He shrugged, ambling closer. He leaned one arm on the door frame, more than filling the space. But was it his wide shoulders or his commanding presence? “I didn’t do much but stand around.”
“Your support meant a lot. And dancing with me to keep the wolves at bay until we could leave.” She smiled, remembering his expertise and athletic grace. The smooth, oiled power of a panther. Hypnotic. Sensual. Seductive. Heat crawled up her face, and she cleared her throat. “You do a hot salsa. I mean cool.”
“Thanks, ma’am. But you were the cool one under fire. If I didn’t know better, I’d believe you really didn’t bring the statue.” His shirt hung open, displaying a sleekly muscled chest swirled with fine black hair.
Max intrigued her. His many layers—his surprising expertise in more than protection, his teasing gallantry, and his pride as a self-made man. She was drawn when she shouldn’t be. She wanted him.
If only she could fully trust him. Or was trust overrated? Dammit, she wasn’t usually this ambivalent, this... needy. This turned on.
When she met his gaze, he cupped her bare shoulders and pulled her close. “Kate. So cool and yet so hot. You make a man want to know your secrets.” His dark eyes and Kahlúa-rich voice beckoned her.
She should stop this, but her pulse throbbed with the heavy beat of desire. She savored the pressure of her breasts against his hard torso. She flattened her palms against his chest, then curved her fingers over the hot bulge of muscle.
In spite of herself, she caressed his skin, threading her fingers in his chest hairs.
Dark awareness flickered in his eyes. The heat and pressure of his arousal against her belly turned her liquid with want. Kisses—or more—didn’t have to mean anything. Just a man and a woman. Together for now. His mouth was so close. How could she deny what she wanted?
What they both wanted?
He rocked his mouth over hers, blanking out coherence with a hard kiss that obliterated everything but his taste, his heat. His tongue took possession of her mouth. She quaked. She melted. She was free-falling down an elevator shaft. She should object but she couldn’t think why. Then she couldn’t think at all, could only hold on and kiss him back.
He released her. His sensuous look morphed into his default blank mask, at the moment, every bit as seductive. “Sorry. But you’re too much temptation.”
She reeled, breathless and lightheaded. Peeling her hands from his skin, she took one step back. Heat suffused her entire body. “A glib compliment doesn’t release you from blame. You’re half naked.” She stabbed her index finger at his sternum.
“I usually don’t do things halfway.” He clamped his hand around her finger and held it against his bare chest. “Up to you, Kate.”
The hot, wild taste of his mouth lay on her tongue, and frissons of excitement raced from his touch up her arm and down her spine. He radiated heat and sensuality. His obvious desire for her triggered passion too intense to deny, and reckless urges she’d never experienced before, even in her two long-term relationships. Pure chemistry, animal attraction, but impossible to resist. Dangerous? Maybe.
She ought to retreat to her room and close the door. She ought to do a lot of sensible things, but for the life of her, she couldn’t think what they were. Her senses reeled from his heat and touch, and longing quivered deep in her body. She burned.
Sex, not commitment, Katherine. If only for an hour, what harm could come of forgetting in his arms the other dangers?
She flattened her palm on his chest. His skin was as hot as hers. “Your room or mine?”
Max’s pulse kicked him like a stun gun. Hot damn, really? She was going for it? For him?
Her eyes met his, and his entire blood supply drained to his dick. He hardened with a violent rush that shocked him. He could barely breathe.
“Kate?” How to begin? He was on fire, but he’d have to take his time or his hunger would scare her. “I’m not, I mean—”
Her eyes widened and she pulled back. “Are you trying to tell me you’re married or something?”
“Hell no, not even ‘or something.’ No relationships for me.” He watched her eyes to see if she got the full implication of what he said.
Her gaze was steady. She snuggled, the friction of her gown against his skin like flint striking a flame. “Then we’re clear. We’re just a man and a woman, together. For now.”
He held her closer, hyper aware of the lushness of her breasts and the length of their bodies touching—thighs and knees, hips and torsos—as she stood in his arms. He nuzzled her tumble of hair and inhaled her scent.
