“You are so damn beautiful,” he said, the low, husky timbre of his voice reaching between her legs and making her quiver.
Slowly he bent down and drew her right nipple into his mouth. She gasped. Holding her gaze, he stroked her with his tongue, luscious, velvety strokes that made her arch backward and close her eyes on a deep, shuddering moan. She felt the sensuous pull of his mouth everywhere, filling her loins with a delicious ache. She caught his head, holding him to her, anchoring herself as the wondrous sensations swept through her.
As he kissed his way to her other breast, every nerve ending in her body clamored for release. She whimpered something, maybe his name, and he lifted his head and claimed her mouth, plunging his tongue inside and stroking deep. She sucked greedily on his tongue, and as they played tonsil hockey, he cupped her breasts in his hands and thumbed her wet, sensitized nipples in a manner designed to drive her crazy. She writhed in his lap, grinding against his erection, and he inhaled sharply.
He reached down and cupped her buttocks, squeezing and kneading her round cheeks as he urged her closer. They humped each other, hard, the friction of their movements making her clitoris throb.
With a low, savage oath, Damien lifted her off his lap and set her on her feet, then quickly went to work removing her jeans. When he saw that she wore no panties, he swore again, hoarsely.
No sooner had she kicked her jeans out of the way than he was lifting her again, depositing her on the small table. She shoved the map out of the way and sent it sailing to the floor. Damien grabbed her thighs and spread them wide to accommodate the breadth of his shoulders as he knelt between her legs.
Watching her face, he pressed a featherlight kiss to one knee, then the other. Althea shivered, anticipation already firing her blood. He took her legs and hooked them over his shoulders. And then slowly, sensually, he began kissing his way up her inner thighs, leaving a path of scorched nerve endings. A ball of liquid heat coiled inside her, tighter and tighter, until she thought she would explode. She licked her lips and leaned back on her elbows.
“So pretty,” Damien whispered reverently, his gaze fastened on the slick, swollen folds of her sex beneath a thatch of soft dark curls. He lifted his smoldering eyes to hers. “So damn pretty.”
It was one of the most erotic things she’d ever experienced, their gazes locked as he slowly worked his way toward the feminine core of her. It was sensory overload. The brush of his soft lips, the whisper of his breath, the gentle scrape of his stubbled jaw. Her pulse pounded. Her senses were electrified.
At the first touch of his mouth on her sex, she cried out brokenly and flung back her head. His tongue circled her labia, teasing and tormenting. She moaned and rocked her hips as he licked, nibbled, and sucked her clitoris. She closed her eyes and tried to control the trembling that racked her body, but the pleasure was too much. She couldn’t take much more.
And then he thrust his tongue deep inside her—and her hips bucked off the table as she came with a loud, mewling cry. He gripped her butt tightly, lapping at her like a hungry tomcat devouring a bowl of cream. Amazingly, she felt another orgasm building in her loins.
But before it broke free, Damien pulled back from her and impatiently tugged his shirt off, casting it aside. Althea rose up on her elbows to watch as he unsnapped his jeans and slid his zipper down over his thick, jutting erection. He retrieved a condom from his wallet and quickly sheathed himself.
Althea’s belly quivered with arousal at the sight of his dark, powerful body. She was already reaching for him as he came back to her, sweeping her up and carrying her over to the sofa. She wrapped her legs around his hips, so that by the time he sat down on the edge, the head of his penis was already nudging her slick opening.
Their gazes locked as he thrust into her with one long, erotically painful stroke that made her cry out sharply. He made a harsh sound deep in his throat, and his arms banded around her with steely strength. She clutched his big shoulders, her nails digging into the hard pad of muscle. His hands stroked down her back to her buttocks and he lifted her, sliding her back down his engorged length slowly, inch by inch. She shuddered, her thighs tightening around him, her ankles locking behind his broad back. As he began thrusting into her, her heart hammered in her chest. A mind-numbing pleasure coursed through her veins, unlike anything she’d ever known before meeting this man.
