Chapter Three
As the bathroom door closed behind him, Regan shut her eyes and allowed herself to bathe in post-coital bliss. Tomorrow was time enough to remember that he was the bastard who put her away, that she was still totally pissed off at him, and would be for the rest of her life. Some things, you never got over.
But right now, her body was still buzzing. When she squeezed her thighs together, little tingles radiated out from her sex.
Best orgasm ever.
She was quite aware that this was time-out. Come tomorrow, she’d be back in the real world, and that’s the way things had to be. It didn’t matter how good the orgasms were. He was a cop, and she was an ex-con. She could just imagine her family’s reaction if she brought Nate home. She almost giggled at the idea. Her dad would probably have her certified.
And while Nate clearly wanted her with a desperation echoing her own, she’d bet he was fighting against the need as well. Innate common sense would win out in the end, and he’d no doubt run as far and as fast as he could.
But he’d have to wait until tomorrow. Tonight, he was hers. And she planned to enjoy a whole lot more of those orgasms before the night ended.
Except she suspected that right now, in the bathroom, Nate was plotting his escape. He’d disappeared so damn fast, as if he couldn’t bear to be in the same room with her.
Somehow she had to persuade him it was in his best interest to stay.
He wanted her. And she was stark naked except for four-inch stilettoes. How hard could it be?
All the same, she needed whatever help she could get. He was clearly drawn to the whole bad-girl persona. The panties off in public had been the turning point.
She peered down her body. She was way too thin, but the food in Holloway had been disgusting and her appetite nonexistent. She was nice and toned, though, thanks to Darcy’s exercise regimen. Darcy had been a contender for the world MMA championship before she’d been locked up, and she’d seen it as her duty to train Regan and Summer. And if nothing else, it passed the time. Regan was no world champion, but she’d bet she could knock Nate on his ass if she took him by surprise.
Of course, knocking him on his ass was a last resort, but she’d do it if she had to. First, she’d try to persuade him to cooperate by more peaceable methods. She glanced around for anything to help, her eyes settling on the pink box. She shuffled up the sofa and grabbed the vibrator. She’d thought it was big, but in fact, it wasn’t as big as Nate. She had a little twinge at that.
Crossing her fingers that her friends had remembered batteries, she pressed the button at the base, and it purred to life. She’d never actually used a vibrator before. Hell, she’d always thought they were for people without access to the real thing. But this looked interesting. It was bright pink, the main section rotated slowly, then it had an extension with little ears—where it got its name?—and they were vibrating and would presumably…
The bathroom door opened, and she squeezed her legs together again, shutting the vibrator off as he appeared in the doorway.
She had been so right; Nate was running away.
His pants were fastened, and his white shirt was tucked neatly in. He’d even tried to tame his hair; it was damp at the edges. He’d come to a standstill just inside the room and seemed stuck in place, eyes glued to where she lay on the sofa.
“Are you leaving?” she asked.
He didn’t answer, but his nostrils flared, and his eyes held a slightly dazed look. She licked her lips, and his gaze followed the movement.
He was so fucked, and she hadn’t even started yet.
Yay.
She only just resisted rubbing her hands together.
She held up the vibrator. “Well, I do have this, so I won’t be totally at a loss.” She sighed. “I’ve never used one before, though, and I’m not quite sure what to do.” Was she over the top? Without a doubt. But somehow, she didn’t think Nate cared.
When he took a step toward her, she knew she’d won, even if he wasn’t ready quite yet to accept defeat gracefully.
She pressed the button, and the vibrator hummed to life. “Maybe you could just help me before you go?” She studied it. “I wasn’t sure it would fit, but you’re bigger, and you seemed to fit real good.” Holding his gaze, she let her thighs drop open, felt the cool air against her wetness. God, she was turned on.
She trailed the head of the vibrator over her stomach. His eyes were glued to her, and there was a telltale bulge at his groin.
More yay.
Now the vibrator was moving through her pubic hair, the buzz sending tingles sizzling along her nerves. She parted the folds of her sex with one hand, and then placed the vibrator at the entrance to her body.
A small noise came from her spectator.
“It’s not so difficult after all.” She pushed it inside her, then gave a yelp as the vibrating ears grazed her sensitive clit.
She came in ten seconds.
Shit.
Fastest orgasm ever.
She clamped her eyes tight shut.
Oh. My. God. Too much.
When she opened her eyes, he was right next to the sofa, staring down at her, his expression hot and hungry.
“Take your clothes off,” she murmured. Strike while the iron is hot, that was her motto. And right now, Nate was burning up.