She felt so perfect that he didn’t want to move. Except lust shot through him with a furnace blast. He covered her hand where it lay on his chest and laced his fingers with her small ones. So soft and delicate. Refined. Too refined for the likes of him. But if their differences didn’t bother her, why should he even think about it? “Are you sure?”
“I know what I’m doing.” Her voice, husky with desire, hardened him to an ache that went beyond desperate.
Her breath hitched, and he tugged her backward with him into his room until he came up against the bureau. “If you change your mind, you can leave.”
Her smooth finger trailed across his lips. “I won’t. I want you, Max.”
“You’re the boss.” He captured her hand and kissed each finger. Her eyelashes drifted lower as he made his way up her arm. Biting back growls of need, he licked the tender spot inside her elbow. “Tell me what you want.”
Her chin lifted, and her lashes. Desire burned with blue fire in the depths of her eyes, as if alight from within, and a mischievous smile tilted her mouth. With one finger, she trailed a sizzling fuse down his chest to his navel. “I want you naked, so I can see if you’re this beautiful bronze all over.”
“You’re killing me.” His heart raced, and he clasped her shoulders to stop his hands from shaking. “Bonita, I crave you so much I’m on fire.” Aflame, yes, hotter than the Costa Verde sun.
She pulled the pins from her hair and let it fall to her shoulders. With excruciating slowness, she unfastened the black onyx cufflinks and slid the garment from his shoulders and off his arms. She tossed it onto the small pile of clothing on the floor. “This tux looks amazing on you. And off.” Her fingers went for his fly, but he brushed them away.
“Later. This will be over way too soon if you keep going. My turn.” With one index finger, he traced the plump upper curves of her breasts above the gold gown’s low neckline. She sucked in a breath when he delved inside to stroke one nipple to pebbled arousal. He moaned when her eyes closed.
He reached behind her and lowered the zipper, and the gown slithered away, leaving her in tiny pink panties. “Beautiful.”
“I’ll bet you say that to everyone.”
“Only women, darlin’.”
Her breathy chuckle cranked the heat even higher.
He bent to her left breast, brushing his lips over the puckered nipple, laving and tasting the unique sweetness of her skin, before focusing the same attention on the right. He cupped one hand on the silk at the apex of her thighs and coaxed a sigh from her. Sliding aside the fabric, he parted the slick folds and pushed one finger into her heat. Ah, perfect. As he brought his mouth back to hers, her little hitch of breath nearly undid him. Her hand reached for him and he batted it away. “Let me pleasure you. We have all night.”
A tossup who was more aroused. He growled low in his throat. Ay, he might die from the sweet ache. Some guys went right for release, but he loved the slow build nearly as much. With her he needed all the self-control he could muster. It was all he could do not to flip her onto her back and drive into her, hard and fast. He didn’t want to rush with Kate. He wanted to imprint on his very cells the sweet-and-spicy scent of her, the catch of her breath, the brush of her skin on his.
He stroked her with one finger then eased in a second. Nudging her legs wider, he circled her center. Her slender hands gripped his biceps and she writhed against him.
How could he have ever thought her aloof and cold? Tomorrow she’d wake up and remember who and what he was but tonight passion would obliterate their differences. And he’d dive into her fire.
“Come for me, bonita,” he rasped out.
He stroked deeper, circled her faster, more firmly, pushed her higher and higher until he felt her climax grip him. He plundered her mouth, stroked her with his tongue, absorbed her sweet cries. She clung to him, arching against his hand and shaking from her climax.
He held her, brushed his lips against her damp temple as she regained her breath and her senses. He’d never forget how beautiful she looked coming apart in his arms. A sleepy bird call floated in on the night breeze. Far away, a deep voice shouted and another answered. The only other sound was the thudding of their hearts.
“Now I want more.” Kate’s grip on his arms eased and she tugged on his waistband. Heat shimmered between them. She kicked away her panties and stretched out on the sheets, the sight more erotic than any fantasy he could’ve come up with. “I want to feel the length of you on top of me.”
