The Maddest Obsession (Made 2)

I couldn’t help but roll my ass back against his erection. He grabbed my hip, and I thought he was going to stop me, but instead, he grinded me harder against him. Heat drifted and tightened between my legs as I rolled my hips, in nothing but the rustle of sheets and the sound of our breaths.

I turned in his arms, and he rolled onto his back as I straddled him. He ran his hands up my thighs, his half-lidded eyes taking in my naked body.

My gaze dropped to his lips. I couldn’t believe he’d never kissed another woman but me. The man had volunteers lined up from here to China, for goodness’ sake. Though, I had to admit, the fact I’d been the only one—his only experience in that department—was incredibly hot.

Surely, he’d had to put in an effort to keep from kissing the women he’d dated. One would think it’d be easier just to kiss them, and to me, that meant he had a resilient motivation. I knew it wasn’t germs. A couple of the times he’d gone down on me, the man had ventured lower, to a hole I’d never let another touch before, and I doubted he’d just gotten lost. But somehow, I knew, if I wasn’t careful with my questions, they would blow up in my face.

I ran my hands up his chest. “What do you do for the Bureau?”

“Whatever they want me to do.”

“So . . . say they told you to go set fire to the old lady’s apartment next door.”

“I’d set fire to her apartment.”

I swallowed, and the next question came out a little breathless. “Say they told you to kill me.”

I met his gaze.

Possessive blue flames.

And something morally ambiguous.

His hand came up to my throat and his thumb brushed across my pulse. Then, he lightly squeezed. “I’d have to decline.”

The pressure building in my lungs released with my next breath, and I forced a small smile to my lips. “Because I’m too much fun?”

“Because you’re mine.”

My smile fell.

The heat of his stare seeped into my chest, weighing it down with warmth. I slid my hands to the sheets on either side of him and pressed my front against his. I was so much smaller than him, and there was a vivid contrast of my olive skin and his lighter tone amongst waves of chocolate hair and black tattoos.

“Tell me why you kiss me,” I breathed against his lips.

I thought he might answer me this time.

He didn’t.

He rolled me onto my back and made me forget my own name.

“So, do you have a day job . . . or do you just sit around like a superhero villain in your suit and tie, waiting for them to tell you which old lady’s apartment to burn down?” I asked him the next morning, while I still lay in bed and he was buttoning his shirt.

“I have a day job, like most adult Americans,” he said, amused. “I start back tomorrow.”

I pursed my lips. “Was that a dig on me, Officer? I’ll have you know, I have a very busy schedule as it is. You’re lucky I can even pencil you in.”

On his way out of the room, he grabbed my ankle and dragged me down the bed toward him. His voice was rough as he pulled my face up to his. “Move shit around if you have to and pencil me in for tonight.” Then, he kissed me, placing a sharp nip on my bottom lip.

When he left, I fell back to the bed with a sigh and a smarting lip.

I tried to stop it, but I couldn’t.

A stupid smile overtook my face.

He got home around eight o’clock that night and stopped short in his bedroom doorway. I was lying on his bed on my stomach, with my feet in the air and my ankles crossed. Naked.

It was bold.