She stared into his face, so brutally handsome it took her breath away. His dark eyes glittered, fierce with arousal and possessiveness. In that moment he owned her. Her mind, body, and soul belonged to him, and he knew it.
He leaned forward, capturing her lips in a rough, marauding kiss that left her breathless and gasping. She whimpered as his thrusts intensified, making her breasts bounce as he plunged in and out of her, harder, faster, taking them higher and higher. Soon the room was filled with their guttural moans and the wet, slapping sounds of their bodies.
Her thighs were taut and shaking, and her stomach muscles clenched as an exquisite pressure built inside her, almost frightening in its intensity. A moment later she sobbed Damien’s name as her orgasm gripped her, gripped him, and they came together in a hot, violent rush.
They clutched each other tightly, trembling and panting for breath, a slick coat of sweat sealing their bodies together.
After a few minutes, Damien slowly withdrew from her and brushed a tendril of hair off her damp, flushed face. “I love to watch your face when you come,” he whispered. “You blush so hard. It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.”
Althea felt another blush steal across her cheeks, and he laughed, low and husky. Her lips curved. She couldn’t even vocalize a response. She felt weak, spent. Thoroughly satiated.
Damien leaned back against the sofa and cradled her protectively in his arms. She clung to his neck, feeling his strong, galloping heartbeat against her own as the perspiration cooled on their skin. He kissed her forehead and stroked her hair in a way that filled her heart with tenderness. She sighed softly, content to lie against him, cuddled and protected, surrounded by his male heat.
They sat in silence for a while and listened to the rain outside, lashing against the windows. In that timeless moment, nothing else existed. Not their jobs, the frustrating case, or the world beyond this room. There was nothing but the two of them, cocooned in their own private, sensual haven.
What have you gotten yourself into, Althea?
More than I bargained for.
She had returned home to bury the ghosts of the past and reclaim her life. At no time had she factored romance into the equation. Meeting Damien Wade at the club had changed all that. By sleeping with him that night, she’d set a course in motion that could not be altered. No matter how hard she tried—and God knows she’d tried—the chemistry between them, the connection they shared, was too powerful to resist.
She was falling in love with him.
And the more she fought her feelings, the harder she fell.
She’d tried talking herself out of it by constantly reminding herself of her rule against dating colleagues. When that didn’t work, she tried focusing on his flaws. He was too damn bossy, too alpha male. They’d butt heads all the time. And his stubborn insistence upon opening doors for her and holding out her chair would drive her crazy, not to mention his reckless driving.
She’d run the gamut of reasons why she shouldn’t fall for Damien. But nothing worked. For every perceived flaw, she could come up with a number of different things she adored about him. Like the way he made her feel with one look, one touch, one smile meant just for her. Or the way he was with his daughter, who had him wrapped around her little finger. She adored his sense of humor, which balanced his fierce intensity. And, yes, damn it, she adored him for being so chivalrous, so protective of her, that he’d even taken the time to open the car door for her before getting himself out of the driving rain.
“Hey,” Damien murmured suddenly, placing his finger beneath her chin and tilting her face up to meet his laz
y, speculative gaze. “You falling asleep?”
Althea shook her head. “I was just thinking.”
“About what?”
No way was she pouring out her heart to him!
She smiled, her flesh tingling as he idly ran his finger up and down her arm. “I was just thinking about how cozy this room is, how comfy that bed looks.”
“Yeah? That’s funny, ’cause I’ve been thinking about that bed, too. Wanna know what I’ve been thinking about doing to you in it?”
The low, husky intimacy in his voice made her shiver. She swallowed and nodded, staring at him.
He gave her a smoldering look. “Better yet, why don’t I show you?”
Althea trembled with anticipation as he stood with her in his arms and strode purposefully across the room. They tumbled across the queen-size bed, accidentally knocking the lamp to the floor and plunging the room into darkness as their hungry mouths and bodies merged.
