She kept her feet rooted to the carpet and continued to study the balcony image. “Wait a second.”
“What is it?”
She crinkled her forehead and quickly left the bedroom. Brock followed her, not at all disappointed to leave the cockroach-infested room. Her hair trailed down her back in a ponytail, and the dark strands swished from side to side as she moved. She stopped at the balcony door.
“The balcony in the picture looks familiar.” She peeled back the brown fleece material, unlocked the door, and shoved it open. A gust of wind spiraled into the unit, moving the musty air. It should have muted the stench, but somehow the fresh air enhanced the retched smell of smoke and rotten Chinese food. Brock brushed past the coffee table and stepped onto the balcony next to her. Sunlight hit the concrete.
Dani held up the phone in front of her. “Yup. This was taken here.” She pointed to the building next to Sven’s. “See that half-hanging air-conditioning unit in the window? And that black bicycle on the balcony above? Those are behind Giles in the picture.”
“He must have lived here with Sven.” He moved back into the apartment. “I’m going to sweep the other bedroom.” He made his way down the hall and to the second bedroom. After ten minutes of raking through it, he’d come up with only old textbooks and junk—no cockroaches this time.
Dani stood in the kitchen with her hands tucked in the pockets of her sweater. “Anything?”
“No.”
“At least we have something. Let’s go back to the hotel and wait to hear from Rhett.”
They had to be careful of the woman, if Dani was right and she’d followed them to the hotel, anyone could be waiting for them there. At the same token, they wouldn’t have made it this far if she was that close. “Yeah. We should get out of here.” He folded her hand in his and left the apartment. Rhett had told them to stay low, and they couldn’t take the chance of going to the authorities until he knew for sure it was safe.
* * *
“What’s on your mind?” Brock’s question popped the bubble of her thoughts. She stretched her legs in front of her, toward the window, but didn’t take her eyes off the Eiffel Tower. They had two key players in the plan to steal the Chrisolicom XII virus and let it loose in several countries—but it didn’t feel like enough.
She shrugged. “We’re at a standstill. How is it possible that we’re carrying this formula, we know Sven and Giles’s plan and where they were residing, yet it’s not safe to go to the police?”
“If you think about it, other than the map with the dates, what do we have to prove Giles is involved?”
She stood up and paced the floor. “That’s what’s pissing me off. We’re so close, but we’re missing the most important piece of the puzzle—proof he’s the one behind this.”
She stopped to take in Brock’s form. He leaned against the window, one hand shoved in his pocket. The backlighting made him appear even wider and more formidable. She took a few more steps and rested her hands on the back of the chair. God, she could stare at this view for the rest of her life. And she wasn’t just talking about the Eiffel Tower. She might never get the chance to return to Paris, and if she did, it probably wouldn’t be with Brock. She didn’t need a crystal ball to know that once they got back to San Diego, they’d fall into old patterns and the adrenaline that had brought them together in Europe would vanish. Resentment and delicious memories of his lavish kisses and generous pleasure-giving would be all that remained.
Was it so wrong to stay with someone because of the sex? Good sex had to count for something.
Brock moved away from the window and stood behind her, settling his large palms on her shoulders. Heat radiated off his muscular hands and seeped into her tense muscles like a poultice on a wound. He moved them in a circular motion and she dropped her head back and moaned. “Ah, you have the most incredible hands.”
His raspy laugh tickled the back of her neck. “And you,” he said, dragging his knuckles down her arms and back up, “have the most incredible body.”
“Mmm. I thought you were going to say mind.” Her cheeks warmed as her lips slid into an involuntary smile.
“That too.” He dropped a kiss on her neck and desire scorched over her skin, springing her nerve endings to life.
“I know it’s frustrating. For now, we need to stay safe and let Rhett work on this.”
“Have you heard anything?”
“It’s 7:00 a.m. in San Diego right now. I’m sure we’ll hear something soon.”
