The Last Move
Page 63
And then he cupped her face in his hands, angled his head, and kissed her. Her lips parted, and he very expertly slid his tongue into her mouth. Her body warmed to him instantly, and rising on tiptoe she wrapped her arms around his neck. Without breaking the kiss, he banded his arm around her waist and pulled her against him.
When he broke the kiss, she was breathless, excited, and afraid of how much she wanted not just the sex or temporary escape, but him. Her chest was tight with desire, and even if she could have pulled in a breath to speak, the words had now abandoned her.
He studied her face closely as if trying to read her thoughts. He rubbed his finger along her jawline. “You sure about this?”
She drew in a breath, savoring the thrill that shot through her body. “Yes.”
He cupped her face with his hands and carefully traced the scar on her face with his thumb. Her work brought her so close to evil that she’d forgotten a touch could be soft and gentle. She could almost believe in happy endings and good winning out over evil. The reality of life would remind her of life’s bitter truths, but for now, she had the illusion of hope.
He tipped his head forward and lightly kissed her on the lips. Again, he traced the scar on her face with the edge of his thumb. The utter gentleness nearly made her flinch, and if she had not wanted to forget the darkness so badly, she’d have pulled away.
She pressed her palms to his chest and slid her hand under the folds of his jacket so that she could feel his heartbeat. It was steady, even. She rose up on tiptoes and deepened their kiss, promising a passion that went beyond gentle lovemaking.
She wasn’t interested in polite right now. She wanted her body to explode with wanting and desire so intense that the world would vanish for a little while.
Her breasts rubbed against his chest as he banded his arms around her narrow waist. His heartbeat jumped. His erection hardened and pressed against her.
He broke the kiss and laid his hand on her shoulder.
“You’re reacting to the news.”
“That’s part of it.” She kissed him again. “I’ve had too many days like this and too many nights spent alone. Not tonight. Can’t we just enjoy each other? I won’t get weird about it later.”
His brow wrinkled as he studied her, and then shaking his head as if this was all against his better judgment, he kissed her. This time the touch wasn’t gentle or tentative—urgency vibrated as his hands slid from her shoulder to her breast. He palmed the soft flesh, making her nipples harden.
She shrugged off her jacket and let it fall to the floor. “There’s a room down the hallway.”
He glanced down the hallway. “Not the room you lived in as a kid.”
She chuckled. “No. A spare room. Neutral territory.”
He arched a brow. “And you’re sure about your mother not coming home?”
A playfulness she’d not felt in so long bubbled. “When’s the last time you asked that question?”
“Too long ago.” A wry grin twisted his lips. “And I can’t believe at thirty-nine I just asked it.”
She took him by the hand and led him down the hallway to the room at the back. Her mother always kept this room for anyone who happened to visit.
Kate pushed open the door. She didn’t switch on the light, preferring the moonlight that leaked in through the blinds.
Mazur shrugged off his jacket and laid it on a chair across from the bed. Slowly he unknotted his tie, tugging it back and forth until it loosened. She kicked off her shoes, amazed at how much she wanted and anticipated this.
As she reached for the top button on her blouse, he shook his head.
He looked as if he had all the patience in the world. “No. I want to do that.”
Her heart jumped. But she let her hand fall to her side, and she slowly walked toward him. He reached for the top button and slid it free. He went to the second and then the third. The V of the blouse now showed the full swell of her breasts peeking over what was a very plain and practical bra. She never took time for clothes beyond what was utilitarian. Normally it didn’t matter, but now it did. She wanted him to desire her as much as she now wanted him.
He ran his finger along the shoulder strap. “Did the FBI issue this?”
She smiled. “Wait until you see the panties.”
The smile faded from his eyes as fire kindled behind his gaze. “I can’t wait.”
He unfastened all the buttons on her blouse and slid it off her shoulders. It fell to the floor by her feet. He ran a calloused thumb along the bra strap and over the swell of her breasts, then reached for the clasp between her breasts. With a small click it unhooked and she spilled free.
He leaned down and kissed the top of her breasts and then suckled her nipples. Somehow she shrugged out of the bra, and it too fell. She closed her eyes, and for a moment, the darkness filled with the cries of the victims begging her for help. She tried to push back, but the screams grew louder, threatening to override her sexual excitement.
