Searching for Shadows, page 24
She clamped a hand over her mouth as embarrassment burned through her. “Oh my God. I can’t believe I just did that.”
The corner of his lips twitched upward in a devilish grin. “I plan to make you do it again.”
He flicked his thumb against her clit, and her legs shook like they had minds of their own.
“Conn,” she breathed, clutching at the sheets beneath her to hold herself steady.
He laughed softly, and she could feel the vibrations of it against her skin. His fingers continued their rhythm, circling and dipping inside her, each motion sending waves of bliss rippling through her body. She was on fire, her breath coming in sharp gasps as she squirmed beneath him. It was too much, but at the same time, not enough.
His mouth covered hers in a searing kiss, his tongue mimicking the movement of his fingers between her legs.
“Come for me, Vee,” he murmured, his voice dark and thick with desire. He nipped at her neck, sucked on her collarbone, and she arched toward his mouth, wanting more. He took his time over her breasts, pausing at each nipple, and she ran her hands through his hair, urging him on as he suckled greedily. But all too soon, he released her nipple and continued sliding down her body. He kissed her stomach and moved lower, settling between her thighs. She shivered as his warm breath caressed her sex.
Finally, he found her clit with his mouth, sucking it in time with his fingers thrusting inside her. She cried out, arching into his touch, bucking up into it. His tongue was a master at coaxing whimpers from her, stroking and teasing until she was a needy, desperate puddle. His fingers dug into her hips, urging her to grind against his mouth, and her body complied without her conscious thought, seeking the friction she needed so badly.
Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter inside her, building to a precipice she was both terrified and thrilled to reach. The sight of Connelly between her legs, his determined gaze burning into hers—it undid her. He was relentless, his tongue and fingers driving her higher and higher until the world became a smear of colors behind her tightly shut eyes.
The way he loved her was addictive, demanding, all-consuming.
A shudder cascaded through her, pleasure curling and unfurling in a raw, primal pulse. She convulsed around his fingers, climaxing with a wild cry that echoed off the walls of the bedroom.
Connelly didn’t let up, keeping his movements steady even as her body jerked and bucked beneath him. The aftershocks were just as powerful, a series of mini orgasms that made her gasp and moan long after the initial wave of pleasure had crashed over her.
Finally, he withdrew his fingers and kissed a path back up her body, his lips soft against her sensitive skin. He cradled her face in his hands, leaning in to capture her mouth in a tender kiss that tasted of her own arousal. When he broke the kiss, his dark eyes were filled with an emotion so tender it made her heart ache.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, brushing a lock of hair off her forehead.
Still panting, she wrapped her arms around his neck, needing him closer. His weight pressed her further into the mattress, and his hips settled between hers, his cock nudging at her entrance.
He met her gaze. “I don’t have any more condoms.”
In response, she hooked her legs around his back and lifted her hips, accepting him inside. The slick slide of him entering her sent another surge of pleasure through her nerves endings. All fear and all reservations were swept away. His movements were slow and measured, showing restraint she knew he was struggling to maintain.
“Vee,” he groaned, burying his face in the crook of her neck. His breaths heated her skin, sending chills through her.
She slid her hands down his back, feeling the play of his muscles as he thrust into her. Each moan from her lips seemed to drive him on, fueling his pace until they were both panting and gasping, and the bed creaked under them.
The pleasure was all-consuming. A white-hot ball of fire that radiated out from their joined bodies and burned through everything else. She closed her eyes and let it take her, let him take her. His rhythm was merciless, unyielding, demanding everything from her and giving just as much back.
Her fingers dug into the hard plane of his back, her nails scratching trails along his skin. He scooped an arm under her leg, changing the angle and hitting just the right spot to send a jolt down to the tips of her toes.
She gasped. “Conn…”
His lips curved into a ghost of a smile against her neck. “I’m here. I’m here with you. Hold on.”
“Oh, God.”
His breathing hitched as he thrust harder, faster. The headboard banged against the wall behind them. She clenched her muscles around him, trying to hold him deep as the tension coiled tighter and tighter…
An explosion rocked through her. He captured her lips, swallowing down her scream as she convulsed beneath him.
“Jesus. I can’t...” His voice was hoarse and strained as he buried his face into the crook of her neck. The bite of his teeth against the pulse point there was as delicious as it was unexpected. His movements became more desperate, his body riding hers with an intensity that had her spiraling toward another peak. His lips found hers again, his kiss frantic and hot as they moved together, bodies slick with sweat.
When Connelly finally came, it was with a ragged growl vibrating in his throat. His entire body shook as he emptied himself inside her, each pulse pushing them both higher and higher until they were soaring above everything else.
He collapsed on top of her and murmured words of affection that seeped into her skin and filled her heart. He was heavy on top of her, but it was a weight she welcomed. It was comforting, grounding. She ran her fingers through his hair, savoring the feel of him—sweaty and spent—against her.
Slowly, he rolled off her, and his arm curled around her, pulling her close. They lay there in silence, entwined in a tangle of limbs and sheets. He was a furnace against her back, his heat keeping her warm even as she shivered from the aftershocks that still coursed through her body. Her heart pounded in her chest as if it were trying to escape, and yet, nestled against Connelly in the soft cocoon of the bed they’d thoroughly rocked, she’d never felt more at peace.
