Scene of the Crime: Return to Bachelor Moon by Carla Cassidy Page A
Authors: Carla Cassidy
Tags: United States, Fiction, Suspense, Romance, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, series, romantic suspense, Mystery & Suspense, Contemporary romantic suspense, Harlequin Intrigue
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downward.
She stopped breathing in anticipation as his mouth moved along her stomach and then whispered across her panties, warming her with his breath. He removed her panties by inches as she raised her hips to aid him. When his mouth touched her there, she climaxed and cried his name again and again.
As she came back to earth, he hovered between her thighs, his boxers gone, his face taut and beautiful with his need for her.
She grabbed his tight butt and pulled him forward, reveling in his need, welcoming her own. He slid into her with a deep sigh, and then his lips found hers in a kiss of aching tenderness.
He ended the kiss and then began to stroke, slow and deep inside her. Their breaths became pants as his motions became faster, more frantic, and she felt the rise of exquisite pleasure building again inside her.
She clung to him, encouraging the piston of him rubbing against her, into her, until she flew over the edge at the same time he stiffened with his own release.
They remained locked together, their breathing ragged as faint thunder sounded, indicating that the storm had passed. He finally moved off her and stood. He grabbed his boxers from the floor and stepped into them, then grabbed his shirt and pants, as well.
“Just think of this as a dream you had,” he said, and then he was gone from the bedroom. A moment later she heard the sound of the door leading to the kitchen open, then close.
She remained in bed, satiated and drowsy and feeling like it had all been some sort of crazy dream. But the scent of him lingered on her sheets, and her body still retained his imprint.
Reluctantly she got out of bed, picked up her panties and nightgown from the floor and went into the bathroom. Minutes later she was back in bed, but sleep was the last thing on her mind.
She’d awakened earlier and felt hungry. She’d been staring at the contents of the refrigerator trying to decide on a late-night snack when he’d appeared, and any appetite she might have had for food had disappeared.
Her head was filled with Gabriel. Although she had told him she’d pretend they’d never had sex, that this night would mean nothing in the light of dawn, she knew she had lied.
Although she had no expectations from him, understood that this night would remain just a single night of hot sex in his mind, she would hold it tight in her heart to be remembered whenever she thought about how fragile life could be, how haunted she’d felt when Sam and Daniella and little Macy had disappeared.
She would retain this memory inside her mind, inside her heart, because being in Gabriel’s arms tonight had made her feel safe and loved, even though she knew it had been a false illusion.
She awakened before dawn, and after a shower she headed into the kitchen to start the coffee and think about what the men might want for breakfast.
As she got out the ingredients to make waffles, she consciously shoved thoughts of Gabriel from her head. When the coffee had finished brewing, she poured herself a cup and stood at the kitchen window, watching the sun peek over the horizon.
There was no sign of the storm that had passed in the middle of the night, just like she knew not to expect Gabriel to even acknowledge that anything had happened between them, either.
As she sipped the strong brew, her thoughts turned to the people who were missing from the house. She was losing faith in anyone finding them alive, and that lack of faith horrified her.
Like the men working the case, a deep frustration welled up inside her. Who could have taken the Connellys? Why had they been taken?
And when was it time for her and Cory to leave here? There was a part of her that wanted to flee the pain of being here, where shadows of the missing danced in every corner, yet there was also a part of her that felt anchored here. She felt like a caretaker who had been given the responsibility for maintaining this place until Daniella returned.
With each long day that
She stopped breathing in anticipation as his mouth moved along her stomach and then whispered across her panties, warming her with his breath. He removed her panties by inches as she raised her hips to aid him. When his mouth touched her there, she climaxed and cried his name again and again.
As she came back to earth, he hovered between her thighs, his boxers gone, his face taut and beautiful with his need for her.
She grabbed his tight butt and pulled him forward, reveling in his need, welcoming her own. He slid into her with a deep sigh, and then his lips found hers in a kiss of aching tenderness.
He ended the kiss and then began to stroke, slow and deep inside her. Their breaths became pants as his motions became faster, more frantic, and she felt the rise of exquisite pleasure building again inside her.
She clung to him, encouraging the piston of him rubbing against her, into her, until she flew over the edge at the same time he stiffened with his own release.
They remained locked together, their breathing ragged as faint thunder sounded, indicating that the storm had passed. He finally moved off her and stood. He grabbed his boxers from the floor and stepped into them, then grabbed his shirt and pants, as well.
“Just think of this as a dream you had,” he said, and then he was gone from the bedroom. A moment later she heard the sound of the door leading to the kitchen open, then close.
She remained in bed, satiated and drowsy and feeling like it had all been some sort of crazy dream. But the scent of him lingered on her sheets, and her body still retained his imprint.
Reluctantly she got out of bed, picked up her panties and nightgown from the floor and went into the bathroom. Minutes later she was back in bed, but sleep was the last thing on her mind.
She’d awakened earlier and felt hungry. She’d been staring at the contents of the refrigerator trying to decide on a late-night snack when he’d appeared, and any appetite she might have had for food had disappeared.
Her head was filled with Gabriel. Although she had told him she’d pretend they’d never had sex, that this night would mean nothing in the light of dawn, she knew she had lied.
Although she had no expectations from him, understood that this night would remain just a single night of hot sex in his mind, she would hold it tight in her heart to be remembered whenever she thought about how fragile life could be, how haunted she’d felt when Sam and Daniella and little Macy had disappeared.
She would retain this memory inside her mind, inside her heart, because being in Gabriel’s arms tonight had made her feel safe and loved, even though she knew it had been a false illusion.
She awakened before dawn, and after a shower she headed into the kitchen to start the coffee and think about what the men might want for breakfast.
As she got out the ingredients to make waffles, she consciously shoved thoughts of Gabriel from her head. When the coffee had finished brewing, she poured herself a cup and stood at the kitchen window, watching the sun peek over the horizon.
There was no sign of the storm that had passed in the middle of the night, just like she knew not to expect Gabriel to even acknowledge that anything had happened between them, either.
As she sipped the strong brew, her thoughts turned to the people who were missing from the house. She was losing faith in anyone finding them alive, and that lack of faith horrified her.
Like the men working the case, a deep frustration welled up inside her. Who could have taken the Connellys? Why had they been taken?
And when was it time for her and Cory to leave here? There was a part of her that wanted to flee the pain of being here, where shadows of the missing danced in every corner, yet there was also a part of her that felt anchored here. She felt like a caretaker who had been given the responsibility for maintaining this place until Daniella returned.
With each long day that
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