Concealed in Death (In Death 38) - Page 99

And in the thrill of the long, lazy kiss, wrapped her arms, her legs around him, holding him tight and close.

Because she was lucky, and wouldn’t forget it. She had lived through it, all that had come before. And she was in the big warm bed with the frostiest guy on or off planet. The man who loved her, wanted her, tolerated her, and understood her.

Whatever the day brought when it dawned, she had this, she had him, to begin it.

“I love you.” She tightened around him. “I really mean it.”

“I love you.” She felt his lips curve against her throat. “I really mean it.”

“Show me.”

She arched toward him. He slid into her.

On the slow rise, the slow fall, he watched her face in the quiet light. Happy, he thought, there in her eyes, in the easy, fluid move of her body, in the quickening beat of her heart.

Whatever had troubled her in dreams she’d set aside, for this, for him. For them.

He touched his lips to her cheek, then the other, her brow, then her lips. To show her.

Dawn crept closer as they gave pleasure and took it. She sighed, a simple sound of bliss, stroked her hands down his back, up again until her fingers tangled in his hair.

All as sweet and lovely as a walk

in a summer garden.

As the heat built, as the need sharpened, he watched her still, saw that pleasure peak in the deepening of her eyes even as he felt her body arch up to reach it, to take it.

Her heart drumming now against the thud of his own, her sigh sliding into a long, throaty moan. And her eyes, her eyes going dark and blind for that moment, that sumptuous moment when she lost herself, surrendered herself to what they made.

Reaching, taking, he fell into her eyes, fell into her.

She lay under him, limp, dazzled. If she could wish a single thing for a single day, it would be to stay just as they were, all warm, all tangled, all content. She turned her face, nuzzled it against his hair to cover herself with the scent.

She could take that with her, whatever else the day handed her.

When she stirred, he pressed his lips to the side of her throat, then levered up to look down at her again. “Can you sleep now?”

“I think I’m awake. Just as well.”

Rolling over, he drew her to his side.

“Don’t you have Pluto on tap?”

“In a bit.”

He thought he could lull her back to sleep, she realized, but her mind was already starting to churn.

“I don’t blame the kid for it.”

“Of course not.”

“Figuring she might be the key isn’t the same as thinking it’s her fault.”

“Got under your skin, did she?”

“I think I’m looking at her as a part of me I was still testing out at that age. Not the bjs and booze.”

“Happy to hear that.”

Tags: J.D. Robb In Death Mystery
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