'You're enjoying this,' she accused when he went down on his haunches to soap up her legs, massaging her calves and feet.

He picked up her handheld sprayer and started rinsing her body with warm water, a teasing smile on his face. 'Aren't you?'

'Yes, but- Oh God.' She choked on the words when he abruptly rocked forward to his knees, slid his hands up the backs of her thighs to grab her butt and buried his face between her legs, licking up into her. 'Oh God. Yes. There. Please.'

In seconds he had her whimpering, moaning, her legs threatening to fold beneath her. She clutched his hair, her hips thrusting to get closer, get him deeper. She was close, so close. Then . . . 'No!' she cried when, as abruptly as he'd started, he lurched to his feet, leaving her on the edge and ready to claw his shoulders to make him go back down. Until she saw his face.

He was no longer smiling, his eyes dark and glittering with need. Without looking away from her, he turned the water off, backed her against the wall and kissed her so hard she saw little white lights floating behind her eyelids. He broke off, letting her gulp air into her burning lungs, then lifted her arms around his neck, curved his hands over her butt and shoved the shower door open with his shoulder. He picked her up, and she wound her legs around his hips, wiggling to get his erection up inside her folds, rocking against him as he carried her out of the bathroom. Once in the bedroom, he carefully laid her down on the bed, both of them still soaking wet, the overhead lights blazingly bright.

But she didn't have even another second to think about the wet, because he followed her down, sliding down her body until his mouth was between her legs again. He didn't lick, but went straight for her clit, sucking it into his mouth, making her scream. He didn't stop, sucking her hard, and then his finger was back inside her, then two, stroking her faster and harder and higher.

The orgasm exploded inside her. Hands clawing at the sheets on her bed, her body arched like a bow and she tried to breathe, but the air was stuck in her lungs. And still he didn't stop, sucking and stroking until the wave broke and she collapsed, shuddering and gasping.

And crying. She was crying, tears pouring from her eyes, a sob pushing its way out of her chest. Instantly he was there, hovering over her, brushing the tears away.

'Scarlett,' he whispered hoarsely. 'Did I hurt you?'

'No.' Unable to stop the tears, she let go of the sheets and ran her hands up his chest, feeling the hair tickle the flesh between her fingers. 'It was . . . God, Marcus.' She drew a breath and let it out, feeling her body settle, feeling the tightness in her chest begin to ebb. 'I've never . . . not like that. Never like that. Just . . . intense. Give me a second to come down.'

But he didn't, shoving his hands into her hair and taking her mouth with a fierceness that bordered on pain, but wasn't. She dug her fingers into his shoulders and kissed him back, the taste of herself on his lips making her shiver violently. His hips thrust and rolled, his erection hard as iron against her inner thigh.

Blindly he groped under the pillow and pulled out a foil wrapper. 'When did you put that there?' she asked.

'Before I got in the shower.' He kissed her hard again, then pushed himself to his knees between her legs and ripped the packet with his teeth, almost snarling when she reached to help him. 'Don't,' he warned. 'If you touch me, it'll be all over.'

'No, don't let it be over. Not yet.' Watching as he rolled the condom over himself, she licked her lips, a new thought surprising her. Going down on a man was never something she'd enjoyed, but seeing Marcus so huge and . . . beautiful, she knew she would. Not now, but later. She wanted to make him groan and beg the way he'd done to her.

She looked up and realized he'd been watching her stare at him, and that it had stoked him even higher. 'Later,' he growled, not even a hint of his normally smooth voice remaining. 'I need to be inside you. Now.' Bracing his weight on his arms, he thrust up into her in a single hard stroke, making her moan at the pleasure of being filled. Being taken.

It took her a second to realize that he'd stopped. 'Are you okay? Did I hurt you?' he asked with a frown. He was breathing hard, his arms trembling from the strain of holding himself immobile.

'I'm fine,' she breathed. 'Better than fine. Don't stop. Please.'

'Thank God,' he muttered, and began to move again. 'You feel so good, I'm not sure I could have stopped.'

But he could have, and they both knew it. Because he was still in total control of himself. And her. He knew exactly what to do, how to move. All the right spots to make her moan. He aroused her with his body, but also with the expression he wore as he watched her. It was primal and possessive, proud and lustful, but also . . .

Reverent, she thought, emotion rising to fill her throat once again. He handled her carefully, utterly and completely focused on her every reaction, her every sigh. He made her buck and squirm beneath him, beg and curse and beg again until she wanted to scream from frustration. But still he held back.

He was making sure she felt pleasure even as he took his own, but suddenly that wasn't enough. She wanted to feel him lose control. Wanted to feel the storm she saw in his eyes suck her in and draw her under.

