Cobblestone Press
A smile twinkled in his eyes as he lowered his head and recaptured her mouth.
The pure carnality of his kiss sent desire pulsing through her. A strange new warmth spread into her limbs, a liquidity she hadn’t experienced with Mike or any other man. Not that there had been that many. She fisted her hand in Cutter’s cotton shirt.
This was so wrong. Cutter wasn’t going to Sex Crimes, but he was still a cop. She’d vowed to keep her distance from all of the boys in blue to preserve her job and reputation.
She put her hands on his chest to push him away, but he held her tight and deepened the kiss. Her resolve dissipated in a heady swirl of passion as their tongues tangled in a dance as old as time. Instead of running, Emily molded herself to him. He was hard where she was soft. All angular muscle, brawn, and steamy testosterone.
He slid his hands to her buttocks and lifted her so that his steely arousal nestled in the damp cleft between her legs. She gasped at the unexpected contact.
“I want you so goddamned much,” he said, his breath hot and wet on her ear. “Right here, right now.”
“God, Cutter.” Passion streaked through her, weakening her defenses as he let her slowly slide down his body until she stood on shaky legs. All her inhibitions melted in a puddle at her feet.
He peeled off her jacket. She clung to him, her heart pounding wildly. He took off her sidearm and dragged off her tank top. Cool air bathed the tops of her breasts. He grinned and plucked at her nipples through the sheer white lace of her bra.
“I’ve always wanted to touch you,” he said, his words gruff with desire. He slid the straps of the garment off her shoulders and helped her out of it. Then his hands and mouth were on her tender skin; the heat of his suckling sent moisture dripping down her thighs.
She shoved his jacket off his shoulders and grappled with the hem of his shirt.
“Whoa, there.” He laughed softly as he caught her hands. “Slow down.”
He pulled off his shoulder holster and put it on the counter. Then he stripped off his shirt. Emily ran her fingers through his crisp chest hair and a searing, primal yearning spiraled through her. Her stomach tightened.
She reached for his belt buckle, and he wrestled with hers. In seconds they were both naked and his hot hands cupped her bare backside. He lifted her up onto the smooth countertop. The shock of the cool marble beneath her bottom made her gasp. Before she could gather her senses, he pulled up a barstool, straddled it with his naked thighs, and spread her legs. Then he plunged his tongue inside her.
“Oh. My. God.” A convulsion wracked her, and she slid her fingers into his soft hair to keep from vaulting off the counter. She continued to quiver as he made love to her with his mouth. Kissing and slurping. Sucking on her most sensitive flesh. She’d never felt so wanton. So wild. So cherished.
The telephone jangled, startling her. She jerked and tried to pull away.
He raised his head. “Let it ring.”
“No.” The world came crashing back, and heat flooded Emily’s cheeks. She was going to be late for work.
Cutter rose and kissed her as the phone continued its frantic plea. The musky taste of her own body flooded through her, along with a fresh spear of passion.
“Loosen up, Em,” he murmured, kicking the stool out of the way. “You can call in when we finish.”
“But what if they—”
He jerked her to the edge of the counter. “Don’t think about it.”
To her relief, the phone stopped its frantic pealing. She gasped as Cutter lifted her knees and pressed the swollen tip of his engorged penis against her heated tissues.
“I’ve gotta have you. Now.”
“God, Cutter. We shouldn’t—” She held her breath as he pushed inside her, stretching her tender flesh. He was hot and thick, and it hurt. A whimper escaped her. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders and held on tight.
“You can take me,” he whispered, holding her thighs wide with his callused hands. He never stopped his relentless push. “Just relax, honey.”
Relax. The word echoed in her head as she clutched his sweaty shoulders. This was John Cutter, the man she’d cursed only moments ago. Now she was hyper aware of his warm, musky scent, the slickness of his mouth, the searing heat of his shaft. And she was hungry for him to come inside of her.
The second he sheathed himself to the hilt, the world tilted. Stars burst behind her eyes. He held her buttocks in a vice grip as he began to move, pistoning in and out, the feeling like nothing she’d ever known. She sailed up, up and over herself, her heart pounding, sweat pouring off her sex-slicked body, her raging emotions making her beg for more.
Cutter obliged. And just when she thought she would come apart, the sky unraveled and her mind shattered into a million tiny fragments. She cried out Cutter’s name over and over again as he exploded within her, his loud cry of triumph mingling with hers and reminding her they were still two people, not one. They rocked back and forth for a long time, until they gradually stilled. Tears rolled down her cheeks as he held her tight, their bodies joined, for what seemed like hours.
Finally, their damp flesh cooled, and Emily became away of the icy marble beneath her thighs. She shivered.
“Cold?” Cutter asked, his deep voice raw with emotion.
She nodded. Talking was out of the question.
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