A Fine Specimen (15 page)

His jaw muscles moved and stomach contracted as he drove
into her, over and over again.

It was all too much. Caitlin drew in a deep breath and held
it, shaking, on the edge of a precipice and then—yes! She fell right over the
edge with a cry, tumbling onto him as her body erupted in tight convulsions, so
hard they were almost painful.

He rode her through it, intensifying the pulses of pure
sensation, a level of pleasure she’d never felt before, pure animal sex, hard
and fast.

Caitlin shook and shuddered, eyes tightly closed because she
couldn’t take any more sensory input, what was happening inside her was too
sharp, too intense. Her loins were drenched, she was sweating all over, even
her closed eyes were leaking water.

Her body was starting the long slide to the other side of
orgasm when Alex’s strong arms tightened around her so hard he cut off her air.
He punched his hips up in one hard thrust that raised her high, swelled inside
her even more and gave a huge shout, jetting semen inside her so hard she came
again, a short, intense little orgasm, like a hiccup or a cough.

Dazed, Caitlin felt Alex settle back in the chair and felt
his breaths slow in time with hers. They sat, foreheads on each other’s
shoulders, plastered together by sweat and semen…and simply breathed.

She opened her eyes slowly, astonished to find the room
exactly the way it had been before. The buzzing frantic energy between them had
been so strong she wouldn’t have been surprised to see that it had swirled in
the room, knocking glasses and plates off the counter, tipping chairs.

But nothing had changed except her.

She closed her eyes again, feeling her muscles relax, one by
one, her breathing slowly returning to normal, her other senses slowly
awakening.

Finally, Alex stirred and raised his head. He turned her face
toward him with a finger. Her muscles had turned to water. She didn’t even have
the energy to open her eyes.

“Look at me,” he ordered softly.

Yeah, right. Her eyelids flickered then subsided. Not going
to happen.

He shook her a little.

“Caitlin, look at me.” Oh God, that was the Alex Cruz Voice
of Command, as impossible to resist as the voice of God from a burning bush.

Her eyes popped open.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” He was looking grim now, as
if expecting bad news. How sad. She wanted to wipe that expression off his
face, right now. What they’d just shared was…terrific. Mind-bending, actually.

She opened her mouth to tell him so and her stomach emitted
a loud growl, startling in the silence of the room.

Alex lost the grim expression and laughed. He closed his
eyes and bent his head forward until it touched hers again. His mouth curved in
a smile. “Much as I want a second round, I’ve guess we’ve been ordered to make
other plans.” He lifted her gently and reluctantly off his lap. “What were you
doing before?”

“Cooking,” Caitlin said. She stood on shaky legs, looking
down at his still-erect penis. Desire burned in her bloodstream and she was
about to bend back down to him when her stomach rumbled again, loud and strong
and embarrassing as hell. With a sigh, she bent to retrieve his shirt from the
floor and gave herself up to satisfying at least one type of hunger.

“Can you cook?” Alex asked curiously. He was so outrageously
sexy sitting there bare-chested in a kitchen chair, with a dark, bristly jaw,
half-closed eyes, cock still so engorged she could make out the veins. She
could barely keep from flinging herself at him.

Now he wasn’t the straight-arrow, button-down upholder of
law and order. Now he looked rough, tough and dangerous. He looked like someone
he should arrest.

He was relaxed, but Caitlin knew he could move quickly when
necessary, like a cheetah, springing from immobility to blinding speed in a
second.

He hitched up his pajama bottoms, covering that intriguing
stalk of hard male flesh with its large, plum-colored head, the source of such
amazing delight. She nearly sighed as it disappeared under the drawstring
pants.

Caitlin tried to get her mind away from the strong set of
his shoulders and his flat stomach with the thick vee of hair arrowing
intriguingly into the pajama bottoms…

She shook her head and tried to remind herself not to get
too sentimental about Alex Cruz, considering that he often behaved as if he’d
studied at the Mordor School of Charm, under the Dark Lord himself.

He’d asked her a question.

