Not One Clue_ A Mystery - Lois Greiman [79]
“I’ve got to get home,” he said.
“Now?”
“Five hours ago,” he said, and sitting up, swung his feet to the floor. The scenery from behind was almost as stimulating as the frontal view.
I found the strength to run my hand down his back. He looked over his shoulder, eyes smoldering. “Don’t get me started.”
“You haven’t even started yet?” I asked, and sat on the edge of the counter. My clothes were long gone. All that remained was one shoe. I have no idea how that had survived.
He kissed me, then pulled away and growled. “I have to be at work in three hours.”
“You could sleep here.”
“Maybe if you were dressed in full armor and put a padlock on your chastity belt.”
“Would a bike chain work?” I asked, but he was already headed for the bedroom and his long-lost clothes. His buttocks bunched and gathered on every step. I slipped off the lone sandal and followed By the time I reached the bedroom, he was pulling his jeans over bare skin. The sight did something lascivious to my nether regions.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you could do it again.”
“Do what?” I asked, and dangled the huarache from two fingers.
He stood there staring at me, body tense. Then he swore and kissed me with enough heat to bake a vase. “Come with me,” he said.
“To your house?” I’m not sure why I was surprised. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t been there before, but I had never stayed the night … or the morning … as the situation happened to be.
“You can’t stay here alone.”
I glanced around. As it turns out, I had almost forgotten the burglary. “I have to get this cleaned up.”
He kissed me again. “Tomorrow.”
“It is tomorrow,” I said.
“Don’t be stubborn, McMullen …” he began. The edgy, bossy tone was already sneaking back into his voice, and for a moment I felt my hackles rise, but then I remembered that he was buck naked under his jeans and somehow that made everything better.
“I’ll lock the door and arm the system the second you leave,” I promised.
“You think I’m nuts? I can’t leave you here alone.”
“So you’re staying?” I asked. “Great,” I said, and turning, sauntered away. I could feel his gaze sear my backside. “I’ll get some clean sheets. I’m sure you’ll get plenty of sleep before you have to give one hundred percent to the LAPD.”
He answered with a growl. I turned, all innocence, shoe still dangling from my fingertips. His brows were lowered, and I think I saw his jeans shift a little at the crotch. I raised my gaze slowly to his. A muscle danced in his jaw. I believe he may have been realizing we had just had sex about forty-two times and that forty-three might kill him.
“You’ll lock your door?” he asked.
“Of course.”
“And arm your system.”
“I’m not stupid.”
“If something happens to you I’ll never forgive you.”
I laughed. The world looked surprisingly rosy on zilch sleep and eight hours of mind-blowing sex. “I’ll keep that in mind. Go home.”
“You’ll keep your phone on?”
“The landline and the cell.”
“Is it fully charged?”
“Absolutely.”
“You don’t know that.”
I laughed. Rosy? The world looked absolutely giddy. “I’ll be fine, Rivera. I promise.”
He blew out a hard breath. “Keep Harley—” he began, then glanced around. “Where is Harley?”
The truth hit me in a rush. “Oh shit! I—”
“We forgot him in the car,” he said, but I was already heading toward the door, flooded with guilt.
“You go out like that, McMullen, and I’ll never be able to sleep again.”
I turned, embarrassed for the first time by my lack of clothing. I had honestly forgotten.
“I’ll do a perimeter check around your house,” he said. “Then I’ll bring him in.”
“I can—”
“You get some clothes on before my hard-on becomes permanent.”
“That’s not physically possible,” I said, and glancing to the left, spied a grape that had gone AWOL sometime before midnight. Turning, I bent to retrieve it. I could feel his gaze follow me like a spotlight.
“Jesus,” he said, and turned away. In a moment I was alone.
I managed to stifle my laughter, but my mood was positively euphoric.