Uncontrollable

by Susan Kearney

  And finally he could say the words at the forefront of his mind. “When you hit the panic button, I got there as soon as I could.”

  “It seemed like forever.” At the memory, her irises darkened. “To resist him, I kept thinking about you.”

  “Did that work?”

  “A little. But it had been too long since we were together and I was weakening,” she admitted, molding her body to his and smoothing her hands over his shoulders and neck.

  He needed to make love to her. But now that they were in Hathaway’s suite, he also had to grab this chance to search for the perfume bottle and the diary. He was willing to let her prioritize the tasks. “What do you want to do first?”

  “There’s no way I can return to Hathaway unless we—”

  “Agreed.”

  He started to kiss her, but she turned her head slightly so instead of finding her mouth, his lips landed on her cheek. He would take what he could get. He trailed a hot kiss over her cheek to her ear, caught her lobe between his teeth and nibbled as he inhaled her scent.

  She giggled. “That tickles.”

  “Mmm.”

  “You’re distracting me.”

  “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  “Yes and no.”

  He nibbled her collarbone. “You’re contradicting yourself.”

  “Am I?” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not complaining about our former lovemaking, but, perhaps this time…”

  “This time?” He licked her neck.

  She shivered. “I can’t think when you do that.”

  “Thinking isn’t required.”

  “Maybe it is.”

  He straightened and ignored the tension in his groin, the swell of his balls, the urge to have her right here, right now. Obviously she was trying to tell him something important, and he wanted to hear what she was thinking. Only he wanted to make love to her more. Yet, he put her concerns first—which only reinforced in his own mind how much he was coming to care about her.

  He drew a deep draught of air into his lungs and released it slowly. “All right. I’m listening.”

  “Every time you’ve satisfied me, we’ve made love hard and fast.”

  “And?”

  “I’m not complaining. I was desperate and needed exactly what you gave me.”

  He suddenly understood exactly where she was going. “So, if we prolonged and drew out the lovemaking, maybe you’d be less susceptible to Hathaway.”

  He hoped she’d been hinting that she wanted something besides a physical release, that she wanted her emotions involved, too. But now wasn’t the time to ask. He didn’t want to push her too hard before she was ready. Obviously his feelings for her were way ahead of hers for him. Yes, she’d accepted the need for sexual intimacy between them. But now he was suggesting raising the stakes to another level.

  “Sounds like a plan,” she agreed.

  And he couldn’t have approved more. If she was sexually satisfied and emotionally fortified against Hathaway, she might find resisting his powers much easier.

  Not only did the idea make sense, he wondered why he hadn’t thought of it sooner. Probably because he had a lot on his mind. While he couldn’t help but admire her straightforward attitude and willingness to adapt to the circumstances, he also wondered what she was feeling. When she wasn’t sexy and saucy and sassy with the need to make love, she was self-contained. She talked less about herself than any woman he’d ever known. At first, he’d been attracted to her confidence and her adaptability, but now he wanted to go deeper, learn more about her.

  He kissed her on the mouth this time, his arms around her, his mouth angling over hers. They fused lip-to-lip, chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis, and he could feel her heart beating at a quick tempo, her nipples hardening.

  Physically she appeared to want him as much as he wanted her. But he wanted to take his time making love to her, wanted to savor what it felt like to be inside her. And although the testosterone coursing through him might be demanding he hurry, he was not about to allow his hormones to get in the way of her request to go slowly. Prolonged and easy was the order of the day.

  Her kiss tasted of anticipation, eagerness and pure feminine heat and he savored holding her and keeping her safe as much as he looked forward to assuaging both their needs. He slid his hands to her waist, under her blouse, and the warmth of her bare back under his fingertips was sheer heaven. He loved stroking her silky skin, adored the way the friction set off a matching thrum of electricity that went straight to his core.

  “Mmm. You feel good,” he whispered into her mouth.

  “You’d feel better if we weren’t wearing any clothes.”

  “You are the one who said we needed to slow down.” He smiled at her, knowing that if they did as she suggested and removed all their clothing, holding back would be almost impossible. “I’m taking off one item of your clothing and I get to decide which one.”

  She pulled back, blinked, clearly startled, then she laughed, her tone low and husky, her eyes glimmering with excitement. “Okay. As long as I get to do the same for you.”

  He didn’t have to consider which item of clothing to remove for very long. He trailed his fingers up her back and unhooked her bra. Then ever so slowly, he worked the lacy fabric out from beneath her blouse. He took his time, and along the way, he managed to graze the underside of her breasts, trace the inner curves and brush her nipples with the back of his hand. And she didn’t even pretend to hold still. She let out soft sighs of encouragement and wriggled to enhance the contact.

  And when he finally drew the bra out of her sleeve, she was trembling, yet eyeing him in speculation. She loosened his tie and he thought she meant to remove it. But she simply flipped the tie aside so she could unbutton his shirt.

