Fatal Hearts (16 page)

He looked off toward the sitting room, leaving her free to look at his profile. He looked tired, she realized. Lines of fatigue etched his face. Was he not sleeping?

“I can’t help but think if it was me lying in the ground in that family plot, Josh would have done a better job getting to the bottom of what happened.”

His words throbbed with so much emotion, Hayden felt her own throat grow painfully tight.
Say something!
“Oh, no, Boyd. No.”

He bent his head, massaged his temple. “If our positions were reversed, he’d have answers.”

“I don’t believe that. Josh was an amazing investigator, but he wouldn’t be any further ahead right now than you are. He still would’ve had to deal with funeral arrangements. He’d have had to help your parents through those initial days. He’d only just be getting started, like you are.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he said, but he didn’t look like he believed it.

In that moment, she felt the edge of his grief as keenly as her own. Without thinking about it, she reached for his hand, lacing her fingers with his.

His head was still bent, and she saw him transfer his focus to their joined hands. Then, almost in slow motion, he lifted her hand and turned so he faced her. For a wild few seconds, she thought he was going to press his lips to the back of her hand. What he did felt even more intimate. He unlinked their fingers and pressed her hand to his chest.

The feel of all that solid, warm muscle through his shirt was somehow shocking. As was the eye contact. It was electric. She couldn’t look away. But if she didn’t, he would kiss her. That’s where this was going unless she stopped it. She could pull back now and he’d let her go. He wouldn’t say a word about it or make things awkward. But dammit, she was tired of always guarding her reactions. And God help her, she wanted to know his kiss. A real kiss this time. She burned for it.

Then she became conscious of the thudding of his heart beneath her palm.

His heart.
It felt so strong, so alive.

Suddenly it seemed crucial to get closer to him, closer to his vitality. To feel alive herself.

She leaned in, brought her other hand up to his chest.

With a groan, he released her hand that he’d been pressing to his chest so he could draw her fully into his arms.

Yes!
At the full-body contact, every hormone, every nerve bundle in her body joined the chorus.
Yes, yes, yes, yes.

But despite the desire she’d seen darken his eyes, all he did was press her body to his—warm, living flesh against flesh, as though he sought only to comfort or be comforted. It was she who went up on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his. There was the slightest hesitation on his part, long enough for her to wonder if she’d made a horrible mistake. Before she could retreat, he lifted his hands to her head, holding her in place as his mouth crashed down onto hers.

The thrill that forked through her was almost painful, leaving her nerve endings feeling singed. Her heart thumped so hard, she could feel her pulse throbbing in her fingertips. And his smell! So like Josh’s scent, it was comforting and familiar on the one hand and confusing on the other.

Then he urged her lips apart and his tongue swept into her mouth. The taste of him exploded on her senses. There was no echo of Josh here. Only Boyd. She pressed closer, sliding her arms up around his neck. Conveniently, that brought the aching tips of her breasts into contact with his chest. A bolt of desire shot straight to her womb. Without conscious thought, she rubbed her breasts against him.

He growled against her lips, sending another thrill zinging to her core. One of his hands fisted in her hair. He broke the kiss and urged her head backward. The arm that encircled her pulled her closer, and he bent to kiss her exposed throat. Delight shivered through her at the contrasting sensations of his hot, silky mouth and the abrading rasp of stubble. She arched against him as he explored the delicate skin, then found the sweet spot below her ear. The heat of his mouth, the warmth of his breath on her skin, the vibrating urgency of his body beneath her hands . . . Dear Lord, it was almost too much to bear. But the alternative—stopping him—was unthinkable. She couldn’t even remember why she might want to.

“Touch me,” she commanded.

He didn’t need any more encouragement. Or a road map. He released her hair and dropped that hand to clasp one of her breasts. His thumb found the stiffened peak through the thin fabric of her bra and T-shirt, and she gasped softly.

Then his lips were on hers again, as though he wanted to take the sound into him. This time, she met the demand of his mouth with demands of her own. Her tongue tangled with his, stroking, tasting. All the while, his hands moved over her, her breasts, the dip of her waist, her ass, setting up a tingling arousal everywhere they landed.

She slid her hands under his T-shirt, gliding them greedily over his skin. She’d seen his bare chest at the beach, knew it was mostly hairless except for the dusting of hair on his pecs and the thin arrow of hair pointing south. But touching him was still a revelation. Her palms transmitted the information to her brain and to other parts of her anatomy. The smooth texture of the bare skin, the rougher texture of the haired area, the thrilling hardness of his abdomen—it was sensory overload, but she craved more.

Oh, God, she needed to get horizontal with him.

She pulled her mouth from his, her eyes fixing on his damp kiss-reddened lips. “Tell me you have condoms.”

She felt the change in him immediately, but it was still a shock when he released her and stepped back.

“Oh, Christ, Hayden. I’m sorry.”

He was
stopping
? “Sorry? What for?”

“For all of that.” He dragged a hand through his hair. Hair that she’d already done a pretty thorough job of mussing. “You don’t want to get involved with anyone—much less with your dead best friend’s brother. I respect that. I respect
you
. This was . . . I’m sorry. I don’t really have any defense, except—”

“Defense? Boyd, you don’t need one. I’m the one who started—” She looked up at him, horrified. “Oh, crap, I jumped you. You’re grieving, feeling low, and I freaking
jumped
on you. I am so sorry.”

