One-Night Alibi Page 14

  Which reminded Liz of why they’d come here tonight. “Did you find out anything from the pimp?”

  “No. He doesn’t know where Jazz is, either. He said she owes him money. He also said other people have been looking for her, but I didn’t get a chance to find out who.”

  “Ugh. All that for nothing.”

  “That’s how police work goes. You talk to a zillion people, ask ten zillion questions—most of it goes nowhere. You just have to hope that lucky break is around the next corner.”

  “What about my dad’s computer? Mitch said he’d get a ton of leads from it and I haven’t heard a thing.”

  “He’s still trying to break the security. Apparently it requires fingerprint recognition before it will open. Beth picked up some of your father’s prints from the case, and the two of them are trying to make up a facsimile that will fool the computer.”

  “Sounds like James Bond stuff.”

  When they got to her building, she gave him her passkey to get into the parking garage. “Do you see anyone hanging around that might be watching my building?” There were cars parked up and down the street, at least half of them with dark-tinted windows.

  “Could be anybody. At least I don’t see the Subaru.”

  He parked his car in the space belonging to a neighbor who was out of town. He got out first, checking to make sure no one was lurking behind parked vehicles or one of the concrete support columns. Then he opened Elizabeth’s door and took her hand as she exited the car.

  He didn’t let go of her hand. She used her passkey again to get them onto the elevator and they ascended to the fifth floor. This reminded her of when she’d been a teenager, sneaking around with her high-school boyfriend because she knew her father didn’t like him. David had come to the house only once, when her father was traveling on business and the servants had gone home or retired to their quarters for the evening.

  She’d thought they were being so clever. She hadn’t realized then her father routinely reviewed the home’s security-camera footage. The oddly sudden breakup had happened shortly after that night.

  Elizabeth was embarrassed when they entered her apartment because those dead orchids still sat on her dining-room table, droopy and brown, dropping petals everywhere. She set down her purse, then moved to stand in front of the sad arrangement.

  “It’s time I retired these,” she said decisively.

  “You don’t have to on my account. Grief has its own timetable, and I’m not judging.”

  “No, it’s time.”

  “Why don’t you go see about dinner. I’ll take care of this for you. Okay?”

  She liked that he didn’t simply bulldoze over her wishes, that he waited for her to agree before he started stuffing dead flowers down the trash chute.

  “Sure. Thanks. Pasta or pizza? Or I could bake a couple of chicken breasts.”

  “Whatever’s easiest. I’m not picky.”

  She turned toward the kitchen. “Wine? I’ve only got white. That’s probably not your drink of choice.”

  “I guess I’m easy to predict, huh?”

  “You were drinking beer at the wedding.”

  “I’ll take wine. I need to broaden my horizons.”

  Elizabeth actually found herself humming as she got out two wineglasses and opened a bottle of Pinot Grigio she had chilling in the fridge. Hudson had followed her to the kitchen, but only to get a trash bag.

  He rejoined her a few minutes later, found the glass she’d poured for him on the breakfast bar and took a sip. “Not horrible. I bet this is some superexpensive wine, huh?”

  “You have the funniest ideas about me.” Deciding her leftovers wouldn’t be enough to feed both of them, she’d put a pot of water on to boil. Now she opened a bag of rotini noodles and dumped them into the pot. She’d already put some seasoned meatballs from the freezer into the microwave. Now she added those to jarred sauce in a pan. “I get that wine at the grocery store. It’s about five dollars a bottle.”

  “Oh. It’s nice.”

  He was probably just being polite.

  An awkward silence settled over them as she poked at the pasta with a wooden spoon. This was so wrong. He shouldn’t be here. The stakes were higher than when she was in high school. She wasn’t just risking getting a lecture from her father. Their lives hung in the balance.

  Yet she couldn’t bring herself to ask him to leave, to request that he contact her only through Project Justice. She craved him—and not just his body. For the first time in her life, she truly understood some of the urges that her clients claimed they couldn’t resist, urges that got them into hot water.

