Savage Secrets (Titan #6)

by Harber, Cristin

  “Yes.” He brought her back to the moment and pulled her close, eyes locked, hands laced tight.

  He didn’t blink. Didn’t seem to need anything but her steadfast gaze locked on him. “Just feel for me. Don’t think.”

  Don’t think? Or don’t remember? Don’t plot and plan? The answer was simple: don’t do anything except focus on him, his lips, their rhythmic plunges and escalating tension. All that spiraled inside her.

  “Okay.” Agreeing to anything he said was easy.

  Her mind relaxed, and her body wound tighter. Anticipation and pleasure cried for release. She took his mouth, deepening their kiss, faster and harder, but somehow so sweet. She hooked her leg over his hip and was done for. Eyes shut and arching her back, she tightened on his cock. Caterina’s climax rocked her from the inside out.

  Her mind went white. Blank. Nothingness. It was spectacular, a perfect peace that she hadn’t known possible.

  Rocco wrapped his arms around her, pumping and driving and bringing his body into hers. His muscles strained. Low, guttural, gratifying groans poured from him, meeting her lips as he kissed her into a climatic oblivion. Finally, he slowed. Stilled. Their breaths and kisses intermixed, lost in the tangle.

  When her eyes opened, Rocco still held her tight, and she couldn’t live another moment keeping lies and love to herself. “Te adoro. Te amo. Mi Galán.”

  His eyes darkened, serious and intent. But he didn’t understand, and sadly, that was her point. She’d let him in on one secret and immediately picked up another. She loved him but wouldn’t risk it all by telling him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Rocco listened to the sweet hum of Caterina’s breath as she slowly tumbled into sleep. Cuddling wasn’t his thing. The word even sounded… odd to him, made him all tight-chested and uncomfortable. But holding her like this, all close contact and warm woman, this was the way it was to be done. Completely sated and spent, exhausted but reinvigorated, he could lie there all night long and not complain. The silence gave him an opportunity to replay her words in his head. Te adoro-amo-what? Galán?

  It sounded like a confession. Maybe he was putting words in her mouth or hoping for something she hadn’t said. But he knew adore and love, no matter the language. No idea about galán. But as long as it wasn’t “I’ll never,” good things were happening for him.

  Her body softened, completely turned over to sleep. One of the most dangerous women in the world lay naked and tucked to his side, her dark hair splayed over the white pillows. She looked angelic. Angelic? Angel… Like when his mind tripped and he imagined his angel… was he imaging Caterina? Maybe.

  His fingertips tingled as he recalled the night he’d blacked out in London and woken up the next morning. His memory tripped, trying hard to place broken memories together. Zips and zaps of a hallucination threatened him now. Or was that just a memory? What had happened that night? And why was he suddenly so sure that Caterina had been by his side?

  And the angel in his visions? The one who helped him to the other hotel room? That had to be in his head. It had to be. Because if not… Why wouldn’t she say anything? So it wasn’t her…Or was it? Damn his stupid episodes.

  Rocco scrubbed his face and pinched his eyes, calming his mind down and forcing himself to remember the night in London with the guys. He’d left the bar. Stumbled onto a bench. Saw an angel who guided him to his hotel room, saving him from himself, and disappearing into the night. But not before writing a note on the mirror.

  Handsome.

  Only someone who played spy games would think about leaving an invisible message on the mirror, chancing that he might take a shower. Only someone who had brought up coincidence more than once. And only a woman who could read people as well as Caterina did would have seen him for what he was: not a drunk or a druggie, but someone like her who needed a hand in a messed up situation. He stared at her as his thoughts rushed, not sure if he was trying to put order into his chaos or if he was about to lose his mind again. Room five twenty-one wasn’t that far away if it were the case, but he sure didn’t want to leave the bed and let her wake up alone.

  Deep breath. In, out, in, and then the threat of a hallucination dissipated, leaving him oddly relaxed. Rocco leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I just might be crazy enough to believe in coincidence now.”

