Bet Me

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Bet Me Page 20

by Catherine Mann


  “Don’t move,” he cautioned her, wanting everything to be perfect for her. He backed away a step to memorize every facet of her, her cheeks flushed and wild dark hair curling against her jaw, then he sprinted back to a cabinet of linens in the hallway. Bringing a blanket back with him he snapped the cotton throw with his wrists to billow behind her and then wrapped it around her like a cape.

  She smiled, her red lips curving upward to reveal straight white teeth. “I’m a big girl, Agent Ramsey. You don’t have to protect me.”

  “If I’m going to fulfill all those wishes of yours I have a vested interest in making sure I don’t give you rug burn. Or table burn in this case.” He unfastened his pants, freeing him from a confinement he couldn’t handle any longer.

  She caught him in her hands, running her fingers up the length of him through his boxers. His eyes were crossing before his trousers hit the floor. Her thighs—bare except for the hint of stocking still strapped to her legs—hugged his, her ankles lodged behind his knees to draw him close.

  “Promises, promises,” she taunted him, rubbing her breasts against his bare chest as she leaned closer. “Where is all this fierce activity that could give me table burn?”

  She circled the tip of him with one finger before yanking his boxers down and off. She eyed him with open longing and it was all he could do not to plant himself deep inside her right that second. Her red mouth matched the crimson of her lace panties still clinging to her hips by fragile ribbons tied in tiny bows.

  “I’m sorry I’ve had to make you wait,” he whispered in her ear, tipping her back against the table to lie down. “But I promise it’s for your own good. Remember I told you there would be feasting first?”

  He untied the skinny laces at her hips and pulled her panties off, baring her to him. She arched her back, hips restless as he made his way down her body to taste her.

  Her breath hissed between her teeth as he kissed her intimately. Another time he might have lingered to take off her garters and press kisses up the inside of her thigh, but he couldn’t afford that kind of side detour now, tempting though it might be. He teetered close to the edge himself after going without her for so many months, but he was determined she’d cross that line first. And thanks to inside information about what she liked, he happened to know this would take Dorian to that sensual high the fastest.

  Her breathing came quicker as she cried out a string of sweet nonsense, her hips lifting to meet his mouth. He pressed harder, drawing on the swollen center of her until her thighs clenched helplessly around his shoulders and she shouted with the first waves of her orgasm. He gave no quarter, sliding his finger inside her to tease every last delicate spasm from her.

  When her cries turned to pleas for more he released her, wrenching a condom from his pants pocket before he stretched out over top of her. She covered his face in kisses as she tried to sit up, her fingers tugging the packet out of his hands to take over the task herself.

  By now he had no choice but to let her. He was teetering so close that any lingering stroke of her hands could probably send him hurtling into endless completion, so he concentrated all his energy on simply surviving her touches.

  The scent of her clung to his skin, making him crazy. Her thighs clenched his, drawing him to her even while she kept him at arm’s length to roll the condom down him. Her fingers trembled with the aftershocks of the sexual high she’d reached, and he promised himself it wouldn’t be the last time he had her quivering like that.

  “I can’t wait to be inside you.” He told her the bare truth, his hunger for her so raw and basic that he couldn’t imagine ever looking at her without wanting her again.

  The tenderness in her eyes slugged him hard as she aligned their bodies and he knew he’d never wanted to possess a woman so completely. Then her eyes slid closed and—finally, at last, thank you—he eased himself between her thighs.

  Her head tipped back, arching her breasts high and within tasting distance from his mouth. He watched his hands cover them, shape them, mold them toward his mouth, the tan of his skin a sharp contrast to the paler color of her here, even with her golden skin tone. He nipped and sucked, pinching her gently between his fingers as he drove deeper inside her.

  His thighs hit the table and he dragged her body back to the edge of the table, closer to him. Her eyes fluttered open at the movement, her gaze locked with his.

  Something passed between them—a look, a feeling, a moment of connection—and Simon committed himself to her without hesitation. He slid his arms around her waist, drawing her up to sit on the table as he found the rhythm that would work for both of them. Her ankles locked around his waist as she squeezed him with her inner muscles and then all was lost.

  Heat rushed through him at light speed, erasing anything but desire for Dorian. The force of his climax damn near brought him off his feet, the reverberations blasting through his whole body. He gathered her to him, powerless to communicate what he felt for her any other way. But maybe that’s because he didn’t fully comprehend it himself.

  He’d never needed anyone before, his life as an FBI agent perfectly suited to a loner. But Dorian had snuck under his radar and become a vital part of him.

  The thought scared him even before the sweat had a chance to dry off his skin.

  In the past, he would have thought a night of nonstop sex might cure a growing attachment he felt for a woman, since time spent together sometimes served to highlight a couple’s differences. With Dorian he knew that wouldn’t be the case. And although he looked forward to delivering every sensual promise he’d made to her, he had the feeling he would be sticking by her side for more than just tomorrow.