She nodded and let the back of her head rest against his pec. His hands continued to work over her shoulders then moved down her arms, turning her body to liquid fire. No man had the power to turn her on like he did. She hadn’t dated much since breaking up with Brock. The odd blind date or late-night drink after going out with Peyton—all had left her feeling empty and longing for the connection she’d always had with Brock. It wasn’t just the way her body fell in tune with his. It wasn’t just his irresistible smile and boyish behavior that made her float. It was something more. Something that pulled behind her breastbone and made her susceptible to every grin, every laugh, and every touch of his hand.
She wasn’t dumb enough to believe that if they survived this hellish mess, their problems would go away. All the pinnacle points of their relationship had been a result of the rush of a job. They both thrived on adrenaline, danger—and money. Working together had given them a high nothing else could. And after this was over, she couldn’t return to that life. She’d been kidnapped, and now this. God was giving her a firm warning to stop. If she was fortunate enough to survive, she’d heed the message.
“I was thinking,” Brock said, his voice gravelly next to her ear. “It might be a long time before you get that honeymoon in Paris.”
“What are you trying to say?” she asked, pretending to be offended. She couldn’t help but feel utterly relaxed when his body was so close to hers. He tickled her side and she giggled.
His laugh shook her. “Have dinner with me at the Eiffel Tower.”
Her pulse slowed, and she stopped smiling. A tiny bud of delight planted itself in her heart, but she didn’t dare allow it room to bloom. Dinner with Brock at one of the most romantic places on earth would be dangerous. But the roar of excitement in her blood was more so. She turned around to face him.
Relax. It’s just dinner.
She plucked at the material of his T-shirt and slowly inched her gaze up his chest, over his chiseled, shadowed jaw, to the warm hazel eyes that searched her face with uncertainty. A smile smoothed out his lips, and he averted his gaze.
“It was just an idea. I can cancel the reservation—”
She flattened her palm to his chest. “You made a reservation?”
He lifted his hand to sweep it over the wayward strands of his hair. “Yeah, well. I figured it wouldn’t be drop-in style.”
“How? They’re probably booked a year in advance.”
He brushed his knuckles over the loose strands around her face. “They had a cancellation. Are you going to give me an answer or not?”
“I’d love to.” Although her lips ached to grin, she couldn’t. Brock sensed her hesitation and rocked her in his arms.
“But?”
“But don’t you think it’s reckless? I mean, my face is all over the news. People are looking for me. I can’t just go to one of the largest landmarks in the world all willy-nilly.”
Pleasure lit his eyes, and his hands flexed on her back. The little bud of delight cracked open in her heart. Regardless of where their friendship stood, it meant a lot that he’d gone to the trouble of doing something so thoughtful. And the surge of desire she’d had moments before came back even stronger.
“You’re right. It would be reckless. Perhaps too reckless. Maybe it’s more like hiding in plain sight?”
She scrunched her lips to the side. “I see what you’re getting at. And at such a touristy attraction, we probably won’t draw much attention.”
“Exactly. We’ll need to get some proper clothes. As cute as you are in those jeans, I think you need something fancier.”
She kept her eyes focused on his shirt and let her hands drift down the soft cotton. “Mmm. We definitely need to get rid of these clothes.” She brought her hands to his belt buckle and loosened the leather then worked on the button. His body stiffened and his hands fell to his sides. She lifted her lashes and watched a dark shade of pink creep across his cheeks. His gaze was focused on her ministrations. Easing the zipper down, she worked her hand inside the denim and freed his cock from his briefs.
His hot, hard flesh jutted out between them. She circled her hand around his shaft and tugged in a slow, deliberate motion. His head tilted back, and a deep groan grated from his throat.
“Ah, goddamn.”
Desire pooled in her panties, and frantic need pulsed behind her clitoris. God, she needed him. She pressed her hand against the wall of his abdomen and he took several paces backward until he collapsed on the bed, his hands twitching at his sides, his dick still erect and waiting for attention. She knelt on the mattress and reached for him.