  Sliding from the covers, he pulled on his sweatpants, tucked her in, and grabbed his phone, heading toward the mini bar. Glass-paned French doors separated the area from the bed, and the doors clicked quietly as he shut them. He dialed Jared’s cell phone and cracked open the little fridge. Nothing but Diet Cokes. Made him laugh. Water from the tap would have to do, and while Jared’s phone rang, he filled his glass and stared through the glass door at his girl. Gorgeous. Even in the dark, when he could barely make out anything. Fuckin’ gorgeous.

  He shook his head. Not his girl. But his partner—

  “About time you checked in.” Jared’s grumble was so loud Rocco watched to see if he woke Caterina.

  She didn’t stir. And why would she have? It was a phone, not a PA system, and he was in another room.

  But still Rocco faced away from her, keeping his voice low. “Hello to you too, dick.”

  He gave a quick update, mentioned Roman, but didn’t play his hand one way or another about that, and gave up nothing that would tip Boss Man off to… what? The fact that he was playing house like a pro? That he’d gone from thinking about what was behind an MI6 partition to seeing what was under her clothes? He didn’t kiss and tell, so Jared could stay in the dark.

  “Anything else?” Boss Man was fishing. Maybe that was the reason Roman was sent out to help? Because Jared knew that Rocco was still hallucinating? Well, he wouldn’t fess up to that. Too much on the line. Caterina had too much invested in this job, in El Mateperros, and if Jared pulled him out, she’d be stuck just shy of getting what she needed. That, and his ass would be benched, Titan-style. He rubbed his face. Losing his job should have been the bigger of the two concerns.

  “Rocco,” Jared snapped at him. “You still there?”

  “Yeah. Bad connection.”

  “Right. Anything else?”

  “Nope.” Tension hung on the line. “All right then—”

  “Did she tell you?”

  Not where Rocco thought the conversation might go. With ninety-nine percent certainty they were thinking of the same topic, he agreed. “Yup.”

  “You okay with this job?”

  Rocco chuckled. Leave it to Jared to make sure that, when shit got gray and murky, everyone agreed what was right and what was wrong. Rocco turned back toward the bed. Caterina was partially obscured by the comforter. Everything having to do with that woman was right. “Never more so.”

  “Good.” Jared exhaled into the phone. “Good. Look. I may have turned that girl into a killer. She could’ve grown up to be, I don’t know, an accountant or a doctor or something. Not… what she is. An interrogator on a mission.”

  Rocco pictured Cat with the live wires in her hand, touching the ends and smiling as the sparks ignited. Then the remembered the grief in her eyes and the pain in her words, recounting the massacre of her family.

  “A woman with that kind of pain and that kind of drive? The best thing you did was give her an outlet. Pain like that has to be channeled.” He shook his head. “If she didn’t have that, then…I don’t know if she’d be here today.”

  Jared didn’t answer, and Rocco didn’t hang up. Whatever they both had left to say, neither volunteered.

  “By the way.” Boss Man broke the silence. “Doc Tuska said you never followed up after you checked out of the hospital. Go see the doc.”

  Rocco dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling. So Jared and the doc had talked. That was all but a confirmation that if Doc Tuska knew what was going on, Jared knew. Too bad Rocco wasn’t volunteering anything about his occasional, unpredictable electrical jab of zips and zaps that made him lose his mind. That was need-to-know intel, and
no one needed to know.

  “I’m all over it when I get home. Thanks for the reminder. Bye.”

  He ended the conversation before Jared could respond, then turned off his phone.

  No one needed to know, but now he suspected everyone already did. Why hadn’t Roman said anything? And what about Caterina? Had Jared talked to her? It didn’t matter. At least not right now.

  Quiet as he could, Rocco cracked open the French doors and crept back into the room. He took one long look over Cat as she slept, then he slid under the covers, pulling her into his arms.

  “What do you know about me?” he whispered as she nuzzled against his chest.

  “Not nearly enough.” All sleepy and sexy without even trying. Her eyes didn’t open. Her breathing didn’t change. Sleep talking.