  Taking her time, fingers shaking, she unfastened his top button ever so slowly and fingered his skin beneath, allowing the cool air to play over his flesh. He figured she’d move on to the second button next. But instead, she dipped her hands into the waistband of his slacks.

  He sucked in his breath, immediately going granite hard. “You don’t play fair.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” She pulled at the edge of his shirt, and he realized that going slowly might be the most difficult task he’d ever set himself.

  Her fingers teased and taunted. Featherlight, her caresses had his nerves leaping and his breath ragged, but it was his heart that she touched. And he suddenly had the desire to whisk her away from Hathaway’s suite to a place where their need for one another would be all their own, a place where work wouldn’t influence their passion for one another.

  Obligation stopped him from making the suggestion. Obligation to Kincaid and the Shey Group. Their organization maintained a platinum reputation because their agents never quit an operation. And even if he could bring himself to do so, Amanda wouldn’t rest until her sister’s killer was behind bars. That she’d been willing to go so far, that she was willing to put up with Hathaway, told him, more than any words could, just how determined she was.

  And although he admired that determination, a part of him, the selfish part, wanted her to make love to him for himself, not to satiate a need created by Hathaway. Although he knew deep down that Amanda wouldn’t make love to him unless she already liked him, Bolt realized he wanted more than that.

  When she peeled off his shirt, sweat beaded on his brow. Since their relationship was no longer just about sex—at least, for him—he decided taking some risk was in order. Peeling off clothing was no longer enough. He wanted to peel back her veneer and learn what was hiding beneath.

  “You’re so serious. Are you having second thoughts?” she murmured, leaning in to lick his nipple.

  “My thoughts are about getting inside your head.”

  “And here I thought you wanted to get under my skirt.” She leaned back and stared at him.

  “I want that, too,” he admitted. “I’m not willing to settle for half measures. I want all of you.” />
  Her eyebrows drew together and her irises glazed with a puzzled look. “You aren’t talking about making love, are you?”

  “I don’t know much about you.”

  “You’ve read my file.”

  “I don’t know your favorite food.”

  “Scrambled eggs.”

  “Or if you think it’s more romantic to gaze at the stars or the ocean.”

  “Actually I like to look at you and you still have too many clothes on. Are we going to search for the bottle or make love?”

  “Both.” Despite her wish to go slowly, he could see her impatience building, the tension making her lower lip quiver as she fought for control.

  And in truth, now was not the time for a soul-baring conversation. He took her hand and headed through the living room. “Come on. Let’s search for that diary and the perfume bottle.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To his bedroom.”

  He led her down a wide hallway with a marble floor and an Oriental carpet runner, past contemporary paintings of artists he didn’t recognize and sculptures of men and women in various tasteful embraces, backlit by carefully placed lighting. The decor screamed expensive.

  Double doors of burnished cherry opened into a private library that doubled as an office off the master suite. Here the paintings and sculptures became more erotic. Since his surveillance hadn’t penetrated this deep into Hathaway’s private room, Bolt slowed his steps and took stock.

  “Hathaway could have installed a safe behind any of those books or paintings.”

  Amanda frowned at the floor-to-ceiling shelves. “It’ll take hours to search behind all those books.”

  “Let’s try the master bedroom, first.” He tugged Amanda back into his arms. “But first, it’s time to remove another item of clothing.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.” She tugged off his tie, which he felt silly wearing since he was shirtless. “This time, I go first. And the tie doesn’t count.”

  “Whatever.” His attempt to appear casual didn’t come off as he intended. But remaining unaffected was impossible as she unzipped his slacks. And of course, she took her time, tugging them down and over his hips, normally an easy task. But his erection tented his boxers and she seemed to take great pleasure in running her fingers over the cotton.

  He kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his pants, then peered at her as if trying to decide what item of her clothing to remove next. The idea of her topless pleased him, but he didn’t want to be predictable. Kneeling, he slid his hands up her thighs, skipped over the gun at her thigh and found the triangle of silk between her legs already damp.

  “I like the idea of you searching the apartment without wearing anything beneath your clothes.”

  At his statement, she bit her bottom lip. “I was certain you’d go for my blouse.”

  “That would be fantastic but since you’re going to be searching under Hathaway’s bed—”

  She broke into an adorable chuckle. “On my hands and knees?”

  “Oh, yeah.” That image literally made his mouth water and he rubbed his hands together like the greedy man he was for the sight of her.

  “Why, you’ll be able to look right up my skirt. But you wouldn’t think of peeking, would you?” she asked, clearly egging him on.

  He grinned. “I’m not going to peek.”

  “You aren’t?” She sounded disappointed.

  And he hated to disappoint a lady. “I’m going to stare.”

  She didn’t blush. She simply wriggled her hips, urging him to hurry and remove her panties. And as much as he wanted to rush, he remembered her words—even if she didn’t. So he took his sweet time, taking every opportunity to stroke and caress, until bit by bit, he ever so slowly removed them.