“I like good food and can’t afford to eat out much, so yeah,
I can cook. If I have food to cook with.” She planted her hands on her hips and
tried to look sternly at Alex. It was hard while he was looking at her through
slitted eyes, the dark heat so enticing. “I managed to scrounge some scraps for
breakfast, but you need to do some serious shopping.”

“We can go on a food run later,” Alex said lazily, getting
up to put plates on the table. “You can fill my pantry to your heart’s
delight.”

“Sounds like a fun way to spend a Sunday.” Caitlin turned
the burner back on. She whisked the eggs and milk a bit more and dipped the
stale bread in them. The butter started sizzling. “Tell you what, I’ll help you
stock up and cook you lunch. And then later in the afternoon you can drive me
back to the hotel.”

“No.” Alex’s deep voice was flat.

“No?” Caitlin’s hands faltered then shook. Damn her fair
skin and the fiery blush of humiliation she could feel rising. Her face would
be a hot pink right now. She cursed her pale complexion and the faint hope that
had risen in her heart.

Oh God. It was starting already.

Though she’d lectured herself all morning not to expect
anything from Alex, her traitorous heart had betrayed her. The prospect of
spending the rest of the morning and the early afternoon with this new,
seductive and playful Alex had been so enticing that she hadn’t stopped to
think at all. She’d simply opened her mouth and, like an idiot, let her hopes
plop out. She could have slapped herself.

Everyone at the station house had emphasized that Alex never
took a day off. Ever. Not even Sundays.

He didn’t want to spend the day with her. After the
shopping, he wanted to head back to work. And maybe, she thought, as an even
deeper flush of embarrassment washed through her, maybe he had another date
this afternoon or tonight. The fact that no one knew anything about Alex’s
private life didn’t necessarily mean he didn’t have one. Alex Cruz was an
incredibly attractive man. He probably had women falling all over him.

They’d had a brief affair—well, call it what it was, a
one-night stand—and it was over. Caitlin swallowed heavily against the acid
bile rising in her stomach, telling herself that it was the thought of eating
that moldy French toast, though she knew better. It was her idiotic hopes for
more than casual sex that were roiling her insides.

Foolish, foolish Caitlin. She’d known what to expect, no use
feeling disappointed.
Well, play it cool, Summers
, she told herself,
turning away—and knocking a mug off the counter.

Alex moved with lightning speed to catch it before it
shattered on the floor. Her flush deepened. Caitlin didn’t even want to think
about how she and Alex could have cleaned it up. They were both barefoot.

This was awful, a repeat of last night’s pants fiasco.

“Sorry,” she whispered, her gaze going out to the backyard
so she wouldn’t have to look at him.

“Listen to me.” Alex placed the mug back on the counter and
caught her shoulders. A long, lean finger turned her head to face him. “I’ll
drive you back to the hotel after lunch all right. But just to get your things.
You’re not staying in that hotel anymore.”

Caitlin frowned. He’d gone from amazingly attractive, lazy,
sexy Alex to Stern Cop Alex, who was, unfortunately, just as attractive. “I’m
not what?”

Alex’s jaws jumped as he clenched his teeth. “Staying in
that hotel. Ever again.”

“I’m…not?” Caitlin searched his dark eyes.

“No.” Alex shook her slightly. “You’re going to stay here.
With me. At least until you can get yourself set up. I already called the hotel
and told them you’d be checking out today. We’ll swing by to get your things
this afternoon. I don’t ever want you in Riverhead again. Is that clear?”

Caitlin blinked. She opened her mouth and nothing came out.

“I…see,” she said finally.

“Are we clear?” Alex repeated. She nodded.

The coffee machine began to hiss and sputter and Caitlin
turned it off. She didn’t know what to say…so she started talking. “Sit down.
The French toast is almost done. I couldn’t find any syrup or jam, so you can
sprinkle some sugar on them instead. There won’t be enough milk after the
French toast to put in the coffee, so I hope you like it black. I like a touch
of cream myself but…” She shrugged. She took a deep breath, bit her lip and served
Alex before sitting down across from him.

She stared at her breakfast, which didn’t look too
appetizing, then lifted her eyes to Alex, who did.

“I’m going to stay here with you,” she repeated. “For a
while.”

Alex nodded and dug in with a fork.

