“I’m not—”
“You just get into bed beside me since I already have a hard-on and make the moves on me and I doubt I’d be able to fight you off.”
“God, you’re conceited.”
“I just don’t have time for any bullshit flirtation. I’m not going to sleep with you—fuck you, I mean.”
“You didn’t seem so reticent back at the house.”
“Intelligence gathering,” he said precisely as she did, mimicking him.
He went right on, “But no matter how turned-on I am, it’s not going to happen.”
“The gentleman doth protest too much, methinks,” she taunted, but he ignored the play on Shakespeare and continued.
“You’re an incredibly sexy girl, and in any other situation, I’d be happy to teach you about good sex, but I’m afraid in this situation, I can’t.”
Her chin shot right back up with indignation at that last part. “Who asked you to?”
“Good. Just so we’re clear on that. So get in bed.”
“Why not?”
“Why not what?”
“Why can’t you have sex with me? Not that I’m asking you to. I just want to know.”
At the very last minute, she wondered whether there might be some kind of elaborate reverse psychology going on. Whether maybe he was nudging her out of her unease by saying he couldn’t sleep with her.
“I can’t because you’re a charge. Under my care.”
“That’s some kind of a rule?”
“Yes. For one thing, you probably only want to because you’re scared and sex is a natural reaction to being scared.”
“I wanted to have sex with you before I was scared,” she pointed out, never one to lose an argument. “In fact, as soon as I saw you.”
He shook his head. “I’m touched, but since you thought I was there for that, I’m not sure it counts for much. And if you’re trying to get me even more turned-on, by the way, you’re doing a pretty good job of it.”
“Thanks,” she said sarcastically.
“But, come on, Veronica, you got to know from every thriller you’ve ever seen, I can’t take advantage of you. I’m one of the good guys.”
She harrumphed. “So you say.”
She did believe he was one of the good guys or she wouldn’t still be there. She would have scrambled away to the desk clerk or called the police herself while he was getting the condoms or the diet coke.
“And it depends on who’s playing the part, anyway,” she added. “And, while we’re at it, it’s chauvinistic to think having sex with me would be taking advantage of me. I’m an adult. I can make my own decisions.”
“Maybe. But if a woman wanted to sleep with me in this kind of situation after what we’d just been through—”
“I didn’t say I wanted to sleep with you. Except, I mean, when I thought that’s what you were there for.”
He went right on, “I may want to, a lot. If she’s as sexy as you, I mean. And I can think about it all I want, maybe while I’m jerking off in the shower.”
Whoa. That was an image she was not going to get out of her head. Lucky girl that she was.
“But I wouldn’t do it. Because the woman wouldn’t be thinking clearly with all this pressure and fear.”
She shrugged. “What the hell. It was what I was planning to do tonight, anyway.”
He stared at her and reached out one casual finger to trace her collarbone exposed by her T-shirt. “Yes. And we ruined it for you, didn’t we?”
“Yes. You did.” With just the touch of that one finger, she could feel herself getting wet.
“Poor baby.”
He came closer and so did she. She bit her lip and shivered as he ran that wandering finger along the curve of her throat.
“Don’t call me baby. It’s condescending.”
“So you’re asking me to have sex with you—”
“I haven’t asked,” she insisted.
“Other than by perching on the edge of the bed and grilling me about it,” he noted. “But if you did, it wouldn’t be just the situation? It’d be an honest-to-God birthday wish to have uncomplicated, really good sex.”
She hesitated then nodded. What the hell? It was the truth, anyway.
He leaned closer still. “Would you settle for a birthday kiss?”
The kiss was sweet, a light pressing of lips. Then it wasn’t. He cupped the back of her head and pulled her into it, sifting his fingers through her hair. Opening her mouth with his, he thrust his tongue in, moving it some way against her own that caused a powerful pang of longing. Right between her legs. He kicked the covers away and came up to his knees.
Though he was practically naked, she wasn’t and he eased her T-shirt up and over her breasts, the grazing touch wildly exciting, and slid it over her head. Making out with him in her bedroom had been sexy, but just a mild foreshadowing of the thrilling sensation thrumming through her now with their clothes coming off. He pushed her back onto the bed and lay down next to her, one of his hard legs over hers as he continued to kiss her, on his side now as she lay on her back.
Whenever she’d had sex in the past, whether in her last so-called relationship or any awkward forays into it before that, she had been oddly detached. It had always felt as if she wasn’t experiencing it, but rather was floating above, noting that one touch from her partner was too hard and one too soft and one just, just off somehow. Like Goldilocks. She had never been in the moment—unless it was just her and her vibrator.
He rubbed his erect cock against her hip and she moaned, causing him to laugh a little against her mouth.
Boy, was she in the moment now. And it was a hell of a lot better than any vibrator. It may even have been worth all that shooting at her.
“You like that, Veronica?” His kissed his way down her throat in light, intoxicating kisses until he got to her bra.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Good.” He rolled over on to his back. “Happy birthday. Now go to sleep.”
