Without Warning

by Desiree Holt

  When she dropped to her knees before him, as he’d done for her, the image was so erotic he was afraid he’d come before she even had a chance to touch him. He had presence of mind to reach into his kit on the vanity and pull out a string of three condoms before he lost his mind altogether.

  “Optimistic?” Sam’s voice shook.

  “Hopeful.”

  She went back to work easing both his slacks and his boxer briefs down at the same time. Like her, he kicked off his shoes, managed to toe off his socks and kicked his slacks and boxers to the side. She danced her fingers down the line of hair that arrowed to his groin, brushing the tips over the thick nest. His balls ached with need and his cock was swollen and throbbing.

  Touch me!

  He wanted to shout the words, but he forced himself to stand quietly while she explored him. But when she wrapped those slim fingers around his shaft and gave the head a gentle lick he couldn’t swallow the groan. She slid her fingers between his thighs, cupping his sac, while she took the length of him in her mouth.

  Jesus!

  He rocked back and forth, his shaft sliding in and out of her hot mouth, her satiny lips closing around him like an erotic vise. He knew he had to stop soon or it would be all over, but the sensations that swept through his body at her touch were so addicting he wanted them to go on forever.

  “Shower,” he gasped, urging her to her feet.

  He reached in and turned it on, testing it until he was satisfied with the temperature. Then he took her hand, helped her inside, put one of the condoms in the soap dish, and took the bottle of scented bodywash the hotel thoughtfully provided. Pouring some into his hand, he worked it up into a thick lather and began applying it to her body.

  He was mesmerized by her body, the gentle swell of her stomach, the curve of her hips, the roundness of her breasts. Her arms and legs were graceful as a dancer’s and just as deceiving, their strength belying their delicate appearance. When he had finished with her front he turned her and began the same process with her back. He carefully kneaded each bump of her spine, and massaged the suds into the curve of her buttocks.

  Very tentatively he slid his soapy fingers into the crevice between her cheeks, waiting to see if she would pull away from him. She tensed for a moment but then relaxed, braced herself against the wall, legs spread, and leaned back into his touch. He slid his hands around to her front, over her lips and down her stomach to find that hot, wet slit again. If he was hard before, Blake’s dick was like granite now. He ached everywhere with consuming need. Just touching her clit with the tip of his fingers heated his blood and sent electricity to every nerve in his body.

  “My turn,” she whispered, turning around.

  Her fingers were soothing as she smoothed lather over his tight muscles in slow, teasing strokes. Blake didn’t know how long he could maintain his control, as close to the edge as her touch brought him. He gritted his teeth as she smoothed the soap over his body, swirling it in the hair on his chest and around his hard nipples. The light scrape of her fingernails across the flat, hard buds sent shards of fire straight to his balls and made the vein circling his shaft pulse and throb.

  When she knelt before him he wanted to yell stop and plunge himself into her right then. Somewhere he found the tenuous threads of control to keep it together, but he didn’t know for how long. Her strong fingers worked the lather into the muscles of his thighs, up to his groin, and wrapped around his dick until he had to bite his lip hard to keep from coming. Jesus! This woman did things to him, made him feel things, no other woman ever had.

  But when she stroked him up and down, her hands slick from the foam, he closed his fingers over her wrist and moved her hand away.

  “I’ve only got so much control,” he told her in a hoarse voice.

  He urged her to her feet and lifted her to the bench. If he was going to maintain any kind of control, he needed to take her edge off first. Because once he was inside her it would be a race to the finish.

  With one of her legs resting on his shoulder, she was completely open to him. He sucked in his breath at the sight of her so pink and ready for him. Massaging her clit with his thumb, he slid two fingers easily into her waiting sex, loving the sound as she inhaled sharply. He cupped her head and held it in place, watching the change of expression.

  He began a steady rhythm with his fingers, in and out, her inner walls clutching at him. She leaned back against the wall to steady herself, the heel of her foot digging into his shoulder as he increased the pace of thrust and retreat. She was so hot, so slick, so tight it took his breath away. Another rub with his thumb on her swollen hot button, another deep thrust with his fingers, and he felt the spasms begin inside her sex. He increased his speed, adding another finger.

  “That’s it. Come for me, Samantha. Come now.”

  She bore down on his hand and in the next second the spasms gripped her. He held her steady in place with his free hand while she rode the other. She was still trembling with aftershocks when he grabbed the condom, rolled it on, and with his hands holding her in place lowered her onto his raging hard-on.

  Oh, sweet Jesus!

  He saw stars as lightning flashed through his body and her slick walls closed tightly around him. Gritting his teeth to maintain some semblance of control, he pressed her until her back was against the shower wall.

  “Hold on tight, darlin’. And don’t let go.”

  He wanted to take it slowly, to savor every stroke, linger in that hot well of her body, but by now he was too aroused. Gripping her hips, he drove into her again and again, harder and faster.

  “Look at me,” he rasped.

