Page 64 of Hot Pursuit
A passionate kiss in the heat of the moment was one thing, but a decision, a choice, made consciously, fully aware of where it would lead, was quite another. They both knew exactly what they were doing. And somehow, that made every touch burn, every momentary glance sear, every fleeting second stretch, longer and longer. There was a unique sort of sexiness in knowingly choosing each other, something different from getting lost in the moment, something infinitely deeper and infinitely more intense, and it went without saying as the temperature rose between them. Their hands danced. Their eyes met across too far a distance, both gazes full of the heady desire of knowing exactly where the night would take them.
“Tell me about after,” Jo whispered. After the interviews. After the paperwork. After the weeks of hurt and confusion, when the whole mess was done, and she was free, and her criminal days were long behind her, and there was nothing tangible tying them together, what then?
This time, Nate understood exactly what she meant. He didn’t look down. He didn’t back away. He held her gaze, eyes bright and hopeful. “You could stay with me, for a while, if you want to. While you’re getting back on your feet.”
The moment she handed her father over to the Feds, she’d lose everything. All her possessions would be confiscated as evidence. All her bank accounts would be frozen. She’d be starting over again, no assets, no family, no support system to help her. His offer meant more than he knew. She squeezed his fingers tight, a small smile on her lips. “Oh, and what sort of place does a single federal agent constantly on the move live in? I’ve become accustomed to a certain standard, you know.”
Her tone was teasing.
His expression was too. “Well, we can’t all live on private islands. Some of us have to make do with one-bedroom apartments, but I can promise it’ll be clean. And I live close to downtown DC. Lots to see, lots to do, enough to keep even you entertained, I’d imagine.”
An image infiltrated her thoughts. His bed was probably perfectly made, one pillow, maybe two, because he was a man, after all. The sheets were probably blue. The comforter too. Though maybe there was a red stripe in the mix somewhere—he did have that all-American vibe. If she snooped through his drawers, she would bet anything his clothes were perfectly folded, neatly organized. His kitchen was probably pristine, nothing but take-out boxes in his fridge, the sort of spot begging for someone like her to come around and put it to good use.
Typical.
Perfectly typical.
“I’d need a new computer,” she murmured, undertone undeniably goading.
He lifted a brow.
She shrugged. “For applying to culinary school, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
“But I think it could work,” she commented, tone light, though his probing gaze seemed to pick up on the deeper emotions swirling in the back of her thoughts. Could he see the pictures flashing? Jo in an apron and nothing else, waiting to greet him when he got home. Nate surprising her at the bakery where she worked because he’d just returned from an overseas assignment. Jo curled against his side as he studied paperwork for a new case and she brainstormed the latest rendition of the coopie. Nate kissing the sugar from her cheeks as they stumbled down the hall to that one bedroom they would share.
He rubbed his thumb over her palm a final time as the cab pulled to a stop. “It could work.”
Then he dropped her hand and pushed her door open so she could get out while he paid. Nate joined her a moment later, pressing his palm to the small of her back, always teasing with his touch, exploring her curves, roving over her skin, moving, constantly moving, so there was no break in the tingles spreading and sparking with uncontained fire.
Jo held on to the beautiful dream of after as they made their way through the lobby and into the elevator, as they rose higher and higher, alone yet not quite, waiting a tantalizing wait until they were inside his room, no cameras, no people, no one but each other.
They paused just beyond the doorway.
No need to rush.
Nothing but time.
Nate lifted his hand to her cheek and brushed the backs of his fingers against her skin, as though she were the most precious thing in the world, a gift he couldn’t believe he’d received, a treasure he couldn’t believe he’d found. Jo lifted her hands to gently tug on the knot of his bowtie until it came free. She slid it around his neck, letting it fall to the floor, never once releasing his gaze as she reached back up to slip his jacket off his broad shoulders, feeling his muscles writhe beneath her gentle touch. And then she went for his buttons, slipping the collar loose, then the one below, the one below, down and down and down, until a taunting inch of his skin was revealed from his throat to his navel. They paused, breathing deeply, as though somehow, they both knew it would be their last taste of air for a while.
Jo moved first, pressing her palms to his chest as he inhaled sharply, her touch as burning as his simmering skin, too hot to handle, a fire she couldn’t stop herself from stoking. Jo ran her hands up his smooth chest, pushing the shirt from his shoulders, feeling every contour of hard muscles as her fingers gripped his biceps and traced the cut edges all the way to his wrists. His cufflinks dropped to the floor with two softthuds, followed by the silent flutter of his shirt. As she stared at the firm ridges of his abdomen, the deep V disappearing into the line of his pants, Nate reached for her hips, found the zipper to her dress, and pulled it down. His hands slid beneath the fabric, the rough calluses scratching in the right way as his fingers traveled slowly up her sides, grazing the edges of her breasts, not stopping until he reached the straps balanced carefully on her shoulders. Nate pushed them to the side and let gravity do the rest as her dress slid all the way to the floor. His eyes followed, tracing every inch of her body in the moonlight coming through the window, gaze as tangible as a soft caress, turning her blood molten. She sucked in sharply, finding it difficult to breathe.
Those baby-blues found her again, hooded with passion.
The moment stretched as the temperature around them flared.
They were two objects on a crash course, stuck in that indefinite moment before the inevitable, where time seemed to stop and hover, both aware that in a split second everything was about to change, but there was nothing to do but hold tight and give in and ride the wave.
Jo’s throat went dry.
Unable to stop her defenses from flaring, she parted her mouth. “Better in person, huh?”
Nate lifted his hand and ran his thumb across her lower lip. “You’re beautiful.”
“Well—” she started, but the earnestness in his eyes made her pause, overwhelmed.
“You’re perfect, Jo,” he whispered. “You’re perfect.”