When he finally spoke again, his voice was soft and raw against the shell of her ear. “You are…” He began but didn’t finish, leaving his words to trail into the darkness as his fingers traced lazy paths up and down her side.
“Perfect,” he breathed after a long moment, finishing his sentence. “You’re perfect, Vee.”
Emotion clogged her throat, and she blinked hard to clear her blurring vision. There was no place for tears here. Not in this haven they’d created together, not in the post-orgasmic warmth that enveloped them.
Connelly tightened his arms around her, pressing a kiss on the back of her neck. Her sensitive skin tingled where his lips touched, and a shiver coursed down her spine.
She rolled to face him so that they were nose-to-nose, their heads resting on the same pillow. She traced the outline of his strong, scruffy jaw with the tip of her finger. He gave a sleepy smile that was somehow boyish and devastatingly sexy man at the same time.
She loved him.
She loved him so much it hurt, but it was a sweet ache deep in the center of her.
Just as she opened her mouth to tell him, there was a knock on the front door that had Rebel and Alfie barking like mad.
Connelly’s heavy eyes popped open wide. “Girl’s night.”
“What?”
He sat up and groped around on the nightstand until he found the alarm clock that had been knocked askew by their lovemaking. He looked at the time. “Oh, fuck.”
He rolled out of bed and fumbled to find their clothes.
She watched him with bemusement. “Girl’s night?”
“I thought you needed girlfriends, so I asked Alexis to come hang out with you while I go help Cal with some research.” He pulled on his pants, then tossed hers on the bed and crossed to the window, pulling back the drapes to peek out.
“You did… what?”
“I know! I’m sorry! I meant to tell you, but then… you know, sex. My brain turned to mush.”
She yanked on her clothes and crossed the room to peek under his arm at the gathering on her porch. Five women waited out there. “That’s not just Alexis.”
“No,” he said slowly. “It is not.”
“Oh my God.” She dragged her hands through her messy hair, trying to tame it. “I need to shower! I need to not look like... like...”
“Like you just had mind-blowing sex?”
She smacked his arm. “This isn’t funny.”
He held up his fingers a millimeter apart. “It’s a little funny.”
“We see you at the window,” Anna Hendricks’ voice chimed from the porch. “Stop making kissy faces at each other and let us in. I was promised a grown-up girl’s night.”
Veronica’s face flamed, and she buried it in her hands. “Oh my God.”
Connelly cleared his throat to stifle a laugh and turned her to face him. He peeled her hands away from her face and kissed the tip of her nose. “Go shower. I’ll let them in.”
He had the bedroom door open before she realized what he looked like. Bare-chested and barefoot, his jeans hanging low on his hips, his hair a tousled mess. “You can’t go out there like that! You look like—”
“Like I just had mind-blowing sex?” He smirked over his shoulder. “I know. Because I did.”
“Connelly…”
His laugh drowned out her warning. “You have two minutes to get to the bathroom before I let them in.”
chapter thirty
Veronica stared dumbly at her reflection in the mirror as the shower water warmed. Her hair was a mess, her mouth swollen from Connelly’s kisses, and she had a hickey on her collarbone. Her thighs were sticky with their orgasms, her sex sore from the literal pounding it just took, and yet she felt like she was floating on air.
“What the hell just happened?” she asked her reflection.
Connelly Davis had rocked her world. He’d rocked it so hard and so thoroughly that she was reasonably sure it had just shifted on its axis.
And now she had to play hostess to a bunch of women she barely knew?
The shower water finally reached a comfortable temperature, and she stepped in, letting the hot stream wash over her and rinse the evidence of their intimacy down the drain. She lost track of time under the steaming water, lost in her thoughts until she heard a knock on the bathroom door followed by Connelly’s voice.
“Vee? You can’t hide in there all night.”
Dammit. She was trying to do precisely that by drawing the shower out. Hide.
She sighed heavily. Having company was the last thing she wanted. All she wanted was to curl back into bed with him and forget about the world outside.
But instead, she turned off the shower and toweled off briskly. She dressed in soft cotton pants and a loose shirt and pulled her damp hair into a messy bun. She took a deep, fortifying breath before opening the door.
She was met with a living room full of boisterous laughter, glasses clinking, and the smell of pizza filling the air.
“Vee!” Alexis waved a glass of red wine toward her. “Come meet everyone!”
Tension curled in Veronica’s stomach like a venomous snake, but she forced herself to plaster on a polite smile as Alexis introduced everyone.
“Of course you already know Anna and Rose,” Alexis said.
Rose Rawlings— the sheriff’s wife and owner of The Mad Dog Pub— lifted her glass in a salute. “Hey, Vee.”
Anna was mid-bite of a huge slice of pizza. “Thanks for having us. I really needed some adult girl time.”
“Poppy driving you nuts?” a curvy woman with long dark hair asked. She had a baby bump under her flowy blue top and wasn’t drinking wine like everyone else.
Sasha Scott, Veronica realized, placing her name with the face. Donovan’s wife.
