Free Apache Nights by Sheri Whitefeather Page A

“I’ve never been able to figure women out. You’re such a baffling breed.”
    She pinched his thigh. “Breed?”
    â€œGender.” He nibbled the side of her neck, tasting soap and skin. “Are you ready to go back to bed?”
    â€œIf you are.”
    â€œI’m always ready to mess around.”
    â€œOh, I see. Is that why we’re going back to bed?”
    â€œDefinitely.” He stood, giving her no choice but to stand, too. “You can be on top this time.”
    She nudged him toward the towel rack. “You’re such a gentleman.”
    He knew she was kidding, teasing him for being so blatant, for saying whatever came to mind. He wrapped her in terry cloth, drying her off. He used another towel on himself and dropped both of them onto the floor.
    Squeaky clean and warm from the tub, they tumbled into bed. Only this time, they ditched the virgin-white quilt and made use of her pastel-colored sheets.
    They didn’t bother with foreplay, at least not to the degree of building up the sexual tension. Kyle was already aroused. Just thinking about being with her again made him hard. Joyce seemed just as anxious.
    While he leaned against the headboard, she chose a ribbed condom, fitted him with it and climbed onto his lap.
    â€œI like how big you are,” she told him, impaling herself with a warm, wet thrust.
    Kyle’s breath rushed out. “Then go deeper. Take more.”
    â€œThis much?” She sank onto him again, riding him the way he’d imagined her riding the bull.
    â€œYeah. That much.” He didn’t need to lean forward to kiss her. They were already as close as humanly possibly, courtesy of the police-issued handcuffs. “These are better than the sex-shop kind.”
    She moved up and down, milking every inch. “They’re not a toy.”
    â€œThey are now.” He studied her, compelled by her beauty, by the shape of her breasts, the flatness of her stomach, the flare of her hips. He shifted his gaze even lower, mesmerized by the V between her legs.
    â€œYou’re watching us,” she said.
    â€œSo are you.” He noticed that her head was bent, too.
    She kept watching. “It’s sexy.”
    â€œTotally.” Intercourse, he thought. Copulation. The visual effect was driving him half-mad. “Do you like dirty movies?”
    She looked up. “Kyle.”
    He stared at her. “Do you?”
    She bit down on her bottom lip. “No.”
    â€œLiar. You like everything I like.”
    â€œNo, I don’t.”
    â€œYes, you do.” He took a chance and whispered something lewd in her ear, something gentlemen didn’t say, something ladies shouldn’t hear.
    She reacted.
    Violently.
    She called him a bastard, drove her nails into his skin, and then kissed him, nearly devouring his mouth in one fell swoop.
    He pushed her down, switching positions so he was on top, so he could pound her into the bed. She wrapped her legs around him, thrashing their shackled wrists.
    And then he felt it. The feminine fire. The hot-blooded moisture. The pretty blond cop coming like a call girl.
    The edgy sex, the kinky stuff she’d been worried about, was nothing more than a few strategic words. But it didn’t matter. Kyle felt as if he’d just scaled a mountain. He loved sex. He always had. But with her, it was even better.
    He tugged her head back, using her hair, behaving like the caveman she’d accused him of being. Then he caught himself.
    Cursing his stupidity, he released her. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t supposed to hurt you.”
    â€œDon’t apologize.” She squeezed her thighs together, tightening her grip, locking him between her legs. “I’m going to hurt you, too.”
    His heart slammed against his chest. “You are?”
    â€œWithout a doubt.” This time when she clawed his skin, she drew blood, leaving marks down his chest.
    Hard and deep