In Death 15 - Purity in Death

along her spine.
    The thrill rushed after them. She knew what he was doing - washing away the shadows of the picture they'd just painted. Bringing up the strong, clear colors of their own.
    "Cut that out." She angled her head so his lips could trail up. "In a minute."
    "That's pushing even my speed and agility, but we'll start with a minute." He caught her earlobe between his teeth. "And see how it goes."
    Her brain was starting to fog up, her body starting to rev. "God, you're good at this."
    "Is that going into my official file as a . . ." His mouth found hers, sank in. ". . . expert consultant, civilian?"
    "I'll keep it in my personal records." Her breath caught. How the hell had he gotten her shirt off so fast? "This is . . . we can't do this on a command console."
    "I think we could." He'd already unhooked her trousers. "But it does lack a little something. Hitch on," he said, and gave her hips a boost until her legs were wrapped around his waist.
    "Minute's gotta be up," she whispered, but couldn't resist nibbling at his throat.
    "Let's see if we can make time stop."
    He opened a wall panel. A bed slid out. When he tumbled her to the mattress, she kept her legs and arms hooked around him and used the momentum to roll on top of him.
    "It's going to be fast," she warned him.
    "I can live with that."
    She tore open his shirt, ran her hands in one hard sweep over his chest, then lowered to scrape her teeth over flesh.
    The taste of him was already a part of her, lived inside her. Still she always wanted more. And took more, crushing her mouth to his until the heat drenched her.
    She could feel it pump from him, from her as mouths and hands turned greedy. It fueled her, pulsing through her system like a slap of adrenaline.
    When he flipped her to drag at her trousers, she dragged at his. Her heart hammered under his restless mouth. His muscles tensed under her impatient hands.
    They tugged, pulled, yanked and ripped so that she was naked and laughing when she rolled again to straddle him. Laughter became a purr of pleasure as she took him inside her.
    She clenched around him and drove him mad with need. Rearing up, he clamped his mouth on her breast, sucking her in until it felt as though he could feed on her heartbeat. The flavor, the heat, the scent of mate. She arched, letting him fill her.
    Then began to move.
    She drove him back, braced her hands on either side of his head and used her hips to set a furious pace.
    The thrill, the dark and dangerous edge of it, sliced through him. Her face was alive, so alive with purpose and pleasure. And she rode him as if their lives depended on it.
    The air thickened, his vision dimmed. She was a blur of white and gold.
    "You go over." Her voice was raw. "You let go."
    His body plunged to hers. He thought it was like being swallowed alive. He heard her cry out as she dived after him.
    ***
    He drew her down, drew her in while they drifted back.
    "Sex is funny," she murmured.
    "I'm still laughing."
    She snorted and turned her face into the side of his neck for a moment. "Yeah, that was a really good joke, but I meant sometimes it knocks you flat so you feel like you could sleep for a month. Other times it pumps you up so you feel like you could run a marathon. I wonder why that is?"
    "I couldn't say, but I have a feeling this one falls into the latter category."
    "Yeah, I'm stoked." She shifted, planted a quick, hard kiss on his mouth. "Thanks."
    "Oh, whatever I can do to help."
    "Well, you can get your great-looking ass up so I can see the rest of the data." She sucked in a cheerful breath, then rolled away. "I want coffee."
    "It's going to be a long night. Why don't we get some of that cake to go with it?"
    She grabbed her shirt. "Good thinking."
    ***
    Between the sex and caffeine, her energy level stayed high until after three a.m. She had six more names on her list, and had no doubt there were more. The game plan was already formed in her head.
    She'd start in the morning with the Dukes.
    When she reached for yet another cup of coffee, Roarke simply pushed it out of her reach. "You're cut off, Lieutenant, and going off duty."
    "I've got another hour in me."
    "You don't, no. You've gone pale, which is a sure sign you've hit the wall. You need some sleep or you won't be sharp tomorrow. You'll have to be if you're going to do what I assume you're going to do and push for interviews with these families. Will you take Peabody?"
    He asked more to distract her than a need to