Bra already forgotten, he was working on her pants, and he kissed every inch he bared, from her waist to her knees, then to her ankles, then her toes, one by one. he laid a path of kisses down on leg, then up the other, then he placed a long, lingering kiss at her center, through her panties, She was already wet for him.	Not that he hurried. All the impatience he'd shown earlier seemed to have evaporated. Doris could have crocheted a pair of panties in the amount of time it took Hunter to remove Gabi's.	She squirmed under him. "I thought they teach speed in the military."	"When warranted. There are times that call for careful deliberation."	"You're going to deliberate me to death," she warned, just as he finally parted her hot flesh, a move that immediately silenced her.	But he didn't touch her further. He blew on her clit.	She nearly jackkifed off the couch. He pushed her knees up until her heels touched her butt, then he pushed her knees out until she was spread wide open just inches from his face.	And then he just looked.	Good grief. What was there to look at?	"Touch me!" she snapped when she couldn't stand the suspense any longer. "Touch me, you torturous bastard. That's an order."	He laughed deeply and heartily. "And what are you going to do if I don't?"	"I'll arrest you."	"I think that's what they call an abuse of power." His eyes glinted darkly. "But the idea of handcuffs does have considerable merit.
Dana Marton, Deathwish
romantic-suspense