If You Know Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense (15 page)

Hell—even if she’d
planned
to drive him nuts, it wouldn’t matter. Any plans she might have tried to make, they would all fall apart—plans required thought, further planning … execution …

She wasn’t able to think enough to do that, not when he was touching her, not while he had those long-fingered, agile hands gliding over her body, stripping her clothes away. And not with his mouth cruising southward down her neck and lower.

As he nibbled his way along the slope of one breast, Nia curled an arm around his shoulders, struggling just to maintain her balance. The other hand, she slid up,
then down one of his arms, tracing the hollows and swells, learning the feel of his skin, his muscles. Long, rangy, and lean—so nice.

When he went to his knees in front of her, she just about went to hers—hard to think, hard to breathe—could barely manage to keep her eyes open as he pressed his mouth to her pubic bone, his breath stirring the curls between her legs.

The first light brush of his tongue against her clit had her shuddering.

The second touch had her groaning and she braced both hands against his shoulders, tried to stand despite the fact that her legs seemed to have turned to water.

Then he curled his tongue around her clit and Nia could have sworn she saw lights exploding. Her breath caught in her lungs, the muscles in her body went rigid. Nothing, absolutely
nothing
seemed to exist except for the way that man was teasing her closer and closer to climax, using his tongue in a way that was nothing short of diabolical.

One hand stroked up her calf, pausing just long enough to nudge her legs farther apart and she wobbled, almost fell, so focused on his mouth and what he was doing. Law steadied her with his free hand, muttered something against her flesh, but she didn’t know what, nor did she care, holy hell, that mouth …

Then it wasn’t just his mouth—he pushed two fingers inside her and twisted his wrist, screwed them in, out …

Nia sobbed out his name and all but collapsed.

Law caught her, turned and eased her to the floor, barely breaking his rhythm. He tongued her clit, sucked it into his mouth and pulled oh, so carefully, before releasing it. And still, he pumped two wicked, clever fingers in—out—

“Don’t stop,” she begged, fisting her hands in his hair, desperate, so focused, so fixed on it—so close, so close.

“Not on my life,” he muttered. Another stroke of his fingers, another light, gentle tug with his teeth.

Nia shattered, shuddering, shaking, sobbing his name as she came. The orgasm wrenched through her, drawing tighter, tighter …

And then Law was gone.

Holy fuck—

Law shoved back on his heels, his head full of the taste of her, the feel of her, the sight. With a shaking hand, he fumbled for the rubbers she’d brought with her. It took two tries to tear the damn thing off the strip, another two tries before he managed to get it open.

Her eyes, golden and blistering hot, stared up at him.

Her hips were rocking—frenzied, small movements, like she still was trying to feel his fingers inside her.

Not enough—
he
needed to be inside her. All of him.

His fingers didn’t want to work and the damn rubber didn’t want to cooperate and by the time he had it rolled down over his aching flesh, the fog in Nia’s eyes had cleared. She had one elbow behind her like she was about to sit up.

He came over her, catching her face in his hands. She opened for him and he shuddered as her tongue came out, stroked over his, sucking it into her mouth. Her hands raced down his back, caught his hips, tugged him close.

That was all the invitation he needed.

Hardly able to breathe for want of her, he drove inside, his groan mingling with her cry.

She was tight, clenching down around him, squeezing him, milking him, drawing him deeper and deeper … “Oh, hell, yeah,” he muttered against her lips. “You feel so damn good.”

Nia smiled against his lips. “You feel pretty damn good yourself.” Bringing one leg up, she arched her hips and groaned.

He echoed the sound as she clenched tighter around him, the silken, snug walls of her pussy gripping him through the thin shield of latex. Bracing his weight on his elbows, he rocked against her, slow … easy—even though every last thing inside him screamed,
Harder … faster …

Months of dreaming of this, damn it, it was going to last longer than a hundred and twenty seconds.

Then Nia hooked her leg over his hip and slid a palm to grip down his back, her hand on his ass, her nails biting into his skin. She arched up, meeting each thrust, moving faster, demanding, driving him—

Tearing his mouth away, he snarled, “Fuck.”

