Margo wanted to talk to her uncle and find out why he had ended things with Liz. But for now she would take a nap. She hadn’t gotten much sleep last night but wouldn’t complain. Not when she had enjoyed the sexual activities she and Striker had shared. Shifting in the bed with her head against the pillow, she closed her eyes.
* * *
FREDDIE GLANCED AROUND his hotel room. The place was a dive, but at the moment this was the best he could do. He recalled the times he’d traveled for work and stayed at the best hotels around. Not anymore. When the bank had downsized, those making the most income were the first to get kicked out the door.
Scott thought he was wrong for being so bitter. But Freddie didn’t give a damn what Scott thought since Scott still had his cushy job. Freddie hadn’t gone to college for this. He was supposed to be employed for life. He’d sent in résumés, but no calls had come in, and he was tired of waiting. His funds had run out and he needed money. Bad.
So here he was in Charlottesville, Virginia, after borrowing the money to get here from his brother-in-law. He could recall the days when his sister and brother-in-law would come to him for money. And now he was crawling to them for a loan. On top of that, he’d lied and said the reason he needed money for the trip to Virginia was for a job interview.
What pissed Freddie off more than anything was Scott’s attitude about the whole damn thing. When they’d met for breakfast at Gritty’s, Scott had tried talking him out of his plans to kidnap Margo. That was why he hadn’t told Scott anything about this trip. As far as Freddie was concerned, the less Scott knew the better.
Freddie checked his watch. He would go down to the restaurant, grab something to eat and strategize. He had contacted another college friend who lived in DC, who was also down on his luck. Mark Cramer used to have a good government job, but his gambling addiction had gotten the best of his good sense. Freddie’s promise of big money had been the lure to bring Mark on board. To carry out his plan successfully, Freddie would need one more person, and Mark would know someone else who also needed money.
By the time Freddie left Virginia to return to New York, he intended to be a hell of a lot richer.
* * *
STRIKER RUBBED HIS FACE, wondering why he was torturing himself like this. He had heard Margo move around her room, had even heard her kick off her shoes. And heaven help him, he knew the exact moment she’d undressed. Who stripped down to take a nap?
He was imagining her lying on that bed naked, or wearing very little clothing, and wished like hell he could join her. She had issued an invitation, and he had turned her down. Was that a smart move or the actions of a fool?
He tried to switch his thoughts to something else, and the only other thing that infiltrated his mind was the memory of him and Margo that morning, in the shower, standing under the spray of water. There was nothing more arousing than a sexy, wet feminine body, all slick and smooth. He recalled how it had felt to run his hands all over her, soaping her up. And the driving need that had erupted within him when he’d seen the damp, downy curls covering her womanhood.
When he had lifted her off her feet, cupped her backside and tilted her hips before backing her up against the wall to thrust in and out of her, he had been consumed by a spike of desire. He’d been overtaken with lust of the most potent kind. And the pleasure that followed still had him quivering in the groin.
Inhaling deeply, he knew he had to pull himself together before placing a call to Stonewall. Since Striker had no idea how far he’d need to drive to relocate Margo, he planned to take advantage of her napping next door and take a nap himself. He would alert Stonewall to make sure the exterior was monitored while he caught a few winks.
“What’s up, Striker?”
“Checking in. About to take a nap.”
“This time of day? Um, sounds interesting.”
Striker rolled his eyes. “Get your mind out the gutter, Stonewall.”
“Whatever. We’ll keep an eye on the exterior and buzz you if we see anything out the ordinary.”
“Any more sightings of that dark sedan?” Striker asked.
“Not since last night, but we’re keeping watch. I have a funny feeling about that car. And just so you know, we’re getting another place ready for you and Ms. Connelly. A cabin. I’ll tell you where in a coded message.”
Striker nodded. The thought of him alone with Margo in a mountain cabin for no telling how long could spell trouble. But he had no intentions of breaking his rule about not taking her again.
“Get some rest while you can. Chances are you’ll be moving out tonight.”
Striker nodded. “Did Roland go home when he left here?”
“No, he’s here. Right now he’s resting on the cot,” Stonewall replied. “He still needs to take it easy, but you’ll never convince him of that.”
At that moment Striker heard sounds coming from Margo’s bedroom and went on full alert. Moans. Groans. His ears perked up. What the hell? “Stonewall, I’ve got to go,” he said quickly, knowing he sounded rushed.
“Something’s wrong?”
The last thing he would do was tell Stonewall what he was hearing. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
Stonewall was quiet for a moment and then said, “We’ll be calling later with specifics about tonight. We’ll text coded messages.”
“Okay.” Striker then clicked off the phone and listened intently. Either Margo was in the throes of some hot dream or she was intentionally messing with his mind. He had a feeling she was deliberately setting him up, probably thinking he didn’t have the ability to keep his pants zipped where she was concerned. Well, he had news for her. He was programmed to do without a lot of things he wanted. Things that could become his passion. That was the way of life for him. And when it came to his job, he took it seriously.