Caitlin blew out a breath in frustration. It was what she
wanted, but he hadn’t even asked, he’d simply told her.

Clearly, the country of Alex was no democracy—and its
diplomatic corps wasn’t too functional either.

Alex didn’t have too much experience in politely asking
people to do things. In the first half of his life, no one would have done
anything for him no matter what he asked or how he asked it. His parents had
been lost in their own dark, cruel and desperate world of drugs and alcohol,
with nothing left over for him.

And in the second half of his life, he just gave orders and
they were obeyed. Cop shops were like the military. They sure as hell weren’t
democracies. So this whole notion of asking someone to do something they might
or might not do, depending on their mood, was completely foreign to him.

Maybe he should have asked Caitlin if she’d like to stay
with him while she was doing whatever it was she was doing in the station
house.

No!

His entire nature balked at the thought. He could ask
Caitlin what she’d like for dinner. He could ask her what movie she’d like to
see or if she’d like to go for a walk. But her sleeping at the Carlton, in
Riverhead, was not an option. It was absolutely out of the question. He’d been
crazy to let her stay in the Carlton even one night.

Riverhead was a place where the druggies and the punks came
out of the woodwork after dark. During the day it was only the loonies and sad
drunks, so he’d felt more or less satisfied that she wasn’t out and about at
the most dangerous times.

He hadn’t had alarm bells ringing in his head, so against
his better judgment, he’d let her stay there. But now they’d had sex. She
wasn’t Ray Avery’s anymore, she was
his
. For the time being, anyway. Her
safety was now his direct concern and staying in Riverhead didn’t figure into
the equation at all. Riverhead was for scumbags, not gorgeous young scholars.

She was so beautiful this morning, wearing his shirt, that
glorious hair tied back with a shoelace. He’d watched her fussing in his
austere kitchen, making a mess, humming softly along with the radio. He’d
leaned against the doorframe, drinking in the sight of her and rubbing his
chest, where something inside had started aching.

She was like a fairy, a good fairy come down to earth just
for him, to make him stale French toast and to make sure he broke his
three-year record of going into the office every Sunday. Right then, watching
her hips sway under his shirt, the idea of going into the office on a Sunday
had struck him as insane. Why had he been living like that? Sundays were for
gorgeous fairies with their asses swaying gently to the beat.

“What?” Alex paused for a moment before forking in another
bite. She’d said something.

“I said that’s very kind of you.” When he looked up,
startled, she blushed. “To let me stay with you.”

Alex snorted and sipped his coffee. He wasn’t kind, he was
selfish. Having her stay here was purely self-serving. He knew she’d be safe,
he wouldn’t have to worry about ferrying her to and fro and he’d have her
available for sex whenever he wanted. And now that his dormant hormones had
woken up and smelled the roses, he wanted. A lot. But hell, if she wanted to
ascribe good-guy sentiments to him…hey.

“It will only be for a few more days, anyway,” she said
earnestly.

“Yeah?” She was so cute when she was serious. Alex put down
his cup. “How so? I thought your study was going to last at least a week.”

“Oh it will.” Caitlin leaned forward and Alex almost did
too, looking for a glimpse of cleavage. He stopped himself, ashamed. It was
purest instinct. He didn’t need to grasp this opportunity though. Her breasts,
her luscious, pale, round breasts were his for the asking. All he had to do was
reach over and unbutton his shirt, and she’d let him. Oh yeah. She was right
here, in his house, and all he had to do was reach out to have her.

“I’ll be looking for an apartment next week. The news isn’t
official yet, the announcement will be on Thursday…but it looks like I’m going
to be awarded that Frederiksson Foundation fellowship I told you about! I can
rent a nice apartment with the stipend that comes with the fellowship.”

What?

“Well, that’s…that’s good news,” Alex said slowly. The old
joke—good news and bad news. The good news was, she’d be sticking around
Baylorville. The bad news was, she wouldn’t be in his house. “How long does a
fellowship last?”

“A year, with an option for renewal for two more.”

A year of Caitlin. Here in Baylorville.
Okay.
He
could work with that. Alex chewed his stale French toast with renewed
enthusiasm.