Page 110 of Bonded in Death

When she walked into the bedroom and saw the cat sprawled on the bed, she immediately felt better. But winding through the better, she was embarrassed to realize, was a strong thread of resentment.

She pointed at him. “He didn’t give me the time of day— Why did I say that? How’s a cat supposed to tell you the time? God, I hate saying things that make no sense. I’m surprised he’s not bunking with one of them.”

“They’re an entertaining and attentive novelty. You’re home.”

Home, she thought. Sanctuary or safe house, it was still home. Andthat’s where they were. A couple hours before, they’d been one wrong move away from a very nasty death.

She gave Roarke one long look, then put her hands on his shoulders. She boosted herself up, wrapped her legs around his waist, and locked her mouth to his.

“I had caffeine and sugar.” Revved and ready, she nipped her teeth along his throat. “We could’ve been pink mist, but we’re not. And I still like your face.”

“I’ll need to deactivate forty-year-old bombs more often.”

“Solid negative there.” She went back to his mouth as he dropped them both on the bed.

The cat gave one low growl of annoyance as he rolled away and leaped off the bed.

“Serves him right. And why is it whenever I’m in a hurry, you’re wearing too many clothes?”

“So are you, plus you’re still armed. But we’ll take care of that.”

It didn’t take him long to release her weapon harness, strip that away. It took her longer to tug him out of his jacket as his mouth, his hands, distracted her. While she struggled with his shirt, he had hers off so quickly it might not have been there in the first place.

Now, with her blood running hot, her pulse thumping fast, he drew up her legs to pull off her boots.

“Nearly there.”

“Come here, come here.”

She dragged him back to her, just to feel the weight, the shape of him over her, the taste, the heat of his mouth on hers.

All so real, so warm. So alive.

So his hands stroked down her, taking that pleasure, down the long torso, the narrow hips, those endless legs.

If he burned for her, she’d kindled the flame, and it spread as he took his mouth over flesh and bone and muscle.

His warrior, his heart, his abiding passion.

She stripped off his shirt; he peeled away her tank. And they were flesh to flesh, body to body, heart to heart while the kiss took on a wildness that raced through both of them.

When his mouth found her breast, she arched under him. On strangled cries of pleasure and impatience, she fought with his belt.

Take more. Take me. Take all.

Those clever fingers found her first, found her hot and wet and sent her flying. Even as she flew, he drove into her so that pleasure, dark and desperate, slammed into release, then release into even more pleasure.

Once again, she locked her legs around him. Body quaking, need building impossibly again, she took his face in her hands. Looking into those vivid blue eyes, she saw the same need, the same heart, the same unity.

“I love you.”

“A ghrá.”

With his eyes on hers, he let himself fall into her.

She didn’t remember dropping into sleep, but she woke in gloomy light with the sky window overhead running with rain. The cat curled at her back, and the bed beside her was empty.

Already at work, she thought, but not yet sitting across the room with the screen scrolling on mute. She missed that, the routine of that, but at the moment, routine had gone to hell.

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