He caught her wrist. “Ah, ah. Your clothes have to go.”
She squinted at him. “You’re still dressed.”
His eyes darkened. “I won’t be for long. Besides, you’re much prettier to look at.”
Pushing off the bed, she grabbed her shirt and pulled it over her head. “I seriously doubt that.” Next, she unbuttoned her pants and pushed them down her legs.
Brock’s hard stare never left her body. She toyed with the lacy waistband of her black panties. He’d seen her naked more times than she could count, but given that it was broad daylight and he was dressed, hesitation locked her fingers.
“I want to see all of you,” he said. His words came out breathless, desperate.
Heat flared across her chest and her nipples hardened. She’d give him what he wanted—what they both wanted. Inch by inch, she slid her panties down her thighs and then stepped out of them. Reaching behind her back, she unhooked her bra and flipped it to the carpet. The cool air of the room danced over her skin, turning her already tight nipples into rock-hard buds.
Brock hissed on an inhale and stretched out his hand. “Come here,” he growled. She grabbed his hand and he tugged her onto the bed at his side.
She squealed with laughter and he grinned, but the heat in his stare continued warming her blood. He roamed his hands up the back of her thigh and stopped on her ass. He toyed with her skin, working his fingers in slow, deliberate circles. Then he brought his fingertips to the V between her cheeks and slipped his fingertip over the wetness of her folds. She jumped out of reach and climbed on top of him.
She was taking control this time.
“Hey, I wasn’t done.”
“Neither was I. Take these off.” She pulled at his jeans and shirt until he lay naked before her like a bronzed, ripped Grecian god. She caught his dick in her hand and lowered her mouth to his cock. One of his hands clamped her shoulder and the other one fisted the bedding at his hip.
“Jesus.”
She smiled and swirled her tongue around the satiny tip then took the length of his shaft into her mouth. The erect muscle throbbed against her lips and Brock’s deep groans urged her on.
His fingertips sunk into her shoulder. “Stop, babe.”
She lifted her head and continued to stroke her palm up and down his hardness. “Why?”
He reached down, caught her arms, and pulled her on top of him. “Because I want this to last.” He settled her legs on either side of him and splayed his hands around her waist. She guided him to her opening and lowered her weight down. He stretched her, and she rocked back and forth until he settled deep inside her.
She let out a moan as she ground against him. Her hands pressed into his chest, holding her upright. He trailed his hands over her butt, hips, and breasts. She watched as Brock’s eyes turned heavy. Each pump of her hips brought a groan from his lips. Pleasure warmed her belly and built at her clitoris.
She arched her back and he clamped his hands on her ass cheeks and lifted his hips to match her thrusts. Her heat spread with each retreat and deep penetration. She curled her fingers against his brawny skin and dropped her head back, surrendering her body to the orgasm mounting in her loins.
He moved his hand around her abdomen and rubbed his thumb over her clit. A burst of ecstasy exploded inside her, and she gushed with each grind of her hips. Her folds pulsed around her release. Brock returned his hold to her hips and jerked inside her.
“Dani!” he cried. “Dani.” She dropped her chest to his as he unleashed his climax. His movements slowed until they finally came to a stop. He dragged his hands over her naked back, sending fresh goosebumps over her skin.
He rolled her onto the bed and she settled on her belly, her body weightless, her muscles tingling. He trailed kisses down her spine and nipped her butt cheek.
She snorted out a laugh, the sound lazy and muffled against the pillow. She swatted his arm. “Let me rest.”
“No rest. We’ve got a date.”
He disappeared into the bathroom, and the promise of those words exploded the tight bud in her heart, letting the rose of happiness bloom.
For now, she’d enjoy every minute of this.
CHAPTER 15
Dani smoothed her hands over the red sequined gown. In the mirror, the changeroom’s lights caught each fleck, sending sparkling beams around the cubicle. Too much. She sighed and took a step back. Brock would probably love this dress. The spaghetti straps looked much too thin to hold her breasts in the swanky material but they did—even somehow accentuated her cleavage. The gown hugged her waist, hips, and thighs to spill open near her feet. When she moved, the slit at her thigh revealed her just-shaved legs.