  His fingers slid over her arm and across her collar bone, testing if she was awake. No reaction. Even asleep, she was always an operative, always listening. For whatever reason, that did it for him. Her sleepy confession was all the confirmation he needed to know he’d fallen in love.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Sunlight flooded the honeymoon suite when Caterina woke up, feeling like they had made good use of the room since they’d checked in. She rolled over, and her gaze crashed into Rocco’s, warming her entire body in an instant. How long had he been watching her? “Good morning.”

  One side of his smile kicked up, and the dimple killed her. Rocco brushed his lips over hers. “Sleep okay?”

  “Like the dead.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know about that.” He rolled back onto his pillow, tugging her with him. “I’m going to die if I have to put on a pair of khaki pants again today. Let’s blow this place and go have some fun.”

  “Missing your camo and C-4?”

  “Hell yes.” He kissed her then stretched, surrounding her with a wall of muscle. “Go shower. I’ll grab us some breakfast. Be back in twenty minutes.”

  “And coffee.” She sat up, tugging the sheet around her. “Lots of coffee.”

  “Roger that, Kitten.” Rocco crawled out from under her, off the bed, and headed for the closet. He passed over the clothes, grumbling. Finally selecting a shirt and pants, he was pulling on the shirt as he turned around. His eyes lit, watching her watching him. “Change of plans. I’m keeping you in bed. Then breakfast.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. There’s a muy caliente babe in my bed. You think I’m going to pass that up.”

  “Muy caliente? I’m rubbing off on you.”

  Rocco stalked over to the bed and kneeled on the mattress, making it dip under his enormous presence. “Whatever it takes to keep you talking like that.” He kissed her, wrapping his hands around her waist and letting them drift to her bare back. “Most times, I have no idea what you’re talking about. All I know is dos cervezas, por favor.”

  He made her laugh. “Two beers?”

  “Two beers, please.” He didn’t pull his lips far from hers. She still felt both the heat and his humor. “Let’s see what else I got… Uno, dos, tres. Gracias. Adios. Arriverderci.”

  Spanish. Spanish. Spanish. Italian. “So close, big boy.”

  “I’m just testing you. Besides, I said most times I have no idea. Don’t forget that sometimes I do.”

  Her skin prickled as his fingers danced up and down her spine. “Do, what?”

  Because if do meant understand her, after she’d talked about loving him, she might die of embarrassment. That mumbled, Spanish profession of love wasn’t for him to know about. Was she trying to get him to run? Hell no.

  But right now, he wasn’t running anywhere, and she couldn’t keep her hands off of him. As quickly as he pulled on his clothes, she took them off. Their legs scrambled together, arms wrapping, holding each other. His breath was at her ear, her mouth at his neck. She loved him—needed him—the same way she breathed. Intrinsically. A basic requirement to make it through another day, sleep through another night. Rocco Savage was it.

  Rocco pushed into her. “Goddamn woman.”

  Uh-huh. He was all she could feel, like sweet heaven. Hot like she’d never experienced. Not once in her whole life had she had sex without a condom. Never.

  Her eyes opened. His did too. Locked together. “Please don’t stop.”

  It could’ve been the wrong thing to say—the stupid thing to do—but their connection was too strong, and she’d had her birth control shot months ago. She was fine, and Rocco would never hurt her.

  Tightening around him, Caterina prayed he’d keep going.

  His breath hitched, mouth parting on a breath. “Okay.”

  Statement. Question. Who knew? “Okay.”

  Wrapping her in his arms, he pressed deep, breath catching. “Cat… You feel… unreal.”

  Caterina’s hands gripped back, fingernails scratching and sliding down to the firm, flexing muscles in his backside. Rocco moved fast, driving and rolling. He owned her body. Possessed her mind. Everything, anything, he was the master. Together, they were almost more than she could stand. A hurricane of strokes and thoughts stoked her orgasm.

  “So close.” She could barely speak. “Please.”

  Rocco’s hips pinned to hers, fast fucking within an inch of existence. All she could do was cling to his extraordinary body and reach into the depths of his eyes. When her core tightened, her body pulsed, and her mouth screamed his name, Rocco hugged her tight, spearing so deep, and he came in her, deliciously, insanely hot. Her climax embraced his, intertwining. The sexiest, most spectacular feeling and it was in his arms.

