The Silence That Speaks. Andrea Kane
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did, it would be all over. But the sexual tension in the backseat was so thick it was suffocating.
By the time Marc kicked her apartment door shut and reached behind him to flip the lock, Maddy was unbuttoning his shirt. Marc finished the job for her, shrugging out of the shirt and tossing it aside.
Then he reached for her, pulling her against him.
He took her mouth in a devouring kiss that nearly brought them to their knees. Maddy pressed herself against him, and Marc backed her toward the bedroom, never breaking the kiss. He pulled off her clothes as they staggered down the short hall and into her room.
They were naked when they hit the bed.
Neither of them could withstand the preliminaries—not this first time. There were no gentle strokes, no soft words, no tender touches. It was fast, and it was hot and it was primal.
Afterward, Marc collapsed on top of her. Never in his life had he lost control like that, coming with the urgency and explosiveness of a teenager. He’d barely been able to hold back long enough to feel Maddy unravel beneath him, pulse all around him, cry out his name.
He knew he’d shouted hers, as well. And he knew he was lost.
“Shit,” he’d muttered.
A soft laugh had shimmered through Maddy’s body. “Nice. Just the thing a girl wants to hear after...this.”
With the greatest of efforts, Marc had propped himself on his elbows, gazing down into Maddy’s deep, dark eyes.
“Did you feel it, too?” he asked bluntly.
A soft smile through kiss-swollen lips. “Yes,” she whispered, tracing his jaw with her fingertip. “I felt it. I’ve never felt anything like it before. But you knew that.”
“I knew it because it was the same with me.” Marc shut his eyes, pressed his forehead to hers. “Shit,” he said again.
Maddy was silent for a moment. “We don’t have to give this a name or overanalyze it, Marc,” she murmured. “We can just enjoy it—whatever it is and whatever it becomes.”
“We both know that’s a cop-out, Maddy. The name is hanging out there, whether or not the words are said. The feelings are real and they’re off the charts. I’m already in so deep I can’t get through a meeting without thinking about this.” He pushed his hips gently against hers. “And that was before it happened. Now I’ll probably walk around with a 24/7 hard-on.”
Maddy began to laugh. “I like that image. Very SEAL-like.” Her fingertips caressed his back, and her breath caught as she felt him harden inside her. “Let’s not talk. For now—I’m here.” She wrapped her legs around him. “Right here.”
Right here had gone on for months—the most emotionally consuming months of Marc’s life.
And emotionally consuming was not the mindset of a navy SEAL. It couldn’t be.
An outburst of barks, followed by Hero slamming his full weight against Marc’s legs, snapped Marc out of his trip down memory lane in a hurry. Hero jumped up, scrambling, without much success, to get his beefy body onto Marc’s lap.
“Down,” Marc commanded, snapping his fingers.
Instantly Hero obeyed.
“Sit.”
Hero’s bottom hit the ground and he gazed at Marc, waiting for his reward.
“Very subtle.” Marc reached in his pocket for one of the organic carrots Claire had cut up this morning. “Good boy.” He extended his hand and gave Hero what he was waiting for.
As Hero chomped down the carrot, Marc rose, now very much in the present. “I take it you’ve had enough playtime with your buddies and are ready to head back. So am I.”
Robin waved at Marc as he leashed Hero, and he grinned and waved back. She brought her hand to her ear in a gesture that said Call me. Marc nodded. He wished he was in the market for a hookup that would be that simple.
But simple had never been his forte.
Feeling restless and in a foul mood, Marc walked Hero briskly back to work.
“Have a good outing?” Casey asked as he passed by her office.
“Hero got some exercise and I got hit on. So I’d say, yeah, it was a good outing.”
Casey glanced up and watched the tension in his broad-shouldered body as he continued on his way.
“I’d try the gym,” she called after him. “It’s probably better for what ails you.”
CASEY ARRIVED AT Madeline’s apartment at 11:00 a.m. sharp, the time Emma had confirmed with her first thing that morning.
“Hey, John,” Casey greeted the security guard at the door. John Nickels was one of Patrick’s best and sharpest.
“Casey—hi.” John gave her a professional smile. He was well over six feet, with the body of a linebacker. He’d served the NYPD in the homicide department for twenty-five years. No one was getting by him, that was for damned sure.
Now he stepped aside for Casey to ring the bell. The doorman had already announced her and gotten Madeline’s okay to send her up. “Everything here’s been quiet,” he said.
“Good.” Casey rang the bell. “That’s how I like it.”
Madeline opened the door. She was wearing jeans and a pale yellow sweater. Again, expensive but understated.
She was still moving stiffly as she showed Casey in, urging her to make herself comfortable on the living room’s deep-cushioned, pebble-brown club chair, which was positioned diagonally across from the sofa.
“Don’t even offer to get me anything.” Casey cut off what she saw was coming, hanging her coat on one of the polished brass hooks adjacent to the door. “Just sit down on that sofa and relax. We’ll talk.”
“I feel like a ridiculous invalid,” Madeline said, lowering herself to the sofa with a grimace. “I’m sitting in the exact same spot as I was yesterday when Patrick was checking out my apartment. Other than showering, eating and creeping in and out of my bed, I’ve done very little but lie here and read.”
“You’re healing,” Casey replied. “You need the rest.”
“I haven’t slept well since the break-in, and certainly not since the attempt on my life,” Madeline admitted. “I wouldn’t have shut an eye if John hadn’t been outside my door all night. I can’t thank you or Patrick enough for arranging security for me.”
“We protect our clients.” Casey was adamant. “Nothing is going to happen to you. Not on our watch. You can count on it.”
“I am.” Madeline folded her hands in her lap. “Go ahead. Ask me whatever you’d like.”
Casey held up her iPhone with a questioning look. “All right if I tape the convo? I want to concentrate without taking notes.” A grin. “And unfortunately, Yoda isn’t transportable.”
Madeline chuckled, waved her hand to indicate that Casey should go ahead. “Record away.”
Casey pressed the appropriate button and set the iPhone on the coffee table. She sat back, crossing one leg over the other. “Let’s review potential suspects. Starting with Conrad.”
Madeline inclined her head in surprise. “Conrad? Isn’t that a reach? I mean, I know the spouse is always number one on the list, but under the circumstances, my ex is in no position to try to run me down.”
“Your ex is a rich man with lots of connections and pull. He’s in a health care facility, not a prison.