In Death 09 - Loyalty in Death

health center and sedated for the night.
    Eve had stationed a guard at her door.
    Nadine's story hit the air at midnight and carried exactly the brisk tone of a routine if tragic accident that Eve had wanted.
    The crime scene evidence was in and would be fully analyzed the next morning. The body was still somewhere in the depths of the East River, and there was simply no more to be done.
    So at two a.m. she stripped off her clothes and prepared to fall into her own bed.
    "Eve?" Roarke noted her weapon and harness were now out of reach. When she turned her head toward him, he caught her chin and shoved a pain blocker into her mouth. Before she could spit it at him, he caught her close, clever hands roaming down to squeeze her naked ass, and crushed his mouth to hers.
    She choked, swallowed in self-defense, and felt his tongue dance lightly over hers. "That was low." She shoved away, coughed a little. "That was despicable."
    "That worked." He caressed her cheek and gave her an affectionate shove into bed. "You'll feel better for it in the morning."
    "In the morning, after coffee, I'm going to smack you around."
    He slid into bed beside her, cuddled her against him. "Mmm. I can't wait. Go to sleep."
    "You won't think it's so funny when your head's bouncing off the floor." But she rolled hers onto his shoulder and dropped away.
    Four hours later, she awoke in exactly the same position. Exhaustion had gobbled her up, and she'd slept like a stone. She blinked, saw Roarke's eyes were already open and on hers. "Time?" she croaked it out.
    "Just past six. Take a few minutes more."
    "No, I can get started from here." She climbed over him, then stumbled groggily into the bathroom. In the shower, she rubbed sleep out of her eyes, and realized -- with some resentment -- her headache was gone.
    "Jets on full, a hundred and one degrees."
    Water streamed out from half a dozen jets, billowing steam. She let out one low, appreciative moan, then hair dripping, narrowed her eyes as Roarke stepped in behind her.
    "Lower the temp and suffer."
    "I thought I'd boil with you this morning." He handed her a cup of coffee, amused by the suspicious look in her eyes, pleased that they showed no shadow of pain. "I'll be working at home myself for a few hours today."
    He sipped his own coffee, then set the mug on a high shelf above the pumping jets. "I'd like you to keep me apprised of progress, in both the helpings you currently have on your plate."
    "I'll tell you what I can, when I can."
    "Good enough." He filled his hands with soap and began to slide them over her.
    "I can manage this myself." She stepped back because the blood was already sizzling under her skin. "I don't have time for water games this morning."
    He only moved in, gliding his hands up over her belly, torso, breasts, which made her shiver. "I said -- " His mouth lowered to her shoulder, teeth nipping. "Cut it out."
    "I love it when you're wet..." He took the mug out of her hand before she could drop it, set it next to his own. "And slippery." Nudged her against the wall running with water, dripping with steam. "And reluctant. Go up." He murmured against her ear as his fingers dipped into her, slipping in, slipping out in a smooth, lazy rhythm.
    Her head fell back, her body took over. "Damn it." It came out in a moan as pleasure, dark and drugged, spread from her center to the tips of her fingers.
    "Go over." He slicked his tongue down the side of her throat and gave her no choice.
    Her hands were splayed against the wet tile, her body pulsing. Water rained over them, hot and needle sharp, as he felt the orgasm tear through her.
    A kind of purging, he thought.
    She was still gasping when he spun her around and closed his mouth greedily over her breast.
    She was helpless against what he brought to her. Each time, every time, helpless, staggered. And grateful. She dived her fingers into his hair, twisting, tangling them in that thick wet silk while those good, strong tugs of desire in her belly followed the restless hunger of his mouth on her.
    His hands, slick, skilled, strong, raced over her, took her to the edge and over. Where he wanted her, where he needed her -- shuddering, moaning his name, swamped in her own pleasure.
    The nails biting viciously into his back thrilled him, the frenzied race of her heart against his incited him. More. All. Now, was all he could think as they savaged each other's mouths.
    "I want you." His breath was heaving as he gripped her hips. "Always.