  Elizabeth’s glass of wine disappeared in record time as she stood over the boiling pot, willing the pasta to be done. Hudson refilled her glass and then his own. Finally the timer beeped and Elizabeth turned off the burner and poured the pasta into a colander. She served up the rotini in large, shallow bowls with a generous portion of sauce and a sprinkle of Parmesan. Salad greens from a bag and bottled dressing completed the simple meal, which they carried into the breakfast nook, where a window afforded them a view of the city at night.

  Hudson took a bite. “Mmm. Not bad.”

  “It’s better than a frozen dinner and not much trouble to fix.” She sampled the pasta and nodded appreciatively. She was glad to be putting some food into her stomach; the wine was already going to her head. Or maybe it was Hudson making her woozy. No meal was going to fix that.

  “You like living in the city?” He gazed out the window at the festive display of urban lights outside.

  “Yeah, I do. I like the energy of it. I have my privacy, but I also have people all around me.”

  “I can see the appeal. I mean, you’re so close to everything. But I can’t imagine living so far from trees and water.”

  Yet another thing that made them incompatible.

  “I see the appeal of your place, too. But I’m not sure I could get used to listening to crickets all night long. I’m so used to sirens and trucks and helicopters.”

  He smiled at that. “Sometimes it’s too quiet at the lake,” he agreed, surprising her. “I never thought that until I had to spend a week there off work. I got pretty stir-crazy. There’s only so many nature walks a guy can take before he goes bonkers. I even thought about getting a dog.”

  “I love dogs,” she said wistfully. “I’ve thought about getting one, too, but it wouldn’t be fair to leave it home alone all day.”

  “What kind would you get?”

  “Something small, probably.”

  “One of those little dust-mop things?” He wrinkled his nose.

  “Oh, I suppose you’d want a pit bull. Or a big, slobbery Labrador retriever.”

  “Actually, I think I’d get a boxer. We had a boxer when I was a kid. Her name was Dixie.” He smiled fondly as he stared out the window, obviously revisiting his long-ago furry friend in his mind.

  Elizabeth’s heart flipped over. How could she resist a guy who liked dogs?

  “You’ve got tomato sauce on your chin,” she said.

  “Hmm? Oh.” He swiped at his face with his napkin, missing the spot altogether.

  “Here.” She took her own napkin, reached across the table and started to dab at the small spot of sauce. But before she could actually do it, the strangest urge overtook her. She stood and moved to stand directly in front of him, then slowly leaned down and kissed the sauce from his chin, perilously close to his mouth.

  She heard and felt his sharp intake of breath. He was probably as surprised as she was by what she’d just done. But it didn’t take him long to get over the shock. He pulled her into his lap and locked his mouth over hers.

  The wine couldn’t hold a candle to the intoxication of Hudson’s kisses. It was even better than she remembered, being in his arms, sharing body heat, sharing the same breath. She could feel his pulse everywhere she touched him—his neck, his chest. It seemed as if their pulses were synchronized.

  The kiss went on and
on, and when she pulled away to gasp in some air, he kept kissing her, moving to her jaw, tickling her ear with his tongue.

  “You are playing a very dangerous game, missy,” he said in a voice that was oddly strangled.

  “It’s no game.” Nothing she’d done in the past five minutes was calculated, and she couldn’t bear it if he thought that. “I just seem to lose all self-control where you’re concerned.”

  “I’m a little short on control myself.” He grabbed her ponytail to hold her steady and kissed her again. Though he stopped short of hurting her, she couldn’t miss the command in his gesture. She had awakened a potentially dangerous sexual animal. Turning back now was out of the question. Pandora’s box was wide-open and all sorts of trouble had just come flying out.

  Hudson moved his chair back from the table, and Elizabeth repositioned herself to straddle him. The pressure of his erection between her thighs sent currents of electric pleasure coursing through her whole body. He slid the zipper down on her shirt—just as she’d fantasized—and pushed it off her shoulders, then brushed his lips against her collarbone. Even that simple gesture was ridiculously thrilling.

