He laid his hands on the counter on either side of her thighs and took a deep, cleansing breath, then raised his gaze to hers and offered up a smile, one that let her know how much he wanted her. Because he really did want her. His cock was hard and his whole body ached for her. But this wasn’t about what he wanted.
She arched a brow. “You’re kidding, right? I’m half-naked here, Dante.”
He took a long, slow look at her, from her messed-up hair that made her look sexy as hell, to her lips, swollen from his kisses, to her bra that barely covered her spectacular breasts, to her flat belly and those barely there shorts and her oh-so-hot long legs.
“You’re still dressed. All the important parts of you, anyway. I think we need to talk about this before we jump into having sex.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Isn’t that usually the woman’s line?” She grabbed her tank top and pushed him away, leaping off the counter at the same time.
He turned. “Anna.”
“Don’t. Just don’t.” She pulled her shirt back on, then grabbed his and shoved it in his chest. “You’re angry.”
She whirled around to face him. “You think? I’ve just been rejected.”
“I didn’t reject you. I just want to talk.”
“Manspeak for I-don’t-think-you’re-hot-enough-to-fuck.” She stormed off into the living room.
He laughed and followed. “That’s not what I said. You are definitely hot enough to fuck.”
She stopped in the middle of the room and narrowed her gaze at him.
Okay, maybe laughing had been the wrong move. Good thing her gun was in the other room. Then again, she did have that hidden Glock in here somewhere.
“Don’t you dare laugh about this. You don’t get a woman all hot and bothered, then say you want to talk. Are you some kind of moron?”
“I guess I am. Look, you seemed tense.”
She threw her hands in the air. “Of course I was tense. You were kissing and touching me and I was turned on like crazy. Also, I haven’t had a decent orgasm in like six freaking months. Are you reading my lips here? Six. Months. You’d be tense, too, wouldn’t you?”
Dante gaped at her. Anna threw him a murderous glare.
“Are all men this dense or just you? Jesus, Dante, do I have to draw you a road map to my vagina, or are you grabbing a clue?”
He finally lost the smile. “I’m beginning to.”
“Good. So can we get down to the sex so we can get back to work, or do we just want to scrap the whole idea?”
She wanted to get it over with? Really? Was sex a chore for her, a task to get through so she could get back to the exciting part of her life—her job?
Who the hell had she been having sex with, anyway? Was it the men she’d been with, or was it the past that had gotten her all screwed up?
This was going to take some finessing, and a hell of a lot of patience.
“Anna.”
She narrowed her gaze at him as he approached.
“What?”
“You see sex as a battle to be won.”
She backed away. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” He caught up to her, took her hand and pulled her toward the sofa, dragging her on top of him. She went willingly, but damn she was stiff as a board.
“It’s not ridiculous. You’re tense. All my hard work massaging those tight muscles just went down the drain.”
She sat astride him, pressing her hands on his chest—keeping distance. “That’s because you pissed me off. We were doing fine in the kitchen—until you stopped.”
“Because I could tell you weren’t ready.”
She cocked a brow. “Really. And how could you tell?”
“It was in your eyes. Your body was saying yes, but the rest of you wasn’t on board.”
She fisted his shirt in her hands. He wasn’t sure if she was frustrated, turned on or preparing to take a swing at him.
“Psychoanalyzing me, Renaldi?”
“No, just reading some clear signals that told me to back off. When we have sex it’s going to be because you’re ready for it. Totally ready for it.”
She surged against him and his cock roared to life. He gritted his teeth, refusing to let her control the game. “Seems to me
you’re
totally ready.”
“We aren’t talking about me. We’re talking about you.”
She leaned forward, her hair loose and draped around her beautiful face. “I am ready.” She rocked against him again and he thought for a few seconds about giving up and throwing her to the sofa and taking what she was offering. Why bother worrying about whether or not she was psychologically ready? Physically she was totally in the game, right? She was offering, and it had been a long time since he’d been inside a hot woman. It would be easy, they could both get off and ease some of the tension. Then they could concentrate on finding a killer.
