However, false claims of sexual assault were exceedingly rare. And Quentin didn’t think Haley had known who he was when he’d grabbed her to prevent her from crying out in fright. She’d seemed genuine when she said she was no longer interested in working for Wenck and didn’t want to press any charges. Also, why had someone gone into her room searching for her? Unless she’d stolen something…
Her glittery purse sat on the table beside the unconsumed whiskey. Plain sight? Ish. He opened her purse and found a cell phone, a key card to her room, and a tube of scarlet lipstick. He examined the tube to make sure it was just a lipstick and not some fancy listening device or computer gizmo. As far as he could tell, it was just lipstick.
He felt like a bit of an ass for going through her stuff. He checked her wallet but found nothing out of the ordinary except a black American Express card that he’d assumed was a myth. It had her name on the front. Shit. He closed the purse and repositioned it back on the table.
It was better to be thorough than to look like a damned fool, so he emailed his secretary with a request for background information on Haley Cramer. Then he eyed the chaise-lounge. He wasn’t looking forward to trying to contort himself on that thing all night, but he’d been raised with manners and would never allow a woman to take the couch. It wasn’t even ten PM yet, but he had an early flight tomorrow morning, and if she had any sense of self-preservation, Haley Cramer would be joining him on it.
He quickly stripped to his boxers. Everything he’d brought with him, except his wash bag, was ready to zip up and head out the door. He set his alarm, grabbed a throw to nail home the point that he wasn’t moving from the chaise, laid down with his eyes closed to at least attempt to get some sleep.
After five minutes or so, the bathroom door opened. Haley Cramer stood outlined by the light behind her, wearing a towel wrapped around her body, wet hair brushing bare shoulders.
“I hung shorts and a t-shirt on the doorknob for you to sleep in. You can take the bed. We have to be up early, so goodnight.” He closed his eyes again, determined not to think about her naked under that towel. He wasn’t going to get all worked up about sharing a room with a beautiful woman. She wasn’t his type at all—except in appearance. He liked a simple life and uncomplicated women. Haley Cramer was not an uncomplicated woman. She was unstable dynamite left too close to a flame. She was the labyrinth beneath the pharaoh’s tomb.
Soft footsteps came closer. If he was an asshole, he’d be hoping for sex, but he wasn’t an asshole. Nope, he was a damn saint.
A light whisper floated on the quiet night air. “I don’t mind sharing. The bed, that is.”
He opened his eyes. He wasn’t an asshole but apparently, he wasn’t dead either.
“Although I generally sleep naked, which might bother you.” She undid the towel and let it fall to the floor. The light from the bathroom backlit her body, showcasing a silhouette of an hourglass figure. “And so there is no misunderstanding…this is an invitation for you to join me in bed. Naked. With sex on the menu if you’re interested.”
His mouth went dry. Every excuse he might have made evaporated on his tongue as blood seared through his veins, heading straight to his groin. He tossed aside the throw and sat up, swinging his legs around, finding her navel in line with his mouth. She stepped between his knees and he closed them tight, trapping her in place, taking a breath and struggling to think. There was probably a good reason not to do this, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember what that might be. Her skin smelled like the hotel soap, but he could also scent her arousal, and it made him hard as steel.
He spread his fingers over the curve of each hip. Her skin was like velvet, but softer. Her curves tempted him, but he somehow managed to hold back. Not that he wanted to hold back, but… “You suffered an upsetting experience. You’re not thinking straight.”
She smiled and licked her bottom lip. “Oh, I know what I want. I’ve wanted you since the moment you stepped up on that podium today.”
“Not the usual response I get from my audience.” His voice cracked. Way to play it cool, jackass.
“How do you know? Are you a mind reader as well as a negotiator?” She tried to raise her leg to straddle him, but he didn’t let her. If he did, all talking would end.
“No, ma’am. But I need you to be sure and not do something you might regret.”
