In a movement he was hardly aware of, he spun her around, pressed her back against the wall, and was ravaging her mouth.
Her heart kicked in her chest, drove the breath out of her body. She gripped his shoulders as much for balance as in response to the sudden, violent need that shot from him to her and fused them together.
She yielded, utterly, then locked her arms around his neck and poured herself back.
Here, was all her dazzled mind could think. Oh, here, at last.
His hands raced over her, molded and somehow recognized each curve. And the recognition seared through him, as hot and real as the surge of desire. He wanted that taste, had to have it inside him, to swallow it whole. He assaulted her mouth like a man feeding after a lifelong fast, filled himself with the flavors of her, all of them dark, ripe, succulent.
She was there for him, had always been thereâimpossibly there. And he knew that if he didnât pull back, heâd never be able to survive without her.
He slapped his hands on the wall on either side of her head to stop himself from touching, to stop himself from taking. Fighting to regain both his breath and his sanity, he eased out of the kiss, stepped away.
She continued to lean back against the wall, her eyes closed, her skin luminous with passion. By the time her lashes fluttered up and those slumberous blue eyes focused, he had his control snapped back ruthlessly in place.
âUnpredictable,â she managed, barely resisting the urge to press both hands to her galloping heart. âVery.â
âI warned you about pushing the wrong buttons.â His voice was cool, edging toward cold, and had the effect of a backhand slap.
She flinched from it, might have reeled, if she hadnât been braced by the wall. His eyes narrowed fractionally at the reaction. Hurt? he wondered. No, that was ridiculous. She was a veteran game player and knew all the angles.
âYes, you did.â She straightened, pride stiffening her spine and forcing her lips to curve in a casual smile. âIâm just so resistant to warnings.â
He thought she should be required by law to carry oneâDanger! Woman!
âIâve got work to do. I can give you another five minutes, if you want me to wait while you pack some things.â
Oh, you bastard, she thought. How can you be so cool, so unaffected? âYou toddle right along, handsome. Iâll be fine.â
âIâd prefer you werenât in the house alone for the moment. Go pack some things.â
âItâs my home.â
âRight now, itâs a crime scene. Youâre down to four and a half minutes.â
Fury vibrated through her in hot, pulsing beats. âI donât need anything here.â She turned, started out, whirling back when he took her arm. âWhat?â
âYou need clothes,â he said, patient now. âFor a day or two.â
âDo you really think Iâd wear anything that bastard might have touched?â
âThatâs a foolish and a predictable reaction.â His tone didnât soften in the least. âYouâre not a foolish or a predictable woman. Donât be a victim, Grace. Go pack your things.â
He was right. She could have despised him for that alone. But the frustrated need still fisted inside her was a much better reason. She said nothing at all, simply turned again and walked away.
When he didnât hear the front door slam, he was satisfied that sheâd gone upstairs to pack, as heâd told her to. Seth turned off the coffeemaker, rinsed the cups and set them in the sink, then went out to wait for her.
She was a fascinating woman, he thought. Full of temperament, energy and ego. And she was undoing him, knot by carefully tied knot. How she knew exactly what strings to pull to do so was just one more mystery.
Heâd taken this case on, he reminded himself. Riding a desk and delegating were only part of the job. He needed to
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