ENTRAPMENT

by Kylie Brant

  She met his gaze, held it. "What happens with that information, Sam?"

  Returning his focus to his driving he said tersely, "It'll be decrypted to determine if it's the data we're looking for."

  "And if it's not?"

  He hadn't expected the question; hadn't really spent much time considering it. His agent had told him about the file's existence and location shortly before he'd been murdered. From the description he'd received, he didn't doubt that he'd copied the right file. He answered the question anyway, as honestly as he could. "We'd have to reassess. The information exists. It's just a matter of knowing where to find it."

  "Over the years I've acquired schematics for the layout and security of almost every corporate headquarters he owns."

  Not for the first time, she'd managed to surprise him. "That had to be expensive."

  "Well there's a delicious sense of irony using money I've gotten from selling his things to finance my endeavors."

  He couldn't help but grin. She sounded so damn smug about it. And she was right. The irony of the deal was beautiful. His grin faded as he considered her earlier words. "So if you know how to get into any of his holdings…"

  "You're welcome to any of the details I've gathered."

  He wasn't going to need her information. He was certain of that. So he didn't know why her response to his next statement seemed so important. "Let me guess. All that would cost is one of those little camera gadgets you've yet to relinquish."

  Her voice turned reflective. "Well, if you're offering…"

  "I'm not."

  Her shrug was curiously European. "You're still welcome to it."

  Not, he noted, to her help in acquiring it, just to the security information itself. Still, he could appreciate the generosity of the gesture. Even be touched by it. Juliette Morrow didn't offer anything freely. He'd learned that much about her. Which made her offer doubly precious. It was not, however, the one thing he'd like her to offer. Spontaneously. Without reservations.

  Shifting uncomfortably in the seat, he tried to force his mind back to the matter at hand. "The information I copied has to be verified. Once it has been, you'll be free to go."

  He expected an expression of relief. Or perhaps even a tart response. What he didn't expect was her pensive expression. The emotionless tone. "How much longer?"

  "If it checks out, it shouldn't be more than a day or two. Three at the most."

  An empty feeling of loss accompanied the words. Which didn't make sense, given the circumstances. If things checked out it meant they were damn close to nailing Oppenheimer for good. He could get back home for a while until the next assignment. It would be good to see his brothers again, to ride herd on his sister Ana and rib Jones about the wedding plans. But as hard he tried, it wasn't home that filled his mind. It was the woman beside him.

  "Three days isn't very long."

  Something in her voice had him looking over at her. And what he saw there almost had him driving into the back of a delivery truck. There was awareness, perhaps a hint of trepidation. But there was also a reflection of the smoldering hunger that had been riding him since they'd met. Seeing it torched his own.

  She reached over, her hand hovering for a moment, before settling deliberately, lightly on his thigh. The muscle jumped beneath her palm, and his heart nearly leaped out of his chest before settling down to a slow steady pounding. There was nothing coy about Juliette. When she saw something she wanted, she reached out and took it. That was the very characteristic that had led him to her. The same one that continued to bother him, more than he'd like to admit. But right now, with that wanting turned on him, the trait took on a totally different light.

  Her fingers moved upward, hesitated, before sliding down again in a heated stroke that had every nerve ending in his body standing at alert. With his eyes still on the road, he rapidly figured the remaining time before they reached her apartment. Five minutes of driving. Then he still had to park the car. She squeezed his leg lightly and he could feel sweat sheen his upper lip. Another five minutes to get her into the building, up to her penthouse. She traced an imaginary line along his thigh with her fingernail and he accelerated through a yellow light. Horns blared in his wake.

  "You're playing a dangerous game." His voice was rough with checked passion.

  A tiny smile played across her lips. "I like dangerous games. And you know what, Sam?" She leaned close enough to whisper in his ear. "I think you like them, too. I think you play more than your share of them." Her teeth closed around his earlobe for a quick nibble, before she eased away again. And a fist of desire clenched in his gut even as the truth of her assessment hit him.

