Marla arched upward, catching his rhythm, moving with him, as each thrust was harder than the last, deeper, more forceful. She clung to him, barely able to breathe as the first light of dawn pierced the window, coloring the bed and canopy with shades of gold.
Nick held her close, his breathing raspy and shallow, matching her own gasps as he made love to her. Liquid heat swirled deep inside, her mind spun crazily, and she held fast to him, loved him, rose to meet each of his strokes, gave herself up to him, body and soul. Faster. Faster. Spinning wildly. She closed her eyes and couldn’t find her breath as the first wondrous, mind-splintering spasm hit.
His hoarse cry came a heartbeat before her own. “Marla . . . oh, love . . . damn you, damn us, . . . damn it all . . .”
The world shattered behind her eyes. He threw back his head and held her as if he’d never let go, his body straining hard before he fell against her, his weight welcome, his face buried in the crook of her neck. “I knew . . .” he said, gasping, his fingers stroking her hair as his wet chest hair rubbed against her breasts. “I knew it would be like this with you.”
“Like before?” she asked, barely able to force the question, for she wasn’t sure that they’d been lovers long ago, that she really was Marla Amhurst Cahill.
“No, not like before.” He raised himself on his elbows and stared down at her with those laser blue eyes. He drew in a long, deep breath and traced the curve of her jaw with one thumb. “Better. So much better.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she teased, inwardly pleased, wishing she believed him.
He laughed. “Just to one.”
“Liar.”
“Not me.” His eyes were intense and he kissed her again. “Now,” he slapped her gently on the buttocks, and glanced around the room. “As much as I’d like to lie here all day with you, I think we’d better get up before the rest of the house does.”
She groaned, but as her mind cleared, she knew he was right. They were pressing their luck and there was no time to waste. “I have so much to tell you,” she admitted worrying her lip. “So much . . .”
“Well, darlin’, that makes two of us. Come on.”
“The old man’s dead,” he said from his favorite phone booth just down the hill from the rich bastard’s house. The fog was peeling away, sun shining and the coffee shop across the street was just opening up.
“What? How do you know this?”
There was an edge of panic in the guy’s voice. Good.
“I offed him. I got tired of waiting.”
“Damn it, I told you to lay off.”
“You said we had to wait until he kicked off. Well, the old fart kicked.”
“The police will be all over us!”
“They’ll never know. The Doc put Amhurst on oxygen last night. I took him off.”
“Christ, this messes everything up.” The rich bastard was panicking, his voice rising an octave.
“Speeds everything up you mean. And you should be glad. He changed his will once, didn’t he, cut Marla out, then had second thoughts in order to get him a grandson? Why wouldn’t he again? This way the kid inherits.”
“He couldn’t have changed it again, you moron! He wasn’t in his right mind.”
“Says who?” he threw back, seeing red at the insult.
“Look, if anyone suspects—”
“No one does. The way it stands now, the kid inherits, you get the bucks and you pay me. Pronto.” His eyes narrowed as he smelled the other guy trying to squirm out of their agreement.
“There’s still the problem of Marla.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Now wait a minute. I’m not sure—”
“She’ll be dead by nightfall.”