Hotshot (Buchanan-Renard #11)

Hotshot (Buchanan-Renard #11) Page 14

“It’s still nice and hot,” she said. She placed the plate in front of him and sat down across from him.” Does it look appealing? You won’t hurt my feelings if you say it doesn’t, but does it? What do you see when you look at it?” She picked up her pen and waited for his answer.

He laughed. “Food, Peyton. I see food.”

Finn didn’t particularly like grits—he would never order them in a restaurant—but he took a bite of Peyton’s and changed his mind. The dish was delicious. It was spicy, yet not overly so, and there was just the right amount of heat.

“It’s really good,” he praised.

She was pleased. “I thought it was, but everyone’s taste buds are different. I’m glad you like it.”

The second entrée wasn’t quite as good, but he still ate all of it. She asked a few questions about the flavor, found the recipe she’d written, and crossed it off. Then she served the chicken. He told her it was okay. She thought it was bland and marked that recipe off her list as well.

“I don’t eat a lot of rich food,” he said. He picked up his plate and took it to the sink. “When I competed, food was fuel. I got used to bland, I guess.”

Peyton picked up a round tin container from the shelf and put it on the table.

“Food doesn’t have to be drenched in rich sauce to be good.”

He rolled his sleeves up and rinsed his plate. Then he tried to find the dishwasher.

“There isn’t one,” she said. “Leave the dishes. I’ll wash them later.”

“Let’s do them now, and you can tell me about France. Did you like it there?”

“How did you know I went to France? Surely not my mother.”

He was bent over the sink scrubbing a pan, splashing water everywhere. “Ivy told me. Why not your mother?”

“Cooking isn’t something she can brag about. I majored in English lit and journalism, and she can’t understand why I turned my back on all that education to cook instead. I’m a disappointment,” she ended with a dramatic sigh.

He rinsed the pan and handed it to her to dry. She patted the front of his shirt with a towel first. “You’re getting water everywhere,” she said. “I loved France. It’s a beautiful country.”

She talked about the culinary institute and Chef Jon and told him a few amusing stories about some of the students. The kitchen was cleaned up in little time. Finn grabbed another bottle of water and went to get his phone from his coat pocket so he could show her some photos from the wedding reception. She picked up the tin and followed him to the living room. He sat beside her on the sofa, scrolled through the camera roll on his phone, and handed it to her. The first photo was of a grinning Beck holding Ivy in his arms.

“He looks like he’s bench-pressing her,” she remarked.

All the photos showed happy couples celebrating with Tristan and Brooke.

“I wish I’d been there,” she said. She was handing the phone back to him when it rang. She saw who was calling and so did he. When he declined the call, she asked, “Who’s Danielle?”

He didn’t immediately answer. She nudged him.

“She’s a woman I used to date. That’s all.”

“The one you almost married?”

He nodded.

His relationship with Danielle was none of her business, but it still bothered her. “Why is she calling?”

“She wants to reconnect. I don’t,” he said, and before she could think of another question, he asked, “What’s in the tin?”

She wanted to talk about Danielle. What did she look like? What did she do for a living? Had he loved her? She didn’t ask any of those questions, though. She discussed cookies instead.

“Inside are chocolate cookies for dessert if you’d like. I make them for the restaurant. People say they’re addictive. They’re always asking to buy extra to take home.”

“I don’t usually eat dessert, but I’ll try one.”

She removed the lid and let him take one. “Be careful. They come with a warning,” she teased.

“That they’re addictive?”

“No, that there’s a slip of paper inside with a little note. It wouldn’t kill you if you ate it, but it’s best not to.”

“Like a fortune cookie?”

“No, those are clever sayings. Some of my cookies have notes; some don’t. The diner chooses.”

“Who writes the notes?”

“I do,” she answered. “They’re my words of wisdom,” she added with a smile. “Lessons I’ve already learned. Don’t laugh at me. I’ve learned a lot in the past five years.”

“Give me an example.”

“Turn the cookie over, and if there’s a note, you’ll see the end of the paper.”

There wasn’t a note. That was a shame because at the moment she couldn’t think of a single word she’d written. It was his fault. Sitting so close to him, looking into his eyes, made it difficult to hold a thought. She kept getting distracted.

