Burying his face against her shoulder, Noah gasped against her soft, fragrant skin as he fought to control another surge of desire. He could take her all night long with no problem. Going months without sex usually meant full gluttony when his body finally let go. He couldn’t do that to Samara. For one thing, she was too small. She’d be tender tomorrow just from this one time. Another, larger reason existed. He’d just made a mistake of monumental proportions. No way in hell did he intend to repeat it.
He gritted his teeth as he withdrew, his cock hard and throbbing again, wanting to drive back into her, relive the tight, hot clasp he’d just experienced. It had been years since he’d done something so incredibly stupid. He wished he could blame it on Samara, but he’d been the one to initiate it. The one to take her. Now he had to live with the consequences of his stupidity.
“Noah.”
The way she groaned his name said it all. Deep satisfaction, total satiation, and insatiable hunger. Exactly the way he felt and the very reason he couldn’t take this any further.
He pulled himself off her and then from the bed. She raised her head, her expression startled, then confused.
“What’s wrong?”
“We need to get back to work.”
She wilted like a tender young flower under a blazing sun. He refused to have any guilt feelings about what had just happened. He was a prick and a bastard. She’d known that from the start. He’d warned her. She shouldn’t be surprised or shocked. They’d come into the bedroom, both knowing this was sex and nothing more.
Pulling his briefs on, he turned away and dressed quickly, well aware that she still sat on the bed and watched him with wounded eyes. As he walked out of the room, he said, “I’ll see if we have any messages.” Then shut the door behind him.
Staring in shock at the closed door, fury and hurt waltzed, then stampeded through her. “No good, low-lying, evil son-of-a-bitch bastard.”
Samara sprang from the bed, ignoring the slight aches in her body. Muttering curses and vile descriptions of what she was going to do to his manhood, she jerked on a pair of jeans and T-shirt and marched to the door. A hand, shaking with temper, but mostly hurt, reached for the knob. She stopped and closed her eyes on a long sigh. Hell, what was she going to say to him? She’d walked into the bedroom with the full knowledge that he wanted to fuck her. That was it. He hadn’t put perfume or flowers or anything remotely romantic in the invitation. A fuck and no more.
So stomping out into the living room and demanding an explanation or an apology would achieve what? Absolutely nothing … other than embarrass her. He’d only tell her what she already knew. She’d been a warm, more than willing body. Nothing more. If she made a big deal out of it, she would reveal that it meant a lot more to her.
No way in hell was she going to do that. She stripped off her clothes, covered her hair with a towel, and practically threw herself into the shower. The spray of water on her face mingled with the tears. Angry tears, mixed with deep, pain-wrenching tears. She’d be damned if he ever saw them.
Shuddering for control, Samara turned the water off and leaned against the shower stall. The knowledge that she’d been manipulated again hadn’t escaped her. Not only had Noah gotten her into bed, he’d maneuvered it so that if she complained at all, she was the one who would look foolish and immature. Damn, the man was good.
Determined to look as though she could have sex with a man one minute and act like it had meant nothing other than a casual conversation the next, Samara dressed again. The fact that the jeans molded her butt quite nicely and the baby-blue T-shirt made her eyes deepen into pools of silver blue didn’t escape her notice.
She quickly applied minimal makeup to her face, just a hint of blush and mascara. She didn’t want Noah to comment or think she’d gone to a lot of trouble to make herself more attractive, but she also wanted to look as good as possible. Let him see what he had given up.
At that thought, her spirits flagged. What was the point? She meant nothing to him other than one good lay. Her spine straightened. She might mean nothing to him, but it didn’t negate her pride, which had been mightily bruised by this man more than once. She’d be damned if she let him realize how he’d hurt her again.
Noah heard the door open and turned. She looked fresh, lovely, and so damned alluring, his body reacted before his mind could control it. Hell, just what she needed to see … a fully aroused man who’d just screwed her and would willingly stay inside her for days if he could.
Something else he saw, she worked desperately to hide, was her hurt. Noah was widely known for his charm and diplomacy. He negotiated and manipulated heads of state, local governments, and law enforcement with little effort. His ability to control and use people to the good of LCR had been his main focus and role for several years. He was damn good at it. So why couldn’t he handle Samara Lyons with the same finesse? Why did she get under his skin so much that he ended up crushing her spirit and making her feel used?
Noah had no answer and refused to ponder it any further. The best thing he could do for her was to get this project over and done with and get out of her life. His gaze flicked back to the computer screen. The response he’d just received from Brian would no doubt do just that.
Samara offered him a tight smile. “Any responses yet?”
“Yeah, I sent something while you were gone on the chance I’d get a bite. It produced just what we’ve been looking for.”
Her eyes flickered with excitement. “Really.” She dashed toward the computer and sat beside him. “Show me.”
Refusing to allow the sweet scent of her hair and the alluring warmth of her body to deter him, Noah slid the screen around and showed her the message he’d sent while she was out.
“Wow. That was gutsy.”
His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I was tired of flirting with the bastard.” He clicked on the message he’d just received. “Here’s his reply.”
