She gulped in air, disoriented, delirious, then felt it whoosh out of her lungs again when his clever mouth replaced his fingers.

The assault on her system was precisely what she'd wanted. Her helplessness. His greed. That he would know it, understand it, and give was a mystery she would never solve.

Her head dipped back to lay limply on the smooth side of the pool as she simply wallowed in the pleasure he offered her.

Slowly, slyly, his mouth roamed up, over her belly, her torso, her breasts, to linger at her throat where her pulse beat thick and fast.

"You've got amazing breath control," she managed, then trembled as gradually, inch by inch, he slipped inside her. "Oh God."

He watched her face, saw the heat flush her cheeks, the flickers of pleasure move over it. Her hair was slicked back, leaving it unframed. And that stubborn, often too serious mouth, trembled for him. Cupping her hips, he lifted her, moved in deep, deeper to make her moan.

He rubbed his lips over hers, nibbled at them while he began to move with an exquisite control that tortured them both. "Go over, Eve."

He watched those shrewd cop's eyes go blind and blurry, heard her breath catch then release on something like a sob. Even as his blood burned, he kept his movements achingly slow. Drawing it out, every instant, every inch until that sob became his name.

His own release was long and deep and perfect.

She managed to drag her hands out of the water and grip his shoulders. "Don't let go of me yet. I'll sink like a stone."

He chuckled weakly, pressed his lips to the side of her throat where her pulse still danced. "Same goes. You should get up early more often."