As Reilly met the hard eyes of her partner, she guessed the pair of them were going to miss another pizza opportunity : Standing across her kitchen, Veck was looking downright pissed off, and although she bristled at the caveman routine, it wasn't like she didn't know where he was coming from.
"Why didn't you tell me," Veck demanded again. "Or, shit, if not me, anyone else?"
"Who says I was stalked."
"Why else would you move the furniture into that arrangement."
See, this was why you didn't want to date a detective... .
Linking her arms over her chest, she leaned back against the counter. "I didn't actually see anything." She shrugged. "If I'd had something to report, I would have told you. But I just sat in that chair all night, wondering if I was paranoid. Nothing happened."
"You should have called me." At that, she cocked a brow, and he cursed as if he were remembering how things had been left between them. "Okay, okay ... but, damn it, I don't want you up alone for hours waiting for someone to break into your house."
"I was all right. I am all right now. And I guarantee you that if anyone had come into my house, I'd have taken care of the situation."
Muttering something about Dirty Harry, Veck went over and sat at the kitchen table. Bracing his arms on his elbows, he rubbed his head. "This shit is out of hand."
Which part? The idea that they were being stalked? The Kroner situation? The body they'd found?
The sex? The "love" thing?
So much to choose from.
As she took the chair across from him, she thought of her parents, sitting together at their table in that nice house of theirs. She'd bet they'd never had to stare at each other over this kind of -
A screech lit off from behind the house, and she and Veck were up on their feet before the high-pitched burst faded.
"Wh>Guns came out as they both back-flatted on either side of the sliding door that opened to the backyard. Reilly nailed the overhead light switch, plunging the kitchen into darkness, before hitting the one that cranked the security lights on.
Her eyes searched the brightly illuminated yard.
There wasn't much to her back forty. It was more like a back four, and the only vista she had, such as it was, was of the boxy, suburban connect-the-dots of the other houses in the neighborhood.
Nothing was out there. That she could see.
Her instincts told her another story. And made her think of all the footprints "Jim Heron" hadn't left behind.
"I feel like I'm going crazy," she muttered.
"Funny, I'm worried we aren't."
When nothing else happened, they waited. And waited. And waited some more. Eventually, they both peeled off from the door and reholstered their weapons.
"We need food. And a shower," she muttered. "And a psych eval."
When there was no response, she glanced over at her partner. Veck was pacing around, looking as if he were about to levitate off the floor.
It went without saying that there was going to be no talking him down. So she stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop or mow her over. He stopped.
"Food. Shower," she commanded. "In that order. We can skip the psych thing for now."
He smiled at her and brushed her cheek with his hand. "This your way of asking me for a date, Officer."
"Guess it is, Detective."
"Then how about we start with a shower," he said in the kind of deep voice that made her consider the value of cleanliness.
Meticulous, soapy, slow-going cleanliness.
She had to clear her throat. "Because I have a feeling we're going to be up there for a while."
"You don't say." He stepped in closer and put his hands on her hips. "You think we're that dirty."
"Try filthy," she said, focusing on his lips. "We are past dirty and into filthy territory."
Veck purred on a low throb as one of his palms went up to the small of her back. The other went down and gripped her, bringing her flush against him so that his erection was a hard, thick demand pushing into the front of her hips.
As he rolled his pelvis, he stroked her with exactly what she was breathless for.
And in response, Reilly rose onto her tiptoes, arched into him, and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Veck ..."
"Yeah," he growled.
Tilting her head to the side, she put her mouth less than an inch from his. In her breathiest, sexiest voice, she murmured, "What do you want on your pizza ..."
Then she sucked his lower lip in and bit it ever so slightly.
He groaned and tightened up all over. "Tease."
"I'll be your dessert - "
Turned out you didn't taunt a man like Veck. He backed her up against the wall, took both her hands, and held them out against the si Reilly oster paper. Pressing himself into her, so that she felt him from her thighs to her breasts, he worked a rhythm of retreat and advance until she was panting.
"You'd better order now," he said, licking up her throat. "Or I'm not going to let you get to the phone for a while."
He stretched out her arm, putting her in the vicinity of the receiver. But he didn't stop with the erotic riding, or the tongue. Instead, he pushed his leg between hers so the friction got worse ... or better, depending on how you looked at it.
God, she wasn't sure she could work the phone. Or remember the number of the place she called at least once a week.
Somehow, she snagged the receiver, and in a fit of inspiration hit redial - because the last number she'd called had been the one from two nights ago. As it was ringing? Veck amused himself by kissing his way down to her collarbone, which made speaking a little difficult.
Somehow, she squeezed out her name, address and the order for a pepperoni-and-sausage, large. And then it was a case of, "No... . no just the one ... no ... no Cinna Stix ..."
She found herself burying her fingers in the thick hair at the nape of his neck and arching into him.
"No ... God, no - " Okay, that sounded a little too porn-star, especially when it was about not wanting a half-priced liter of Coke product. In desperation, she croaked, "Just the pizza." For the love of all that is holy, just the fucking pizza! she wanted to scream. "T-t-thank you."
