“I think I put everything together—you must have forgotten something this afternoon, come back to retrieve it, then gotten stuck in the building when Chip went outside and had a heart attack.”

  “Oh, no! Is he okay?”

  “The cop who called me said he thought he would be.”

  “I hope so. He was very nice, letting me come back in because, yes, I did forget something.” Embarrassed to admit it, since every photographer considered their camera an extension of their own body, she explained, “I left my camera bag and my specialty lens case.”

  He chuckled softly, obviously reading between the lines, knowing he’d flustered her enough to make her forget her equipment. The man had always been a little too perceptive. Damn it.

  This conversation wasn’t going the way it was supposed to. She’d broached the topic, hoping to hear him say he’d climbed into bed with her because he wanted her so desperately.

  Now they were talking about cameras and cops. Ugh.

  The wind howled, and though the temperature hadn’t fallen too much inside, she instinctively curled closer to Ross. They both fell silent, as if totally comfortable with the fact that they’d ended up in bed together by accident—which she still wanted to discuss, by the way.

  But later. Not now. Not when he was so warm and strong, when his breath teased her hair, and his hard thigh fit so nicely between hers. Not when she was trying to breathe ever deeper, intoxicated by the warm, spicy scent of his skin.

  Not when she needed to know if he really wanted her—Lucy Fleming—and not just the female body that happened to be beside him in the bed.

  If he did, Lucy intended to let herself have him. Ross would be the ultimate Christmas present. Just this once, just for tonight.

  As if he knew she had no intention of putting some distance between them, Ross lowered his hand to her wrist, lazily tracing circles on the pulse point. Like he had every right to touch her. Lucy sighed, shocked at how evocative that touch felt. Her already moist sex grew hotter, wetter, as she remembered how those strong but gentle fingers used to slide across her clit, making her come with a few deliberate strokes.

  Stretching, he shifted a little, and she felt the flex of the powerful muscles in his shoulder. She’d noted earlier that his body had changed—he was bigger, broader across the chest and shoulders, though his lean hips would still be easily encircled by her thighs.

  It was far too easy to visualize that. To visualize everything. In fact, she was having difficulty focusing on anything else.

  Without warning, Ross moved his hand, dropping it to her hip, tugging her more tightly against his body. For warmth? For old time’s sake? Because he had nothing better to do?

  Oh, God, he was driving her crazy!

  He continued with that steady, even breathing, remaining silent, and didn’t reveal by word or deed whether he was just killing time or trying to start something.

  Finally, unable to take it anymore, she sat straight up in the bed and glared down at him. “Well, are you going to do something about this?”

  She was asking a lot more than that. Are you interested? Do you feel this? Do you want me?

  He didn’t respond for a second, didn’t reply with a confused, Like what? But then, just when Lucy was about to launch herself out of the bed and call him an idiot, he moved, quickly and deliberately.

  Between one breath and the next, Ross sat up, pushed her onto her back and slid over her, his powerful body pressed hard against hers. His face lowered toward her, and Lucy’s heart thudded with excitement as she saw the hunger in his expression.

  Then he said two words…the only two she wanted to hear.

  “Hell, yes.”

  After that, no words were needed. Her heart flying, all thoughts disappearing, she rose to meet his lips with her own. Their tongues plunged together, frantic, hungry for a connection.

  There was nothing slow and quiet about it. Only driving need and demand. Their hands raced to touch each other, and Lucy hissed when he moved his mouth to her neck and sucked her nape. He nipped lightly and she quivered, wanting that mouth, that tongue, those nibbling teeth, on every inch of her body.

  The Ross she’d made love with all those years ago had been slow, tender and deliberate. This Ross was wild. Desperate. She felt his driving need, and answered it with her own. Emotion had been chased away by lust, and she realized, suddenly, that she’d been waiting for this since long before the moments they’d just spent in his bed.

