Don't Forget Me (29 page)

He wants me as much as I want him.
The knowledge sped through her like brandy in her blood, warming, thrilling. She reached for his zipper.

“Um…” He narrowed his eyes, taking hold of her hand. “Better let me.” He struggled for a moment, pulling the zipper carefully over the swell of his arousal, then jerking his jeans and underwear down and kicking them away.

Kit stared at him again, the lean body with its ropes of muscle. The solid length of him jutted free, painfully erect. Her breath caught in her throat for a moment, and then she moved forward again, pressing herself against him from shoulder to knee. His erection pulsed against her belly, the sound of his breath loud in her ear. He fisted his hands in her hair, pulling her back gently until his mouth found hers again.

It wasn’t a kiss so much as a claiming. He nibbled on her lips, then plunged deep into her mouth, his hands cupping her face now, holding her steady.

She slid her hands down his sides, feeling the points of his hip bones, the slight indentation at the top of his thighs. She slid down further to cup him gently, hearing the quick hiss of breath as his mouth dropped away from hers.

He took hold of her shoulders, pushing her back until she felt the edge of the bed against the backs of her knees. And then she was sliding down gently, with Nando’s hands guiding her to the mattress.

He fumbled at his jeans on the floor, pulling the foil packet loose from the pocket. She didn’t stop to wonder how he’d known it would end like this. He’d just known. So had she. And then he was kissing the side of her neck, running a hand down her stomach to cup her, one finger dipping inside to send something like an electric shock through her abdomen.

She gasped at the suddenness of the feeling that washed across her.

Nando pushed himself up on one elbow. “Okay?”

She nodded, chewing her lip. “More than okay. Way more than okay.”

His teeth flashed in the darkness before he ripped open the foil, sheathing himself quickly. “Sorry, babe, I can’t be slow this time. I’ll make it up to you.”

“I don’t want slow,” she growled. “I want you. Now. As hard and fast as you can make it.”

He pushed her back against the mattress, spreading her knees wide. And then he was sliding in, impossibly large, stretching her more than she could bear but so much what she wanted. She wrapped her legs around him as he plunged deep, then fought the urge to moan in protest as he moved back again.

“Oh Christ, Kit,” he muttered. “Sweet Christ. I forgot how good it feels to be inside you.”

She wrapped her arms more tightly around his waist to hold on, arms and legs both locked around his body. All of a sudden she felt as if she might fly apart without an anchor to hold her in place. The feel of him deep inside, the thrust against her inner muscles made her whimper with need. Pressure began to build within her, carrying her up.

He slid his hand between them, rubbing his thumb against her, and she cried out, digging her fingers into his shoulder blades as she spiraled upward toward a starburst of sensation.

“Open your eyes,” he whispered. “Look at me, Catarina. Look at me now. I need to see you feel it.”

She squinted, fighting for breath as the starburst took her, then stared up into the infinite darkness of his gaze. The muscles of his face were taut, his mouth pulled tight across his teeth. “Look at me,” he gasped. “Now.”

She brought her hands down to cup him, closing her fingers around the root, and he shattered, plunging deep inside as he threw his head back and shouted. Kit brought her heels tight against him holding him in, the breath whistling in her throat.

In another moment he dropped down beside her again, rubbing his face against her shoulder, one hand moving to cup her breast. “Ah, Catarina,” he whispered. “Catarina. I’ve missed you so much.”

Kit swallowed hard. She felt as if her heart had missed a beat.
Careful, for Christ’s sake be careful!

“Me too,” she whispered so softly she wasn’t sure he could hear. “Oh, me too.”

Chapter Eighteen

Clayton Delaney took one more turn down Main Street. People were still coming and going at the bars and a couple of the restaurants like Brenner’s that stayed open late. It was Saturday night in Konigsburg, and both tourists and locals were taking advantage of the balmy weather, even if it was the end of March when it could start raining at any moment.

On the whole, Clayton got a kick out of Konigsburg, a lot more than he had out of Johnson City where he’d grown up and where his parents still lived. He was looking for an in-town apartment in his price range, but he hadn’t found one yet. As soon as he did, he’d be moving out of his parents’ house and into his own place. It wasn’t that Johnson City didn’t have its own attractions, but everybody there knew him. And his parents. And his grandparents. And his uncles, aunts and assorted cousins. Some people in Johnson City could probably draw up an entire family tree for a couple of generations of the Delaneys with no trouble at all. And when they saw him, they probably remembered every half-assed thing he’d ever done, all the way back to grade school. It was no way for a cop to live.

No, Konigsburg was definitely better for him. He liked the town, he liked the people, he liked the other cops. Well, he liked most of the other cops. Ham Linklatter was an asshole, but Clayton figured most police departments had one or two assholes running around. It sort of went with the territory.

The other people were outstanding, though. Chief Toleffson was already legendary in the county, the guy who’d personally caught the crooked mayor and a woman who’d tried to kidnap a baby. Clayton thought he was probably as good as most big city chiefs of police, and he figured Konigsburg was lucky to have him, particularly since he had family in the area and would probably stick around for the long haul.

He respected Nando too. Like Toleffson, he was a lot better than some of the small town cops Clayton had encountered while he was growing up in the Hill Country. And Helen Kretschmer was the most terrifying woman he’d ever seen, which was actually a plus for a dispatcher. She was very good at her job too.

Watching Nando and Toleffson work was an education in itself, almost as helpful as the Criminal Justice classes he’d taken at Austin Community College. He wanted to finish his associate’s degree, and Toleffson had said they might be able to adjust his hours so he could take a few more classes on line this summer.

