Rarities Unlimited 04 - The Color of Death

of clothes until we’re even.”
    “Even?”
    “All I’m wearing is this robe.”
    His eyelids half lowered. His breath hesitated as he looked at her from pink toenails to sleek calves, inward curving waist, and the shadow between her breasts that had been making him want to howl. And as he looked, he shrugged out of his suit coat and kicked it aside. Her hands were already on his weapon harness, tugging at it as much in frustration as in any real attempt to unfasten it.
    “Here,” he said, guiding her fingers. “And here.”
    Her hands went lower. “What about here?”
    A shudder went through him like lightning. “Wrong gun,” he said thickly.
    “You sure?”
    “Only if you want to get as far as the bed.”
    “If it’s the floor, you’re on the bottom.”
    “Deal.”
    He kicked aside the last of his clothing and reached for her robe. The look on her face stopped him.
    “Something wrong?” he asked.
    “Just enjoying the, um, manscape.”
    “The what?”
    She licked her lips. “Male landscape.”
    Her robe came off with a swift motion of his hand.
    “Female scenery is outstanding,” he said, following his glance with his hands, his mouth, until he was on his knees in front of her. He ran the back of his hands inside her legs from her ankles to her thighs, gently prying them apart. His thumbs caressed the black cloud of female hair, parting it. “If I’m going too fast for you, let me know.”
    She started to ask what he meant, then felt the slick, searching caress of his tongue. She made a sound that could have been a throaty cry of surprise or pleasure or both tangled into one. A few moments later her knees loosened, then buckled as waves of heat slammed through her, shaking her, tormenting her with what was just beyond her reach.
    “Sam, I can’t—stand—anymore.”
    “Come down here and tell me that.”
    She felt his hands on her hips, urging her down. She went eagerly, desperate for more of what he’d given her. When he reached for the slacks he’d thrown aside, she dragged them closer for him.
    “Want to play dress-up?” he asked, pulling a condom out of his pocket. “Or you want me to do it?”
    She reached for the packet, saw her hands were shaking, and laughed. “You better do it.”
    “What if mine are shaking too?”
    “Impossible.”
    “They were earlier.”
    “When?” she scoffed.
    “In the parking lot. I thought I’d lost you.” He opened the package and sheathed himself quickly. Then he caressed her slowly and deeply, teasing her and at the same time testing her readiness to accept him. His thumb circled the sleek knot of flesh that silently begged to be touched. “But I didn’t lose you, did I?”
    She couldn’t answer. Heat was spilling through her in quicksilver pulses that unraveled her breath and her body.
    Smiling rather fiercely, he pulled her down over him and pushed into her, eased by the liquid pulses of her release. The fit was tight, slick, perfect, everything he’d dreamed of when he first thought of opening her legs and pushing in deep. He clenched his teeth against the demanding, overwhelming lure of his own need. He wanted to savor every bit of her, wring the last drop of her ecstasy, feel—
    But it was too late. He couldn’t stop the heat exploding up from the base of his spine, demanding that he drive into her again and again while the world went red and black and wild around him.
    With a final shivering, clenching sigh, Kate slumped over Sam’s chest and lay there trying to breathe around the sweet pressure of him filling her. Aftershocks of completion kept rippling through her, surprising her, breaking her breath into pieces.
    “Sorry I was so quick,” Sam said, running his fingertips down her spine. “I’ve been dating myself too long. I’ll do better next time.”
    “Quick. Jesus. You destroyed me.” She let out another breaking breath and kissed his neck, licked it, liked the taste, licked it again. “I’ve been dating myself too. You feel good inside me, Sam. So damn good. Perfect.”
    “Not the wrong caliber after all, huh?”
    “Are you laughing at me?” she asked lazily.
    “Would I do that?”
    “Yeah.” She bit him. “But I forgive you.”
    “Does that mean you’ll let me do it again?”
    “Laugh at me?”
    “Eventually.”
    She felt him moving slightly beneath her, opened her eyes, and saw his hand patting around, trying to find his slacks without disturbing her. She leaned to the side to help him get