“Open your eyes,” Mazur said. “It’s just you and me here. No one else. No one.”
She found him staring right at her with an intensity that allowed her to believe that it was just the two of them. There was nothing else. Only them. Only now.
Each removed their sidearms. She placed hers on the nightstand on the right side of the bed. Without a word, he laid his on the left nightstand, along with his cuffs and phone.
When he came back around the bed, she reached for the buttons of his shirt, and he let her slowly unfasten each as he caressed her breasts with one hand and skimmed his other along the waistband of her pants.
She fumbled with one button, and it took her a couple of tries to get it free. He grinned as he watched her clumsy attempts.
“Am I making you nervous?” he teased.
“Yes.”
She pulled off his shirt. He then tugged off his undershirt, revealing a small gold crucifix that dangled from a chain. She traced the crucifix with her finger, wondering if he were religious or just too superstitious to ignore it.
He had a lovely chest. Firm. Covered in a mat of dark hair that tapered to his narrow waist.
He reached for his belt buckle, and she reached for hers. He slid off his pants with no hesitation, but she paused.
“Let me see you,” he said as he now stood naked before her.
She drew in a breath and slowly unhooked the waistband of her pants. He brushed her hands aside and slowly slid her pants over her hips.
“Let me. I can’t wait to see the FBI panties. Do they have a logo?”
Heart hammering in her chest, she sucked in a breath. “Of course.”
His brow rose as her pants fell to her ankles. He stared at the white cotton panties and brushed his finger over the front panel. He then traced his finger along the front. “Where’s the logo?”
She moistened her lips. “I might have exaggerated.”
He pushed the slip of cotton to her ankles, and she stepped out and put her hands on his waist.
The teasing had allowed her to momentarily forget the jagged scar that ran along her thigh. It was raised and pink.
He studied it, not seeming to be repulsed, but curious.
“He shot me twice,” she whispered, unwilling to say the other’s name for fear it would shatter all this.
He kissed the scar. “It’s part of you, and I like what I see.”
He guided her toward the bed and jerked back the comforter before pressing her into the crisp white sheets. She scooted to the center, and within seconds he was beside her running his palm over her flat belly and to the nest of curls at her moist center.
When he broke the kiss, she was breathless, excited, and afraid of how much she wanted not just the sex or temporary escape, but him. Her chest was tight with desire, and even if she could have pulled in a breath to speak, the words had now abandoned her.
He studied her face closely as if trying to read her thoughts. He rubbed his finger along her jawline. “You sure about this?”
She drew in a breath, savoring the thrill that shot through her body. “Yes.”
He cupped her face with his hands and carefully traced the scar on her face with his thumb. Her work brought her so close to evil that she’d forgotten a touch could be soft and gentle. She could almost believe in happy endings and good winning out over evil. The reality of life would remind her of life’s bitter truths, but for now, she had the illusion of hope.
He tipped his head forward and lightly kissed her on the lips. Again, he traced the scar on her face with the edge of his thumb. The utter gentleness nearly made her flinch, and if she had not wanted to forget the darkness so badly, she’d have pulled away.
She pressed her palms to his chest and slid her hand under the folds of his jacket so that she could feel his heartbeat. It was steady, even. She rose up on tiptoes and deepened their kiss, promising a passion that went beyond gentle lovemaking.
She wasn’t interested in polite right now. She wanted her body to explode with wanting and desire so intense that the world would vanish for a little while.
Her breasts rubbed against his chest as he banded his arms around her narrow waist. His heartbeat jumped. His erection hardened and pressed against her.
He broke the kiss and laid his hand on her shoulder.
“You’re reacting to the news.”
“That’s part of it.” She kissed him again. “I’ve had too many days like this and too many nights spent alone. Not tonight. Can’t we just enjoy each other? I won’t get weird about it later.”
His brow wrinkled as he studied her, and then shaking his head as if this was all against his better judgment, he kissed her. This time the touch wasn’t gentle or tentative—urgency vibrated as his hands slid from her shoulder to her breast. He palmed the soft flesh, making her nipples harden.
She shrugged off her jacket and let it fall to the floor. “There’s a room down the hallway.”
