“It’s not going to happen.” Sloan leaned back and framed Michael’s face in her hands, her thumbs gently caressing the curve of her lover’s jaw. “Baby, there’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“Always.”

“Can you stay here tonight instead of going back to work? Sandy picked up some videos, and I’m going to order pizza.”

Sloan thought about the work she had planned to do in the ofÞ ce downstairs, reviewing the data that Jason and Mitchell had collected in the last few days and running some traces herself. She thought about the long hours she had been away from home since the case had started to break the weekend before, and how often Michael had been alone.

By the time she came to bed it was often almost morning, and she frequently rose after only an hour or two of sleep and went back to work.

With guilty eyes, she noted the circles under her lover’s eyes, the pale cast of her skin, and the whisper of hollows beneath her cheekbones.

Michael might be out of danger, but she was far from well.

“Comedy or drama?”

“Actually, I think she got Night of the Living Dead and every one of the sequels.”

“I’m in.” Sloan rose and guided Michael to her feet, pulling her into a loose embrace. She buried her face in Michael’s fragrant hair, relaxing into the welcoming curves of her lover’s body. For the Þ rst time all day, she felt calm. “Pizza?”

“Extra cheese.”

“Maybe I’ll just forget about working tonight. After the movies, we can escape and go to bed early.”

Michael guided Sloan’s mouth to hers, whispering against her lips, “I’d like that.”

• 79 •

• 80 •

Justice Served

CHAPTER NINE

It won’t work, Mitch.” Sandy stood with a hand on her cocked hip, studying Mitch through narrowed eyes as he Þ nished buttoning his ß y. His dark hair was slicked back, with just a single thick wave slashing across his broad forehead, his chest and stomach were ß at beneath the tight stretch of his black T-shirt, and his narrow hips seemed tight and powerful beneath the faded black jeans.

He looked up, surprised and worried. “What’s wrong?” He ran a hand over his chest. “Is the Ace too bulky? Does it show through my shirt?”

Sandy shook her head. “No, it looks good.”

“Not enough shading?” He traced along his jaw where Sandy had expertly accentuated the already strong lines with the subtle application of makeup.

Another negative head shake.

“So what—?”

“It’s not your face. ” Sandy smiled faintly at Mitch’s obvious expression of distress and twined her arms around his neck. With her body tight to his and her mouth against his ear, she whispered, “I can tell you have a hard-on.”

Mitch laughed, a combination of embarrassment and pride. He pulled her closer to his groin, his hands spread across her lower back.

The pressure of her body against the fullness in his jeans sent the blood thundering to his belly. “You told me that’s what you wanted, right?

The working gear?”

“Yes,” Sandy admitted, rolling her hips over him lazily. “But Michael might get up. And I don’t want her to see you like this.”

“Why?” Mitch searched her face, frowning. “Are you

embarrassed?”

Sandy bumped him sharply, groin to groin, making him gasp in

• 81 •

RADCLY fFE

surprise. “No,” she said, as if speaking to a Þ ve-year-old. “I just don’t want any other woman but me checking out your equipment.”

“Sandy,” Mitch complained, distracted by the subtle insistence of her hips moving against him. “It’s always gonna show some. And even if Michael sees, she isn’t going to be interest—”

“You don’t know that,” Sandy whispered as she slid a hand between their bellies and cupped the rigid length of him. “You look so hot.” She squeezed, massaging him rhythmically. “And this is mine, baby.”

Mitch was losing focus, every sense concentrated on the exquisite pressure against the turgid tissue beneath the cock in Sandy’s hand. His stomach spasmed, and his legs shook. “Sandy. Honey. You gotta cut that out.”

With a hand between his legs and one around his shoulders, Sandy walked him back against the dresser, until she had him pinned with the weight of her body fused to his. She pumped him faster and watched his eyes glaze. “You like it, baby?”

“Oh…jeez…honey…” Mitch trembled and groaned. “You’re gonna get me off like that.”

“I could,” Sandy said sweetly, stilling her hand as she kissed his mouth. Still leaning into him, she stroked her tongue inside his mouth until he quivered the way he did when he was getting ready to come.

Then she eased away. “But I’m not going to, not right now.”

Mitch braced an arm along the edge of the dresser for support, his chest heaving. “What are you doing to me? Honey, what are you doing?”

She stroked his cheek. Kissed him again. Pumped his cock one more time with her hand. Eased farther away. “I want you to remember where this belongs. Now go change into something that’s not gonna make every girl within a mile want to fuck you.”

