Kari indulged him, tugging her T-shirt over her head. His gaze darkened at the sight of her white bra, which barely held in her endowments. It wasn’t a push-up, but it squeezed her breasts together in a sexy way.
He groaned, covering her breasts with his hands and taking her mouth again. She kissed him back hungrily, arching at his touch. When his thumb brushed over her taut nipple through the fabric of her bra, she gasped against his lips. Even that slight barrier was too much. She was too eager, too sensitive.
“I need to take this off,” she said.
He released her immediately. “Good idea.”
She unclasped her bra and let it fall to the ground. He wanted to stare, but she didn’t have any patience for that. She brought his hands to her breasts, delighting at the feel of his rough palms cupping her soft flesh. He trapped her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, watching her face as he applied gentle pressure. His hands looked so beautiful on her, dark and strong and long-fingered. Her legs began to tremble and her panties got wet. She bit down on her lower lip, afraid she might come just from this.
He must have understood how close she was, because he glanced around the room, assessing all possible surfaces. The plastic table wouldn’t hold their weight. Her work counter was a little too high. He backed her toward the stack of handwoven rugs in the corner, lowering his mouth to kiss her again.
“Wait,” she said, holding his arm. Before they lay down, she grabbed a drop cloth, protecting the merchandise.
They both laughed at her compulsive behavior. Then his lips met hers, and all of her concerns drifted away. There was only here, and now, and him. She unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, her fingertips dancing over his chest. Her mouth made a mew of approval as she explored his taut muscles.
“You must work out,” she said, smoothing her palm down his flat stomach.
With a low growl, he grabbed her wrists, holding them over her head as he stretched out on top of her. She could feel the rasp of denim on her tender inner thighs, the jut of his erection against her cleft. It felt big.
Trapping her wrists with one hand, he reached under her skirt with the other, removing her panties. She moaned when he stripped the damp fabric away from her sensitive flesh. The flimsy white cotton snagged briefly on her ankle strap before he tossed it aside.
It felt strange to be naked except for a skirt and sandals. She was completely exposed to him, her thighs parted, sex bare.
He just looked at her for a moment, his gaze on her mouth, her breasts, between her legs. She hoped he liked what he saw. When his eyes met hers, she moistened her lips in anticipation, desperate for him to get on with it.
In no particular hurry, he released her wrists and sat back on his heels, unbuttoning his distended fly. He pushed his jeans and shorts down to his knees, freeing his erection. It bobbed up against his flat belly, heavy and thick.
Kari wanted him inside her. Her inner muscles clenched in anticipation, her body greedy to accept his. Driven by a desire she’d never known before, she fisted her hands in the well-worn denim skirt, lifting it higher. He studied her tingling flesh, his nostrils flaring. She knew she was wet, glistening.
Her nipples were ruddy and puckered, her eyes half-lidded.
He stretched a condom down his length and placed the blunt tip against her. She barely restrained herself from lifting her hips to seat him. Teasing her, he slid the head of his penis along her slippery cleft, rubbing her clitoris.
She groaned, so close to climax she could taste it. Her chest was flushed, her tummy quivering. “Please.”
He gave her what she wanted, plunging his thick cock into her, all the way to the hilt. She cried out as her body sheathed him, grasping tight. He paused a moment to let her adjust, and she needed it. She felt stretched to the limit, full of him. Trembling with anticipation, she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Okay?” he asked.
“It’s better than okay,” she panted.
Watching her face, he drew back and drove deep again, wrenching a gasp from her lips. He repeated the motion, hitting the perfect angle, maximizing her pleasure. “Yes,” she said, beyond shame. This was too good to feel bad about. “God, yes!”
His hands gripped her hips, sliding her up and down his length. She sobbed out loud, wanting more. Harder. Faster. When he didn’t find a pace to suit her, she dug her heels into the cloth and lifted her bottom off the ground, rising to meet him.
“Slow down, honey,” he said, trying to still her movements. “You’re going to make me come too fast.”
Mindless in her own need, she ignored him, sliding her hand down her belly. He watched, transfixed, as she worked her hips in a pagan rhythm, pressing her fingertips to her clit. The combination of sensations hurled her into a bone-melting orgasm. She bucked against him, convulsing in ecstasy.
When she drifted back down to earth, he was gazing at her, an appreciative expression on his face. She might have felt embarrassed about taking matters into her own hands if he hadn’t enjoyed the show so much.
His cock pulsed inside her, hard and hot. “Do that again.”
She didn’t think she was capable of a second orgasm so soon, but when she traced her stretched opening with her fingertips, circling her swollen clitoris, the tension inside her recoiled. He drew himself out and eased back in, rocking against her. This time, the ride to the top was gentler, but no less intense. He felt deliciously stiff. Reveling in the slick friction, she locked her legs around his hips and cried out again, dissolving in pleasure. He followed her this time, his shoulders quaking as he found his own release.
They didn’t lie there together, basking in the glory of great sex. Adam was polite enough to lift his considerable weight off her. He withdrew from her carefully and went to the bathroom to dispose of the condom.