He shoved upright—distance, needed distance, needed to get away from her mouth, needed to slow down and think … But now, his position drove him even deeper and he stared down at her as she whimpered, her eyes wide, almost glassy. A broken plea on her lips.

Hell …

Shifting his weight, he reached between them, circled his thumb over her clit, teeth clenched as she tightened around him—when she came, he bit down on the inside of his cheek and hoped the pain might clear his head, because damn it, he was dying.

Her breathing ragged, her body went lax under his. “We’re not done,” he rasped, fisting a hand in her dark, short hair. Law greedily took her mouth as he started to ride her again—deep, hard. So damned hungry, so damned hungry …

If she’d had the breath, she might have told him to give her a minute.

But even if she
had
had the breath? He would have stolen it away again.

Even as she was drifting back down, Law had his mouth on hers, one of those deep, demanding kisses that
drove every sane, logical thought from her brain. And he was moving, his body hard and hungry and hot, his cock thrusting deep. If that wasn’t enough to drive her to insanity, he had his hand between them, his thumb stroking over her clit, toying with it, stroking in fast, hard circles and every damn time she thought she’d get her breath, he stole it back away.

Dying.

Nia was dying—couldn’t live this long without breathing, take this kind of pleasure and still survive.

She knew it.

Then his mouth was gone, stroking along her cheek, down her neck. His teeth raked along her skin and she shuddered, shivered. “Hell, Nia,” he muttered. “What are you doing to me? What the hell …”

He bit her neck, licked the small hurt, kissed it, repeating that over and over as he moved down her neck, along her collarbone down to her breast. By the time he reached her nipple, she was desperate, so desperate to have him kissing her there.

But he didn’t.

Instead he reversed his path, kissing back up the way he came, and starting that same trail down her left side.

She groaned as his chin nudged her nipple this time and she fisted a hand in his hair. “Stop teasing,” she muttered.

“You don’t like teasing?” he whispered, his breath blowing a warm puff of air along her skin.

“Law …”

He chuckled … then caught her breast in his hand, plumped it, stroking his thumb over the nipple.

That was … nice—but not enough.

Tugging him closer, she whimpered and arched up, pressed tight—damn it, she was dying, her nipples burning hot points and if he didn’t …

Then he did, his mouth closing around one aching tip. Nia slammed her head back against the floor as the pleasure blistered through her head, molten hot, thick and mind-blowing.

Mind-shattering
 …

Another climax loomed—massively powerful, too massive. Instinctively, she tried to pull back, without even realizing.

“No,” Law muttered, slanting his mouth over hers, his voice gruff, kisses hungry. “Stay with me …”

Stay with me …
Self-preservation insisted she pull back. But she couldn’t—she just couldn’t. Greedy, desperate for him, she clutched him close, opened for each bruising, hungry kiss. Reveled in each deep, driving thrust.

Stay with me …
Nia was starting to realize it would take a hell of a lot to pull her away.

He groaned out her name, a harsh, ragged growl. Deep inside, she felt his cock jerk and swell, felt him throb and rasp over already swollen and sensitive tissues.

It was too much—way too much. Tearing her mouth away from his, she sank her teeth into his shoulder, shuddering as her orgasm slammed into her.

He braced his free arm at her shoulders, held her steady—held her together because she thought she might be flying apart.

… hell
.

Coherent thought escaped him.

The ability to
move
completely evaded him.

He lay sprawled over Nia, dimly aware that he
needed
to move, but unable to manage it. She laid a hand up his side, let it linger there for just a second before it fell limply to the side.

He might have smiled at the sound of it hitting the
floor, but that was kind of how he felt. Boneless. Drained.

And he needed to
move
 …

Groaning, he stiffened his arms and managed to roll away, ending up flat on his back next to her. In the middle of his foyer. He stared up at the dark ironwork of his light fixture, his mind slowly trying to come back to life.

He had just had the best sex of his life with a woman he had met all of five times. Including today. On the floor of his foyer.

Next to him, Nia snickered.

