“Where’s Manny?” she asked Ryan at one point.
He’d wondered that himself. Manny shouldn’t have been far behind him, but he hadn’t seen him. Worry nudged him in the gut. “I don’t know.” He shrugged, trying to sound casual. “Thought he’d be here by now.”
Sera and Ryan separated for periods of time, each of them recording whatever incriminating conversations they could, while the party got wilder, louder and lewder. The girls who’d shown skin to win in the wet T-shirt contest elected to keep their shirts off, partying topless, and some of the bikers were not only enjoying the show but were pulling the girls onto their laps and burying their faces between bare tits. Then two of the girls climbed up onto a table and danced. At the hoots of encouragement, they began an impromptu striptease, right down to nothing.
Ryan was finally ready to call it a night. It had been a long day of fresh air, hot, desert sunshine and a lot of beer, not to mention sex, drugs and rock and roll.
He steered Sera out of the bar with an arm around her waist, the feel of her slim, muscled body against his sending a reviving jolt through him. So much for fatigue. But they had to talk. Inside the room, Ryan closed and locked the door. They both switched off their recording devices, then he turned to her. “You wanna tell me what the fuck you were doing down there?”
She stood there, staring back at him. “What are you talking about?”
Her blue eyes shone like gems, her long lashes starbursts around them. She rubbed her bare upper arms.
“And what the hell is that tat?” he snarled, moving closer and grabbing one arm. He twisted it to reveal the image of St. Michael. “Why would you get that inked on your arm for the whole world to see, for Chrissake? You’re an undercover agent! You might as well have ‘cop’ tattooed across your forehead!”
She yanked her arm away from him and her strength momentarily surprised him. “First of all, it’s not a real tat. It’s one of those new semi-permanent ones. Cost a freakin’ fortune, but it’ll wear off in a couple of months.”
He scowled.
“Second, I know it’s St. Michael, but nobody else is going to recognize it as the patron saint of cops.”
“You don’t think?” He frowned at her. “You better have a good story ready if anyone asks.”
“I just liked the way it looks. That’s all.”
He rolled his eyes. “Riiiiight. Okay. So back to the joint you smoked earlier.”
“I didn’t smoke that joint! Are you insane?” Her voice rose. “Do you really think I’m that stupid?”
He took a mental step back.
“I don’t think you’re stupid,” he said carefully. “I just think you’re inexperienced and you might not know—”
“Oh, for the sweet love of god!” She raised both her hands to her hair, threaded through the strands and yanked. She closed her eyes and swallowed a scream. “I’m sick of you saying that!”
“Sssh.” He tipped his head to indicate that the walls were likely thin between rooms.
She ground her teeth. “I know I’m inexperienced but give me some credit here!” She kept her voice low. “I’m not an idiot. I know I can’t do drugs. I totally faked smoking it. Nobody noticed.”
The tension vibrating in her body, the flush of anger in her cheeks and the spark in her eyes had the unintentional effect of turning him on. Hard. Fast.
His body roared to life like the engine of his Harley, full throttle. His jeans became uncomfortably tight and he turned away from her before she noticed. He stood at the dresser, clenched his jaw as he stared at the dark wood, hotel pamphlets stacked in a holder on one corner.
“You’re not my boss, you know,” she continued. “We’re partners.”
“You have no experience.”
“We’re still partners. I may be inexperienced, but we’re equals and you don’t get to mack on me for nothing. We can’t work together if you think that little of me,” she said, sounding calmer. “Seriously, Ryan.”
“You can’t bail now.”
Silence. He wanted to turn and look at her, to try to read the expression on her face, in her eyes. But his hard-on pulsed uncomfortably. Then he heard her move, felt her warmth and she grabbed hold of his arm and yanked him around to face her.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you, at least,” she ground out. She was so close to him, if she shifted an inch forward she was going to know how happy he was to see her. He kept his eyes on her face, hoping hers would stay there too. “Don’t you want to know what I got tonight?”
He stared at her mouth, the way it moved when she formed the words, the sexy lift of the corners, the touch of her tongue on her bottom lip. He felt as if he were drowning, a roaring in his ears, a helpless, sinking feeling.
