Patrick sat on the couch at the front window and removed a laptop from his satchel. I put the drinks on the coffee table and picked up my mug of cold tea. “I’m just going to get rid of this.”
“Yes, sure,” he said and started typing.
I hurried into the kitchen and dumped the old tea into the sink. I glanced around and opened a cupboard while looking for some food to nibble on. I grabbed a half-eaten jar of peanuts and put it down. No nuts.
I rejoined Patrick and sat beside him. The inhalation of his fresh scent seemed to increase my mental clarity, ease the tension, and warm my insides. If there was a thermal image scan of my body, I knew what areas would glow redder by the second. I inwardly groaned and pulled the fabric of the front of my dress up to cover my nose.
“Are you all right?” He stopped working as he waited for my answer.
I let the fabric go, and the neck of my dress line slipped back into place. “I’m fine, well better than fine. I’m good. Reallygood.” I hoped Patrick knew me well enough to know I wasn’t as dumb as I just sounded.
He grinned. “I’m glad.” He put the laptop on the coffee table. “So, I’ve set this up for you. I adjusted the demographics to white males, ages eighteen to fifty. Scroll through them. Take your time. If you see any guy that looks familiar, just click on it, and we can come back to it.”
“All right. I think I can handle that.” I started scrolling on the touchpad, and he handed me a nice warm cup. “Oh, thank you,” I said and sipped tea as I looked at one solemn face after another. After examining several more, I shook my head. “No luck yet.”
“Take your time,” he said and slipped a hand to the nape of my neck and massaged gently. Goose bumps tingled and rippled from the focal point of his touch. My thoughts drifted to last night when Patrick and I were in bed. And then I realized I wasn’t paying adequate attention to the faces scrolling across the display. I moved forward and perched on the edge of the couch and pretended to concentrate more intently on the screen. Patrick’s hand dropped away, but my desire remained ignited.
I scrolled back to revisit the faces I hadn’t paid complete attention to.
Patrick took the plastic lid off his paper cup and took a drink. “Someone look familiar?”
“Maybe,” I fibbed. I started chewing on the side of my thumbnail. His closeness made it impossible for me to focus.
Patrick leaned forward. “Is this too difficult for you? We can take a break.”
I coughed, choking for a second, and then almost laughed. “No, I’m fine. I can absolutely keep going. We have to find this guy no matter what.” I kept looking. I searched through the long list once, and then again. Nothing registered familiar, nothing emerged from the recesses of my memory. “God dammit,” I said under my breath. “I really suck at this.”
His arms reached around me and cradled me against his chest. His cheek brushed mine. I fully inhaled his scent. His possessive arms held me firm.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re an excellent witness. Thanks to you we have a lead in the case.” In circular motions, he swirled his fingers on the fabric of my dress at my midsection. He had touched no intimate areas, yet they heated nonetheless. The embers were getting hotter. If his hand moved any higher or lower, there’d be combustion. My breathing became irregular, even more so as he kissed my neck.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. I quivered. His lips covered mine perfectly. How was that even possible? His hand wandered out of the circle and moved upward.
Ignition.
With great effort, I pushed away. “Patrick,” I said and adjusted my dress and hair. Not really caring how I looked, it was merely an attempt to regain self-control.
Passion glistened in his eyes, and his lips remained parted. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to take advant—”
“You didn’t. There’s just work to be done.”
He nodded. “There is.”
The problem was that I couldn’t convince my body and mind to focus on anything other than Patrick. It was futile. Cutting off reason, I turned and practically leapt into his lap. I straddled Patrick’s thighs, wrapped my arms around his neck, and locked his lips to mine. His hands cupped my rear and held me close. I unbuttoned his shirt and ran my hands along his firm torso.
“I love your fingers,” he whispered. “But you touched me, inside, long before you used your hands.” He leaned forward to reclaim my lips with his, but I didn’t engage. I wouldn’t let his tantalizing poetic words toy with my mind. They were said in the heat of this moment, and that’s all they’d be. Words. I had to remember that.
I moved off his lap, stood, and took a few steps back. The look in his eyes appeared distressed and confused. He stood to follow, but I lifted my index finger.
“Just a second. Wait there.”
Obediently, he waited in place. His expression relaxed, and he raised a brow. I scurried into the hallway, opened the closet door, and, from a hanger, grabbed a thin yellow fringed scarf. I held one end and let the other end drag on the floor behind me. With slow, fluid steps, I returned to Patrick. He slipped an arm around my waist and leaned in to kiss me, but his lips missed the mark when I turned my head. I eased his arm from my waist and looped the scarf around his wrist. The corner of his mouth curled, and he let me continue. I stepped behind him and tied both of his wrists together with a firm tug. I moved in front of him. He stood there, statuesque and bound like a felon. But his only crime was trying to steal my heart.
He looked at me more seriously, probably anticipating my next move. Funny, I hadn’t planned one yet. His pecs flinched, and I drew in a quick shallow breath. His physicality affected me so acutely I could barely contain myself. Warm magma flowed to my lower region, engulfing, engorging. I undid the top button of Patrick’s jeans and slipped them down to his thighs. The fabric of his white briefs strained. I pushed at his firm midsection, and he sat on the sofa with his hands secured behind him.
I lifted my dress enough to resume a straddled position on his lap. He kissed my shoulder, then my collarbone, where the neckline of my dress gaped open. My focus went lower. I fumbled to free him, and he raised his hips to assist. The anticipation alone surged even more neuropeptides through my veins. I kissed Patrick and then pulled away a mere millimeter.
“Are you cool with this?” I whispered.
