by Rachel Grant
He knelt before her, bringing his face level with her breasts. He kissed a trail south while his hands slid between her thighs and stroked between her legs. With a gentle nudge, he indicated she should widen her stance. She groaned and obeyed, spreading her legs for his touch.
He breathed in her scent and slid a finger inside her. Holy crap, she was so ready for him. He gazed upward. With closed eyes, she whimpered. It was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen.
His mouth found her center. She gripped his shoulders and rocked on her heels. He separated her folds with his tongue and groaned at her slick heat. “I’ve been aching to taste you forever,” he said against her center. “And now I’m going to feel you come against my mouth, just like we talked about.”
She was sweet and hot against his tongue, and with each stroke she let out a sexy whimper. He felt her knees tremble and knew she perched on the precipice of orgasm. The fire warmed his bare back and sweat beaded on his neck while her breath came out in sharp pants. She pulled back from his mouth, attempting to stop him from making her come. “Make love to me, Curt. Now.”
He shook his head and laved her center while sliding fingers inside her slick heat. “Come for me, sweetheart.”
“No.”
He cupped her bottom and pulled her to his mouth. He licked her clitoris, then sucked on it and lightly grazed it with his teeth. He felt the exact moment she tumbled off the precipice, and only iron will kept him from following.
He maintained pressure with his tongue, and her orgasm continued until her knees gave out. He caught her and lowered her to the carpet. The scratchy rug wouldn’t do for the first time he made love to her. “Be right back,” he said and escaped into the bedroom. A moment later, he returned with blankets and pillows and spread them out before the fireplace.
She stretched out with a sated smile. He lay down beside her and gathered her against him. Golden firelight caressed her smooth skin as her mouth relaxed in a sensuous smile. He kissed her, a slow, thorough kiss, claiming her for his own.
She reached for the condoms and opened a foil packet, then slid the latex over his erection, and he gasped at the feel of her hand as she explored him, cupped his testicles, and slid her hand up his hard shaft.
How had he managed to resist her on their journey? All he wanted was to bring her pleasure, make her laugh, and take away her sorrow. Love her body and mind.
She opened her thighs and gripped his hips, pulling him to her. Unable to resist a moment longer, he pressed against her opening. His lips found hers, and he delved into her mouth with slow, sensual need.
“Please,” she begged.
“Now,” he agreed and filled her in one swift motion.
She was so hot and slick and, sweet Jesus, tight, he could come right now. Lightning-like jolts of pleasure shot through him. He held still, reveling in the thrill of being inside her, with her. He kissed her, deep and slow.
Her hands cradled his face. “I love you, Curt.”
And with those words, his heart soared. Unable to remain still a moment longer, he thrust with slow, deep strokes. Those lightning jolts intensified with each thrust. She moaned and gasped, and he felt like the superhero she wanted him to be. In moments, she was frantic and trembling, but despite her urging, Curt maintained the slow, erotic pace. In absolute control. He slowed further when she begged him to go faster. “No, love. Don’t rush.”
His mouth found her nipple, and she clenched tightly around his cock. He let out an uncontrolled groan and quickened the pace.
She smiled and clenched tighter, rocking her pelvis into his. Another notch of control slipped, and he moaned against her chest, “Mara, you’re killing me.”
“Come for me, Curt.”
“Not yet.”
She gripped his butt and ground her hips against his, and it was his turn to tumble off the precipice. He thrust into her hot, urgent, and, thankfully, bringing her over the same edge. He came in a single burst of lightning that erupted from his core.
He collapsed, bathed in sweat and panting.
She ran her fingers through his hair. “You’re mine. Finally.” She let out a contented sigh. “The moment you put yourself between me and the firing squad, I fell, hard.”