He realized she was waiting for him to say something and he had no idea what she’d just asked him. Oh man. He was over his head, sinking fast. Her eyes darkened then, her lips parted invitingly and her breath quickened.
“Fuck,” he muttered, fisting a handful of her hair and yanking her against him. She gasped, and he knew his erection pressed into her softness. “Let’s just get this over with.”
He held her head in place by her hair and lowered his mouth to hers, covering hers in a scorching, mind-numbing kiss.
Shock and arousal curled her toes. Need and lust slammed into her.
This was a monumentally bad idea, but the sweetness of Ryan’s mouth on hers, the pleasure-pain of his hand pulling her hair, weakened her legs, weakened her resolve. It was true–resistance was futile.
She opened her mouth and kissed him back. His tongue licked over her mouth and she moaned. He tasted yeasty-sweet like beer, his tongue hot and wet and invading. She clung to his wide shoulders as he bent her backward, kissing her with driving, eating kisses.
Electricity sizzled down her body. He thrust a big thigh between hers and she arched her pelvis into him, needing that pressure there, right there…oh sweet, sweet baby Jesus. She pressed her aching breasts to his hard chest, grabbed hold of his ponytail and yanked on his hair like he was on hers.
“Fuck,” he gasped, nipping her bottom lip then kissing her again. She found the elastic that held his hair, tugged it off so his hair fell loose, and slid her hands into it. Silky and cool, the strands tangled around her fingers.
They ground against each other, mouths, chests, groins. She was almost riding his thigh, higher, harder, desperate, aching with a sharp need. “Oh god,” she gasped, letting her head fall back as he tugged harder at her hair, pulling her head back, exposing her throat to his hot mouth. He kissed, sucked, licked his way down to her collarbone exposed by the low, round neck of her tank top. One hand disentangled from her hair and covered a breast, squeezing, and she cried out in pleasure. Flames licked at her body as lust flared like an inferno inside her.
“Tell me it’s just an act,” he muttered against her throat, his words vibrating against her skin.
She moaned again, unable to deny the very real hunger that mounted inside her, pushing her harder against him, rolling her pelvis against his hard thigh.
“It’s not an act,” she whispered. “It’s not. But…”
“I know. God, I know.” The husky low tone of his voice stroked over like a touch, igniting more flames, singeing every nerve ending.
“We shouldn’t…”
“I know.” His hand slid under the tank top to cup her breast over her bra and she swelled into his palm, achy, needy. She wrenched away from him, yanked the top over her head and stood there in her black lace bra, chest heaving.
He pulled the lacy cups of her bra down to reveal her nipples, and the cool air and his hot gaze on them puckered them into tight, tingling points. She wanted his mouth there and whimpered, closing her eyes. Then she felt it–warm, wet, sucking as he took her in, first one tight nipple then the other, sending flames shooting through her from nipple to between her legs as hot, liquid want flowed in her pussy in a desperate ache.
She was so close to coming, grinding herself agai
nst him, seeking that pinnacle of ecstasy, almost there…and a pounding on the door echoed the rhythm of her heartbeat in her ears. At first she ignored it, arching her back so he could take her breasts again, but he muttered, “Shit.”
And he stepped away from her. Blinking, she found her balance as he released the hold he had on her. She raised a shaky hand to shove the tangled mop of her hair back off her face. She stared at him wordlessly, mind a blank. What…?
“Whoever it is, I’ll kill them,” Ryan muttered, raking his own hair back. Long and loose, it brushed his shoulders, and he looked so insanely dangerous and sexy, Sera’s legs almost buckled again.
Struggling for air, she yanked her bra in place and her top back as Ryan strode to the door. There, he paused, glanced back at her to make sure she was decent, and she gave him a short nod as he set his eye to the peephole. He groaned, then released the chain and yanked open the door.
Manny strode in, bald head and both earrings gleaming in the faint lamp light.
Sera quivered from head to toe, pressed her lips together. Manny seemed oblivious.
“What the hell do you want?” Ryan growled rudely.
“I don’t have a room.” Manny threw himself down into an armchair.
