Hidden Fire, Kobo (9 page)

"Then go to bed."

"I was waiting for you." His
gravel-rough voice brought an ache to her chest.

His hair was damp, she discovered when
she reached to push the wayward lock off his forehead. She let her fingertips
roam down his cheeks, to his stubble-coarse jaw. He'd showered but hadn't
shaved. He
always
shaved before they got together. Had he been serious
about not wanting sex tonight? She'd dismissed that as
guy talk
on the
phone, but maybe he'd meant it.

She stood, pulling him up with her. "Come
on. Have you eaten anything?"

He draped his arm over her shoulder. "I
had a latte for breakfast, a soggy chicken sandwich and a couple of candy bars
out of the sheriff's vending machine for lunch. And about four pots of coffee.
I wasn't needed anymore, so I hit the road before dinner. By the time I got
home, I was too tired to deal with it."

"I can fix us something." She
took the hand dangling in front of her and led him out of the room, toward the
kitchen.

He stopped dead. "God, I didn't even
ask where you were or what you were doing when I called. Did I pull you away
from your dinner?" He spun her around.

"Not exactly. I was at the shop,
working on tomorrow's opening. Hugh Garrigue's pottery exclusive. I told you
about it, remember?"

"Yes, I do." He kissed the top
of her head. "Which makes me feel all the more like a jerk for asking you
to drop everything and come running because I was in an exhaustion-induced
funk."

"Well, I'm here, so, what'll it be?
Food or sleep?"

"Two of the top three survival
needs." He pressed his belly and grimaced. "I don't think I could eat
anything right now."

"Then bed it is." She fumbled
her hand along the wall, searching for the hall light switch.

"Leave it. I know the way," he
said, holding her close and walking down the narrow hallway.

Relieved to hear his lightened tone,
Sarah snaked her arm around his waist. In his bedroom, she turned on the light,
getting her first clear look at him. She sucked in a gasp.

"That bad?" he said. He put his
fingers over her lips. "Don't answer. I have a mirror. I thought the red
eyes with the purple bags under them made a statement."

"They did. And it was, '
Get into
bed. Now
'."

He sank to the edge of the mattress,
elbows on knees, head in his hands. He wore cotton drawstring pants and a
t-shirt, the closest he came to pajamas. Sarah stroked his hair. He didn't move.
God, he was sound asleep sitting up.

"Poor thing," she whispered.

She smoothed the bottom sheet of the
unmade bed. When she pressed against his shoulders, he jerked. "Mmph. I'm
up."

"No, you're not. Lie down." His
eyes opened, but she doubted he was seeing anything. She pressed against his
torso and when he collapsed, she bent down and tried to lift his legs onto the
bed. "Work with me here, Randy. Another minute and you can sleep."

There was a momentary flash of
comprehension in his eyes. He shifted and settled himself against his pillow.
She pulled the covers over him and kissed his closed eyelids. His breathing
steadied and she turned off the light.

He might not be able to eat, but she was
starving. She left for the kitchen as Starsky and Hutch entered the bedroom. "Take
care of him, okay?"

She heated a can of chicken noodle soup
and found some not-too-stale rolls. Sitting at the table, she dunked the rolls
into the hot broth and filled the empty places in her stomach. If only the ones
in her heart were as easy to plug.

Starsky and Hutch bounded into the
kitchen, mewing. Hutch leaped onto the table, something Sarah knew was
forbidden.

"Are you two doing the Lassie bit?
Did Randy fall down the well?" She scratched Hutch under his chin and
headed for Randy's bedroom.

She halted in the open doorway. His
ragged breathing, his tossing and turning, interspersed with his muffled groans
spoke volumes. She'd had those nightmares. How many times had he held her when
she'd flashed back to Chris?

Stepping out of her clothes as she
crossed the room, she swallowed against the thickening in her throat. She
shivered as the cool night air brushed against her bare skin, puckering her
nipples. With the hall light giving her the illumination she needed, she found
a t-shirt in Randy's dresser and slipped it on.

She closed the door, then crossed to the
far side of the bed and wormed in beside him. Randy's body was a furnace beside
her. His legs thrashed. "Shh," she said, reaching across his chest.
She stroked the coarse hair that covered his torso. "Go back to sleep."

He inhaled one long breath, then exhaled.
"Sarah?"

"I'm here now. Sleep."

He turned on his side and curled her into
him. She shifted, fitting into the curve of his body as if she sat on his lap.
His arm reached over her and she took his hand to her shoulder. His elbow
rested against her hip, his forearm between her breasts, snuggling her as if
she were a favorite teddy bear. Her hand slid down to his arm and she clutched it
tight against her, the way she had her own stuffed Binky. He gave one final
wriggle, as if proving to himself she was real, and she knew he slept. As it
always had, his touch melted any remaining tension and she followed him down.
But on the way, her own thoughts danced.

She'd known him to go without sleep before.
She'd known he'd had cases that burrowed their way under his skin, but he'd
always separated his life from his job. What was it about this case that
corkscrewed through his professional wall?

The scent of peaches trickled through
Randy's senses. His nose twitched and he inhaled deeply. Sarah? Her warm body
pressed against him. Real this time, not a dream. His groin tightened and he
balanced on the hazy boundary between sleep and wakefulness, not wanting to
relinquish either.

His hand slid down to her breast, content
to cup its soft mass.

"Mmm," she murmured, rubbing
her chest against his hand.

His thumb drew lazy circles around her
areola and she gave one of her soft whimpers of pleasure, angling her hips
tighter against him. Wriggling enough to bring his cock to full attention.