  Dangerous games. His life was a series of them. Every assignment called for weighing the odds, taking risks. And the time had long since passed when he'd stopped denying it. Duty to his country was only a part of his commitment to the job. The adrenaline highs that came with the missions were as addictive as any drug. Despite his love for his home and family, there was an all too familiar restlessness that would rear up if he spent too long in the law offices or too much time in the States. He needed the rush that came from depending on his wits, with success or disaster hanging in the balance. And he knew Juliette would understand that. Whatever her motivations, she wouldn't have chosen the life she had, wouldn't continue it, if she didn't get that same kind of thrill from the jobs she planned. In that sense, at least, they were all too much alike. The only thing that shook him was the fact she recognized it, too.

  Her hand was warm on his leg, and her fingers never stopped moving. Massaging, stroking. He glanced at her. The light in her eyes said she knew exactly what she was doing to him. And it occurred to him in a flash why she was doing it. "You think you'll control this thing between us?" he asked softly. Her eyes widened, as if he'd scored a direct hit. "Think if we let it play out on your terms, in your time, that you'll be able to direct how much you'll give? And take?" His hand went to hers, and he brought it to his lips. "That isn't going to be an option." He closed his teeth around the soft flesh of her palm for an instant, before placing it again on his thigh. This time his hand covered hers. "You play a game with me, you'd better be prepared to risk it all."

  Even with his attention divided between the driving and her face, he could see the shock in her expression, the automatic rejection of his words. She was used to guarding her emotions, making her decisions as coolly and as calculatingly as he did. But there wouldn't be cool logic applied to this. He'd make damn sure of it.

  "Come over here." His tone made it a dare. With a lift of her brows she accepted, slid nearer so that she was snuggled against his side. For an instant he was reminded of the hours they'd spent in the closet, touching from shoulder to ankle. But then the mission had been between them, something to distract him a little from the flame she ignited every time she got this close. There'd be no diversion this time. And only one conclusion he'd accept.

  His blood began to hammer, a hard primal beat. She slid her hand from beneath his and trailed it higher, her index finger tracing the crease between thigh and groin. He jerked in response, swore when the car swerved a bit before he righted it again. Her low laugh told him his earlier words hadn't convinced her. Maybe she'd never met a man who'd demanded … everything. Perhaps her other lovers hadn't cared that she never lowered her guard even when she took them to her bed. But he cared. Enough to dismantle those defenses of hers, if necessary. One by one.

  He crooked a finger and ran it lightly along the curve of her breast. His knuckle grazed her nipple. It was turgid, straining against the soft cotton of her top. She didn't quite manage to restrain her sharply indrawn breath. The indication of her response fired his own. Rubbing gently, he circled the nipple with his knuckle, before taking the tip between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing gently.

  Her hand clamped on his leg, and a shudder racked her body. He could feel it work its way through her as her body quivered against his. And in that instant he'd have given his con
siderable inheritance for a soft mattress and a little privacy.

  He took the corner to her building too fast, throwing her even closer against him. His hand went to her shirt and he undid the first two buttons with more haste than finesse. Her skin was warm, beckoning a firmer touch, and even as he obeyed the urge, a distant alarm sounded at the back of his mind. Sex was a pleasurable pastime, a way to indulge the senses. He wasn't used to wanting, until it was a fever in the veins, battering him from the inside. Caution should have had him rearing back, rearranging his priorities.

  Desperation made caution laughable.

  With a screech of brakes he wheeled the car into the parking garage, drove to the top level. The air sizzled with sexual tension, the energy humming and sparking between them. He'd known it'd be like this between them, had sensed it the first time she pressed her mouth against his. But he'd never suspected the way desperation could draw a man tight until the most casual touch threatened to shatter any semblance at civility. She rubbed her free hand over his chest, kneading the muscles beneath, and it took all the strength he could muster to beat back his primitive response.