  He collapsed on her, pulling her tight, and she needed to crawl into him. Being held like that, feeling him inside her, all was right in their make-believe world and spilling out into her real one. Fake relationship. Real relationship. It didn’t matter, because she was in deep. Eventually, she unwound from him. She would shower in a few minutes, but now she’d rather just lay naked in their sheets.

  “Still want breakfast?” His hair was mussed, and his lazy smile warmed her.

  Sustenance. “Yes.”

  Rocco rolled out of bed, throwing on his clothes. One final kiss and he grabbed his wallet and cell phone off the nightstand. “Be back in a few. I—” He tilted his head, giving her a wink and the dimple. “You are something special, Kitten.”

  ***

  Yassine re-crossed his legs and set down his espresso, smacking his lips and embracing the burn on his tongue. His to-do list was growing at a rapid pace with the upcoming Big Ben event. But… was it big enough? Did it have the sticking power of, say, a meat dress or riding into an award banquet in an egg? God, he loved Lady Gaga. She was brilliant. His phone rang, and he tossed his magazine. The number was not only familiar, it was a pleasant surprise. “Hello, my friend. I thought I’d lost you.”

  His tried-and-true distributor laughed into the phone. “The last few weeks were a testament to my network. I have to say, when our last project didn’t go as planned, I felt the heat.”

  Yes, he bet so. “But no longer?”

  Half-waiting for an answer, half-distracted, he picked up an unread newspaper with a headline reading that the royal family and the US president had an upcoming event. An event like that would make quite the splash.

  “But no longer, my friend.” His pleased voice brought Yassine back to the conversation.

  This was good. Buying his explosives and weapons from his regular dealer was more comforting, plus he had a sudden idea for a different project. An American project.

  The man on the phone cleared his throat. “If you are still interested in making a deal, I am still interested in providing what you need.”

  “Perfect.” He wouldn’t have to use an unknown like Locke.

  Yassine’s mind wandered to Locke’s wife. Her olive skin would be a perfect shade if she were paler and… icy cold. He took another sip of the scalding espresso and imagined the feel of frigid skin under his palms. Locke had the nerve to charge him more for looking at his wife? There were so many way
s to teach that man a lesson. How would he break off their agreement? Something memorable. Something that said El Mateperros was to be respected and remembered. Several ideas came to mind as he scalded his tongue on espresso again and wished for an icy remedy. He ended the call, thrilled with the opportunities flooding his mind. His excitement raced. Time to go end the deal with Locke.

  Slurping the last sips of his espresso and jittery from finishing it so quickly, he called for his men to ready the car. El Mateperros had business to take care of.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Caterina lay in bed, buried in pillows, with a grin she couldn’t wipe away. Last night had been amazing. This morning… she had no words and still hadn’t recovered from being all love-drunk. Every time with Rocco was better than before, and where were his thoughts at—

  Knock, knock.

  She jumped. He hadn’t been gone long enough to grab breakfast. A smile still painted on her face, she wrapped the sheet round her and nearly skipped to the door. “Forget something?”

  No answer.

  The hairs at the back of her neck stood a second too late as her hand turned the handle. Eyes focusing, she knew her instinct was right.

  El Mateperros.

  His smooth as sin features smirked through the cracked opening. All the terror from her childhood crushed her chest. She froze. Panicked. Unable to move. Unable to reason.

  Until El Mateperros cackled, startling her back to a shell-shocked reality.

  “Daniel’s not here.” She slapped her palm against the door—both hands—and used her bare foot as a fulcrum point. It didn’t help as he pushed in. The sheet started to fall, and her elbows pinched it to her side.

  El Mateperros wrapped his fingers on the inside of the door. “This is no way to treat a business partner.”

  Shaking her head, she tried to remember where the closest weapon was. Much farther than El Mateperros’s, she was sure. “Come back later.”

  He pushed the door again, then his shoulder crashed onto it. Him against her, no contest, he had the upper hand, and she couldn’t keep him out. All of her weight wasn’t slowing the bastard’s advance, and he didn’t stop until he stood in the living room. “Mrs. Locke.”