The phone was hung up on a wing and a prayer, and then it was all about the fast and the furious.
"How much time?" Veck growled against her throat.
"Twenty ... minutes ..." She latched onto his body, holding him as he had her before - by the hips. "Bathroom."
He grabbed onto the backs of her thighs and jacked her up off the floor. Locking on to his shoulders and linking her legs around him, she hung on as he made a mad rush for the hall bath.
The crowded little room shrank down to the size of a matchbox with both of them in it. But at least the sink had enough of a counter for him to put her on.
After he kicked the door shut, she went for the front of his slacks at the same moment he attacked the buttons on her shirt... .
Too many hands, not enough room.
"Let me," she said, putting him off and solving both problems in a matter of seconds by yanking her top over her head and doing an unzip at NASCAR speed.
He was already going for that wallet of his. Except then he frowned. "Last one."
She stopped in the middle of unhooking her bra. "I don't have anything in the house."
And this was just supposed to be a quickie before the main attraction of fully naked, in her bed, all over each other.
Damn it - she had never seen any virtue in being promiscuous, but at least if she'd had been worthy of all that stuff she'd bought at Victoria's Secret, she have condoms around. And on his side? It was chivalrous that he hadn't refilled the stash in the expectation of them, or anyone else he was with, being in this position. For chrissakes, though.
"Shit," she said.
Veck was breathing hard, his chest pumping, his body more than ready for what they'd started: His erection had taken advantage of being freed and was jutting out of those slacks of his, straining against his boxer briefs.
With a curse, he put his wallet back in his pocket. And then did the same disappear with his arousal, tucking himself away and rezipping, even though it was a struggle, given the size of that damn thing of his.
"Oh, no," she said roughly. "I - "
He came back at her lips, cutting her off as he owned her mouth with his tongue. With subtle pressure, he eased her into the wall by leaning forward, until she was jammed into the corner, her body semisprawled.
And that was when he started touching her.
He pushed the bra down and went for her nipples, tweaking them until she gasped against his lips. "Veck ..."
"Shhh. Let me do you like this."
He bent further to get at what he'd exposed, sucking on her as his hands went other places, riding down her thighs, stroking her.
He moved with mind-scrambling laziness, juicing her up, but not going anywhere near that sweet spot that was aching. Meanwhile, his mouth was working miracles on her nipples, teasing and flicking, then sucking again, and, God, the sight of his dark head down to her naked skin was a turn-on.
Running her hands through his thick hair, she sawed her legs against his hips. "Veck - please ...
"Tell me what you want," he said against her breast.
"Touch me."
He eased his head to the side and looked up at her. "I thought I was."
On that note, his pink tongue extended and ran a warm, wet circle around her nipple. Groaning, she tried to arch back, but there was no room.
"Where do you want me to go, Reilly?" he demanded. As she went for his hand, prepared to give him a guided frickin' tour, he held his arms away. "Nope. You have to say it."
"Veck ..."
"Nice name." He put his lips next to her ear. "And even better, you sound like you're about to come when you say it. But I don't think you want me to touch myself."
"That'd get the job done," she moaned as she imagined his big fist gripping his shaft.
"Sorry, my focus is on you. Where, Reilly."
Screw this. Two could play at the teasing game. She gave him a subtle push and he obligingly inched back, no doubt ready to hear all kinds of fun things hit the airwaves. Instead, she lowered her lids, stared up at him ... and put her own hand between her legs.
"I'm thinking of you," she said, rubbing herself. Then she bit her lip and worked her hips as well - not because she wanted to show off, but because that was how she was feeling him. "Touching me ... I'm feeling you ... touching me... ."
Veck's knees seemed to buckle. Either that or she threw off his center of gravity - either way, he sagged into the wall and had to throw out a palm to hold himself up.
Working her sex through her trousers, she watched him watch her - and it was gratifying to know this solo act wasn't going to last. His rabid eyes were locked on what she was doing,his body trembling like at any second he was going to snap and take over what she'd begun.
"Want to help?" she drawled.
He was on her in a flash, adding his hand to her minstrations, until she moved out of the way because it was more exciting for him to stroke her.
Under his quick and nimble fingers, her pants came undone and then he was pushing them down her thighs, his efforts aided when she braced her foot against the toilet seat and lifted her butt. With the waistband around her knees, he had access to her panties and -
"Oh, God!" she called out as he found her.
There was something so delicious about the combination of her being superslick and him doing the rubbing. And that was even before he ducked under the barrier and went skin-to-skin with her core.
Digging into his shoulders, she yanked him to her mouth as he focused on the top of her sex, driving her higher, and higher, and -
Reilly came hard, the force of the orgasm clenching her legs together around his talented hand, her body jerking in rhythmic pulses. He didn't stop what he was doing, however - he helped her ride out the cresting waves until she was a limp, panting bag of bliss.
As Veck pulled back and stared down at her, he might not have had a release himself, but he damn sure was looking satisfied.
"How was that for an hors d'oeuvre?" he murmured, his low-lidded expression suggesting he knew every bit of how great he was.
When she'd recovered enough to move, she reached out and cupped his erection through his closed fly. "Payback is going to be a pleasure."