He slid out of her and adjusted his position, rising up on his arms as he did so. Bending his elbows, he lowered himself, push-up style, and kissed her, an openmouthed kiss that promised hours more of pleasure. He dropped down on one elbow to her side. “I was taken with you the moment I saw your dignity and strength.” He traced circles on her belly. “I haven’t let myself get close to someone since I was sixteen because I was afraid of not being in control. I sent a kid to the hospital—”
“He pulled a knife on you.”
“I know. But when I think about Evan—and what he did to you—I want to dig up his body and kill him again. I’m a prosecutor; I’m supposed to believe the system will mete out justice. But no judge or jury could bestow what Robert Beck and the others deserve. I spend my nights searching for the evidence necessary to convict him, when all I really want is to go to his house and tear him apart with my bare hands.”
“If you do, promise me you’ll let me kick him in the balls a few times.”
Since he’d never allow her within a mile of Robert Beck, he said, “Sure.” The mantel clock chimed, and he sat up and cursed. “Hell. I was supposed to meet Aurora twenty minutes ago to draft the plea bargain. I didn’t want to do this—make love to you and run—but we can’t release the jury without a signed agreement, and they’re sequestered. It would be shitty to keep them longer just because I’d rather spend the night making love to you.”
He left her side to dispose of the condom. When he returned, she handed him his clothes. “When can you come back?” she asked.
The firelight on her skin tested his commitment to the very nice jurors who’d given up weeks of their lives for civic duty. But he had a duty to them. “You’ll be moved tomorrow. It’s not a good idea to keep you in the same place for long. Your uncle rolled on Raptor. His word alone isn’t good enough for indictments, but you can back up several of his claims. Beck will be twice as anxious to get to you.” While he spoke, he pulled on clothing.
She wrapped the blanket around her naked body and moved to the couch. “Why did he do it? My uncle has his faults, but greed isn’t one of them.”
“It’s a long story—and I’ll tell you the whole saga later—but the truth is, we were both right about him, and we were both wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
He’d looked forward to this moment ever since he’d determined Stevens had told him the truth. He could restore a small amount of honor to her view of her uncle. “He traded the arms for hostages, and—he claims, and I believe him—the plan to get the smallpox bomb was originally to destroy it in place. Robert Beck, with the help of Evan and Roddy, betrayed him.”
“He gave weapons to a war criminal.” Her lips tightened. “In Bosnia I saw firsthand what war criminals do. Killing children is just as heinous in Darfur. He’s going to prison?”
“He’ll get five to ten years.”
She pulled the blanket tighter and looked down. “A lot of people died thanks to those weapons, didn’t they?”
The best estimate was a hundred and twenty, but after trying to shatter her relationship with her uncle for weeks, he found he couldn’t deliver that blow. He stopped dressing and knelt before her. “Stevens arranged the deal, but it was Beck who took blood-soaked money from a Janjaweed militia leader. You’ll remain in protective custody until after Beck is convicted.”
“How long will that be?”
He had to tell her the truth, no matter how much she’d dislike it. “At least a year.”
“A year?” She looked crestfallen. “Will you be able to visit me?”
“I won’t work the case. We’re involved, and you’re a key witness. I expect a special prosecutor to be appointed. So yes, I will be able to visit you. Often. And not in an officia
l capacity.”
Her eyes widened. “I thought special prosecutors only investigated government officials? Raptor is private. Are you saying a politician is involved?”
He’d hoped to avoid telling her the rest until after her meeting with the secretary of state. He probably already suspected he was under investigation, but if Mara accidently tipped him off, it would be that much harder to gather evidence. But she had a right to know the truth. “Yes—”
A knock on the door interrupted him. “Mr. Dominick, Ms. Garrett,” the guard said, “the secretary of state is here to see you.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CURT FACED MARA with wide, shocked eyes. “How did he find you?”
“I called him,” Mara said. Her heart began to pound, and she didn’t know why. “He finally called me back about ten minutes before you got here. I gave him this address so he could come over tomorrow and interview me. Why would he be here now?” But she didn’t need to ask that question; understanding came crashing down before the words left her mouth.