  DORIAN BLINKED HER WAY through sleep the next morning to hear Simon’s voice talking in low and urgent tones.

  The sound brought back a wealth of memories from the night before that had her smiling before her eyes even opened. Simon whispering darkly erotic suggestions in her ear while he teased her to completion out on the balcony. Simon shouting his own release in the shower after she’d poured champagne down his shaft to celebrate his commendable staying power after their fifth go-round. She now knew room service would bring condoms to the high-roller suites upon request.

  She loved Las Vegas.

  The sentiment surprised her suddenly as she realized what a departure last night had been for her. She’d always been so cautious with her sexuality, not sharing herself with anyone unless…it meant something special.

  She pried her eyes fully open to find sunlight spilling over her naked body swathed in a sheet like the toga-wearing figures in frescoes all around them. Simon and all his unorthodox ways had become important to her almost without her realizing it, her feelings for him so wrapped up in hurt about that night a year ago that she hadn’t questioned what might be lying beneath her embarrassment at being walked out on. Last night, apparently, she’d discovered her emotions went deeper than that or she would have never given herself so completely to Simon.

  Had she even considered how difficult it might be to have a relationship with a man who didn’t believe in following a game plan and liked to shoot from the hip? Tension knotted at the base of her spine as she realized they hadn’t even finished their job together. Would she be able to work with a man who’d seen her with her guard completely down?

  “But you’re sure this guy knows Konstantinou?”

  Simon’s voice picked up volume in the other room, his words all the more meaningful since he was clearly discussing their case.

  She wrapped the sheet more tightly around her and slid off the bed, heading for the suite’s living area.

  “I can’t go to my deputy director with a bunch of hearsay. And, hell, I won’t even get the casino’s help on this one if there’s a basketball star involved. You know how much status professional athletes bring to this city?” Simon sat on the arm of the sofa with his cell phone cradled against his shoulder while he worked on his laptop.

  He’d dressed already, h
is white dress shirt unbuttoned to the waist, his khakis pressed and pleated. He flashed Dorian a brief smile as he spotted her, his gaze sliding south to take in her body wrapped in a bed sheet.

  “I know.” He shook his head at whatever the party on the other end of the phone was saying. “I know. And I appreciate this much. Thanks, bud.”

  Disconnecting the call, he set down his laptop and met her in the middle of the living room.

  “Did you find out anything?” She didn’t know the protocol for mingling work and pleasure, but right now she had to know what was happening with their case.

  “Nothing concrete.” He bent to brush his lips over hers. “Good morning.”

  She smiled. Possibly she blushed. Just the scent of him had her imagining what the day might be like if they had more time.

  They didn’t, of course. Time for the real world to return with a vengeance.

  “Morning.” She dropped into a low leather chaise across from the sofa. “What do you mean ‘nothing concrete’? I heard you talking about Konstantinou.”

  “I asked an informant friend to see what he came up with on this guy and his sources say Anatole is linked to some heavy-hitter sports stars, including a basketball player who hits Vegas often and put a private helicopter at Konstantinou’s disposal this week.”

  “Meaning he’s got a great vehicle to transport out his women if he’s our guy.” She knew the neighboring hotel had a helipad. Would Konstantinou try to use it as an escape after the party tonight? Or were they looking at the wrong man altogether?

  “If he’s our guy.” He spoke her thoughts aloud as he retrieved his laptop. “I don’t know how much backing we’ll get from your department, let alone the hotel, without concrete evidence.”

  “We’ll get police backup outside the party tonight, since we had evidence going into the weekend that significant black-market players would be congregating at the Pompeii. My chief backs the sting.” She wouldn’t let Pearson down after all the ways he’d supported her in the weeks following last year’s shooting. “But you’ve worked in this city long enough to know we’re not going to be able to shut down a helipad or question a professional athlete without tons of just cause. Vegas is too dependent on celebrity money and celebrity visibility.”

  “Right.” He turned the laptop monitor toward her so she could see what he’d been working on. A diagram of the Pompeii Hotel and Casino filled the screen. “That means we’ve got to be all the more vigilant about setting up our sting tonight. This is the penthouse suite where we’re slated to meet—”

  He paused midsentence, thumb pressed to the screen, as he turned toward her.

  “What?”

  “I can’t—That is, it would help if you’d put clothes on.” He kept his gaze rigidly on her face, but that didn’t stop her body from becoming ultra-aware of him. Her skin tingled beneath the sheet.

  “Good idea.” She couldn’t make tracks to the bedroom fast enough, grateful she’d moved a bag down here the day before. She didn’t have her outfit for the party tonight, but she had a T-shirt and shorts to tide her over until then.

  “Dorian?” He called to her before she reached the bedroom.