But this was Anna, and something was off with her. He didn’t just want to fuck her, he wanted to make love to her, wanted her to be with him—really with him. Not just two bodies grinding together, but engaged in a way that went beyond just the physical.
And he didn’t think he’d get that if all they did was rip each other’s clothes off and go at it.
Not right now, anyway.
She needed a slow, seductive dance. He intended to break down her barriers no matter how long it took, no matter how painful it was going to be—for both of them.
And the one thing he knew about her was that she liked to be in control. He’d bet that extended to the bedroom, too, where maybe the average guy wouldn’t notice that she wanted to be in charge so she could playact the game of sex.
Like now, when she slid her hand between them to rub his erection, hoping to distract him.
“I’m ready, Dante. Let’s get to it.”
That was part of her problem. Her body was all over his, hot and sexy and doing all the right things. God, was she doing all the right things. In fact, if she continued to do that he was either going to explode or throw her on the floor and shove inside her so he could come. And he’d make her come. And she’d be happy about that, too. They’d both be happy.
But there was a disconnect in her eyes. Her body might want the sex and the release that went with it, but the rest of her hadn’t shown up to the party.
And he really wanted her focused on what they did together—what he did to her—not just her body, but her mind, her heart and her soul.
Maybe it was too much to ask of her, given what she’d been through, but he was willing to give it a try.
He wrapped his arm around her and flipped her over onto her back, looming over her, keeping watch as her eyes widened.
“You’re ready, huh?”
She smiled. “Totally.”
“For anything?”
He saw the glint of wariness, but she masked it by lifting her chin. “I can take whatever you’ve got. Bring it on.”
And then he knew for sure she looked on sex as a challenge to be won, not something to be shared.
He was going to change that.
When she reached between them to touch him again, he grabbed her wrist and held it pinned to her side. “No.”
She frowned. “Why not?”
Instead of answering her, he kissed her, a deliberately gentle kiss with just his lips, meant to slow down the tempo. He knew she wanted him hot and bothered and eager for penetration. Which he was. He really—oh, hell, yes—was. But he was also a man used to denying himself what he wanted.
He could wait.
Anna had no idea what kind of game Dante was playing, but the rules had changed and she didn’t have the upper hand anymore, which she didn’t like one bit.
But he was kissing her in this slow and deliberate way that made her head fuzzy, and all her limbs went lax until all she could think about were the delicious things he was doing with his mouth.
So when he rolled to his side and slid his hand under her shirt to snake his fingers along her stomach, her guard was down and her concentration was focused on his hands and how very much she craved his touch. And when he cupped a breast, his thumb drawing lazy circles across her bra-covered nipple, she whimpered in protest, wishing she was already naked so she could feel the touch directly.
She was a languid pool of nerve endings, a sensual puppet, and Dante pulled all her strings. Somewhere in her sex-fogged brain was the thought that this wasn’t how it usually played out. She always had control. She was the one who set the pace, the scenario, and she never, ever handed the reins to a man.
But when Dante hooked his leg over hers, his denim-clad thigh rubbing against her center, and he took her mouth at the same time he pulled the cup of her bra down and found her nipple, a million stars exploded behind her eyes. All coherent thought fled as he plucked the bud between his fingers and drove his thigh against her sex, his mouth devouring hers, his tongue exploring in a sensual dance she had no hope to resist. All she could do was clutch his shirt in a death grip and hope she could continue to draw breath through his assault.
His fingers were on a march, sweeping over her breasts, her abdomen and lower, her breath catching as he slid his hand into her shorts.
He pulled his lips from her mouth. She opened her eyes and found him watching her, something far too intimate to bear, especially considering where his hand was. She scrunched her eyes closed and buried her face in his neck.
“Anna.”
His fingers danced along the top of her sex, dipping into her panties. She arched against him as wild sensation burst and she lost all hope of controlling this game.
“Anna, look at me.”
