Bonds of Justice (28 page)

“Later?”

“Later.” Sucking on her lower lip, he nudged her away from the mirror and toward the bed, not sure he could leash himself in the face of such delicious temptation. She didn’t resist, letting him touch her as he would, lead her as he would.

It was a heady sensation, and one that paradoxically gave him more control. Nipping at her lower lip, he pulled back a little. She looked lost for an instant, until he raised his hands to the front of the shirt she wore to undo the top button. Her head dipped, watching him release button after button until the shirt hung completely undone. Lifting a hand, he touched a single finger on the dip of her breastbone, catching her attention.

Her chest rose up and down in a jagged rhythm as he ran that finger slowly down the valley of her breasts and over the softness of her abdomen to circle at her navel. Making an inarticulate sound, she gripped his biceps. “That is not an intimate region.”

It took him a second. “Oh yeah?” Spreading his fingers on her, he just barely brushed the curls at the apex of her thighs.

Her fingers tightened on him, her breaths turning shallow. Leaving his hand where it was, he tugged back her head and took another kiss, but this one was slow, lazy, as he attempted to seduce her into relaxing. She responded like wildfire, but her body remained on edge, almost quivering with tension. Kissing his way along her jaw, he said, “Take off the shirt.”

She went motionless, her breath hot against his neck. For a moment, he thought he’d pushed her too far, and went to back off. But she lifted her hands to the lapels of the shirt at that moment, her fingers bloodless from the force of her grip.

“No?” he asked, nuzzling at her, taking the scent of her into his lungs. “Want to stop?”

The answer was soft but immediate. “No.”

“Want me to help you?”

An almost imperceptible nod.

Forcing himself to keep a stranglehold on his own hunger, he lifted his hands to close over hers. Together, they peeled apart the edges of the shirt to her shoulders. “Let go,” he said against her lips.

It took several seconds, but her fingers opened. He held the shirt at her shoulders for a long moment before releasing the fabric. She could’ve stopped its descent using her arms, but she relaxed them and the material slid off her with the hushed grace of a lover’s caress. Instead of gorging himself on the lush beauty of her, he held her close, placing his hand very carefully on her lower back, his eyes locked with hers, his mouth a whisper’s breath from her own.

There was, he was glad to see, no fear in her. A little trepidation, but that, he could understand. Smiling, he kissed her again, lazy, easy, undemanding. Her mouth opened under him, but her body continued to thrum with tension. “What’re you afraid of?” he finally asked, cupping her cheek with his free hand. “And don’t say nothing.”

A long, shuddering breath. “I just want to get it over with once—then I’ll know what to expect.”

Tenderness swept over him, along with a touch of chagrin. “That’s not exactly the kind of thing a man wants to hear when he’s trying to seduce his woman.”

“Max.”
A worried look. “I feel as if I’m stumbling in the dark. If I knew, then I could . . .”

“Control it?” A gentle tease.

Her hands fisted at his waist. “You think I should just let go.”

“No,” he said, sipping at her mouth between words. “Everyone’s a little edgy their first time.”

“So you’ll—”

“How about instead of rushing it,” he murmured, “we do what feels good? No expectations, no end goal.”

“But I want to finish.” A stubborn look.

Affectionate hunger rocked through him, at once savage and playful. “Yeah?” He couldn’t help his smile. “Alright.”

Her eyes widened, as if she’d read something on his face that worried her. “Max?”

But he was already swinging her up in his arms and placing her on the bed. Coming down over her, he settled himself in the vee of her thighs. “Wrap your legs around me.”

“That feels . . .” Breathy, almost shocked. “Your jeans . . .”

He shifted against her delicate flesh, knowing the rough material would intensify the sensations. Giving an inarticulate cry, she arched her body. It was all the invitation he needed. Dipping his head, he took one dark little nipple into his mouth and sucked hard, even as he insinuated a hand between their bodies, reaching for the tiny bud in the liquid-soft center of her that could give so much pleasure.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she tried to pull him closer and push him away at the same time. Shifting his attention to her neglected breast, he began to play with her clitoris, hard then soft.
There.
He felt it the instant she reacted, modified his stroke to what brought her the most pleasure, lifting himself off her enough that he could stroke downward to rub at the sensitive entrance to her body as well.

