by Elle Kennedy
“Seeing you do anything gets me hot.” His sultry gaze locked with hers before he wrenched it back to the road.
As he drove toward the highway, Juliet drew her Beretta from her waistband and rested it on her lap, getting comfortable for the two-hour drive.
“I think Mironov’s past association with Noelle helped paved the way to his cooperation,” she said. “And now we can cross the PRF off our list and I can move on Orlov without you having to worry about any accomplices.”
“He might still be working with someone else. We’re not touching Orlov until we know for sure.”
His stern response triggered her annoyance. “Come on, rookie. What more do you want to do? Dig under every rock until we’re one hundred percent certain Orlov is working alone?”
“If we don’t, then Anastacia Karin and the others will never be safe,” he argued.
“I don’t care. The son of a bitch killed my brother. I’m taking him out.”
She suddenly realized she hadn’t thought about Henry since they’d saved Anastacia, but now the memory of him in that hospital bed came rushing back and her body trembled with rage. Her brother was dead. Caught in the cross fire of Dmitry Orlov’s thirst for vengeance.
For that, Orlov deserved to be erased from the planet.
“I’m taking him out,” she said again through clenched teeth. “Feel free to stick around after he’s dead, in case someone else moves on the targets.”
“You’re the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met—you know that?”
She relaxed when he didn’t voice another argument. “Yeah, but we both know you like it. I bet my pigheadedness turns you on as much as my interrogation skills.”
“You’d win that bet.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh yeah.” The heat returned to his eyes, thickening the air between them. “Like I said, everything about you is a turn-on. When I was keeping watch last night, I spent the entire time trying to figure out a way to get you alone so we could make it to third base.”
She flashed him a mischievous grin. “Well, we’re alone now, are we not?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Are you serious?”
“Why not? Look around you. Deserted stretch of road, no people or houses in sight . . .”
His voice grew husky. “What are you saying? You want me to pull over and ravish you on the side of the road?”
“Why not?” she said again. “I’m sure Aussie and Boston can man the fort alone for a little while longer.”
She expected Ethan to dismiss the idea with a laugh, but the next thing she knew, he veered off the road so fast she almost flew out of her seat.
He didn’t park on the shoulder of the rural road. He steered the Range Rover right onto the snow instead, speeding across an empty field toward a crumbling, abandoned barn about a hundred yards away. The vehicle’s big snow tires allowed for an easy, albeit bumpy drive, and Juliet laughed and braced her hand on the dashboard as the four-by-four bounced over the field in a mad pace.
“Someone’s overly eager,” she commented.
“Ha. Like you aren’t. Now, turn on your seat warmer, because you’re going to be out of those pants in about, oh, ten seconds.”
Her breath caught in her throat when she glimpsed the hunger burning in his eyes. Lord, he looked ready to devour her. Her body instantly responded, breasts tingling and pussy clenching with need.
She unbuckled her seat belt and wiggled out of her jeans as if she were trying to break the world record for fastest pants removal.
Before the car even came to a complete stop, Ethan was reaching for the waistband of her black thong and tugging on the strap. He ripped the thong right off her body, eliciting a delighted squeak from her lips. Holy moly. Who was this man and how did he continue to surprise her?
He tossed the torn underwear in the backseat, shoved the gearshift into park, and licked his lips as he turned to her. “Move your seat back. Now.”
A dark thrill shot through her. She did as he asked, acutely aware that her lower body was completely exposed to him. The heat emitted from the leather seat kept her bare ass warm, but an involuntary shiver danced through her as she waited for Ethan to make his next move.
Slow and methodical, he undid his seat belt. His gaze never left hers as he climbed over the center console and sank to his knees in front of her. The raw passion in his eyes robbed her of breath, and when he lazily dragged his callused fingertips over her left thigh, she almost passed out from the anticipation.
“Technically, I don’t think third base should involve my tongue on your pussy, but you cheated with second base, so I’m cheating now.”
The dirty talk made her pulse race. Sweet mother of God. If someone had told her that this man, with his preppy clothes and boyish grins and courteous ways, was capable of tearing off a woman’s panties at the seams and going down on her in public, she would have laughed them right out of town.
But here he was, kneeling before her, teasing the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs with his fingers, making her heart thump with excitement.
“You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever met,” he rasped, his gaze traveling up her bare legs and settling on her most intimate place.
Then he planted both hands on her thighs and slowly spread her legs wider.
She shivered again. Couldn’t remember ever feeling this way before. Damp palms, pounding heart, throbbing core. She feared she might actually explode before he even touched her aching sex.
When Ethan dipped his head and brought his mouth between her legs, Juliet jerked as if she’d been shot.
“Oh God,” she moaned.
His lips were firm and warm, his tongue gentle as he dragged it over her slit. He licked her like he had all the time in the world, a slow and languid exploration that had her seeing stars.
“You. Taste. Like. Heaven.” Each word was punctuated by the lazy swipe of his tongue over her clit.