For a few seconds, he didn’t move. Then his hand went to the top button on his shirt and flicked it open. Then the next. His chest was broad, and his ridged abdomen was revealed as the shirt parted. He shrugged out of it. He had a beautiful body, not overly muscly, all long lean lines. And pale skin, as pale as hers—they both needed to get some sun. His pants hung low on his hips, and she held her breath as he toed off his shoes and then unbuckled his belt. He was already hard, his shaft pushing at the material of his pants, and when he finally lowered the zipper, it sprang free. Long and thick, emerging from dark blond curls, flaring to a rosy head. He pushed his pants down over his hips, stepped out of them, and he was naked.
His hips were narrow, his legs long and lightly furred with dark gold. He had narrow feet and long toes. But her gaze kept getting dragged back to his cock. If she just pulled her herself up a little, that cock would be level with her lips. Her mouth went dry and then flooded with saliva. But before she could act on the thought, Nate leaned down over her.
“You don’t need this. Not tonight, anyway.”
She’d almost forgotten the vibrator still lodged inside her. His knuckles brushed her inner thighs, sending a shiver through her, as he grasped the base and pulled it out, dropping it on the table. Then he grabbed her ankles and hauled her around so she was leaning back against the sofa. Still gripping her ankles, he parted her legs and dropped to his knees between them.
Holy shit.
His hands glided up her calves, settling behind her knees, and he raised them so her legs were bent and she was splayed wide open in front of him.
“That is the prettiest thing I have seen in…well, forever.” His tongue swiped over his lower lip and her insides melted. He lowered his head, leaned closer, and his warm breath feathered over her. His fingers trailed a path up her inner thighs, and then delicately parted the folds of her sex.
He kissed her belly, and her hips lifted of their own accord, urging him to where she needed him the most. Then he kissed her inner thigh, and she growled low in her throat.
A chuckle sounded. He was teasing her, and she had a feeling he had wrenched control of this particular encounter from her. But she really didn’t care.
All she cared about right then was how his lips and tongue and teeth would feel. And if she didn’t find out soon, she was going to implode.
Finally, the warm, wet velvet of his tongue stroked over her sex. Starting low down, lingering on the entrance to her pussy, then higher. The tip of his tongue traced delicately over her swollen clit, and sensation swamped her. Tingles shot from her clit to her pussy, up through her belly to her nipples. Her whole body felt connected to that one spot.
Then he moved away, and she wanted him back, right until the moment his tongue pushed deep inside her. The gentleness vanished, and he was all over her sex, licking, stroking, his fingers pushing inside her, caressing the inner walls, while he kissed her clit, his lips soft, then hard. He parted them, taking the swollen nub into his mouth and sucking gently at first, then with more force, backing off as she teetered on the edge.
Finally, he grazed her with his teeth, then nipped down, and she exploded against his mouth. Her hands came up to grip his hair, to press his face against her as a flood of pleasure rolled over her and pulled her under.
She opened her eyes as he backed away, couldn’t speak as he lifted her so she lay full length on the sofa. Almost dazed, she watched as he grabbed a condom from the table and tore it open. Everything was still pulsating when he came over her and filled her with one hard thrust of his hips.
…
Nate opened his eyes.
Where the hell am I?
A little light filtered through the thick curtains, so he guessed it was early morning. His stomach rumbled, loud enough to wake the dead, but not the woman wrapped around him, her arm over his chest, one leg thrown across his thigh, her breathing deep and even.
Then it came back to him. The hotel suite at the Ritz. Regan Malloy.
He delicately extricated himself and shifted away, because his brain clearly couldn’t function with her this close.
Unlike his dick, which was hard. Again. And sore.
After the time on the sofa—would he ever get the sweet taste of her out of his memory?—they’d moved into the bedroom, and they’d made love countless times. She’d been insatiable, climbing on top of him, taking him inside her. He’d never had sex like it. Sex that took his breath away, stole his thoughts. He didn’t think he would ever get over that first moment when he’d filled her and it had felt like—
No. It was just sex. It had been a long time, and he’d wanted her from the first moment he’d set eyes on her. Three years ago. Sitting in the interview room at Scotland Yard.
He’d known the family by reputation. Every police officer in London knew of the Malloys. Career criminals. Her father had spent time inside, though not for many years. So had two of her brothers. Regan had been twenty-two at the time. She’d just finished a college degree in business studies. He hadn’t been taken in by the sweet and innocent look. Maybe because the glint in her eyes belied the sweetness. A gleam that made his dick twitch in his pants. And she’d looked at him knowingly, as though perfectly aware of his wayward thoughts.
He’d doubted that. Because what he’d mostly thought—or rather hoped—was that she was innocent of the crime. He always caught his man, but just that once, he’d wanted to be wrong.