Adrenaline flooded her system. Through the door she heard the secretary demand entrance, but the guard refused him.
Curt scooped up her clothes and dropped them on her lap. “Play along,” he whispered. “Act normal. Raptor won’t strike while he’s here, but when he leaves, I’m getting you out of here.”
She pulled on her underwear as Curt grabbed his shirt and slipped it over his head. He crossed the room to the door. “Give us a minute,” he yelled.
“Mr. Dominick,” the secretary said through the door, “I don’t have time—”
“She’s naked,” Curt said, cutting him off.
Mara laughed in spite of the churning in her belly. She still didn’t understand how the secretary could be involved. Jesus, she’d really screwed up.
“We need more evidence against him for an indictment,” Curt whispered. “If he believes I’m here just to get in your pants, he might feel complacent and make mistakes.”
She fastened the slacks and adjusted the blouse. Curt stood in front of her and gripped her shoulders. “You ready?” he asked.
She nodded.
He kissed her, a firm, openmouthed kiss that restored her confidence. He leaned his forehead against hers and whispered, “I love you,” then shouted toward the door, “Come in.”
His mouth was on hers when the door slammed into the wall. “Of all the stupid, unprofessional—” the secretary blustered. “Jesus, Dominick. You’ve not only destroyed your shot at attorney general, you’ll be lucky if you aren’t disbarred.”
In a remarkable display of indifference to the man’s predictions, Curt’s lips remained on hers throughout the tirade.
He lifted his head and smiled at her, his hazel eyes bright with emotion; then he flipped an internal switch and faced the secretary in full shark mode. “The trial is over, Mr. Secretary. I’m free to pursue a relationship with Ms. Garrett.”
The elder man paused, and Mara studied him. He’d aged since she met him last—at least three years ago, when he’d still been in the senate. His stately gray hair had fewer streaks of brown now, and the world map of wrinkles around his eyes had deepened.
“So the news was accurate? Stevens pled guilty?” he asked, scanning Curt.
Curt threaded his fingers through hers and squeezed. “Yes.”
“Did he implicate Raptor?”
Curt raised an eyebrow. “I’m not at liberty to divulge anything until the indictments come down.”
The man stepped farther into the room. “If he did, Stevens’s word won’t be good enough. He’ll say anything to get a reduction in sentence.”
Mara bristled. She knew the penalty for arms trafficking with foreign agents was five to ten years, and according to Curt, that was what he would receive. Her uncle had received no concession for naming names.
“Mr. Secretary,” Curt asked. “Why are you here?”
“I wanted to check on Ms. Garrett before I have her moved.”
Curt stiffened. “Why do you think you’re moving her?”
The man approached the sofa, saw the pile of blankets and pillows before the hearth, and shook his head in disappointment, then sat on the edge of the seat, as though fearing sex cooties.
Mara snickered.
“She asked for my help. I’m helping her. She said she didn’t want to be under your control.” The man flicked a cold glare at Curt. “I could assume her opinion has changed, but before I believe that, I’m going to insist on speaking with her alone.”
Curt’s grip on her fingers tightened. “No.”
She squeezed back. “It’s okay. He’s right. I did say I didn’t want to be under your control. I was”—she grinned sheepishly—“upset.”
With a guard outside the door, it had to be safe to speak alone with a man who desperately wanted to avoid being implicated. “Why don’t you wait outside?” she said to Curt.
Curt’s stare was short but meaningful; then he leaned down and kissed her. “You’ve got one minute.” He stepped into the vestibule, leaving her alone with the man who was fourth in line for the presidency and who was probably up to his eyeballs in dirty deals with Robert Beck.
THE GUARD GREETED Curt with a smirk. “Impressive, Mr. Dominick.”
Curt grimaced. “She’s not a conquest. I’m nuts about her.”
The bald, hulking agent grinned. “Hell, we all figured that from the insane security you set up for her.”
“Which is compromised now. We need to leave.”