Hours later, Damien was awakened by a distant rumble of thunder outside the window. The storm had spent itself, much as he and Althea had done.
His mouth curved in a lazy smile at the thought, and he angled his head to gaze down at her in the shadowy darkness. She lay snuggled against him, her soft, deep breaths fanning his throat, her long, silky leg draped across his thighs.
Memories of last night returned to him.
Althea drove him crazy with lust, made him lose control of himself. Every time they came together he was like an animal with her, heeding only his primal instincts to mate, to conquer. After days of being deprived of her, he’d nearly been too ravenous to worry about using protection, something he’d sworn he would never do again after he got Angelique pregnant.
And now as he reflected upon their night of unbridled sex, he found himself imagining Althea with child. His child. Maybe a boy who would look just like him, just as his brothers’ sons looked like their fathers, courtesy of those dominant Wade genes. Or maybe a little girl with her mother’s bewitching eyes and breathtaking beauty. A little sister for India, one she would cuddle and fuss over. He thought about Althea seated at his breakfast table, smiling and giving his daughter her undivided attention as India animatedly bounced from one subject to the next. He’d been struck by how right, how perfect it felt to have Althea there with them.
Just reliving the cozy family scene made his chest swell with longing, and he leaned down and kissed the top of Althea’s head.
In a few hours it would be daylight, and they would get up and go about the business of searching for a missing teenager who never should have been taken from her family in the first place. In a few hours, he and Althea would get up and resume their search for an unknown predator, hoping for a clue that would lead them to his door.
But until then, Damien just wanted to lay there, basking in Althea’s addictive warmth, her scent. Her essence.
And then she shifted in her sleep, pressing her lush breasts against his chest, burrowing her thigh between his legs.
And just like that he was hard and aching for her.
She mumbled drowsily as he moved, rolling her gently onto her back. Propping himself on one elbow, he leaned down and kissed her gently, lingeringly. She sighed, a soft, dreamy smile curving her lips. Her nipples puckered tight. He lowered his head, closed his mouth around one dark nipple, and suckled. She shivered, a broken moan escaping her parted lips.
He reached between their bodies and touched her. She was already wet and ready for him. His erection throbbed. He cupped her, his fingers spreading her slick wetness over the soft, swollen folds of her sex. She groaned and arched into his hand, opening her thighs wider.
And he lost it.
He grabbed a condom from his wallet on the nightstand and covered himself, then moved on top of Althea and settled between her legs. Telling himself to go easy, not to ravage her, he slowly guided his throbbing penis inside her. She gave a low, throaty moan. He had to clench his teeth against the pleasure of her body stretching around him, her wet, silky heat enveloping him, her clenching muscles pulling at him.
Her lashes fluttered, and her dark, sultry eyes opened and fastened on his face.
His heart contracted. Blood thundered through his veins. Pushing forward, he sank into her until they were fully joined, his whole length buried deep inside her. Her breath left her in a slow hiss. Her eyes went smoky with desire.
He levered himself up on his arms, withdrew almost to the tip, and drove hard into her again. She cried out hoarsely, throwing back her head. Her thighs clamped around him, settling higher on his waist as she opened herself wider to him. He hammered into her, his gaze intent on her face, his jaw clenched, his muscles sweating and quivering.
He tried to order himself to slow down, but he couldn’t. He felt primitive, possessive. He couldn’t get enough of her. In a near frenzy he thrust into her, reaching deeper with every stroke, voracious in his hunger.
Her firm, luscious breasts bounced up and down from his thrusts. The warm, musky scent of her arousal mingled with his was a heady, potent aphrodisiac that went straight to his head. He felt cocooned in eroticism and heat and something more, something he’d never experienced with any other woman.
And he knew, in that moment, that he’d fallen in love with Althea.
