Her words brought a sense of pride to his heart and he experienced love for her so strong it pushed at the back of his eyelids.
He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard.
Without warning, she pulled away from him.
“Whaaa?” He stared at her dumbstruck and pained. She wasn’t turning back now. No.
She slid down the length of his body, gliding her hands nimbly over his skin. She undulated with catlike grace, her motions supple. Her hot probing tongue licking down his belly.
“No, if you go down there, I won’t last a minute.”
“What’s your recovery time?” She winked and he came undone. Groaning, he shoved his hand through his hair and reminded himself to breathe.
She kissed his body with promises of unimaginable ecstasy. She rolled her tongue over his navel, teasing and cajoling.
Her breasts dangled provocatively above his penis. His gazed fixed on her jiggling, rosy-pink nipples. His penis stiffened, straining as if trying to reach up and touch those gorgeous nubs. Reaching down, she lightly tangled her fingertips in his hair.
“Please, I want to be inside you.”
“All in good time.”
“You’re loving this. Torturing me.”
“Uh-huh.” She winked.
“Tease.”
When she cupped his balls, he hissed in a scalded breath and when her hand traveled up to stroke his shaft he had to close his eyes and fight to keep from coming in her palm.
“You’re so big and thick,” she said, with awe in her voice. She made him feel like a million bucks.
Then she blew a stream of hot breath on the throbbing head. Involuntarily, he lifted his hips off the mattress, straining for her.
“Enough,” he said.
He couldn’t take the teasing one more minute. Grabbing her around the waist, he rolled her over, tumbling them both to the edge of the mattress. He dropped his feet to the floor, pulled her hips close to him.
“Wrap your legs around my waist,” he growled.
She obeyed.
He liked this position. It was his turn to tease.
He caressed her tender, feminine flesh, inhaled her musky womanly scent and breathed in pure pride. She was with him!
She quivered and pulsed against his hand and he knew he could make her come with his fingers, but he wanted to see if he could take it higher. If he could be the one to give her an orgasm during intercourse.
Then he dropped to his knees and kissed her sweet inner lips, drinking up her warm, womanly flavor. No one on earth tasted like her and the essence that was Maddie branded into his brain. He would never forget this moment, this taste, this woman.
On and on they played the game, on and on. Touching and stroking, licking and nibbling, bringing each other to the brink of orgasm many times but never tumbling over the precipice, until they were breathless with need, their eyes shiny with feverish desperation.
“I can’t . . .” Maddie whispered.
“I know,” he answered.
“Condom, please, now, hurry.”
“Okay.” He tore into the box of condoms, grasped a corner of one foil packet in his teeth and ripped it open. He rolled the condom on with the speed of an Olympic athlete going for the gold.
“Take me,” she said, the minute he positioned himself beside her on the bed.
He could no longer resist. David knelt between her thighs and spread them wide.
The core of her womanhood welcomed his throbbing tip with a tightening twinge. He eased in gently, not wanting to cause her any discomfort.
She arched her hips upward, wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him down, forcing him in deeper, spearing herself with his body.
“Ooh.” She sighed, her warm breath feathering his hair. “Aah.”
His heart pounded in a wild, frenzied rhythm. Go slow, he told himself, but he could not. She felt too good, this felt too right.
She writhed against his movements, eyes closed, head thrown back, hair spilling over the pillow like golden sunshine.
You are my sunshine,
he thought recklessly.
He reveled in her soft coos of pleasure. He could feel her body responding to every precise, sensual stroke he delivered. In the quivering of her buttocks, he felt her bliss. She was close, so very close. He grinned.
While he stroked her with his body, he also stroked her with his hand, tenderly tweaking her trigger spot. The small, hooded button surged against his attention, begging for more.
His lungs shredded with the effort of breathing past the intensity of his desire for her.
“I’m on fire,” she moaned. “I’m on fire.”
“I know, sweetheart, I know.”
“David, David,” she cried his name and he’d never heard a more precious sound cross a woman’s lips. She clutched his shoulders with both hands and rocked her pelvis like a mad woman. “I’m close, I’m close.”