“I’m quite sure, Special Agent Savage.”
He didn’t correct her about his title. He wasn’t that stupid. He cleared his throat. What if she was still upset? What if she mistakenly thought she owed him in some way for offering her shelter? “But—”
“Quentin.” She sounded exasperated. “I’m positive. If you want to, that is. Otherwise, I’ll sleep on the chaise. Alone.” She sounded less certain now. “And never bother you again, I promise. No hard feelings.”
No hard feelings? His erection hurt, he was so turned on.
She was so near, he couldn’t think straight. He closed his eyes, needing to reason this through. But darkness heightened all his other senses, her scent fresh on the night air, her exquisite skin giving softly beneath the rough calluses on his fingers. His resistance crumbled.
He wanted to taste her. Needed to taste her. He leaned forward and dipped his tongue into the soft indent of her belly button. She gasped softly. He held her still as he traced his tongue over her skin, and then he moved lower, monitoring her reaction via the tension of her muscles as his tongue finally dragged through the naked folds of her sex.
This was new.
He liked her bare skin more than he’d anticipated, but then anything that made sex different was welcome. Anything that didn’t elicit memories he’d rather forget when fucking another woman. He nuzzled her there, felt the hitch in her breathing as he used his tongue on her clit, keeping her trapped between his legs. She moaned, sifting her fingers through his hair as his fingers gripped her ass. He kept rubbing that small nub, feeling her react, stiffen and tremble.
She kept her cries down to a low whimper, her hips undulating against his mouth as he nibbled and tasted and drove. There was nothing like the taste of a woman. Nothing like the feel of one coming against the flat of his tongue after only a few minutes of focused attention.
He pulled back, and she folded forward, her forehead resting on his shoulder. She was breathing heavily, giving him a perfect view of her breasts.
“I knew you were good with your mouth, but that wasn’t what I was expecting.”
He laughed and let her go from where he’d held her trapped between his legs. She pushed him back against the chaise. He captured her hand and brought her with him. Naked chest met naked chest, the satiny smoothness of her skin unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. His hands molded every contour, every perfect curve, searching out the heaviness of her breasts, teasing the rigid tips of her nipples. Pinching them with his thumb and forefinger before sucking them into his mouth.
Her hands spanned his shoulders, then his back. Grasping and exploring. Going lower. She moved front and center and found his erection, not difficult considering his dick was trying to climb out of his boxers to get her attention. Her fingers wrapped around him, and he leaned his head back and wondered how he’d gone from having a sensible early night to having sex with one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met.
His mind shied away from the thought and then shut down completely as she slid to her knees in front of him, eased him out of his boxers, and ran her tongue over his length. He was pretty sure steam sizzled off his skin.
She took him in her mouth, and he had to keep himself from thrusting forward.
His fingers sank into the upholstery in an effort to stop himself doing anything that might frighten her. She’d been through a terrifying experience earlier, but she hadn’t seemed unsure or hesitant about this. No, she’d seemed keen to take control of the situation, and he was happy to help in any way he could.
Even so, he knew they shouldn’t be doing this, but he co
uldn’t seem to resist his attraction to her. Especially when he looked down and saw his length slipping between her lips and felt the wet heat of her mouth surrounding him. That vision must be wired to something primal, something handed down in his DNA as a way to short-circuit conscious thought and turn him into a mindless rutting creature.
The tight sensation in his balls told him he was going to come if she didn’t stop soon, and, as desperately as he wanted that, he also wanted more.
He withdrew and almost groaned when she pouted. She had the sex kitten thing down pat.
How much of it was real? How much put on for his benefit?
Or maybe this was who she was, and she wasn’t ashamed of any of it. Why should she be? There was nothing wrong with enjoying sex. They were both consenting adults, and he enjoyed the heck out of it.
And maybe he was thinking too damn much.