“If I move right now, I might come.”

“Are you hard, baby?”

“Oh yeah.”

She nipped his chin gently. “Good. Save it.” Forcing herself to back completely away, when what she wanted to do was unbutton his jeans and pull him down on top of her and into her, she said, “I’m going to get dressed.”

Smiling a satisÞ ed smile, Sandy pretended she didn’t hear him whimper as she turned her back and stripped off her top.

• 82 •

Justice Served

v

“Darling?” Michael massaged Sloan’s back as she lay with her head pillowed against Michael’s breast.

“Mmm?”

“I think there’s a party going on in the other room.”

“Mmm.”

“Are you awake, or are you just humoring me by pretending to be listening?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Michael gently extricated herself from her lover’s grasp and sat up in bed. “I think I hear Sarah’s voice.”

Sloan rolled onto her back and lazily opened her eyes. “How come I’m wasted and you’re wide awake?”

“Because you did all the work,” Michael murmured, stroking Sloan’s cheek. “In fact, as I recall, you were having one of those butch attacks and wouldn’t let me do anything.” Her Þ ngers hesitated, then began their slow caress again. “Are you afraid to let me get too excited?”

Sloan stiffened. “No. You had an orgasm, right?”

“Yes,” Michael agreed gently. “A very sweet, very tender, very quiet orgasm. And when I wanted to touch you, you—”

“Baby,” Sloan interrupted, “I just couldn’t wait. I just…lost it there.”

“I know, and I love it when you’re like that. When all you have to do is lie on top of me and come in my arms.” Michael leaned over to look directly into her lover’s eyes. “But tell me that you weren’t trying to keep me from exerting myself.”

“Ali said—”

“Ali said we could have sex,” Michael said Þ rmly. “She didn’t say we could only have sex if I stayed very still and let you tend to me.

That’s not the way we make love.” She kissed Sloan to take the edge off her tone. “I happen to like to make you scream.”

“Jesus,” Sloan groaned, her body twitching. “You know how crazy you make me. And just being next to you—”

“Is wonderful, yes. But it’s not everything that I want.” Michael glided her hand down the center of Sloan’s chest, over her stomach,

• 83 •

RADCLY fFE

and between her legs. She closed her Þ ngers and watched Sloan’s eyes grow hazy. “I want you like this.” Never taking her eyes from Sloan’s face, she slid into her, pressing her palm hard against Sloan’s clitoris, still swollen from her recent orgasm. “I want to make you come my way, my time.”

Sloan’s chest jerked with spastic breaths, her hands trembling on the sheets. “Please. Michael, please, I love you so much.”

“I know, my darling,” Michael whispered, beginning to thrust. “I know.”

v

Sandy sat on one end of a leather sofa across from the matching one where Jasmine, in tight black satin slacks and a deep burgundy, scoop-neck top, lounged beside a redhead in a pale green oxford shirt and chinos. Sandy watched the two of them with curiosity, trying to Þ gure out the score. Every time the really cute redhead—Sarah, she said her name was—spoke to Jasmine, she rested her hand lightly on Jasmine’s knee. Jason had said he liked girls the Þ rst time he’d helped Mitch get dressed. Sandy had made it pretty clear then that Mitch was off-limits, and Jason had said that wasn’t a problem because he was involved. As for Jasmine, Sandy wasn’t so sure. Jasmine ß irted with the drag kings, so maybe Jasmine liked boys. And Mitch was a guy.

“Whatcha thinking, honey?” Mitch murmured, sliding an arm around Sandy’s waist as he settled a hip on the arm of the couch for support. He’d been using one crutch to get around, and he propped that against the back.

Sandy leaned into his body and tilted her head up to see his face.

“Jasmine’s really hot, isn’t she.”

Mitch grinned. “Sizzlin’.”

“Phil,” Sandy whispered, indicating the small, hard-bodied drag king with the hint of Þ ve o’clock shadow, tight blue jeans that announced in no uncertain terms that he was a guy, and short-sleeved, retro striped shirt, “has the major hots for her.”

“As long as it’s her and not you,” Mitch growled as he dipped his head and kissed her behind her left ear. “All those guys are horny. I thought their tongues were gonna fall out when they Þ rst saw you.”

• 84 •

Justice Served

“They were just being guys,” Sandy said offhandedly. “At least they looked at my face before my tits.”

Mitch laughed softly. “It’s a tough choice.”

“You better think so.” Sandy dropped a quick kiss on his neck. “Is everything going okay?”