When he slipped inside her, she was warm and wet, and when she moved under him, he lifted his head to watch her watching him.
He whispered to her in Irish, heard her sigh in response. She laid her hand on his cheek, so he turned his head to press his lips to her palm as they moved together.
Slow and easy, easy and slow, no hurry, no time, no worry. Even as the need built, as the aches spread, as pulses beat, they clung to the moment, to each other.
And they held tight even when the moment blurred, and beyond it.
So she slept, and, when he knew she did, he joined her.
She dreamed, something in the dark, searching in the dark, following voices crying for help. Whenever she got close, they faded. When she called out to them, they sounded from a different direction.
No matter where she looked, she couldn’t find them.
She woke with a start, her communicator beeping.
“Crap!” Dragging herself out of the dream, she grabbed for the communicator. “Block video,” she ordered as Roarke called for lights on at ten percent.
“Dallas.”
Dispatch, Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. See the officers at twenty-one Leonard. Possible Homicide.
Already up and bolting to the closet for clothes, Eve snapped, “Is the DB female?”
Affirmative.
“Copy that.” She dragged on trousers. “Dallas out.”
She grabbed for a shirt. “Damn it, damn it, damn it. It’s going to be Hobe. He’s had her the longest. What the fuck time is it?”
“Half-four.”
After shoving her feet into boots, she snagged a belt, a jacket. When she came out of the closet with them, a fully dressed Roarke handed her coffee.
“How do you do that?” She gulped down coffee before reaching for her weapon harness.
“I’ll go with you. I’ll drive.”
“I don’t need you to—”
“I’ll go with you,” he repeated. “And I’ll drive, then find my way back.”
He’d have to, she thought, as the black tee and jeans didn’t meet his emperor-of-the-business-world standards.
“And you’ll be tagging up Peabody and alerting Morris.”
Since that’s exactly what she planned to do, she didn’t argue.
He pulled on a black leather jacket; she did the same.
“At least you can’t ding me for wearing black, since you are.” She shoved what she needed in her pockets. “Damn it, Roarke, he didn’t give her the ten days.”
The cat jogged down the stairs with them, then made a beeline for Summerset’s quarters as they went out the door where her DLE sat waiting.
“Twenty-one Leonard.”
“Yes, I heard.”
She hit the lights and sirens.
He punched it.
As she brought up a map on the dash screen, she tagged Peabody.
“Peabody.” Her partner answered with video blocked. “Oh hell, Dallas.”
“Twenty-one Leonard, female DB. Looks like he went just a little outside the area we’d blocked for the body dump. Get up, get dressed, get there.”
“Got it. On my way.”
She tagged Morris next.
He didn’t bother to block video, so in the dim light she saw him sit up in bed. The sheet, snowy white, covered—barely—anatomical parts she had no business seeing.
His sleepy eyes blinked once before he shook back his long, loose hair. “Who started off the day dead?”
“Not sure yet, on my way to find out. But the DB’s female, and the area indicates she’s going to connect to Elder. It’s him, Morris. I need you to take her.”
“I’ll be waiting for her. Give me the address, and I’ll arrange for her transportation when you’ve finished your on-scene.”
“Appreciate it. Sorry to call you in so early.”
“Dead cops, dead docs. Time means nothing to us.”
Since he started to toss the sheet back, she signed off quickly. “Dallas out.”
She programmed coffee for both of them as Roarke sped through the city.
“I saw Jake Kincade’s bare ass.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Not on purpose. When Nadine was on tour, I tagged her—and it was that earth-rotation deal wherever she was, so she’s in bed. With him. It was when I wanted her to dig on that asshole from Oklahoma—Quirk’s battering bastard of an ex. So she doesn’t block video, and Jake just gets out of bed, and there’s his bare ass as he walks off-screen.”
“All right.”
“It’s a damn good ass, okay, but … And here’s Morris. Doesn’t block video and he’s clearly naked in bed. And his works are under the sheet he’s about to toss off. It’s not like he’s a flasher perv, he—like Jake—just doesn’t think a thing of the naked parts.”