Page 55 of Sleigh My Heart

“Can we put the past behind us and start over?” Those might not be the right words, as a lifetime of attraction for her still simmered in his gut.

A second passed. Two. Then she nodded. Tears welled in her eyes.

He turned her, wiped the moisture from her cheek with his thumb, then kissed her.

Her breathing changed, and his whole body was charged with a rush of adrenaline, like he was infiltrating an enemy compound. Something about Mickey heightened his senses, stirred his blood, and had him teetering on the edge.

Her hand stroked his back, starting with the dip above his jeans. She maneuvered under his shirt. Each touch of her hand on his skin ratcheted his pulse up a notch. By the time she reached the top, the blood was whooshing so loud in his ears, it sounded like a helicopter.

Without breaking the kiss, he scooped his hands under her thighs and lifted her to the counter.

Her long legs snaked around his hips, fastening him to her.

Yes. Lock me in for safety, baby.

They were going for a ride.

He tipped her head to the side and traversed the side of her neck. He counted the rapid-fire flutters under his lips all the way down the long, lean slope. He nipped the edge of her collarbone, pausing momentarily before working his way to the opening of her shirt.

God, she was beautiful. Responsive. Sensual. So, fucking right.

He cupped her breast. Perfect. It always had been.

Her head rolled back, and she groaned as he worked the tip to a stiff peak.

He raised her shirt, inch by inch.

She stiffened. Her eyes cut to the stairs. “Ava?”

“She sleeps like the dead.”

“Like someone else I know.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. Without another word, she lifted her arms for him to remove the article of clothing. They were in tune. He had missed this… missed her.

This high he was feeling wasn’t because he had been celibate for over a year. No, it was all because of her. Mickey.

With slow, appreciative hands, he journeyed down the curve of her breasts, over the soft ridges of her ribs, to the smooth skin of her belly. He enjoyed each dip and valley until his fingers touched the cold metal at her waist. He halted. His gaze dropped to the black gun.

“Huh?” Her voice husky, she glanced to where he was looking. With deft fingers, she released the holster and set it beside them. “We good?”

The sight of her gun should have chilled his lust, but it didn’t. At this point, her being a police officer was the opposite of a turnoff. Her strength. Her determination. Her intelligence. All the things that made her a good cop fed his lust for this woman.

“Oh yeah. We’re more than good.” He flicked the clasp of her bra. It slid to the floor.

The pep talk he had given himself had obviously gone out with the trash.

Mickey’s chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm as she watched him.

He held his breath, waiting for her reaction. Was she rethinking this? It would kill him, but if she wanted to stop, he would. He’d have blue balls until Christmas, but he’d do it.

“Shirt. Off.” She tugged at the hem of his Henley.

“Yes, ma’am.” He exhaled with a grin. In one smooth move, he reached over his head and pulled the shirt free.

Her hands were immediately on his chest, running through his hair, grazing his nipples. It. Felt. Amazing. To have her hands on him, her lips. He could never get enough of her.

A second later, those long, slender fingers were undoing his belt. With a flick of his jeans’ button, his pants dropped to the floor. He kicked them off.

“Turnabout’s fair play.” He unfastened her pants, and she lifted her hips. A moment later, she was gloriously naked on his counter.