* * *
IN EVERY OPERATION surprises arose. So far Amanda had handled this mission like a pro, but Bolt didn’t like the worry he saw in her eyes now that they were back at the apartment. He admired Amanda’s spunk and her courage. Since the moment she’d agreed to work with him she hadn’t appeared to change her mind, even when things had gotten rough. He imagined what it must be like for her and squirmed a little.
Even if her file hadn’t told him she liked to remain in charge, her personality would have revealed she wasn’t the kind of person to yield to a paranormal power without seeing it as weakness. The tragedy of losing her parents and then having to raise her sister at a young age had made Amanda strong. And she’d coped by keeping her own emotions on the back burner, by keeping control and pursuing her goals.
So, he fully understood what inner strength it must take for her to make herself vulnerable to Hathaway and the bottle’s powers. While she hadn’t complained, he could see the constant tension in her eyes that wore a person down. She needed a break from Hathaway but with half the workweek still before her, she wouldn’t get one. So he was very glad to settle her back in the luxury suite where he could soothe her.
From her file he knew her favorite wine was a Chardonnay and he’d already poured her a glass of one of the best years. Thanks to Kincaid’s pull, he had a gourmet meal on the way from one of New York’s best chefs.
He put on a Norah Jones CD, refilled Amanda’s glass of wine and watched her sip appreciatively. “Good?”
“Yes, thanks.”
She seemed formal, on edge, especially after that crazy scene under her desk. “If you want, you have time for a hot bath before the food arrives.”
She tipped up her glass and downed a large gulp. “Sounds like a plan, but it would sound better if you’d join me.”
His pulse accelerated at her words. “That’s an invite I won’t turn down. But you go on ahead and let me catch up. I need to call in and make a few arrangements.”
“What kind of arrangements?”
“I want more people nearby, in case we run into a problem.”
She kicked off her heels, padded over on bare feet and held out her empty glass. “I don’t like the idea that other people will know what you and I are doing.”
He poured her another drink. “They’ll be close. But not that close.”
“I suppose you know best.” She eyed him above the brim of her glass. “I’d like to come out of this operation with a modicum of dignity. The fewer people who know what’s going on, the better I’ll feel.”
Was she embarrassed that she couldn’t control her lust? Even after two glasses of wine, he was having difficulty reading her. She didn’t seem the slightest bit tipsy. In fact, she hadn’t seemed to relax at all.
“Go on. Run the bath and I’ll rub your shoulders.”
Eyeing him with a weary, yet saucy heat, she nodded. “You’re good at that.”
“What?”
“Rubbing me.” She grinned wider, saluted him with the glass and strolled toward the bathroom.
Apparently she wasn’t annoyed at him for the stunt he’d pulled on her while under the desk. The entire situation had been risky and the operation would have been blown if they’d been caught. Yet, he’d rather have ruined the plan and found another way to recover the bottle than to have had Hathaway work his wiles on Amanda. Never before had Bolt’s protective instincts for a partner been so strong. But going that far while he’d been under the desk had been necessary since she’d clearly been so needy. While he’d anticipated that she might chastise him afterward, if necessary he’d been prepared to accept her wrath.
Instead of anger, she’d given him attitude. He’d really lucked out when it came to Amanda for a partner. She might have been hesitant to accept this mission, but once she’d agreed, she was in all the way up to her perfectly arched eyebrows.
While Bolt could work with all different kinds of personalities, it was so much easier when everyone was on the same page. As he’d watched Amanda handle herself, his respect and admiration had increased until the lines between doing what was necessary for the mission and what he wanted personally had overlapped.
Bolt had no problem combining business and pleasure. As long as the pleasure didn’t interfere with the mission, his boss wouldn’t have any problems with the circumstances, either. But Bolt wasn’t certain how Amanda felt. Was she separating the work sex from personal sex? Was he?