“You must like this one. You’ve been in there ten minutes. Let’s see.” A hint of impatience coated Brock’s voice.
She unlocked the door and stepped out, lifting her hand to her hip. “No I haven’t.” She turned to the mirror, showing him the expanse of her bare back. “I like this one. A lot. But it’s kind of flashy, don’t you think?”
When he didn’t answer she glanced at his reflection. His gaze lingered on her lower back, his mouth slack and his elbows resting on his knees.
Satisfaction pulled at her insides. It had been a long time since she’d been the recipient of genuine male appreciation, and when it came from him . . . Her stomach flip-flopped. “Brock?”
He flicked his gaze to her eyes and snapped his mouth shut. Pushing to his feet, he stopped several inches behind her back. “You look stunning.” He trailed his fingertip down her spine, and she turned around and caught his hand.
“You can’t do that here,” she whispered.
He swiveled to look behind him at the mostly vacant store. “I can think of a lot of things we can do here. But if you’re not down for it, you’d better get out of that dress.”
“That’s one way to get arrested,” she said, cocking her eyebrow. “Think I should get it?” She fished at her side for the price tag, but he stopped her.
“Get it. I don’t care what it costs. We’ll get a lot of use out of it.”
She worked her tongue around the inside of her mouth. While she liked gifts as much as the next woman, she had her own hard-earned money stored in the bank account she couldn’t access.
Brock turned and scooped up his tuxedo bag from the chair he’d vacated. “C’mon. You still need shoes.”
She pushed all thoughts of money out of her head. If it came to it, she’d reimburse him, but he sure as hell wasn’t hard up for cash.
“And a clutch,” she said. Stepping back into the changeroom, she slid off the dress. The slinky material glided down her body with ease.
And tonight, it would do the same thing.
* * *
“I’ll have to remember to come here again in the off-season.” Dani lifted the glass of champagne to her lips. From the top-lev
el deck of the Eiffel Tower, she stared out at the breathtaking view. Green grass spread out below the tower, where couples lay on blankets with picnic baskets. Many took pictures of the Iron Lady. The sun had set, but licks of mauve still colored part of the sky, and old French houses dotted the landscape. Stars began to peek out of the dusk.
Brock stood next to her on the deck. The tuxedo fit him like a glove and the crisp white shirt made the tone of his skin that much richer. His eyes looked ocean green. She’d always loved how his hazel eyes adjusted to his mood and certain colors of clothes and lighting made the various hues stand out.
“Me too. I’m so glad we did this.”
She sucked back another sip and the bubbles popped on her tongue, exploding in rich flavor. The breeze picked up and swirled over her exposed skin. She shivered and Brock stepped closer, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.
“Want my jacket?” The crease between his eyes revealed his concern. He seemed fearful she’d want to cut the night short. Not a chance. It could be blizzarding right now and she wouldn’t leave.
She shook her head, adjusted her new clutch, which hung over her shoulder, and burrowed closer to his side. “This is perfect.”
“Good.” His hand closed over her bicep, branding her skin. “Are you full?”
“Oh my god, I’m so stuffed,” she said with a laugh. She rubbed her distended stomach but didn’t regret a single bite. “That bread was incredible. I’ve never had anything like it.”
“Mmm. Best steak I’ve ever had.”
His thumb churned in circles over her skin. She tilted her head back to stare at his profile. “What are you thinking?”
He brought his glass to his lips and drank then returned it to the bar table nearest him on the deck. They could have taken one of the few open tables, but standing at the railing taking in every inch of the skyline would make it easier to commit the moment to memory.
A vein bulged at his temple and then returned to normal. “I was thinking how fucked up this week started—well, still is, I guess—and how incredible it is to be here right now despite our circumstances.”
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