Beyond Limits (22 page)

He stepped closer. “I got you in trouble with your boss, didn’t I?”

She folded her arms. He took another step until he was inches away, the handcuffs still dangling from his fingers. He held them up.

“Go ahead. Cuff me.”

She calmly took the handcuffs and just as calmly placed them on the dresser beside her firearm, but she couldn’t keep her cheeks from flushing as she glared up at him.

He moved closer. She flinched as he rested his hand at her hip where her gun had been, and his thumb seemed to burn right through the fabric as he traced her hip bone.

“Come on.” His voice was low. “What are you afraid of?”

“I know what you’re doing. You’re egging me on, and I’m
not
afraid of you, so get that through your thick head.”

He eased closer, close enough that his thighs brushed hers, close enough that the solid mass of his chest was right in front of her.

“Know what, Liz?” He dipped his head down, and his breath tickled her temple. “I think you’re lying.”

H
is mouth crushed against hers, hot and demanding. He tasted like the other night—like bourbon—and she knew he’d been out drinking with a stripper while she’d been driving around the city searching for him. Knowing it should have made her want to smack him, but her hands were too busy sliding over his shoulders and tangling in his hair. This was a bad idea. She knew it, but she couldn’t push him away. In fact, she was pulling him closer.

After hours of chaos and frustration, he was actually
here
. She should follow orders and take him into the office for paperwork and interviews, but she wasn’t taking him anywhere. She wanted him alone. She wanted him in her bed, under her, with his mouth all over her and his hands everywhere and his three-day beard scraping her skin. He changed the angle of his kiss and went after her with a fierceness that shocked her and thrilled her all at once.

God, he could
kiss
. He kissed with the same power and confidence that had attracted her from the beginning. No hesitation, just a brutal onslaught against all of her senses.

She tugged his T-shirt from his jeans and slid her hands under the cotton to feel the warm hardness of his skin. His tongue tangled with hers, challenging her on yet another level as his body pinned her against the dresser.

She couldn’t believe she was kissing him like this after so many months of yearning and wondering. After so many months of telling herself she was going to steer clear, stay away, protect herself from the heartache that would inevitably follow this stupid, stupid decision.

But it didn’t feel stupid right now—in fact, it felt unbelievably good to have his wide shoulders under her hands and his body pressed against her. She combed her fingers up into his hair and rocked her hips against him, and the groan deep in his chest gave her a rush of adrenaline. Was she really doing this? Right in this room, barely a stone’s throw away from all the people she worked with? She dug her nails into his scalp and kissed him with a vengeance that pushed the doubts and logic out of her mind.

His knuckles brushed against her stomach as he worked the button of her pants free, and she heard the soft hiss of the zipper. She pulled back, and their gazes locked as her slacks slid to the floor. Her legs felt bare and exposed. The hot intensity in his eyes made her stomach flutter and made her think again about what she was doing, but before she could voice any objections, his hands closed around her waist, and he lifted her onto the dresser as if she weighed nothing. He clutched the back of her knee and hitched her thigh up to his waist, and she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him close.

“You are so fucking sexy.” His mouth burned a trail over her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes and stroked her hands over his shoulders. They were so big—
he
was so big, everything about him.

They kissed and kissed until she felt like she was going to combust, and then he unhooked her ankles behind him. He dropped to a crouch to untie his boots, still watching her, desire burning in his eyes as he jerked the laces.

He was here. They were doing this. The determined look on his face made her ears ring and her pulse race. He stood up, then toed off his boots and kicked them away.

She reached for the waistband of his jeans and pulled him closer as he yanked the shirt over his head. And then they were fighting with his belt, his button, his zipper.

“Hurry, or I’ll lose my nerve.”

“No, you won’t,” he growled, nipping her neck. He shoved his jeans down, and she squeezed her legs around him as hard as she could. He lifted her right up off of the dresser and carried her to the bed and laid her back on it with surprising gentleness. His movements were careful, but the fierce look in his eyes made her heart skitter.

And then her gaze slid down his body, and her heart nearly stopped altogether.

Oh, m
y God.
She sat up on her elbows to look. She traced a hand over his shoulder, his chest, his perfectly sculpted abs. He rested his knee between her thighs, and he stretched out over her, supporting himself with his arms as she looked at him in awe. She knew he kept in peak physical condition. She knew he spent hours and hours a week running and swimming and lifting and God only knew what else. But actually seeing the evidence of it . . .

“Wow,” she said, and her cheeks warmed, because it sounded so childish.

He smiled and kissed her, and she ran her hands over his shoulders, unable to get enough of him, so blown away it was almost embarrassing. No, it definitely was embarrassing. She’d never been with a man who was so completely
male
in every conceivable way. She squirmed out from under him, and he gave her a confused look as she nudged him onto his back. Heat flared in his eyes, and she felt the shift in equilibrium as she shoved him back against the bed and straddled him.

“I need to just—” She settled herself against his erection, and he closed his eyes and groaned.

“Sorry.” She brushed her hair from her eyes. “I need to look at you.”

