In Death 10 - Witness in Death

wanted to give something back."
    She was beautiful. Hurt and angry, passionate and pissed, she was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. "You steal my breath," he murmured.
    "I've got this whole love of a lifetime thing in my head. Murder, betrayal, rage."
    "I beg your pardon?"
    "Never mind." She paused, took a deep breath. "The last couple of days people have said things that keep sticking in my brain. Would you jump in front of a maxibus for me?"
    "Absolutely. They don't go very fast."
    She laughed, relieving him considerably. "That's what I said. Oh hell, I messed this up. I knew I would."
    "No, I took care of that." He moved to her, took her hand. "Do you love me enough to give me another chance at this?"
    "Maybe."
    "Darling Eve." He lifted her hand to his lips. "What you've done here means a great deal to me. You, you mean everything to me."
    "See how you do that. Slick as spit."
    He trailed his fingers over the curve of her shoulder. "I like the dress."
    It was a good thing, she thought, he hadn't seen her frozen panic when she'd opened her closet. "I thought it would work."
    "It does. Very well." He picked up her glass, then his own. "Let's try this again. Thank you."
    "Yeah, well, I'd say it was nothing, but that would be a big, fat lie. Just tell me this one thing. Why do you have a million plates?"
    "I'm sure that's an exaggeration."
    "Not by much."
    "Well, you never know who might be coming to dinner, do you?"
    "Including the entire population of New Zealand." She sipped champagne. "Now, I'm behind schedule."
    "Have we a schedule?"
    "Yeah. You know, drinks, dinner, conversation. Blah blah. It all ends up with me getting you drunk and seducing you."
    "I like the end goal. Since I came close to spoiling things, the least I can do now is cooperate." He started to pick up the bottle, but she laid a hand on his arm.
    "Dance with me." She slid her hands up his chest, linked them behind his neck. "Close. And slow."
    His arms came around her. His body swayed with hers. And his blood leapt with love, with lust, as her mouth brushed silkily over his.
    "I love the taste of you." Her voice was husky now, soft. "It always makes me want more."
    "Have more."
    But when he attempted to deepen the kiss, she turned her head, skimmed those heated lips along his jaw. "Slow," she said again. "The way I'm going to make love with you." She nibbled her way to his ear. "So that it's almost torture."
    She threaded her fingers through his hair, all that gorgeous black, fisted them, drew his head back until their eyes met. His were deep and blue and already hot.
    "I want you to say my name when I take you." She teased his mouth with hers again, retreated, felt his body tighten like a bow against hers. "Say it so that I know nothing exists for you but me at that moment. Nothing exists for me but you. You're all there is."
    Her mouth took his now, a frantic mating of lips, teeth, tongues. She felt his moan start low, start deep, then merge with her own. She let herself tremble, let herself ache, then pulled back, pulled away a breath before surrender.
    "Eve."
    She heard the strain in his voice, enjoyed it as she picked up their glasses again. "Thirsty?"
    "No." He started to reach for her, but she shifted away, thrust out his glass. "I am. Have a drink. I want to go to your head."
    "You do. Let me have you."
    "I will. After I've had you." She picked up a small remote, pressed a series of buttons. On the side wall, panels opened. The bed that had been tucked behind them was heaped with pillows. "That's where I want you. Eventually."
    She took a long sip of champagne, watching him over the rim. "You're not drinking."
    "You're killing me."
    Delighted, she laughed, and the sound was like smoke. "It's going to get worse."
    Now he did drink, then set his glass aside. "Praise God."
    She walked back to him, slipped his jacket from his shoulders. "I love your body," she murmured, slowly working open the buttons of his shirt. "I'm going to spend a lot of time enjoying it tonight."
    It was a powerful rush, she thought, to make a strong man quiver. She felt that dance of muscles as she traced a fingertip down his chest to the hook of his trousers.
    Instead of releasing them, she smiled. "You'd better sit down."
    There was a throbbing in his blood, primal, edging toward violent. It took a great deal of effort not to yield to it, to drag her to the floor and answer that urgent beat.
    "No, not here," she said, and lifting his hand, nipped lightly