“What?” Ryan stared at him, a hand to the back of his head. Sera’s eyes dropped to his jeans, to the obvious bulge, and she pressed her own thighs together. She’d been so close to coming, if she squeezed hard enough she could probably send herself over. She laid a hand on her stomach and struggled for control.
“I don’t have a room, man. Gonna have to bunk here tonight.”
Ryan lifted his eyes and met Sera’s.
She could only stare back at him, mesmerized by the heat and lust she saw there, knowing it reflected her own. She swayed a bit, reached behind her for the dresser to steady herself. She took in a long, deep breath.
It was just as well. They’d been on their way to having hot, animal sex and that would be such a bad idea. God, words couldn’t even express how epically inappropriate that would be. Except…like Ryan had said…maybe they just needed to get it over with.
Tension was a part of their jobs. Every minute, with violence and sex surrounding them, they were on edge, putting on an act, hyperaware of everything going on around them. It was only natural that it would get to them, and maybe they did just need to take the edge off, to let loose with a screaming, toe-curling orgasm. Or two.
Or not. What was she thinking? Sex wasn’t going to relieve any tension, it would just create more. Just what they didn’t need.
Manny slumped in his seat and Ryan stood there looking hot as hell, and frustrated. “Isn’t there another room?” he demanded.
“Nah. Hotel’s booked. I had engine trouble on the way here. Don’t even ask.” His scowl put a halt to questions about that topic. “So I got here late and they fucking gave my room away.” He blew out a breath. “Don’t worry. I can sleep in the chair. You two…” For the first time he appeared to notice the one bed in the room. “Uh…you two…can take the…uh…bed.”
His eyes flicked back and forth between them and awareness flared. “Oh…uh…”
Ryan closed his eyes and shook his head. “Fine. No problem. You take the goddamn chair.”
“Uh…” Manny looked at the carpet. “I could…uh…”
“Never mind.” Sera spoke, stepped forward, hoping her top looked decent. “We all need a good night’s sleep. There are lots of pillows.” She jerked her chin at the bed. “You take the spread and a pillow and sleep on the floor, Manny. You can’t get a good night’s sleep in the chair.”
He nodded, heaved his big body out of the chair, and between the three of them they created a makeshift bed on the floor in the corner. Sera retreated into the bathroom, carefully closing the door tightly behind her. She sank down onto the toilet and buried her face in her hands.
Dear lord, she’d been so close to coming all over Ryan’s leg and he hadn’t seemed to mind one bit, encouraging her, sucking at her nipples until she was ready to go up in flames. And she still had to share a bed with him, but now…there was someone else in the room with them.
Good. Or bad. She lifted her head, stared at her reflection in the mirror that covered one wall. Good heavens. Her hair tangled in a dark cloud around her face, mascara smudged beneath her eyes and her swollen lips all combined to give her a sexy, trashy look. She licked her lips. Swallowed. Her breasts ached, nipples tingled and her pussy clenched hard, drawing up. She pressed her hands to her breasts. She needed an orgasm like she needed oxygen.
She washed her face, body still quivery with need, brushed the tangles out of her hair and changed into the pajamas she’d packed. Long pants in striped candy colors with a drawstring waist and a pink T-shirt. They’d seemed safe enough, but now she knew a suit of armor wasn’t enough to keep her safe from Ryan. Or rather, to keep her safe from her own lustful hunger. Or maybe both. Because his hunger had certainly seemed to match her own, degree for burning hot degree.
She emerged from the bathroom and left the light on. “Next.”
Ryan passed her, eyes snagging hers and holding them, still hot. She melted into her pajama pants and slid under the covers of the bed in a puddle of trembling, simmering desire.
She heard Manny’s breathing across the room, the water running in the bathroom. Then light sliced the darkness as Ryan opened the door. He turned out the light, and in the inky darkness she felt the bed shift as Ryan climbed in.
They lay there, side by side, not touching, Sera staring up into the obscurity, still quivering with need. Then Ryan shifted under the covers, turned on his side and laid his hand on her stomach. The muscles there leaped at his touch and heat radiated from his palm over her body. She tried to push him away, but his mouth, right at her ear, whispered, “Don’t.”
