Her Only Desire

by Delilah Devlin

  He sat the plate beside hers, his chair as well, and then leaned back. “The fact that a table separated us gave you courage,” he murmured.

  “Now you want to intimidate me?” The quaver in her voice matched the trembling in her body.

  “No, I want to be close enough to you that I won’t miss anything.”

  Close enough that he couldn’t help but note how flushed her skin was or how her erect nipples pushed against the front of her thin bra. Pretending she didn’t care, she lifted her chin defiantly.

  Boone gave her a half smile and leaned toward her. “Indulge me?” he whispered. “I promise I won’t do anything that will embarrass you.”

  She met his steady gaze, her fearless pose unraveling because he was so close she felt the heat from his thigh right beside hers.

  “Tilly…close your eyes. I want to feed you.”

  She searched his expression, carefully neutral except for the slight curving of his mouth. He was teasing her. “This is silly. I feel silly.”

  “Indulge me. We’ll both enjoy the experience.”

  Huffing a breath, she closed her eyes. Not trusting him for a moment, but she’d let him play his game. Fact was, she enjoyed the intimacy of sitting so close to him. She liked the way he smelled: like cinnamon and male. Liked the heat emanating from his body.

  “Open your mouth.”

  She complied, opening like a baby bird waiting for a worm. At that thought, she wrinkled her nose. Then she tasted the metal bottom of a spoon on her tongue and an explosion of sweetness as she closed her mouth around the flan. She groaned in ecstasy.

  “Open.”

  She opened again and received a second spoonful of the sinfully delicious dessert—creamy, smooth, sweet like caramel.

  “Open.”

  This time, she didn’t hesitate. But a spoon didn’t enter her mouth. Instead, two fingers, tasting slightly salty, deposited a raspberry on her tongue. She shivered, fighting the urge to close her lips around his fingers as she had the spoonfuls of flan.

  A fingertip dragged across her tongue as it left her mouth. She bit into the berry, tart, sweet, and salty exploding on her taste buds.

  “If we were lovers,” he said beside her ear. “I’d take advantage of the fact you can’t anticipate my moves,” he whispered. “Open.”

  Without a thought, she did, and his finger daubed flan on her tongue. The taste was even better than before without the metallic aftertaste of the silver spoon.

  “I’d open that clasp and part your pretty dress. Open.”

  Again, his fingers entered her mouth, dropping another raspberry. Her breaths grew ragged. Her heart raced.

  “I’d thumb open the clasp of your bra and expose your pretty breasts. Open. No talking.”

  She was just about to ask how he knew her breasts were pretty. How had he known? The thought of cameras entered her mind and for the first time, they didn’t horrify her. They became part of his seduction.

  Flan, again, was delivered by two fingers.

  The urge was too strong. She latched her lips around them and sucked.

  His breath gusted against her cheek.

  Not as steady as before.

  She almost smiled.

  He withdrew his fingers. “Open.”

  She did. And this time, a hand cupped her cheek and tilted her head back. His lips touched hers, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. She could taste the flan on his tongue and she swallowed greedily, taking him even deeper inside her mouth. An arm settled on her shoulders, turning her slightly. The kiss deepened.

  Flan, wine, raspberries—none tasted quite as wicked as Boone Benoit’s mouth. His lips sealed hers. When he began to move, dragging her lips in slow circles, she was helpless to follow his lead, drugged by the sensual tug.

  When he drew back, she licked her lips and slowly opened her eyes.

  His blue eyes gleamed. “There’s pleasure in submission, Tilly.” He tapped her nose and drew in a deep breath. “You should go now.”

  She wanted to argue. But he’d made his point. Even the simple act of eating a tasty dessert could be filled with sensual pleasure. Her body’s response proved that.

  He dropped his arm and stood, helping her to her feet. Cupping her elbow, he led her back into the kitchen through the living room to the hallway. At the first door, he stopped. “I’m in here, should you need anything.”

