Oh God!

That felt super nice.

I unclenched my hands and pressed lightly on his chest as I turned my head and whispered, “Mitch –”

But when I did, his head turned too, his lips captured mine and he kissed me.

He did not go all out. It was gentle. It was sweet. Probing, unhurried and soft. There were tongues but it was nice, not invasive, giving a lot but taking nothing and my fingers clenched in his shirt again this time definitely to hold him to me.

Mitch broke the kiss and whispered against my lips, “Love that mouth of yours, sweetheart,” and I couldn’t help it, I shivered again.

He moved slightly away and held my eyes as his hands went to my wrists at his chest. He moved them around him and down, not releasing them but still managing to pull his shirt out of his jeans and shove my hands up under so they encountered the hot, sleek skin and hard muscle of his back.

He felt so unbelievably good I involuntarily made a noise in the back of my throat.

Then I watched his eyes get darker. I liked the way they got darker then his head descended and his lips captured mine again in another kiss. This one still sweet, unhurried, gentle but not probing, giving a lot but now taking a little, coaxing me to give and I wanted to give to Mitch so I did. He’d added his hands moving on me the same way. Unhurried, gentle, discovering and my body melted under his and my fingers explored the contours of his back and I liked what I felt so much, my hands shoved up higher so I could explore more.

Then he broke the kiss again but this time his lips glided across my cheek, along my jaw. He added his tongue when they swept down my throat then back up then he added his teeth again, nipping my earlobe and then he worked the skin behind my ear with his tongue. All slow, leisurely, taking his time as my hands moved on his back, my body yielded more under his and my breath came faster and faster against the skin of his neck.

Then his hand moved over my ribcage, up and I held my breath as his head came up and his lips caught mine, his tongue sliding inside as his fingers curled over my breast.

I liked the feel of Mitch’s warm hand at my breast so much my back arched slightly and a small moan glided up my throat and into his mouth.

His thumb swept over my nipple and I liked that a whole lot more so my back arched hard and a long, deep moan glided up my throat and into his mouth.

That was when leisurely and gentle got lost. As my moan slid into his mouth, Mitch slanted his head and deepened the kiss. It was harder, demanding and God, so, so good.

I pulled one of my hands out of his shirt so I could move it up his back, his neck and into his soft, thick hair and hold him to me and I did this because I didn’t ever want him to stop kissing me.

Not ever.

His finger met his thumb at my rock-hard nipple and rolled it over my blouse and, God, God, that felt so damned good I whimpered against his tongue, my h*ps surged up coming into deep contact with the hardness of his and all was lost.

He shifted so his body was more on top of me as his other hand went down my side and yanked up my skirt even as his knee came up between my legs, forcing them open but he didn’t have to. I was already curving one leg around his thigh.

“Jesus, so sweet. So f**king, f**king sweet,” he muttered against my lips, his voice deeper, gruff and I felt the change in his tone rocket straight between my legs.

“Mitch,” I whispered, lifting my head as my hand in his hair pulled him down to me. I kissed him, hard, demanding, sliding my tongue in his mouth and this time I got his groan in mine in return.

That rocketed straight between my legs too.

Then his hand at my breast went to the buttons of my blouse. Swiftly and expertly he undid them as we kissed hot, wet and heavy. I pressed my body up into his and he ground his down into mine and I loved taking the weight of him, feeling the power of him.

Then suddenly he stopped undoing the buttons half down my ribcage, his fingers curled in, tugging it aside and I gasped into his mouth as my body twitched with excitement. Then the cup of my bra was drawn quickly aside and I lost his mouth on mine but his fingers curled under my breast, lifting it. Then his upper body angled down, his lips rounded my nipple and he sucked deep.

As in deep.

Oh God, God, God! That felt unbelievable.

So unbelievable, my back came off the couch, my head pressed into the cushion as my neck arched and the fingers of both my hands drove into his hair. All this as I moaned deep then whimpered as what he was doing with his mouth at my nipple shot a path of fire right between my legs.

Mitch suddenly lifted his head and twisted his neck so he was looking at the back of the couch.

I stared at him dazedly wondering why he was doing that and how I could get him to keep doing what he’d been doing a second ago when he muttered a harsh, low, “Fuck.”

Then suddenly his hands were moving quickly on me, pulling up my bra, drawing my blouse closed and yanking down my skirt.

Then his body suddenly shifted so it was fully over mine, covering it completely and his neck twisted the other way so he could look across the ottoman.

And it was then I heard a trembling, little girl voice penetrate my foreplay on the couch with Ten Point Five Detective Mitch Lawson addled daze saying, “Auntie Mara, I don’t feel too good.”

Chapter Seventeen

Keep Mitch Around

My head twisted around. I looked across the ottoman just in time to see Billie, standing at the opposite side of the couch, lean forward and vomit on Mitch’s living room carpet.

“Shit,” Mitch muttered, moved and moved me with him. Before I knew what was happening, I found myself standing on me feet by the couch.

I blinked and teetered then focused to see Mitch lift Billie in his arms and then he was striding swiftly through the living room toward the hall.

I skirted the ottoman and her sick then ran after them, doing the buttons on my shirt. By the time I made it to his master bath, the lights were on and Billie was getting sick in the toilet, Mitch crouched beside her, holding back her hair. His head turned and tipped back and his eyes hit mine.

“She’s burnin’ up,” he said softly.

I moved directly to the bathroom closet hoping that was where he kept his washcloths.

“How bad?”

“Don’t know. I don’t have a thermometer. You got one at your place?”

“No,” I answered, seeing he did keep his washcloths in the closet. I grabbed one, went to the sink and turned the tap on cold.

I heard more getting sick sounds and then Billie whined the obvious into the toilet, “I don’t feel good.”

I wrung out the cloth, cooing at her, “I know, baby. Get that sick out. I’ve got a cold cloth coming.”