Kari’s languid satisfaction disappeared with him. She became aware of how she must look, her legs splayed wide and her skirt hiked up to her waist. The back door was unlocked. Anyone could walk in.
She tugged her skirt down and grabbed her sweater, wrapping it around her naked torso. What had she just done?
She didn’t even know Adam. This wasn’t the beginning of a beautiful relationship. It was a mindless fuck on the floor. With a stranger who would arrest her in a heartbeat if he discovered her secret.
Feeling queasy, she awaited his return.
* * *
After her shift was over, Maria slipped out of her work smock and snuck up to the second floor, keeping her eyes peeled for Armando.
She didn’t think anyone had seen her hide Agent Foster. Chuy had been busy with Sonia, and then he’d taken care of some customers. It was business as usual at the Hotel del Oro.
Moving quickly, she used her card key and slipped inside the damaged room, undetected. Her stowaway wasn’t on the bed, where she’d left him. Had he wandered off, or been discovered by another staff member?
Pulse racing, she locked the door behind her and entered the room, searching for him. The bathroom door was open. She peeked in.
He was sprawled out on the floor by the toilet.
“Dios mio,” she said, covering her mouth with one hand. “Are you sick?”
His eyelids fluttered and his head lolled to the side. He was obviously ill. His T-shirt was damp with sweat, his face wan. Wincing in sympathy, she rifled through her purse. She’d bought a Coke at the vending machine, hoping a bit of caffeine would wake him up. Maybe she should have purchased some crackers to settle his stomach, too.
“Drink this,” she said, cracking the top open.
With her assistance, he sat up to take a drink. When the liquid stayed down, she gave him a little more. “Feeling better?”
He settled against her shoulder, drifting off.
“Oh no,” she said, putting the Coke aside. “You can’t stay here all night. We have to get you up and walking again.”
His eyes opened, bleary and unfocused. “Let Armando kill me.”
“You don’t mean that,” she said, but he was already asleep again. She disentangled herself from him and stood, pacing the bathroom. What was she going to do? She had to get him out of here before they were caught.
Although she didn’t have any experience with drug addicts, she knew of two ways to sober men up. The first was with food, which he might not be able to handle. The second tactic involved cold water.
She tapped her chin, considering the shower stall. He was already dirty.
“You need a bath,” she said, eyeing his soiled shirt with distaste. When he didn’t protest, she knelt to untie his ratty tennis shoes. The socks underneath were clean, oddly enough. She stripped them away, revealing his long, narrow feet. He had nice-looking feet, for a man. She frowned at the thought, shaking her head.
When she tried to unfasten his belt buckle, he roused, locking his hand around her wrist. “What are you doing?”
“Taking your pants off.”
He blinked at her a few times. “I can’t … perform.”
“Good.”
His head rested back on the floor and he let her continue, staying half alert. His boxer shorts were blue pinstriped and looked new, like his socks. She tugged his jeans down his legs and folded them.
“Don’t search my pockets.”
“Okay,” she said easily. “Sit up.”
Groaning, he managed to lift his upper body off the floor, and she pulled his damp T-shirt over his head. Although his skin was clammy with perspiration, he didn’t stink. She’d sat next to men on the bus who smelled worse.
He was also more fit than she’d imagined. His arms were well defined, his stomach muscles etched into hard flesh.
Glancing away from him, she studied the shower area. There was no tub, and he might not be able to stay upright on his own. She’d have to get in with him. “Look away,” she warned, taking off her jeans.
He averted his eyes, obedient.
She unbuttoned her shirt and set it aside, making a neat stack. In her plain cotton panties and serviceable white bra, she didn’t make a seductive picture. And he was too loaded to care.
“Into the shower,” she said, helping him stand. He was cooperative but clumsy. It took every ounce of strength she possessed to get him into the stall, and she felt very awkward, pressing her naked skin against his.
Panting with effort, she reached behind him to turn on the faucet. Cold water hit his back, shocking him fully awake. “Hey!”
“Stay still,” she said, hugging him around the waist. “I’m helping you.”
He endured the icy spray for a moment, but it didn’t have the desired effect. Although they were both soaked, and shivering from cold, he wasn’t in his right mind. His hands wandered over her slippery skin, cupping her bottom. He obviously didn’t understand what she was trying to wake him up for.
“Stop that,” she said, slapping his hands away.
He had the wherewithal to turn the water off, and the nerve to stare at her dripping body, zeroing in on her wet underwear. The white fabric was now transparent, revealing her nipples and the dark triangle between her legs.
Maria realized that she’d succeeded in rousing him, but not the way she’d intended. “Let’s go,” she muttered, urging him to step out of the shower. He was harder to manage now, trying to grope her again and almost losing his balance on the linoleum floor. When she finally got him to the bed, he gave up on pawing her and passed out cold.
She sat at the edge of the mattress, filled with frustration. He’d asked her not to go through his pockets, but she had no choice. Storming across the room, she searched his jeans. He had a bag of drugs, a wad of cash, and a cell phone.
She turned on the phone, dialing Kari’s number.
“Hello?”
Maria let out a slow breath, relieved. “How did it go?”
“I can’t talk right now,” she said.
“Are you at the store?”
