Blinking, she forced herself to reorient so she could deal with her first outside interaction since yesterday. She glanced down at herself, just to make sure she was decent enough to be seen. Oh, right. She was wearing her oversize college T-shirt and black yoga pants. She’d showered and put them on sometime after dawn.
Wow, was she out of it.
Still somewhat off-balance, Claire picked up a hair band and tied back her still-damp hair. With that, she headed for the door.
Habit made her peer through the peephole. Brows raised, she opened the door.
“Hey,” she greeted Ryan in surprise. Their time together rarely
included early morning drop-bys—or any other conventional dates.
“Hey, yourself.” He walked in, carrying a white bag containing something that smelled wonderful. “Croissants,” he explained. “Fresh from the bakery down the street. I’m assuming you haven’t eaten?”
Claire looked from the bag to Ryan and back. “No, I haven’t.”
“Good. Then let’s eat.” He placed the bag on the kitchen table. “I see you’re drinking some of that foul-tasting tea. I’ll have coffee.”
“Of course you will.” Claire walked over to brew a single K-cup of coffee. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t convert Ryan to a green tea drinker.
“Are you okay?” he asked, studying her as he did. “Casey said she hadn’t heard from you since yesterday. It’s not like you to fall off the grid.”
“You’re right.” Claire handed Ryan his coffee. “I lost all sense of time. This pen and all the horrifying visions it’s conjuring up are consuming me.”
Ryan took the cup of coffee with a nod of thanks. He didn’t have much faith in psychic connections. But he’d be a fool to disregard all of Claire’s successes. And whatever she’d been experiencing now had taken a huge toll on her. She was pale, her eyes haunted, and she wasn’t a hundred percent steady on her feet. Altogether, she looked as if she was on the verge of collapse.
“Let’s sit down.” Ryan took her arm and guided her over to the sofa. He put both their cups on the table in front of them and sat, pulling her down beside him. “Did you get any sleep last night?”
“Not really. Then again, I didn’t really expect to. The connections I’m making with Glen Fisher are really freaking me out. I’ve dealt with evil before, but this is in a class by itself. The man is a psychopath. The things he did to those women, the strategic planning that went into each attack—every time I pick up that pen, I get flashes of a different scene, a different victim. Nobody—not FI and not the authorities—have so much as scratched the surface. These brutal murders have gone on for years.”
She pointed at where she’d been sitting at her table. “I have a notebook and my own pen next to Fisher’s. I’ve been writing down each energy event I experience. It’s the only way to keep track of all Fisher’s crimes—that’s how many of them there were. And I have no sense of a timeline. That’s part of what I was hoping for. I wanted to not only collect but to organize my thoughts before I came back to the team.”
“Sounds like a plan, but a complicated one.” Ryan’s knuckles caressed her cheek. “You need more than I realized. The croissants can wait. You need a break, and something to relax your body and clear your mind.” He slid off her hair band, massaging the back of her neck as he did. “I can provide both.”
Claire smiled. Now this was the Ryan McKay she knew.
“I’m sure you can,” she murmured. “But it’s a tall order. My mind is pretty locked up right now.”
“I’ll unlock it.” He fanned her hair out over her shoulders. “You know how I feel about a good challenge. I always rise to the occasion.”
“True.” Claire was unbuttoning his shirt. “Your methods are impressive. Your results are even better.”
“Uh-huh.” Ryan’s hands were under her T-shirt, gliding up and down her back, leaving goose bumps in his path. “But you’re really wound up this time. It might take a while to get the desired results.”
“I can wait.”
“I can’t.” Ryan yanked the T-shirt over her head, drew her to him and covered her mouth with his.
After that, it was an eruption of the senses, just as it always was.
Claire never let herself go quite the way she did when she and Ryan were together. And he knew it. He drew out every touch, every sensation, until the pleasure was almost painful. Then he slowed down, backed off and started all over again. He brought her to the edge and kept her there, savoring the urgency in her body—sometimes satisfying it, sometimes making her wait.
The experience was anything but one-sided. Ryan was an accomplished lover who was used to being in control. Claire blew that talent to bits. She drove him crazy and she was acutely aware of it. Every touch, every taste, every shivery twist of her body, elicited a harsh groan and an equally hard shudder from him.
They were explosive together.
Afterward, they lay quietly on the couch, an afghan thrown over them, their heart rates gradually slowing to normal.
“Feel better?” Ryan asked as he let shimmering strands of blond hair run through his fingers.