by C. C. Gibbs
It was too late for anything but lies.
There was no forever.
The statute of limitations had run out.
Even knowing their world was being shaken to the core, a rush of gladness shone in Nicole’s eyes. “That works for me.”
Rafe’s face closed over for a moment, before he smiled. “We’re a good pair, pussycat. Right from the beginning. A triumph of serendipity over reason.”
“And me not taking no for an answer without a hissy fit,” she said, all playful sass; sure again.
“Yeah, that too.” A wolfish glint darkened his amber eyes; he wasn’t so sure he would have let her walk away. He suddenly stifled a yawn. “Sorry.” His voice was thick with fatigue.
“Poor baby,” Nicole murmured. “You’re not getting much sleep.” Rafe was often gone when she woke in the middle of the night, his schedule brutal. “Don’t feel you have to entertain me. Go take a nap.”
He rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Mom. We’re just dealing with some fallout from the Geneva attack. Nothing for you to worry about. I’ll sleep when it’s over.”
“You’re bringing in an awful lot of men.” Security was visibly ramping up, Leo was frowning more or less full-time, and while she understood she was being protected from the war plans, something beyond ordinary defense was in the works.
Rafe smiled. “Okay, it’s major fallout. But we weathered their twelfth attack, so I’ve been to this dance before. It’s pretty routine. More wine?”
“Sure. A little.” She gave herself points for responding like a mature adult; Rafe didn’t wish to discuss the subject. She understood. “Lunch was fabulous as usual.” She waved at the debris of luncheon on a nearby table.
“Teresa’s a gem. I was lucky to find her,” Rafe replied, blandly, levering upward in a supple flex of abs to reach for a bottle of local rose.
Nicole picked up her wineglass from a small mosaic table beside the chaise, then quickly set it down as tears suddenly welled in her eyes and all her stiff-upper-lip intentions melted away. “Oh hell,” she whispered, incapable of Rafe’s cool control with farewell and loss twisting her gut. “How much longer before—”
Dropping the wine bottle, Rafe swung back, put his finger over her mouth. “Come on,” he said, softly. “Don’t rain on my parade. I like feeling happy.”
Sucking in a deep breath, then another, she finally managed to conjure up a wobbly smile. “Gotcha.”
“There you go.” He gave her a sweetly wicked wink. “Compliance. That’s what I like.”
Cautioning herself not to ask for more than Rafe could give when he was only looking for a degree of normalcy in the eye of the coming storm, she grabbed handfuls of his sleek, black hair and pulled him close. “Then you better make it worth my while, Contini. Got it?”
“So you give the orders now?” A slow lazy smile, an eyebrow lift.
“Was I somehow not clear?” she purred.
His grin was bad boy perfect. “Just checkin’.” Although, he’d been on his best behavior the last few days, wanting to offer Nicole unalloyed pleasure, wanting what they had to matter somehow, wanting it to be better and brighter and sharper so even when the lights went out and the signals were lost, the memories would still be vivid. He had two, maybe three days of sweet, urgent happiness left. “Okay, now don’t give me any shit, but my orders first. Shut your eyes.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Seriously?”
“Seriously the orders or seriously shutting your eyes?” Not that it mattered; he knew how to make her obey.
“What if I say both?”
He smiled. “It’ll just delay your orgasm.”
“Hmmm.”
He knew that sound and look. “Ready to move on? If so, I apologize for the cliché, but it’s something I want to do.”
“Do what?” she asked warily.
“I said clichéd, pussycat, not depraved. Trust me.” He waited calmly.
She finally shut one eye.
He flashed her a wide grin. “You have trust issues, tiger?”
“Maybe.”
“Do what you’re told,” he drawled, “you get the prize.”
“I’d better,” she said in her bossy little bitch voice that always made him smile.
He leaned forward a little, gave her a small intimate smile. “Have I ever let you down?”
A second later, her eyes closed and he gave himself a moment to relish the lush image of her lying on his chaise, eyes shut, her skin warm and golden, her lush form on almost full display in a tiny red polka dot bikini, her beauty so precious she took your breath away.
And she was his, at least for now.