She was wet, slick. He couldn’t resist the temptation to dip his finger within. That was all it took.

A choked scream. Her body arching bowstring tight.

He could feel the edge of the pleasure that pulsed through her, wanted only to bury himself inside her, feel those muscles clench around his cock. Sweat beaded along his spine as he stroked her down from the orgasm instead.

The single thing that made it bearable was that
he’d
done this to her, to his smart, sexy, stubborn . . . and vulnerable J.

Rising to brace his palms on either side of her when she slumped onto the bed, her chest heaving, he took a kiss. Another. She gave of herself without hesitation, her body limp beneath his, her skin sheened with perspiration. “Feeling more relaxed?” he murmured.

Sophia lifted her lashes to see pure wickedness in the gorgeous bitter-chocolate eyes looking down at her. “Yes, thank you.” Her own lips curved—something that felt sparkling, new, and sublime in its perfection. “Did I rush you?”

“A little, but I plan to get my revenge.” Another
Max
kiss—as if he had all the time in the world to taste her. “Now, just lie back and enjoy.”

Right at that moment, she couldn’t have done anything else. Intellectually, she’d known about orgasms, but it was quite a different matter to have one tear through her body. “Is that what it’ll be like when we have sex?”

“Yes. Exactly. So don’t worry.”

She thought she caught a strangled edge in those words, but Max had dipped his head to kiss his way along her collarbone and it became difficult to think. Managing to raise her arms enough to touch his back, she pulled at his T-shirt. “Will you take this off?”

He raised his head. “You okay with that much tactile contact after what we just did?”

It was tempting to say yes at once, but she took a moment to think about it. “Yes.” A strange feeling in her chest, a mix of pleasure, anticipation and . . . laughter. “You’re wonderfully blockheaded.”

His laugh sounded startled out of him. Getting up to straddle her on his knees, he grinned. “Guess being wooden’s taken on a whole new meaning around you.” He stripped off his T-shirt with an economy of motion that struck her as very male. It was as he twisted to throw the T-shirt off the side of the bed that she caught it.

“Wait.” Rising up on her elbows, she tried to see around to his back. “What is that?”

To her surprise, color streaked across his cheekbones. “A memento of my misspent youth.”

She was even more curious now. “Show me.”

Muttering under his breath, he leaned down to kiss her instead. “You can look at it later.”

“But—”

His mouth swept over hers, all demand and a tightly wound hunger.
Oh
, she thought
, oh.
And that was all her mind had the capacity to think because he was pressing her down onto the bed and the skin-to-skin contact was a shocking whip of fire through her body. But rather than drawing back as she would have once, she arched toward him.
No more fear,
she thought
.
This was
life
. This was
Max.

“Sophie, my sweet, sexy, Sophie.” His jaw brushed over her neck as he lowered his head to kiss her breasts, his mouth possessive in a way she’d never known she craved until this moment, until this man. Twisting under the grip he had on her rib cage—holding her in place for his maddening caresses, she felt the oh-so-intriguing outline of his erection pressing against her thigh.

“Max, please.” She pushed at the sleek heat of his shoulders.

He lifted his head, his hair hanging messy and touchable across his forehead. “Sophie?”

“I want to see.”

Shuddering, he let her roll him onto his back. His jaw was a brutal line, the muscles in his arms rock hard as he gripped the bars in the headboard, but he said nothing as she rose beside him, as she ran her hand down the muscled plane of his chest in sensual exploration. “Your chest is smooth.” Dark gold and free of hair. “Except here.” A thin line of black that began just below his belly button and arrowed inexorably downward.

Max hissed out a breath as she followed that path with her finger. Looking up at him through her lashes, she felt something a little bit sinful come to purring life deep within her soul. “I’m a very quick learner, you know.”

