The Perfect Solitaire. Carmen Green

gorgeous. You know that?” he asked. His gaze roamed her as he caressed her most intimate parts.

      She smiled down at him. “You’re biased.” She stuck out her tongue and he was up in a flash and had captured it between his lips. They were again chest to chest, sex to sex, and she had to have him.

      Zoe wrapped her legs around his back and pushed, and he shook his head and murmured, “No.” “Why?” she whispered, nipping his ear, backing up a little. She reached down and took him in her hands.

      He muttered an expletive as he watched her and she wrinkled her nose at him, laughing. “Aren’t you about to do that?” she teased.

      “Woman, don’t play. That’s a dangerous weapon. Handle with care.” Even as he taunted and teased her, his hands never left her body. His strokes were purposeful and strong. She felt wanted. Needed, even.

      Carefully, she wound the pearls around his sex and rolled them gently up and down. His eyes widened. “You were telling me why I couldn’t have this,” she said, and kissed his manhood. His thigh muscles flexed. The stimulation from the pearls and her mouth seemed to drive him close to the edge, and his chest rose and fell in quick pants.

      “You keep that up and I won’t be able to please you,” he said.

      “Yes, you will.” With each stroke and suck, he drove his hands through her hair until he couldn’t take any more. He pulled her up and took the pearls from her hands. “You’re dangerous with these, you know that?” She smiled, biting his chin. “You’re a bad girl, Zoe.”

      “I want you,” she told him as she touched his hardened sex again, her legs tingling. Zoe was surprised at her confession. She’d never spoken those words to another man in her life. She wondered how she’d feel in the morning, but she didn’t care right now. She wanted him and she meant to have him.

      Opening for him, she lifted her legs and he kissed her as he pushed inside. They both smiled. She, in surprise. He, in knowing. “Big,” she whispered.

      “You can handle me, baby,” he said, and began to move in her.

      Each stroke made up for all she’d missed.

      “You’re gorgeous,” he whispered, again and again. Her desire soared the more they moved as one. His thrusts were powerful, his six pack of tight muscles a visual delight. But it was his eyes glazed in pleasure that drove her closer to the finish line. Watching their bodies meet in carnal bliss, the way his hands took possession of her thighs and bring about her climax made her arch, her fingers running up his arms. She wanted to hold him to her, but she didn’t want to say that. The end was approaching fast and Ben seemed to know.

      “Come here,” he said and lifted her, their bodies still joined. He seemed to innately know that this was the only time she’d completely let go. He moved inside of her to a place no man had been before, and she cried out her climax, her body clutching his, words falling from her lips she couldn’t explain or remember. A second later he pulsed inside of her, their mouths attached, their mating finally at a blissful end.

      Their breath wasn’t fully recovered when his phone began to ring. Neither of them moved; her head on his shoulder, his muscular arms cradling her. It rang again and stopped, then started again. “That’s the signal. I have to get it.”

      “What signal?” Zoe asked as he lay her down on the bed, leaned over and grabbed his pants.

      “The phone rang three separate times in succession. That means pick up. It’s probably Rob.”

      “Who’s Rob?” Zoe rolled onto her side, wanting Ben’s attention back on her.

      “My twin brother.” Ben smiled and dragged a curl of her hair down to her breast. It popped back into place. Zoe nuzzled Ben’s chin, half listening as he talked. She recalled now that he’d mentioned that he was a twin and Rob was older by four minutes.

      “Rob? What’s going on? Yeah. Where’s Zach? I’m off tonight and I’ve got company.” The sensual glow cleared from his eyes, and the finger he’d been using to run down the center of her chest was now turning on the lamplight.

      “We can pick up Pickens tomorrow,” Ben said.

      “The warrant is still good. No, if you need me, I guess I can come. What else? I have company, Rob.”

      Warrant? Hadn’t he said he was an investigator? Not a bounty hunter. Those were two distinctly different things.

      Zoe gathered her G-string and snapped it into place, frantically searching for her bra. Skipping it, she put on the white-linen dress she’d worn to the party. It was very wrinkled, but linen was that kind of material. She stepped into it, hating she couldn’t find her bra. Her nipples were chafing against the material. How could she have been so wrong? Wild passion was a terrible thing and had clouded her good sense.

      She quickly snapped up all of her belongings and went around to the side of the bed so Ben could see her. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” she said, and he half stood, but she waved him down. “I can find my way out.”

      “You don’t have to leave.” He looked confused, and regret passed over his face.

      “No. I’m gone,” she told him.

      Her shoes tapped against the marble floors decisively. Though not a cop, all she could remember from childhood was her mother and the nervous way she’d approached the door every time the doorbell rang when Zoe’s dad had been at work. She’d been waiting for bad news and now she’d finally gotten it. Two months ago, her father had been left for dead in a hit-and-run accident in the line of duty, and because of budget constraints by the city, medical benefits he needed were being cut. Her mother was barely supporting them on her teacher’s salary. No way. Investigator. Cop. It didn’t matter. She would not be her mother.

      Just reading Zoe McKnight’s name in the e-mail made Ben Hood’s thigh muscles stretch and his biceps flex in remembrance of how good their lovemaking had been.

      Three months had passed since she’d been right here in his house, and he should have forgotten her by now, but he hadn’t. Nat King Cole was right. She was unforgettable.

      Zoe was far more beautiful than the movie stars or the women music videos touted as icons of beauty. She was an authentic woman with a soft stomach he’d enjoyed holding in his hands, shapely breasts that filled his palms, and thighs that gripped his in earnest. And that unruly mass of hair that she tried to tame with a headband or clips, and that he could never forget pulling free and letting go wild.

      Her smile still lit up his mind. “I’ve got to go. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Those were her last words to him over three months ago. He’d been a one-night piece of ass, and that didn’t sit well with him. How many times in his younger, stupider days had he promised to call a woman and hadn’t?

      Karma was a mean old bitch.

      He tapped the keyboard and paged through the e-mail file, reading why she wanted to hire Hood Investigations, Inc.

      Her jewelry stores, Zoe’s Diamonds on Peachtree and Zoe’s Diamonds at the Galleria, kept getting robbed. The amounts taken weren’t large and his initial thought was that it was an inside job, but instinct told him Zoe wouldn’t have pursued their company if she hadn’t already considered that possibility.

      Atlanta stores and gas stations had been plagued with smash-and-grab type robberies with thieves stealing ATM machines. But these robberies were different. These were smooth break-ins and they were affecting Zoe’s economic future.

      The stores had been fit with sensors and cameras by a reputable security company, but they’d been disabled every single time. So far, only merchandise had been taken, but Zoe was worried that the thieves were becoming more brazen and striking more often, and soon, somebody might get hurt. Her biggest concern was that she was planning a multi-million-dollar expansion project and not only did she need A-1 credit, but a low-incidence crime rating.

      It’s an inside job, Zoe, baby.