Beside him, she shifted in her sleep, rolling onto her back. He moved slowly so as not to wake her and came up on one elbow so he could watch her sleeping. What was it about her that called to him so strongly? She was beautiful, but the world was full of beautiful women, and most of them weren’t safecracking jewel thieves. Could that be the attraction? Because he knew, ultimately, that she was unavailable, that he wouldn’t have to risk another catastrophic relationship?
He’d married once at twenty-one. His college sweetheart. The marriage had lasted two years—she’d eventually left after telling him he was married to his career. Maybe Melanie had been right. He’d been a crap husband. But it was more that he’d used his career to shut her out. He hadn’t really loved her; he’d just needed someone in his life. But it had been a mistake he’d recognized as soon as they moved in together.
So Regan had been someone he could lust after from afar. Totally unsuitable. Hard as nails—except she wasn’t, not really. He’d seen glimpses of a softer woman.
Whatever. It didn’t matter. Last night had been wrong on so many levels, a one-off that would not be repeated. He was off balance and not thinking straight.
He should leave before she awoke, but somehow, he couldn’t get his body to move. When she snuggled up beside him, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
This time he came awake, hard and fast.
Something prodded him in the side, and he suspected it wasn’t for the first time. He groaned and then blinked. The curtains were open, the morning light bright and harsh.
He felt like shit. Could you get a hangover from too much sex?
Prod. Prod.
“Hey, stop that,” he muttered, rolling over to face his torturer.
“Wakey, wakey, Detective. It’s tomorrow, and the fantasy is over. Time for us to get back to real life and for you to be on your way.”
What the hell? She was throwing him out?
She wore the same dress she’d had on last night, and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, but she had sneakers on her feet instead of stilettos. She poked him again with the heel of one of the red-and-black shoes, as though she couldn’t bear to touch him. He certainly hadn’t gotten that impression last night.
She raised the shoe again, and he held out his hand, palm first. “Hey, stop with the prodding.”
He pushed himself up, dragging the sheet with him, the friction on his dick a sad reminder that he was still hot and hard. Which did nothing for his mood.
Her expression remained closed; she wasn’t giving anything away. Then the closed expression turned to a scowl, and she dropped the shoe and folded her arms across her chest. “Out.”
“No breakfast in bed?”
“No. Haven’t you got some criminals to catch?”
“Are you always this friendly the morning after?”
She pursed her lips. “You know what? I really can’t remember.” She tapped her foot on the carpet, eyes narrowed. “And you know why I can’t remember?”
“I could hazard a guess.”
She ignored the interruption. “Because it’s been a long time. And do you know why it’s been a long time?”
“Again, I—”
“Because some rotten bastard decided to make it his life’s work to make my life hell.”
“It wasn’t personal.”
“Really?”
She didn’t believe him, and his temper flared to life. “Hey, sweetheart, I might have been the one to catch you, but it was hardly my fault that you were guilty as hell.”
He pushed the sheet down and climbed out of bed. Naked, with a boner, both of which he ignored. All the same, he was pleased she took a step back; she should be intimidated. It was a big goddamn cock. He stalked into the bathroom and slammed the door, then glared at himself in the mirror. He glanced at his watch. Crap. Ten o’clock already. He should have been at the station two hours ago.
He needed a shower; he stank like he’d had a nonstop twelve-hour sex marathon. But he made it a quick shower; he wanted out of there.
Once again, she’d thrown him off balance. Had he expected to wake up to a soft and cuddly woman who wanted to get to know him better?
Never going to happen.
His clothes were all in the sitting room where he’d stripped for her just after she’d given herself an orgasm with a vibrator. He’d been all set to leave. Really he had. Right until that moment. She’d taken advantage of him. And it had been so easy.
Wrapping a towel around himself, he went back through to the bedroom. She stood exactly where he’d left her, arms still crossed. In fact, it looked like she hadn’t moved at all.
“It’s my job,” he said, though he didn’t know why. There was no reason to justify himself to her.
“Well, go somewhere else and do it, Detective Sergeant Carter.”
He strode past her into the sitting room, grabbed his pants from the floor, dropped the towel, and pulled them on. When he glanced up, she was in the doorway.
He shrugged into his shirt, buttoned it, tucked it in, then sat on the couch to put on his socks and shoes. His gaze snagged on the pink vibrator and the empty condom packets. She remained silent.
Something in his chest hurt. He ignored it and got to his feet, ran a hand through his hair, then headed for the door. He opened it, intending to leave without another word, but at the last moment he turned and caught an unguarded expression on her face.
“Good-bye, Regan Malloy. I had a good time last night.”
“So did I. Too bad it’s never going to happen again.”
And he closed the door behind him.