Wait. Donovan was going to be a dad?
Anna rolled her eyes heavenward in answer to Sasha’s question. “God, yes. I love that child with everything in me, but she has no boundaries right now. Sometimes Mom just wants to pee by herself.”
Sasha smiled and pressed a hand to her belly. “I can’t wait.”
Anna pointed at her with the slice of pizza. “You say that now, but let’s revisit it in seven years and see how you feel.”
Alexis took Veronica by the arm and pulled her into the living room. A woman with an explosion of blond curls and bright red-framed glasses was setting up a projection screen.
“And this,” Alexis said, “is my sister, Ellie.”
Ellie’s smile was bright and warm. “Nice to finally meet you, Veronica. I hope you don’t mind all this.” She waved at the projector. “I thought we could binge the new season of Bridgerton. Have you seen it?”
“Uh... no?”
“Oh! It’s so good. I’ve seen it twice, but I’ll happily watch it again. You’ll love it! The romance, the costumes, the hot men—”
Alexis laughed. “Take a breath, Elle.”
Ellie’s gaze shifted to the hallway behind Veronica, and she leaned in conspiratorially, her eyes sparkling behind her glasses. “But I guess you don’t need fictional eye candy with him around.”
Veronica turned and watched as Connelly emerged from the bedroom. He was appropriately dressed now in jeans and an olive green Henley. Over it, he wore his favorite cable knit cardigan with leather elbow patches. With his leather laptop bag slung over his shoulder, he looked more like a college professor than the man who had rocked her world.
He came straight to her, wrapped an arm around her waist, and pressed a kiss to her mouth that had her flushing hot from head to toe. The other women giggled like schoolgirls.
“I’ll be at The Mad Dog if you need anything,” he murmured. “Try to have fun.”
She fisted her hands in his sweater, unwilling to let him go. “I wish you were staying.”
“You do barrel rolls in planes not built for aerobatics,” he reminded. “You can handle a girl’s night, and I’ll be back around eleven.” He gave her another quick kiss and then released her.
“Alright, ladies,” he announced, grinning at the group as he headed to the door. “I’m gonna leave you to your girl talk and sexed-up period dramas. Behave and try not to drool too much. I just mopped.”
The room erupted with laughter and hoots as the front door swung shut behind Connelly.
“You go, girl,” Rose said, raising her glass in a toast. “Snagging Sexy Sweater Guy? And he mops, too? Sheesh. I’m lucky if Ash remembers to pick up his socks.”
Veronica snorted a laugh, surprising herself. “What did you just call him?”
“Sexy Sweater Guy. It’s what I mentally called him when he came into the pub to write before I knew his name.”
“I mean, she has a point,” Sasha said. “That sweater shouldn’t be sexy, but on him…?”
“So hot,” Anna finished, and the women all hummed appreciative agreements.
“Writers,” Ellie said and swooned onto the couch, dramatically fanning herself with her hand. “Who knew, amiright?”
“You made it,” Cal said when Connelly slid into the booth across from him fifteen minutes later.
“Yeah, sorry. Uh…” Connelly couldn’t stop his grin. He knew what he looked like—a man who had spent the afternoon rocking the bed with the woman he loved—but he didn’t care. “Something came up.”
Cal eyed him with a smirk. “Looks like it came up more than once. Lucky bastard.” He slid a beer over the table. “I was starving, so I took the liberty of ordering for you. Hope you like a porter and cheeseburgers.”
“Porter’s perfect.” Connelly picked up the glass and raised it in a toast. “I only drink beer as black as my soul.”
“My man.” Cal tapped their glasses together, and they both took swigs of the dark beer.
The cool, bitter taste sent shocks through Connelly’s system, washing away the traces of anxiety that had been gnawing at him since he left Veronica.
She’d be okay.
Zak and Donovan were both on guard duty at the base of the driveway. It was Zak’s overnight shift, but Donovan wasn’t about to stay away since his pregnant wife was inside. Ash’s deputies—both good, solid cops—were parked on the street. The house was filled with women, most of whom knew their way around a firearm.
She was okay.
Tonight would be good for her.
And he had work to do.
He unzipped his laptop bag and pulled the computer out. “I had a thought earlier today.”
“Yeah?” Cal said and also reached for his briefcase. “So did I, but you go first.”
“Alexis was so sure Maria Socktish was the first victim, and even though we now know she wasn’t, there might still be something to it. She was the first of the current M.O.— when he started targeting vulnerable young women with no family ties and a history of sex work and drug abuse. But assuming Stephanie Walsh in 1990 was also his victim, why was there an eight-year gap between her murder and Maria’s disappearance?”
Their food arrived.
“Can I get you anything else?” Jeremy Firestone asked after placing their plates in front of them.
“I’ll take another porter,” Cal said and raised a brow at Connelly in question.
“No, I’m good.”
“I’ll bring that right out,” Jeremy said. “My shift ends soon, but if you need anything after I leave, Shaina, the bartender, can help you out.”
“Great,” Cal said. “Thanks, Jer.”
Jeremy walked away, pausing to clear an empty table nearby, and they both took a moment to doctor their burgers with condiments before continuing their original conversation.