He took her hand and drew her to her feet. He headed for the bed but veered off to the bathroom along the way. He had condoms in his wash kit, because occasionally he wanted sex and sometimes, he was lucky enough to get it—like tonight. Whether it was a biological urge or simply a physiological reminder he wasn’t dead yet, he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t fight it anymore. The sight of her gold dress lying in the corner had him pausing.
“This isn’t about him.” Haley tugged his hand. “It’s about me wanting you. It’s about me choosing you.”
He grabbed a strip of condoms and dragged her to the bed.
* * *
Haley hadn’t expected Quentin to be quite so assertive a lover. Although she should have guessed from the gleam in his eye and the confident way he handled himself in general.
Her clit still tingled from his tongue and, even though she’d come already, she felt as though they were only getting started.
He tossed the condoms on the bedside table and turned to face her. He sank his hand into the hair at her nape, pulled her forward, and kissed her on the mouth.
It caught her off guard, that simple kiss. He didn’t try to force his way inside. Instead, he coaxed and teased, giving her the time she needed to adjust from sex to kissing. Kissing was an art form not everyone paid attention to. It was a getting-to-know-you move she didn’t always allow. But she couldn’t have broken that kiss if someone had put a gun to her head and threatened to pull the trigger.
It was an act of exploration and recognition, that was both familiar and at the same time unique. His tongue touched hers, tentatively seeking permission to come inside and play—somehow more intimate than him sucking her clit. His palm skimmed her side, barely touching but causing a rush of sensation in its wake.
She cupped his cheek though other parts of his body tempted her. His muscles were well-defined and lean, a runner’s build with no excess to slow him down. She absorbed his kiss and slid her fingers upward into the silky blackness of his hair.
Did he know how gorgeous he was? How spectacular?
She doubted it. He wasn’t arrogant enough.
Suddenly the kiss felt too intimate, too revealing, and she pulled back, wrapping her fingers around his thick length.
“Hmm,” she scraped her teeth along his bottom jaw up to the curve of his ear. “Let’s see if you can talk your way out of this, shall we?”
“I must look way stupider than I realized if you think I’m even going to try.” His voice was low and deep, only slightly above a whisper, reminding her Cecil Wenck could still be a problem that neither of them wanted to have to deal with. Quentin backed her up until her legs hit the mattress, and her knees buckled. He grinned, and she knew she was in big trouble.
He pulled her to the edge of the bed, sinking to his knees, his wide shoulders forcing her legs apart and opening her up to him.
“Tell me what you like, Haley. Tell me how to get you off as many times as you want before I get inside you.”
She choked. Holy crap. No one had ever said anything like that to her before. She felt exposed and vulnerable and covered her insecurity with a light laugh. “Cocky much?”
One side of his mouth twisted into a grin. “Confident. But only with your help. Tell me what you like.” He took her hand and sucked her finger into his mouth. “Show me.”
She was shaking so hard, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to. Then she decided why the hell not. This might be the best sex of her life and, after the awful things that had happened earlier tonight, she deserved it. They both did.
“I like to be teased for a while.” She showed him, thrilled at how his eyes glinted at the information.
He copied her, painstakingly, slowly. “Okay.”
Finally, he slid his tongue along her slit, and she almost shot up off the bed. But he didn’t touch her how she really wanted, and she realized he was waiting for more instructions. Or teasing her into madness.
“I’d like your tongue inside me,” she said carefully.
“Mmm.” His tongue joined her finger, tasting and exploring her until she could barely breathe. He pulled her against his face, and her body shook with arousal. His hands pushed her thighs wider apart and, when he pulled away, his gaze was hot and intimate.
“What else?” His voice was rough now.
She swallowed, reminding herself not to scream because, dammit, Cecil Wenck. She slicked a finger over her clit. “I liked it when you sucked me here.”
“Sucked you.”
“It made me want to crawl all over you and fuck your face.” She laughed.
He climbed onto the bed to lie beside her. “Your wish, lady.”
