Eleven
It was absurd, of course.
She’d never...
But she was going to.
Maybe Megan was right—they weren’t destined to have normal relationships. And maybe in life something just seemed extreme, something that was what she wanted, and maybe even what she really needed.
But along with the way she had been steadily feeling her attraction to him grow on a physical level, she had learned to love the light in his eyes when he smiled, and the way he could make her laugh, and even...
The way he had come right to the point, right now, and...
She caught his hand and drew him into the house, closing the door, wincing as Red scurried through.
She’d almost forgotten the dog.
But Red trotted in, leapt on the sofa, and curled up with Jensen. And as she watched, Mark caught her gently, swung her around, and pressed her against the door, catching her hands above her head.
She’d asked him in to sleep with her.
They’d barely shared civil words, and certainly not a kiss.
But now they did.
She felt the pressure of his body against her, a searing heat in his mouth and form that seemed to make the world melt away. They stayed there, lingering there, just tasting the hunger in one another, feeling the intimate connection of being locked together.
Then, at last, he moved back slightly, smiling. “Well, at least we went to that supper club.”
“There you go. Almost a date. Actually, didn’t the federal government buy me dinner?”
“You mean I didn’t even buy you dinner?”
“Well...”
“You didn’t even buy me dinner,” he reminded her. “And yet...”
She laughed softly. “I want your body without springing for dinner? I know I have some peanut butter in the kitchen!”
“And what are you suggesting with that?” he asked warily.
He moved agilely to sweep her off her feet and into his arms.
She smiled, curving her arms around his neck.
“Well, at least you didn’t drop me!” she said.
“Hey, have some faith!” he said, but then he frowned slightly. “I don’t know where to go from here.”
“Really? Usually, it has to do with taking one’s clothing off, all at once, bit by bit...”
He started to laugh. “I mean, I don’t know your place. Where am I carrying you?”
“Am I getting heavy already?”
“Define ‘heavy.’ Hmm, from the moment I met you...”
“Hey! I’ve been a good agent.”
“Yes, you have. And I...”
“Are you trying to apologize?” she asked him.
“I think I have apologized. No, you’re not heavy—but which way am I going?”
She laughed softly and nodded her head toward the sofa where Jensen and Red were curled together.
“The children seem to have the living room. We could go up to my bedroom. But please don’t drop me on the stairs.”
“I should drop you just for being a wiseass.”
“Then I’d make you kiss every tiny little injury!”
“Sounds good. Maybe I should drop you for that reason.”
She laughed, amazed they could be so close, so easy, so free. She pointed around the entry to the stairs, and he easily moved in that direction. Red let out a woof as they reached the bottom.
Mark paused.
“Feels like we have chaperones,” he said. “Red, stay!”
Red stayed.
Red and Jensen both watched them head up the stairs. Neither animal moved.
Colleen indicated the doorway to her room, and they went in. He went to set her on the bed, tripped on one of her slippers, and laughed as he crashed down with her.
She let out a feigned cry of protest that turned into a laugh as he rose above her and straddled over her, reminding her, “Now, there’s this thing with clothing, so you say.”
She smiled, half rose against him, and tugged off her jacket. She had to wriggle beneath him to get to her holster and gun.
He didn’t help any, taking off his jacket and reaching to his back for his own leather holster and gun, then lying over her to set them on the bedside table, just as she had done.
She sighed with mock impatience. “Let me help you with your shirt...”