  Throwing the car into park, he turned off the ignition even as he reached for her, pulled her onto his lap with one hard jerk. His mouth found hers, ravenous, devouring. A feral little purr sounded in her throat. The evidence of her desire went to his head

  faster than his favorite Scotch.

  He had just enough control to raise his head, shake it a little to clear the haze of passion. A car was passing by slowly, the driver as intent on watching them as she was on finding a parking spot. It was the reminder he needed that they weren't assured of privacy. Not here. Not yet.

  He unlocked the door and shoved it open, tilting the steering wheel up to allow Juliette to slide off his lap. When she did, she pressed her hip snugly against his straining shaft for a moment, and a low groan was torn from him. Poised on the edge of the seat, she looked over her shoulder, and he knew in that instant that the touch hadn't been accidental. Hauling in one deep breath he waited for her to exit the car before following her out. Locking it, he slammed the door shut behind him, slid his arm around her waist, his hand cupping her bottom.

  "Wait," she protested breathlessly as he guided her rapidly toward the elevator. "I don't think that's a parking space."

  He glanced back at the car, parked at an awkward angle between two yellow lines. "Tough." Reaching the elevator, he jabbed his finger at the button impatiently.

  "And our bags are still in the trunk."

  The doors slid open, revealing an empty compartment. Sam urged her inside with one firm push on her bottom, and selected the penthouse. When the doors slid shut he slapped his palm over the button that would keep them closed.

  "They'll wait." The firestorm she'd ignited in him flared, threatened to erupt as he crowded her against the wall of the elevator and took her lips again. Her mouth was avid, her tongue tangling with his. His free hand went to her shirt and he hooked a finger in it, giving a hard tug. The remaining buttons flew off, bouncing across the area.

  His palm skated over her bared stomach, reveling in the feel of warm satiny flesh. She'd feel like that all over, he thought savagely. Like silk just waiting to be stroked. And he was going to touch every inch of her. Find all the secret spots that made her sigh, then moan. Steep himself in her taste and scent until neither of them could tell where one left off and the other began.

  His mouth left hers and cruised to her throat, found the pulse there whipping furiously. Oddly enough, the discovery soothed the desperation riding him, just a fraction. Despite her efforts at control, she was having just as hard a time reining in her responses as he was. And that suited him just fine. His hand went to her back, released the hooks on her bra as he scored her throat with his teeth.

  "Sam!"

  That word held the barest thread of panic even as her head tipped back, allowing him freer access. He skimmed his lips over her jawline, inhaled the perfume she'd dabbed below her ear.

  "The elevator could stop…" Her voice trailed off as he stroked his hand on her back, beneath the unfastened bra. He slipped his index finger inside the bottom edge, began inching it toward the front.

  "Maybe. But the doors won't open." Her mouth was red, ripe, a little swollen from his. He decided the look suited her. Her breath hitched as his finger moved, one excruciating inch at a time, to her side. She didn't seem to be breathing at all as it traveled at a snail's pace to poise, just beneath her breast.

  For a moment all he did was watch her. It was an exquisite torment in its own right. Emotions were chasing over her face, too varied to be identified. Her hands resting lightly on his hips, her lips parted, as if in anticipation of his next move.

  This moment had been tantalizing him since the day they met. Since the instant he'd felt her hand in his pocket, her mouth moving expertly on his. Then he'd wanted, badly, to lay her down, to draw exactly this response from her. He'd feared many times that this day would never come. And he'd sometimes feared that it would.

  She wouldn't be a woman like any other, to share a lusty coupling and casual parting. He wouldn't be able to dismiss her so easily from his mind, or from his memory. She'd linger there, a tormenting reminder that would take him unaware when he could least afford the distraction. And even knowing it, being certain of it, he couldn't walk away.

  He hooked his finger in the bottom of her bra, watched her swallow as it grazed the underside of her breast. Then he drew it upward, baring her to his avid gaze. And any thoughts of future regrets were forgotten.

