by Linda Bond
He didn’t resist.
She couldn’t remember a time she had wanted a man more. She ached physically to connect with him. But it was about more than just that. She’d fallen in love with this man.
The realization stilled her.
He must have sensed her hesitation, because he whispered her name into their kiss. He stepped forward, urging her backward. The back of her legs hit the bed. She let herself fall. Landing on the bedspread, the rough, thick material did nothing to stop the hard rush of desire ripping through her. He followed her down, covering her with his body.
She pushed up and into him. She was so high on adrenaline and need, she thought she’d have an orgasm without even taking her clothes off.
He made a guttural sound and slowly rocked his hips, grinding his hard cock into her. “You drive me crazy.”
“I’m the one who’s going crazy right now.” Anxious to feel his flesh against hers, she reached down to undo his fly. His hands met hers. Together they battled, quick and clumsy, over the metal buttons.
Moaning an incoherent medley of words, he jumped off the bed. He pulled off his shirt, his shoes, and pulled down his jeans and boxers, reaching into the pocket before tossing them aside and sheathing himself.
The moonlight filtered through the drapes, allowing her enough light to make out his muscular arms and chiseled chest. Another wave of desire rocked her flesh with goose bumps. His abs were ripped and his thighs muscular, but it was his cock that had her breathless. Jesus. She clamped her legs together, her muscles clenching with desire.
She followed his lead, tearing off her clothes in fast, furious movements, while never taking her attention off his body. She tossed her clothes over the side of the bed.
He crawled back onto the bed and pulled her to him. She rolled on top, mesmerized by how hot his flesh was. Her goose bumps melted into liquid fire, warming her from the outside in. She leaned down for a kiss—achy, wet, and needy. “Please touch me now.”
He laughed a hot breath into her mouth, denying her what she longed for, and rolled her onto her back. He pulled her arms high above her head and gathered both of her hands into a vise hold, rendering her helpless.
“Zack, you’re such a control freak.” Her heart fluttered, scared by the wave of vulnerability washing over her and, at the same time, high from the way his actions pushed her closer to the point of release.
“You, my dear, are the control freak.”
She bucked against his hold—part in play, part in earnest. He held her wrists with his left hand, while his right hand tickled its way down her side, fingers moving across her stomach, walking over her hipbone. She squealed as he hit a particularly sensitive spot.
She wiggled beneath him and struggled to free her hands. Not that she wanted to get away, but the intensity was almost too much to bear. She shut her eyes and arched her back, straining against him. With a sigh, she melted into the bedspread, ready for him to take her.
“Not so fast,” he whispered.
The lingering was like torture. “Why not?”
He nuzzled her neck. “What’s your rush? On deadline tonight?”
“Always on deadline.”
“And always so demanding?” Zack let go of her hands and spread her legs wide.
The sudden and brazen move shocked her. She’d never felt so exposed.
He ran one finger over the most sensitive part of her, now swollen. She bucked up at the bliss that little touch caused.
“Is this what you want?” He stroked her, his fingers expertly massaging her, until the tide within her began to swell and rise.
She couldn’t hold back much longer. She moaned. “Yes. That feels so damn good.”
“You’re so wet.” He sounded pleased.
She pushed against him, wanting more. “More. I can’t wait.”
“Greedy little…”
She grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down, forcing his mouth back onto hers.
This time he didn’t fight her. As his mouth consumed hers, he moved his body over her and thrust into her. He was huge and the friction of his entry sent a tidal wave of pleasure over her. When the length of him filled her completely, she cried out. “Zack!” Grabbing the bedspread with her fingers, she closed her eyes as the delicious rippling of a slow orgasm overtook her. Oh, God, she’d needed this.
He moved slowly at first, but she clawed at his back, wanting it harder and faster. She couldn’t get enough of him. She needed to feel him. She’d been starving, and hadn’t even realized it, but this was the feast she’d been craving all her life.
“I love you.” She whispered the words against his moist skin as she savored the pleasure.
His body froze.
So did she.
Omigod, I didn’t just say that.
He lifted his head. “Samantha, I—”
She waited. Her heart trilled against her chest like fast fingers on a flute. Oh, please. An unexplainable ache roared through her. Say something. Anything.
He bent down to kiss her, and she tasted salt on his lips. “Please, let me in” she said. “Tell me what you’re feeling. I need to know.”
He answered with another deep kiss—slow but strong enough to keep her from forming any more words. Her body pulsated, waiting for him to start moving again, to pick up the intensity, to get back to where they were before she’d thrown out those careless words and doused the raging fire.
But her heart was also desperate for him to return her sentiment in words, not just actions.
…
Zack sensed her emotional withdrawal. She wasn’t kissing him back with the same abandon as before. He wanted—no, he needed—her wet, hungry, and wanton as she’d been just seconds ago.
Just tell her, the voice in his head screamed.
But loving words had never come easy for him. He had to find a way to show her he loved her. He reverted to the way he knew best, the thrill of physical pleasure.
He continued to kiss her, not letting her speak again. Her lips, swollen from their rough kisses, had proven her passion.