She loved his smile, and she loved how protective he was. When she was a little girl, she knew he would watch out for her, and when she was in high school and at the university, she knew that if she ever really got into trouble, all she had to do was call him, and he would help her. Yes, he was FBI, and he was trained to catch the bad guys and keep the good ones safe, but it was more than that. He was Finn, and in her heart he was still that hero. She hoped one day he’d realize she would always be there for him, too.

“Peyton?”

“Yes, the notes,” she remembered. “Let’s see. Don’t trust a man who comes to dinner with a ferret in his pocket. That’s one.”

Finn’s phone buzzed, indicating he had a text. He put the cookie back in the tin and quickly read the message.

She wanted to ask if the text came from Danielle.

“Mark wants to talk to you. You haven’t called him yet, have you?”

“Who’s Mark?”

“Mark Campbell, the attorney. I wrote his name and phone number—”

“Oh yes, the attorney.” She closed the tin and put it on the table. “How much does he charge for a consult?”

“It’s free advice. He has some suggestions for you.”

She didn’t want to talk about the attorney now. She wanted him to kiss her. How could he resist? She was such a seductress with her baggy clothes, her limp hair, and no makeup. How could he keep his hands off her?

“Mimi called today,” she said. She sat back against the cushions. “They’re all back home. Randolph and Drew and Eileen, the big happy family. It will be mighty interesting to see what happens tomorrow when Drew returns to work. I worry that he will hire my replacement. She could be in the same predicament I was, and what if she doesn’t have a way out? What if she can’t leave? She would be trapped with him.”

“I’m glad you’re going to stop him,” he said as he stood.

She thought he was planning to leave, and she wanted him to stay. “I was wondering,” she began hesitantly.

“Yes?”

“If I comb my hair, will you kiss me?”

He didn’t say a word. He stared into her eyes for several seconds, and then his gaze moved to her mouth. Slowly he pulled her to her feet and wrapped her in his arms. He didn’t kiss her right away but held her against him. His hands stroked her back, sliding under her thick sweatshirt.

Finn loved the softness of her warm skin. His hands moved up, and when he realized she wasn’t wearing a bra, he groaned and wanted to pull the shirt off and cover her with his body. She kissed the pulse at the base of his neck, then kissed his chin. “This is crazy,” he said, his voice a rough whisper.

The day’s growth of whiskers tickled Peyton’s lips. She rubbed her cheek against his, inhaling his masculine scent, and sighed, “If you don’t want to—”

“Oh, I want to,” he said. Taking her face in his hands, he covered her mouth with his. His tongue sank inside, coaxing a response. She was soon trembling and wanting more.

She loved the taste of him, loved the way his mouth felt sealing hers. When at last he ended the kiss and lifted his head, the intensity in his expression thrilled her. He wanted her.

And she wanted him.

So this was what desire felt like. Real desire. Every part of her body reacted to him, and she had trouble catching her breath. Her skin tingled for more of his touch; her br**sts ached, and a warm feeling invaded her limbs as the heat pooled inside her.

She began to unbutton his shirt, and he put his hand on top of hers. “Are you sure?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately, letting him know how much she ached for him.

Lifting her into his arms, he carried her to her bedroom. When he reached for the doorknob, she said, “No, I’m across the hall.”

Amazed that she could speak a coherent word, she put her head on his shoulder. Her heart was beating like a drum, and she could hear the pulsing sound in her ears. Was he having the same reaction to her? Did he crave her the way she craved him?

He put her down beside the bed, and she watched him remove his gun and badge and lay both on the table next to the headboard. He turned to her while he undressed. He was magnificent. She caught the thought before she spoke it out loud. He had a swimmer’s body, all muscle. She stepped closer and put her hand on his chest directly over his heart, feeling it pound under her fingertips. The muscles across his chest and upper arms were like steel, but warm.

Finn couldn’t wait a second longer. The ache to be inside her intensified. He began to undress her, and she tried to help but she kept kissing him as she struggled to get out of her clothes. Her sweatshirt was like a heavy blanket, and he helped her tug it over her head. When he finally succeeded, he dropped her clothes on the floor and looked down at her full br**sts and narrow waist. He was in awe.