The mission goal and his own desires had merged until he was no longer certain of the reasons for his actions. Perhaps the nature of the mission had made his growing feelings for her inevitable. While he was no longer content for her to think of him as a means to an end and wanted her to desire him for himself, she remained all business.
However, he wasn’t certain she knew her own mind. With Hathaway manipulating her, Bolt would be there for her when she needed him and not press her. He understood that giving up control was difficult for Amanda and while he suspected her feelings for Bolt might be deepening, she might not be ready to admit it—even to herself.
Amanda coped with life by keeping her emotions under a tight rein. When her parents had died, she hadn’t had the luxury of falling apart. She’d had to raise a teenager, something many adults were unprepared to do. So she’d clamped down on her emotions and focused on her goals, her reaction determined and mature and brave. In many ways, Amanda reminded Bolt of so many of his Shey Group colleagues. She had the same stick-to-it drive and resolve to see the job through.
While it was his job to help Amanda, he wanted more. He wanted to take care of her. During a mission last year in Iraq, Bolt had to come to the aid of a British agent when they’d been trapped behind enemy lines while attempting to rescue a kidnapped Iraqi police chief. But his feelings for the British woman had never gone beyond friendship. With Amanda, he was down right possessive. After a trying day that had ended late, Bolt wanted to feed her and ensure she had a good night’s rest. He was willing to do whatever Amanda wanted to help her through the mission. But he wouldn’t be a red-blooded American male if he didn’t think about her waiting for him in that tub. While he’d enjoyed every moment of satisfying her, his balls ached. He needed release, which if necessary, he could see to himself. But it would be so sweet to bury himself into her to the core.
However, that would be her call.
* * *
AMANDA RAN THE BATH and decadently poured a generous handful of hyacinth bath salts into the steamy water. After lighting several vanilla-scented candles, she turned off the light, shed her clothes and slid into the hot water with a sigh of satisfaction. She could get used to a tub like this, one with a heater that maintained the water temperature so the warmth wouldn’t cool until she drained the tub.
Propping her head and neck on an air pillow, she closed her eyes and let the water cuddle her and coax away the tensions of her challenging day. Setting the jets to a soft, comfort spray, she leaned back and allowed the water pressure to massage muscles sore from tension. She supposed she should review what she’d learned, what she’d done and the shocking pleasure Bolt had given her. But she needed rest and her eyes closed as she drifted to a peaceful place.
She had no idea how long she napped, but when she awakened, Bolt’s hands were on her shoulders rubbing her neck. “Mmm. You feel great.”
“I hated to wake you but the food will be here soon.”
“If you keep working out all those knots, I may never get out of this tub.”
He chuckled. “If you stay in there much longer, you’ll turn into a prune.”
She angled her head to watch him. “Do you like prunes?”
“Yeah.” His eyes darkened with a sexual intensity that fully awakened her.
“So why haven’t you joined me?” she complained.
“I was hoping you’d say that.” He removed his shirt and his bronze muscles flexed, rippling in the candlelight.
Bolt had a great body, like an Olympic swimmer’s, all le
an, hard muscles that came from vigorous workouts. She couldn’t wait to slide her hands over his skin. She wanted to taste him, memorize him with her fingers and palms and lips and tongue. She wanted to breathe in his scent, run her fingers through his hair and over his jaw and neck and chest.
But as much as his masculine shape appealed to her, his words aroused her curiosity more. “You were waiting for my invitation?”
“Of course.”
His easy admission had her almost sputtering in confusion. “But you didn’t ask for permission when you…were under my desk.”
“That was necessary. Tonight isn’t.” He slid next to her in the tub until they touched at the shoulders, arm and hip.
“Hmm. You might be wrong.” She didn’t bother to disguise the teasing lilt to her tone.
Bolt stiffened. “You think Hathaway is still affecting you?”
“I haven’t had sex in a long time, and perhaps that makes me more sensitive to his power of suggestion or the bottle or whatever the hell he uses.”