“Yes.”
“Is your sister there?”
“No.”
Maria moistened her lips, wondering what had happened. “I’m going to be late.”
“Why?” Kari’s tone changed from melancholy to alarmed. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Everything is fine. I’ll be home in a few hours.”
Kari insisted on coming to the hotel to check up on her. Maria convinced her not to. They ended the call, each worried about the other. Feeling anxious, Maria washed Agent Foster’s shirt in the sink and hung it up to dry.
Then she perched at the edge of the bed, propped her elbows on her knees, and rested her chin in her hands.
It was going to be a long night.
11
Adam couldn’t meet his eyes in the mirror.
He’d crossed the line. Twice now, he’d let Kari go when he should have detained her. Breaking procedure, he’d followed her for a week. He’d come here to drill her for information and ended up … drilling her.
He’d jeopardized his entire career, for what? Five hot minutes.
And he still didn’t know what game she was playing. It was likely that a shipment of drugs had been smuggled over the border in another vehicle at the same time Kari came through. He could have sworn by the way she acted at the border that she was doing something illegal. Guilt and fear and anxiety radiated from her. Even while he was on top of her, she’d been keyed up. She’d fucked him like her life depended on it.
He should go home, regroup. Figure out what the hell he was trying to accomplish on this after-hours mission, besides getting her off.
Luckily, Adam had plenty of experience with leaving women right after sex. He knew how to sidestep awkward scenes and messy entanglements. He always had an excuse ready for parting ways.
Avoiding his reflection, he walked out of the bathroom.
To his surprise, Kari wasn’t curled up on the mats, drowsy from satiation. She was standing with her back to him, talking on her cell phone.
She’d tugged her skirt down and thrown the sweater over her shoulders, but she hadn’t bothered to put on a bra or shirt. Her panties were lying on the floor where he’d left them.
This must be an important fucking phone call.
Don’t ask who it is.
Rule number one for getting out fast was no personal questions. Adam waited for her to hang up, unaccountably annoyed. The fact that she was on her cell should have made leaving her easier. Instead, it felt like an insult. Hadn’t he been good enough? Was she so bored and restless that she had to get up and check her messages?
Kari ended the call and turned to him, giving him an apologetic look. “That was Maria,” she explained. “Sorry.”
Oh, it was Maria. His attitude shifted from cagey withdrawal to seething outrage in an instant. Her body was still flushed from the pleasure he’d given her, and she had the nerve to mention her other “lover”? This was total bullshit. She was toying with him, trying to make him jealous—and it was working.
Don’t react.
“Let’s get something straight,” he said, ignoring the rules of disengagement. “I know goddamned well that you’re not sleeping with your roommate, so you can drop the lesbian act. We just proved without a doubt that you play for my team.”
Color rose to her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I’ve never done this before.”
Adam glanced at the lacy scrap of panties on the floor, arching a brow. “That’s hard to believe, bella.”
Her mouth made a thin line and she snatched up her undergarments, setting them aside. “Not with a stranger, I mean.”
A stranger. He raked a hand through his hair, disturbed by that characterization. The truth was that he knew her better than any of the women he’d been with in recent memory. They’d had more meaningful conversations, spent more time together.
“Have you?” she asked.
“Have I what?”
“Slept with a stranger before.”
“Yes,” he said, knowing the blunt admission wouldn’t make her
feel better.
“What do you say afterward?”
“It depends if I want to see her again.”
She hugged the sweater around her naked torso, uncomfortable. “I can’t get involved with anyone right now.”
Adam clenched his hands into fists. He’d never been on the receiving end of a brush-off before and it didn’t feel very good. Maybe this was payback for all the women he’d used and discarded in Penelope’s wake. “Let me give you some tips on how to handle this, for future reference. Never say you can’t get involved. What you mean is that you want anonymous sex but would rather have it with someone else. No man wants to hear that. Instead, say you had a nice time, kiss him goodbye, and don’t call back.”
Her eyes darkened at his harsh tone, but she didn’t speak. The sweater at her shoulders slipped down a little, its latticework fabric revealing more than it concealed. A pert nipple peeped through the spaces, the rosy tip framed by soft knit.
With some difficulty, Adam returned his gaze to her face. “I’d also recommend putting on some clothes. The only thing I can think about while you’re like that is fucking you again.” Turning his back on her, he strode toward the door.
She followed, catching hold of his arm. “Wait.”
He paused, impatient.
“Answer one question before you go,” she said, lowering her voice. “Are you with Moreno?”
Adam looked down at her slender hand. “Moreno?”
“Carlos Moreno. My sister’s boyfriend.”
“I know who he is.”
“Are you part of his crew?”
He’d never been so insulted by a postcoital interrogation. He could handle questions about his marital status, his general health, and even his sexual history. His professional integrity hadn’t been an issue with women.
Then again, he hadn’t slept with a drug smuggler before.
“No,” he said, removing her hand from his person. “I’m not part of Moreno’s crew. I’d quit the department before I accepted a bribe. I don’t expect you to believe that, because liars are notoriously skeptical, so I’ll spell it out for you in a convincing way.”
Caught in the Act Page 12