He followed her down on the bed and covered her, gently nudging her legs apart. He settled himself between her thighs, his arousal pressed intimately against her pelvis. Burying his face in the side of her neck, he groaned with sheer bliss. “You feel so good, so soft.”

Peyton was overwhelmed. Finn, naked, wrapped around her, holding her, warming her with his hot hard body. Never had she experienced anything as wonderful as this. Never. Should she tell him? Would he stop if she did? She didn’t want to disappoint him.

She began to caress his shoulders, loving the feel of his strength. Her touch was light as she stroked him, moving lower to the base of his spine. He was nuzzling her neck, causing shivers to cascade all the way to her toes. It was heavenly.

“I know you’ve been with other women . . . of course you have . . . and I—”

His kiss stopped her confession—a long drugging kiss that let her know how much he wanted her. He lifted up on his elbows, saw the desire in her eyes, and said, “I don’t care about your past, or the men you’ve taken to your bed. Forget them. You’re with me now.”

Forget them? He had no idea how easy that was going to be. She tried one last time. “But I—”

His mouth firmly settled on hers again, and the kiss became so consuming she stopped trying to talk. He made love to her with his mouth, his tongue moving in and out, teasing, tormenting. His chest hair tickled her br**sts as he kissed her neck, then moved lower, his open mouth hot against the valley between her breasts. She arched against him when he ran his tongue across the sensitive nipple. She clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders, demanding more. He was driving her wild, and she felt a profound need to make him feel the same.

“Finn . . . let me . . .” She lost the thought as she fought the sensations coursing through her. His hand had moved down between her thighs and his fingers were stroking her, making her burn.

Finn loved the way she moaned, the way she moved restlessly against him. Her response was so uninhibited. He kissed her navel and continued on, nudging her thighs farther apart, making her more demanding now, more out of control.

Peyton nearly screamed when he began to stroke her with his tongue. She thought she would die from the pleasure, but losing control scared her.

“Finn, no . . . no more,” she cried out. Her hands tore at the sheets, and even as she was telling him to stop, her h*ps were moving against him begging for more.

“It’s okay. Let it happen,” he urged. “Ah, Peyton, you taste so good.”

Suddenly he rose up and cupped the sides of her face, kissing her almost savagely.

Their passion erupted like a raging wildfire, uncontrollable and fierce. She was desperate to know all of him. “I want to touch you, to take you into my mouth, to know what you taste like,” she panted. “Let me, Finn . . .”

She was shaking from head to toe, wanting to please him the way he pleased her, yet unsure how. He rolled onto his back and let her have her way. She started with his stomach, placing wet kisses around his navel, then moved lower to kiss and caress him.

His reaction was so intense, he couldn’t let her continue for long, knowing it would be all over for him before he satisfied her. He roughly lifted her, pushed her onto her back, and reached for the packet he had placed on the nightstand. When he was ready, he braced himself on top of her and pushed her thighs apart. He thought to enter her slowly so that both of them could savor the incredible feeling of coming together, becoming one.

“You’re mine, Peyton,” he whispered, his voice raspy with his need.

“Yes,” she said on a moan. “Please . . . I want you . . . now, Finn.”

Her need overrode his desire to go slowly. He was desperate to have her. He wrapped her in his arms and thrust into her. He felt the resistance and heard her gasp, but it was too late. He was fully embedded inside her. He stayed perfectly still, and it nearly killed him. She was so tight, so perfect. She squeezed him, and all he wanted to do was plunge into her again and again until they both found release. Beads of perspiration covered his brow, and his jaw was clenched tight.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to . . . Did I . . .”

She wound her fingers through his hair and pulled him to her. Kissing him, she pushed against him with her hips. She’d felt a sharp pain when he’d entered her, but it was quickly gone, and now the feel of him inside her made her want more.

He began to move, slower now, more careful. Each thrust a little deeper, a little more out of control. He stroked the need inside her until she was writhing beneath him and pleading for more and more of the exquisite sensation. Her moans urged him on, excited him. He was more forceful now, delving deeper with each thrust, the pace growing faster. She drew her knees up and met each thrust with equal passion. All restraint was gone. She cried out and held on to him as her orgasm consumed her.