by Desiree Holt
“Oh, really.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him.
He kissed her forehead, then gave her a pat on the ass. “Go on. I’ll be in shortly.”
She stripped off her clothes, and when the shower was good and hot, stepped under its spray. She couldn’t get her mind around the story Logan had told her about himself. To have loved someone so much, and to lose them the way he did was certainly devastating. No wonder he hadn’t gotten over it. Had closed himself off from emotion all these years. That might have made him a damn good Marine and now a security and protection agent, but at what cost to himself personally?
She was shocked that his reaction to her was so strong it could make him break his rules. And the agency’s. She was equally stunned at her own response. What a time for this to happen, but then it wasn’t always possible to predict how and when this kind of powerful emotional attraction would strike. She worried that when everything was over and her life returned to whatever passed for normal, Logan would have second thoughts. He’d regret what he’d done and what he’d told her, and pull back from her.
Okay. She was tough. She’d just go back to Tampa and try to rebuild a life that had come apart before her very eyes.
She turned off the water, squeezed the excess from her hair, and opened the door to get a towel. And gave a little squeak. Logan was standing there, holding the towel for her. She’d been so busy running her brain through hoops she hadn’t heard him come in, nor noticed the shadow outside the frosted door.
His mouth curved in a lopsided grin. “I could smell your brain burning all the way in the kitchen. Don’t think so much.”
She took the towel from him, not the least bit self-conscious about her nakedness, and began to dry herself off.
“I wasn’t thinking,” she denied.
He gave a short laugh. “Never try to lie to an expert.”
She wrapped the towel around her body, and tucked it in beneath one arm.
“Maybe I was thinking about this morning.”
“God. I hope so.” His voice had a rough, husky sound to it. He leaned in the doorway watching her as she spread lotion on her skin.
“Am I putting on a show for you?” she teased.
“I hope so.” His eyes glittered with need.
“So how do I stack up, on a scale of one to ten?”
He moved to lick an errant drop of water from her shoulder. “Possibly an eleven. We’ll see.”
She stripped away the towel and took her nightshirt from the vanity where she’d placed it earlier. After she slid it into place, he took her face in his hands and brushed his lips over hers.
“I haven’t been able to get this morning out of my mind.” His eyes, that mysterious stormy gray/blue, darkened almost to navy as heat sizzled in them.
“Me either.”
He tipped her head up so he could look in her eyes again. “It was…unbelievable. But it can be just as good if we are a little less hasty and frantic.” He took her hand. “Come on. Let’s get you into bed.”
Lifting her as if she were nothing, he carried her into her bedroom and turned back the covers and eased her down onto the sheets.
“Don’t go to sleep,” he warned, giving her another light kiss. “I’ll be right back.”
Devon tried to settle herself in the bed but she couldn’t seem to find a comfortable spot. She thought how strange it was that the bed seemed so empty without him.
He was as good as his word. In five minutes he was back in her room, a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still damp from a shower. Tossing the towel aside, he slipped into bed beside her and drew her against him, spoon fashion. Despite the shower, his body was still like a furnace. She could feel it even through the thin material of her sleep shirt.
She could feel something else, too, the hard, thick length of his cock nestled against the crevice of her ass. She wriggled her butt against him, pressing back against his body.
His arm around her waist tightened.
“Unless you mean business you better cut that out.”
“Oh, I definitely mean business.” She blew out a breath. “I need to wash away today and blot out all the bad images in my head.”
“It’s been a tough day for you.” His breath was a soft breeze against her ear. “I didn’t want to push you into something you were too wrung out to enjoy.”
“I don’t think I would ever not enjoy this.”
He didn’t say another word, just nibbled on the rim of her ear as he tugged up her sleep shirt and slid his hand up to cup a breast. She loved the feel of him and the way he touched her. His hands had a slightly rough feel to them, the touch of a man who used them for less than delicate things. She also knew he could use those hands to kill, but that didn’t detract from them at all. The moment he cradled her breast in his palm she felt her nipple go hard. When he brushed the pad of his thumb over it, she moaned, and Logan’s low, sexy laugh rumbled in her ear.
“Feel good?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she teased. “Keep doing it for another three or four hours and I’ll let you know.”
“You just lie there,” he whispered in a low growl, “and I’ll see what else I can do to make you feel good.”
He was unhurried, slow moving, as he stroked and teased her body. When he had tormented one nipple to his satisfaction, he slid his hand to the other one and gave it the same treatment. When she tried to wriggle her butt against him, he threw one muscled leg over both of hers and pinned her in place.
“No moving.” His voice was low and warm like molasses. “This is my show. Just relax and let me give you pleasure.”
Lying still was one of the hardest things she’d ever done but she drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and willed herself not to move.
When both nipples were hard and aching with need, he slid his hand down lower on her body, pausing at her navel to trace a fingertip again and again over the curled flesh there. Spears of electricity stabbed everywhere on her body, stealing her breath, and making her pulse accelerate until it felt like a jungle drum at the hollow of her throat, her wrists, and most important, between her legs.