Boyd was so fixated on the battle to keep his hands off her, it took a few seconds for his brain to process her words. “Wait, what? You didn’t jump me.”

“Yes, I did.” She put a hand over her mouth. “Omigod, I so totally did. You were feeling discouraged and I took advantage of that. All you wanted was comfort and I—”

He wanted more than ever to draw her into his arms. “Hayden, what just happened had very little to do with comfort. And
nothing
to do with you taking advantage of me.”

“But—”

“But nothing. That was me doing what I’ve been wanting to do since the first moment I saw you at the hospital.”

“What if I said I changed my mind?”

“Changed your mind?” His heart leapt. As did another part of his anatomy.
But holy shit, how can this be happening?
He’d specifically told her about Josh being in love with her, thinking that would somehow kill this attraction. “I’d say you’re smarter than that.”

“I’ll ignore that insult, mainly because I haven’t been very smart. Not smart at all. You’ve been right in front of me, and the attraction has been there, but I haven’t done anything about it. The whole keeping my distance from romantic or physical entanglements—it’s become such a habit. It really didn’t occur to me that you’re the perfect candidate.”

Perfect candidate?
She couldn’t be serious. Could she?

“Oh, Hayden, no. I am so not a good bet.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Can I count on you to leave when the investigation is done? Go back home to your life?”

“Well yes, but—”

“Then you actually are a very good bet. Because that’s just what I need.”

Dear God.
Had he heard that right? The hottest, most gorgeous woman he’d met in years had just propositioned him, offering a no-strings sexual relationship with a wide-open exit clause. But she was also the nicest, most amazing woman he’d ever met. And oh God, she’d been
Josh’s love
. How was he supposed to reconcile that?

How could he start an affair with the woman Josh wanted to marry?

Because you want her.

“Boyd? Aren’t you going to say anything?”

No.
No, he wasn’t going to say anything. He was done thinking too.

He reached out and hauled her to him. She made a little squeak of alarm when she collided with his chest, but he swallowed it, crushing those soft, cushiony lips beneath his in a kiss of pure, searing demand. She opened her mouth to him immediately. His tongue swept in, claiming her. And Christ, she tasted good. Heady and female and fucking fantastic. Her arms snaked up around his neck, and she clung to him. Which gave him perfect access to her back, the curve of her hips, her firm, luscious ass.

Yeah, he was toast. No way in this life or the next was he about to say no to Hayden.

Because they both needed to breathe, he pulled back and looked down at her. Her face was flushed, her eyes unfocused, pupils dilated.

“That, sweetheart, is getting jumped.”

She drew her tongue across her plump bottom lip, probably to soothe it, but his cock reacted predictably.

“Isn’t there more to it?” Her voice was huskier than he’d ever heard it. Sexy.

“Yes, much more. And, yes, I do have condoms.”

CHAPTER 16

Boyd followed as Hayden led the way to his bedroom.

His instinct was to lift her up until she locked those long legs around him and carry her to the bed, kissing the hell out of her all the way. He wanted to fan the flames of her excitement. Instead, he let her lead the way under her own steam, giving her the chance to let the reality of what they were about to do sink in.

When she reached the bed, she turned. Her smile was tremulous. “All the times I came over here, I never even sat on this bed.”

The reminder of Josh should have cooled Boyd’s jets, but it didn’t. He’d grown used to sleeping in the bed his brother used to occupy. “Does it bother you that Josh slept here? Because if it does, we could—”

“It doesn’t.”

Good.
Because he didn’t know how he would have finished that sentence.
Do it on the tiny couch? On the floor? Up against the wall?
Hayden deserved better.

With her eyes locked on his, she reached for the hem of her T-shirt. Clearly she hadn’t changed her mind. The T-shirt came off over her head, and she tossed it aside. His eyes clapped onto the white bra cupping her breasts. It was one of those seamless things designed to make women look amazing in sweaters and T-shirts, but it was not the kind of bra he often saw. No color, no lace, no feats of engineering in the cleavage department. Basically not the kind of bra a woman wore when she knew she was going to be undressed. At least, not the women he knew. Somehow, the difference made him feel unaccountably tender toward her.

“Come here,” he said.

She stepped into his arms with no hesitation, lifting her face for a kiss. It was a long, drugging one, unhurried and sensual. It was as though now the decision was made, they had all the time in the world.

But sensual and slow eventually gave way to urgency. When her hands worked their way under his shirt, he tore it off. She pressed herself to him, gasping at the skin-to-skin contact. He reached for the clasp of her bra and worked it free. She moved back long enough to let the garment fall away. He had just enough time to register the lush shape of her breasts with their rosy-pink tips before she pressed them to his chest again. And, oh Christ, they felt good.

He needed to get her naked, and he sure as hell needed to get out of his jeans. But first, he needed to locate a condom.