Granted, lust had overtaken his senses last night and this morning, but he was back in control now. He would admit she was a temptation, but he would fight it. He could fight it. And if it was a setup like he suspected, he would have to show her his resolve was better than most. The quicker she knew that the better.
With that dogged tenacity, he moved out the door. When he got to her bedroom door, he stopped. She was still making those sounds and was probably having fun doing so, figuring he would eventually come to her. Intent on catching her in the act, he opened the door, stepped in her room and froze.
Margo was lying in the middle of the bed, and it appeared that she was really sleeping. And it seemed those sounds she was making were from a dream. He wondered who the leading man was in what appeared to be the equivalent of a wet dream. He would like to think it was him, but for all he knew, it could be good old Scotty.
Striker tried not to let that possibility annoy the hell out of him. Thinking she deserved to have her dream in private, he was about to leave when he heard his name moaned from her lips. He drew in a sharp breath. So what if she was reliving memories of their time together while she slept? He could understand that happening. After all, the lovemaking had been good. Damn, better than good. But still, the fact stirred his insides and made him hard.
His gaze swept across the bed, and he wished she wasn’t lying there in just her bra and panties. And he couldn’t help noticing that her thighs quivered and her legs twitched whenever she moaned. Damn. Just what was he doing to her in the dream? Was his mouth between these twitching legs? Was his body between these quivering thighs? Inside of her? Was she on top of him? Was he on top of her? Who was riding whom?
The visual of any one of those scenarios made his erection press hard against his zipper. A degree of lust he didn’t want to think about or feel took over his mind and senses. Where in the hell was that control he’d felt earlier? That determination not to touch her again? Both had been obliterated the moment she’d moaned his name.
Moving closer, he inhaled her
scent before squatting down beside the bed. The movement brought her awake. She snatched open her eyes and jerked upright in bed, looking at him and then frantically glancing around. “What is it, Striker? What’s wrong?”
His gaze roamed over her, and then, after a slight hesitation, he said, “You said my name.”
She looked at him, confused. “I did?”
“You moaned it, actually. Must have been some dream you were having.”
His words made her blush and her expression went from bemused to knowing. Pushing a lock of hair from her face, she said, “Well, yeah, it was. I invited you to join me, but you turned me down. So I had to dream up a few what-if scenarios.”
He stared at her, fascinated. And those scenarios had made her moan and groan? Striker knew better than to ask the next question, knew he should stand and walk out the door. But he couldn’t. Not when his gaze was taking in every inch of her. Not when he was remembering how her skin had tasted all over. How he’d wanted her last night and again this morning.
And he wanted her now.
Still squatting by her bed, he leaned in and asked, “Is the invitation still open to join you?”
Striker watched as she licked her lips. His gut tightened. His erection throbbed. Her hesitation was killing him. When he thought he couldn’t last a moment longer, she finally spoke. “Yes, the invitation is still open, Striker.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
MARGO COULDN’T BELIEVE Striker was really here. In her bedroom. Crouching beside her bed. Especially after he’d told her earlier that the intimacy they’d shared last night and this morning wouldn’t be happening again. That he was putting back on his protector gear, a role that didn’t include touching of any kind. Now he was beside her bed and was so close she could reach out and touch him. She wanted to. But more than anything, she wanted him to touch her.
He said she had moaned his name. And, yes, it had been some dream. They had been making love and it was the kind of lovemaking where she’d been having orgasm after orgasm. Nonstop.
“I want to be touched, Striker. I want to be touched all over.” And she meant it. She had discovered that Striker had some real serious skills when it came to pleasing a woman. And he was looking hot, sexy and accommodating. As far as she was concerned, he needed to put those exemplary skills to good use. If he was going to break his own rule, he might as well break it real good.
“If I stay, Margo, I will do more than touch you.”
Her mind was suddenly flooded with memories. Heated memories. Lustful memories. And if Striker wanted to add new ones to those already stored in her mind, she had no problem with him doing so. “The only thing I have to say to that, Striker, is go for it.”
He stood, and she watched as he pulled the phone out of his back pocket and speed-dialed a number, then said, “Quasar, hold up on dinner. I’ll call you when we’re ready.” And then he clicked off the line and put the phone on her nightstand.
The phone wasn’t what held her attention while he’d been talking. She was eye level to his zipper, and the huge erection pressing against it definitely couldn’t be missed. He was fully aroused, and so was she. Even if she didn’t want him to know how much, her breasts were giving her away. They were tight and the nipples felt like hard pebbles pressed against her bra.
She looked up and met his heated gaze. “You have on too many clothes,” he said in a voice so sensual it made goose bumps appear on her arm.
Margo broke eye contact to look down at herself. He actually thought that? Seriously? When all she was wearing were panties and a bra? She looked back at him. “I think you’re the one wearing too many clothes...and stuff.”