Carly, parents can be so selfish. … I know my mom can be a real bitch too. Do you think we could go out before you go? I can’t imagine not talking to you for two whole weeks. Can you meet me somewhere?
She grinned up at Noah. “Cool.”
“Yep. Exactly what we want.”
“Do you have a place you’re going to suggest?”
“Yeah, but I doubt he’ll take it. He’ll want a place he feels he can control.”
Beside him, he felt her slender body shiver … nervousness or excitement?
“You’ll be okay. You know that, don’t you?”
Full lips tilted slightly. “I trust you in this.”
She didn’t need to expand on that comment. She trusted him to handle this. Anything else, she obviously had serious doubts. Since he didn’t want to get into a conversation about what she didn’t trust him with, he turned the screen back to him and typed, I think I can get away. Remember, I’m grounded because of my grades. Can you meet me at the Ice Cream Dream … maybe around eleven tomorrow night?
“Ice Cream Dream? You mean the one on Galantine Road?”
His eyes on the screen, hoping for an immediate reply, he nodded. “If he says yes, that’s great. My people have pretty much commandeered the entire restaurant. If he shows up there, LCR will be able to neutralize him fairly quickly.”
“But you think he’ll suggest somewhere else?”
“He’s probably already got a place picked out. But as soon as he gives a location, my people will get there, analyze it, plan the scenario, and we’ll be good to go.”
They both stared at the screen, waiting for a reply. Tension and nervousness bounced off Samara in waves and Noah could feel each pulse of the emotions as if they were tangible. Desire rose in his body. Everything within him fought against touching her. Just as he didn’t think his hands could keep still any longer, an IM popped up.
Carly, meet me at the Mandolin pub on Pinson at 11 tomorrow night. Tell Robert at the door you’re with me.
“Bingo. He wants a new spot.” Noah
typed, See you there, and jumped up. Grabbing his keys, he muttered, “Be back later.”
Samara watched in shocked amazement as he slammed out of her apartment without any other words. What the hell had she expected? She was a tool to be used. Tomorrow, she’d dress as a teenager, evil, vile men would be captured, and Noah would be gone from her life for good.
It was what she should want. It was definitely what he wanted. He’d come to her for help, he’d gotten that, plus he got laid on the side. What more could a jerk ask for?
Samara stood and winced slightly. It had been well over a year since she’d had sex … if that’s what one could call the incredible experience she’d had less than an hour ago. She’d always enjoyed sex immensely and was grateful that her lovers … all two of them, had been excellent … caring, considerate, and very skilled. With Noah … of course, one quick screw on the bed didn’t really qualify him as her lover. Still, she couldn’t help but compare her past experience to this time with him. Unfortunately, it couldn’t compare. The heat, intensity, and sheer sexuality of the act had overwhelmed her. Noah, without a doubt, was an excellent sex partner. As a caring, considerate lover, he failed on every level.
Trudging to her bedroom, Samara stripped and slid under the covers. Ignoring the titillating scent of their recent sexual encounter was almost impossible, but she was too tired to change the sheets. She buried her face in her pillow, refusing to admit that the fragrance of hot sex and Noah’s masculine musk were deliciously enjoyable. She fell asleep still trying to convince herself of that.
Noah let himself into the quiet apartment. It was a little after three in the morning and thankfully Samara was in bed. He didn’t need to see her until he came to terms with this odd weakness. He’d practically run from the apartment, using the ruse that he needed to do something on the op. Which he did, but he could have made the calls from there. No, he left because if he didn’t, he was going to do his damnedest to get her in bed again … or up against the nearest wall.
He was honest enough with himself to know he was in trouble but had enough self-preservation to know how to get out of it. All he needed was one more day and he’d be gone. Though well acquainted with self-denial, he was more than aware that he’d never been tempted like this.
Samara was pure, unsullied, and innocent. Noah had left those things behind years ago. The best thing he could do for her and himself was get out of her life as soon as possible. In a few days, he’d be just a bad memory … with maybe a slight twinge every now and then when she thought about the sex.
Something that surprised the hell out of him was the sex. It’d been about as hot as he’d ever had it and he’d had his share. Samara looked like an innocent angel but she’d been wild, wanton … perfect.
Well hell, his body was hard and aching once again. Since he was doing nothing other than torturing himself, Noah stalked to his bedroom and stripped. Pulling on running shoes and shorts, he headed toward the door. He stopped on the way and jotted a quick note to Samara, in case she woke before he returned, to stay off-line. He didn’t want Brian canceling on them. This was possibly their only chance to catch the pervert and nothing could get in his way. Not even a too-beautiful woman he knew he’d never forget.
seven
“You nervous?”
Samara nodded. Trying to pretend otherwise would only be a lie. She knew there was nothing to worry about. Noah and his people were the best. That didn’t negate the fact that she was bait for some very bad men. A shiver ran up her spine she couldn’t hide.
His hand touched her shoulder briefly, but pulled away before she could find any real comfort. “You’ll be fine,” Noah reassured her. “There will be at least four LCR operatives surrounding you, inside and outside the bar. You’ll be safe as you would be in your own home. Okay?”
“I know. It’s just knowing that the creep is there for me.” Shuddering at the thought, she said, “Turns my stomach.”