Lifting his head took something of an effort, but he managed. Barely. Cocking a brow, he waited.

She rolled onto her side and snuggled up against him, grinning at him. Her golden eyes were mischievous, full of smug, female satisfaction. “You know, I’d planned on jumping you when I got here, but I thought maybe we could make it to your bedroom,” she said, resting her chin on his chest. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Law smiled. “I don’t think you were on your own in this.” He grimaced and eased away, slowly sitting up and surveying the floor. His jeans were lying by the door, his boxers a few inches away. He didn’t even remember taking them off.

Her clothes were everywhere—her jeans in a heap by the stairs, her shirt by the arched opening to the living room, her bra and panties somewhere in the middle. Law scooped up the lacy tangle of her underwear, eyeing it. “I think we did some damage here,” he mused.

“We?” She sat up and snagged the panties from him, eyeing the torn lace and silk. “I think I was busy tearing your clothes off, not mine. You tore them, pal.”

He thought back, trying to remember just when he’d peeled that red lace and silk away from her—peeled, torn, whatever. “Good point. Okay, I tore them. Maybe I owe you a new pair.”

“Maybe?” She rested her chin on her knee, dropping the torn lace on the floor. “Maybe you do.” She snickered again as she looked around the foyer. “The floor. I can’t believe I jumped you on the floor.”

Just staring at her was enough to make his mouth go dry, he thought. And his heart ache, in the weirdest damn way. “It was a mutual jumping, I think. Besides, unless you’re in a rush, we can always aim for the bedroom.” He scrubbed his hands over his face, realized he could smell her on him—realized he really liked it, too.

A lot.

“Hmmm. No rush. You know, I haven’t done anything that crazy in years.” She came to her knees and settled behind him, her arms draped around him. The soft, warm weight of her breasts pressed against his back was enough to have his dick twitching in interest already.

Down, boy
, he thought ruefully. Going at it on the floor again was
not
what he needed to do. Finesse—some finesse here. He knew the meaning of the word, thought he could manage it. Under normal circumstances, he usually did just fine, too.

Glancing back at her, he brushed a hand down her arm. “Have to admit, I haven’t either.” Her mouth drew him and before he realized it, he was kissing her, bringing his hand up and holding the back of her head, in case she tried to pull away.

Not that she did.

Hell.

He could get used to this. Way too used to this.

Easing back, he made himself pull away, forced himself to stand, put some distance between them. Although he didn’t feel the levity at all, he said, “I don’t know about you, but I could stand a shower.”

Her lashes low over her eyes, she stretched. Then she
stood and smiled at him, closing the distance between them and stroking a finger down the front of his chest.

“Is that an invitation, Reilly?”

“Sounded that way to me.” His heart stuttered as she pressed against him and the flicker of interest became a slow, inexorable rise, one he couldn’t have fought for anything. “You’re going to be trouble, Nia Hollister,” he muttered. “All sorts of it, I can tell.”

“I’ve always been trouble.”

He came through the woods.

Before he made plans, before he considered what plans he might need to make, he needed to know
why
she was here.

After all, Nia Hollister’s visit to town could be mundane.

He didn’t believe that, though. Visits to the sheriff, nosing around through public records. No. It wasn’t mundane. But he couldn’t decide how to handle it until he
knew
.

There was a reason, and he needed to know what it was, needed to know more about her. He already knew a disturbing amount—enough to know that if she just disappeared, it would be noticed.

She wasn’t just a photojournalist—fancy name for a photographer, he figured. She was actually fairly famous in her field. Had enough of a name that she’d be missed. People would notice. He couldn’t risk that.

If this was a bigger city, he could think she was here to take pictures. If she was a reporter, he could almost imagine she was here to do some sort of story about her cousin’s death. And still, that wasn’t an idea he could discard. Definitely not. A story about that wouldn’t be good. Too much focus on it would be … unpleasant. For him to allow it would be unwise.

And that was why he was proceeding with caution, because he wasn’t going to do anything that would draw attention back to things
now
.

Photojournalists weren’t exactly the biggest names out there from what he could tell, but she
was
a name—a known one.