Page 93 of The Dollmaker

She moistened her lips, staring at him with doe eyes hazy with desire. He pushed her legs open, baring her before him, and took her clitoris in his mouth. She arched, threading her fingers in his hair.

He knew every spot on her body. Knew where to lick, kiss, or press to take her to the brink and then pull back. He teased her. Listened as her breath quickened, and when he thought she’d come, he raised his head to her breast and sucked. Again she whimpered, and he took a devilish pleasure in knowing he could make her so hot.

She smoothed her hands up his thighs and reached for his cock. She also hadn’t forgotten how to push his buttons. When she wrapped her hands around his erection, his control slipped from his fingers.

He pulled free of her touch and pushed her legs wider. He drove into her again, this time not hesitating but pumping in and out with increasing speed. She arched, reached for her clit, and rubbed with one hand while she grabbed his ass with the other.

Jesus, she was so hot.

He rammed into her faster and faster. Her breathing grew quick and urgent until finally her body stiffened and her fingernails dug into his back as she orgasmed. He let go and came inside her, the wave shuddering violently through him.

For a moment he collapsed against her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. His heart hammered. Still inside her, he allowed the weight of his body to press her into the mattress. He’d fantasized about this for too long to let it go quickly. He didn’t want this to end.

Finally, she smoothed a hand over him. Her gentle touch, no doubt meant as a dreamy kindness, burned along his skin as a reminder that this moment would soon be over. They’d dress. Leave this room. And the tension and distance would return. That was something he wasn’t sure he could bear.

“Are you okay?” he asked, needing to hear her voice.

“Yes.” She moistened her lips, her expression a mixture of satiety and embarrassment. “We should talk.”

The talk.They’d used thousands of miles and silent reserve to fend it off for eight months. He sat up. “Sure. Talk.”

She scooted up into a sitting position. She looked around for her clothes and hurried across the room to retrieve them. While he sat and watched her, she scooped her sweater up off the floor and pulled it on over her head. She tugged on her pants. “We’ve got to figure it out between us.”

“What’s there to figure?” He ran a hand over his short hair.

She pushed a long lock of hair from her eyes and wound her hair into a knot that fell around her shoulders as soon as she released it. He knew she hated wearing her hair loose, but he loved touching it when it hung free around her shoulders or skimmed the top of her breasts.

“I want the stuff that happens outside this room to work,” she said.

“Why now? You didn’t want it eight months ago.”

She shook her head. “You’re getting angry.”

“I’m not.” He shoved out a breath. He at least owed her the truth. “I am angry. At myself. I rushed us into this marriage, and that was a mistake.”

“You didn’t drag me kicking and screaming. I wanted it also.”

“And you left it.”

She fisted her fingers. “Because you shut me out.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I never pretended to be anything I wasn’t.”

“You were different in the beginning. We were happy. The Anderson case changed you.”

He shook his head, knowing he couldn’t blame all this on one case. “It brought to the surface what was always there. I’ve always been driven. I like catching bad guys. And as much as I’d like to tell you I want to be different, the truth is, I like my job. I’m good at it, and I hope to be locking up scum until my last days on this earth.”

“I don’t mind the long hours, the dedication it takes, but you made me feel like a stranger in my own home.” Her voice cracked.

Her raw pain jabbed at him more than any anger she could hurl his way. He rose and crossed to his pants, yanking them over his legs. “That’s on you, not me.”

Her head dropped as if the fight abandoned her. “God, you’re so damn hard to love. Why won’t you let me just love you?”

Hearing the worry and shame in her voice stoked his frustration. He didn’t know how to be anyone else. He didn’t know how to be the person she needed. “What happened here doesn’t change who I am. You need to hear that.”

Tessa looked at him, her eyes filled with unspoken determination. “I don’t buy that. I’m convinced we’re good for each other.”

He could still taste her on his lips. Smell that damn jasmine soap on her skin. And he wanted her more now than he did minutes ago. “You might be good for me, but I’m not good for you.”

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