He pinned her up against the wall, his body rigid with the pleasure pulsing through him, her soft gasps of breath hot against his mouth. Women. Geezus.

So perfect. Especially her. Hot, and soft, and wet, and silky, turning him on and setting him off.

He pushed into her one last time, keeping himself deep inside, just to feel her as he finished off, just to hear the small sound of pleasure she made. God, he could do her all night long, but she didn’t feel like she had the strength left to get to the bed.

So he held her, and he stayed inside her, just loving the way she felt, his heart still pounding.

She was so dangerous.

God.

“You okay?” he asked after a few more moments had passed, brushing his mouth across her cheek.

“Mmm-hmmm.” She rocked against him, ever so slightly, and his eyes damn near crossed-it felt so good.

He smiled and kissed the side of her neck.

“I wanted to do this the night we met,” he whispered against her skin, “from the minute I walked into the gallery and saw you.”

“Mmmmm.” She was still pulsing around him, soft, latent ripples.

He tightened his arms around her and buried his face in her neck, and he breathed her in, filled himself with the warm and lovely scent of her skin. “You feel so damn good.”

“Oh, Dax,” she murmured, softening against him and running her fingers up through his hair-and he kissed her, moved his mouth to hers and just played with her, sucking on her tongue, gently biting her lips, just trying to get more of her.

She was so responsive, teasing him, giving of herself-he felt it with every move she made.

Carefully, slowly, he pulled out of her, and he kissed her while he did it, softly, on her mouth, on her cheek, on the side of her neck. Then he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

He wanted her naked.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Suzi felt satiated with his lovemaking, yet she knew she wanted more.

Sitting on the bed in her birthday suit, bustier on one side of her, Marcella’s skirt on the floor, she watched Dax where he was bent over her shoes, unbuckling every tiny strap.

“I could help you with your shirt,” she said. It was the only piece of clothing he still had on.

“Got it.” With her foot still in his lap, he reached up behind his neck and pulled the shirt off over his head.

He tossed it off to the side and went back to getting her out of the platform heels. The boy was concentrating on the job, his hair all tousled from her fingers, a smudge of lipstick on his cheek, his gaze intent.

God, he was beautiful, dark hair covering his chest, delineating his abs, his legs so strong and muscular, his fingers nimble.

She didn’t want to think about anything else, not about earlier, when she’d been crying in his arms, and not about the loss that would forever haunt her days, not right now. The ache was always with her. It never went completely away.

But with Dax, she had a chance for a small reprieve, and she wanted it, just a little more time with him, time to be held and cared for, and to get lost in his loving. It was crazy, something of the moment, intense and vital, sex and solace and salvation all wrapped up in Dax Killian’s arms.

The sheets were clean on his bed, and they’d pushed the blankets and covers down to the end. He had a lot of pillows, and while he worked on the tiny straps, she rested back on them.

He didn’t look up from his task, but she saw him smile, and when he got the shoes off, he lifted her leg over his shoulder and kissed the inside of her knee.

“That’s a good start,” she murmured, and he grinned wider-and then he kissed the inside of her knee again.

Inch by inch, he worked his way up her leg, stretching himself out on the bed, until his mouth was back at the hot sweet center of her desire.

She lifted her hips against him in rhythm with the forays of his tongue, and she let herself sink into the loveliness of how he made her feel.

And so it went, on and on, his mouth on her everywhere and then coming up to take her in a kiss, hot and soft and deep, claiming her as he pushed up inside her. Everywhere she held him, she could feel the sleek, powerful movements of his muscles beneath his skin.

The world disappeared, time and again, every moment in his arms drawing them closer-hot mouth, soft skin, hard body, lush breasts, the curves of her hips, the angles of his, warmth, eroticism, tenderness, falling…falling…falling into lust, into taste, and sight, and scent, and sensation.

On his next thrust, he pushed up harder into her and held himself deep, and there he stayed, his breathing slow, and even, and sure, his body like iron.

He leaned down and kissed her, a fleeting touch of his mouth.

“You’re hot, sugar,” he said, smoothing her hair back off her forehead.

They both were. There was no fan in the room, and the heat rolling up from the street was a palpable force, even at midnight. Their bodies were slick with sweat, the room like a steam bath, and he was teasing her, holding himself so still, second after endless second, until even the slightest movement nearly sent her over the edge.

“Dax… please.”

He pulled out and pushed back in so slowly, she thought she might lose her mind.

“Please…”

She strained against him, wanting him to take her there, to make her come, to give her the release he promised with every thrust.

“Please… oh, Dax.”

He leaned down and kissed her again, and his next thrust came harder, and the one after that faster, each one stoking a banked fire deep in her core, until it caught and flashed into flame.

She clung to him, riding wave after wave of pleasure, hearing him groan on top of her, a guttural sound of need and satiation that echoed in her heart.

Dax Killian had come undone, and oh, how she loved it.

Slowly, their bodies relaxed as they breathed together, still locked in each other’s arms, and dear God, he smelled good-all overheated male.

Dax Killian with the car named Charo. He was so smooth. He was so slick, such a tough piece of work on the street at sixteen, and twenty years later, that toughness had been tempered into steel. In the last six months, she’d wondered hundreds of times what might have come of them, if she hadn’t missed him that morning at Duffy’s Bar in Denver. Lord, she’d never dragged herself out of bed for a man at six o’clock in the morning-until he’d asked her to meet him for coffee.

Now she knew why she’d raced around like a maniac on less than four hours’ sleep just to see him. It wasn’t that his smile could melt bricks, or the easy confidence of his gaze. It was for this. That for whatever reason the universe worked the way it did, Dax Killian was a haven for her, a place to rest. She’d felt it instinctively then. She felt it in every cell of her body now. He was here, by her, with her, and she was safe.

She let her breath out on a soft, easy sigh, and he brought his forehead down to rest on hers.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Mmm-hmm.” She stretched beneath him, and he grinned.

“Good,” he said, resettling himself next to her and sliding his nose down the side of hers.

Oh, geez. She could get used to this. She could get used to it in a heartbeat.

Wrapping his arm around her, he slowly rolled them to their sides, and he kept her close. He stuffed a pillow under his head and one behind her back, and then he kissed her, slanting his mouth over hers and sliding his tongue in deep.

It was a hot kiss, lazy, thorough, missing nothing. Breaking off, he gently bit her lower lip, then licked her, then kissed her again, taking her mouth with his own. It wasn’t a “turn you on until I turn you inside out” kiss. It was a “hello” kiss, a “now that we’re both not so crazed maybe we can explore each other” kiss, and he was exploring her the same way she was exploring him, not just his mouth, but the taste of him, the angle of his jaw, the weight of him up against her, the hard muscles in the arm around her.