Hold on to Me (19 page)

With difficulty, she looked away, forcing herself to focus on the artifacts he’d arranged on the table. He thumped the credit card record. “Bet that fast-food place had a security camera, too. We should check on that tomorrow. We could go down Tuesday morning to view their tapes. I’d like to see who used her credit card in Tallahassee.”

“Speaking of tapes, for someone who was so eager to get the one from the Tank and Tummy…”

A sheepish expression flashed over his face. “I got distracted.”

He pushed the videotape into the VCR and sank down behind her on the floor, close enough to warm her with his body heat. Her lungs decided to stop working, her entire body flushed with an awareness of him. He fast-forwarded through the afternoon hours, utilizing the numbers in the corner as a guide. As they neared seven o’clock, he returned to normal play.

Caitlin listened to his quiet breathing, reveled in his warmth at her back. She could hold on to these few precious moments, these memories to dwell on later.

On the screen, two familiar figures walked into the store. “That’s you and Schaefer.”

He coughed. “Yeah. I’m coming off duty; he’s coming on.”

Another pair of men walked through the doors. Cookie slapped Tick on the back. “Who’s the other guy?”

“Chris Parker. Our K-9 officer. They were coming back from a training exercise over in Lowndes County.”

On the television Schaefer paid for his purchases and left. Tick leaned a hip against the counter, smiling at the busty blonde working the register. Cookie and Parker ambled out.

Caitlin elbowed Tick in the ribs. “You’re flirting with her.”

He winced. “I’m having a conversation with her.”

“With her chest. I’ll give her this, she had a great plastic surgeon. I guess that’s Shanna.”

“Yeah. That’s Shanna.”

“God, Tick, you’ve been in there nearly ten minutes. You must really like this girl.”

“You’re going to give me a fit, aren’t you?”

“At every opportunity. I hate to tell you this, Calvert, but either she’s not interested or she’s really good at playing hard to get.”

“Cait, cut it out, would you?”

She grabbed for the remote. “Run it back. Were you flexing a muscle at her?”

He held it out of reach. “No, I wasn’t. Would you let this go?”

Twisting, she leaned across his chest, fingernails digging lightly into his side. He rotated sideways, chuckling, and dropped the remote on the table. With an agile movement, he pushed her back on the floor, pinning her hands by her head.

“Shanna’s a nice girl, a pretty girl, but she isn’t
you
.” He shook his head, all playfulness gone. “I’ve been dating, a lot, but that’s all. Dating. I was looking for a way to forget you. It didn’t work. Now, will you quit?”

His weight pressing into her aroused old memories and intensified the desire throbbing to life low in her stomach. She stared up at him, wanting his mouth on hers. The knowledge she could get away if she really wanted hung between them and mingled with the blatant craving in his gaze. She swallowed and held still, absorbing the feel of him against her.

“Hey, wait—that’s her.” He jerked to a sitting position, grabbed the remote and rewound the film. “My God.”

Caitlin straightened to sit beside him. On the screen, Kimberly Johnson held out a map for his inspection. He traced a route with his finger, grinning at her. A couple of minutes later, the young woman signed her credit card receipt and left.

He stared, his jaw slack. “I talked to her. That’s why she seemed so familiar. Damn it, Cait, I talked to her.”

“Rewind it again.” She stared at the images, noting Kimberly’s clothing, her purse, her purchases. She watched Tick punctuating his directions with his hands. Kimberly smiled, thanking him. Picked up her receipt. Walked out the door.

And within hours, minutes maybe, became the victim of a brutal murder.

Caitlin shivered. Seconds. It only took seconds for the presence of a stranger to forever change a life. Or take one.

Tick hunched over, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. “I talked to her. I was one of the last people to see her alive. And I don’t remember.”

The desire to comfort him was strong. She smoothed her hand over his back. “Don’t—”

He lifted his head, staring at the screen with haunted eyes. “I don’t remember what I said to her. Hell, that poster was hanging outside my office, and I didn’t even recognize her.”

“Stop. You didn’t know, and there’s nothing you could have done. The only thing you can do now is—”

“Find the son of a bitch so the state can put a needle in his arm.” Suppressed rage trembled in his voice.

“Tick, don’t. It’s not your fault.”