He said a word that turned the air blue. “I’m not exactly in the mood to be teased.”

“Are you sure?” Feeling an odd exhilaration in her blood, she went to the button of his jeans and found it already undone. She could see why. He was straining against the zipper. Tugging at the metal tab, she went to pull it down when Max said, “I’ll do that,” and reached for it.

She caught his hand, lacing her fingers through his. “Don’t you trust me?”

A heated look. “You touch me and it’s over.”

“So we’ll start again.” Pressing her lips to their clasped hands, she untangled their fingers. Though he gave her a scorching look, he didn’t try to halt her again when she skimmed her hands over the lean-hipped beauty of him, began to tug at the zipper. She was careful, but not hesitant. And that was Max’s gift to her. With no other man could she imagine being this open, this vulnerable.

Max’s abdomen relaxed a fraction as she finished unzipping him. He was—only just—contained within his briefs. Curiosity swept over her in a wave of unashamed lust. She’d seen medical images of men, been taught about sexual organs in her health lessons, but no one had ever told her that everything would change when it was
her
man. Her fingers itched to stroke him, her heart thundering in excitement, mouth dry with anticipation.

Looking up, she saw that he’d closed his eyes, the cords of his neck strained white against the warm tone of his skin. And she knew he wouldn’t stop her, no matter what she desired. Trembling with need that made her skin tight, her body slick, she gave in to the luscious molten heat uncurling in her stomach and began to kiss her way down that thin path of hair. The texture of it was surprisingly silky rough against his heated flesh, and it was instinct to stroke her hand over his skin as she tasted.

“Jesus baby.” Strangled words as she lay her cheek on his abdomen and reached down to close her fingers over the stiff length of him through the black fabric of his briefs. Max’s entire form went rigid . . . and it just felt exquisitely right to lick her tongue across the very edge of his briefs, to squeeze her hand firmly along the masculine heat in her hold.

 

Max walked out of the bathroom to find Sophia curled up under the sheets. There was a look of distinct guilt on her face. Joy warmed him up from the inside out, but he kept his expression stern. “That’s twice you’ve rushed me.” He hadn’t lost control like that . . . well, ever. “Don’t think I’m not going to punish you for it.”

Color tinged her cheeks as he slipped in under the sheets beside her. But no matter the temptation, he didn’t pull her into his arms, having noticed that she was reacting much more quickly to even the slightest touch. “It’ll take a while for you to recover.”

A stubborn look that faded into a sigh. “You’re right. I think I’ve pushed it as far as my senses will take today.”

“I guess it’s like a person who’s been starving,” Max murmured. “When you start to eat again, you have to do it in small bites at first.”

“Can I bite you?” A teasing question that didn’t surprise him now that he’d met the wicked side of her.

“If you ask nice.”

They lay together for a time, talking about nothing, and then later as they sat side by side in the living room, about the complex jigsaw that was the Nikita investigation. But eventually, she had to go to her own apartment. “I wish I could spend all night with you,” she said to him as he walked her over. “But it’ll be too much today.”

“Next time,” he said, keeping his distance as she unlocked the door and entered. “Sophia?”

She glanced back, so beautiful with those amazing eyes and that soft dark hair.

“Tell me if anything happens.” His hand tightened on the doorjamb at the thought of losing her to the ferocity of her gift, of never again seeing her lying rumpled and smiling in his bed, never again hearing her talk in that prim tone that held an undertone of wild emotion.

“I will.” A steady answer, but when she looked up, her eyes were bruised. “I’m so
angry
, Max,” she said in harsh whisper. “How am I supposed to fight my own mind?”

Frustrated, choked up with a rage that had nowhere to go, Max made a cup of coffee and tried to lose himself in work. Sophia had updated him on everything she’d discovered during the time he’d been tied up in the wrenching aftermath of the discovery of Gwyn Hayley’s body, but now he began to read her notes in depth. She had one hell of a brain, he thought. The information was not only neatly bullet-pointed and outlined, but cross-referenced in a way that told him she had an innate understanding of how his own mind worked.