Was she any more awake than he was?
Half-asleep sex was good, but he wanted to enjoy her. Wanted her to enjoy him.
He thumbed her pebbled nipple as he raised an eyelid enough to read the clock.
Four. Lots of time.

He nuzzled her neck and she tilted her
head, giving him access to the spot below her ear. He kissed her there, tasted
her. Her whimpers increased to quiet moans. He traced the line of her jaw with
a forefinger, but she found his hand and replaced it on her breast.

While he continued his nipple
exploration, she reached behind her, between them, and stroked his erection.
His balls contracted as desire filled him and her fingers roamed down there,
then back to his cock, twirling around its head, spreading the drops of
moisture. Then slowly down his length again, over his balls and to his inner
thighs. Her touch tormented and delighted.

He lifted her thigh enough to slide his
penis between her legs. Moist heat welcomed him and Sarah closed her thighs
around him. Denying him entrance, teasing, she moved her hips as if he were
inside her.

God, he could come just from that. But
not alone. He abandoned her breast and reached over her mound, seeking her nub.
He found it, wet and swollen. He rubbed tiny circles with his finger, driving
her higher and higher until she raised her hip and guided him inside. Slick,
tight, hot. For him.

* * * * *

Sarah contracted her inner muscles and
see-sawed her hips until Randy became part of her. Thick, smooth, hot. For her.

Without opening her eyes, she knew it was
still night. One she wanted to enjoy awhile longer. She slowed her movements
and stayed Randy's hand.

"Guess you're awake," she said.
"Or is it only Mister Smiley?"

Warm breath caressed her ear. "Both
of us."

"Turn over, both of you."

He gripped her waist and began to roll.

"Not that way," she said. "I
want to see you. Mister Smiley can be on his own for a couple of seconds."

The connection broken, she turned and
flung one knee over his torso, straddling him. She took his hands and placed
them on her breasts. "You have enough strength to work more than one part
of you at a time?"

In response, he pinched her nipples. "God,
Sarah, I missed you. Both of us missed you. All of you."

The only possible answer, she knew, given
the circumstances. Was it Randy speaking, or the testosterone? The tiniest
niggling doubt appeared. Who was she kidding? Right now, she wanted the
pleasure as much as he did. What he really wanted, what she really wanted
beyond this moment could wait. She turned off that part of her brain and inched
backward toward his hips.

She rubbed her slick channel over his
erection, rebuilding her arousal. His fingers on her breasts matched her
rhythm, kneading, massaging. He drew her against him and sucked one nipple while
his thumb made rapid circles on the other.

Forward and back, she slid along his
length. She caressed his balls, feeling them grow taut beneath her fingers.

His teeth scraped along her nipple as he
broke contact. "Sweet God in heaven, Sarah, let me inside you. Now.
Please."

She rose above him, his erection standing
proud beneath her, tall and stately as one of Hugh's creations. She opened
herself to him, lowered herself a fraction, then rose again. Down, this time
allowing a little more of him inside. His grip on her breasts tightened. She
took in another inch, each time sliding him over her core, until she perched on
the brink of release.

His hips bucked, seating him to the hilt
and she moved with him. The tempo built like one of his Chopin Preludes. Faster
and faster. His gasps signaled his impending climax. Higher and higher until he
shouted her name and her world shattered like a delicate crystal vase.

Dizzy, faint, she sank to his
sweat-filmed chest. "Wow."

"Way past wow." He traced his
fingers along her spine.

After a time, his strokes grew slower,
then stopped. He softened inside her and she rolled away in search of the small
towels in his nightstand drawer. After cleaning herself, she wiped his
semen-coated belly. He mumbled something incoherent and turned onto his side.

"Good night. Again." She
checked the clock and set her internal alarm for six. This time of year, it
would be getting light by then and she'd be able to get home, dressed and to
work in time to meet Jennifer at eight. Closing her eyes, she spooned herself
behind Randy and let his even breathing put her to sleep.

* * * * *

"Phone for you, Sarah."
Jennifer poked her head out of the shop's small office where she'd been taking
a well-deserved break. "Randy. You want me to take over while you talk to
him?"

Sarah glanced at her watch. One. She'd
been too busy to notice he hadn't called, but what was becoming a too-familiar
irritation slammed into her gut. "Please."

"Hugh's pottery's been an amazing
draw," Jennifer said as she slid past Sarah in the office doorway. "I
can't remember being this busy since last Christmas."

Neither had Sarah. So busy, in fact, she'd
had to abandon her backup paper receipt system. She'd download everything from
the sales receipts later and use that for her marketing spreadsheet. No matter.
It wouldn't kill her to work in the store instead of at home a couple of nights
to catch up.

She grinned. "What I like is that
they're buying everything, not just his stuff. It's good business for all the
artists." The chimes jingled. Sarah glanced at the customer coming through
the door. "Think you can deal with Mrs. Gromley?"

"I can handle her. Go."

"Call me if she starts whining."
Sarah wiped her hands on her skirt as she stepped to her desk. She took a
cleansing breath and picked up the handset. "Hello, Randy."

"Hi. Why didn't wake me when you
left?"

"I didn't want to disturb you. You
needed sleep."

"I got it." His voice was
husky.

"Are you just waking up?"

"Not exactly. Showered and had
breakfast. Or lunch."

Both of which were more important than
calling her? She chastised herself.
Give him a break
. He hadn't eaten
the night before and they'd worked up a sweat. She almost forgave him. Almost. "They
figure out who the dead guy is? Catch the killer? We've been swamped and I
haven't had a second to catch any news updates. The gossip mills are quiet,
which surprises me."

"I know as little as you do."

"Don't you have to go in?" she
asked.

"No, I'm off today." There was
an unusual testiness in his tone. "Can we have dinner?"