  As she continued down the hallway, she couldn’t help the sway of her hips, aware that he still watched her. Her steps were light, her body awakened as never before.

  As she sought a nightgown from the clothing hanging in the closet, she closed the door for privacy, hoping his security concerns didn’t extend to her dressing room or bathroom. The thought of him watching her as she slept was still disturbing, but not for the same reasons she’d had before they’d shared that kiss.

  As if he’d sit in front of a monitor to watch her sleep. She really did need to keep this in perspective. Boone might find her a challenge, but for how long? Maybe he did think he needed her to help smooth his way in Bayou Vert, but time and money would do the same.

  The town was dying. Losing its young people to the city. In another generation, the town might not exist at all. Sad, given its long history. Bayou Vert had survived storms and its own pirate past, but it couldn’t fight progress. Small fishing operations were giving way to larger, better-equipped companies. Fishing and acting as guides for the odd hunting or fishing tourist were the only jobs left. If she didn’t have a brother who needed familiar surroundings to feel safe, she wouldn’t stay either.

  As she turned off the bedside lamp, she admitted to herself that Boone was her only hope. Her resentment was for the fact she didn’t have a choice. And yet she was excited in ways she’d never experienced before.

  A handsome, wealthy man wanted her. She’d have to keep her head free of the clouds, remember their disturbingly linked past, and hold true to who she was. More dangerous than their past was the secret she kept. Every day she walked in his world, the urge to tell him what she’d found grew stronger, because she was getting to know him, and feeling more and more empathy for the man. The closer she drew, she had no doubts the guilt would weigh heavier and heavier. She had the means to cast doubt on the town’s foregone conclusion that Boone was a murderer. If he ever found out what she withheld, how would he feel about her?

  * * *

  Moments after watching Tilly enter her bedroom, Boone entered the situation room, dragging off his tie.

  Serge turned from the computer screen he’d been reading. “Boss, is your head in the game?”

  Boone narrowed his eyes. “Are you talking about Ms. Floret?”

  “Just wondering. You don’t usually let your personal life interfere with work. Not sayin’ that’s not a good thing.”

  “Have we received another communication?” Boone rolled a chair beside Serge’s.

  “No, it’s been quiet. Alejandro thinks we might have someone on the inside. Makes sense. If they know we’re putting more sticks in their spokes, they might be thinking of ways to punish us. If this is the first of a concerted campaign, and they know where Black Spear’s assets are, they’ll want to teach us a lesson.”

  Boone’s stomach roiled. They’d been here before. Waiting for a deal that wasn’t going to happen because the kidnappers wanted to make a big splash, reinforcing a brutal reputation for the lengths they would go to ensure the biggest payoffs.

  And this cartel was particularly frightening. Composed of ex–Mexican Army commandoes, they had skills only his own men could rival.

  Yes, he’d been here before. Images of headless bodies left in front of a mosque in Afghanistan made his body tight.

  “It’s not Kabul, Boone.”

  “These bastards are studying terrorists’ playbooks. It could happen. You see what they do to their own people when they cross them. We need to find these guys. If there is someone on the inside helping them, it’s our fault for not finding the link. I want more a
ssets on this.”

  “How long are we staying here?”

  Boone raked a hand through his hair. “Alejandro’s perfectly capable of running this op.”

  Serge gave him a one-sided smile. “Hard being the big kahuna. But you have to be willing to let go of the details. Maybe now wasn’t the best time to return to the ole hometown. It’s—”

  “Distracting. I know.”

  “So’s she.” Serge arched a dark brow. “Enjoy your dessert?”

  “Didn’t touch mine.”

  “Wasn’t talking about the flan.”

  Boone grunted, annoyed his friend had witnessed so much.

  “She’s not into the scene. You sure you want to lead her there?”

  Boone aimed a deadly glare at his friend. “I could just tell you to mind your own damn business.”

  “I have your back. Always will.” Serge shook his head. “But she’s not part of your revenge. You drag her through it, she might get hurt. You like to think you’re always on target. That you don’t feel. But she’s getting to you.”