He pulled back. Her eyes were heavy lidded and sensual, her lips reddened. And her poor face. She was going to have some whisker burn. If he were a better man, he’d stop and shave right now. But he wasn’t. He rubbed her lower lip with the ball of his thumb. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

“What?”

“Condom.”

“Oh! Of course.”

He ducked into the en suite bathroom, grabbed his shaving kit, and dug out a package of condoms. With one in hand and a couple more in the pocket of his jeans, he went back to the bedroom.

She reached for him, going up on tiptoe to kiss his mouth again. He had no objection to that. Then her fingers glided down his chest to find the button of his denims and unfastened it. He stilled her hand with his own.

“Ladies first.”

She gave him a wicked smile. “Oh, I like that policy. Especially in the bedroom.”

He turned her around so her sweet, round butt was tucked up against his hardness and reached around to find the button at the top of her jeans. He freed it and slid the short zipper down. Then he slid his hand inside her panties, his fingers finding her moist warmth. She made a mewling sound that went straight to his groin. God, she was slick!

But he wasn’t finished torturing her. Not yet. Tossing the condom on the bed, he lifted his newly freed hand to her left breast. He still hadn’t seen them properly, but they were full enough to fill his hand. With one hand, he delved into her wet heat, and, with the other, he teased her nipple into a tight, hard nub. Panting now, she ground her butt into him.

“Now, Boyd.” The plea emerged with what sounded almost like a sob.

He released her. She immediately turned around, stripped her jeans off, panties and all, and stepped out of them. Sweet Lord in heaven, she was gorgeous. Her hair was tousled, her lips swollen. Her breasts were beautifully proportioned, crested with rosy-pink tips that had hardened into tight buds. Her waist dipped, flowing smoothly into womanly hips, strong, shapely legs, and pretty feet. His gaze traveled back up to the apex of her thighs, where a neat thatch of golden hair hid the sweetest part. The sight hardened his cock even further. He’d never cared much for the trend of women waxing themselves bare. Maybe it was the cop in him, but he didn’t want to feel as if he were bedding a prepubescent girl.

“You are so beautiful,” he said. “Perfect.”

“And you are so not naked.”

He laughed, shucking his jeans and underwear off just as she had; then he bent to peel off his socks. When he looked up, the expression on her face made him grin.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

He took her in his arms and kissed her. Then he whisked her off her feet, causing her to gasp. Smiling with satisfaction, he placed her on the bed and followed her down. He wanted to lie beside her and tease her some more. Kiss every inch of her body and bring her to climax with his mouth. But that would have to wait until he’d had a close shave. She wouldn’t thank him for whisker burns on her most tender, intimate flesh.

Instead, he covered her body with his. Weight propped on his arms, cock nestled between her legs, he pressed her lush body into the mattress. She clutched at his shoulders and surged against him.

Dammit, where is that condom?
He rolled away, located it, and sheathed himself in record time.

“Please, Boyd. Don’t make me wait. I want you inside me.”

He rolled to face her. Without encouragement, she rolled onto her side to bring their bodies into alignment.

“Kiss me.”

He obeyed, taking her mouth in another deep kiss while he found her sex with his hand. Groaning, she parted her legs for him so he could stroke her. He almost groaned himself when he found how wet she was. How ready.

She pulled at his shoulders and rolled onto her back. He took the hint, covering her again with his body. Some fumbling and he was there, poised at her entrance.

“Now!”

He pushed into her scalding heat with deliberate control, but she surged up to meet him, taking most of his length. The shock of sensation stilled him. She gasped and stilled too, and the sound reminded him that it had probably been a while for her. Maybe a long while.

“Are you okay?”

She ran her hands down his flanks. “I am so much more than okay.” Her hands found his butt and urged him closer. He took that as permission to move. Reminding himself she was out of practice, he pulled out marginally and rocked back into her, filling her completely. He did it again and again, setting up an insistent rhythm. It felt so good, he had to grit his teeth to keep the tempo easy. And the view of her breasts bobbing with every rocking thrust didn’t make it any easier.

“Oh, yes.” Her words were husky, barely recognizable as her voice. “That’s good.”

He liked a woman who wasn’t afraid to say what she liked.

Then her hands were on his chest, his abdomen, his sides. They skated over his skin, one moment all soft palms, the next clutching with fingernails. Damn, but he wanted those hands everywhere. On his back, at his nape, in his hair . . . Before he even realized what he was doing, he’d picked up the rhythm, driving into her harder, faster, his strokes longer.

“Yes!”

She moved with him, meeting his every thrust. He felt the tension rising in her as the tempo increased. Going down on one elbow, he reached between them to part her folds wider, moving higher to hopefully give her more friction. That tipped her over the edge she’d been striving for. Her words were broken, sobbed out of her, as her orgasm rose, peaked, and rolled over her. It was all he could do to hold on and let her ride it out before his own need took over.

She held him close now. Her breasts beneath him were soft and cushioning, and their nipples had contracted into tight, hard points from her orgasm. Her breath was warm in his ear, and she was so incredibly tight as he plunged into her, her internal muscles still clenching and releasing. She sank the fingers of one hand into his hair, and he came with a muffled cry.

Arms trembling, he rested on her a moment while the world righted itself.

Goddamn.