“I hadn’t considered that angle.”
“Well…then it’s a good thing I did.” She slid her hand along his thigh. “Because I want to make love tonight and maybe if we do it right, I’ll be immune to Hathaway tomorrow.”
“There’s a wrong way to make love?” Bolt joked casually. But even if the huskiness of his tone hadn’t revealed his interest in her, she couldn’t miss his very prominent erection.
“I like to have the choice. When Hathaway creates such strong unnatural needs, I don’t feel like myself.”
“When you’re with Hathaway, I can’t give you that control. But I can do so now.”
“What do you mean?”
“That we can do nothing…or whatever you like. I’m at your complete command—after all, it’s only fair for you to take charge for a change.”
His magnanimous offer took her breath away and her enthusiasm escalated. She tested him. “Right now, I don’t want you to move one muscle.” Her hand cupped him where he was soft, and she trailed her fingers upward to where he was hard. “Nix that. You can move one muscle, but only one muscle.”
“Are you certain?” he asked.
“Certain that I want you? Yes. Certain making love will protect me from Hathaway? No. But I can’t think of a better way to learn how to counter him, can you?” She trailed her fingers over the ridge of his sex and watched a corded muscle in his neck throb.
“I can’t think at all. All the blood seems to have left my brain.”
She laughed. “For what I have in mind, thinking isn’t necessary.”
Sitting up, she changed position until she kneeled between his thighs. Picking up several handfuls of bubbles and water, she poured it over his chest, enjoying the sight of the trickles running down the hard ridges and defined muscles, the water droplets clinging to his tight nipples. Leaning forward, she nuzzled his neck, breathed in his scent and marveled at the wonderful texture of his flesh. The man had great skin, tanned and toned and firm and slick.
She finally had the opportunity to touch him the way she wanted and, true to his word, he held perfectly still. She liked having him at her mercy for once. And she planned to make the most of the opportunity, especially when she noted the tension in his mouth, the narrowed eyes that told her that remaining still was oh-so difficult for a take-charge man like him.
But the fire in his eyes encouraged her to give him a taste of what it felt like to burn until every thought was devoted to attaining only one thing—release. She’d known that feeling all too well recently. And now he would know it, too.
Leaning forward, she brushed her lips over his, purposely skimming her nipples across his chest, and ignoring his jutting sex. She wanted him to guess where and how and when she would touch him next. She wanted him straining. She wanted him on edge. She wanted to see how far she could push him for a change, and her curiosity had nothing to do with the mission. Her interest was all her own.
What she hadn’t counted on was that touching him would cause her pulse to elevate, her breath to hitch and her breasts to ache. Touching him had become intimate and personal because only her own wishes motivated her—not some damn bottle. A pleasant tingle between her thighs intensified as she stroked his shoulders, skimmed a path down over his hard belly and then dipped to his sex.
“Tell me you want me to touch you there,” she demanded and pulled her hands upward.
“Touch me,” he rasped.
She turned a bottle of lotion upside down and then dunked her hands under the water. Grasping him with both hands, she watched his eyes as she moved her fingers up and down ever so slowly. His hands clenched the side of the tub. A groan of pleasure guided her to a sensitive spot directly under his swollen head.
“I can’t take…much more.” His words were half warning, half promise.
“You’ll take whatever I decide to give,” she whispered, feeling strong and feminine.
She liked that he wanted her this much. She liked that he didn’t think he could maintain control. She liked driving him right to the brink.
And it was good to know that sex with this man didn’t always have to be burning-up desperation, that she could build the fire slowly, enjoy each flicker, each catching ember. She had no doubts that soon she would finally have him inside her. But she would control the moment, the tempo and rhythm. And she appreciated that he wanted to please her—to the point of holding back his own pleasure.
Oh, yeah. Her hands continued to tease him, but she didn’t apply enough pressure for him to explode. She wanted to save that moment for when he was inside her.
