Page 41 of Thankless in Death

“Even better. I just want to stop off, get into work clothes.”

He smiled to himself. “We’ll just detour to the bedroom first then. I wouldn’t mind getting out of this suit.”

EVE TOED OFF HER SHOES AS SOON AS SHE stepped into the bedroom. She considered bare feet an indulgence reserved for private areas of home or the beach.

“Maybe just setting up a board here, fresh, will shake something loose.”

“Could be.”

She pulled off her sweater while Roarke shed his jacket and tie.

“According to the time line, he stowed the two suitcases after he left the shuttle station. The hotel transpo dropped him there—following his cover he was traveling to Miami. Then he doubled back, but I haven’t been able to track down his transpo from the station. Maybe he stayed on foot, but it’s more likely he caught a cab or bus.”

“Might he have secured the suitcases at the station, with the plan to go back after he collected the money, then take a shuttle to some other destination?”

“It doesn’t fly for me. He had all the valuables to sell, and we know he started that process after the banking. So he doubled back, had another hole to crawl into, stowed the suitcases there while he hit the banks so he didn’t have to drag them around. I’d like his transportation method back to the banks, just to have a clearer picture.”

She wriggled out of the pants and, standing in her underwear, started to open a drawer for a T-shirt and jeans.

“Bus is smarter, but—”

He cut her off by spinning her around, yanking her in, and taking her mouth. Hot, lusty, possessive, and lightly edged with humor.

When she managed to grab a breath, she attempted a quick shove. “Hey.”

He just took her mouth again, spun her again—twice and toward the bed. She considered putting up a fight, for form’s sake, but just wriggled back enough to scowl at him. “I’m working.”

“Not yet, and you’re mostly naked. Such a fine look on you, one of my favorites.”

“Then why is that closet full of clothes?”

“Because being an understanding sort, I appreciate your insistence on being fully dressed in public.”

He gripped her hips, boosted her up so he could carry her onto the platform where the bed spread like a blue lagoon. Then he tipped so they fell back on it with her pinned under him.

“Just because we postponed soufflé doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy a bite of dessert now.”

To prove it, he closed his teeth over her jaw.

“And you’re what I’ve a taste for.”

“Sex, sex, sex.”

“If you insist.”

His mouth claimed hers again, muffling the laugh she’d tried to hold back. What the hell, she thought. He was mostly naked, too. She grabbed his exceptional ass, gave it a hard squeeze. “You better make it good.”

“I’m always up for a challenge.”

“You’re always up.” And to prove that, she slid her hands around, between them, and found him. The next hard squeeze brought on a moan, had him shifting his teeth to her throat.

How quickly he could make her need, each time, every time. No matter how familiar, this sweep of feelings always struck as new. And overwhelming.

The weight of his body, the shape of it, the demands of his clever mouth and skilled hands never failed to make her want and want, and revel in knowing she could have.

She let the hunger, and the greed with it, the whippy storm of sensations—all the sudden heat, the wonderful aches-—invade. She let them conquer, and gathering them turned them back to him.

She gave and she took, everything he needed to have, everything he wanted to give in return. Wrapped around him, possessing as he possessed, she met every demand, made her own.