“Don’t be sorry. Jesus.” He gazed up at her, and his jaw was tight, and he looked like he was almost in pain as she sat back on him and stared. “Look all you want.”

He’d asked about
her
scar, but he had so many more. She traced her finger over the welt on the side of his shoulder and the one under his collarbone. She traced over his chest to the trail of dark hair that started at his navel, then ran her finger back up to his ribs, where there was a jagged mark. Shrapnel? Her heart jumped into her throat, but she forced a smile.

He slid his hands over her thighs and up under her blouse, and she closed her eyes and tipped her head back as he cupped her breasts with his huge palms. His thumbs rasped her nipples, sending little shivers down her spine as she undid her buttons one by one.

He watched her intently as she shrugged off her shirt and reached back to unhook her bra. She slid it from her arms, and he sat up and dragged her against him, and the hot pull of his mouth made her go dizzy. He felt so good. Everywhere. Everything. His lips, his hands, the big, hard ridge of him pressed between her legs.

She rocked against him, again and again, until the tension started to build and their movements and kisses became more and more urgent. He shifted her and held her at the edge of the bed with one arm as he pulled her panties down her legs and tossed them away, and then she was back astride him, fusing herself against him and kissing him until she could hardly breathe. She noticed the condom sitting on the nightstand and had no idea when it had come to be there, only that she needed it desperately. She reached across him, and he went after her breast, and she fell against the table with a yelp. His mouth was hot and greedy against her skin. She pressed the condom into his hand and then distracted herself by kissing him as he shifted and pulled it on. And then he moved under her.

“Liz.”

“Hurry.”

“I don’t want to hurt—”

She cut him off with a kiss and moved her hips and—

Pain and pleasure speared through her. She gasped and gripped his shoulders.

“Oh, God.” She closed her eyes and surged against him, loving the pressure and the pain and the hot, hard friction of him.

He clutched her hips. The stubble of his beard scraped her tender breasts as he kissed her and nipped at her and she set a rhythm.

“Derek,” she gasped. “Oh, my God.”

“Tell me when.” He said it through gritted teeth, but she couldn’t respond.

She couldn’t do anything but urge him to keep going and going and—

“Tell me.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, rocking her hips against him again and again. “
Yes.
”

He bucked under her, and there was a white-hot burst, and her body shuddered and convulsed as she crashed against him. And then it was like the earth rose up beneath her, and he flipped her onto her back, and he was driving her up, up, up, all over again. She couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe. She could only cling to him and dig her nails into his back as he plunged into her over and over and the tremors started again. They took over her body, and just as she couldn’t take another moment, another instant, he pulled back and gave a final, powerful thrust and fell against her.

She lay beneath him, too stunned to speak or even move. Not that she could have with his weight pinning her against the mattress. She shifted her hips, and he pushed up on his arms and then flopped onto his back with a groan.

She watched him, her pulse still roaring in her ears and her body throbbing.

“Holy Christ, Liz.” He turned to look at her.

She didn’t say anything, and he got up and disappeared into the bathroom briefly. When he rejoined her in bed, she scooted close, resting her head on his biceps. Because it felt natural. It seemed like the thing to do. She flattened her hand on his chest and felt his heart pounding against her palm.

Her mind reeled. For nearly a year, she’d talked herself out of this, she’d stayed away, she’d resisted. And then he’d shown up tonight, and she’d attached herself to him like a limpet. She’d practically jumped his bones, and now he surely knew how pathetically long it had been since she’d had sex with someone.

She looked at the sheen of sweat on his skin. At least, he’d exerted himself, too. He pulled her closer, and she felt a swell of emotion as she traced her finger over his muscular arm.

“Is that . . . glitter?”

He slid a look at her. “Huh?” He glanced at his arm. “Oh, yeah. From Lexi. She had it on when I saw her.”

“And she just . . . happened to shed it on you?”

“It probably rubbed off accidentally.” He squinted at her, then propped himself up on his elbow and gazed down at her. “You’re pissed.”

“Not at all.” She hated the snark in her voice, but she couldn’t help it. She was lying here naked, and now all she could picture was some dancer with her double-D cups rubbing glitter on him. She glanced down at her own chest—perfectly average Bs, thank you very much—and suddenly realized every light in the room was blazing.

“Hey.” Derek smiled down at her, clearly enjoying her petty jealousy. “I didn’t touch her. Not like that.”

“It’s fine. Could you turn off the light please?”

“Why?”

“Because it’s almost four in the morning.”

“You’re not planning to sleep, are you?” His smile widened, and she felt a maddening rush of heat.

She sat up and reached for the lamp herself, bumping her head against his chin.

“Ouch!”

“Sorry,” she said, not sorry at all as she plunged the room into darkness.

He hauled her on top of him and shifted her hips until she was straddling his lap, and she felt his hot mouth close over her nipple.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, making his way down her body. “I can work in the dark.”

E
lizabeth awoke disoriented. Her eyes felt swollen, her limbs heavy. She squinted at the man sprawled beside her, and everything came back in a flood of erotic images.