Chapter 13
When the doorbell rang, Kim felt her stomach flip.
Putting her hand to her belly, she took a deep breath and ran to the door.
She looked through the peephole, and even through the distortion from the rounded magnifying glass, she felt that same punch of need that had hit when he’d first walked into the jazz club and her life.
She pulled the door open. “Hi.”
He crowded her in and kicked the door closed, his mouth on hers before the latch clicked shut.
She’d never seen a person move so fast; it stole her breath.
Then his passion kept her from regaining it.
His lips slanted across hers, his tongue sliding deep, making her shiver.
As he bent her backward, she clung to his broad shoulders, feeling his warmth and strength through the cotton of his black T-shirt.
Behind her back, the white roses he’d brought her tangled with her hair, but she didn’t care.
“Hi back,” he growled, nuzzling his nose against hers. “Christ, I missed you all day.”
Kim grinned, her dazed eyes noting how his irises seemed to glow from within. “It’s crazy, I know, but it was the same for me.”
He released her and thrust the flowers at her. “Here.”
She bit the inside of her cheek to hold back a laugh. He looked so sheepishly embarrassed as he awkwardly held out the bouquet. Hoping to put him at ease, she teased, “Roses! How lovely. You totally earned a blow job for these. Thank you.”
“Seriously?” Raze’s brows shot up. “Well, that explains a lot.”
“Such as why so many men make the gesture?”
“Yeah.” He scowled. “But it doesn’t explain why no one told me the trade-off until now.”
She headed into the kitchen to grab a vase. “Probably because you don’t need any props to get women; they fall all over you without them. Of course, now that you know, you can check it out yourself and see what happens.”
She jumped as his arms came around her from behind, and he nibbled the side of her neck. “You may need to stock up on vases,” he purred.
Laying the bouquet on the countertop, Kim turned in his arms and caught him around the waist. “No bribes necessary. I like getting you off that way. I suspect I’m acquiring an oral fixation on you.”
His hands pushed into her hair, massaging her scalp. He looked down into her face. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Excuse me?”
“There’s got to be something. No one’s this perfect. Throw me a bone, will you?”
The reminder of her conversation with Delia tickled her, and her smile deepened.
“I had a nose job.” She touched the bridge. “There was a bump here, and I had it shaved down. I can’t dance. I have no rhythm whatsoever. Can’t sing, either. Roz says I sound like cats fucking.”
Raze erupted into laughter.
She grinned back at him.
He leaned his cheek against the top of her head. “I’m a guy with issues. You could do so much better.”
“Maybe I will when you try the flower thing with someone else.”
“Fair enough.” Gripping her ass, he hauled her up against him. “How was your day?”
“I went shopping. And bought you a surprise.”
“Oh? Lemme see.”
“Not yet. And you? Work go all right?”
He nodded and visibly clammed up. “Yeah.”
Running her hand over his head, she smiled. “Don’t worry. I won’t ask.”
“Why not?”
“Both my dad and brother are cops. I know the drill. When you can talk about it—when you want to talk about it—I’m here. And… I knew something about your job was eating at you yesterday. I understand not wanting to talk about it.”
“You peg me for law enforcement?”
“Am I wrong?” she challenged.
Cupping her face, he kissed her. “No. Not really.”
She let him back away and resumed putting the flowers in a vase. “Make yourself at home.”
“That’s easy to do. Your place is as beautiful as you are.” His voice faded as he moved into the living room.
Kim leaned heavily into the counter, breathing carefully in and out.
He was such a force of nature, and her hunger for him was outside the scope of her experience.
She’d never had relationship issues or any problem with commitment, affection, or sexual attraction.
But this… It was like being hit with a Mack truck every time. “Did you forget to bring a movie?”
“No.” He pulled a DVD case from the waistband of his jeans at the small of his back. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
“Umm…sounds fun.” She carried the flower arrangement into the living room and set it on an end table. “Whatcha got?”
“The Unforgiven.”
“Huh? Who’s in it?”
“Clint Eastwood. Morgan Freeman. Gene Hackman.” He handed her the case.
“Oh.” Her mouth curved ruefully.
“What?”
“There’s something else wrong with me: I’m not a fan of westerns.”
His eyes were warm with amusement. “Give it thirty minutes. I’ll entertain you another way if you’re not enjoying it.”
“I can go for that.” Yum. She licked her lips.
“And yours?” He crossed his arms and looked sexy as hell. “What are you putting on the table?”
“Gabriel. Have you seen it?”
Raze’s mouth opened, hung that way for a moment, then closed again. His lips twitched. “Angels?”
She deflated. “You’ve seen it.”
“Probably not the same story,” he said wryly. “What’s it about?”
“Fallen angels who kick some serious— What’s so funny?”
He tried to wipe the smile off his mouth with his hand. “Do they turn into vampires?”
“Who? The angels? No. It’s not a comedy, you know. It’s dark and gritty.”
“Gotcha.” But he was clearly still very amused.
“Then again…” She thought about it. “That might actually be a cool story. Maybe some werewolves, too? Like Underworld with angels? Could be interesting.”
Laughing, he picked her up and spun her around. His delight spurred her own, and she found herself laughing with him.
“You’re crazy, Raze. You know that?”
“About you.” He took her mouth in a breathless kiss.