Dying to Please Read online

  He would have made it last the rest of the night, if he could have. As it was he stopped whenever he felt his orgasm building, lying still until the urge subsided then slowly stroking again. All the while he was kissing her, caressing her, telling her he loved her as he coaxed her from acceptance to response. He had never concentrated on a woman before as he concentrated now on Sarah, alert for every nuance, every caught breath, every shift of her legs. He'd always been hyperaware of her when they made love, but this was even more so. He felt as if his very survival depended on loving her now, on reforging the link his suspicion had broken.

  It was a long time happening, but finally her hips began to move to meet him, and her fingers dug into his shoulders. He kept his pace slow, loving the feel of her tightening around him as if she was trying to hold him inside. The pulse at the base of her throat was hammering, and her nipples were tight, flushed with color. Tension coiled in her finely honed body, lifting her to every inward thrust, her legs sliding around his and locking in that way she had of holding him in, as if she couldn't get enough of him.

  Her head tilted back, a groan sounding deep in her throat.

  He pushed deep, held there, and felt her begin coming. He was so close, had been on the edge for so long, that he began coming, too, as soon as he felt the first contraction around him. He tried not to thrust, tried to hold himself still and deep for her pleasure, and his own pleasure spread through him like hot melted wax.

  She lay beneath him, breathing hard, and tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes to streak into the hair at her temples. “I can't believe I did that,” she choked out.

  Struggling for breath, he propped on his elbow and wiped his thumb across her wet cheek. “I'd undo the day if I could,” he said hoarsely. “God, I'm so sorry. It isn't just that I'm a cop; after I was such a stupid fool trusting Shannon, I—”

  “I'm not your ex-wife!” she shouted furiously, and shoved against his shoulders. “I don't give a damn what she did. Get . . . off me, damn it; your badge is scratching my stomach!”

  Ah, shit. He rolled off her and flopped on his back. He was still wearing his holster, too. He guessed he was lucky she hadn't pulled his pistol and shot him.

  She jackknifed to a sitting position and glared down at him, her face still wet with tears. “I'll say this for you,” she said bitterly, “you've taught me a lesson. It'll be a cold day in hell before I trust—” She stopped herself, letting her breath out in a long, weary sigh. “Oh, God. I sound just like you.”

  He got up and went into the bathroom, washing and straightening, tucking his shirt into his pants. Sarah got up and came to stand beside him, unconcerned about her nakedness as she washed her face, then wiped away the results of their lovemaking. Their eyes met in the mirror.

  “I love you,” he said. “That isn't going to change.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “The hell of it is, I still love you, too. I just can't get past this right now.”

  “I can wait.” He smoothed her hair back, stroked her cheek. “As long as it takes. But don't throw us away. Don't make any drastic decisions. Give it time, and let's see what happens.”

  She stared at him in the mirror, and sighed as if in defeat. “All right. For now. I hope I wouldn't have let you make love to me if there was nothing left, so I have to think maybe there is. Just . . . give me some room, okay? Let me get some of myself back.”

  He took a deep breath. He felt as if he'd won the lottery, or a stay of execution. Something.

  She made a wry face. “I don't know if it's drastic, but I've already made a hasty decision. I already have another job.”

  He felt blank with shock. “What? How? Here?”

  “Yes, here. It's someone I'd already met, and he'd offered me the job. He was coming into the hotel this afternoon and saw me, and he made the offer again on the spot. I took it.”

  “What's his name?”

  “Trevor Densmore.” Her voice was weary, all her temporary energy fading fast.

  He didn't remember the name. “Have I already checked him out?”

  “No, his name wasn't on my list of possibles.”

  “Then why take the job now, if you wouldn't consider it before?”

  “It's a place to hide,” she said simply.

  CHAPTER 27

  SARAH WOKE THE NEXT MORNING ACHING FROM HEAD TO toe. She lay in bed, trying to think of a reason why she should get up today. Though she had slept deeply, she felt as exhausted as she had when she'd gone to bed the night before. The wee-hours visit from Cahill hadn't helped, either.

  She'd sent him home, afterward. He hadn't wanted to go, but she supposed he thought he'd won all the victories he was going to win that night. He did take her truck keys so that he could have it picked up and delivered to her. She suspected he'd do it himself; he was in major suck-up mode, and she didn't know if that made her happy or made her want to cry. Maybe both.

  She still couldn't believe she'd let him make love to her, not with things the way they were between them. But he'd been achingly gentle, and she had so badly needed to be held. The scent of his body was warm and familiar, excitingly male; she knew all the details of that body so well, from the sandpaper texture of his jaw to the shape of his toes. She'd wanted nothing more than to curl up in his arms and find oblivion, so when he actually did take her in his arms, she caved with embarrassing speed.

  He'd never before been so gentle, or so slow. She had gone to sleep with her body still tingling deep inside. But now she ached, her muscles knotting into cramps.

  “Damn,” she muttered, wanting to roll over and bury her face in the pillow again. Her menstrual period had started; that's why she was cramping, why she felt so achy. It was right on time, so she shouldn't have been caught unawares, but the trauma of the day before had knocked everything else out of her mind.

  Groaning, she rolled out of bed. Thank goodness Cahill had brought over all her personal stuff, or else she'd have been in a pickle. She sorted through the bags until she found the one containing the supplies she needed, then she shuffled into the bathroom for a long, hot shower.

  She felt as if she should be doing something, but there was nothing to be done. This wasn't the same situation she'd been in with Judge Roberts's family; she had known them, grown close to them, and they'd depended on her. She had never even met the Lankfords' two daughters, Bethany and Merrill. Her heart ached for them, but she was an outsider, and even if they had wanted her to help she didn't know if she was capable of giving it. Not this time. Not now. She was too emotionally battered, too drained.

  After she finished showering, she was shaking with exhaustion, but more than sleep, she needed to be with someone who loved her unconditionally, someone who was always there. She dug her cell phone from her purse, turned it on, and called her mother.

  “Oh, hi, sweetie,” her mother said. She sounded unusually frazzled. Sarah's mother was normally an oasis of calm, a master of organization. Sarah was instantly alert.

  “Mom? What's wrong?”

  To her dismay, her mother burst into tears, but she controlled them almost immediately. By that time, though, Sarah was on her feet in alarm. “Mom?”

  “I wasn't going to call any of you just yet, but your father had some chest pains last night. We spent the night in the ER; they did some tests and they said he didn't have a heart attack—”

  Sarah's breath whooshed out of her, and she sat back down. “Then what's wrong with him?”

  “We don't know. He's still hurting a little, though you know him, he still has that Marine mentality that he's going to tough this out. I've made him an appointment with an internist for later this afternoon for a physical and to schedule some more tests.” Her mother took a deep breath. “I suppose I wouldn't be so scared if he hadn't always been so healthy. I've never seen him in pain the way he was last night.”

  “I can be there on an afternoon flight—” Sarah began, then stopped, wondering if she could leave. What had Cahill told her before, after J