He skinned away the rest of his clothing and extracted a foil packet from his toiletry kit before he joined her. “A different kind of dance, darlin’. Much closer than salsa.”
“And hotter.” Her small hand gripped him. “Now, Max, now.”
“Dios, you’re killing me, woman.” Currents of heat swirled in his blood, lapping tension higher and higher. He was close to losing it, too close to exploding. Strange, he never lost control with a woman. Restraint was his rule, but not now, not here, not with Kate.
He donned protection and drove deep into her welcoming body. She gasped as he thrust, and a quiver raced through him. Intense pleasure swamped him, spiking every nerve ending as she wound herself around him like a flaming ribbon. He found her mouth and they thrashed together on the big bed, no stopping, no slowing down, no holding back, only full speed demanding all the other could give. He wanted to give her all possible pleasure but damn, he could hold out only so long.
And then her muscles tightened around him and her nails scored his shoulders and her moan filled his mouth. Finally, oh, finally, he let himself follow her over the edge, going rigid and pouring himself into her.
Chapter Twelve
Her clothing gathered in her arms, Kate closed the connecting door behind her and laid her head against the wood. Her lungs pumped like a bellows, and every cell and fiber in her body still throbbed with heat. God, what had she done? Had she lost her mind?
Probably. Possibly. Definitely.
She pulled herself away from the door before temptation could take hold again. Her shoes landed with a clatter on the tile, and she let the gown slither onto the chair.
She hugged herself and took a deep breath. No surprise his scent mingled with her lotion. His hands had been everywhere. He had been everywhere. She’d never experienced such total focus as in his every touch, every kiss, every caress. After pleasure beyond any she remembered, she’d surfaced in Max’s arms, wanting nothing more but to stay there and explore all those burnished muscles and experience again that heat and liquid fireworks.
But the surprising tenderness in his eyes had jerked her back to reality and a glimmer of sanity. She could list a thousand reasons not to get involved with Max, first and foremost because of what she might face in the jungle, the choices she’d have to make. Her chest tightened, and she knitted her hands together.
But also because they were way too different. The experience and qualities—suspicious nature, combat skills, rough edges—that made Max ideal on this expedition were the very ones that made him so wrong for her. A man whose middle name was danger? She shook her head.
Once Doug was rescued and Kizin in its temple, she’d return to her museum desk and drinks and dinners with guys in suits at Georgetown restaurants. As she headed to the bathroom, a little voice in her head murmured the word dull.
After taking care of necessities, she slipped on her sleep tee and panties. She stared at the cool sheets—the unmussed sheets—and the empty bed before sitting on the mattress.
Somehow she’d managed to leave his arms. She kissed him and dragged herself out of his bed. Before her escape—she could call it nothing less—what did she say? No idea. A garbled excuse mumbled in the foggy afterglow of amazing sex.
Whatever she said, she glimpsed hurt in those beautiful dark eyes only a millisecond before his default grim mask slammed down. He must’ve experienced some deep pain and wanted never to be vulnerable like that again. Was it a terrible loss in combat? Or did his defensive toughness stem from his childhood? No dad, and he’d barely mentioned his mom before shutting off that topic.
Whatever it was, Kate ought to be grateful his barrier was up again. Perhaps the shock of reality had hit Max too, and they’d both return to professional distance.
She eyed the door a long moment, then turned off the bedside light.
And yes, his skin was bronze all over.
***
In the jungle
Doug’s head ached like he’d just taken that half-gainer off the hotel balcony. The morning’s ground shudder had been a big one, like Mama Earth was trying to shake off the humans irritating her. His wooden-frame cot had collapsed, so Franco hoisted him into the wheelchair.
The tumble to the boogying ground had whacked Doug’s head a good one, but at least he was vertical now. Fuckers still kept his hands tied but didn’t uncover his stash. He couldn’t move the damn wheelchair with his hands tied, but his headache was receding.
Voices outside cranked his pulse. What now?