The stuff she was referring to was the gun and holster strapped to his shoulder. Although she thought he looked like the ultimate badass protector, weapons had no place in her bed.
“That can be remedied, trust me,” he said, removing the gun and holster.
She did trust him. Not because she had no choice but because she wanted to. She knew where she stood with him. The man who wanted to be called Striker was a loner who only enjoyed unsteady girlfriends. Bed partners. He’d said as much. Now she’d become one of those bed partners. So what? She wasn’t looking for a steady man any more than he was looking for a steady woman. Whenever she was tempted to think otherwise, all she had to do was remember Brock and Scott and the crap she’d put up with.
She jumped when he snapped his fingers in front of her face. “You’re still with me, Margo?”
She looked at him. He had removed his shirt, and his fingers were tucked in his jeans, which meant he was about to remove them as well. “Yes, I definitely am.”
He smiled, and she thought his sensual lips should smile more often. It did something to his overall features. Made them appear less hard and more handsome.
“I might as well get comfortable for the strip show,” she said, securing a relaxed position in bed by sprawling on her side. “I don’t want to miss a thing.”
He chuckled. “You saw it all last night and again this morning. Nothing new.”
“Let me be the judge of that, Striker Jennings.” It might not be anything new, but, unless her eyes were playing tricks on her, it was definitely a lot bigger, she mused while focusing her attention on that part of him.
He moved away from the bed to stand in the middle of the room as if to make sure there was no obstruction to her view. She appreciated that. Glad he was so accommodating. And when he eased down his zipper, she could feel her heart beating like crazy in her chest.
“You okay over there, Margo?”
He would have to ask. “Stop teasing and get on with it.” She was enjoying this playful side of him. Both playful and sexy. And she needed that right now. What was going on in her life was pure craziness, but at this very moment she could push all that to the back of her mind. As far as she was concerned, lying here watching him strip naked was a hell of a lot more fun than cowering somewhere in fear.
“Be careful what you ask for.” And with those words, he kicked off his shoes and then slowly eased his jeans down past muscular thighs.
She arched up and watched the movement of his pants as they were lowered down his legs, and then she quickly snapped her gaze back to his middle, which was covered by black briefs. She swallowed thickly, thinking that she could claim an orgasm just by looking at him. Those briefs could barely hold him and the thought of all that jammed into his underwear was almost too much to handle.
She practically held her breath when he tugged down his briefs. She thought the same thing now that she had last night. The man was definitely packing it. And when he stood there naked she couldn’t help releasing a sigh of pure feminine appreciation.
“Your turn, Margo.”
Meeting his gaze, she shook her head. “If you recall, I said I wanted you to touch me.”
With a stride that made her heart beat faster with every step he took, he moved toward her and the bed. When he reached it, his gaze roamed all over her. She saw the blatant spark of lust in his dark pupils. “I gave you a warning to be careful what you asked for.”
* * *
STRIKER STARED DOWN at Margo, wearing just her bra and panties. How could any one woman stir such heated lust within him? Make him forget he needed to stay focused on her, but not this way. It seemed she had become an addiction he couldn’t kick. An itch he just had to scratch. An ache for which there was no known relief but one, and he was about to use as many dosages of it as he could manage.
He stood there for a full minute just staring at her before he finally spoke. “Do you have any idea just how much I want you?”
She shook her head, causing a mass of hair to fan across her shoulders. “No, tell me.”
“If I do, it might just scare you.”
“How can I be afraid when I have my protector with
me?”
Those words should have snapped him out of the haze. Instead they had the opposite effect. “And now your protector wants to get inside you. Pound hard. Harder. Relentlessly. And I want to suck your breasts until you think they were created just for my mouth. In other words, I want to give you a reason to really moan my name.”
She smiled and replied, “So the Striker wants to strike?”
Hell, he wanted to do more than just strike. He wanted to devour her. Without giving her an answer, he reached down and flicked open the front clasp to her bra, making the twin globes tumble out.
Striker sucked in a deep breath. He thought the same thing now that he had when he’d seen them for the first time. They were absolutely beautiful. Unable to help himself, he leaned in and, using the tip of his finger, trailed a path from one breast to the other, before using the pad of his thumb to tease her nipples. He loved the way they hardened with his touch.
His hands traced a line lower to her panties and he leaned in closer to ease them down her legs. After tossing both bra and panties over his shoulder, he looked back at her. Totally naked. Starkly beautiful.
“So, Striker Jennings, what’s next?”
His nostrils flared with her scent. “Next, I taste you all over, and then I get inside of you and—”
“And what if I want to taste you?”
He threw his head back. Imagining such a thing made a low growl erupt from his throat. Made his shaft throb even more at the very thought of what she was hinting at. If she were to put her mouth on him, he doubted he would be able to endure the pleasure. It would probably kill him, and then who would protect her?
“Not sure I could handle you doing something like that,” he said honestly, not caring if it made him seem vulnerable.
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