Her Detective's Secret Intent

More to the point, “I haven’t felt even a hint of wanting someone.” She’d never been fully turned on in her life, until him.

Having endured beatings that escalated over time from a man she’d loved and trusted sometimes did that to a girl. Squelched her ability to feel attractive to men. To be turned on by them. Or so she’d been told in counseling. She’d only been eleven the first time he’d hit her. He’d apologized almost immediately and then gently explained how it had been her fault for clinging to him and crying, for reaching for him over and over, after her mother’s funeral. With it being her fault, she’d been loath to mention her bad, clingy, needy behavior to anyone else.

He’d been smart, too. Always hitting her where it wouldn’t show.

“And you weren’t molested?” His gaze was intent.

“No.” From what she’d learned since she’d reinvented herself, she was lucky on that score. She looked him straight in the eye as she answered him.

After a long moment of studying her, he asked, “So, why me?”

His question was fair.

“I have absolutely no idea.” It was the truth. “I just know that if you don’t kiss me, I’m going to cry myself to sleep tonight.” Being honest was one thing; too much information was another. It felt as if once she’d opened her well of secrets, anything that could slip out by chance did so.

“Well, we can’t have that...” His voice had dropped to almost a whisper, a guttural one, as he moved slowly forward, sliding his arm behind her, and pulled her closer to him. She ended up with her breasts against his chest. The contact sent immediate electric shards of warmth down to her crotch.

His lips touched hers and all thought fled. There was only sensation. Incredible, delicious, delightful sensation. She opened her mouth at his probing, eager for whatever he had to give her. To show her.

Eager to learn. To do.

To know what being with him would be like.

He moved lower, kissing her jaw, her neck. He smelled like some kind of musky man something and as his day’s growth of stubble rubbed against her sensitive skin, she shivered with a need for more.

Her hands moved over him, exploring the muscles in his chest, his arms. Exploring his back. Noticing the differences between his body and hers. Getting turned on by those differences.

And from knowing those were Tad’s hands on her. That it was him she was touching.

“Are you okay?” he asked, drawing her attention to the fact that she’d stopped moving.

“Better than okay,” she told him. She could stare into his brown eyes all night. She ran her fingers through his hair. “I just like having the privilege of touching you.”

Maybe she was odd. And no good at love talk. But she had to be herself. Her deep-down true self. The one without a name who lived both lives within her.

“I hereby grant you that privilege anytime you want it,” he said, groaning as he drew her even closer, lying down on the couch with her mostly on top of him.

“We could go to my bedroom,” she offered, playing with a button on his shirt, wanting to unfasten it. To feel his skin against her fingers.

His hands were still touching her back but not holding on.

“I know,” she added, “it’s complicated. No strings attached, Tad. Just come to bed with me. Please?”

She’d probably die remembering these moments in the morning, but she was a woman who’d awakened from a hellacious nightmare and had this opportunity. He’d be gone soon, back to his own life.

She would come to her senses; she already knew she couldn’t be part of a long-term, committed relationship because she couldn’t lie to her partner, even by omission.

“Things aren’t always what they seem,” he told her.

She might have laughed at the irony of that statement, but was too far gone, desperate to get naked next to him while she could. Moving her pelvis against his rigid penis, she said, “It seems like you want this as much as I do.”

It didn’t take a lot of experience to know some things.

He kissed her. Long and deep. Then looked her in the eye again. “I’ve ne

ver wanted a woman more than I want you right now.”

That was all she needed to know. Standing, she held out a hand to him. He took it. Stood up and then, when she would’ve walked down the hall with him, he scooped her up and carried her.