“Kiss me,” she commanded. She leaned forward and slanted her mouth over his, giving him no choice but to accept her tongue, to yield to her fingers playing with his sex, to submit to her nipples taunting his chest as their mouths fused.
Lifting her hips, she meant to straddle him and finally have him inside her. But he tore his mouth from hers. “Condom. By the faucet.”
That he’d remembered, and she hadn’t, startled her, although it shouldn’t have. She hadn’t been herself since she’d met this man, but now she couldn’t blame the bottle. Her wants and lust were all her own. Fumbling for the packet, her fingers shook. The slippery soap made ripping the foil impossible and she grunted in aggravation.
* * *
BOLT TOOK IN her expression, the way her nose squinched up, the way her lips pouted and it took every brain cell he had to remain still. “Want some help?”
“I can do it.”
“My hands are dry.”
“Fine.” She held the condom out to him by the edges to keep it dry, but the moment he took it, her hands delved back under the water and locked on to their target.
While he damned sure wasn’t going to complain, her seeking fingers made the immediate opening of the packet even more of an urgent matter. After a few days of Amanda’s company, he felt ready to burst, but he refused to climax until he was certain she would be right there with him. So he remained on that painful edge, appreciating her every sensual stroke. When he couldn’t take another moment, he ripped the foil.
But she tugged on his sex, her tone ardent and hoarse. “Kneel.”
He did as she asked and when he finally projected out of the water, she splashed away the suds. He expected her to take the condom and sheathe him or allow him to do so, but instead, she took him into her mouth. Instant pleasure rammed home. The exquisite pull of her lips combined with her busy tongue and fierce heat caused every cell in his torso to fire and demand that he pump his hips. But with her hands tugging on his balls, she held him captive.
And when he gently tried to withdraw in order to increase the friction, she nipped him and squeezed where he was most sensitive, warning him not to move. Yet the pressure from her tongue and lips was driving him wild.
Building tension had him strung so tight that he had to brace his hands against the side of the tub. His breath came in hungry, hot gasps. Surges of electric bliss centered in one ar
ea.
He was losing control, yielding in splendid wonder to her expertise. His muscles clenched, ready to explode. “I’m going to—”
“Not yet.” She clamped down at the base of his sex, stopping his ejaculation.
His heart pounded and he broke into a melting sweat. He’d never been so hard, so engorged, so needy, so close. His ears rang. Amanda’s sheer enthusiasm had him excited to the max. Just one flicker of her tongue, one caress from her palm would shoot him into ecstasy.
He had no idea when he’d closed his eyes but when he opened them, she had a satisfied glow on her face, a wicked gleam in her eyes and a knowing twist to her lips. “Was that the doorbell I just heard?”
“Doorbell?” He was having trouble concentrating.
She laughed. “Didn’t you say something about food being delivered?”
He said the first thing that popped into his head. “I can’t answer the door in this condition.”
The bell rang. This time he heard it clearly. And he didn’t give a damn about food right now. The only hunger he wanted to fulfill was his hunger for her.
She stood, the bubbles and bath water gleaming off her skin in the candlelight. “I’ll answer the door and be right back. But you have to promise me something.”
He could barely think and she wanted promises. Hell, he’d promise her anything if she’d return and keep doing what she’d been doing.
“What?” he growled, starting to sit back into the water.
“Wait for me.”
“Okay.”
“Stay exactly like that.” She challenged him with a look, running one finger down his chin. Then she stepped from the tub and slipped into the bathrobe that was hanging on the back of the door, slowly covering her gorgeous body.
“You want me to wait for you in this position?” He was on his knees, his hands braced on the rim, his sex aching, his blood simmering. But he knew she was getting off on taking back a measure of control. He wanted to give what Hathaway had taken away. Even if he’d never gone so far before, he was willing to do so for her.
“I like the idea of you waiting for me.” She knotted the belt at her waist.
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