Just as she tried to squeeze her thighs together to still the throbbing deep in her sex, Logan eased his hand down over her mound, nudged her thighs apart. As he eased a finger between her outer lips, gliding over her clit, he bit down lightly on her shoulder, intensifying every feeling in her body. She tried to push down on his hand but he held her in place, teasing her with his finger. One of his legs hooked over hers and tugged to inch her thighs apart, giving him full access to her.
She knew what sheer torment was now. It was the very slow glide of his finger over her clit in a touch as soft as a fairy’s kiss, just enough to torment her but not enough to give her the relief she wanted. With the palm of his hand pressed over her mound he rubbed and swirled and rubbed some more. When he finally slid one finger inside her she wanted to cry with relief. Only the moment she tried to press down on it, he eased it out of her hot, slick channel and concentrated only on stroking her clit with those lighter than air touches.
“Feel good, baby?” His voice was a low rumble in her ear. “Like that? And this? And this? You know what I’d like to do to you?”
And while he worked her clit like a master he proceeded to whisper in her ear details of every erotic act he wanted to commit with her. The more he stroked and the more he whispered the hotter and more aroused she became. When he removed his hand, she cried out in protest, but in the next moment he eased his middle finger, slick with her juices, between the cheeks of her ass. As lightly and gently as he’d done everything else he stroked up and down, pressing against the opening there before sliding his finger up and down again.
Devon thought she would go mad with need. She wanted him inside her, his finger inside her, his cock inside her, and she wanted it now. When he traced the she
ll of her ear with his tongue over and over, shivers raced down her spine and the walls of her sex throbbed and pulsed.
When she was at the point of begging, pleading, he nipped her shoulder again and shifted position for a moment.
“Hold on a minute. I made sure I was prepared.”
She felt him roll partially away from her for a moment. Then she heard the distinctive tear of foil, felt his hands against her ass as he rolled on a condom. Then he lifted her leg to slide his cock between her thighs, resting the head just at her opening.
“Please,” she begged again.
He eased himself in so slowly she wanted to scream. But she was good and ready for him, inner walls pliable and slick with her cream. When he was fully seated inside her, he pressed his hand against her abdomen to hold her body to his and began to move.
Devon never realized before what slow torture was but she knew it now. She tried to signal him to go faster but he was obviously determined to take his slow, sweet time. With every glide and thrust, in and out and forward and back, her desire ratcheted up another notch. He was hard and thick inside her, filling her completely, matching the strokes of his finger on her clit to the rhythm of his body until she wasn’t sure she could stand it another minute.
She was perched right on the edge of release, her body humming with need, nerves firing.
“Please.” She whispered the word. “Please, Logan.”
As if her plea triggered a reaction in his body, he pressed his hand hard on her mound, finger on her clit, thrust once, twice, then bit down on that sensitive spot where neck and shoulder joined. They exploded together, their bodies glued so tight together they might have been one person. Everything disappeared except the pulsing of her inner walls as they milked his cock and the spasms rocking her entire body.
At some point the frenzy subsided, the tension easing from their bodies. Devon struggled to catch her breath, even as she felt the beating of Logan’s heart against her and heard the rasping of his breath mingling with hers. Finally Logan eased from her body and rose from the bed to dispose of the condom.
“Back in a second.” His voice was deep and raspy.
“Not going anywhere,” she managed.
Devon couldn’t move if she wanted to. She just lay there, reveling in the incredible afterglow until Logan slipped into bed again and once more curled her body into his.
“Sleep,” he murmured, trailing kisses along her jaw.
And she did, falling at once into a deep sleep where everything from the past two days disappeared.
Chapter 11
Cruz Moreno wanted to throw the damned cell phone on the floor and smash it. Could no one do anything right?
Cole’s disappearance, without a trace, was a shock to him. He’d totally underestimated the man, something that still rankled. And now Cole, from wherever he’d disappeared to, had sent him a threatening e-mail. Leave Devon Cole alone or else. Well, fuck that. No one threatened Cruz Moreno and lived to talk about it. One way or another he’d find the man, or find a way to smoke him out. He hoped the two pendejos he had sent on this assignment got their act together. Getting rid of them and sending in another team would take time, and that was something he did not have. With one phone call, Graham Cole could bring down the entire cartel and Cruz was not about to let that happen.
The e-mail had sparked a nearly uncontrollable fit of temper. He had immediately typed “Chinga usted, pendejo.” Go fuck yourself, asshole.
He had waited for an answer but none was forthcoming. He had ordered Emilio, his nephew with a university degree in computer science, to trace the e-mail to determine Cole’s location, with no results.
“He is using an anonymous server, Tío,” Emilio said. “He has much the same setup we do. It’s impossible to trace.”
“Nothing is impossible,” Cruz shouted. “Find him.”
His rage only increased tenfold when Emilio told him it would take some time to get a geographic location.
Emilio had rubbed his hands nervously. “I’m not saying I can’t crack it, but it will take a lot of time.”