  She’d longed for years to feel like this, through other affairs and other men. She’d wanted to experience the intense, nearly animalistic passion she felt right now. Deep down, Lucy knew she’d been waiting for him. Ross. Waiting until they met again—as if knowing someday they would—to truly let go of every inhibition, every doubt, every question about her own desirability. To know she was someone’s sexual obsession, if only for one night, one moment in time.

  And she was. He wanted her with every fiber of his being. His desperate touch proclaimed it and her own body was already screaming a silent Yes to every little thing he might ask of her.

  They separated only far enough to remove their clothes. His sweater came off, revealing the goldenskinned chest beneath, and she had to reach out and run the tips of her fingers across his impressive abs. He was built perfectly—broad chest, lean at the waist and hips. Like he’d been the model used to create the prime example of man.

  When his hands touched her waist and began yanking her sweater up, Lucy arched toward him. She heard his low groan when he realized she wasn’t wearing a bra, and even in the near-darkness, could see the look of pure appreciation as he visually devoured her.

  Lucy had been built a little differently six years ago. She’d been more girlish, more lean. Now she was curvier, carrying an extra ten pounds in all the right places…places he obviously liked. A lot.

  “God, you’re gorgeous,” he muttered. Then he bent to her breast, no warning, no hint, his mouth landing on her nipple and sucking hard. As if he couldn’t help himself, had to quench his ravenous thirst with the taste of her.

  “Oh, yes, please,” she groaned.

  She sunk her fingers into his hair, pressing him even harder, needing to feel it, deep down. And with every deep pull of his mouth, she did feel it. All the way down to the throbbing center of sensation between her thighs.

  He leaned over to give her other breast the same attention. Plumping it with his hand, he rolled her nipple between his fingertips before he blew lightly, then suckled her. Lucy cried out at how good it felt. Savoring his attention, she kissed his neck, his shoulder, raking her nails down his bare back, wondering how he could possibly be so strong when he appeared to now be a suit-and-tie kind of guy.

  She wanted to cry when he moved his mouth away again. But she got with the program when he kissed his way down her midriff to the waistband of her jeans, which he quickly unfastened. He backed away, kneeling on the edge of the bed and straightening her legs. Lucy lifted her hips, arching up toward him, helping as he tugged the denim away.

  Thank God she’d been in too much of a hurry to put on long johns or something equally as hideous before she’d left home. Her pink panties weren’t Frederick’s of Hollywood worthy, but they were cute and sexy. And Ross seemed to like them. A lot.

  Or maybe not. Because without a word, he ripped them off her, tearing the fabric. She didn’t give a damn. The hunger in his every movement excited her beyond anything.

  “Gotta taste you, Luce.”

  She had a second to prepare, then his mouth was on her, licking at her core. She actually shrieked, shocked by the raw intimacy. He didn’t carefully sample her, he dove deep, thrusting his tongue into her opening, then up to her clit, then back again. She was whimpering, her hips bucking freely, helpless to do anything but take what he wanted to give. Her first orgasm smashed into her like an earthquake, making her whole body quiver. He didn’t stop, merely holding her hips in his big hands, continuing to lick at her as if he couldn’t get enough.

  Then came the aftershocks—the tsunami—wave after wave of hot, electric delight, popping in little explosions that made her head spin. Colors, instruments, spinning lights—a whole freaking carnival seemed to be taking place all around her, all calliope music and the thrill of spinning and riding until you were breathless and just couldn’t take anymore.

  She couldn’t take anymore.

  “Stop,” she ordered dazedly, knowing she’d reached that point. Pleasure overload. She could barely breathe, her heart was pounding hard enough to burst out of her chest, and she was almost hyperventilating from all the gasping.

  Mostly she was stunned. Shocked.

  Awakened.

  They hadn’t had a lot of time together six years ago, and oral sex was one intimacy they hadn’t shared. She’d been young, a virgin, and he’d been tender and incredibly patient. She suspected that if Ross had ever used his mouth on her like that, she would have stalked him to Chicago.