He asked too much of her. She bit down on her lip when his fingers slid lower, but couldn’t resist the moan of sheer pleasure as he found the tight bud and began to play with it.
“Anna.”
She tilted her head back and opened her eyes, meeting his gaze at the same time he tucked two fingers inside her. Her lips parted and she gasped, lifting to take more, feeling every sensation as his thumb swirled around the tight knot until she thought she might explode.
“Don’t hold back,” he whispered, pinning her with his gaze. “Release for me.”
She’d never known a man like this, who could take her from anger and frustration to sweet pleasure in mere minutes. But as she rode the crest of his finessing fingers, she knew without a doubt she couldn’t hold back.
It had been too long and, damn him, he was just too good.
And as the pulses began deep inside her, she knew that he felt them, too, saw the smile of triumph on his face as she rocked against his hand and let go.
She gripped his arm, lifted her hips, and his name spilled from her lips.
“Dante.”
He took her mouth in a deep, searing kiss as she climaxed, absorbing her cries as waves of pleasure crashed over her, leaving her shaken and trembling against him.
And still, he held on to her, his fingers continuing to coax every quake within her until he finally withdrew.
She expected him to strip her and take her then, but he only held her, kissed her, took her down gently from the rollicking roller coaster of sensations and emotions of her orgasm until she couldn’t help but ask him.
“Dante.”
He looked down at her. “Yeah?”
“We’re not finished yet.”
He grinned. “No, Anna. We’re not. Not by a long shot.”
“Shouldn’t we…”
“Get back to work? Yeah, we probably should.”
He shifted her upright.
Was he serious?
“But—”
He cupped her chin with his fingers. “I think you need to trust me before we go any further. Let’s take this slow.”
She glanced down at the ridge against his jeans that showed the pleasure had been all one-sided, and wondered how he could deny himself like that.
“I’ll survive. Let’s get back to work. We have a killer to catch.”
She inhaled, let it out and watched him head into the other room.
Trust him? She didn’t know what to make of him.
She stood and headed into the kitchen.
Fifteen
“Y
ou’ve got one hell of a smile on your face.”
Anna lifted her head, lost the smile and narrowed her gaze at Roman, who leaned a hip against her desk. “I do not.”
He frowned and crossed his arms. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on. I’m working here.”
“You’re working with a smile. That’s not like you.”
Geez. She came into the office in a halfway decent mood and she got an interrogation. “Why are you being so nosy?”
He slid into the chair next to her desk. “Why are you being so evasive?”
Damn Dante, anyway. This was why she preferred being tense. Her being relaxed made people suspicious. “I’m not being evasive. I got a good night’s sleep, that’s all.”
Roman laughed. “Yeah, that is unusual for you. And strange considering everything going on. What brought on the sleep?”
She adjusted the files on her desk. “I kind of had a bodyguard. Dante’s staying with me.”
Roman arched a brow. “Is that right?”
“He insisted.”
“And you’re no pushover. So what gives?”
She shoved the files away and gave Roman a pointed look. “You suddenly have a problem with Dante?”
“I just wonder if he’s really who he says he is.”
She looked around, though Dante wasn’t there anyway. He’d gone with Ellen Clemons to help her make Jeff’s funeral arrangements, something she admired him for doing and knew wasn’t going to be easy for him.
He told her he’d catch up with her later. After he’d followed her to the precinct, of course. And that had been after much arguing on her part that she could drive herself to work without an escort. But he’d insisted. She’d told him he could shadow her if he wanted, but it was a waste of time.
He had, and had pulled off when she’d entered the lot.
Anna was grateful for the reprieve after last night’s intimacy. She needed time to regroup and figure out just what they meant to each other.
But now she had Roman in her face questioning Dante’s motives, and she didn’t need that today.
“I don’t understand, Roman. He’s FBI. He has the credentials.” Which he wasn’t, but at least Anna knew who he was.
“Is he? It just seems strange that all this shit starts going down the minute he steps into town.”