Page 93 of Delusion in Death

He let her ease him back, but caught her hands and drew her down to him. He so much wanted her mouth, wanted that most simple, most basic of matings before the heat and the hurry.

She gave, thrilled to be wanted, and to want. All but felt her skin shimmer under the glide of his hands. While she shimmered she tasted. The strong line of his throat, the sculpted lines of his torso, the spread of his shoulders.

Not a dream, but dreamy as they moved together, touched, savored. Neither of them heard the solid thump of the cat as he leaped down from the bed, undoubtedly in disgust.

Soft sighs, the whisper of sheets, a sudden catch of breath, and the world centered in that wide pool of bed even as the sky window over it bloomed with the first pale lights of dawn.

In its pearly glow she rose over him again. And took him in with a shudder, shudder of gluttonous pleasure. All and more, she thought as the need squeezed her heart. Together they were all and more.

While she rode him he watched her in that breaking light, her eyes gold and fierce, her long, lean body gleaming. With her hair like a tousled crown, her head fell back as the climax took her. Then even her image blurred as she whipped him to the edge of control. As she snapped it like a single thin thread.

As he broke, he reached for her, and held her close on the long fall.

When she got her breath back, they were still tangled together. And the cat had climbed back onto the bed to stare at them, his bicolored eyes unblinking.

“What’s his problem?” she asked.

“I expect we disturbed his beauty sleep.”

“He gets so much sleep he ought to be the Roarke of cats.”

“The what?”

“I was thinking, before your telepathy woke you up, how pretty you are. Then, since you woke up, I figured I might as well take advantage of you.”

“It’s appreciated.”

“You were probably almost ready to get up anyway, to slink off and start the first stage of your daily world domination.”

He glanced toward the clock. “Ah well, I’ll have to get a late start on that today.”

“I’d better get started on my daily hunt for bad guys.”

“Let’s have coffee in bed first.”

She liked the sound of it. “Who gets up to get it?”

“That’s a question. Rock, paper, scissors?”

“You’ll cheat.”

“How?”

“It’s the telepathy.”

“Ah yes. Then you might as well get it, as you’ll lose anyway.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” She shifted enough to hold out a fist. He held out his in turn. Counted to three.

“Damn it,” she mumbled as his paper covered her rock.

She rolled out of bed, fed the cat as she programmed the coffee.

“Tell me about the dream.”

“It was weird. Mixed up. All this digging into the Urbans. That’s where I was, here in New York.”

She brought the coffee back, told him.

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