  Now, she wanted him to feel that same unadulterated freedom. Wanted to give him what she’d never given him before. Not just to please him, but also to make him as absolutely crazy as he had made her.

  More, though, she wanted that intimacy for her own sake. She’d never viewed oral sex as anything more than foreplay, a tit for tat return on a guy’s earlier tongue investment. This time, though, she wanted to take that thick ridge of male heat into her mouth and explore the flavors of his body. Wanted to taste him, explore him, suck his cock until his willpower gave out, or his legs did.

  She scooted away, grabbing his hair and pushing him up. He eyed her from between her legs, his eyes glittering, his mouth moist. “You taste good,” he growled.

  Licking her lips, she murmured, “I bet you do, too.”

  Sitting up, she became the aggressor, stalking him to the end of the bed, until he hopped off it. Eyeing her hungrily, he said nothing as she scooted to the edge, parting her thighs around his legs.

  She was eye level with that wonderful, thick ridge straining against his zipper. Though she felt just as desperate to tear his clothes away, she hesitated, holding her breath. For that moment, she felt like she was about to open a Christmas present—just one, on Christmas Eve, the way she always had as a kid. The excitement of choosing the right one, and the certainty that there would be so many more good things to come all washed over her.

  Catching her lip between her teeth, she unbuttoned his jeans, then eased the zipper down. He hissed as her hands brushed against the cotton of his boxer-briefs. Burying his hands in her hair, he held her tightly, not painfully, yet more forceful than she’d ever expect from him. It felt possessive. Demanding. Unlike the tender Ross she’d known, but perfect for the hungry man who’d eaten her like he’d been served his last meal.

  Pushing the jeans and briefs down, she took a second to admire his cock—strong, erect and powerful. Lucy moistened her lips, then leaned forward and kissed the tip of it, hearing him groan as skin met skin.

  That groan egged her on. She parted her lips, taking him into her mouth, swirling her tongue over and over. She swallowed the hint of moisture his body released, liking the salty taste, wanting a mouthful of it. She didn’t worry that taking him to the edge would cut into what she wanted from him later. Ross was young and vital, and right now he looked like he could easily do her all night long, take a coffee break, then get right back in there and bang her brains out another half-dozen times.

  Her thighs clenched, moisture dripping from her sex, still swollen, maybe even a little sore, from the thorough attention of his mouth.

  She gave him the same attention, sucking hard. He swayed a little, which she took as a good sign. So she took more of him, deeper into her mouth, until she could take no more. Reaching between his legs, she carefully cupped the taut sacs, timing each stroke of her hand with one of her mouth, pulling away, then sucking him deep, over and over.

  His groans deepened. The pace quickened. She knew by the tenseness of those powerful muscles that he was close.

  He stopped. “Uh-uh. I’ve waited six years. No way am I coming in your mouth.”

  Pulling back, he reached into his pocket and grabbed a condom. As he hurriedly donned it, she considered telling him she had the birth control covered. But she figured they should err on the safe side when they were being so impulsive, so crazy.

  Ross shoved his pants completely off, then reached for her. Lucy let him lift her, wrapping her legs around his waist. He held her easily, her bottom cupped in his hands, then backed her against the wall, bracing her between it and his chest.

  She sunk her fingers into his hair, tugging his mouth to hers for a deep kiss. He plunged his tongue deep…then did the same thing with his cock.

  Oh, yes.

  He didn’t move at first, just stood holding her there, impaled on him. She felt her body soften and adjust, taking him completely. Savoring the fullness, she rocked against him, signaling him that he didn’t need to go slow.

  She didn’t want him to go slow.

  “Next time,” he promised.

  “Whatever,” she panted

  Then there were no words. Just hard thrusts of his body into hers. Deeper and deeper, he reached heights no one ever had before. Or maybe she was reaching those heights. It certainly felt like she was flying, almost out-of-body with sensation.