She trembled, silent, knowing in the heavy quiet Manny could hear everything– even a whisper. Ryan’s hand slipped under the T-shirt to bare skin, caressing her stomach. She shivered. His breath was a warm rasp in her ear. Then his fingers dipped lower, under the drawstring of her loose pants, tickled through the patch of curls above her mound, probed between her thighs.
She tightened her thigh muscles on his hand, and she felt his head move on the pillow beside hers as if he was shaking his head no. “Open,” he breathed.
Sweet god in heaven. She needed to be touched there so bad it hurt. She ached with the need to orgasm. And her thighs parted. Ryan’s fingers stroked through sensitive, swollen folds, finding her wetness, sliding easily through the silky moisture. She trembled more, and when he brushed over her clit, she jumped at the jolt of sensation. She swallowed a noise.
He dipped slowly into her liquid center, then back up to her clit, brushing over the hard nub, sending exquisite sensations shimmering down her legs. Weakened, they fell apart even farther, giving him wicked access to her most intimate region. He stroked and rubbed, sensation building, tightening. Sera squeezed her eyes closed, arched her neck, lifted her pelvis into his hand. Her breathing quickened, her lungs tightened, and she struggled to keep quiet, her heart racing. Her hands fisted in the sheet, and then pleasure streaked from Ryan’s fingers to every nerve ending, exploding in tiny bursts of fiery sensation.
She grabbed his arm, his strong forearm and wrist, and held on until the pulsating slowed and stopped, his hand pressed over her pussy, absorbing the waves of her orgasm. God, she wanted to cry out, noises backing up in her throat, almost choking her. She turned her face toward him, and pressed it into the side of his neck, all warm and delicious smelling. She inhaled long, slow and quiet, knowing Manny probably had heard every quickened breath, every swallowed gasp.
Ryan drew his hand back up to her abdomen and rested it there, warm and damp and heavy. When her breathing had slowed to more normal, he slid his arm across her stomach, curled his fingers around her waist and pulled her closer into his body. Heat poured off him, and she felt his heart pounding too.
“Sleep.” The whispered
word teased her ear, and she relaxed against him, knowing she shouldn’t, but drowsy languor stole over her, softening muscles and bones.
Chapter Eight
“I got tons of good surveillance stuff,” Sera said, slicing through her room-service muffin the next morning. “I’m going to get Zocco to introduce me to Casas, and Carly thinks I can offer to sell some of his angel sugar in L.A. They’ll want their cut–they’ll likely be only too happy to have one more addict offering to sell the stuff, knowing I’ll be using it myself and needing to support the habit. That stuff is so highly addictive they’re going to know I’m addicted soon.”
Ryan frowned.
“So I’m one step closer to finding out if he’s the one running the lab. And wait till you hear all the stuff I got,” she continued excitedly. “What were you doing all night?”
“Vince wants me to do some deliveries for him. Starting next week. Along with my motorcycle parts.”
She gazed wide-eyed at Ryan across the small table. “Really? Oh wow! That’s amazing.”
“Yeah. Unbelievable, actually.”
She grinned. “So we both did good.”
“Yeah. Sounds like.” But he still scowled. She wanted to roll her eyes at him.
“Good work, guys,” Manny said. “What’s up for today?”
“I want to find Sam Cogan,” Ryan said. He told them about the conversation with Vince and A.J. “I want to know what they wanted him to do.”
Manny frowned. “That doesn’t sound like a good idea. What if someone sees you talking to him?”
Ryan took a bite of his toast. “I’ll play it by ear.” He shrugged. “If I can find the guy and get him alone, fine. I’ll judge if it’s safe to talk to him or not.”
Sera glanced between him and Manny and nibbled her bottom lip. It sounded risky. Ryan seemed almost pleased by that. And dammit, she could relate. Risk equaled adrenaline, and the bigger the risk, the bigger the high.
“Okay,” she said. “I’m going to meet Casas today. That’s my main goal.”
“Great.” Ryan glanced at his watch. “Everyone else will be sleeping for hours. Maybe I can find out if Cogan is staying here at the hotel.”
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