Now he was going to prove to her that she couldn’t live without him, because he knew now he couldn’t live without her. He was going to make her cry out with uncontrolled pleasure. Make her his forever. Leave that mark on her like he’d told her back at the Orange Grove sink. He stroked her, slowly and deliberately. He also rocked his hips, picking up the pace again. He knew how to hit her spot internally. Once he did that—
“Zack,” she moaned and arched her back.
His heart swelled. He loved the way she moaned his name and pushed against him. He had plenty to give her. He’d been waiting all his life to find the right person to receive the love he’d bottled up.
Her hands grasped his head and tugged at his hair.
She was close.
He intensified the speed. She was so fucking wet, and that was all the proof he needed that she was his. First, her thighs stiffened, then her back arched again, and she let out a sound he couldn’t describe. Just watching her joy pushed him over. He lost himself in the ripples and tremors of her muscles as they gripped his cock. He threw his head back and came with her.
Tell her. Tell her.
His heart beat against his ribs. If he didn’t, she’d think it was just sex to him. He glanced down at the woman still physically connected to him. Her hair was spread across the white sheets in dark waves, her eyes were closed, her chest rose and fell.
It’s now or never. Don’t think. Just do.
He whispered in her ear, “I love you, too, Samantha. I do.” A cramp seized his chest. “No matter what happens next, don’t forget that.”
…
He loves me.
The hot, pulsating water from the showerhead beaded up on Sam’s shoulders. Her fingers were waterlogged and wrinkled, but she couldn’t move. She just wanted to stand in the searing heat and revel in the euphoric sensations still humming through her body. But she knew if she did, she’d probably pa
ss out from the heat and sheer exhaustion, so she finally stepped out of shower.
She reached for a towel, a slow smile spreading across her face. For the first time in days she felt weightless, high on endorphins. She wrapped the soft terry cloth around her body and stopped to listen. Was Zack calling out to her? His voice filtered through the closed bathroom door. No. He was talking on the phone. Who could he be talking to at three thirty a.m.? Quickly, she tiptoed closer to the door. She put her ear against the wood. Her heart pounded out an unsteady beat as she listened, hating herself for being so suspicious, but unable to let the reporter in her go.
Or the wary lover.
“I know. I agree. Look, I’ve got to go.”
She held her breath. He stopped speaking, but she heard other people talking in the background. What was going on?
“Okay. I don’t know.” Zack’s voice again. “I’ll try. She’s pretty determined.”
Was he talking about her? A slow burn spread through her. She threw open the door.
He had turned on a table lamp. He sat on the bed, head resting on the backboard. He put down his smartphone in one smooth motion. Then he smiled at her. Perfect. Casual. Charming.
“Who were you talking to?” She didn’t care if she sounded suspicious.
“George.”
“George?”
“That’s what I said. How was that shower? You look…hot.”
“Funny.”
“What’s wrong?” His eyes widened, but he didn’t really look surprised.
“Why were you talking to George? He’s not asleep?” She noticed Zack had thrown on his boxers.
He was still smiling. Confident. Sexy. “I was asking him about the video.”
“What video?”
“The one playing on my laptop. George brought me the video card.” He turned his laptop so she could see.
The images George had shot at the marina played full screen. Robert and his uncle were talking on the deck of the yacht. That was what she had heard? The video?
“He set that up for you? When?”
“While you were cleaning up.” His eyes, red and glassy, twinkled. “You take a long shower.”
She bit back a smile. That explained it all. The voices she’d heard. They were the voices of Robert and Scott Fitzpatrick playing on the video.
Zack raised his eyebrows then patted the bed next to him.
She smiled. “I need to put on my—”
“I want you to sleep naked.”
She tilted her head to one side. “So, you don’t want me to sleep at all?”
He shook his head slowly, his smile wicked. “Not really.”
An uneasy thought still nagged at her. She put her hands to her hips and her towel slid down over her breasts. Quickly she grabbed it and covered herself. He watched her with definite interest.
“Why did you ask George to set up the video so you could watch it if you had more sex on the mind?”
He shook his head again, but this time his energy had changed. “I just needed to see his face.”
“Whose face? Robert’s or his uncle’s?”
“I needed to see a close up of the man who orchestrated my uncle’s murder.”
She examined the screen. The two men were talking, but she couldn’t read lips, and since they hadn’t had microphones near the men at the time, it was impossible to hear the conversation. So, it couldn’t have been them she’d heard from the bathroom.
“What do you hope to see? It’s not like he has his motive typed across his forehead.” She regretted the comment as soon as the words left her mouth. She hoped the contrite look on her face would work as an apology.
“That was rather nasty.” Zack stretched his arms above his head.
His abs rippled like sand dunes in the Sahara. What a distraction.
“I intend to find out the motive, but not tonight. Come to bed.” He winked at her, thankfully not upset at her insensitive comment.
Wanting to make it up to him, she walked over and slowly spun around, dropping the towel.
He didn’t have to say a word. His body did the talking for him.
She smiled.
