In Death 32 - Treachery in Death

grateful I did.”
    She closed her eyes, drew him in. Like breath. “But I didn’t know how much there was, what there could be. What I could be, before you.
    “Before you, there was no one I’d want to walk with. No one I’d want to sit by a little pond with. No one,” she said again, easing back to look at his face, “before you.”
    He took her lips softly, letting them both sink into the kiss, into the moment. Into the tenderness.
    Sweet, like the peach that rolled out of her hand as they lowered to the ground—and quiet, like the air that whispered around them with the scents of ripened peaches, summer flowers, green, green grass.
    She rested a hand on his cheek, tracing down to the strong line of his jaw. His face, she thought, so precious to her. Every look, every glance, every smile, every frown. The first time she’d seen it something had shifted in her. And everything she’d closed off, maybe to survive to that point, had begun to struggle free.
    Love shimmered through her, and joy followed.
    She gave, offering him her heart, her body, moving with him as elegantly as in a waltz. Not a warrior tonight, he thought, but only a woman. One with a flower in her hair, and the heart she offered in her eyes.
    And the woman moved him, unbearably.
    “ A grha .” His lips roamed her face while the words he murmured came through his own heart, through his blood, in Irish. Foolish words, tender words she wouldn’t understand, but would only feel.
    “Yes,” she said, when their lips met again. “Yes. And you’re mine.”
    She touched him, sliding his jacket aside, loosening his tie. And smiled. “Always so many clothes.”
    He slid her jacket off as well, released her weapon harness. “Always armed.”
    “Disarm me.” In a gesture of surrender she raised her arms over her head.
    He watched her as he shoved her weapon aside, as he drew her shirt, her tank over her head and bared her to the dapple of evening sun.
    Watched as he skimmed his hands over her skin, as he rounded them over firm breasts. She sighed out her pleasure as her eyes went heavy. Then he lowered his head, sampled her, savored her. Stirred her toward moans as he traced his tongue down her torso.
    She felt those nimble fingers unhook her belt, and her breath quickened at their touch, at the anticipation of more. He stripped her, inch by inch, using those nimble fingers, his lips, his tongue to saturate her in sensation—slow, steady waves that rolled over her, rolled through her until she was drenched.
    Dazzled, dazed, she reached for him, found his lips again with hers. Struggling to take her time, as he had, she touched, and bared. She sampled and savored.
    Undid him, he thought. She undid him. She always could. She could make him feel weak as water, strong as a god all at once, and more a man than he’d ever hoped to be. With her, it was more than the thrill of flesh against flesh, more than the heat and beat in the blood.
    Love was a gift shared.
    When he eased into her, the gift was sweet, and tender. Again, her hand rested on his cheek. Again he watched her heart fill her eyes. Watched until his own flew into them.
    She lay quiet for a time, stroking his hair, content to stay pinned under his weight.
    “It was a really nice walk,” she said at last.
    “Good, healthy exercise, walking.”
    She laughed. “I feel pretty healthy right now. Hungry, too.”
    “I’m with you there.” He eased up, smiled down at her. “You look healthy, my darling Eve, lying naked in the sunlight.”
    “If you’d have suggested a couple hours ago I’d be lying naked in the sunlight I’d’ve called bullshit. But I don’t feel pissed or pissy anymore, so I guess it was healthy.”
    She sat up, reached for her tank, then her eyes popped as she tapped a hand on the wire camouflaged between her breasts. “I forgot about the wire.”
    “Well, one hopes it’s off or we’ve given Feeney and/or McNab some unscheduled entertainment.”
    “It’s off—I cued it in the pub. But, Jesus, I’m not supposed to forget it’s there.”
    “You were busy walking,” he said when she dragged the tank over her head.
    “It’s a damn good thing I didn’t call out for cinnamon donuts while you were busy walking with me.”
    After they’d dressed he took her hand as he had before, gave her arm a little swing with his. “I expect you fancy pizza for dinner.”
    “It’d be easy. I’ve got some digging to do, and I need to check Peabody’s progress on