Jonathon wasn’t sure how he’d gotten from ‘getting a few things straight’ to taking Veronica’s shirt off, his tongue buried in her sweet little mouth. Jesus, that kiss had been a stupid idea. His cock was aching even worse now and it had been nearly impossible to take his hands off her once he’d started. Playing around with her when he’d thought he was on a simple baby-sitting errand was one thing, but it was different now. Those shooters back at her house had been real.
Something about her guileless confession—not to mention her hot body and soft lips—really turned him on. But he couldn’t fuck her. No, that wasn’t right. He could. Big-time. But he wasn’t supposed to and never had, slept with a charge, that is, never even been tempted, and he shouldn’t start now.
Her first instinct—thanking him for the offer but pointing out they had bigger things to attend to—was the right one. He hadn’t been able to resist teasing her as he’d stripped and by the time he’d gotten down to his boxers, he’d realized he’d been only half-teasing. The other half had been ready to go.
Bad enough that he’d participated in her round-about flirtation—if that was even what it had been, since she did seem kind of clueless as to how turned-on that kind of discussion could get a guy—but to then have taken it to the next step? The physical. Because for all he’d accused her of trying to turn him on, he was the one who’d kissed her this time. In fact, he’d almost gone for it, coming to his senses only at the last minute, trying to keep it light.
So now, instead of concentrating on the mission, or simply sleeping, he was reviewing Latin conjugations and trying not to think of her.
“You’re not only chauvinistic, you’re kind of a tease.” She pulled back the blanket and slid into bed beside him, her back to him, leaving a good foot between them, then switched off the lamp on her side. Though she held herself tense, he would bet she’d be asleep soon. She couldn’t possibly be used to this level of stress and was more exhausted than she knew. It would do her good t
o sleep. Both of them.
Too bad only one of them could now.
“Another time, another place,” he muttered.
He turned his bedside lamp off, too, plunging the room into near darkness with only the faint light that peeked through the slightly parted curtain for illumination. He waited for the sound of her even breathing. Minutes went by and he didn’t hear it.
Meanwhile, he was the one getting tense now. Because that foot of space between them was becoming smaller and smaller—and he wasn’t moving an inch. Her sweet little ass was nudging back toward him until, when he felt it touch his hipbone, he rolled over on to his side, away from her, coward that he was. If he thought he could have pretended to be asleep, he would have. But his audible breathing, which he couldn’t seem to slow and the hard-on straining his underwear which he couldn’t seem to lose would have given him away, anyway. So he didn’t even try it as she came over on to her side toward him and snuggled up against him, spooning.
Christ.
“What are you doing?”
“Somebody gave me the advice that if I wanted to get laid, I should just come on to a guy while he has a hard-on.” She ran her hand along his hip, around his waist, and clasped the head of his cock through the straining cotton.
He jerked, so turned-on he was afraid to take a deep breath.
“So that’s what I’m doing,” she whispered.
“I told you I couldn’t sleep with you.”
“Yeah. That’s what you said.” She slipped her hand underneath the waistband and clutched the length of his burning hot cock. “But I’m kind of getting a different message here.”
She squeezed and he groaned. He couldn’t help it.
“So I’m trying a little experiment.”
“I thought you said you weren’t good with guys. You’re doing pretty damn well here.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t good with them. More like I didn’t have the time for them. And that they weren’t good with me. But I’ve got the time now. I couldn’t sleep if I tried. And as to that ‘not good with me’ thing, I don’t think you have that problem.”
No, he sure as hell didn’t have that problem. Not with her cuddled up to his ass and stroking his cock and whispering in his ear, her lush tits pressed against his back. He’d be good with her all right. They’d be good together.
It was stupid of him to have started this game and stupid of her to continue it. He knew that. But he could control himself. He could.
If he wanted to. And right now, control wasn’t high on his list of wants. A few other things were.
* * * *
Mike Manachevitz read the first page of the chapter he was supposed to finish for Chemistry tomorrow for the third time. He’d bagged on the Shakespeare, which he was never so hot at understanding without a hell of a lot of footnotes, anyway, and had switched to his favorite subject in an effort to get his concentration back on track. He was only working in this crummy motel to save the money for college. He wanted to be—no, he was going to be—a doctor someday and for that he needed top grades in everything, but especially in the sciences.
Tonight, though, he was having a hell of a time doing his homework at the front desk as usual. Not that he was any pervert or anything, but the thought of needing condoms for the tall, blonde Mrs. Smith was darn near impossible for an eighteen-year-old guy to shake. Especially one who’d never had a hookup, let alone a girlfriend.
He glanced out of the front window toward the second-story room that the Smiths were in. The light had been on last time he had looked, not that he could see anything through the heavy curtains—not that he would want to, for that matter, since again, he wasn’t a pervert or anything—but now the room was dark. He took a deep breath, wondering how they were doing it.
Slamming the Chemistry book closed, he swore.
“Problem, kid?”
Mike looked up to see a muscular guy at his desk. How the hell had he gotten here? He hadn’t heard a thing. “What? No. Sorry, mister. I just, ah, this Chemistry is a bitch.”
He grinned at the guy, who didn’t return the favor. The muscle-man looked kind of serious, pissed even.