  “I’m betting,” she said between kisses, “that you’re a man with a condom in his pocket.”

  “Why do you think that?” He didn’t confirm or deny.

  “Because if a guy senses even the smallest chance that he might get laid, he does whatever he can to up the odds.”

  He made no reply to that, choosing instead to dip his head and press soft, warm lips against the tops of her breasts. Her nipples tingled in response, hardening inside her bra so that she wanted to rip the garment off. She almost did.

  “So, do you?” she prompted. Truth was, she had condoms, too. She’d bought some the day after her fling with Hudson simply because she never wanted to be caught without any protection, though she hadn’t seriously dated anyone in a long time.

  When she’d made the purchase, she’d fantasized about finding herself in just this situation. But she didn’t want Hudson to know that. This thing between them, whatever it was, was too new, and she would be the first to admit she was too inexperienced to know how to handle it.

  Case in point: an hour ago she’d told him she wasn’t interested in continuing their relationship—or whatever it was. Yet here she was.

  “What if I don’t?”

  “We’ll cope— Oh, do that again.”

  “What, this?” He brushed his fingertips along her nape, soft as a dragonfly’s wings.

  Her whole body went liquid. “That’s the thing.” Without meaning to, she pumped her hips back and forth, increasing the friction against her clit. If she wasn’t careful, she would come apart right here at the breakfast table, fully clothed. Well, almost fully clothed. The shirt was gone, though she didn’t remember him taking it off. She sat there in a sinfully sexy, shell-pink bra she’d carefully selected because it always made her feel feminine.

  And because it had matching panties that were held together at the hip with nothing but tiny satin bows. Oh, Lord, maybe she hadn’t consciously planned this, but on some level she must have known it was going to happen.

  Warmth pooled between her legs, and if she didn’t get her clothes off in the next thirty seconds they were going to combust.

  He pulled the elastic band out of her hair, his actions gentle despite his obvious impatience. Once her hair was free, she shook her head and it fell around her shoulders. He pressed his face into it.

  “You smell like a fresh-fruit stand—did you know that?”

  She took that as a compliment.

  “Bedroom?” she squeaked.

  “Now you’re talking.” With what seemed like very little effort he stood, carrying her with him. She wrapped her legs around him and locked her ankles and kissed him the whole way to the bedroom. He didn’t require directions; it wasn’t a big apartment, and knowing Hudson, he’d probably scoped it out while she was busy in the kitchen.

  He nudged the bedroom door open with his foot and moved through the darkened room as if he’d been there before. Two more steps and she found herself on her back on the bed with Hudson a welcome weight on top of her. Her senses were filled with him—the smell of his skin, the feel of his demanding mouth on hers, the soft, springy texture of his hair as she dug her fingers through it.

  Quickly he found the front clasp of her bra and brushed the garment aside. Just enough ambient light streamed through her window that she could see the contours of his face and neck, and she knew he could see her, as well. She wanted to be naked for him. With a wantonness that shocked her—still—she wanted him to see her head to toe. She wanted to see appreciation and raw lust in his eyes, the way he’d been the first time they were together.

  Apparently he had the same thought, because moments later he was tugging her shoes off, unzipping her jeans. She accommodated him by lifting her hips off the mattress as he slid jeans and panties down her legs. So much for the matching lingerie; he’d have to appreciate that some other time.

  Would there be another time? No, she couldn’t worry about that now. They were together in this moment, and though she had no guarantees he wouldn’t walk out the door in an hour or two never to return, she was going to give this her all. No playing it safe.

  She shrugged out of her bra while Hudson peeled off his own clothes lightning fast, hurling them all over the place, though his gaze never left her. He was breathing hard by the time they were both finally naked.

  “Liz...”

  “What?” She wasn’t sure what she wanted him to say, but she wanted to know what he was thinking.

  “Nothing. I just... I’m overwhelmed by this, by you. I never expected...”

