Midnight Hero - By Diana Duncan Page 0,50

from him.”

“Thank you, darlin’.” He smiled at her. “Dad didn’t just recover Letty’s stolen property. After he apprehended the jerk, she felt safe again. The arrest, neighborhood watch and classes restored the most valuable things the mugger stole—her confidence, independence and peace of mind. Dad returned those to her. That’s when I knew for sure I wanted to be a cop.”

“I can see why.”

“Do you?” He held her gaze. “Like I said before, I stand between Letty and the bad guys. Between you and the bad guys. Between evil and the innocent.”

“You’re an incredible man, do you know that?”

“What I’m trying to explain is that when you know your priorities, and what you value most, the right decisions follow.” His soft breath, smelling enticingly of apples and cinnamon, teased her lips. “Only you know your motives. Only you will know for certain you’re doing the right thing.”

“It’s so complicated.”

“If the right thing was easy, baby, more people would do it.” His beautiful mouth moved closer, and his soft lips touched hers. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “When the time comes, you’ll know.”

She slid her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. Empowered by the bond created by his mouth on hers, his body pressed to hers, she poured out her pent-up feelings. Trying to tell him without words how much she needed him. Valued him. Cherished him.

In Con’s embrace was exactly where she belonged.

He threaded his fingers into her hair, holding her as close as two people could be. His silky tongue teased, danced, mated with hers in a fierce, primitive rhythm only the two of them knew. His taste, his scent flooded her senses. Nothing existed but him. Nothing mattered except love. His for her, hers for him.

He lingered over her mouth, drinking her in. Cherishing her in return. Nourishing and strengthening her more than the food. The soul-deep connection thrummed like the heavy jungle beat of drums between them.

His lips kissed a hot, moist path along her jaw, her earlobe, the hollow of her neck. His ragged breaths teased her skin, raising goose bumps. The fine sandpaper brush of his beard rasped in sensual accompaniment to his talented mouth. Pleasure raced with gossamer wings over her nerve endings, dipping into every curve and hollow, then settling, warm and liquid in her center.

Desire shimmered, arced into passion. Passion exploded into aching need.

Fire burned inside her. Con’s bright, hot fire that consumed everything, yet gave back, tenfold. She slid her hands under his turtleneck, her palms gliding over his smooth, heated skin. Sculpted pecs bunched under her caress, and he groaned.

Pulse pounding, she arched against him, reveling in his arousal. Her fingertips trailed down ridged abs and skimmed along his taut belly. She unsnapped his jeans, his body hard and ready under the rough denim. “Make love to me, Con. So a part of me will always live in you, and you in me.”

She struggled for breath, for hope. For life. “So that no matter what happens, we will always have this moment.”

Chapter 9

7:00 p.m.

Con’s heart stumbled. Oh, yeah. The appeal he’d waited so long to hear. He grasped Bailey’s shirts and tugged them upward. His mind’s eye saw him strip them off, along with her jeans. Saw full breasts cupped by the black lace camisole. Milky white skin covered only by skimpy black panties. Her body bared to his stroking hands, arching under his eager mouth. He saw her eyes darken as he slid into her damp heat, her delicious lips part in a gasp of pleasure as she climaxed.

Saw the bad guys bursting in on them at the most inopportune moment, machine guns firing.

“Whoa!” He jerked back from the vision. From the warm, willing woman in his arms.

Fighting his way out of the passion-drugged high was like trying to stop a speeding getaway car by standing spread-eagled in the middle of the freeway. He was just as likely to get mowed down. His breathing as jagged as his composure, he gently grasped Bailey’s hands and removed them from the hot zone. “As much as I want to make love to you, darlin’—” He sucked in a shaky breath and pulled down her rumpled shirts. “We can’t.”

She stared at him, dazed and vulnerable. “Why not?”

Damn, with her looking at him with her heart in her eyes, breaking it off wrenched his guts. When seconds ago, he’d felt her love and desire pouring into him in a heady rush. When her sweet taste still flooded his palate. Her flowery, feminine