Stretching out his arm, he plucked a plump, red cherry from the bowl on the table. “Open your mouth,” he said, quietly, raising his hand with the cherry. “Uh, uh, you can’t look yet. Trust, okay?” He waited until her eyelids drifted downward again, then waited a fraction of a second more—committing to memory the sweetly erotic picture of her waiting open-mouthed and expectant—before he lowered his hand.
The instant the cherry touched her tongue, her eyes flew open and her giggle warmed his heart.
“See, perfectly innocuous,” he said with a lopsided grin. “Am I a good boy or what? Now bite.”
“You’re a romantic too,” she teased, giving him a poke in the ribs. “How hard should I bite?”
He laughed. “Goddamn sex fiend. No wonder we get along.”
“Did you ever doubt it?”
“Jesus, and I thought you liked me because I made you laugh and we both enjoyed walks on the beach.”
“Fuck you.”
“All in due time. You gonna eat this cherry or what? Or would you like it somewhere else?”
She grinned. “Same old pervert.” But she pulled the cherry off the stem and began to chew.
“Yeah, well men are fucking predictable,” he said, holding out his palm for the pit. “Feel like another one in a different location?”
She took in his playful leer. “So I have choices?” she said with a tantalizing glint in the blue of her eyes.
He chuckled. “You always have choices, tiger. The menu’s large and my dick and I are always on board for whatever you want.”
“The tower room.”
He chuckled. “Walls, twelve feet thick—your kind of perfect. No one can hear you scream.”
She grinned. “Do I detect a note of censure?”
“Hell no. Your enthusiasm is music to my ears, tiger.” He held out his hand. “Want me to carry you? Don’t answer. I’m carrying you.” His need for her burned hotter with each passing moment, the thought that he might never hold her again so sharp it hurt.
Nicole pressed her hand to her chest as though he’d spoken aloud, as though his thoughts had scalded her skin, as though mental telepathy was real and not just coincidence. “I don’t want to leave,” she blurted out, her eyes huge, pleading. “Tell me I don’t have to. Oh God, I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have said that—no I’m not!” Her voice pitched high, she stared at him with heated challenge in her eyes. “I’m not one bit sorry! And I’m not going!”
He couldn’t think of anything on earth he’d rather hear, nor anything more impossible. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he whispered. Leaning in, he slid a finger under her chin, dipped his head, and kissed her gently. “You don’t have to leave,” he lied. “No way.”
He felt her smile on his lips, heard her soft, “Thanks,” and sitting back, met her warm, sunlit gaze.
“Fairy tales really can come true, right?”
“I’ll make sure they do.” Three days tops, he thought, giving her a reassuring smile because she was watching. Although there was a small chance in hell he might win this crapshoot. “Since you walked into my life, I’ve become a believer in miracles. So why not a few more.” His smile was heartbreakingly beautiful this time. “Are we all good now?”
Swallowing her tears, she nodded.
He kissed her cheek. “That’s my girl. Now let’s check out the vi
ew from the tower room. We’ll slam the door on the world, you give orders this time, I’ll take them,” he said, sexy and low as he lifted her into his arms, “and we’ll—”
He recognized the ring tone.
“Give me a second,” he said. Picking up his cell phone from the table, he answered cautiously with Nicole in earshot. “Yes?”
“I’m in Split,” Dominic said, crisply. “I’ve come for Nicole. It has nothing to do with you. Nicole’s sister was in a bad car accident. She survived, others didn’t, but they don’t know whether she’ll live. I need you to alert your men that my chopper’s coming in. Fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Rafe said.
“Is Nicole’s phone on? I’ll call her next.”
“Yes.”
“Help her out.”
“Of course.”
A second after Rafe ended his call, Nicole’s cell rang. Even before she answered it, she knew something was wrong because Rafe picked up her iPhone from the table and without looking at the caller ID, handed it to her.
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Contents
Cover
Title Page
Welcome
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
A Preview of Seduction and Surrender
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Copyright
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 by Susan Johnson
Cover design by Christine Foltzer
Cover photograph by Lindsay Basson/ImageBrief.com/ImageBrief.com
Cover copyright © 2015 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.
Excerpt from Seduction and Surrender Copyright © 2015 by Susan Johnson
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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ISBN 978-1-4555-3258-2
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