Deadly Contact. Lara LacombeЧитать онлайн книгу.
He shook his head. “Not tonight, I’m afraid. I don’t want to risk losing my title.”
“Next week, then,” she declared with a regal nod. “You’d better be ready.”
“Next week,” he said, reaching out a hand to seal the deal. “It’s on.”
She grasped his hand and gave it a firm shake, then picked up her bottle and drained the last of her beer. After signaling Danny for another round, she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.
“Don’t tell me you’re tuckered out already,” he teased. “It’s not that late yet.”
She opened one eye and shot him a grin. “I’m old—I can’t help it.”
He snorted. “Yeah, right.”
They fell into an easy conversation, teasing affection underlying their exchanges. James felt a flush of pleasure every time he made Kelly laugh, loving the uninhibited sound of her giggle. He always enjoyed their time together, the way he could let down his guard and talk about anything with her without fear of being judged. She made him laugh, she made him think, but most important, she made their time together fun, something that was in short supply in his life.
After two more drinks, she let out a loud sigh, reaching back for her purse and pulling out her wallet.
“It’s been fun, as always, but I’m gonna head home.” She dropped several bills on the table, then stood and grabbed her jacket.
James hurried to stand, as well. “Let me walk you to the Metro,” he said, digging out his wallet and dropping some money on the table. He caught Danny’s eye and gestured to the money on the table before hurrying to catch up with Kelly.
She stopped by the door and blew the bartender a kiss. “’Night, Danny. See you next week.”
“Good night, Kelly.” He waved at her. “You stay close to James, now, you hear?”
She whirled around, almost bumping into his chest, and reached out to link her arm through his. “Is this close enough?” she asked.
Danny nodded. “That’ll work. You two be careful.”
“We will,” James said, escorting Kelly out the door.
The rain had stopped sometime earlier, and the streetlights reflected off the puddles, making the sidewalk glow. The air was clean and crisp with the scent of rain, and he hoped the walk combined with the fresh air would help sober her up.
She stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk, jerking on his arm to stay upright. “Guess I’m a little tipsier than I thought,” she said with a giggle.
“That’s what happens when you drink car bombs,” he replied. “Here, let me help.” He placed an arm over her shoulder to steady her, meaning to keep the gesture as platonic as possible. His good intentions flew out the window, though, when she snaked an arm around his waist, fitting her body snugly against his side and hooking a finger into his belt loop.
She was warm and soft, and he liked the feel of her pressed against him. Her fingers on the waistband of his pants had his thoughts going off in an entirely inappropriate direction, and he tried to rein them back in to safer territory.
He spent the rest of the walk mentally reciting FBI rules and regulations to keep from fantasizing about the woman under his arm. It wasn’t a foolproof method, but it did prevent his thoughts from getting too far out of line. He nearly sighed with relief when the lighted Metro sign came into view, signaling an end to this most exquisite torture.
They paused at the top of the escalators, and she turned to smile up at him. “Well, James, I hope you have a good night.” She stood on tiptoe to press a smacking kiss against his lips.
It was too much. He had behaved himself during the walk, but the feel of her lips against his caused him to lose his tenuous grip on self-control. Before he realized what he was doing, he grabbed her by the waist and lowered his mouth to hers.
She let out a little “Oh!” of surprise, and he had a split second of doubt before she relaxed against him. Her lips moved under his, and he felt her tongue swipe across his bottom lip; the sensation made his knees wobble.
He deepened the kiss, tasting Guinness and whiskey, reveling in the silky smoothness of her mouth. She pressed closer and he tightened his hold, his hands traveling from her hips to her back, anchoring her into place.
Her hands skimmed down his back, one of them reaching around to squeeze his butt. His hips arched forward in response, and she made a purring sound low in her throat when she felt his erection.
A rude shove forward, accompanied by a muttered “Move!” had him pulling back. A steady stream of people was pouring out of the Metro station, darting around them with various degrees of success. Keeping his hand on her back, James stepped to the side, pulling Kelly with him to take them out of the pedestrian traffic. He had forgotten they were in public, and given her sound of protest and dazed eyes, he’d bet Kelly had forgotten, too.
“My place?” he said, the words flying out of his mouth like bullets from a gun, unstoppable and just as dangerous.
She nodded enthusiastically, with no hint of hesitation or reluctance. Her eyes were clear and bright, her mouth curved up in a sexy smile that made him want to lean in for another kiss.
His condo was about two miles away—too far to walk, especially given the state he was in. He grabbed her hand, leading her toward the curb, and flagged down a taxi.
Kelly reached for his hand after they’d settled in the backseat and the car started to move, pulling it into her lap and turning it over to trace patterns in his palm with her fingertip. He leaned back into the seat, closing his eyes and enjoying the feel of her touch. It had been a while since he’d been with anyone, and he hadn’t realized until now just how much he missed being touched. Not necessarily in a sexual way—he just missed feeling someone else’s body against his, missed the comfort that only came when skin touched skin. He’d read somewhere that babies who weren’t touched regularly failed to thrive, and he understood all too well how that could happen.
Moments later, the car pulled to a stop in front of his building. He fished out a bill for the cabby and helped Kelly to her feet, placing a hand at the small of her back to guide her into the building.
She stood close to him in the elevator, the faint scent of her perfume making him want to bury his nose in her neck to get a better whiff. Honeysuckle and something else warm and subtle. Whatever it was, it was deeply appealing, and he couldn’t wait to run his nose over her body to find where exactly she had applied it.
He ushered her into his condo, their progress momentarily halted by the two cats sitting at the end of the foyer, wearing identical expressions of bored superiority. They mewed at him, then turned and headed for the kitchen, confident he would follow along to feed them.
“You have cats,” she said, a smile in her voice. “Why didn’t I know this?”
He shrugged, at a loss. “It never came up?”
“That’s true. I certainly never expected the big, bad FBI agent to have cats. A dog, maybe, but cats? I’m impressed. What are their names?”
“The black one is Edgar, and the orange one is Eliot. They’re brothers, believe it or not.”
She stared at him for a beat, then threw back her head and laughed. The rich, throaty sound had warmth spreading through his chest, and he reached out to touch her again.
“Let me guess,” she said. “Eliot Ness and J. Edgar Hoover?”
He nodded with a grin, leaning down to kiss her. She stood on tiptoe to bring her mouth closer, but she stopped when she heard another meow from the direction of the kitchen, this time louder and more insistent. “I think they’re hungry,” she said.
He cast her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. Do you mind if I feed them real quick?