If You Know Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense

her. It took two tries to tear the damn thing off the strip, another two tries before he managed to get it open.
    Her eyes, golden and blistering hot, stared up at him.
    Her hips were rocking—frenzied, small movements, like she still was trying to feel his fingers inside her.
    Not enough—
he
needed to be inside her. All of him.
    His fingers didn’t want to work and the damn rubber didn’t want to cooperate and by the time he had it rolled down over his aching flesh, the fog in Nia’s eyes had cleared. She had one elbow behind her like she was about to sit up.
    He came over her, catching her face in his hands. She opened for him and he shuddered as her tongue came out, stroked over his, sucking it into her mouth. Her hands raced down his back, caught his hips, tugged him close.
    That was all the invitation he needed.
    Hardly able to breathe for want of her, he drove inside, his groan mingling with her cry.
    She was tight, clenching down around him, squeezing him, milking him, drawing him deeper and deeper … “Oh, hell, yeah,” he muttered against her lips. “You feel so damn good.”
    Nia smiled against his lips. “You feel pretty damn good yourself.” Bringing one leg up, she arched her hips and groaned.
    He echoed the sound as she clenched tighter around him, the silken, snug walls of her pussy gripping him through the thin shield of latex. Bracing his weight on his elbows, he rocked against her, slow … easy—even though every last thing inside him screamed,
Harder … faster …
    Months of dreaming of this, damn it, it was going to last longer than a hundred and twenty seconds.
    Then Nia hooked her leg over his hip and slid a palm to grip down his back, her hand on his ass, her nails biting into his skin. She arched up, meeting each thrust, moving faster, demanding, driving him—
    Tearing his mouth away, he snarled, “Fuck.”
    He shoved upright—distance, needed distance, needed to get away from her mouth, needed to slow down and think … But now, his position drove him even deeper and he stared down at her as she whimpered, her eyes wide, almost glassy. A broken plea on her lips.
    Hell …
    Shifting his weight, he reached between them, circled his thumb over her clit, teeth clenched as she tightened around him—when she came, he bit down on the inside of his cheek and hoped the pain might clear his head, because damn it, he was dying.
    Her breathing ragged, her body went lax under his. “We’re not done,” he rasped, fisting a hand in her dark, short hair. Law greedily took her mouth as he started to ride her again—deep, hard. So damned hungry, so damned hungry …
    If she’d had the breath, she might have told him to give her a minute.
    But even if she
had
had the breath? He would have stolen it away again.
    Even as she was drifting back down, Law had his mouth on hers, one of those deep, demanding kisses thatdrove every sane, logical thought from her brain. And he was moving, his body hard and hungry and hot, his cock thrusting deep. If that wasn’t enough to drive her to insanity, he had his hand between them, his thumb stroking over her clit, toying with it, stroking in fast, hard circles and every damn time she thought she’d get her breath, he stole it back away.
    Dying.
    Nia was dying—couldn’t live this long without breathing, take this kind of pleasure and still survive.
    She knew it.
    Then his mouth was gone, stroking along her cheek, down her neck. His teeth raked along her skin and she shuddered, shivered. “Hell, Nia,” he muttered. “What are you doing to me? What the hell …”
    He bit her neck, licked the small hurt, kissed it, repeating that over and over as he moved down her neck, along her collarbone down to her breast. By the time he reached her nipple, she was desperate, so desperate to have him kissing her there.
    But he didn’t.
    Instead he reversed his path, kissing back up the way he came, and starting that same trail down her left side.
    She groaned as his chin nudged her nipple this time and she fisted a hand in his hair. “Stop teasing,” she muttered.
    “You don’t like teasing?” he whispered, his breath blowing a warm puff of air along her skin.
    “Law …”
    He chuckled … then caught her breast in his hand, plumped it, stroking his thumb over the nipple.
    That was … nice—but not enough.
    Tugging him closer, she whimpered and arched up, pressed tight—damn it, she was dying, her nipples burning hot points and if he