  She opened her eyes and he saw such a swirl of emotion in there he nearly lost it. He leaned forward, placed his mouth over hers and slipped his tongue inside. And that was all it took. One more hard thrust and he exploded, the muscles in his back tightening, his cock pulsing as he came again and again and again. And Samantha, despite the fact he’d made her come already, was right there with him, closing around him like a tight, wet fist.

  When the last throb, the last spasm had died away, he eased from her. After disposing of the condom, he lifted her off the bench and gently rinsed both of them. He turned off the shower, helped her out, on to the bath mat, and grabbed big, fluffy, warm hotel towels for both of them. He stood her facing him while he dried first her body then his.

  Neither of them said a word but both knew something irrevocable had changed between them. He thought he could spend the rest of his life doing this. Being with her. The fantasies he’d carried in his mind all these years paled into comparison with the reality. While she didn’t say anything, he sensed the same feelings in her, only pushed back behind the emotional wall she’d erected. He was pretty damn sure she had no more idea how to deal with it than he did, but by God he was going to find a way.

  Just as soon as they got rid of the crazed stalker.

  Finally he carried her into the bedroom and tugged the covers back on the bed. When they slid in, he spooned around her, one arm around her cupping a breast, his cock nestled against her bottom. He was just on the edge of falling asleep when she spoke.

  “Blake?”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “You were right. It was a lot better than eating or having a drink.”

  He laughed softly, kissed her cheek, and fell into a sleep where he dreamed of a naked Samantha.

  Chapter 11

  The stalker sat in his bedroom working to control his rage. Nothing had gone as he planned today. He had thought it all out so carefully, everything calculated to throw Morgan off his game before the book signing that night. He’d had hope when he saw how angry the man was in the parking lot of the Driftwood in Arrowhead Bay. But it seemed the more he pushed, the calmer Morgan became. Either the man hid his emotions well or he was so coldblooded that nothing bothered him.

  Or Vigilance was
coaching him, which was just as bad.

  Angrily, he was coming to believe it was the latter. Otherwise how could he have done what he did, without even a twinge of conscience? He hadn’t even shown the reaction the stalker expected when they’d found the Morgans’ neighbor. What kind of man didn’t rant and rave and go bananas when someone nearly got killed because of him? A decent man would have canceled the rest of his book tour.

  But of course Blake Morgan wasn’t a decent man. He was selfish, egotistical, and a people user. And he was going to make sure the world found out. But first he was going to destroy the man’s career, then the man himself. It was no less than he deserved.

  He lifted the knife from its place on the nightstand, stroking his fingers over the sharp blade. He’d carried the weapon with him in Arrowhead Bay just because he liked the feel of it hanging in its sheath from his belt. As he stroked the knife, irritation at today’s events surged through him again. He had taken such care crafting this note, printing it out in the hotel’s business center and placing it on the car when Morgan and the woman were inside the coffee shop. The possibility of detection out there on the street only added an additional thrill to the task. To have it thrown away was an insult to him he wouldn’t soon forget.

  But tonight was even worse. He had taken a chance and eased into the back of the crowd in the bookstore, just to get a glimpse of the miserable bastard rolling in glory that wasn’t his. While everyone was enthralled with the man, the stalker had placed his “gift” to him in their rental car, using a knife similar to the one he had now. There weren’t many places to hide in the parking lot where he could watch, but he managed to find one behind the dumpster and used his binoculars.

  He cursed steadily under his breath when nothing he expected happened. Where was the horror he expected? The yelling and screaming? It was that damn bitch he was with, coaching him not to respond. He’d wanted to scream. Then they’d taken off for the same house they visited earlier in the day. He’d be too exposed if he followed them, but he could track them on his tablet with the dandy little GPS unit he’d placed beneath the car.

  Who lived in that house? He’d done a search but the county records only listed the name of a company that apparently did not exist. Whoever this was had to be friends with Vigilance. What had they asked him to do with the “present”? He still had no idea what they’d done at the place earlier. And why hadn’t there been a reaction to his hacking into the laptop? He’d deleted the man’s damn files, and sent him a message that should have caught his attention. Why were they acting like nothing had happened? Was that why they’d visited the house earlier? He’d give his left nut to find out what went on in that place.

  Fuck all. This just was not going the way he planned.

  But one thing he did know. There was hardly a person who could top him in cyber electronics. Whatever they set up to trap him or block him, he could get around it.

  He pulled up the photo again, looking at the sweet face on the screen. For her. He was doing it all for her. For what she’d been cheated out of. Maybe he should skip their next stop, give them a false sense of security. Yes, that was it. And he’d return with even better ways to torment the almighty Blake Morgan.

  * * * *

  Blake was more than relieved when the next stop on the tour went off without a hitch. There wasn’t a hint of the stalker anywhere—no notes, no incidents. Nothing.

  “Maybe he decided Washington D.C. was too dangerous a place for him to pull his stunts,” he joked over breakfast in their room the next morning.

  “Possibly,” Sam agreed. “He might think there are too many opportunities for things to go wrong for him. But you can count on one thing. He’s far from done.”