He glanced down the hallway. “Not the room you lived in as a kid.”
She chuckled. “No. A spare room. Neutral territory.”
He arched a brow. “And you’re sure about your mother not coming home?”
A playfulness she’d not felt in so long bubbled. “When’s the last time you asked that question?”
“Too long ago.” A wry grin twisted his lips. “And I can’t believe at thirty-nine I just asked it.”
She took him by the hand and led him down the hallway to the room at the back. Her mother always kept this room for anyone who happened to visit.
Kate pushed open the door. She didn’t switch on the light, preferring the moonlight that leaked in through the blinds.
Mazur shrugged off his jacket and laid it on a chair across from the bed. Slowly he unknotted his tie, tugging it back and forth until it loosened. She kicked off her shoes, amazed at how much she wanted and anticipated this.
As she reached for the top button on her blouse, he shook his head.
He looked as if he had all the patience in the world. “No. I want to do that.”
Her heart jumped. But she let her hand fall to her side, and she slowly walked toward him. He reached for the top button and slid it free. He went to the second and then the third. The V of the blouse now showed the full swell of her breasts peeking over what was a very plain and practical bra. She never took time for clothes beyond what was utilitarian. Normally it didn’t matter, but now it did. She wanted him to desire her as much as she now wanted him.
He ran his finger along the shoulder strap. “Did the FBI issue this?”
She smiled. “Wait until you see the panties.”
The smile faded from his eyes as fire kindled behind his gaze. “I can’t wait.”
He unfastened all the buttons on her blouse and slid it off her shoulders. It fell to the floor by her feet. He ran a calloused thumb along the bra strap and over the swell of her breasts, then reached for the clasp between her breasts. With a small click it unhooked and she spilled free.
He leaned down and kissed the top of her breasts and then suckled her nipples. Somehow she shrugged out of the bra, and it too fell. She closed her eyes, and for a moment, the darkness filled with the cries of the victims begging her for help. She tried to push back, but the screams grew louder, threatening to override her sexual excitement.
“Open your eyes,” Mazur said. “It’s just you and me here. No one else. No one.”
She found him staring right at her with an intensity that allowed her to believe that it was just the two of them. There was nothing else. Only them. Only now.
Each removed their sidearms. She placed hers on the nightstand on the right side of the bed. Without a word, he laid his on the left nightstand, along with his cuffs and phone.
When he came back around the bed, she reached for the buttons of his shirt, and he let her slowly unfasten each as he caressed her breasts with one hand and skimmed his other along the waistband of her pants.
She fumbled with one button, and it took her a couple of tries to get it free. He grinned as he watched her clumsy attempts.
“Am I making you nervous?” he teased.
“Yes.”
She pulled off his shirt. He then tugged off his undershirt, revealing a small gold crucifix that dangled from a chain. She traced the crucifix with her finger, wondering if he were religious or just too superstitious to ignore it.
He had a lovely chest. Firm. Covered in a mat of dark hair that tapered to his narrow waist.
He reached for his belt buckle, and she reached for hers. He slid off his pants with no hesitation, but she paused.
“Let me see you,” he said as he now stood naked before her.
She drew in a breath and slowly unhooked the waistband of her pants. He brushed her hands aside and slowly slid her pants over her hips.
“Let me. I can’t wait to see the FBI panties. Do they have a logo?”
Heart hammering in her chest, she sucked in a breath. “Of course.”
His brow rose as her pants fell to her ankles. He stared at the white cotton panties and brushed his finger over the front panel. He then traced his finger along the front. “Where’s the logo?”
She moistened her lips. “I might have exaggerated.”
He pushed the slip of cotton to her ankles, and she stepped out and put her hands on his waist.
The teasing had allowed her to momentarily forget the jagged scar that ran along her thigh. It was raised and pink.
He studied it, not seeming to be repulsed, but curious.
“He shot me twice,” she whispered, unwilling to say the other’s name for fear it would shatter all this.
He kissed the scar. “It’s part of you, and I like what I see.”
He guided her toward the bed and jerked back the comforter before pressing her into the crisp white sheets. She scooted to the center, and within seconds he was beside her running his palm over her flat belly and to the nest of curls at her moist center.