  “I know—me, too. Try not to overthink it.”

  “Making love to you is like standing in a hurricane-force wind and trying to grab on to it.”

  She reached up to caress his face. Who knew the tough cop with the surfer-boy looks could be so poetic? “Ride it out,” she said with a grin.

  He grinned back. “I will. Don’t rush me.”

  “A hurricane can last for hours and hours.”

  Hudson lay down next to her and pulled her on top of him. He kissed her until she was dizzy and gasping for air; he ran his hands from the top of her head to the tops of her thighs, pausing to grasp her bottom and squeeze her cheeks, then tried to span her waist with his hands.

  “You feel fragile,” he said between long, insistent kisses. “I’m surprised you don’t break, the way I manhandle you.”

  “I’m stronger than I look.” And he’d been nothing but gentle with her. Insistent, commanding, but always gentle. To prove she was no china doll, she rolled over and pulled him on top of her, relishing the feel of his whole body, hot and hard, in contact with the length of her, his impossibly hard arousal pressing against her belly. Her womb contracted, sending ripples of pleasure up and down her body, a precursor to the pleasure peaks she craved.

  Where was that condom? Had he left it in his pants pocket? Then she spied it next to the pillow. She reached to the side and grabbed it, then tore open the package behind Hudson’s back as he nuzzled her neck and nibbled her earlobe.

  “What’re you doing?” he asked, sounding mildly curious but unwilling to be distracted as his kisses moved toward her breast.

  “The condom. I’m ready.”

  “Don’t rush me.” He locked his mouth onto her right nipple and suckled, swirling his tongue until he brought the rosy bud to an almost-painful peak. But not truly painful. The sensation made her squirm with delight.

  Wasn’t it the man who usually rushed? It was, at least in her limited experience. How novel to make love with a man who knew the meaning of foreplay. The whole nature of this evening was different than their first time, when they hadn’t known each other. He was letting her see more of his personality, and she was far less guarded. She’d been a brazen hussy at the wedding, but that was something of a facade, giving her the false courage she needed to seal the d
eal with what she was sure would be a one-night stand. Tonight she was less on guard, and her enjoyment had at least doubled.

  He might not want to rush, but she needed to feel him inside her. She was going to burst into tears if he didn’t fulfill that need pretty damn snappily. With that in mind, she reached down and grasped his erection.

  His gasp of momentary surprise was gratifying.

  “Remember, I’m the hurricane,” she said with a wicked grin.

  “You sure as hell are.”

  “If you want to play some more, you can do it after you see to my pleasure.”

  “I thought I was seeing to your pleasure.”

  “You’re driving me insane is what you’re doing.” She playfully pushed him off her and onto his back, then quickly sat up and straddled his thighs. He laughed at her antics as she poised the condom over him, but the laughter died into a groan as she slowly sheathed him, taking her time despite her own impatience. When all was properly in place, she raised up on her knees, intending to lower herself onto him.

  “Uh-uh, I get to ride the storm.” Before she could blink he had her on her back again, proving any advantage she thought she had over him was pure illusion. He inserted his hands between her thighs and opened her like a flower, dipping his head to give her one feathery kiss and a flick of his tongue, a simple gesture that stole all the air out of her lungs.

  He was good.

  Hudson took his time entering her. She was beyond trying to exert any control. He was firmly the master of this dance now, and she was the one along for the ride, letting him take or give pleasure however he saw fit.

  She felt every delicious inch of him as he buried himself inside her, and she gloried in the tense expression on his face as he fought for control—not of her, but his own body. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling their bodies even closer, and he kissed her long and hard once again.

  Then he started to move.

  Every thrust was a revelation. Just when she thought it couldn’t get better, it did. She was genuinely high, as if she’d taken a powerful drug. The whole room spun like the craziest amusement-park ride ever. She was vaguely aware that she cried out, but she had no control over that at all. She was exploding in a warm, syrupy orgasm like nothing she’d ever imagined. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her.