She cupped his face in her hands, caressed his cheekbones with her thumbs. 'Let go,' she whispered. 'Take what you want. I won't break. I promise.'

He shuddered. 'I can't. I want too much. I'll hurt you.'

This was an important moment she knew it instinctively. One that would set the tone for all the moments to come. She hooked her foot around his calf and, using her other foot as leverage, flipped him to his back so quickly that he lay there, still deep inside her, staring, his eyes wide and stunned. And then darkly aroused. His jaw tightened, his hands gripping her hips so hard it hurt. But it was good hurt, especially when he yanked her hips down on him, driving even deeper up into her.

She leaned over, bit his lip. 'I won't break,' she repeated, enunciating every word, then sat back and rode him hard.

A groan ripped out of his chest and he arched his back, digging his feet into the mattress so that he could push himself higher. Then he rolled them again and drove into her over and over, his thrusts bordering on savage. She met each one, locking his gaze with hers, daring him to slow down.

'Not a chance, Detective,' he muttered, and she laughed.

This, she thought, this is the way it's supposed to be. The way we're supposed to be.

They said nothing more, gazes locked. Marcus took her hands in his, threading their fingers together, the connection a tender one in stark contrast with the way their bodies were coming together everywhere else.

While the first orgasm had been an explosion, the second hit her like a storm surge, slowly and powerfully pushing every conscious thought out of its way, leaving nothing but pleasure in its wake.

She came down sighing his name, somehow knowing he'd been watching her the whole time, waiting until she could watch him. She squeezed his hands with her own, squeezed his erection with her inner muscles. 'Now,' she whispered. 'Let me see.'

He did, and he was as beautiful as she'd known he'd be. Muscles straining, his erection throbbing and pulsing inside her, his body shuddering as he came. He exhaled once and shuddered as an aftershock kicked in. He released her hands, lowering his body from the push-up position he'd maintained throughout to rest his weight on his forearms. He dropped his forehead to rest gently against hers.

'Scarlett.' It was barely a murmur, but delivered in the velvet voice she'd heard in her dreams for nine long months.

She lifted her hands to stroke his face, her fingers tracing his lips. 'This was more.'

'Yeah. I knew it would be, but I still didn't expect this.' He kissed her then, long and lush, leaving her breathless once again. 'I don't want to move. Ever.'

'Then don't.' She spread her fingers over his chest, sweeping her hands back and forth to feel the hairs tickling her palms. 'Stay here with me, just a little longer.'

Twenty-six.

Cincinnati, Ohio

Wednesday 5 August, 12.30 A.M.

Marcus came out of the bathroom and stopped in his tracks. Scarlett was standing next to the bed, bent over the mattress, her shapely butt pointed straight at him. His cock stirred and stood at attention as his mouth watered, and it took him a few seconds to realize that she was stripping the bed.

He crossed the room to cozy up behind her, chuckling when she startled and cursed.

'Dammit, Marcus, stop sneaking up on me.' But she didn't sound angry as she straightened and leaned back into him, resting her forearms on his when he wrapped his arms around her waist. She stiffened in surprise when his cock pressed against her lower back. 'Wow. You're . . . already . . . again. Wow.'

His ego preened. 'It didn't hurt to see you bent over the bed. It gave me ideas.'

'Oh really? I'd like to hear them.'

He brushed his lips over her ear. 'I believe in show, not tell.'

She hummed, interested. 'We need to finish changing the sheets first.'

'I guess we did make them a little wet.'

She looked over her shoulder and laughed up at him. 'More than a little. Do me a favor and go to the hall closet and get another set. The ones on the top shelf fit this bed.'

He kissed her smiling mouth and reluctantly let her go. The king-sized sheets were exactly where she'd said, the closet meticulously arranged. It appeared that his detective was a bit of a neat freak, which was a relief to see. He was a bit of a neat freak himself.

He took the sheets back into her room and stopped cold again. She was kneeling on the floor beside the bare mattress, her head and one arm under the bed. And her butt pointed straight at him once more.

'Woman, are you trying to kill me?' he whined.

'Zat's under the bed,' she said, making tsking noises. 'Come here, sweetie. Come out.' She sighed and stood up. 'I think we scared him.' Then she shrugged. 'He'll get used to it.'

Marcus dumped the clean sheets on the bed and helped her put on the fitted one. 'He got used to the purple,' he said blandly.

She laughed. 'Poor Zat. But if you think this is bright, you should see the other rooms. I've been working on fixing the outside first. I'll redo the paint inside later. One task at a time.'

'You could hire someone to do it.'

She frowned at him. 'Unlike you, I'm not rich. Plus, it's more mine if I do it myself.'