  The memory of Tilly, opening her mouth so obediently, flashed through his mind. Turning her reluctance to eager enjoyment had given him an erotic thrill he hadn’t experienced in a long, long time. He could still feel the moist pressure of her lips closing around his fingers. “Maybe it’s time I let someone get to me.”

  Serge glanced back at the monitor. “Thinking about settling down?”

  Boone grunted again. “Fuck, I don’t know. But when I look at her, I don’t see Celeste. Her murder has haunted me for so long, you’d think that’s all I’d be thinking about when I look at Tilly. Instead, I’m racking my brain for ways to seduce her. To please her.”

  Serge chuckled. “If you want, I’ll butt out.”

  “No, I need you to be my conscience. Sometimes, when I want something, I don’t know when to stop.”

  Serge’s expression sharpened, and he held up his finger to alert Boone that he was receiving news. He tapped his Bluetooth. “No wire. A physical drop?”

  His gaze went to Boone, who shook his head. Too many things could go wrong, but then again, they might find a way to tag the cash and follow it back to the enemy. Up to this point, the kidnappers had shown remarkable sophistication. They were due to make a mistake. “No more than a quarter of the total payout,” he said.

  Serge relayed their agreement to Alejandro, who was manning the burn phone from the Tex-Oil building. When he removed the phone from his ear, he raised a brow. “Don’t guess anyone’s getting any sleep tonight. The drop’s happening at three a.m.”

  “Peterson Group has the cash?”

  “Alejandro had them primed for the possibility. He figured since we changed the amount, the Omegas were obligated to make the delivery harder for us.” Serge pushed up from the desk. “I’m heading over there. How ’bout you?”

  Boone nodded. “I won’t sleep anyway.” Another kind of excitement stirred in his blood. Adrenaline. Something he’d gotten addicted to from his years in the service, something he desperately missed after he’d concentrated on the managerial aspects of his business. “Radio Bear to ready three cars.”

  They never left the compound without ensuring necessary firepower. But it was also designed to confuse anyone watching as to which vehicle he might be inside.

  Serge slipped the phone over his ear and relayed the message, then called for a replacement to monitor the cameras at the house. Tilly and his staff would remain safe within these walls while they were gone. Then they left the house through the garage door.

  Bear met them at the cars. Not only was he Boone’s personal pilot, he was also his preferred driver, having undergone extensive training in defensive driving tactics. Bear had earned his nickname due to his burly, rugged appearance. Although Boone had offered him positions with more authority, even his own region to manage, Bear refused, preferring to “keep it personal.”

  Boone rewarded his loyalty with a generous salary and certain perks, including his own membership at The Platform.

  Bear took the Glock from his holster and handed it to Boone.

  Boone made a quick inspection of the half-dozen men who’d be accompanying them on their run to the Tex-Oil offices. All were dressed in black military cargo pants, long-sleeved uniform shirts, and Kevlar vests. Each man carried a military assault weapon—AK-47 or M4.

  Boone lifted the back hatch of the Esplanade and reached inside for a vest, and then gave the signal to roll out. The men loaded into the vehicles, with Boone seated beside Bear in the front. When Boone became part of a mission, he no longer wanted to be the one protected. Like his brothers in action, he was just another soldier prepared to enter the fray to save a few of his own.

  Chapter Eight

  The next morning, Tilly bathed and dressed, making use of the cosmetics and toiletries that somehow reflected the exact items she used at home, down to her brand of perfume. The thought of some burly ex-military buddy of Boone’s pawing through her bathroom to make a list of her needs was unsettling.

  Remembering the fact her every move might be watched, she wrapped a towel around her body before heading to the closet. Her own blue sundress hung there, newly washed and pressed. Her fingers fanned the silky confections in a rainbow of colors beside it, but since she was suffering a major case of morning-after regrets, she firmly pushed them down the rack and donned her simple blue dress.