“You need a room?” Mike glanced out the front window, but he seemed to be alone. “Mr. eh—”
“Nope. Just some information, kid. I’m looking for a couple. Dark-haired man, about six foot two. Blonde woman, five foot eight, slender.”
Mike froze. Oh, Christ. Was this the husband? He glanced up at the room where the couple was probably having sex even now, trying to keep his face from betraying anything.
“A couple? No, I don’t think so.”
The guy looked around the empty lobby, pulled a gun from his waistband and said, “Well, think again, kid. What room?”
Chapter Five
#xa0;
Jonathon rolled over, flipped Veronica on to her back, and shoved his bare leg between hers. Without preliminaries, he reached beneath him and tugged her leggings off, leaving on her panties. For now. Then he anchored her wrists beside her face and did what he’d been dying to do since well before she’d even told him about her fucking birthday. He arched his cock against her pussy, feeling how good it was, only cotton between them.
Cotton hadn’t been involved in his fantasy, but he didn’t want to rush the moment.
Oh, he was so going to give her what she was asking for. The soft skin of her throat was like velvet against his lips as he kissed his way down. He heard her soft moan.
But then he heard something else.
A step on the walkway outside. He raised his head, listening. It came again, faintly, but closer, and the light on the walkway that had shone through the slit in the curtains went dark. He froze and switched off the side of himself that had been planning to fuck his charge and switched on the side that was supposed to be protecting her.
God, had he forgotten to get his gun out of his jacket before he got into bed?
For not the first time in his life, it dawned on him why rules were made to be followed. How did he always manage to forget that lesson after the fact? Getting romantic with a charge was off limits because it was distracting, stupid and, not least of all, dangerous.
The footfalls stopped a few doors down. Keeping his ears tuned for anything other than the door being kicked in—which is what he was expecting—he put his mouth to her ear, experiencing a sense of déjà vu from the kitchen, and clamped his hand over her mouth. Her eyes popped open. “There’s someone outside,” he whispered. “When I say to, roll over and get between the bed and the wall.”
She nodded.
He removed his hand from her mouth, murmuring, “Now.”
He rolled off the other side of the bed and sprinted to his jacket on the chair, getting the gun out as the footfalls turned into a run.
The door was kicked open and, just as fast, one man came in, an automatic weapon pointed at the bed. Whether he had time to be surprised or not that the bed was empty, Jonathon couldn’t have said, but he was thinking not. His own almost instantaneous shot from where he was crouched under the table hit the guy in the back of the head and he fell face forward, gun in hand.
Though Jonathon was paying attention primarily to his aim, out of the corner of his eye he noticed whoever was behind the first guy fell back out of sight.
God, this was not good. How had they gotten here so fast? He had been sure he had a little time here. He’d figured it would take a while for whoever had sent those men to Veronica’s house to find out they were dead and send somebody else after her. Their speed in following them could mean only one thing. There was a tracker on something he or Veronica had brought with them.
He shut off the thought automatically. It wasn’t going to do them any good for him to do otherwise. Analyzing the situation, he knew he had to grab the dead guy’s gun, but it was risky to let whoever was out there have such a clear shot at him.
“Dr. Barrett,” a voice called out from right next to the open door, against the wall, from the sound o
f it. “The man you have with you is a spy. His orders are to kill you.”
Whoever was out there was a caliber above the guys back at Veronica’s house, since he was smart enough to try to lure his prey out of hiding.
But Veronica was smarter. She didn’t move a muscle. Not the slightest flicker of sound came from where she was hiding. He wished he could see her, to reassure her, just in case she had the slightest of doubts.
“Your life is in danger,” the unseen man tried again.
Jonathon tensed.
When she didn’t come out, the man proceeded to add, “We won’t kill you, Vale. If you surrender, I promise we won’t. You’re of use to us, too.”
Now, that was stupid. The oldest trick in the book. And if they knew who he was, they knew he wouldn’t fall for it by surrendering or even respond to it by telling them to go fuck themselves and thereby give away his position. They’d probably guessed where he was from the angle of the shot he’d taken, but they couldn’t know whether Veronica was with him, so they wouldn’t risk blindly shooting in that direction. They would want her alive. Him…not so much.
But the ridiculous offer did give him pause.
If they knew who he was, not just that their agents had died, then there was not only a tracker on them, as he’d suspected, but a mole in the Agency, as well. In addition, the guy was so confident at letting him know that fact that it meant the odds were probably a little better for the bad guys in this situation than they had been at the house. More than one guy with an automatic was out there now. He was sure of it.
All he had going for him was that they would want to end this quickly, kill him and grab Dr. Barrett before pesky outsiders, including cops, showed up on the scene.
He figured he didn’t have too long, all things considered, before they stormed the room and he did whatever damage he could manage. And he wouldn’t be able to manage much without more gun power. So he had to chance it.
Belly down, he crawled the slightest bit out from the table then launched himself as quickly as he could toward the dead guy’s automatic. He managed to grab it and, using it to spray a cover of bullets, got to the outside wall of the room, next to the open doorway, crouching with his back against it.
Alone With an Escort Page 6