'I could do it for you,' he offered slyly. 'I can do all kinds of repairs for you. I don't need the money, so you'd have to find other ways to pay me.'

She tried to decide if he was serious. 'Do you know how to repair stuff?'

He tried not to be offended. 'Who do you think builds the houses we use to relocate the families we told you about tonight? Elves in a hollow tree?'

Her eyes widened. 'You build houses?'

'I help. Diesel does, or did before he got busy at the paper. He's built some low-rent housing in the past. I'm mostly just an investor, but he lets me swing a hammer sometimes.'

She lifted a brow. 'Seems like Diesel has a number of diverse talents. Building, hacking, gentle coercion, philanthropy. Where did you meet him?'

'In the army. He saved my life a few times, I saved his. When we got out, we parted ways, but the next thing I knew I'd inherited the paper and needed someone I could trust to help me with my . . . side business. At that point, Stone was working as a freelancer for other papers and was always on assignment out of the country. I knew I could trust Diesel. He hadn't found a job that interested him yet, so he signed on.'

She'd been changing the pillowcases while he talked and now plumped the pillows invitingly before she sat cross-legged on top of the covers and started braiding her hair. 'He sounds like a good friend. I'm glad you have him.'

He sat beside her and captured her hands in his. 'Don't braid it. Leave it down.'

'It's still wet. It'll be all tangled in the morning.'

'So I'll brush it.' He swept his lips over hers. 'Leave it down. It's my fantasy.'

'Oh,' she breathed, then swallowed hard. 'Okay.'

He'd been all set for another round, but right now he just wanted to hold her. He switched off the lights and climbed under the covers, patting the pillow beside him. 'Come here, Scarlett,' he said, intentionally pitching his voice low. The deep breath she sucked in told him that he'd tickled her fantasy too.

'I thought you had ideas.'

'I do, but they'll keep for a little while. I never got to hold you before.'

'Just a minute. Let me check my messages.' She looked at her phone, her brows furrowing. After a moment's hesitation, she put it back down on the nightstand and climbed under the covers with him, snuggling against his side, her head on his shoulder.

'What was that?'

'What?' Her fingertips idly brushed across his chest, playing with the hairs. Even though it sidetracked his focus, he couldn't make himself tell her to stop.

He rubbed her forehead with one finger. 'The message that made you frown.'

She sighed. 'It's about the guard in your condo.'

Fear squeezed his heart. 'Edgar. What about him? Is he . . . ?'

'No, no,' she assured him. 'Last I heard he was still in recovery. This is about the attack. I saw the security tape while I was in Isenberg's office earlier. Edgar had a gun and pulled it on the shooter, but he hesitated, probably because he didn't want to miss and hit Phillip. The shooter was holding a gun on Phillip using his right hand, but in a very smooth move he whipped his right hand around and pushed the gun up under Phillip's chin, then grabbed the guard's gun and shot him with it using his left hand.'

Marcus didn't want to visualize it, but his mind wasn't giving him any choice. 'Ambidextrous, with some martial arts experience.'

'I thought either martial arts or military. Or both. Bottom line, he was smooth. Amazing reflexes. Almost like he'd practiced it or at least had it planned.'

'You think he expected Edgar to pull his gun?'

'I don't know, but the way he held the gun under Phillip's chin gave the camera a perfect view of the make and model.'

'He wanted us to know what he was carrying.'

'Seems like it. After shooting Edgar, he pocketed Edgar's gun and forced Phillip into the elevator. It would have been more efficient for him to keep his left arm around Phillip's throat and use the gun he came in with to shoot the guard rather than the big switch maneuver.'

'But he didn't want to leave a bullet behind.'

'Right. I wasn't going to tell you about it. Didn't think you needed the images in your mind, but Isenberg wants you to look at the video and see if you can ID the shooter. She sent me a link. You probably have a message from her asking you to call her or me.'

He sat up and turned on the light. 'Why did she wait so long to send it to you? They've had that video for hours.'

'In her email she said that they had to clean it up. The video was poor quality. Truthfully, she was probably debating with herself whether or not she wanted you to see it.' She sat up and found the message on her phone. 'I'm not supposed to forward this to you because it's evidence and we can't let it leak to the press yet. Sorry.'

He rolled his eyes. 'What do I have to do to get your boss to trust me?'

'Be a cop and work for her for a couple years. She didn't trust me right away either.' Scarlett winced. 'Sometimes she still doesn't.'

He sighed. 'Just play it.'

She cued it up and handed him her phone. He hit PLAY quickly before he could manufacture a reason to put it off. He flinched when the clip started, his attention riveted to the fear on Phillip's face.

Scarlett rested her head on his shoulder. 'Start it again,' she murmured. 'I know it's hard, but don't look at Phillip. Look at the man's face.'