He undid his belt buckle and moved his seat all the way back. “Come here if you want to play,” he taunted her in a seductive tone.
“In the car?” She almost giggled, her eyes widening at the idea. She wasn’t exactly seventeen anymore. She’d only done it twice in a car in college, and that sure hadn’t been all that memorable.
“No. But you should know better than to taunt the big dog on the porch.” He reached over and easily lifted her onto his lap when she undid her own belt. His strength surprised her. The way he just plucked her out of her seat and settled her onto his lap made her gasp. He sank down so she wouldn’t hit her head on the roof. Her legs tangled with his, and then she couldn’t move if she wanted to. She didn’t.
She slid an arm around his neck. His hair was already mussed from her hands. What was a little more damage? “Who said I was taunting?” She twirled her fingers through the thick strands.
“Trust me, sweetheart. You’re playing with fire.” He kissed her, pressing into her firmly. There was no mistaking the hard length of his arousal beneath her and she squirmed to rub against him. Hard and thick, the bulge dug into her rear. She wished they could do it in the car.
He licked at her lips, teasing them until she met him halfway, then there was no going back. With a hand behind her head, he slid his other beneath her tank. Her stomach fluttered and jumped at the heated touch of his fingers on her stomach.
Desire hit a new high when he cupped her breast, toying with her nipple. He teased the nub, twisting and raking his nails over it. She was panting and squirming in a heartbeat.
“Like that?” he breathed. “I bet you taste as good as you smell.”
She wasn’t used to having a guy talk during sex, or making out. She quickly found out it was a fast rush of a turn on.
Moans slipped free when he moved from her lips to the arch of her neck, nipping and running his teeth and tongue over nerves. Lightning zinged from the side of her neck to her breast, back and forth as he teased and licked. She arched and moaned shamelessly when he switched his teasing to her other breast.
“You should never wear a bra around me. I love being able to touch you, just like this.” And he showed her, his hand cupping her, rubbing her, between the mounds and then back to the hard peaks he’d created. He shaped them, caressed them. Pinching to within a heartbeat of real pain, then soothing them within his palm. He worshipped her body. “You should see yourself. You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmured against her ear, licking at the shell then finding the lobe between his teeth. “I can’t wait to see you completely lost, beneath my touch.”
“Jonas,” she whimpered. Her insides ached with all the teasing. Dampness slicked her core. Muscles were clenching in demand, in unfulfilled need. Craving pleasure she hadn’t had in six long years.
“What baby? You know you want to tell me, to say it. I’ve seen in it your eyes every time I kissed you. You want, baby.” She whimpered again. She did want. She wanted everything he was doing to never stop. She threw back her head and gasped as new shivers rocked her body. “I know what you want,” he reassured her when insecurity seemed to have silenced her tongue.
And oh damn, but did he.
He bent down and licked at her breast with his wicked tongue. The shriek was a little louder.
“Shh. Can’t have anyone calling the cops,” he told her with a wolfish grin. He took a deep breath. “Damn, you smell so good, so hot.” Then he ducked down again and suckled on her breast. He tipped her up and encircled her completely in his hot mouth. Drawing her deep with sharp pulls, he bit lightly at her breasts, and she writhed in answer. She clenched his head, her world spinning as her body tightened. He suckled and twirled her nipple until she shook in his hold. She knew she was wet. She hadn’t felt this needy in years.
The snap came free on her shorts and she moved a hip, opening for his touch. She’d beg for it at this point. She ached and burned. A deep sound erupted from his chest when she felt his fingers toying with the curls above her sex. She actually quivered beneath his fingers.
Then he slid his fingers south, and it was all she could do to not scream in ecstasy.
He buried his lips beneath her ear, sucking hard on tender skin as he caressed her clit. “I knew you were wet,” he said, his voice hoarse.
Shocks erupted when he manipulated her folds to give him better access into her heat. He rubbed his fingers slowly up and down, teasing her, spreading the slickness of her arousal over her heated flesh. She stretched out against his shoulder, hooking a leg over one of his knees.
“Yes. Just like that,” he told her then swirled his thumb over her clit. “I’m going to make you come, Stacee. I want to feel you come, your pussy tight around me, feeling me.”
She quaked. “Yesss,” she moaned. “Please.” She stopped caring about anything; her entire world was his hands and what they were doing to her body.
He slid one finger then two into the aching heat of her pussy. She clutched at anything within reach as he stroked her walls, easing his fingers in and out in a slow rhythm.
“Imagine my cock doing this to you.” He drew out then pushed in, twisting a little to touch several places, then his thumb flicked at her clit. “You want to feel me filling you, don’t you?”
“Yes!” she gasped, fighting hard to not shout.
“Take my cock, Stacee. I’m filling your pussy.” His voice was a dark grinding in her ear, filled with delicious temptation and pleasure she’d never known. He pulled out and slammed his hand into her, ramming the heel of his palm against her sensitive skin. She whimpered. “You’re slick and so tight.” He did it again, twisting and touching as he mimicked the motion of his hard cock filling her body. Contractions raced down from her womb. “Yes, Stacee. You want to come. Let yourself go.”