  Her breasts were high, round, the nipples pebbled to hardness. Bending his head, he took one in his mouth and lashed it with his tongue. She pulled him closer, arched her back and he obeyed her unspoken command. His cheeks flexed as he drew strongly from her, taking more of her breast in his mouth, feasting on the taste of her.

  She tugged his shirt from his pants, then her hands were skating up his sides. The feel of those soft palms stroking his skin released something savage inside him. This was what he wanted, and yet it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. She was a fever pounding recklessly through his veins, and every touch ratcheted the temperature up another notch.

  Releasing her breast, he admired the sight of her turgid nipple, wet from his suckling, before switching his attention to its twin. Juliette was exploring his chest, kneading the muscles there, tracing a path to his shoulders then back down his sides to start all over again. As she fought to get his shirt off he reluctantly lifted his head and helped her, divesting her of her shirt and bra in one smooth swoop.

  Then his mouth found hers. Flesh pressed against flesh, causing a riot of sensation. Control was slipping. Finesse was difficult to summon. Her hands were clutching his biceps, her breasts flattened against his chest. And still he couldn't get enough of her.

  The oxygen clogged in his lungs. The air seemed too thick to breathe. There was only the woman in his arms, the responses she was drawing from him. The response he wanted from her in return.

  It was several moments before he realized the elevator had stopped. Several more before he could manage to lift his mouth from hers and glance at the floor number. The penthouse.

  When the door slid open, he kicked their pile of clothes out first, then, with his hands on Juliette's hips, swung her around and backed her out of the compartment. When her shoulders rested against the wall by her door, he traced her collarbone with his tongue. Unbuttoning her pants, he worked the zipper down to reveal a narrow wedge of black silk.

  Leaning forward, Juliette nipped at his shoulder, then assuaged the slight sting with her tongue. The pain only sparked his hunger, honed it to a keener edge. Hands tight on her hips, he battled the visceral demand for release, immediate and primitive. Not now. Not yet. Not until she was crying out from the pleasure he gave her, moaning his name. Not until he'd branded her with his touch, so no other could ever lay a hand on her again without thoughts of him clouding their time together.

&nb
sp; The thoughts of any others coming after him had him clenching his jaw to battle back an irrational, primitive fury. A glimmer of it must have been reflected in his expression because when Juliette dragged her eyelids open, she swallowed hard at the sight of him.

  "Sam?"

  He stroked away the uncertainty in her voice with a soothing hand gliding down her back, pressed a deep wet kiss on her lips to prevent any further questions. They had no future, but the two of them certainly had the present. Now. Here. Today. And he was going to make it last.

  Slipping his hands into her unfastened pants, he pushed them down over the provocative curve of her hips. Along the silky expanse of thigh, until he was kneeling before her, divesting her of all her clothing except the scrap of panties.

  His chest tightening, he stared up at her, imprinting the picture she made on his memory. Her earlier uncertainty had faded, and the only emotion that showed on her face was desire. Her tangle of dark hair covered her bare shoulders, teased the tops of her breasts. Her skin was the color of rich cream, inviting a caress. With her curves promising the sweetest ride into heaven, she personified sin, wickedly seductive.

  As if reading his thoughts, her lips tilted. With a deliberate stretch of her leg, she trailed her foot lightly up the inside of his thigh, to circle suggestively around the bulge in his pants.

  "One of us is overdressed."

  Taking her small foot in his hands, he massaged the arch with his thumbs before setting it on the floor and rising. "Not from where I'm standing." He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, deep and rawly carnal, holding nothing back, demanding the same response in return. He got that, and more. Juliette wrapped her arms around his neck, fingers threading through his hair. His mouth ate at hers, as if to assuage the heavy ache that had settled in his loins.

  She gave a little gasp of surprise when his arms cupped her bottom, lifted her off the floor. Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, and he pressed her back against the wall, dipping his head to take one nipple in his mouth. He sucked from her until she was twisting against him, the notch of her thighs rubbing against his manhood. He thrust against her, one heavy surge of his hips, and a moan was ripped from her throat.