Private Investigations. Tori Carrington

of the itching. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

      He glanced at his watch. “And of course you would pick now to change your mind.”

      “Of course.”

      He sighed. “I’m supposed to be in a meeting right now. A very important meeting that could have a very important impact on my company.”

      “Uh-huh.” She could tell by the way his gaze kept drifting to the front of her T-shirt and her mouth that the idea of her kissing him was looking better by the second. She leaned in until their lips were almost touching.

      “Which, um, brings me to the reason I’m here,” he murmured.

      “You mean you didn’t come back just to pull me out from under the bed?” But before he could answer, Ripley softly pressed her lips against his.

      Joe groaned, his left hand going for her right and the gun. He held it still while his right hand skimmed under the hem of her T-shirt to grasp her breast. She dipped her tongue and tasted his lips. Coffee. Something sweet. A doughnut? She worked her tongue into his mouth. Vanilla. Definitely a doughnut. Bavarian cream.

      He quietly cleared his throat, flicking the pad of his thumb over her erect nipple. “What I have in mind takes place on top of the bed, not under it….”

      4

      OH, GOD…

      Joe had never considered himself a particularly religious man, but standing there kissing Ripley while holding her gun still with one hand, the fingers of his other stroking her bare breast under her T-shirt was the closest to heaven he’d ever come. A heart-pounding mixture of denial and raw need exploded in his groin until he took the gun out of her hand and put it on the table, then backed up until he plunked down in a chair and she tumbled after him. Much maneuvering ensued, and what he had hoped for happened as Ripley put her legs on either side of the chair and straddled him. Preferable would be if she was minus a pair of jeans, but when her pelvis made solid contact with his he forgot about logistics and delved his tongue deeper into her mouth.

      In one smooth move her T-shirt was up and over her head, tousling her auburn hair so it fell wild and curly around her face. He hungrily grasped her breasts in both hands. Not too big, not too small, she fit in his palms perfectly. He fastened his mouth over an engorged nipple and generously laved it with his tongue, reveling in the deep sound she made in her throat and the digging of her fingers into his shoulders. He skimmed his hands around her rib cage to her back, then dove toward her lush bottom, dipping his fingers into the waist of her jeans. She felt so softly decadent, so sinfully sweet. He pressed her more tightly against him, filling his mouth with her flesh and bringing his erection more fully against her.

      Ripley thrust her hands into his hair and pulled him back and away from her breasts so she could launch a fresh attack on his mouth. “This…is…so…crazy,” she said between kisses.

      Joe completely agreed. Crazy was exactly the word he’d use to describe every moment of the twelve hours since she first slipped between his sheets and into his bed.

      He ran his fingers up and down the hot silk of her back, then plunged them under her bottom as she pushed his jacket back, and fumbled for the buttons to his shirt.

      Joe thought he heard a sound in the hall. Still kissing Ripley, he slanted a gaze toward the door. The security latch was securely in place. But when it came down to it, how much security would it actually provide, especially against those three guys?

      All too quickly the reason he’d run out on his lunch meeting with a couple of sales representatives and returned to the hotel to see her came rushing back.

      “Ripley,” he whispered, trying to tear his mouth from hers.

      She made a low sound in her throat as she tugged the tails of his shirt from his slacks.

      He caught her hands in his and pulled his head back as far as he could without giving himself whiplash. He nearly cursed at the sheer desire he saw reflected in her brown eyes.

      “Ripley, we need to talk.”

      The instant the words were out, the unmistakable sound of a card key being inserted into the lock came from the door.

      In a flash she was off his lap and diving for the bedroom.

      Joe began to follow, nearly colliding with her when she backtracked to retrieve her gun and myriad papers from the table. Her hands shook as she grasped all of it and sought safety.