by Desiree Holt
She wrapped her slim fingers around his wrists and slid the tip of her own small tongue out to touch his. Just that tiny contact was so electric, hitting his body like the touch of a live wire. He nudged her lips apart so he could slide his tongue inside the heat of her wet mouth. Every nerve in his body fired.
He tilted her head to give him better access as he took the kiss deeper. Only when he knew they were both running out of breath did he break the contact.
Sydney gave a shaky little laugh. “We sure don’t do anything in half measures, do we?”
“And that’s not all bad.” His own voice wasn’t that steady.
He tugged her T-shirt loose from her slacks and eased it up her body. She lifted her arms so he could pull it over her head and toss it to the side. Another one of her lacy concoctions, this one in deep purple, lovingly cupped her sweet, sweet breasts. Her nipples were dark berries pushing against the silky fabric and he just could not help himself. He ducked his head, took each one in his mouth in turn, sucked them and bit down gently.
The touch of his wet mouth and the erotic pinch of his teeth stole Sydney’s breath. She slid her hands around to press her palms to his naked back, her touch making him glad he’d never put his shirt back on.
He trailed his lips down the slender column of her neck, peppering her with tiny kisses then taking a soft bite at that very sensitive spot right where her neck and shoulder joined. Pulse hammering, she pressed herself closer to him, her breasts warm mounds against the hard plane of his chest.
Jesus!
Despite the fact she’d taken the edge of with her fantastic use of her mouth and fingers on him before dinner, he was instantly hard, his shaft begging for release. He dug deep for his self-control, because now it was Sydney’s turn.
He unfastened her slacks, pushing them past her hips. He held her as she wriggled the garment down to the floor and kicked them aside. With his hands beneath her ass, he lifted her to the bed, placing her at the edge so he could feast on her at will. He went nuts at the sight of the teeny-tiny panties that matched the bra, gripped the lace band at the top with his teeth and dragged it down until the fabric banded her thighs together. It left the lips of her pussy and the ripe bud of her clit now open to whatever he wanted to do.
Lowering himself to his knees, he traced a line with his tongue from her navel to the top of her mound, pressing just the tip of it between her lips right where her clit beckoned. It was hot and smooth and he played it with his tongue like a toy, flicking it back and forth over and over until Sydney was moaning and twisting and trying to push her thighs wider for better access.
He laughed, a low, rumbling sound.
“Uh-uh. We do this my way. You had your turn.” He lifted his gaze to her face, her cheeks flushed with pleasure, and he wanted to lap every inch of her.
He went back to work on her hot button, teasing it with the tip of his tongue then licking the closed seam of her cunt. She tried to open her thighs but Liam wasn’t yet ready to slide her jeans down. Placing his hands on her hips, he held her in place while he licked and nibbled until she was moaning her pleas and trying to thrust her body upward.
“Please,” she begged. “Liam, please, please, please.”
“Please what?” he teased.
“Please take my clothes off and lick all of me.”
He nipped her little clit again. “Do you want me to make you come with my mouth?”
“Yes.” Her head thrashed from side to side. “Yes, yes, yes.”
“Tell me,” he insisted.
“Make me come with your mouth.” She almost shouted the words.
“See.” He laughed, a low, rumbling sound. “All you had to do was ask.”
He hoped he could control himself because just the sight and taste of her made his dick so hard he wondered if it might snap off.
He pulled her slacks and teeny panties down, tossed them to the side and nudged her legs wide. He took a long moment to just enjoy the sight of her, that sweet pink flesh so wet and shiny, bracketed by two neatly trimmed rows of curls.
Damn!
Pulling in a deep breath, he spread the lips of her pussy with her thumbs and applied his tongue, licking the tempting inner flesh, stroking over the swollen bud of her clit. The more he lapped and stroked, the wetter she became. Her soft little moans of pleasure ramped up his own hungry need.
He lifted her legs and placed them on his shoulders, opening her even wider to him, and he thrust his tongue deep inside her.
“Oh, god! Please.”
He loved to hear those little cries of pleasure. He licked deeper and faster, rubbing her clit with his forefinger in time to his strokes. Her inner walls began to flutter then contract as her orgasm rose. Then she was there, her body clasping his tongue, riding it as he drove her over the peak.
Her inner walls were still in spasms when he stripped off his jeans and boxer briefs, grabbed a condom from his wallet and sheathed himself. He wanted to climb up onto the bed with her but he was afraid his own body demands wouldn’t wait that long. Instead he placed both hands beneath the cheeks of her ass, lifted her and drove into her with one swift plunge.
Jesus!
He had to stop and take a breath or he might have come right then and there. Reaching for the last vestiges of his control, he set up a rhythm, thrusting in and out, feeling her muscles grip him like a vise.
“Shit! Syd, I’m not gonna last.”
“It’s okay,” she breathed, her voice strained. “Do it. Please.”
He felt the tremors in her body as she gripped him harder, harder, and knew she was close. Faster, he told himself, gritting his teeth.