Somehow he wrapped his other arm around her and traced her mouth with a finger. Lost in the sea of desire, she wantonly sucked his digit into her mouth, suckling on him as he fucked her pussy.
“Shit Stacee,” he groaned. Then he increased the tempo and she was lost. Her orgasm started as a whiteout, a blast of ecstasy that spilled stars into her eyes. She sucked harder on his finger and he didn’t disappoint, pounding against her flesh in a rapid, intense rhythm. “Come sweetheart,” he ordered. “Come now!”
And she did. Gasping for breath, her body bucked as she tightened around his hand. He ground against her mound. Shocks flared in all directions, up her body and down her legs. With her head tossed back, she sank into the orgasm, floating as her body clutched and milked the hand that filled her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt that good, felt that level of pleasure, if ever. It took a few minutes to finally begin to recognize the world surrounding her. And the very hard body of the man beneath her.
He was panting, resting against her shoulder.
“Jonas?” she whispered.
“Shh. Don’t move. Just…don’t move.” He was gasping for breath the same as she. She shook when he twisted his fingers then pulled them away. What he did next was surprising and erotic. He drew each finger into his mouth and savored the flavor, licking away the slick sign of her pleasure with the utmost care and enjoyment.
“I knew you’d taste good,” he told her, his expression calm even though she felt how tense he was beneath her. He had to be in pain. But he stopped her when she tried to move. “No. Don’t move.”
“But—”
“I’m fine.” He swept his arms around her and tucked her against his shoulder, just holding her. He brushed her hair to the side and said, “You’ve got a new bruise, but your hair will cover this one.”
She placed a hand over the sensitive spot and felt the way her pulse beat against it. He gave her a hickey? “I’m not complaining.” She grinned at his apologetic blink. “About any of it.”
He tipped her chin. “This wasn’t a onetime deal, Stacee. I want you; we both just need better timing.”
“I think I can do something about that.”
He
smiled, those aqua eyes of his warming. She snuggled in closer to his shoulder, and he looped his arms around her. Her eyes drifted shut in satisfied bliss, while she enjoyed the feel of his arms wrapped around her.
A few minutes later, he told her, “There’s something I have to tell you before that happens though.”
Oh, that did not sound good. All kinds of serious problems came to mind. Diseases were at the top of the list. Was he married? He didn’t act like the guilty, deceiving type. Was it something physical? He didn’t seem to have an erectile problem. She had felt it more than once.
“What?” she queried when he seemed hesitant to explain more. Anxiety was running all kinds of worrisome problems through her thoughts now that he’d said that.
A buzz sounded beneath her hip. He reached into his pocket and answered his phone.
“Dreyer.” He sat and listened for a brief moment. “Okay. I’m on my way.” He snapped the phone shut. “Sorry sweetheart. Back to the grind.”
“Just tell me you’re not married,” she demanded quickly, unable to hide the hurt frown.
He froze, then caught her gaze. He relaxed beneath her, snuggling her closer for a tender moment. “Not at all. Never have been.”
Then that only left… “Okay, what is it then?”
“It’s nothing life threatening or hideously awful.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I got ahead of myself. I’ll explain it, but it’s not an emergency.”
“You promise? This isn’t teasing to get even for me taunting the big dog, is it?” She slid from his lap, finding herself back in her own seat once more. She lifted her hips to button her shorts and straightened her tank top.
“Baby, you can taunt the big dog all you want. He’ll never bite you. I promise you that,” he assured her with a wink. “I want to explain it, and I will, but I need to get back to the office.”
When she couldn’t meet his stare, he lifted her chin with a gentle hand. “Sweetheart, you trust me with your life, don’t you?” She nodded, swallowing hard. It wasn’t fair when he looked at her that way, as though she was the most perfect woman on the planet, and she was his. “Trust me a little longer and I’ll tell you everything. Okay?”
She knew she had no choice to but see it through. She was falling. Falling hard for the agent, and the man.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The last of her house was clean. Hallelujah. She didn’t want to go through this again. What a mess, she thought with a derisive head shake. Her newly upholstered couch cushions were due by the end of the following week along with several smaller pieces that she’d had to special order to replace. A few knick-knacks she’d simply written off. The less hassle the better after the week she’d spent.
Her closet was mostly put back together, the last of her tossed possessions going back to where they belonged as she tidied up. She spotted the shopping bags on the floor, her latest finds that she’d all but forgotten about with people following her and breaking into her house.
After that glorious stolen interlude with Jonas, she’d come back home to work on her house, and he’d gone back to his office. It was something she would have to accept. It was his work, his job. She knew he wasn’t in quite the same kind of danger her father had lived in everyday, but it still wasn’t like working in an office everyday either.
Honestly, she didn’t think she was lying to herself to admit that she could accept that his job was dangerous. Someone had to do it, and Jonas was damn good at it. He’d told her some of his background Friday night over thick hoagie sandwiches and wine while they listened to the music in the park. It had been the best date she’d had since her divorce. Even cuddled beneath a blanket, all he’d done was massage her thighs or arms. He never tried to push for something more. Although she’d found out today just what happened if she was the one who pushed for it. And she had no complaints. The smile she’d worn since he’d left her side was pretty self-explanatory.