She rose to her knees, a little intimidated even though she prided herself on knowing her way around the bedroom.
He drew her up his body until she straddled him. And then he sank his tongue inside her and made her gasp. The sensation was incredible, and she found her hips moving and pressing down without conscious thought. She froze, worried she was going to suffocate the guy. His eyes gleamed up at her, hands squeezing her thighs, driving her to move. His fingers found her nipples, and his tongue speared her clit, and she came apart into a million pieces of sparkling pleasure.
She tried to turn around to return the favor, but he shifted away from her.
“If you touch me with that mouth of yours again, I’m toast.”
“Then you better get inside me quick.”
He grabbed a condom, tension radiating from every taut muscle of his body. He covered himself. And the sight of him jutting out had her mouth watering. Her sex clenched at the thought of having him inside her.
He lay back, and she straddled his hips and bent over to lick each of his perfect brown nipples. His fingers bit into her thighs, the only sign of impatience he exhibited, but he didn’t try to hurry her. He didn’t try to rush this. His body was a marvel of tanned skin over solid muscle. His shoulders were broad, hips narrow. A smattering of dark hair covered his chest, narrowing into a thin line down his stomach and thickening around his groin. He was beautifully made.
There was a scar on his right side. She traced it. “Bullet wound?”
“Appendix.” His eyes were amused at her exploration, but patient, so very patient. It might be the sexiest thing about him, and there was plenty to choose from.
Emotion made her throat close, and she didn’t know why. To expel it, she raised herself up and eased down over him. He stretched and filled her, and she felt her muscles ripple and clench again. She was already over-sensitized and aroused to the point it was almost painful.
“You’re so beautiful.” He reached up and rubbed her bottom lip with his thumb, and the action shot something straight into her heart.
She didn’t know what to do with the feelings though. Usually sex was nothing more than a physical release. A little fun. A game. Exercise. Tonight, it felt as if the stakes had been raised.
Which was crazy.
It was probably some psychological response to Wenck’s attack and her leap across the balcony.
To hide her reaction, she started moving on him, slowly at first, twist
ing her hips and deliberately squeezing her muscles around him every time he withdrew. Their pace increased, making them both gasp as sweat slicked their bodies. The friction was delicious and made her shake from the top of her head to her toes. Finally, as she was about to crash over the ledge one more time, he started thrusting into her deeper, hips pumping as he anchored her pelvis to him. Filling her hard and deep and so amazingly deliciously her breath came in hoarse pants. He growled softly as he came—spine bending, eyes closed, jaw clenched—pulsing inside her and setting off a chain reaction which blew the fuse on her orgasm so they both exploded together.
She collapsed, shaken to her core from the intensity of the encounter. He lay still for a few moments, holding on to her shoulders, his breath hot against her hair. Then, he carefully extracted himself and got out of bed and ditched the condom. She lay there in a sweaty heap. When Savage came back from the bathroom, he turned off the lamp, crawled in beside her and pulled her close.
He kissed her forehead. “Sleep well, Haley Cramer.”
She huffed out an exhausted laugh. “Sleep well, Quentin Savage. See you on the other side.”
She felt him smile against her hair, and she closed her eyes. Inexplicably happy, sated, and satisfied for the first time in what felt like forever.
Chapter Five
The sound of gunfire had Quentin rolling to his feet, reaching for his service weapon and finding nothing but empty space. Shit. The lack of a firearm was suddenly a major problem.
Haley Cramer sat up in bed then jumped to her feet, still gloriously naked. “What’s going on?”
“Not sure yet.”
He was impressed at how alert she was after coming out of a deep sleep, but gunfire did that to a person. His night vision was good, so he didn’t turn on the lights—he could see plenty aided by the glow from the radio alarm—nor did he want to attract attention. They’d only been asleep for a short time.
Colder Than Sin (Cold Justice - Crossfire: FBI Romantic Suspense Book 2) Page 4