A shudder ran through him and he caught her hand in his, keeping her fingers pressed to his face. “I want this guy, Cait. I want him bad.”

He gestured at the television with his free hand, Kimberly Johnson frozen there in the moments before she disappeared. “Look at her. She has no idea what’s waiting for her. Neither did Sharon when she got out of her car. Then Vontressa and Amy. The son of a bitch has destroyed Miss Lauree’s life. Eloise Gillabeaux has taken to her bed because the grief is too much. I want him locked away.”

His light stubble abraded her fingers. The heat of his skin traveled along her nerves, sending delicious shivers through her. “I know. We’ll get him.”

Their gazes met, clung, the anger in his shifting to a different type of heat. He smiled, a wry twist of his lips, and he turned his mouth into her palm. “I want you worse. Don’t go back to the hotel tonight.”

You can have this. Live for the moment, take this opportunity. You may not get another.
“Are you sure?”

A slow nod moved his skin against hers again. “But I want it to be about us, not about comfort. I need it to mean something.”

“I can’t make you any promises, Tick.” Her heart swelled with all the promises she yearned to make, the promises she craved from him.

“I’m not asking for any.” He leaned closer. “Just tell me you want me.”

Rising to kneel before him, she cupped his face in both hands and met his fiery dark gaze without hesitation.

“I want this. I want
you
.” Her long, slow smile matched the burn between her thighs. She’d take these moments while she could, figure out how to deal with the rest later. “Take me to bed, sweet thing, and I promise you won’t be sorry.”

Her desire-shadowed gaze lay on him like a touch and stoked his need higher. Eyes locked on his, she settled her hands on his shoulders and eased forward, her thighs straddling his. “What do you want?”

He smiled at the naughty whisper and gripped her waist, the cotton of her blouse soft against his palms. “I’ve got everything I want right here.”

From beneath her lashes, she flicked a glance at him. She trailed a slender finger down his chest, leaving unbearable excitement in its path. Her fingernail traced a circle around his navel, the muscles in his gut jumping under the soft touch, his erection growing to press against his fly with excruciating intensity. The maddening finger slid down to skim along his waistband.

She lifted her other hand to release her hair. She shook the sleek mass back and he reached up, itching to bury his hands in it. She caught his wrists, her thighs pressing harder into his.

“You must have some fantasies, Calvert.” She leaned toward him, her blouse gapping to offer him a glimpse of the sheer bra he’d dreamed of all day. She nuzzled his throat, almost purring. “Something that pushes your buttons.” Her husky voice, a dark whisper, shivered over his ear. Thumbs caressed his wrists, but continued to hold his hands at his sides. “Whatever turns you on.”

Everything she did turned him on. She’d been every one of his fantasies since he’d taken her to his bed. Or hell, if he was really honest, since that first week at Quantico, during a course on takedown methods, when she’d knocked him on his ass.

“Cait—”

“Or maybe you want me to figure it out.”

Lean thigh muscles flexed against his legs and she pushed at his chest, a light shove, until he lay flat, reclining on his elbows. He laughed, the sound emerging rusty and strangled. “We’ve been here before, Falconetti.”

“No.” She curled her fingers into his waistband, and his stomach contracted. “Definitely not here, Calvert.”

Knuckles brushing his abdomen, she popped free the metal button, and his breath stopped. The slow trace of her lowering his zipper felt like a caress. Desperate to touch her, he reached for her, intending to drag her down for a kiss.

She caught his hands. “No. You’re not touching yet.”

“Cait.” The frustrated sound was close to a strangled plea and he swallowed hard. He caught her teasing smile before her hair fell forward to shield her face. How the hell did she think he’d keep his hands from her? He was hard, straining and ready now, and she’d barely touched him.

She pushed his arms above his head again. Stretching forward, she nipped his shoulder, her breasts rubbing against his chest.

“Damn it, Cait, you’re killing me.” The words were wrung from him on a gasp when she ran her nails down his torso in a light rake, stopping just short of his open fly.

He grasped her waist and found his wrists captured in a firm grip. She held him down this time, leaning over him, her body cupping him intimately. She moved in a slow, sinuous circle against his straining erection, her low laugh doing incredible things to his nerves. “I don’t have to get out the cuffs, do I, Calvert?”

The scary thing was he’d let her. He’d let her do anything she wanted to him and enjoy every minute of it. He was hers.