Juliet watched as he pleasured her, floored by the sight. His dark eyelashes swept downward as he closed his eyes. Little growls of contentment rumbled out of his mouth, his tongue growing more insistent. He lapped at her with purpose now, as if his sole goal in life was to make her come apart.
The pressure between her legs was unbearable. She whimpered, feeling edgy, desperate, needing something more to ease the tension building inside her.
“I need . . .” She gasped when he captured her clit between his lips and sucked. “Need . . . your finger . . .”
Without missing a beat, he pushed two long fingers into her tight channel, skillfully working her sex while his mouth tended to her clit. It was too much—and just enough. The climax careened through her in a fiery rush, sizzling in her veins until every square inch of her body pulsed with delicious ecstasy.
She fought for breath, then moaned with abandon when she realized Ethan wasn’t done yet. He allowed her no recovery time, just eased the pressure on her swollen clit and continued to torment her with his fingers.
When he curled those fingers and hit a sweet spot deep inside, a second wave of pleasure swelled in her belly, spilling over so fast, so unexpectedly, that it caught her by total surprise. The second release left her breathless, and still Ethan kept going. This time he removed his fingers and replaced them with his tongue, spearing into her while his thumb applied pressure to her clit until a third climax slammed into her, then a fourth, and then her mind fragmented into a million pieces and soared to a new plane where only bliss and Ethan’s tongue existed.
By the time he pulled that talented mouth away, her legs were limp spaghetti noodles and her body was so incredibly sated, she couldn’t move.
His satisfied chuckle broke through the haze of pleasure. “How was that? Good enough for a rookie? Or do I need more practice?”
He promptly lowered his head to her mound and once again skimmed his tongue
over her clit.
Juliet grabbed a hunk of his hair and stilled him. “Oh, God, no more,” she cried out. “I can’t take any more.”
He peered up at her in challenge. “I remember you telling me that I could never, and I quote, give you what you need in the bedroom. Isn’t that what you said, sweetheart?”
“I was wrong,” she burst out. “I was so fucking wrong, okay?”
Laughing, he planted one last kiss between her legs, then climbed back into his seat. “That’s what I thought.”
Oh, boy, that cocky alpha male attitude was liable to kill her. She could actually feel her body stirring again, in spite of the orgasmic assault Ethan Hayes had just launched on it.
“Now put on your jeans, sweetheart. We can’t have you strolling into the safe house looking like that. I’d have to murder Sully and Liam, and I really don’t feel like it.”
Juliet’s heartbeat remained erratic as she fumbled to put on her jeans. Commando, thanks to Ethan’s unapologetic annihilation of her underwear. When she glanced over at him, it was impossible not to notice the hard ridge of arousal straining against the fabric of his trousers.
He caught her staring and grinned. “You’re dying to go all the way, huh?”
“God, yes.” No point in playing coy or denying it. Juliet craved this man so bad she could barely breathe. Who would’ve thought.
To her disappointment, he didn’t unzip his pants. He simply started the engine.
She gaped at him. “Seriously?”
“We’ve been gone long enough. The boys are probably getting impatient.”
“I’m getting impatient.”
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that the anticipation is half the fun?”
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that you’re a major tease?”
“Tease?” he scoffed. “I just made you come three times.”
She gritted her teeth. “Four.”
That only perked him up. “Four? Nice.”
“Oh, stop grinning, kiddo. Wait until I finally get you naked. You won’t be able to move for days,” she warned.
Another wave of laughter spilled out of his mouth. “Are you threatening me with good sex? Clearly you don’t know much about men.”
He was still snorting in amusement as he shifted gears and drove back to the road.
• • •
Stacie was overcome with relief when Ethan and Juliet finally returned from their mysterious errand. She wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t feel the same level of comfort with the other two men as she did with the people who’d saved her life yesterday.
Nina had tried to kill her.
She was still reeling over it, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t control the suffocating terror that was causing her to shiver every few minutes. She understood why she couldn’t call her father, but that didn’t mean she liked it.
She also didn’t like the woman they’d brought to the farmhouse. Alisa had been complaining all day long—at least when she wasn’t flirting with the handsome man they called Liam.
Stacie had spent the day playing cards with the blond man, Sullivan, who’d taught her how to play two different kinds of poker. They’d used toothpicks instead of money, and in between hands he’d told her about someone named Evangeline. She suspected it was his girlfriend, but she couldn’t be sure because the whole conversation had been very confusing. Stacie had thought her English was perfect, so either she was wrong about that or she’d misunderstood him when he’d described his girlfriend as sturdy and said she had “clean lines.”
But as nice as Sullivan was, the panic weighing on her chest didn’t ease until her saviors walked through the door.
From her seat at the kitchen table, she watched as they removed their coats and winter gear. Juliet took off her hat and smoothed her hands over her long, dark hair, which was so thick and shiny, it made Stacie self-conscious about her plain, stringy tresses. She didn’t think she’d ever met a prettier woman. Juliet was so beautiful, it was hard not to be envious when you were around her.