The man’s brow furrowed. “You don’t think the secretary—”
Curt gave a short nod. “We need to leave. Now. You have a car?”
The man nodded. “In the garage.”
“Get it. We’ll meet you out front.”
The man snatched keys from his desk and darted out the door. Curt plucked out his cell and hit the button to dial Lee. He had no choice but to bring Mara to Lee’s place while he arranged for a new safe house. As he waited for Lee to answer, he pivoted and returned to the living room.
“We’re not done talking, Mr. Dominick,” the secretary said with a glare.
Lee answered as Curt said, “I don’t care. I’m feeling uneasy. Mara, we’re leaving.” Into the phone he said, “Got that?”
Lee answered, “What’s going on?”
Mara nodded and bent down to retrieve her shoes. An engine revved behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder to see if the agent had extracted the car from the garage that quickly. Bright, blinding lights cut through the vestibule window and shone through the open door.
Curt jammed the phone into his pocket and lunged for Mara. He gripped her arm and shoved her ahead of him. The engine roared as they dove for the bedroom door on the far side of the room.
Behind them, the vestibule crashed inward, and a backward glimpse revealed a truck. Beaming headlights canted upward as the vehicle came to a stop half in the vestibule, half on the front steps. Then the room exploded in a flash of orange.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
BLINDED BY SMOKE and deafened by the explosion, Curt covered Mara as best he could as debris rained upon him. He placed his mouth next to Mara’s ear and shouted, “You okay?” but could barely hear his own words above the ringing in his ears.
He felt her nod, and again shouted. “The bedroom! We can get out that way.” He rose to his knees, uncovering her.
He nudged her forward, but she shook her head. Her muted yell barely penetrated. “The secretary! Where is he?”
Curt didn’t give a damn about the man, but it was clear Mara wouldn’t budge until they’d located the undeserving bastard. He’d been a few feet to the right of Curt before the blast, so he groped in that direction and quickly found him. A heavy object had landed on top of the man, who was conscious and struggling. Curt guided Mara to grab one of the secretary’s wrists and together they tugged him out from under the debris and into the closest bedroom.
The doorframe was skewed, making it impossible to close and bloc
k the roiling black smoke from entering the room, but still, visibility was better and the smoke wasn’t yet thick.
A quick perusal showed Mara was scraped and likely bruised, but otherwise unharmed. The secretary was a different story. A large shard of wood protruded from the man’s back. Curt had no idea how deep it penetrated, but unless they got out of here fast, the man wasn’t likely to survive.
Curt bent down beside him. With his mouth next to the secretary’s ear, he shouted, “You stupid fuck. They betrayed you.”
The secretary wheezed and grabbed Curt’s shirt, pulling him down to speak into his ear. Curt could just make out his words. “Raptor. They weren’t…supposed…while I’m…here…”
“Mercenaries aren’t big on loyalty,” Curt said.
“Robert Beck…he gave the orders…every time.”
“I need you to live so you can say that under oath.”
“I won’t.”
He wouldn’t live, or wouldn’t testify? Curt didn’t have time to argue either way. The house vibrated, and he felt a shift. Had the ceiling over the living room collapsed?
A noxious wave of smoke poured into the room. They had to get out of here before the whole structure went down. He leaned into Mara and shouted, “The window!”
She shook her head. “It’s barred.”
“Shit.”
“This way!” She tugged his arm and led the way to an attached bathroom. The air was clearer in the small room, and he could see the window she pointed to. “It’s so small, it wasn’t barred!”
The window, located high on the wall in the toilet alcove, was tiny. Only a pixie like her could fit through. He climbed on the seat and wrenched up the pane. Fresh sweet air wafted in, and he sucked in a deep breath, then pulled Mara up beside him. “I’ll lift you.”
He boosted her so she could slide through feetfirst. In seconds, she was outside, gripping the edge before she realized his predicament. “Curt. How will you—”