  Moisture fell on her cheeks. Lucy realized she was crying. But not sad tears, God-it-feels-so-good-and-I’ve-waited-so-long tears.

  She closed her eyes, dropped her head back and just took and took and took. The rocking of his groin against hers brought just the right friction and she felt all that familiar pressure boiling up again. Her clit throbbed and swelled. Then the dam burst and she came again.

  “Oh, yes, God, yes.”

  Her words? His? Both?

  She didn’t know. She just knew they were both crying out, both sweating and twisting and thrusting. And finally, both coming.

  He groaned, suddenly growing very still. Lucy kissed him. She could feel his pulse thundering, both against her chest, and where he was inside her, and she found herself wishing she had told him not to bother with the condom. She wanted all that heat bursting into her.

  Fortunately, however, they were just getting started.

  They had time. Plenty of it. Because, judging by the wind battering the building, and the dark snow swirling around the windows, they weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

  8

  Then

  New York, December 24, 2005

  THOUGH ROSS HAD WANTED Lucy to call the police right after Jude had slithered out, he had sensed her desperation to get out of her apartment. She didn’t just want to leave, she needed to. He suspected the place suddenly felt tainted to her, and had to wonder how long it would take before she ever felt safe there again.

  That definitely wouldn’t happen until he got her locks changed. And no way in hell was she staying there alone until then.

  So, after she’d thrown a few things in a bag, they’d headed for his place. After a short walk to his truck, and a long drive out of the city, they arrived in Brooklyn. Every mile put the ugly scene further into the past, and Ross was finally able to begin clearing his mind of the mental images of what might have happened had he not shown up when he did.

  The very idea made him sick. And violence surged up within him when he so much as thought Jude’s name.

  But now it was time to think about something else. Making sure she was okay and felt safe, for one. Wondering what the hell had happened with his life in the past twelve hours for another.

  Nah, he’d think about that tomorrow.

  “Here we are,” he said when he pulled up outside the tiny rental house where he lived. It wasn’t much to look at, but it was a place of his own—a place nobody had helped him get. He didn’t love the location, but he loved not feeling like he owed anything to anybody. Especially his father.

  “I can’t tell you how much I…”

  “Forget it,” he said, waving off her thank you. Probably her twentieth since they’d left her place.

  Reaching into the tiny back compartment of the truck, he grabbed her small suitcase and her camera bag, then got out, going around to open her door. She didn’t wait, hopping out before he had made it around the bumper. “What a cute house!”

  He raised a brow. “Seriously?”

  “Sure. You have a yard and everything. I can’t tell you how much I miss backyard barbecues in the summer.”

  “The last tenant left a grill. Maybe I’ll cook up some burgers tomorrow.”

  She laughed. “In the snow?”

  “You call this snow? Yeesh. Until you’ve experienced a lake effects winter, you don’t know the meaning of snow.”

  “I have,” she told him. “I grew up in Chicago.”

  Shocked, he almost tripped. “Seriously?” The woman he had begun to suspect was the girl of his dreams had grown up in the same city, and he’d never even been aware of her? That seemed wrong on some cosmic level.

  “Uh huh. And even the thought of that windy winter reminds me why I’ll never go back.”

  His heart twisted a little at that admission, but he pushed aside the disappointment. “Yeah, I can’t say I’m missing it right now, either.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever go back?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  Actually he didn’t just think it, he knew it. One of these days, he was going to have to return and face up to his responsibilities. His father wasn’t getting any younger, or any healthier, and not one of his sisters showed any interest in construction.

  Ross, on the other hand, genuinely loved it. He’d had a toy tool set as a kid, had built his first birdhouse at four. By the time he was ten, he had constructed a four-story Barbie house for his kid sister. He just had a real affinity for building things, and had never wanted to do anything else. Some even called it a gift.

  Going away to college, then to grad school, and learning drafting and architecture had just made him better at his craft. More than that, he truly wanted to run the company one day, as his grandfather and now his father always said he would.