And Ethan was so handsome, Stacie felt herself blush each time his warm hazel eyes focused on her.
“Everything go okay?” Sullivan rose from his chair and joined the newcomers, the poker game all but forgotten.
Ethan nodded. “The PRF isn’t involved.”
“Well, that’s one less thing to worry about.”
As the four adults spoke among themselves, Stacie fidgeted with her stack of toothpicks, feeling awkward and out of place. She wondered if she should tell them that today was her birthday.
Why? They’re not going to care.
The little voice evoked a wave of sadness. It was true. These people were strangers to her. If her own father hadn’t cared about her sixteenth birthday, why should they?
Tears pricked her eyes, spurring her to push back her chair and shoot to her feet.
The adults instantly swiveled their heads in her direction.
“Hey, Anastacia,” Ethan said, greeting her with a gentle smile. “You holding up okay?”
She nodded, bit hard on the insides of her cheeks in order to stop the tears from spilling over. “I’m fine. Can I go lie down in the other bedroom? Alisa is sleeping in the main one.”
A groove of concern appeared in Ethan’s forehead. “Sure. But are you certain you’re all right?”
“I’m fine,” she said woodenly.
And then she hurried to the corridor, refusing to let them see her cry.
It wasn’t fair.
Life was never fair to her.
Her mother was dead. Her father didn’t know she existed.
She had to wonder, did he even care that his assistant had tried to kill her? Ethan kept saying it wasn’t safe to have any contact with her dad right now, and although Stacie was overwrought about it, she would bet her trust fund that her father wasn’t at all broken up about the lack of contact. He was probably at another safe house, drinking his favorite whiskey as he waited for the danger to pass, not once thinking about his daughter.
Stacie entered the bedroom and threw herself on the ugly orange bedspread, curling up on her side as the tears streamed down her cheeks. She was sixteen today. She didn’t feel older, though. Just tired. And more alone than ever.
A soft knock on the door had her lurching into an upright position.
She swiped at her wet eyes with her sleeve and called out “What do you want?” without caring that she was being rude. She was the prime minister’s daughter, after all. If she demanded privacy, then these people had to give it to her.
“Anastacia? Can I come in?”
It was Juliet, speaking such flawless Belarusian that Stacie would have believed she was a native.
“What for?” she choked out.
“I just wanted to talk to you for a minute.”
“Fine. Whatever.” Stacie sniffled, wishing she had a tissue, but there was only one bathroom in the house and it was out in the hall.
The door creaked open and Juliet stepped inside the room. Worry flickered in her dark brown eyes when she noticed Stacie’s splotchy face, but she didn’t comment on it.
Stacie appreciated that. She also appreciated the way Juliet spoke to her like she was a grown-up and not a little girl you needed to talk down to. Most adults tended to do that, including Alisa Baronova, who treated Stacie like she was inferior just because she happened to be a teenager.
“Look, I’m not going to say all the usual bullshit about how everything will be all right and keep your chin up, and yada yada. I know being here sucks,” Juliet said bluntly. “I know you’re scared, and I know you probably can’t stand the sight of us.”
The woman wandered over to the bed and sat down beside her. “I won’t feed you any lines, because truth is, you should be scared. If Ethan and I hadn’t shown up, your father’
s assistant would have put a bullet in your head. And just because she’s dead doesn’t mean you’re out of danger.”
Stacie stared at the woman for a long moment before laughing. “You’re not very good at trying to make someone feel better.”
“I’m not trying to make you feel better. I’m just being completely honest with you. But with that said, I want you to know that I won’t let anyone get close enough to hurt you. And . . .” She shrugged. “If you want to talk, I’m a good listener. Well, only sometimes. I can’t sit still for too long, so lengthy conversations bore me after a while.”
Stacie laughed again. Despite the terrifying situation she’d found herself in, she actually really liked this woman. Juliet was so tough and cool, like the heroine of an action movie, and she was really funny, too. Most of the people in Stacie’s life didn’t have much of a sense of humor.
“So is there a particular reason for the tears?” Juliet asked gently. “Or is it just the culmination of all the scary things that have happened?”
“I am scared,” she admitted. “But that’s not why I was crying.”
The other woman slanted her head, waiting patiently.
“Today is my birthday.”
Juliet blinked. “It is?”
She nodded.
“How old are you turning? Sixteen?”
Another nod.
A beat of silence passed, broken by Juliet’s regretful sigh. “I’m sorry you have to spend your birthday here with us. That must suck.”
“Well, I guess it’s better than being alone.” Bitterness tickled her throat. “My dad hasn’t been home for my last six birthdays. He wasn’t going to be here for this one either, so it’s not like I’m missing out on anything important.”
“It must be tough, being the daughter of the prime minister.”
“It’s awful. I hate it. I hate him.”
“Nah, you don’t mean that.”
“I do! He doesn’t care about me at all.” Stacie’s face collapsed, the hot sting of tears making a reappearance. “All he does is work and go on trips and leave me at home with our housekeeper, Marta, and his million assistants.”