He let his head fall back against the seat in surrender.

“Are you sure you can’t come in?” she asked, sliding her tongue along his neck.

“Got to work,” he said through clenched teeth. Locked in a haze of desire and temptation, he was unaware of her freeing him from his pants until the cold air hitting his fevered skin jolted him out of his reverie. “Whoa.”

The words died on his lips when she bent to take him into her mouth. Oh God. He figured he should at least try to stop her, but couldn’t seem to get the neurons in his brain to form the words he needed. This was going to be fast. And damn if the woman didn’t know exactly where to squeeze, to lick, to suck.

“Elin, honey,” he said, his voice full of warning.

As if he hadn’t spoken, she took him even deeper, and he climaxed with a roar that surprised him. His breath came out in puffy white clouds as he fought to recover from the intense orgasm.

She sat up and licked her lips, looking quite pleased with herself. “Too bad you have to work so early,” she said with a playful pout.

“Yeah,” he gasped. “Too bad.”

“Next time?”

“Sure,” he said, still having trouble catching his breath. He glanced at her and rested his hand on her leg. “What about you?”

She smiled. “I can take care of myself. Don’t worry.”

Something about the way she said that stirred his recently satisfied libido back to life as he imagined her “taking care of herself.” He released a ragged deep breath, feeling like he was in way over his head here. “I should go.”

Leaning over, she touched her lips to his. “I had fun tonight. Thanks for dinner.”

He caressed her baby-soft cheek. “My pleasure.”

“Call me?”

Freddie nodded, knowing he should walk her in but not sure his legs would follow his directions. He watched her until she was safely inside and then zipped up his pants and started the car. For a long time, he sat there trying to collect himself before he shifted the car into gear and drove home.

With the media clamoring for justice for the murdered family and Sam pursuing her own personal agenda, they tore apart the Reese home the next day. Hours later, the house lay in tatters, and the only interesting thing they’d found was ten thousand dollars in a metal box in the basement.

“At least we know now what he was after,” Freddie said, referring to the fat wad of hundred-dollar bills.

“He’s desperate and on the run,” Sam said. “He needs money to get out of the city, and this is probably all he has. I’d bet my badge that he’ll be back for it.”

“I talked to Gonzo. They’ve scoured the neighborhood, but no one’s seen him.”

“Or they’re protecting him.”