Now he clutched the cell phone in his hand hard enough to break it. He listened to the man on the other end of the call, anger seething through him as he heard excuse after excuse.
“So you failed.” He bit off each word. “Again. You were unable to capture Cole and I still don’t know how the fuck you let him get away. Then you made an incredible mess of the situation with his daughter. Now she’s had a look at you and gave your description to the police.” Pause. “What absolutamente bad luck that an agent from Vigilance, that thorn in everyone’s side, happened along at the exact wrong time. The same agent now living in her house. Perhaps your luck is too bad for me to keep you on this project.”
More squawking. He heard the panic in the man’s voice. Everyone who worked for him was well aware that screwing up could result in their execution.
“Then fix this. I don’t care how. He has to have left something at the house that will lead us to him. A clue. Find it. Today. And take Luis with you. He’s just sitting on his ass doing nothing. Maybe three of you will have better luck than two. Remember. This is your last chance. Comprende?”
He drew heavily on his cigar as he listened to protesting on the other end of the conversation. He could feel his blood pressure rise with each word.
Cruz curled his lips in a sneer. “Then you should be inspired. Call me when it’s done.”
He punched the button to disconnect and tossed the phone on the little table next to him. He leaned back in the large armchair in his living room, reaching for control, and blew out a stream of smoke from his hand-rolled cigar. The building of this house and complex had taken two years but everything had been done to his specification. Everything was custom designed and manufactured, from the furniture to the floor tiles to the crystal chandeliers. The pool was Olympic size and the patios on either side could hold a party for a hundred people. He had chosen to build on top of a very high hill, so that access was either by helicopter or up a very long, winding road that allowed him plenty of notice when anyone approached.
If others criticized it as being too opulent, well, that was too bad. He had the money and he loved spending it. He was, after all, el Jefe.
But today nothing in the house could soothe the anger bubbling inside him. His carefully laid plans that had worked for such a long time had developed a glitch that needed to be fixed at once. Cole International had been an ideal target to use as a conduit to launder money. Careful plans had been made, people put in place or seduced by the promise of large rewards. Fancy bookkeeping had put Graham Cole in a desperate situation. Everything would be cloaked in respectability and he wouldn’t have to worry about the operation garnering unwanted attention.
When Cole wanted to repay the money, he’d been told that was not possible and informed where the funds came from. When Cole objected violently and wanted out at once, Cruz’s anger rose to the surface. Others were on board with the plan. He failed to see what the man’s problem was. He had a steady flow of capital through his conglomerate, 10 percent of which went into the corporate coffers. Wasn’t that enough for him to look the other way?
Okay, Cruz was willing to admit he might have pushed the envelope when he’d demanded the use of Cole’s house several times for an exchange of goods, or for a meeting that could not take place at the Moreno property. But at the time, circumstances had permitted him very few options. He offered Cole an additional 2 percent of the money, a sum that would have satisfied anyone else. He should have been suspicious when the man agreed so readily, after digging in his heels.
“You really want to send them, after the mess they already made?”
He looked at the man sitting on the couch, the one he called Vato. “I need to find a clue as to where he’s hiding. He can ruin all of us, including you, if he lets it out.”
“People will be watching for them,” the man said. “Besides, Vigilance installed a new security system at the house.”
“Nothing I can’t handle.” He drew on his cigar and blew a thin ring of smoke in the air. “You are as much at fault as they are, mi amigo.”
Cruz was only too happy to call Vato friend as long as he continued to provide avenues to launder the vast sums of money the cartel received for the drugs and arms they smuggled. Today, with Cruz’s careful plan unraveling, he had sent his helicopter to fetch the man for this meeting. At this level, he preferred to deliver his ultimatums face-to-face. He’d always found that to be more effective.
Unfortunately, it hadn’t worked with Vincent Pellegrino. Who knew the man would grow a conscience? There was no room for one in this business.
Vato frowned. “At fault for what? Without me you wouldn’t be using Cole International to launder your money with such success. Or have any of the other deals I put together.”
“Don’t puff yourself up too much. You aren’t the only one who made this happen. You should have taken better control of this entire situation. No loose ends, however you had to do it.” He flicked a ring of ash into a crystal ashtray. “You assured me you had him under control.”
“I told you Cole freaked when he discovered the reality of the situation. I had to really talk him down off the ledge. We’ve never had a problem with anyone else.”
“But it’s been months since he found out. You had plenty of time to be sure nothing like this would happen.” He glared at Vato.
Vato shifted in his seat. It was obvious to Cruz he was trying to appear as unruffled as possible. “When Cole was desperate to save his company, I knew he’d take anything, since other doors were closed to him. I never thought he’d want out.”
Moreno took a puff on his cigar and blew another smoke ring. “Did he ever discover how it all came together?”
“Hell, no. That really would have been a disaster. Once he got used to the income, I didn’t think anyone in his right mind would want to terminate an arrangement that brought in that kind of money without lifting a finger.”