She lifted the different store bags from the bottom of her now mostly clean closet, setting them on her bed to spread out and clip tags to disperse the new things through her wardrobe. There wasn’t a rush to get to them. They were winter clothes, from last season on sale. Not that anyone else had to know that.
She pulled the long sweaters out and spread them on her bed, admiring the colors, feeling a bit victorious over finding the designer labels for a steal. She pulled the receipt from between two of them, remembering exactly how her day had gone after she’d first touched it, then folded the bag to toss.
A skittering sound inside of the coated paper bag stopped her. Curious, she opened it and looked.
And felt her heart slam to a dead stop.
A single small bubble package, less than an inch thick slid along the bottom of the paper bag. It was roughly as long as her hand when she pulled it out and held it.
“Oh shit,” she choked out, feeling her stomach shoot into her throat then fall like a rock to her feet.
* * * *
Jonas was rereading files on the Senator, trying to find his connection to pin him with the intelligence espionage when Randy stopped by his desk.
“Hey, Dreyer. Did you hear? Your courier boy was bailed out this morning.”
He snapped up. “He was? When?”
“About ten.” Jonas looked at his watch. It was well past six. He’d left Stacee over two hours ago.
“Who set his bail?” He was already rising from his chair. When things move, they moved fast and for the first time, he tasted real fear. Only it wasn’t for him.
“He claimed it was a relative, but the money was wired in from D.C.”
“And the other two?”
“Still sitting in their cells.”
“Shit,” he ground out. “He was the only one who may know where the memory boards are. Trace that money wire!” He started for the front doors of the ground floor nearly at a run. He knew that the courier was heading straight for Stacee. It wouldn’t be hard to play connect the dots at this point for anyone and come up with Stacee Hales.
His phone rang just as he jumped into his vehicle.
“Dreyer.”
“Um, Jonas. You know that certain thing you’ve been looking for?”
He winced at the violent tremor in her voice. “You found it, didn’t you?”
“Uh huh.”
“Lock your doors. I’m on my way.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, sounding completely relieved. “I—”
“Stacee!” He shouted her name. He didn’t care that several heads had swung around to gape at him. The line had gone eerily dead.
He punched speed dial with his heart stuck between his ribs. “Randy. Stacee Hales found the boards. Her line just went dead.”
“Rally the troops?” he asked.
Jonas narrowed his eyes as he hit the freeway well over the speed limit. “Bring who you can spare.”
“On it.”
He disconnected and tossed his phone to the seat, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles popped. He counted the minutes as he floored the gas pedal, ticking off miles to Stacee’s house.
* * * *
Stacee’s hand shook. “Jonas?” she squeaked. Nothing. “Oh God. This is not funny.” Dropping the cordless phone from her bedroom, she raced for the front door, making sure she had locked it. She lurched to a frozen stop. She heard footsteps outside her door and gulped air. Jonas couldn’t possibly be there already.
Backpedaling for the kitchen, she opened the dishwasher and tossed the small package in the silverware basket, locked the door, and ran for her bedroom.
Someone jiggled the front doorknob behind her, and she slammed her bedroom door just before whoever was outside her front door shot the lock out of it. Her whole body flinched at the explosive sound and the ensuing crash as the door was shoved inward.
“I told you she would be easy to find,” she heard someone say through the door, hearing far more bravado than a voice that young should have. He must have been the one with the gun.
There was silence to his statement though. Was it one or two? How many were out there? She frowned when she heard steps, apparently unconcerned with being noticed. Definitely more than one. Why was her house the one getting all the assholes?
“Yeah, yeah. No, they haven’t found the chips. She has to still have them.”
Stacee gulped again and anxiously searched her room for something, anything, to protect herself with. The pillows off her bed? Not even. She refrained from cursing. She didn’t even own a bat. Her mother had her father’s remaining gear at her house. She had nothing. She heard a crash and winced at the shattered sound. Probably one of her large lamps or TV. Just that much more to clean up. Another loud crash. Her poor living room. She wanted to cry. It seemed they didn’t know she was still in the house. She’d put her car in the garage since it was Sunday. Lucky her. The phone cord must have been a precaution.
Her gaze went to the open closet in desperation. One of the extension pipes from the vacuum cleaner? She dismissed it right away. Where was her mini tool kit? She did a mental search and discarded the idea with disappointment. The toolbox was in the hall storage closet. No hammers here.
Damn!
Okay, think Stacee! What do you have? She searched and got an idea, a trick her father once told her about when she had rented her first apartment. She only hoped it would work.
Unplugging her lamp she set her plan in action, thankful she still had the scissors on her bed from when she’d been snipping tags free from her clothes.
Wrapping the wires quickly, she twisted the ends together to hold bared copper flush against the knob then carefully plugged the cord in. Nothing happened, but she wasn’t going to be the one to test the theory either.
Watching Her Every Move Page 6