  “Just knowing that you aren’t wearing anything under that skirt is intoxicating.”

  “Maybe I’ll give up wearing panties on a permanent basis then.”

  Whatever she meant, she’d raised his hopes. “I like the sound of that.”

  “I think we should search Hathaway’s room now.”

  She sauntered ahead of him, exaggerating the sway of her hips as if to remind him he’d removed her panties. But he didn’t need any reminders. Sheesh. Thinking about her bare under her skirt had him fantasizing all kinds of scenarios, and he followed in a daze.

  But she wasn’t as in control as she pretended, either. Not when her moisture had beaded onto his fingers. Not when her nipples were so tight and pebbled that they poked through her blouse, inviting his touch like a welcome sign.

  She wanted him. He wanted her. But life wasn’t that simple. They had a job to do and, while he fully intended to satisfy them both, their relationship was growing more complex by the moment.

  He’d never met a woman quite like her. She might have been a little reluctant to give herself over to him at first. But she’d thrown herself into the role so wholeheartedly, he had to wonder if she’d been holding back her entire life. He liked to think she’d been waiting for him.

  But weighing on him was the possibility that when the mission was over, they might not see one another again. However, Bolt was a man more suited to action than dwelling on what might be.

  He entered the bedroom and skidded to a halt, all thoughts vanishing in the face of the incredible sight before him. Amanda was on her hands and knees, her bottom high in the air as she searched under the bed. With her skirt hiked up her thighs, she presented him with a most enticing view. Coming closer, his heart thudded. He ached to thrust into her without warning.

  But he wouldn’t. And she knew he wouldn’t. She’d deliberately assumed her pose to taunt him and it was surely working. He felt ready to explode and his exasperation and yearning hardened his tone. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.” She wriggled farther under the bed, her voice muffled. “Would you happen to have a flashlight?”

  He forced his gaze from the delectable pink flesh peeking out from between her buttocks and searched the room, his chest tight, his fingers burning to touch her. The bureau’s top was bare and so was the nightstand, except for the clock radio and a lamp. Bolt picked up the lamp, kneeled and angled it under the bed, giving both of them a clearer view.

  “That’s better,” she murmured.

  “What’s under there?”

  “Books. Magazines. Old mail. Likely everything he wants to hide from the maid.” She began to wriggle back out, papers crinkling in her hand.

  Bolt reached under her skirt, placed his palm flat over her bottom and lips. “You sure you haven’t missed anything?”

  She arched into him. “I could look again.”

  He slipped one finger into her and placed another right on her clit, then tapped her there.

  “Oh.” She shimmied. “I thought we… What about searching… Damn, I can’t think when you…”

  He loved distracting her. He adored stoking her. Best of all he liked how she took an outrageous idea and followed through with it. He’d merely suggested that he’d wanted her in this position and she’d acted as if there was no place she’d rather be, no one she’d rather be with.

  “You really have a lovely bottom.” He stroked and petted and teased while she squirmed and wriggled in a most enticing fashion that made her rounded flesh quiver.

  Leaning forward, he bit her cheek where it arched so sweetly under his palm.

  “Ow.”

  With a long slow graze of his tongue, he licked away her pain. “Was that a complaint?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know-w-w.” Her words ended on a squeal as he nipped her other cheek.

  Again he licked away the nip of pain. “You sound confused.”

  “That’s because…you…you are…making me…crazy.”

  He increased the friction on her clit, rubbing quicker, pleased she was so damp, so slick, so ready for more. “Crazy in a good way?”

  “Mmm.”

  “You’re sure?”
>
  “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

  She was tensing, so close to bursting. And remembering she’d asked him to go slowly, he stopped and drew her out from under the bed, and then tried to pull her close.

  Tossing her hair out of her eyes, she twisted to glare at him. Eyes glazed, mouth pouting, she looked frazzled and sexy. “What are you doing? Why are we stopping?”

  “Don’t you want to read Hathaway’s mail?”

  Her eyes widened then narrowed. “You’re toying with me.”

  “Yeah.” He grinned at her obvious frustration, picked up half the pile of mail and shoved it toward her.

  “You.” She ignored the mail. “You are so in trouble.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yeah.” She yanked down his shorts before he’d realized what she was about. “Two can play this game.”

  “So you think you can hold out longer than me?” He laughed at her aggression, thoroughly enjoying her combination of pouting and threatening and brazen confidence.

  “Of course, I can hold out longer than you.” Her tone was breathless and haughty. She grabbed his sex with a look of mischief in her eyes, a cocky tilt of her head and salty challenge in her tone. “Go ahead. Start reading. Don’t let little old me distract you.”

  She’d never looked more beautiful than she did right then. With her hair wild, her chin smudged with dust from under the bed and green sparks in her eyes, she looked like the woman of his dreams, dreams he hadn’t even known he’d had until now. She might have been challenging him, but he didn’t care who gave in first, because in the end they would both win, they would both give and receive pleasure and they’d both get satisfaction.