Die For Me: A Novel of the Valentine Killer (For Me #1)(44)
Author: Cynthia Eden

Then she was being lifted into his arms. He was carrying her inside the house, locking the door behind them. The faint light from the lamp illuminated the hallway as he took her back to the bedroom.

Her arms were around his neck. Holding so tightly. She wasn’t letting him go.

Chase away the nightmares.

Feel alive.

Then he was putting her on the bed. “I tried,” Dane told her, his voice deep and dark. “Why the hell can’t I hold back with you?”

“I don’t want you holding back.” She wanted everything he could give.

Every. Single. Thing.

His hands hardened on her. “You need to be careful what you wish for.” He stripped off her shirt. His fingers went to the waistband of her loose shorts.

Then he was discovering that, no, she hadn’t bothered with underwear.

“Katherine.” A rumble of raw lust. He tossed her clothes off the bed.

She started to smile up at him, feeling a heady rush of what might have been happiness in that moment.

He took the gun from the back of his jeans. Put it on the nightstand. “I need you. I sat in that chair…” His words were a heated whisper. “Two hours…thinking about you…”

“You should have been with me.”

“Wondering…” Now his hands were on her thighs. Pushing them apart. “Just how you’d taste…”

He was climbing onto the bed. Pushing between her legs. His gaze was on her sex. Seeing every inch of her.

Then he leaned forward and put his mouth on her.

Katherine wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. His dark hair was a stark contrast to her pale thighs. His lips were on her, his tongue in her.

Her breath caught in her throat. She lifted her hips toward him.

She just felt. His tongue. His lips.

“So good…” Dane muttered, the words rumbling against her and sending a pulse of pleasure through her. “So…damn…good…”

Better than good. Her body was tightening as his finger slid into her sex, his tongue licking across the sensitive center of her need.

She came in an eruption of pleasure that burst through her whole body. Pleasure that shook her, twisted her, hollowed her out.

Katherine realized that her hands had grabbed the sheets. Fisted the fabric. Her breath was gasping out, and her heart pounded in her ears.

Dane was watching her.

“Dane…”

“I like the way you taste.”

She wanted him inside of her.

He still had on his jeans. He needed to ditch those.

Her hands slid down between their bodies. She undid the snap and eased down his zipper. His c**k was big and heavy, and her fingers stroked over him.

“Katherine.” There was such need in his voice.

The same need that she felt.

“I don’t want to wait.” She wanted the pleasure—she wanted him. Right then.

He reached into his back pocket. Pulled out a foil packet, and then he was positioning his aroused length at the entrance to her body.

Death had come too close to her that day. But at that moment, Dane was reminding her about life.

He thrust into her.

Her legs wrapped around his hips. He was still wearing his jeans, and the material rasped against her inner thighs, but she loved the rough friction.

He withdrew, then drove deep, over and over. And he kissed her. Thrusting his tongue into her mouth as he took her body.

Her nails scratched over his back. She didn’t worry about being controlled or restrained or anything. She just felt.

Alive.

Then his mouth was on her neck. Licking. Sucking the skin. Scoring her lightly with his teeth. She arched toward him as the pleasure built within her, spinning her higher and higher.

Then her climax hit, stealing her breath, and the explosion rocked through her—the most powerful release she’d ever felt.

Katherine held tight to him, and in the next instant, he was shuddering above her. His eyes seemed to go blind, and he held her so tightly.

As if he’d never let her go.

Slowly, so slowly, their heartbeats eased back to a more normal rhythm. He eased away from her, and she fought the urge to reach out and hold onto him.

Dane disappeared into the bathroom. She heard the splash of running water.

Her eyes squeezed closed. When the pleasure ended, reality came back far too soon. She would have rather just stayed with Dane longer, curled in his arms, so she could pretend—for just a little while more—that death didn’t stalk her.

Then the bed dipped beneath his weight. Her eyes flew open in surprise. “Dane—”

“Shh….let me take care of you.” A warm cloth slid over her sensitive skin. She gasped at the contact, soothing and arousing at the same time.

Was it wrong to already want him again?

She felt like she needed, wanted too much with him. As if her feelings were out of control.

Maybe they were.

He started to rise. She grabbed his hand. “Stay.” She wasn’t sure just how much time they had left. Not with Valentine out there.

Watching.

Always watching.

She didn’t want to be alone in the dark.

He slid back into the bed. Curled his arms around her. Pulled Katherine back against his racing heart.

She closed her eyes and hoped that—this time—she wouldn’t dream of blood and death. Of a man who’d said he loved her even as he lifted a knife and prepared to take her life.

“You didn’t have to bring me home,” Evelyn said quietly as the detective walked her to her door. “I could have taken a taxi.”

“The NOPD wanted to make sure you arrived safely.” His voice was carefully modulated to show no emotion.

“The NOPD just wanted me away from the station.” She rubbed her temples. She was so bone-tired then. Her shoulders slumped and she reached for the doorknob.

Only her door was unlocked.

Tension snaked through her suddenly stiff body.

“Dr. Knight?”

She glanced back at Detective Turner. “I locked my door.” She always locked her door. Her heart beat faster.

The detective pulled his gun even as he pushed her behind him. Evelyn swallowed, and the image of Trent’s sheet-covered body drifted through her mind. She reached out for the detective, moving on instinct, and her fingers curled around his shoulder.

“Stay behind me,” he ordered.

She nodded, but he didn’t see the move.

Then the detective slipped into her house. It was dark inside, quiet, and the thick carpeting muted the sound of their footsteps. The detective was methodical, searching every room, every closet, but no one was there. Nothing was disturbed.