If You Know Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense

stroking one hand up her thigh.
    She parted her legs, rocked against him. “Bed,” she panted. “Damn it, take me to bed.”
    “What’s your hurry?” He licked her navel, bit her lightly. The mound of her sex was covered with a neatly trimmed patch of tight, black curls and he could already see the moisture gleaming there. Inching lower, he pressed another kiss just there, brushed the tips of his fingers across the curls. The heat of her … he hissed out a breath as he felt the heat, the moisture.
    “My hurry?”
    He looked at her from behind his lashes and smiled. “Yeah … what’s your hurry? I want to touch you … taste you.”
    “And I’m dying,” she groaned. “Spent five minutes in the shower trying to get myself off after last night and I’m still dying …”
    The image of that blasted through his mind. Law’s eyes just about crossed as he found himself picturingher, that long, sexy body … standing under the spray of water, her fingers moving in and out. Oh, hell …
    His brain almost exploded on him. Swearing, he stood up and slanted his mouth over hers. Cupping the heat of her sex in his hand, he ground the heel of his palm lightly against her and pushed one finger inside her. As she closed around him, greedy, slick and tight, he shuddered.
    She cried out against his mouth.
    Desperate, dying, he pulled his hand away and wrapped his arm around her waist, hauling her against him. Couldn’t let her go—he had the weirdest damn feeling that if he stopped touching her, even for a second, he’d wake up and realize this was a dream. Something. Couldn’t stop touching, couldn’t stop …
    Those long, muscled legs wrapped around his hips as he boosted her up and turned, taking the three strides it took to get to the bed. He half-staggered, half-fell onto it, turning so that he went down first, with Nia sprawled atop him. Hot, sleek, and perfect. Her legs parted, settled on either side of his hips and she rocked against him. Both of them groaned. He could feel her, through the heavy, too-tight denim of his jeans. She sat up, reaching for his belt buckle, her fingers struggling to free him.
    “You’re wearing too many clothes,” she said.
    “Yeah.” He rested a hand on her thigh, stroked it up to her hip. “You’re not … fuck, you’re gorgeous.”
    A slow smile curled her lips. “Thank you.”
    He might have said something else, but then she managed to get the zipper undone and she had her hand inside his jeans, shoving his boxers down quick as a wish and his ability to speak abruptly died. All he could manage was a ragged grunt as her fingers closed around him, pumped up and down once … oh, shit.
    “… a condom?”
    Cracking one eye open, Law glanced up at her. What was she saying? Didn’t she know he couldn’t think, not when she was touching him? What was she talking about?
Why
was she talking?
    “You got a condom?”
    Oh. Shit.
    Law groaned. “No.”
    Her jaw dropped. “You …” She closed her eyes. Then opened them, that golden gaze flashing. “You don’t have a rubber?”
    “No. I don’t generally carry them around unless I’m planning on getting laid and that wasn’t why I came.” She was still touching him—shit. Grimacing, he reached down, closed his fingers around her wrist. She had to stop, or he was going to do something he hadn’t done since high school. Tugging her hand away, he blew out a breath, tried to convince his burning, raging body that it needed to cool down—now.
    “You …” she licked her lips, still sitting astride his thighs, a confused look on her face.
    This wasn’t making sense. Nia tried to get it to make sense and it wasn’t happening. He’d come here, after last night—brought her coffee—and he hadn’t brought a damn rubber.
    Okay. It still wasn’t making sense. Not a lick of sense. None. Taking a deep breath, she wet her lips with her tongue and tried again. “You seriously don’t have anything?”
    He eased her off, his hands—calloused in all the right places, just enough to feel good as he touched her—stroking up over her sensitized flesh and sending signals to her overheated brain. “No, Nia. I don’t.” He winced as he sat up, adjusting his jeans.
    She swore, her body tight, hot, aching so bad. Drugstore—one of them could go to the fucking drugstore—
    A phone rang.
    Law grimaced. He gave her an apologetic look and stood, pulling it out of his back pocket. He cleared his throat before