Midnight Hero - By Diana Duncan Page 0,12
into the spiraling pleasure, into the inferno. Searing connection arced between them, fused them into one mind, one body.
One spirit.
His fingers threaded into her hair, kneading her scalp, and she melted against him. They touched and tasted. Took and gave back. This strange phenomenon happened every time he touched her. He scrambled her brains, ignited her body. Satisfied her heart. She’d never needed, wanted anything like she needed him. Weightless, she floated in hot, bubbling delight.
One broad hand slid down her spine to the small of her back, both soothing and inciting. He pressed her closer, and his arousal pulsed hard and insistent against her. Heartbeat slammed against heartbeat. Desire sparked in her veins, sizzled through her limbs. His passion fueled hers and she moaned into his mouth. Liquid, shattering intimacy that was so much more than physical welled inside her. Nothing, no one existed but Con.
He broke the kiss, and his essence ebbed away, leaving her empty and aching. He took a half step back and loss punched into her heart like a fist, leaving it bruised and lonely.
His chest heaved with ragged breaths, and his pulse pistoned in his throat like a jackhammer. Desire smoked his gaze. “You know what you get when you mix fire and water, Bailey?”
Dazed, she looked up at him, unable to think. To speak. She shook her head.
He gave her a shaky grin. “Steam.”
Chapter 3
1:00 p.m.
Panting, Con wrestled for self-control, which had incinerated in the vicinity of his kibbles and bits. Breaking the connection between them and stepping back had taken every ounce of willpower. As much as he wanted to make love to Bailey until she forgot every objection, they both needed clear heads.
He looked at the woman who owned him, body and soul. Her cheeks were flushed pinker than the roses he’d brought, her lips swollen from his kisses and her eyes sparks of blue flame. His heart jolted. He’d rather chop off his right arm than lose her. Which would damn well wreak havoc on his status as the team’s best shooter.
Bailey leaned against the counter, her uneven breathing loud in the small space. “Kissing doesn’t solve anything.”
When his breathing slowed, he brushed back a red-gold curl that had strayed over her temple. He couldn’t stop a grin. “Very good kissing. Set-my-tighty-whities-on-fire kissing.”
“We need results, here.”
“Believe me, sweetheart, you got plenty of results.” Pressed body to body mere seconds ago, she couldn’t have any doubts about what he meant.
She smiled, but worried her lower lip with her teeth, drawing his focus to where his mouth had sipped her minty sweetness. His gut clutched on a rush of heat, and he battled the impulse to kiss her again. As if she read his thoughts, her smile wobbled. “We’re complicating things even more.”
“I hate to admit it, but I agree. Come home with me where we can discuss this in private.”
She hesitated and he held his breath, waiting. Finally, she shook her head. “I can’t be alone with you.”
“You’re not afraid of me.” Not a question—a challenge.
“Of course not.” Her glance flitted around the room, her posture as tense and wary as a cornered suspect’s. “I’m afraid of myself. I don’t have any willpower where you’re concerned. You’re a dangerous narcotic, and I can’t ‘just say no.’”
“Don’t feel like the Lone Ranger, darlin’. I could stand to attend a few Bailey-Anonymous meetings myself.”
Her gaze collided with his and her eyes widened with anxiety. “This is impossible. What are we going to do?”
“Sit with me.” Holding her hand, he led her to the reading area. One night she’d confessed she’d volunteered three weeks of her own time last year during the remodeling to choose the store’s decor. A natural-born nester, she would create a warm, cozy home for their family. All he had to do was convince her.
When they moved to the love seat, she tried to scoot to the opposite corner. He pulled her down beside him. “You’re not running away from me that easily.” Physically or emotionally.
“We’re here to talk, remember?”
“I remember. However, if you have a more prone scenario in mind, sing out.” He patted the cushion. “It’s a tad small, but will get the job done.” He wiggled his eyebrows, hoping his teasing would lighten the mood. “I meant the love seat.”
Her lips twitched. It was working. “I’m well aware of your…arsenal, Officer. There’s no need for shameless bragging.”
“A woman who appreciates a double-action, wide-barrel shotgun.”
A reluctant grin bloomed. “Behave, Conall Patrick O’Rourke.”
“Uh-oh. The full name, I’m in trouble