Al hustled in with the folding chair and placed it opposite the wheelchair. He backed out of the way as a man entered—the damn Maya priest who’d conned him and kidnapped him. If Luis was a priest. But given the bowing and scraping, he must be some high muckety-muck. But no damn way would Doug use the Maya title of respect.
Luis waved a hand, dismissing Al, and lowered himself onto the chair. No cheap suit like when he came to see Doug in the States, just dark pants and a white collared shirt. He sat perfectly straight, his hands on his knees. Unsmiling, he stared as if he could see inside Doug. Fucking eerie.
Doug forced his hands to relax in his lap. Forced his gaze to lock with that of Luis. Forced his breathing to slow. And waited. He’d faced some tough negotiators. It never paid to show your cards or any emotion.
“My men make you comfortable?” the man said in a conversational tone.
Doug held up his bound hands. It was all he could do not to roll his eyes. “Shit, yeah, it’s like being the guest of Vlad the Impaler.”
A slight frown crimped the other man’s forehead, his only reaction. “That is good. You bought the statue of Kizin in England, sí?”
Doug nodded.
“From English man named Sedgwick?”
His pulse kicked up again. Chill, Fontaine. “Alistair Sedgwick. I told you that in D.C.”
“Why he wants Kizin now?”
So this was about Kizin. Doug couldn’t yet see how, but maybe this news gave him some leverage. “Dunno.”
“Why he buy Kizin?”
“Sedgwick’s a big collector.”
Luis cocked his head. “He sold the statue. He wants it again. Why?”
Like Doug could read Sedgwick’s mind? He raised his shoulders slowly, lowered them incrementally. “Second thoughts? He here in Costa Verde?”
A blink was all Doug caught, but he figured he’d hit it right. Sedgwick had followed the thief to this backwater. Doug wanted to know the same damn thing this man did. Why was ol’ Alistair so hot for Kizin?
“You know this man. Try.” He leaned forward, placing his forearms on his knees. The change in posture revealed a huge blade in a belt holster.
Sweat streamed down Doug’s spine. Shit, did these Maya still practice blood sacrifice?
He was getting nowhere by stalling. “Probably regretted selling such an important find. Buying it back’s no big deal to him. Sedgwick’s a ri
ch dude. He could buy Kizin from the thief for twice as much as I paid him. Who’s the thief, anyway?”
The priest heaved a sigh before standing. He turned and strode from the hut.
Crap, Doug had overplayed his hand. Pushed when he should’ve stayed cool, pulled the dude in, drawn him to ask more questions. Luis saw he had no answers. But he’d be back. Doug would bet his secret stash on it.
He twisted to feel the object in his pants pocket. He smiled.
The tremor had dumped him, yeah, but it also tipped over the table, and his breakfast dishes. He cheered inside like he won the Super Bowl when he secreted a dinner fork in his pants pocket. A cheap-o fork but the thing had four sharp tines. The old woman who brought his meals hadn’t ratted on him—who knew why—but he’d take what he could get.
Life was good. Hell, at least more tolerable without the lumpy mattress’s inhabitants crawling over him. Thank God his brain was healing. He could concentrate longer. Shadows of memory made him think someone had helped him fall. He’d remember sooner or later.
For now he needed free hands and an opportunity to use his weapon.
He stopped there with the impossible wishes. Wouldn’t think about escape.
***
Cabo Blanco
Max finished his coffee and chose a mango from the fruit bowl on their table. A rain shower early that morning didn’t cool things off. Instead it stoked up a steam bath. Quiet reigned in the plaza except for pedestrians dodging steaming puddles. Breakfast was served in the hotel bar, so he would easily spot their two guides when they arrived.
Kate probably hadn’t slept any better than he did after she left his bed. Her eyes and shoulders drooped as she picked at her omelet. Otherwise, she looked good enough to eat in a flowered sundress that hugged her fine breasts and skimmed her knees. Her hair was bound in a ponytail and damp after a shower—no, he wouldn’t picture her naked and wet.
On Deadly Ground (Devlin Security Force Book 1) Page 11
