She went rigid and lifted a hand to shove his arm away. He simply closed his fingers over her wrist. She could have had him flat on his back in a heartbeat—so she told herself. Still, she only stood there, the breath backing up in her lungs and her pulse throbbing hard and thick.
He wasn’t smiling now.
“You’re not a coward, Eve.” He said it softly when his lips were an inch from hers. The kiss hovered there, a breath away until the hand she’d levered against his arm changed its grip. And she moved into him.
She didn’t think. If she had, even for an instant, she would have known she was breaking all the rules. But she’d wanted to see, wanted to know. Wanted to feel.
His mouth was soft, more persuasive than possessive. His lips nibbled hers open so that he could slide his tongue over them, between them, to cloud her senses with flavor.
Heat gathered like a fireball in her lungs even before he touched her, those clever hands molding over the snug denim over her hips, slipping seductively under her sweater to flesh.
With a kind of edgy delight, she felt herself go damp.
It was the mouth, just that generous and tempting mouth he’d thought he’d wanted. But the moment he’d tasted it, he’d wanted all of her.
She was pressed against him; that tough, angular body beginning to vibrate. Her small, firm breast weighed gloriously in his palm. He could hear the hum of passion that sounded in her throat, all but taste it as her mouth moved eagerly on his.
He wanted to forget the patience and control he’d taught himself to live by, and just ravage.
Here. The violence of the need all but erupted inside him. Here and now.
He would have dragged her to the floor if she hadn’t struggled back, pale and panting.
“This isn’t going to happen.”
“The hell it isn’t,” he shot back.
The danger was shimmering around him now. She saw it as clearly as she saw the tools of violence and death surrounding them.
There were men who negotiated when they wanted something. There were men who just took.
“Some of us aren’t allowed to indulge ourselves.”
“Fuck the rules, Eve.”
He stepped toward her. If she had stepped back, he would have pursued, like any hunter after the prize. But she faced him squarely, and shook her head.
“I can’t compromise a murder investigation because I’m physically attracted to a suspect.”
“Goddamn it, I didn’t kill her.”
It was a shock to see his control snap. To hear the fury and frustration in his voice, to witness it wash vividly across his face. And it was terrifying to realize she believed him, and not be sure, not be absolutely certain if she believed because she needed to.
“It’s not as simple as taking your word for it. I have a job to do, a responsibility to the victim, to the system. I have to stay objective, and I—”
Can’t, she realized. Can’t.
They stared at each other as the communicator in her bag began to beep.
Her hands weren’t quite steady as she turned away, took the unit out. She recognized the code for the station on the display and entered her ID. After a deep breath, she answered the request for voice print verification.
“Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. No audio please, display only.”
Roarke could just see her profile as she read the transmission. It was enough to measure the change in her eyes, the way they darkened, then went flat and cool.
She put the communicator away, and when she turned back to him, there was very little of the woman who’d vibrated in his arms in the woman who faced him now.
“I have to go. We’ll be in touch about your property.”