Great. He was already a goner.

“Whatever you want, Falconetti.”

“Giving me control can be a dangerous thing,” she murmured against his ear. Easing his hands above his head once more, she rotated her hips into his, and he ground his teeth, aching to be inside her.

“And I told you, I don’t have a problem relinquishing control. Sometimes it can be damned interesting.”

Releasing him, she kissed him, a slow, teasing caress. “Let’s find out how interesting.”

Metal clinked before the cold circle closed around his right wrist. He jerked, and the other cuff rasped shut on his left wrist. His fingers brushed the heavy wood post on his coffee table, and surprised, he stared into green eyes near black with passion and mischief. She rested her hands on the floor, either side of his torso, a smile quirking at her mouth, and excitement burned in his gut.

Interesting wasn’t the word.

She didn’t speak, but blazed a trail of kisses down his abdomen. Her fingers curled in his waistband again and she tugged downward, jeans and boxer briefs sliding over his hips. At the rush of cool air, his dick twitched, and he caught another glimpse of her wayward smile. She pulled the garments free of his body and tossed them aside.

Tracing a design on the inside of his thigh, she tilted her head. “You said something about giving me control?”

Considering he was the one naked, incredibly aroused and handcuffed, he figured she already had it. “It’s…interesting.”

Her fingertip moved up his leg, eased over his scrotum in a featherweight caress. Uncontrollably, his back arched, his eyes slid closed. “God, precious.”

She skimmed the finger along the length of his erection, the light touch shivering through him, sending sparks to every nerve.

The lush wetness of her mouth closed around him. He bowed again, his stomach clenching, the cuff chain rattling against the table leg.

“Holy hell,” he gasped, his breathing coming in uneven bursts. More than anything, he wanted to touch her, the smoothness of her skin under his hands, and he could do nothing but give himself over to the pure sin of her mouth.

She had him completely at her mercy.

The smooth motion of her tongue flicking against him, the massaging warmth of her fingers at his balls—all coalesced into sheer sensation, swirling and flooding from his groin, into his belly, out through his blood stream. Nothing existed but the pull of her lips, the brush of her hair against his stomach. Pressure built, a fiery tingle that burst into a full-fledged inferno, threatening to burn him alive.

“Cait,” he groaned, while he could still speak, still think. “It’s…been a long time. I’m not…gonna last.”

That was her intent, he gathered with the last part of his brain capable of coherence. She didn’t slow, and if anything, tightened the incredible paradise around him, taking him deeper. The inferno burned higher, melting away everything, until nothing remained but the sensation, until he came with a ferocity that left him shattered and winded.

Heart thudding against his ribs with a painful rhythm, he struggled to catch his breath. His arms ached, and aftershocks ran through his body, along his nerve endings. He opened his eyes to find her sitting against the coffee table, fully clothed, hair tousled, a satisfied smirk on her beautiful, talented mouth. She lifted his beer bottle and swallowed.

The edge was off his desire, but the need to touch her, to bury himself inside her burned as strong as ever. He shifted his elbows, rattling the cuff chain. “Take ’em off.”

She lifted one elegant eyebrow. “No.”

Damn, she had layers he’d never suspected existed, and oh, hell, he liked them. “You know, sooner or later you have to let me go.”

And payback’s a bitch.

The unspoken promise of sweet retaliation lay between them and her smile widened. “I can handle it.”

She lifted the beer again and he shifted under her steady gaze. Head tilted, she set the beer aside. “Are you sorry?”

“Hell, no.”

She smiled again, fingers moving to the buttons on her blouse. In slow motion, she popped each one free and shrugged out of the fine fabric. Clearly outlined, hardened nipples pressed against the sheer lace of her bra. She wriggled out of her jeans, leaving only the tiny thong he’d chosen that morning.

His gaze fell on the scars, and he frowned, a little of the playfulness fading. “Precious—”

She kissed him, swallowing the endearment, and he tasted the sharp mix of beer and his own come, blended with the dark sweetness of her mouth. Her tongue danced against his, withdrew, and she pulled away, licking and nipping her way down his throat with open-mouthed kisses. Unbelievably, desire rushed through him again, as strong and sure as before. She nuzzled his pecs, hands stroking down his ribcage to his waist, legs tangling with his.