Ah, he thought, for the
coup de grâce.
He angled his head and took one burgeoning nipple into his mouth, never stopping his slow, steady stroking. His left hand stayed busy, gently caressing her hood. He suckled her. Cautiously at first and then picking up the tempo.
She writhed and thrashed, bucked and moaned. He never let up even though he was getting a cramp in his calf. To hell with his discomfort, this was about giving Maddie the pleasure she so justly deserved.
She raked her fingernails over his back, she tugged at his hair. He closed his eyes to fight off his own release, knowing that if he could just hold out for a few more minutes, he could take her with him.
He raised his head and peered into her face. Her eyes were closed, her face twisted into a mask of sexual anticipation. Her breathing was incredibly shallow, her face flushed.
“Look at me,” he said. “Open your eyes and look at me.”
Her eyes flew open and they tumbled into each other. The world fell away. Monaco did not exist. The hotel room did not exist. The bed did not exist.
It was as if they were floating in a separate universe. They were the only two people occupying this deep, vast space. Just he and Maddie and their beating hearts.
Lub-dub, lub-dub. Beating as one cosmic force.
She started to close her eyes.
“No, no, keep looking at me.”
She stared into him.
He stared into her.
And then they were one being. One force. There was no separation.
They cried out in unison when their simultaneous climax hit. Their gaze never separated as they were mirrored back to each other.
He was she. She was he. Yin and Yang in perfect harmony. Two halves of the whole. One.
Wave after wave of sensation washed over them, sending them hurtling together on the shores of sexual release. But with the deceleration of tension, came a quiet, soft, incredible peace.
This was right. This was perfect.
“David,” she whispered his name on a reverential breath. “Thank you, David.”
He smiled tenderly at her, his heart so full he could not speak. He did not move. He never wanted this moment to end.
Maddie. Maddie. Maddie. Had any name ever sounded so sweet?
She smiled back, reached up and lightly traced her fingers along his lips. “I love being joined to you like this.”
He nodded, the emotions so thick in his throat he feared he might actually cry if he started talking. He had never known such connection with another human being was possible. Had never dreamed he’d find such a woman. He’d always viewed love as a dark mystery that struck others but had somehow left him unscathed. That was probably why he hadn’t been heartbroken over his breakup with Keeley. The love had never really been there.
But now he knew the truth. Love was mysterious, oh yes. But he was not immune. He’d once thought he was too idealist to fall for the earthy, helpless trap of love, but he’d been wrong.
He’d been wrong about so many things.
What he thought was a heedless swirl of foolishness was instead the pinnacle of life itself. He wasn’t a poetic man, although he’d always admired beauty in art. But this feeling made him want to spout Wordsworth and Browning and Teasdale until he had no breath left.
His heart sang like a bird.
His heart bloomed like a cherry tree in spring.
His heart refracted like a rainbow, full, vibrant and unashamed.
He, David Marshall—the man who’d immersed himself in his work, the man who played to win at all costs, the man who was never quite sure where he belonged—was in love.
Maddie lay in the dark listening to David’s soft snores, her body still quivering from the effects of their stupendous lovemaking.
She wanted to cry with joy but she was too overwhelmed for tears. She’d never had an orgasm with a partner. She figured she never would.
But David . . . ah David. She hugged her pillow to her chest and grinned in the darkness. Thank you, David, thank you.
Her body was sated and her heart was full. She felt peaceful, relaxed and wonderfully reckless. Maybe that’s what it took for her to have an orgasm. To simply relax and let go of her fears. To turn loose and fall headlong into passion.
Careful.
That old naysaying voice was back, ruffling the waters of her newfound serenity.
Don’t jump to conclusions. Don’t assume you have a relationship just because he pushed all the right buttons.
So what should she assume? That they’d had one great night of unbridled passion and that was it?
Protect yourself. Hold back. This was just fabulous sex. You can’t forget that David is ultimately your enemy. No matter how much you like him, he’s out to jail your sister.
Right.
The last thing she needed was to go soft in the head over a man who was married to his job.
