Designed for Murder (Killer Style 4)

“Did you?” The sound of the blanket sliding off of her and hitting the floor accompanied her question.

“Yes.” No point in lying now, especially when he was pitching a tent in a sleeping bag.

The flutter of something hitting the floor pulled his focus toward her. Mika stood by the couch in only her green panties. Her tousled hair fell across her bare shoulders, the longest strands brushing against the pale brown of her hard nipples.

“Show me how much you liked it.” She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and slipped them off.

He didn’t need a second invitation.

Chapter Six

“A dress makes no sense unless it inspires me to want to take it off you.”

—Francoise Sagan

The cool night air slid over Mika’s overheated bare skin. Watching him watching her favorite porn videos had turned her on more than she realized it could. When the three-way first reflected in the mirror behind the desk, a flash of embarrassment flared in her cheeks. But when Carlos didn’t turn it off…didn’t turn away…her core tightened in response to seeing the way he squirmed in his seat, how his jaw had tensed and his hands had tightened into fists as the scene played. By the time he’d ripped the earbuds out, she knew exactly what was going to happen next.

So here she stood, naked and aching for his touch to banish her personal demons and make her forget for a few hours that bad things happened. Their arguments had been foreplay, and now she wanted the main event. But he had on too many clothes. It might just be his boxer briefs, but it was too much. His hard length was outlined against tight cotton, the head pointing downward but straining against it. She hadn’t gotten the chance to take her time tasting his cock last night. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Carlos trailed a finger across her collarbone, tracing it from shoulder to chest and leaving a steaming line of desire

in its wake. “This will complicate things.”

“No.” She drew his hand lower so he palmed her breast, and the friction of his palm against her hard nipple was equal parts relief and teasing agony. “It simplifies everything.”

He cupped her soft flesh, then rotated his hand and rolled her nipple between his thumb and finger with just enough sharp pressure to make her knees weak. The temptation to close her eyes and just feel overwhelmed her, but she couldn’t. Not yet. Instead, she stared up at him, taking in the way his brown eyes had darkened to nearly black with desire as the hunger for her built.

“I can’t afford to lose focus.” His laser-beam attention was centered on her breasts, but judging by the tightness in his jaw, he wasn’t in danger of losing focus on her tits. “Not again.”

“So don’t.” It was a plea. It was a challenge. It was a prayer.

“We can’t let this affect the case,” he said, his voice straining with need as his hands slid down her sides to rest on the swell of her hips.

“You said you liked to work out while you thought.” Holding his face between her hands, she raised herself up on her toes and tilted her face so her lips were an inch from his. So close she could feel him without touching, an undeniable electricity tingling between them. “Neither of us is sleeping tonight anyway, so we might as well…think.”

She brought her parted lips to his, the need to taste him, all of him, taking the place of whatever need had taken her this far. Now it wasn’t about anything but Carlos. She swept her tongue across his bottom lip, and he teased it with his own. There was always an undercurrent of challenge with him, always a promise of something more. It’s what had drawn her to him at Feeny’s and what made arguing with him so exhilarating. He pressed turn-on buttons she hadn’t known she’d had.

She broke the kiss and lowered her heels back to the ground. She ran her hands down his chest, the springy curls of his hair prickly against her palms as she let gravity do its job and sank until her knees touched the ground between his feet.

Echoing her movements from earlier, she curled her fingers around the elastic of his boxers’ waistband and inched them down with a slowness that tested her own patience as much as his. He fisted his hands by his hips and inhaled sharply when she stopped just as the base of his hard cock appeared.

“Are you trying to tease me?” he groaned.

She wet her lips and then blew softly against the tight curls surrounding his thick base as she slid her hands around so she cupped the perfect curves of his ass. She squeezed, then slid his boxer briefs down at a glacial pace while her nails lightly scraped his sensitive skin. His ass tightened under her touch.

When only the head of his dick remained trapped underneath the cotton, she stopped, leaned forward, and extended her tongue until the tip barely touched his heated flesh and began a deliberate journey upward. On her reverse trip, she took his boxer briefs the rest of the way down and shoved them to the floor before taking him in her mouth and sliding forward until her nose brushed his tight curls and she could reach out the tip of her tongue and lap at his balls.

Carlos wrapped his hand in her hair and pulled her back. “Mika, what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to help you think. Remember? It’s a right brain, left brain thing.”

She licked his salty pre-come from her lips and wrapped her fingers around his thick girth, sliding her hand up and down his length. He’d closed his eyes and thrown back his head in abandon.

“The problem is…” he panted as he rocked his hips forward and back. “I’m not thinking with my brain at all right now.”

“Oops.” She kissed the head before taking him in her mouth again and watched him through her eyelashes. He was at the mercy of whatever it was that drew them together just as much as she was. They might be at opposite sides of everything else, but in this they were perfectly aligned.

“You look so good with my dick in your mouth,” he groaned. “Fuck, I’m about to come just from watching your pink lips wrapped around it—and I’m not nearly ready for that yet.”