  Blake frowned. “You think so?”

  She shook her head. “Think about it. We don’t even know yet why he’s doing this, what terrible thing you’ve done. He hasn’t made his point yet, or gotten his revenge.”

  “I still wish I knew what brought all this on.”

  “And I wish I knew if he’s planning to hurt someone again. He’s tasted blood and it didn’t throw him off his game. That’s when you get a feeling how dangerous someone is.”

  “But that was an accident of circumstance,” Blake pointed out.

  “Yes, but he’s got a taste of it. We need to be extra careful. The next one could try to point the finger at you.”

  His jaw dropped. “Me? Anyone who knows the least little thing about me would never think I’d hurt anyone.”

  “What is it I said? Desperate people do desperate things under the right circumstances.”

  “So what do we do? How do we prepare for it?”

  Sam shrugged. “Just be as alert and prepared as we can be. Avery had a suggestion and I think it’s a good one. We have reservations at the hotel in Philadelphia. We’re going to leave them as well as the plane reservations, but we’re changing stuff up.”

  “Like how?”

  “The Philly date isn’t for three more days. We’re going to leave here this afternoon and get there two days ahead of time.” She picked up her phone and scrolled through to her notes. “There are a couple of flights we can choose from today. Avery has checked what flights have seats available at the same time. She doesn’t want to make reservations because he hacks into the airline manifests. If he gets the least smell of us leaving here early he’ll do that and be prepared.”

  “So what’s the plan?”

  “Someone will met us with last minute tickets and get us the hell out of the terminal and onto the plane before anyone knows we are there. Hopefully we’ll leave the stalker, who is sure to be watching for us, with egg on his face.”

  Blake broke off a piece of muffin and chewed it while he thought about what she said. “He won’t be happy.”

  “But you’ll be as safe as we can make you.”

  “Don’t you think it’s strange,” Blake said, “that we haven’t seen him or gotten any notes here in D.C.?”

  “I do,” Sam agreed. “But my senses tell me he’s here. I can feel it. Maybe even staying in the same damn hotel.”

  “Then why haven’t we heard from him this stop,” Blake asked, “or gotten any notes?”

  “He’s playing with us. Maybe he thinks he’s giving us a false sense of security while he gets ready for his next episode.” She looked around. “I’m going to call Avery and have her send someone to sneak our luggage out of the hotel.”

  “What about when we get to Philadelphia?”

  “We’ll leave the hotel reservations as they are, but we’ll be staying at a different place. Just like she did for us here, Avery’s made the reservations in both places in the name of a phony corporation they use for things like this.”

  “How do we get away with not showing identification at the front desk when we check in?”

  Sam laughed. “Leave it to Vigilance, okay? We often have to stash people who have to remain anonymous. The office will take care of it.”

  He chased the muffin with a swallow of coffee. “Okay. I guess I’ll just trust you people to do what you do best.”

  Sam winked at him. “Because we are the best.”

  He wanted to tell her she was the best in his book, but they hadn’t yet reached that point in their relationship. Things were good between them, but he could tell Sam still had her reservations. Maybe she still hadn’t forgotten the egotistical boy who’d been such an ass. He was doing his best to prove he wasn’t that guy anymore, but he figured it was just something that would take time. And maybe they wouldn’t be able to deal with it until the stalker was caught and they could breathe easily for a change.

  “Avery texted me before with an update on Grant Kennelly.” She took a sip of coffee.

  “And?”

  “He’s doing better. They moved him into a private room and Sharon is there practically all the time.”

&
nbsp; “I thought her sister came up from Sarasota.”

  “She left a couple of days ago when they were told Grant was stable.” She set her cup down carefully. “Avery told them that since what happened was part of a Vigilance operation, the agency was covering what his insurance didn’t.”

  “Good, because they’d never take it from me.”

  When they went to fetch the car, Blake approached it with every muscle in his body tense, surprised and only slightly relieved when there was no message under the windshield wipers. Then he reminded himself this was a different car. Vigilance had sent someone to play switcheroo with the cars, passing the new keys and a slip with the parking slot to Sam in the bar.

  “I feel like I’m in a James Bond movie,” he joked, automatically turning to look behind them as they climbed into the car.

  “If you insist on checking the traffic in back of us,” Sam told him, “use the mirror on the visor. Don’t keep turning around to see if he’s behind us.”

  “I wouldn’t know if he was, anyway, so I don’t know why I’m even doing it.”

  “Because it’s a natural reaction.” She reached over to touch his arm.

  He gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Don’t mind me. I’m just not used to being in a situation like this.”

  “Who is? And remember what I said. He’s got something else up his sleeve.”

  “So I should expect something shocking in Philly?” He swallowed the sour taste in his mouth.

  “Something, anyway.” Sam looked over at him. “I’m sorry, Blake. I know you want to believe he’s done, but—”

  “I know, I know. I’m not really that stupid. Just hopeful. And I think you’re right. He’s trying to throw me off my game so he can come back with another whammy.”