And they were both there, her cunt milking him as he pulsed into her again and again and again, until he wondered if he’d ever stop coming. When he did, he fell forward, catching himself on his forearms, his heartbeat thundering, his breath sawing in and out.
When he regained some measure of control, he kissed her, a light touch of his lips to hers. He looked into those dark blue eyes, not sure what he’d see there. A ribbon of pleasure coursed through him to see the same well of emotions he himself was feeling. He brushed damp strands of air from her cheeks.
“Syd.” He breathed her name.
“Me, too.” She smiled.
“I feel—”
She touched her fingertips to his lips.
“Me, too, but don’t say it yet. Let’s wait until your crisis is past so there’s nothing affecting it.”
“It’s not why I want to tell you,” he objected.
“I know. But wait, okay? So the only focus is us.”
He understood what she was saying, but he wanted to tell her so badly how he felt. Instead he eased himself from her body, disposed of the condom then moved them both under the covers. He had enough brainpower left to remember to put his cell on the nightstand before he spooned her against him and kissed the shell of her ear.
“I’m not leaving until morning,” he told her.
She sighed. “Good. Then we can do this again before you have to leave.”
He fell asleep, smiling.
Chapter Thirteen
With Robert Hoffman’s permission, Eric had set up a trap in the Hoffman system so that a hacker would be directed to the fake file and an electronic notification would be sent to Eric’s laptop. They had discussed sending it to Liam, also, but he didn’t believe that was necessary.
“I won’t be available much until Sunday, anyway,” he told the specialist.
“Oh, yeah. Tomorrow’s the big parade.” He grinned. “Too bad I can’t run down there and snap some pictures to send to Taylor, Mr. Pirate.”
“Uh, that would be a no.” He handed Eric a folder. “In case you want a break, here’s the parade route. We start down Bayshore Boulevard. If you decide to take a break, I marked the side streets where you could try to park. If we get a hit, start tracking it.”
“That’s what I’ll be doing. Also, still working on the code for the program, look
ing for something that shouldn’t be there.”
“Take a break when you can,” Liam urged.
“I will. I just want to dig out this little bugger that’s driving me crazy.”
Which was exactly what he had been doing most of the evening. Or waiting to do. About eleven o’clock, he got an electronic signal that someone had hacked into the Hoffman system. He logged in from his computer and began the detailed process of examining and following each line of code. As he expected, he ended up on one wild goose chase after another. Whoever was doing this was sending him all over from Venezuela to China to Russia to Alaska and on and on.
Eric sighed, pushed back from his desk and stretched his arms over his head. He needed a break or he’d be no good to anyone. He had learned early in the game to sleep wherever he could whenever he could, so he darkened the room, leaving only the light from the laptops. Then he stretched out full-length on the floor, hands behind his head, closed his eyes and in seconds he was asleep.
He was deep into a dreamless void when a beeping sound cut through to his consciousness. He woke and pushed to his feet, instantly alert. The beeping was coming from the laptop tracing the source of the hack. Sitting at his work table, he focused on the last location the machine had identified and began typing codes that had sounded wrong to him into the machine. These bastards were fucking smart. They had the trace bouncing off so many other locations it looked as if they’d designed it with a ping pong ball. He was simultaneously elated and pissed off at the complexity of it. He liked a challenge and he was at least gratified that whoever had hacked the Hoffman system wasn’t the average everyday computer nerd. No, whoever was behind this had brains and money, a dangerous combination.
Late morning, his grumbling stomach sent him a message, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since late the day before. Even thought he was alone in the offices and there were multiple layers of security, he still locked the door to the room he was working in before heading downstairs.
The guard who signed him out nodded to him.
“Through for the day? You must have slept here last night.”
Eric barked a short laugh. “As a matter of fact, I did. Now I have to feed the beast. Any suggestions where I can a quick hit of breakfast?”
“Most every place will be jammed with parade goers.” He looked at his watch. “Got a couple of hours before it starts. There’s a Starbucks in the next block. If you hustle, the line shouldn’t be too bad.”
“Great. Thanks a lot.”
He got himself out of the building and down the street. The Starbucks line was doable and he took advantage of the wait to shake the kinks out of his body. Carrying a cardboard tray holding his Grande Americano with an extra shot, and two pastries, he entered the building and went straight back to his workroom. He practically inhaled half the coffee before biting into one of the pastries then getting back to work, this time on the Hoffman software while the other laptop continued its attempt to track the hacker.
He had no idea how long he’d been working again when he entered a code and suddenly the page on the screen scrolled up and up and up before stopping. He stared at it, reading it through again and again to be sure he understood what he was looking at.
“Holy shit!” he whispered. “Holy fucking shit!”
Liam had set up a small printer for him so he could print out anything he needed to. He hit Print Now, selected the pages he wanted and sat there while they spit out.
He had also, in this case, given the passwords to both laptops to Liam. Just as a backup. He seldom did that, since too many times the client had turned out to be the bad guy who just wanted Eric to find the week spots so he could fix them and hide whatever he was hiding.
Then he took his cell out of his pocket and dialed Liam’s number, hoping he could get the man before he was all tied up with parade stuff. No such luck.