Clayton ran an assessing glance over the lower end of Main. It was still early for the burglar to be out and around. In reality, he thought the creep had probably taken off by now. They’d almost caught him last time, and he hadn’t taken anything that was worth shit in either of the other break-ins. He’d probably figure he should cut his losses and maybe move on to someplace like Marble Falls.

Still, if Clayton had learned anything in his short law enforcement career, it was that crooks didn’t always think things through. If the perp was local, he might want to stick around—he might not even think about moving on to someplace that wasn’t familiar. And if he decided to stick around, it was going to be a lot easier to catch him. Because sooner or later his luck would run out. Sooner or later his own stupidity would help them get a line on him.

Clayton smiled. He really, really wanted to be the one who did that. He’d started cruising Main in the evenings, even when he wasn’t on duty. He figured if he saw anything suspicious, he could always call the station and be forwarded to whoever was patrolling that night. Nailing this particular SOB would help him to move from being the New Guy to being someone the others knew they could depend on. He didn’t figure it would happen overnight, but he figured it would happen a lot quicker if he could catch the burglar, or at least see something that would help somebody else catch the burglar.

And tonight, he was officially the guy on patrol. Well, he was one of the guys, along with Dawson Kirk. But if he saw anything tonight, he’d be the one who led the charge—although he’d be careful to call for backup, having learned from Nando’s experience that it was a good idea to have someone else around before taking the perp down.

Clayton took one more careful survey of the darkened shops. He didn’t see any lights or any movement. He’d already been up the alley once, and he’d make another sweep there when he came back after he’d gone to the station. Kirk was there doing paperwork, and they’d switch over on the half hour. But he’d head out again himself soon after that. The chief had said he wanted both men on patrol at night with minimal breaks. That worked for Clayton—he hated paperwork and he hated sitting around the station waiting for something to happen.

He checked his watch again. Maybe five minutes more. Enough time for one more pass up Main on his way back to the station. His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he swept a quick glance across the shop windows, looking for a light. He really, really wanted to be the one who caught this guy.

The second time they’d made love, Kit had straddled him, riding him slowly, her hands braced on his chest so that she could stare down into his eyes until they’d both come undone. Nando had been glad Allie didn’t have any close neighbors. He figured they’d made enough noise to warrant somebody banging on the door if they’d been back at his apartment.

Now Kit lay dozing in his arms, her breath light against his shoulder, while he stared at the ceiling, trying to remember exactly what he’d said when they’d made love the first time. Eighteen months ago he’d sworn he’d never let himself be that vulnerable again, never let her close enough to wound him. He didn’t exactly feel that way anymore. Still, he wanted to make sure he hadn’t said anything that would let her know just how much power she still had over him.

He remembered telling her how good she felt, but he didn’t think that was too revealing. He also sort of remembered telling her how much he’d missed her, which was a lot more dangerous. But he thought he’d heard her say she missed him, too, although her voice was so soft he wasn’t entirely sure.

He knew for sure he hadn’t said he loved her. And he was pretty sure he wouldn’t. At least not yet. Of course, he’d already told her that before, and it hadn’t made any difference. But that might have been because he’d said it in one of those voice mail messages she’d never answered. And then there was the way he’d said it.

Do you want me to say I love you? Is that what you want? Okay, I love you. Is that enough? Does that take care of it?

He winced slightly. Jesus, that had been a godawful time. He still felt bruised when he thought about it. He knew he’d deserved her anger after Lizzie, but he hadn’t expected her to shut him off completely. To not even talk to him for eighteen months. Why had they both tried to hurt each other—and accomplished it so expertly? He’d loved her. How could he have done what he’d done to her?

He’d loved her.
The tense was wrong. He loved her. Now. Still. But he sure as hell didn’t want to end up slashed to pieces and bleeding again. He didn’t want to think about how long the recovery might take this time.

“Nando?” Kit moved against him sleepily. “Are you okay?”

He ran his hand down the silk of her hair. “Sure. Go back to sleep.”

She pushed herself up on one elbow, running a finger down his throat. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He caught her hand, bringing it to his lips. “Nothing,
chica.
Everything’s working right as far as I can see.”

Her lips turned up in that faint smile, but her eyes looked troubled. Or maybe just wary. “Are you hungry? We’ve still got all that pizza.”

“Maybe we can finish the wine. I’ll get it.” He pushed himself up, grabbing his underwear from the floor.

He found the bottle where he’d left it on the kitchen table, then scrounged a couple of juice glasses out of the cupboard, ignoring the hallway where they’d almost had sex on the first available flat surface. Something about Kit Maldonado stripped away every last particle of good sense he’d ever had. Which was how he’d ended up behaving like the village idiot last time and being kicked in the gut as a result.

He heard a step behind him and turned to see her standing in the doorway, watching him in the moonlight that spilled through the kitchen window. She was wearing his T-shirt and nothing else so far as he could tell. He’d forgotten just how long her legs were, and now he had a terrific view of almost their entire length.

He concentrated on pulling the cork out of the bottle as he felt himself harden again. He hadn’t been this randy since high school, and even then it seemed like his recovery time had been longer than this.

“Here.” She took the glasses he’d found and put them back on the shelf, then brought back two wine glasses. “Bored Ducks deserves better than that. Bored Ducks deserves the best.”

“So do you,” he blurted.

Holy crap, he’d just sworn he wouldn’t say anything like that. Whatever happened to caution? His higher brain functions seemed to go on vacation whenever she walked into his range of vision.

Kit put the wine glasses on the table, then took the bottle out of his hands and poured them each a healthy shot. “Thanks,” she murmured. “You do too.”

He closed his eyes, sipping his wine and fighting not to pull her back into his embrace again. Just a few months ago, he’d been wishing for this, longing for this. Just this kind of night with her. Now he was scared witless that he’d lose it all again.
Be careful what you wish for,
cholo.
You just might get it.