  Tilly was determined to keep her feet firmly on the ground. No matter how hard Boone worked to turn her head, she’d resist. His way led to heartache, and she’d had enough sorrow in her life.

  At least that’s what she told herself as she followed her growling stomach to the kitchen. The house was dead silent. She poked her head into the living room, but found no Boone or Beatrice lurking inside, so she skimmed through to the kitchen, grateful for a little alone time to settle her jumbled emotions and shore up her determination to keep Boone at a distance.

  Fixing herself a breakfast of leftover tortillas, which she nuked in the microwave, and slices of avocado, lightly salted, she poured fresh orange juice and took her plate outside to the patio.

  With sunlight only starting to creep over the edge of the walled patio, the heat was pleasant rather than oppressive, the air filled with the fragrance of roses. She gobbled up her simple tacos and rested on a chaise, enjoying the sight of the mountains. Especially without the distraction of Boone or any of his minions to interrupt.

  She hadn’t rested long when in the distance she heard the roar of engines. She closed her eyes, deciding to ignore the sounds. But tires bit gravel, engines revved. Curiosity got the better of her, and she swung her legs to the ground. Letting herself out the garden gate, she circled the house to the garage.

  The doors were open. Three black vehicles, likely the same that had comprised the caravan from the airport, were parked inside. Large men dressed in black and bearing a frightening array of weaponry spilled from the doors.

  She held back, hiding behind the corner of the building to watch, fascinated to find Boone among them. He was every bit as built as the soldiers around him, every bit as fierce. And apparently vulnerable, since he needed the extra protection. The thought of him facing dangers that required this much firepower and security made her a little weak at the knees. At the same time as she feared for him, arousal stirred. Odd, but the thought he could hold his own among men like these turned her on. As did his expression. His features were set in hard, determined lines. Velcro scratched as he opened his armored vest and dropped it into the back of the vehicle.

  One of the men spun on his heel, raised his weapon, and pointed it in her direction. The rest reacted, crouching, rifles and handguns rising.

  Her breath stilling, Tilly raised her hands and waved them as she stepped around the corner. “Sorry to alarm you.���

  Boone’s expression didn’t change.

  Was he irritated to find her spying? She walked toward the group as weapons lowered. Where she found the courage to
approach such a well-armed assembly of men, she didn’t know. But she refused to betray the fact butterflies flitted in her belly and her pulse thudded hard in her ears.

  “Looks like you’ve been busy,” she said as she drew closer.

  Eyes narrowing, Boone didn’t crack a smile. His arms crossed his chest. “I should have laid down some more ground rules. Wandering outside alone isn’t safe.”

  “There wasn’t anyone around. I took advantage of it.” She pressed her lips together and dropped her gaze to her toes, heat filling her cheeks.

  Boone’s breath eased out in slow exhale. “We were longer than I expected.”

  She peeked up from beneath her lashes. “I had no idea you were so hands-on with the operations.”

  One corner of his firm mouth twitched.

  A flush at her word choice heated her cheeks. “It was the ‘hands-on’ part, right?” she whispered.

  He didn’t answer, instead sweeping her body with a hard gaze. “You’re not happy with the clothing I provided?”

  “Oh, I love it, but I haven’t earned it,” she said, frowning at her deplorable choice of words.

  He grunted. “Seeing as you’re ready, we’ll leave now.”

  “Going home?” she asked, raising her head.

  Ice-chip eyes narrowed. “Disappointed we’re leaving so soon?”

  Tilly tipped up her chin. “Not at all. I’m not used to lazing poolside. I’d just as soon get started at the new job.”

  Boone opened the door to the backseat of the Esplanade, indicating with a sweep of his hand that she should slide inside.

  “My purse?”

  Serge tapped his Bluetooth and asked Marta to retrieve her purse from her room.

  She stared at Serge. “When do I get one of those?”

  “Do you really want to be wired in,” Boone murmured, shockingly close to her ear, “at my beck and call?”

  Tilly wrinkled her nose. “Guess I can wait.” She slid into the backseat, surprised when he slid in beside her.