Shaken by the revelation, he watched as she stared up at him, her cheeks flushed, her dark eyes slitting in a way that told him she was on the verge of climaxing. He kept his thrusts steady, all his focus now on giving her the best damn orgasm of her life. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, her nails scoring his back, her breath coming in rapid, shallow pants. He felt her body quivering, straining toward release.
“Let go, sweetheart,” he whispered huskily. “Let go for me.”
Her neck arched, her body stiffened, and her muscles pulsed and contracted around him as she came, sobbing his name over and over again.
Moments later Damien shuddered and shouted hoarsely with the force of his own powerful release. He emptied himself into her, his hips pumping until he was milked dry, until the violent spasms gradually tapered off.
Then, feeling drained and replete, he lowered himself onto the bed, gathering Althea close. She made a soft little sighing noise and burrowed her face against his chest, mumbling sleepily, “Love you.”
Damien froze, lifting his head to stare down at her with a look of incredulity. Did she just say what I thought she said?
But Althea’s eyes had closed, her body had grown still, and her breathing was deep and even. She had already fallen back asleep!
Chuckling silently, Damien brushed his lips across her forehead and pulled her tightly into his arms, overcome with tenderness and joy.
“I love you, too,” he whispered.
And one way or another, I’m going to make you mine.
Chapter 27
Washington, D. C.
Thursday, October 9
Day 7
Courtney Reese couldn’t sleep. She had been tossing and turning all night, mentally replaying the stressful events of the day before. First she’d gotten yelled at by an irate constituent who had called Senator Horton’s office to complain about a controversial bill the senator had recently voted in favor of. Then she’d found herself in a verbal sparring match with an aide who worked for a rival senator. Although Courtney got the last word, the delay caused her to be late for a committee meeting, something that rarely, if ever, happened. Shortly after she returned from the meeting, she was told that Althea Pritchard—the niece of a man Courtney despised—was on the phone for her. Althea’s probing questions about Claire Thorndike’s abduction only served as a painful reminder to Courtney that her young friend was gone and may never be found alive.
Was it any wonder she couldn’t sleep?
Courtney blew out a ragged breath and punched her pillow in frustration. The clock on the nightstand taunted her with the lateness of the hour. Two-twenty.
She’d have to get up in a few hours for her morning jog before she got dressed for w
ork. She needed at least four hours of sleep or she couldn’t function, and working for a prominent senator meant she had to be in top form at all times.
Courtney turned over and closed her eyes, but after ten more minutes, sleep continued to elude her. She groaned and rolled onto her back, staring up at the darkened ceiling, her mind still racing.
She was just about to get up and do something productive—like draft a constituent letter for Senator Horton or fold her laundry—when she heard the creak of a floorboard.
Her heart lodged in her throat. The saliva dried in her mouth.
She sat up quickly and reached across the nightstand, switching on the lamp. She swept a panicked look around the large, tastefully furnished bedroom. It was empty. She held her breath, straining to listen for footsteps.
She heard nothing. The apartment was quiet and still.
There’s no one else here, she told herself. It’s just your overactive imagination. You’re paranoid because of what happened to Claire, and because Althea Pritchard tried to scare you.
But maybe she was right. Maybe whoever took Claire will come after her friends. At the very least, you should consider getting a security alarm. You’re a single woman living alone. You can never be too safe.
Courtney hesitated, deliberating whether to stay in bed or get up and do some work. She had a busy day tomorrow. Well, Senator Horton had a busy day, which meant she did as well. Since she was having such a hard time sleeping, she might as well get up and do something useful.
Decision made, Courtney threw back the covers and climbed out of bed. She had just started across the room when a masked figure dressed in black suddenly appeared in the open doorway.
Courtney screamed.
As the intruder slowly advanced on her, panic shot through her body. Stumbling backward, she grabbed the first thing she could put her hands on and hurled it at him. He calmly batted aside the ceramic flat iron and continued stalking her, silent and menacing.
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