Hey, buddy. Call me back as soon as you get this. I found the problem with the Hoffman software. You have someone very, very clever working for you. We need to talk and I mean now. So call me ASAP.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
He checked his watch.
Maybe I can still catch him before he gets on that float.
He knew from the brochure Liam gave him where the parade started. If he could just get there in time. This could not wait, celebration or no celebration. He shut down the computer with the Hoffman project on it and stuffed it in one of his messenger bags along with the printout. He made sure the door to the workroom was locked before he headed out for the elevator.
“Which way to the parade?” he asked the guard when he reached the lobby. “I’ve got a thing here with the route. I’d appreciate it a whole lot if you could help me?”
“Sure. Let’s see it.”
He hauled out the map Liam had given him. “Just point me in the right direction.”
“You’ll have a damn hard time finding a parking place by now,” the guard told him and stuck his finger on the map. “You can drive this far, but then you’d be better off walking.”
“Okay, great. Thanks.”
He snatched up the paper and raced out to the parking lot. Five minutes later, he was headed toward where the guard had told him he’d have to leave his car. He debated taking the messenger bag with him but decided to lock it in the trunk. Then he was racing down one street and another, looking for the parade start. The task was made even more difficult because the streets were jammed with people in Gasparilla gear partying and laughing and generally getting in their own and everyone else’s way.
“Excuse me.” He tried to push his way through a tight group of people.
“Hey, buddy, Relax.” One of the men held up a beer. “How about a drink?”
“No, thank you. I just need to get through.”
“Hey! You’re cute.” One of the woman pushed herself against him. “How about joining us?”
“Thanks but I—”
That was as far as he got. Something sharp slid into his body between his ribs and a breath-stealing pain paralyzed his body. Another sharp stick, and his legs threatened to collapse. He found himself falling to the ground.
“Hey!” A woman’s voice. “Hey, you can’t lie down here. I don’t care how cute you are. Dino, make him get up.”
“Okay buddy. Listen, you can’t— Holy shit, Maribeth. He’s hurt. Damn it, he’s gushing blood. Someone help me here.”
Eric heard their voices as if from a great distance.
Then he heard nothing at all.
* * * *
Eight was in a panic. Everything was falling apart. Coming to the office had been a spur-of-the-moment thing, prodded by a desperate need to see what, if anything, Eric Braun had dug up yet. How far he’d gotten with both his projects, especially the one breaking apart the coding for the Hoffman software.
Entering through the rear door meant being able to avoid the guard in the lobby. He was fixated on the front door only. It was supposed the people who worked in the building had already been vetted.
Eight had been disappointed the man wasn’t there, but his car was still in the lot so he couldn’t have gone far. Then he was back, after an obvious Starbucks run. So maybe an offer to help do the search might not be a bad idea. Score some extra points.
But not after overhearing the message he left for Liam.
Shit and damn. He could not be allowed to tell Liam whatever he’d found. And just how in the hell had he found it, anyway? This guy must be some fucking genius, is all. But now what the hell to do? Tackling him in the hallway didn’t seem like too bright an idea. It would mean exposure, for damn sure. Worse than that, the end of life, as Eight knew it. Maybe even the end of Eight’s life, since there would be no money to pay off the horrendous gambling debts.
Shan would be furious. Eight’s death would be a foregone conclusion.
Panic surged thick and heavy. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
What was the saying? Kill or be killed?
Only, committing murder had never been on t
he agenda.
But standing here wasn’t going to solve the problem. Eric had already headed downstairs and in another minute would be impossible to catch up with. But the effort had to be made. This was life or death. Eight’s life or death. No time to be squeamish. It was amazing what fear could make a person do.
A weapon. Without a gun, something else would have to do. And that gave birth to a brilliant idea. Liam did not always lock his office, mostly because everything in it was locked in cupboards or other containers at night, with double locks. Eight rushed down the hallway to his office and blew out a breath of relief when she saw that was the case today.
And there it was, Liam’s prized knife, a distinct weapon that looked like a tapered skinny dagger, sitting right there on his desk. Maybe this could kill two birds with one stone. Get rid of Eric Braun and plunge Liam Benedict into the middle of a murder investigation. By the time it was resolved, Shan’s people would be in the Hoffman system and have all the files they needed and have done an electronic disappearance.
Something to hold it with so there’d be no fingerprints. Eight looked wildly around for something, anything, and finally ran to the rest room to grab some toilet paper. Scooping up the knife and pocketing it, in seconds Eight was racing out to the parking lot and trying to catch up with Eric.
Killing someone had not been on the agenda, but self-preservation was a powerful motivating factor.
Okay, there was his car, just up ahead. Following him wasn’t hard, with Gasparilla traffic clogging the streets.
I can do this. It’s my ass on the line.
Then the man was racing down the street toward Bayshore like his pants were on fire, and Eight had to be very careful to keep him in sight without being seen. Okay, okay, there he was. Right near the parade starting line. How the hell did he find that parking space? There was no place for Eight to go except someone’s driveway. Hopefully, business would be taken care of before anyone complained about it.