“You’ll barely get a chance to say hi before we get him.”
“But what if it’s not him? I mean, I know it’s not the real Brian Sanders, but what if it’s just a kid trying to impress me?”
“Tell him it’s nice to meet him, and I’ll get you out. Then we come back home and start again.”
“You don’t think that’s going to happen, do you?”
“No, I don’t. This is the creep we’re looking for.” His gaze swept down her body. “You ready to go?”
She looked down at her clothing. Her favorite jeans paired with a multicolored cropped T-shirt that showed a fair amount of gleaming skin. On a whim, she’d glued a fake jewel in her belly button. “Do I look okay … like a sixteen-year-old?”
He grinned. “Actually, with your hair pulled back with that clip thing, you look about fourteen.”
“It’s called a barrette.”
“Whatever it’s called, it makes you look sweet and innocent.” His eyes focused briefly on her mouth and darkened with something hot and raw.
Her body responded to that look with the same need it had the night before. Samara shut down that feeling as soon as she recognized it. He’d given every indication that she might never see him after tonight. No way in hell would she entertain the slightest thought of wanting something she could never have again.
She frowned at his attire. “Why are you in disguise?”
Turning away, he grabbed his car keys from the desk. “I always wear a disguise when I’m on an op.” He looked back at her and tilted his head. “What do you think?”
“You look old enough to be my father … my very sleazy, greasy father.”
Long, oily gray hair was halfway hidden under a dirty baseball cap. A salt-and-pepper mustache covered most of his upper lip. Something had been done to his face to make it seem harder, more menacing. Colored contacts changed his eye color from almost black to an eerie mud green. He wore an old pair of jeans, scuffed snakeskin cowboy boots, and a sweat-stained shirt two sizes too small for him. How in the hell did she still find him attractive?
Samara pulled her eyes away from him. “Let me grab my purse.”
Noah jerked as if startled out of a daze. “Right.” He handed her a set of keys. “There’s a light blue Jeep Renegade in the parking lot. I’ll follow you. One of our guys is already inside the bar. Another two are waiting in the parking lot. You get to a table and sit down. I’ll stay as close to you as possible. When Brian or whatever the hell his name is sits down, talk to him. The second you’re sure it’s our guy, pull on your left ear.” He grabbed his left earlobe and tugged. “Like this. We’ll grab him and you jump the hell away. Okay?”
She nodded. It sounded simple enough. Noah was right. What could go wrong?
The bar was even nastier on the inside than it looked on the outside. Body odor blended with alcohol, cheap aftershave, and something else her nose refused to even consider. One lone window, several feet from the door, competed with the bar’s yellowed tiled floor for filth supremacy. Squinting with one eye, she tried to see the streetlamp outside. The window won.
If she hadn’t been sure before, she was sure now. The Brian she’d been chatting with couldn’t be just a kid trying to impress her. No way would any guy, no matter how cocky or clueless, entice a young girl here for that purpose. This place was all about getting drunk and getting laid. Totally different from the guy Brian had portrayed himself as.
Robert, the doorman Brian told her to look for, had leered at her as though he’d be glad to take a turn at her. When this was over, her first order of business would be to take a long, hot shower. And then, perhaps something for a queasy stomach.
Noah sat two tables over, nursing a beer and trying to avoid offending the worn-out-looking waitress who kept flirting with him. He’d winked at Samara a couple of times, trying and succeeding in looking even sleazier. They were probably supposed to be as leering as Robert’s looks had been, but all she could think was how much she’d like to go over to his table and have him hold her. Samara gave a litt
le shake of her head. God, she was stupid. What did the man have to do to totally turn her off and make her hate him? Kill her?
A few drunk and overamorous couples swayed against each other on the minuscule dance floor. The mournful sounds of a depressed country singer added to the overall gloomy ambience. Samara looked warily around for the man who had been posing as Brian. It was fifteen minutes after their appointed meeting time. Had he changed his mind? Suspected a setup?
She’d ordered a diet drink and had barely taken a sip from the spotted, nasty-looking glass. Her mouth sandstorm dry, Samara lifted her glass for another small amount of moisture. A drunk weaved by just as she brought it to her lips. Stumbling against her chair, he upended the entire glass, saturating her shirt and jeans.
With a gasp, Samara jumped up. The drunk mumbled something and staggered away. She grabbed the one cocktail napkin on the table and sopped up as much of the soda as she could. Noah had told her not to look directly at him, but she was at a loss as to what she should do.
The heavyset waitress who’d served her drink appeared in front of her. Offering Samara an odd, grim smile, she jerked her head toward a door. “There’s a bathroom in the back. Go on back there and clean yourself up.”
Samara glanced over at Noah. His table was empty. A little disconcerted, her eyes swept the room. Tension mounted when she couldn’t find him. He said he wouldn’t leave her. Her legs sagged, noodle limp with relief, when she spotted him stalking toward her. A mixture of fury and disgust on his face. What had happened?
Her head jerked around when a hand grabbed her upper arm. The cold eyes of the waitress stared down at her. “Come on, hon. I’ll show you the way.” She pushed her toward a dark doorway.
RETURN TO ME Page 9