  “Yeah?” She gripped the sheet to her breasts, not daring to turn all the way around—her pulse quickening and her body humming in anticipation. They needed to think about work, not about getting naked again.

  “I hope you’ll wear that sheet for me again sometime after we’re done nailing these bastards.” The heat in his gaze was tempered with a sincerity she couldn’t help but recognize.

  Her heart turned over inside her, temporarily robbing her of speech. Did he honestly want to make an effort with her? To see her again when their lives were sorted out and danger didn’t dog their heels?

  Nodding, she tried not to trip over her feet—and a tangible hopefulness—as she went to dress. Simon’s Wildcard days might not be over, but maybe this case that had propelled her deep into the emotional terrain of her past would teach her some understanding for the man who pushed his career to the edge. If only they could make it through this one case, which meant so much to her—maybe then they could explore the possibility of a future.

  SIMON COULDN’T SHAKE the fear of something going wrong that night, as he knotted his necktie on the way up the elevator to Dorian’s room.

  If it was just him at stake in the operation, he wouldn’t care. He trusted his survival instincts and—to a certain extent—he’d always thrived on adrenaline. But tonight Dorian would be in the riskiest position. And although she’d probably be offended to know he was worried about her, he couldn’t shake the impending sense of disaster that had hounded him ever since he’d opened his eyes this morning.

  Not that he’d admitted as much to Dorian.

  The elevator chimed as it stopped on her floor an hour before the party was supposed to start. He knew the LVMPD would be getting into their positions around the penthouse floor to make sure the party was well monitored for security, but he couldn’t check out the preparations personally while undercover. Dorian ran a by-the-book mission and she wouldn’t appreciate his bending the rules to ease his mind, but the end result was that he felt restless. Edgy.

  Damn.

  Dorian’s door flew open before he knocked, throwing him further off his game.

  “Hi, baby.” She smiled with a siren’s calculated seduction. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  He recognized her call-girl tone that she’d probably trotted out to perpetuate their cover. The knowledge that her act was fake didn’t diminish his automatic response to her one bit.

  Blood sizzled in his veins as her gaze roamed over his whole body. Her hair was damp from a shower and a short satin robe clung to her curves. The scent of soap wafted off her skin.

  He followed that scent like a hound, crossing into her room on blind instinct. Reaching for her, he told himself he was only playing out his role the same way she played hers, in case anyone was watching them. The fact that his role involved touching her was a bonus.

  He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her, his body responding instantly to hers in the insubstantial robe. And hot damn but she was naked underneath it.

  The door to her room shut behind him and he bracketed her hips with his hands as he tasted her. He needed this connection with her before tonight so he could ease some of the sexual hunger….

  “Simon.”

  His name echoed in his ears and it took him a second to realize she’d leaned back and away from him.

  “What?” Releasing her instantly, he tried not to notice the way her breasts pressed against the confines of her robe.

  “Working girls don’t kiss with open mouths. You know that.” Her eyebrows pinched together in a worried frown. “Anyone watching might think—” She shrugged.

  “You’re right.” He took a step back, realizing his attraction to her had clouded his professional judgment. “Sorry.”

  “Did you see anyone in the hall?” The wrinkle between her eyes hadn’t quite disappeared.

  “No. Why? Do you think someone’s been following you?” The sense of impending danger returned and he wondered if Dorian’s cop radar twitched as much as his.

  “Matt Gaines—Tex—called me earlier to make sure I would be at the party tonight. He kept up the good-old-boy act, but it sounded a little more forced. I wondered if someone was pressuring him to produce a certain number of women for this gig.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself, a vulnerable gesture he’d never seen from her in a work environment before. She’d always been so tough, so controlled. He hated that she’d taken on a sting operation that hit so close to home.

  “We’re going to catch these bastards, Dor.” He traced her jawline with his fingers, careful not to indulge touches that might lead to an encounter they wouldn’t be able to walk away from.

  “Damn straight we will,” she agreed, her gaze meeting his with an intensity he hadn’t expected. “If we stick to the plan and don�
�t throw each other any surprises, we’ll make sure no more women disappear from Vegas.”

  His hand stilled on her cheek as he recognized her subtle way of laying down ground rules.

  “I know we don’t work the same way—”

  “We can for one night, can’t we?” She laid her hands on his chest, stepping farther into his reach when he was trying like hell to disconnect from his hunger for her.

  “Your safety is too important for me to promise this is going to happen the way you want it to. I can’t go into a tense cover with my hands tied behind my back.”

  Her touch fell away from him.

  “And you think that’s what I’m doing? Tying you down?”

  The phrase took on new meaning—a meaning he hadn’t meant to imply. Had he?

  “I can work as a team.” He just hadn’t found many opportunities to prove it. “But I happen to know that my ability to improvise in situations has propelled me out of a lot of hairy moments.”

 

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