other foot as leverage, flipped him to his back so quickly that he lay there, still deep inside her, staring, his eyes wide and stunned. And then darkly aroused. His jaw tightened, his hands gripping her hips so hard it hurt. But it was good hurt, especially when he yanked her hips down on him, driving even deeper up into her.

She leaned over, bit his lip. ‘I won’t break,’ she repeated, enunciating every word, then sat back and rode him hard.

A groan ripped out of his chest and he arched his back, digging his feet into the mattress so that he could push himself higher. Then he rolled them again and drove into her over and over, his thrusts bordering on savage. She met each one, locking his gaze with hers, daring him to slow down.

‘Not a chance, Detective,’ he muttered, and she laughed.

This, she thought, this is the way it’s supposed to be. The way we’re supposed to be.

They said nothing more, gazes locked. Marcus took her hands in his, threading their fingers together, the connection a tender one in stark contrast with the way their bodies were coming together everywhere else.

While the first orgasm had been an explosion, the second hit her like a storm surge, slowly and powerfully pushing every conscious thought out of its way, leaving nothing but pleasure in its wake.

She came down sighing his name, somehow knowing he’d been watching her the whole time, waiting until she could watch him. She squeezed his hands with her own, squeezed his erection with her inner muscles. ‘Now,’ she whispered. ‘Let me see.’

He did, and he was as beautiful as she’d known he’d be. Muscles straining, his erection throbbing and pulsing inside her, his body shuddering as he came. He exhaled once and shuddered as an aftershock kicked in. He released her hands, lowering his body from the push-up position he’d maintained throughout to rest his weight on his forearms. He dropped his forehead to rest gently against hers.

‘Scarlett.’ It was barely a murmur, but delivered in the velvet voice she’d heard in her dreams for nine long months.

She lifted her hands to stroke his face, her fingers tracing his lips. ‘This was more.’

‘Yeah. I knew it would be, but I still didn’t expect this.’ He kissed her then, long and lush, leaving her breathless once again. ‘I don’t want to move. Ever.’

‘Then don’t.’ She spread her fingers over his chest, sweeping her hands back and forth to feel the hairs tickling her palms. ‘Stay here with me, just a little longer.’

Twenty-six

Cincinnati, Ohio

Wednesday 5 August, 12.30 A.M.

Marcus came out of the bathroom and stopped in his tracks. Scarlett was standing next to the bed, bent over the mattress, her shapely butt pointed straight at him. His cock stirred and stood at attention as his mouth watered, and it took him a few seconds to realize that she was stripping the bed.

He crossed the room to cozy up behind her, chuckling when she startled and cursed.

‘Dammit, Marcus, stop sneaking up on me.’ But she didn’t sound angry as she straightened and leaned back into him, resting her forearms on his when he wrapped his arms around her waist. She stiffened in surprise when his cock pressed against her lower back. ‘Wow. You’re . . . already . . . again. Wow.’

His ego preened. ‘It didn’t hurt to see you bent over the bed. It gave me ideas.’

‘Oh really? I’d like to hear them.’

He brushed his lips over her ear. ‘I believe in show, not tell.’

She hummed, interested. ‘We need to finish changing the sheets first.’

‘I guess we did make them a little wet.’

She looked over her shoulder and laughed up at him. ‘More than a little. Do me a favor and go to the hall closet and get another set. The ones on the top shelf fit this bed.’

He kissed her smiling mouth and reluctantly let her go. The king-sized sheets were exactly where she’d said, the closet meticulously arranged. It appeared that his detective was a bit of a neat freak, which was a relief to see. He was a bit of a neat freak himself.

He took the sheets back into her room and stopped cold again. She was kneeling on the floor beside the bare mattress, her head and one arm under the bed. And her butt pointed straight at him once more.

‘Woman, are you trying to kill me?’ he whined.