Tess

I flip through the pages of my criminal law journal as I hunker down in my comforter, trying to stay warm. As I highlight the passage at the bottom of the page, I hear the knock on the door I’ve been waiting for. I collect my notes and the journal and shove them beneath my bed, hurrying to slip out of my pajama bottoms before placing my glasses on top of the nightstand.

My nightshirt falls to mid-thigh. It’s white cotton and long-sleeved, and sadly the sexiest piece of clothing I own.

I cautiously walk to the door, moving as quickly as I can, given my blurry vision. Curran knocks once more just as my hand grips the knob and I turn the deadbolt. I smile when I see him standing there, but he doesn’t appear to smile back.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

I frown. “Opening the door.”

“You didn’t even ask who it was.”

“Who else would it be?” I see enough to know he’s raising his eyebrows. “Fine.” I shut the door, lock it, and wait for him to knock. “Who is it?” I ask.

“Your smokin’ studly date for the evening, ma’am.”

“In that case, you’d better check with Officer O’Brien so he can clear you.”

“You’re just a fucking riot, you know that?” he says through the door.

I laugh and fling open the door, moving aside so he can step in. “Was that better?” I tease.

He shuts the door and locks it. “Only slightly. But if you don’t know who’s there, even if he claims to be a cop, ask to see a badge, got me?”

“I understand.”

“Good.” Curran gathers me to him, his hand stroking up my arm to gently rest against my face. He leans in. I close my eyes, expecting the lustful aggression he demonstrated before—a deep kiss that demands I pull him down on top of me.

Instead his lips pass along mine until he carefully pushes his tongue in. I follow his lead, although I find myself confused by his care. But as his tongue continues to meet mine, and his thick leather jacket falls to the floor, I’m no longer worried. He plans to stay, and we have all night.

He lifts me in his arms, carrying me while his mouth explores mine with growing need. As we reach the threshold, he pulls away, angling our bodies to avoid colliding against it. The compassion behind his care makes me smile. For all his brute force, his muscles, and his training, it’s clear there’s more to Curran than brawn.

His eyes sweep the room before settling on my face. “It is cold in here,” he says. “Do you want me to turn up the heat?”

He laughs at the way that sounded, but his humor fades when he senses my unease. “My heat was turned off,” I admit, although I don’t confess why.

“You serious?” Curran scrutinizes my face. Whatever he sees hardens his stance, but he doesn’t press. “Well,” he murmurs. “I s’pose I’m going to have to work harder to keep you warm.”

My softer parts tighten from the promise in his deep timbre. He lowers me to the bed and onto the overturned covers, climbing on top of me and kissing me deep. I gasp as he rakes his groin against my panties.

I yank his sweatshirt over his head when he pushes up. He tosses it aside along with his T-shirt, then quickly relieves me of my nightshirt. I pull in my outstretched hands and cross them over my breasts, worried he might not like what he sees.

Curran lowers himself to my side, his attention and hand leaving my face to drag along my body. “I’ve been dying to see you naked again,” his husky voice whispers. “Will you let me?”

He hooks his finger into the side of my panties, lowering them to my ankles and down past my feet. I let my protective embrace linger a moment more before I gather my courage and allow my hands to fall away.

For the first time in a long while, I’m completely exposed. I hold my breath, expecting to be judged and slighted for my imperfections. Instead he lifts my hand and kisses it, his eyes never leaving mine. “Damn, you’re sexy,” he murmurs.

His chest rises and falls in purposeful motions, in tune with my increasing breaths. My nipples tighten as the cold envelops them, drawing Curran’s focus. As his gaze welds to mine, he reaches with his fingers and rolls one, enticing a sweet sting that causes me to pant.

“Do you have any idea how much I want you?” he asks, right before his mouth finds mine.

He grinds his body against me while he tugs off his shoes and socks. My hands get busy, too, reaching to unsnap his jeans, my body wild to feel his bare flesh against mine.

With small bites, his mouth finds its way to the base of my ear. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he rasps. “Otherwise I won’t.”

He jerks away then, hauling me by my hips until they reach the edge of the bed. As he falls to his knees he eases my legs open, giving his large body room to work. Slow kisses travel between my thighs until they reach the perfect spot. With a wink, and an even sexier smirk, Curran dips forward, using his tongue, his mouth, and gentle nibbles to create the perfect rhythm.

It had been close to a year since I felt a man’s touch. That man was barely wanted, and did little to stir my desires. Curran just started pleasing me, and already, my heart’s threatening to detonate through my sternum.

My body involuntarily responds to his, lifting toward him in tilts that match his quickening flicks. The fingers of one hand part my folds, granting his tongue access to frolic while his other hand skims along my belly to cup and knead my breasts.

It’s then that I lose any sense of control. The sensation, the heat building, it’s almost too much. Yet instead of easing away, Curran rises, pitching my legs over his shoulders so all I can do is succumb.

My shoulders bear my weight, keeping my eyes on his and forcing my legs to fall open. In this position, Curran is free to consume me, and all I can do is watch.

I curse through my gritting teeth, trying in vain to suppress my screams and whimpers.

My efforts are wasted. From one breath to the next, my orgasm builds into a mammoth peak that collapses all at once. I fall in a heap with Curran looming over me, his erect penis parallel to his chest. He climbs on top of me, kissing me hard and reaching between us.

His silky head brushes against me, inciting his throaty moan and a sweet tease that lulls me back to the climactic edge. He adjusts his hips and slowly makes his way inside me. I open my legs wider when he seems to struggle, eager to receive him, until common sense bashes me in the skull.

I break loose from his ravishing mouth and push my hand against his chest. “Wait.”

He freezes, then slowly pulls out, his expression riddled with confusion and his breaths pained. “You don’t want me?” he gasps.

Oh, the hell I don’t. “Do you have protection?”

His mouth falls against my neck, kissing me in a way that causes my eyes to roll back in my head. “It’s okay. I swear, I’m clean,” he promises against my ear.

I groan with frustration from having to move away from him again. “I’m clean, too. But that’s not what I mean.”

He pushes up on his forearms, understanding lighting those magnetic eyes. “You’re not on birth control?”

“No.”

“Shit.”

I stroke his face. “You don’t have anything?”

“Not with me.” He nips my chin. “I’m supposed to be on duty, remember?”

“Oh.”

I can’t tell who’s more disappointed, me or him. As I feel his waning erection slide against my thigh, I begin to think it might be him.

Uh-uh. Not in my bed, buddy.

I reach between us and tug on his bottom lip with my teeth. “We’re not done yet,” I assure him.

Curran squints when I begin to rub, allowing me to slide beneath him. This time, I’m the one who falls to my knees. This time, it’s my turn to be aggressive.

Like in the elevator, I don’t hold back, taking him deep and deeper yet.

My efforts make him vocal. And I like it. I’m in complete control to do what I please, his vulnerability to my mouth and touch surging my desires and his.

Curran stands and gathers my hair, thrusting gently, but speaking in a growl that makes it clear he enjoys the raid on his body. “You like that, baby?” he grunts.

I moan, demonstrating just how much.

He curses, growing louder when I dig my nails into his luscious backside and encourage him to pump faster and further in.

His body shakes against me with his release. I think he means to pull away, to give me some reprieve. But just then he’s mine to have, and he’s not going anywhere.

“Fuck,” he groans when I haul him back, curling his arms around my head.

I slow as he finishes, using more gentle movements, then lift my gaze to meet his. Sweat trickles down his chest and his light skin flushes to a deep red. He clasps my elbows and helps me to my feet, searching my face as if he doesn’t know me.

But he does. No one has ever known me like Curran.