The room emptied of all sound except the drone of the air conditioner. She took in the sweet smell of sex and approached the bed with her best Victoria’s Secret runway walk. “Sorry, but this is not my idea of a romantic movie.” She closed his laptop and placed it on the dresser.
He rolled over to one side and shut off the table lamp. She settled into the bed behind him. His body was already familiar, her knees fit into the curve of him like perfect pieces of a puzzle connecting.
She wrapped her arms around his waist, inhaling his male scent, and whispered sexy words in his ear until he turned toward her and answered her back. His fingers spoke another language between her legs. Her eyelids fluttered as she fought off the urge to drift away into a blissful, orgasm-fueled sleep.
The low buzz of his phone vibrated against the countertop.
“George calling?”
“Ignore it.”
Oh, God, his fingers moved like magic.
“You’re much more important.”
She arched her back as the waves of a powerful release swept her away for the third time that night.
…
The chill woke her. She shivered under the little blasts of arctic air delivered by the air conditioner. Shivering, she reached for her human heating pad.
One long sweep with her arm turned up nothing.
She sat up. No light filtered through the window. What time was it?
Zack had piled the sheets high on his side. Frowning, she wrapped a blanket around her body for warmth. “Zack?” The light in the bathroom wasn’t on. “Are you in there?”
The whiny air conditioner rattled her, as did the fact the room felt so empty.
The clock on the nightstand read five a.m.
Her heart picked up speed and she reached over to turn on the lamp. Glancing at the nightstand, she saw his cell phone was gone.
“Zack?” This time she said it louder, with just a hint of irritation. And fear.
He was coming back, she told herself firmly. Trying hard to believe it.
Hell, she didn’t even know his cell phone number. She’d forgotten to ask. Maybe George had his number.
Maybe he went to get coffee…
No, Zack probably took off to meet up with his cop friends and bust Fitzpatrick on the yacht. And he’d left her behind
So she wouldn’t video it? Or maybe so she’d stay safe.
Either way, so much for them working as a team. “Damn it!”
She rolled off the bed and took the blanket with her. Checking the dresser for a note, her gaze landed on the empty spot where she’d left Zack’s laptop.
No, he didn’t. But he had.
Her heart fell ten stories.
He’d taken his laptop and George’s video card, too.
The evidence. Zack had taken all the evidence George had shot.
And abandoned her.
No note, no nothing.
Just like her dad had abandoned her mother.
She shook off the thought, knowing it wasn’t nearly the same thing. But she couldn’t stop the anger and disbelief that coursed through her.
Digging through her purse, she pulled out her cell phone. “George, wake up. Zack left with the video card. We’ve got to get back to that yacht.”
“Huh?”
“Right now. Before both the snake and the cop get away with our story.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
At 6:20 a.m., Sam and George arrived at the Adventure Yacht Harbor just as the red glow of dawn barely peeked out above the horizon.
George carried little gear, just the camera, a microphone, and a fanny pack. Sam had her cell phone in her jeans pocket, a small purse over one shoulder, low heels, and a hidden secret weapon—their undercover camera worn under her shirt, barely poking out of a buttonhole.
Her heart thumped as they approa
ched the marina. A few cars were parked in front of the restaurant. The lights were on inside, and a waitress moved around the dining room. Could anyone inside see them? Would they notice George’s video camera and run out to see what was going on?
She grabbed George’s wrist. “I’m nervous. You?”
He halted. “Ya think? This was your call, hotshot.”
Yes, it was. Just a few weeks ago she wouldn’t have made this kind of gutsy call. She slid her hand into George’s and pulled him along, away from the restaurant’s window. “Let’s just do what we came to do, and get the hell out of here. Don’t look at anyone. Don’t make eye contact. Don’t stop. Just follow me. We’re not messing this up.”
“Yes, general.”
She tiptoed down the sidewalk, praying her shoes weren’t making too much noise. Before she could count to ten, they stood next to Catch Me if You Can.
Her heart was no longer fluttering. It was now galloping inside her chest. God, she should have left her boss a more detailed message. Maybe even talked to him about this first.
“Okay, the yacht is still dark,” she whispered, stopping behind a utility shed. “We’ll just camp out here and wait until they come out.” She took a seat on a rock and squirmed to get comfortable. It was no use.
George scrunched down in front of her, his tall body barely hidden by the shed. “Man, you are brave these days.” He was peering around the corner at the yacht as he spoke.
Brave and a bit reckless. Acting more and more like Zack? She wrinkled her nose at an odd smell, almost like smoke, curling into her nostrils.
She tried to clear her head of the odor. A sound right behind her left ear sent a chill rippling down her spine. It was a metal click, followed by two more. She recognized those sounds. Holy crap!
George whipped around. His camera was still in his hand, but he didn’t lift it. In fact, he didn’t move a muscle. Nor did he take his eyes off what was behind her. “Sam, he’s got a gun.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Robert Fitzpatrick shoved her into the doorway, using the hard steel of the gun barrel at her spine to force her forward. She stumbled into the salon of Catch Me if You Can. Her gaze darted around in a hasty inspection, looking for doors, windows, stairs, or any avenue of escape.
