Hot Rocks

dinner, I thought—in the far reaches of my mind I didn’t quite acknowledge—that I’d have this rash, wild, impulsive affair with you.”
    “I think you did.” He got busy undoing her blouse.
    “Now I’m going to marry you.” Delighted, she pulled his shirt over his head and threw it aside. “Max, I should tell you, I’d’ve slept with you if Henry didn’t like you, but I wouldn’t be marrying you if he objected.”
    He lowered his mouth to her breast, bit gently. “Fair’s fair.”
    She arched, absorbed, then riding on the thrill rolled over to reverse positions. “I’d just sneak around behind his back and have sex with you. I’d feel bad about it, but I’d do it anyway.”
    “You’re such a slut.”
    She threw back her head and hooted with laughter. “Oh God! I feel wonderful.”
    His hands ran up her sides, then in and over curves. “You’re telling me.”
    “Max.” The sweetness seeped into her, had her brushing her hands through his hair, then cupping his face. “I love you, Max. I’ll be such a good wife.”
    She was everything he wanted and hadn’t known he was looking for. The whole of her, all those strange and lovely layers that formed her fit the whole of him as no one ever had, or ever would.
    He drew her down to him, stroking her hair, her back, as love swarmed inside him. And when she sighed, the long, contented sound of it was like music.
    Soft, so soft, her skin, her lips, so that the moment took on a dreamy hue that made it easy to be tender. He could cherish her here, and wondered if anyone ever had.
    Instead of seeing her as competent or clever, as practical and smart, had anyone ever shown her she was precious?
    He murmured to her, foolish things, romantic things as he eased her over to undress her. His hands skimmed over her as if she were more fragile than glass, more splendid than diamonds.
    Her breath caught, another quiet little sigh as she let him take her over, as she sailed over smooth, gentle waves of pleasure. Under his hands she was pliant, willing to lay herself open for whatever he gave, or took.
    Long, lush kisses that shimmered through the blood and sent pulses skipping. Slow, indolent caresses that sent warm thrills over the skin. She floated on the lazy river of sensation.
    As that river rose, she felt the sleepy passion wake to roll through her in an endless swell. She arched to him, once again wrapping herself around him so they sat, locked together in the middle of the bed.
    Mouths met more urgently, with breath quickening as the air went misty, as heart kicked against heart. Need welled inside her, throbbing like a wound, spreading like a fever.
    She murmured his name, over and over, as she pushed him back, as she straddled him and cupped his hands to her breasts.
    She took him inside her, captured him in all that velvet heat. Watching him through the shadows, her hair gleaming through them, her eyes impossibly blue.
    Angling back, she offered him the lovely white line of her. He could feel the canter of her heart, the shivers along her skin, the taunt brace of it as she set to ride him.
    Then she leaned forward, her hair raining down to curtain her face, and his. She anchored her hands on his shoulders, dug her fingers in. And drove him mad.
    Her hips charged like lightning, shooting sparks of shock through his blood. The pleasure stormed through him now, whipped by her energy. She threw her head back, crying out when she clamped around him, convulsed around him.
    Clinging to the edge, he reared up, banded her in his arms and, with his lips hot on her throat, let her drag him over with her.
     
     
     
    He had to work. It wasn’t the easiest transition with his body sated with sex and his mind veering constantly back to Laine. But the work was vital. Not just for his client, or for himself, but for Laine.
    The sooner this portion of the diamonds was back where it belonged, the better for all concerned.
    But that was hardly the end of it, or of her problems.
    He didn’t expect Crew would come back searching for them in the house, but neither did he expect the man to just cut his losses and walk away. He’d killed for those stones, and he wanted all of them.
    He’d planned to have all of them from the beginning, Max concluded while he shuffled his notes into another pattern to wait for some new piece to fall into place.
    No reason that made sense to have lured Myers out for a private meeting unless he’d planned to eliminate him and