She had her sister to think about and the vow she’d taken on that cold December night oh so long ago. Cassie came first. Always.
So here was her plan. She’d play it cool. Act like nothing monumental had happened. If their joining had meant more to David than mere sex, then he was going to have to be the one to make the first move. He was going to have to open up and talk to her. She’d bravely taken the physical risk, opening her body to him. Only time would tell if he was brave enough to let down his steely guard and take an emotional gamble on her.
Until then, Maddie was making darned sure she kept her own heart well out of the fray.
NINETEEN
S
O WHERE DO
we go from here?” Maddie asked David over an omelet the following morning.
She’d been unusually quiet, waking him not long after dawn with a gentle nudge and a nod at the bedside clock.
They’d avoided talking or even looking at each other as they got dressed and left the room. For his part, David was pretty fuzzy on the details of the night before. He remembered making love to her. Remembered her orgasm quaking around him. Who could forget that?
But he didn’t remember what he’d said. Or what she’d said. Or if there had been any expectations for the future on her part. Hell, he didn’t even remember how he felt about all this. Everything beyond their explosive physical connection was pretty much a blur.
How did she feel about what had happened? Should he ask?
But fear of learning more than he could handle held him back. He elected to go with the closed mouth policy Maddie seemed to have adopted. If she wanted the sex to be casual, he was cool with that. The fewer complications, the better.
Right?
Don’t ask. Don’t tell. Best policy.
She’d put up the wall, he wasn’t inclined to scale it. Not now anyway. Not until the investigation was over and he knew where they stood.
“Pardon?” He pretended to be highly interested in his croissant, buttering it with elaborate intent.
“There are no more clues from Cassie,” Maddie said. “We’ve run into a dead end. You’re the detective. Where do we go from here? Do you suppose she and Shriver are still in Monaco? Why do you think they came here? Is there a famous art collector or something that lives nearby?”
“Maddie . . . I,” he started.
“Yes?” She leaned forward, her gaze fixed on his face and she clucked her tongue. “Your eye looks awful.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll live.”
“We never discussed your accident last night. What happened? Did your car fishtail in the rain?”
David cleared his throat. “I didn’t have a car accident.”
“No?” She looked confused.
“I came upon an accident and went down the hill to see if I could help. I pulled the driver from behind the wheel. He turned out to be Jocko Blanco. He took me unaware, beat me up, stole my car and my gun.”
“Oh, David.” Concern swam in her eyes and she raised a hand to her throat. “Jocko Blanco is here? In Monaco?”
“I’m afraid it’s worse than that.”
“Worse?” Her bottom lip trembled. He tried to keep his face impassive, neutral but somehow she picked up on his body language. She already knew something was wrong.
Steeling his courage, he told her what he should have told her back at the Prado.
“No.” Her face paled.
“I’m afraid so.”
“So I was right. Cassie didn’t willingly rob the Prado.”
“She did not.”
“You think Blanco kidnapped her away from Shriver and used her as a pawn to gain access to the museum?”
He nodded.
“So where is Cassie?” she whispered hoarsely.
“I don’t know.”
“Where do we go for answers?” She gazed at him intently, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.
She was depending on him to find her sister and he would not let her down. David had the oddest sense that helping her was the most important thing he’d ever done and at that moment he knew he had to make a choice. Stay on Shriver’s trail or go look for Cassie.
Four days ago, he would have snorted in derision if anyone had told him that anything could get in the way of his single-minded focus on collaring the art thief. For ten years, ever since Shriver had cruelly robbed his beloved Aunt Caroline of both her dignity and the Rembrandt, he’d lusted to see the man behind bars.
He’d even changed his major to law enforcement and joined the FBI just so he could hunt Shriver down and make him pay. He’d lain awake at night, imagining just how satisfying it would feel to clamp handcuffs on the thief who’d glibly used dozens of women to make his ill-gotten fortune. He’d dreamed of recovering the Rembrandt and returning it to his aunt. He’d spent a decade envisioning the happy smile on her face when he broke the good news. He wanted so badly to repay her for everything she’d done for him.