His renewing erection pressed into her, the lacy fabric of her thong an exquisite torture to his sensitized skin. Velvety and damp, she rocked into him, and the reality shook him to the core. She was as wet for him as he was hard for her. He wanted to make her wetter, drive her as crazy as she did him, until she was writhing and moaning his name.

She traced the line of his ribs with her mouth and he shifted under her, tugging against the handcuffs again. “Cait, come on. I want to touch you.”

With a feline stretch, she aligned herself along him, eyes locked with his. She fingered the line of his jaw. “You relinquished control, Calvert. That means we play by my rules.”

“Uncuff me and I’ll make it worth your while.” He lifted his head the inch or so necessary to bring their lips together, but she pulled back, an impish light in her eyes. Frustration curled through him, but didn’t temper the desire.

She shifted to slide a hand between them and swept a caress down the length of his hard-on, fisting him in a slow up-and-down motion. “Oh, it’ll be worth my while regardless.”

He struggled to catch his breath. “Turn me loose and we can take this in the bedroom.”

Her fingers fanned over his balls. “I keep you locked up, and I can take you right here.”

“Protection.” Holy hell, she made it hard to think. “Kitchen, top drawer by the door.”

“Be right back.” She brushed a kiss against his stomach and eased away. Moments later she returned with the multicolored package, which she dropped on his abdomen. At the tiny impact, he jerked, every nerve ending sensitized beyond belief. “Calvert, do I want to know why you keep a box of condoms in your kitchen?”

“Bought ’em this morning when I went for your stuff. Thought we might need them.”

With a twist of her bra’s front clasp, the garment fell away, the sight of her taking his breath again. He curled his hands into fists, fingertips tingling with need. She eased the thong down and tossed it aside.

A wicked smile played around her mouth as she reached for the small box. “Let’s see what’s in here.”

A shower of cellophane packets rained down, and she laughed, the dark husky sound shivering over him.

She shook her head, hair shifting against her shoulders, and ripped the package open, withdrawing a scrap of bright pink latex. With exquisite slowness, she unrolled the condom on his length, and Tick gritted his teeth, hips bucking. She straddled his thighs and leaned forward, her mouth a whisper away from his.

“I’m going to take you,” she murmured and flicked her tongue against his lips. He groaned. She lifted away, poising over him, and anticipation dried his mouth. He ached to be inside her, to have her take him, right here, as she’d promised, fast, slow, however she wanted, as long as it was soon.

God, he was whipped.

Her gaze tangled with his. “Are you sorry, Calvert?”

“Cait…”

“I wouldn’t want you to have any doubts.” She leaned forward, breasts pressed to his chest. “I want you to be very, very sure.”

If he was any more sure, he’d die. “No doubts, Falconetti.”

“Positive?” She lowered her hips, hot wetness just taking the tip of him. Fire erupted in his gut.

He thrust upward, sheathing himself in her. She gasped, the passion-filled noise vibrating through him. He laughed, the guttural sound torn from his throat. “Absolutely.”

“Good.” She settled more firmly against him, her body a blazing, tight glove around him. She lifted and fell, posting slowly. “Because if you give me some choir-boy apology later, I’ll kick your ass.”

“You’re kicking it now.” He pushed the words through clenched teeth. The smooth movement of her body on his was reminiscent of what her mouth had done to him earlier, and the unbearable tension coiled in his gut again.

She pushed harder against him, and he grimaced at the pleasure bordering on pain. Her unbound breasts, nipples hard, swayed above him, and he wrapped his hands around the table leg, dying to touch her. The enforced denial added an edge to the desire. She shook her hair back, eyes sliding closed. Her lips pursed, parted, and he tightened his fists again.

He needed to touch her, needed more than simply being able to thrust inside her.

He needed her eyes open, so he could watch the pleasure darken them when she came.

He needed more.

A slight bend of his knees allowed him to drive further into her as she ground down on him, and a moan slipped past her lips.

He chuckled deep in his throat. “Are you sorry, Falconetti?”

Shaking her head, she bit her lip.

His fingers slipped on the slick, varnished wood, the metal bracelets clinking. He drank in every nuance of her expression, seeking some way to forge the connection he wanted. She liked his voice, liked having him whisper to her while he made love to her. He remembered that from those nights before Mississippi.