She cried out, and he growled, greedily suckling her tongue, suddenly unleashed.
“Jesus.” He fisted handfuls of her hair, drawing her closer to his tasting mouth, cocking his head. “Jesus, Paige, Jesus.”
Butterflies exploded in her stomach. She made an odd little sound of pleasure as he started plunging in and out, in and out, tasting, tasting more.
Driven by an urgency and thirst she hadn’t known, she looped her arms around his neck and melded to him. His tongue was strong, moist, and powerful as he twirled it around hers. She sipped from him with embarrassing vigor, as if trying to suck his essence into her body, so much so that she drew back all of a sudden, startled by her hunger.
Zach growled and backed her up, pinned her against the door with his weight, and ruthlessly dove for her lips once more. “Give me your mouth, Paige.”
Gasping, Paige grabbed handfuls of his hair and let him have it.
An odd gurgling sound rose up in her throat as their thirsty tongues explored. His hands clamped on her waist, holding her still as he intensified the kiss until she thought she’d drown. He searched so far inside her she was certain he was out for her heart.
The biting bulge of his erection scraped against her stomach. Her breasts throbbed where they pressed against his chest. And she thought she would seize this moment, because she was crazy, because she wanted him like she’d never wanted anything in her life. Her pelvis began to move, craving more of him, all of this man, this hunk, this protector.
She bit at his lip and he bit harder, devouring her damp lower lip, whispering, “Sweet, thirsty baby.”
His endearment spilled through her in a lust wave. She whimpered softly when he eased back a fraction, leaving her empty, in agony, in pain.
When he spoke again, running unsteady fingers down her cheek, his breath blew over her face, misty and warm and fragrant. “You want me.”
His eyes. They burned with a passion beyond desire, beyond longing, beyond anything physical or passing.
The wise thing to do would be to disentangle her shivering body from his, but instead she gripped his taut shoulders and fought for an explanation. “Must be the . . . shock.”
His heat singed her, made her yearn to feel it up close, to be burned to a million ashes.
“Shock. Right. Hell.”
Neither of them moved.
She didn’t know whose breath was shallower. Whose body felt tighter, hotter, against the other’s. But she didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to start thinking that no no no she shouldn’t be kissing a man right now, shouldn’t be squirming against him, but nothing had ever felt as good as he did. His mouth. The voracious, unchecked way he kissed her.
Blood thrilling in her veins, spiced with adrenaline, lust, and something indecipherable, she slid her shaking hands down the solid wall of his chest. He inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring, as he watched her with wild, flaming green eyes.
“Paige?”
He sounded puzzled. And he was firm and long and he was pulsing against her stomach. He smelled of sex and wanting. Darkly, avidly gazing down at her as no man, ever, in her life, had looked at her before.
The taut, bunched muscles of his body against hers sent dabs of fire across her belly, little devils of temptation licking her to sin.
She couldn’t voice what was happening to her. “I just . . . want . . . to . . . to kiss you more.”
As though losing some kind of internal battle, he tangled his fingers in her hair. “Christ, come here.”
Positively melting, Paige obeyed. Their lips latched, and they kissed. He groaned. She moaned.
Caressing the back of her head with his fingers, he took a breather for less than a second, realigned their heads, then covered her lips and they kissed some more. Kissed until she didn’t know if days had passed or minutes. Kissed until her mouth was hot and burning from his kiss and the rest of her body rivaled it.
His hands cupped her waist and then didn’t move, only held her still as his mouth did everything. His head moved, his lips moved, his tongue moved. Paige burned to bare her breast to him and ask him to lick it, burned to bare her soul to him and ask him to take it.
“Need to go.” His chest heaved roughly as he spoke. “Need to make you safe.” Setting his forehead against hers, he reluctantly rolled his head. “Just . . . give me a sec.” He took two, three, four breaths releasing another sound of frustration as he pushed away. “Argh. Okay. Let’s go.”
Even minutes later, when they were in his car, Paige couldn’t stop shaking. Zach was speaking to Nordstrom at police headquarters, briefing him on the happenings. Driver wore a black mask, widely built, definitely male, he said.
Paige hadn’t been able to see one whit, had been blinded by the headlights, the fear.
He’d barely hung up with Nordstrom, who was supposed to call if he knew anything else, when his phone vibrated at his hip. “Rivers,” he snapped. And went on to relate the same to another caller.