This time the kiss spun out and out and out until he felt her go lax.
He hadn’t taken enough time with her, he thought, not with the late nights, early mornings. Now he would.
He flipped open the front hook on her bra, the deeply cut white lace he knew she wore for him. And trailed his fingers over her, light, light, light, while his tongue skimmed over hers, while her hum of pleasure spilled into him.
And he looked as he took that time with the crisp uniform, the black and the white in disarray. With her skin trembling under his mouth and hands, aroused.
As he eased her zipper down, his mouth took her breast, but gently, gently. No rush, no hurry as his fingers slid down to tease, only to tease even as she arched up against them, even as the hum in her throat became broken sighs.
As he traveled down her, sliding those trim pants over her hips, pressing his lips to her belly, he found it unspeakably erotic to be fully dressed while he peeled those layers away from a body that shuddered with need under him.
He took her up, watching her—that face—as he met those needs. She quaked under him, shuddering, just as the first flash of lightning turned the room white, and on one of her broken sighs came his name.
Thunder followed after.
He took her over; she let him. And with surrender she found power. She could take what he gave her until the pleasure of it shook through her like the sudden gusts of wind at the windows.
Her body felt as liquid as the rain, as if she could pour through his hands if he willed it. Under those hands she rose up where the world ran hot and the air thick, then floated down to the impossibly soft and warm.
When he levered up to drag off his shirt, she pressed her hands to the hard, strong wall of his chest. There, though he took his time, such exquisite time, his heart raced.
“That face,” he murmured, and it moved her to hear his voice breathless. “I like how it looks when I’m inside you.”
“I want you inside me.”
Lightning flashed again, illuminating her as she reached for him.
He covered her, and he watched her as he slid, slowly, inside her. And held there as she flew up again, as she tightened around him.
“Miles.”
“Easy.” He murmured it as he took that exquisite time.
While the storm raged, he gave her that time, to build again, to break again.
Then he took her hands in his, took her mouth with his, so linked, joined, they broke together.
* * *
He lay over her, more content than he could remember being in the whole of his life. The storm, already passing, tossed the last drops of rain at the windows. Where lightning had flashed, moonlight returned.
From the library, the clock that had been his great-grandfather’s struck three.
He lifted his head to look down at her, and yes, saw contentment there.
“That face,” he said again, and watched her lips curve.
Chapter Twenty-four
She slept like a rock and woke to the scent of coffee.
“Time to get your ass up.”
After blinking her eyes open, she stared at Miles. He stood beside the bed, fully dressed.
“What time is it?”
“Get-your-ass-up o’clock.” Taking her hand, he pulled her up to sitting.
“Why do women do that?” he wondered, when she dragged the sheet up with her. “I’ve seen you naked. I’ve seen your breasts, which, I’ve observed, are very nicely proportioned to the rest of you.”
“Because,” she said, and left it at that. Then she saw the mug on the nightstand. “You brought me coffee!”
“I brought you something pretending to be coffee. Knock it back, get up. You’ve got thirty minutes.”
“How long have you been up?”
“Long enough to grab a shower, drink actual coffee, get dressed, and make whatever it is you drink in the morning.”
“Okay, I can do all that in thirty, no problem. And I appreciate you bringing me coffee even if you don’t respect it. Where’s Howl?”
“He’s out on patrol. Thirty minutes,” he said as he walked to the door. “I have to make a couple calls.”
In thirty, because she considered it a challenge, she walked downstairs. She wore her hiking shorts and boots, a blue T-shirt, and a red ball cap. She’d hitched on a light backpack holding bug spray, a water bottle, a traveling first aid kit, a bag of trail mix, along with what she considered other essentials.
She found him in the kitchen, downing another cup of coffee.
“All set?”
He turned, looked at her. “What is it about women in boots and shorts? Sunscreen, bug juice?”