by Misty Evans
She ran her hands inside his shirt, enjoying the ripple of muscles under her palms as he broke the kiss and sucked in his breath. He was so solid and strong, she wanted to sink her teeth into him.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pushed her body closer and he helped her, pressing on the small of her back to bring her into full contact with him.
She dug her fingers into his short hair, forcing his mouth down to hers. The kiss again became urgent and the heat in her stomach fanned out, spreading to her legs where they touched Lawson's, to her breasts buried against his chest. To her bottom that he was now cupping as he bent her backwards and slid his wet mouth down her neck.
His other hand held her head as he pushed her further back, the tip of his tongue touching the hollow of her throat. Her breath caught right there as she gazed up at the stars above them, and she held onto him for dear life. He brushed his lips back up to her ear and whispered her name, the heat of his breath sending another shudder through her.
He paused, looking down into her eyes. “Tell me what you want, Z,” he said, his voice low and rough.
She answered him strong and clear. “I want you."
Lawson tipped his head, looking heavenward. “Thank you, God.” He glanced down at her again. “Are you sure?"
Resting her hands on his gorgeous chest, Zara gave him a wicked smile. “It's stupid and completely unprofessional, but I've never been surer about anything in my life."
Lawson chuckled low in his throat. “From you, that's quite a testament."
Her heart was pounding with the sweet mixture of lust and dread and she wanted him to feel it. She took his hand and pressed it to her chest. He was heady passion wrapped around strength and kindness, a combination she couldn't have resisted even if she'd wanted to.
She didn't want to. Wherever Lawson was going to take her, whatever roller-coaster ride they were on, she wanted to go. She hoped somehow he would feel the pounding of her heart and understand.
He kissed her tenderly then, making love to her mouth under the moon and the stars. It was beautiful and romantic, but after a minute Zara wanted more. She didn't want him to treat her like she might break. She wanted him to treat her like the woman she was.
Sucking his tongue into her mouth, she teased him. A low moan sounded in his throat and the intensity of their kisses shot back up into the danger zone.
She moved his hand from her heart to her breast. His fingers closed over her and she sighed into his mouth. His hand felt good there, but it wasn't enough. She wanted it on her bare skin. As if he read her mind, he pushed the spaghetti strap of her dress off her shoulder, peeling the white fabric down to free her breast. He cupped it again. “Jesus,” he whispered, “you're so soft."
The touch of his rough palm on her sensitive breast made the breath rush from her lungs. She tugged the other spaghetti strap off her shoulder, and he helped her pull the top of the dress down to her waist. His free hand closed over her other breast and his mouth again took hers. She slanted her head and fed him short hot kisses, running her hands over every part of his body she could touch. His hair, his face, his shoulders. She tangled her fingers in the short, curly hair of his chest and gently scratched her nails down his corrugated stomach.
His mouth broke free and he murmured in her ear, “Let's go back to my room."
The lust inside her was coiled so tight, Zara had almost forgotten where they were. “Why?"
"So I can make love to you properly.” He took her hand in his and stepped back.
Even after everything they'd been through, Lawson still thought of her as a pampered rich girl. Someone who had to have a nice bed under her so she could lay back and let the man do all the work. Someone who didn't want her hair mussed up or her makeup kissed off.
The hell with that. She resisted, planting her feet, and tugged him back to her. She didn't want anything about this encounter to be proper. She wanted wild, sweaty, curl-your-toes, scream-your-lungs-out sex and she wanted it right there on the roof of Villa Bernier.
"We do it here, Vaughn,” she said, licking her swollen lips, “or we don't do it at all."
He raised a brow at her challenge and his eyes did a slow sweep of her naked upper half. “I wouldn't want to ruin that pretty dress."
Zara thought about it for a moment, looking down at the folds of white silk covering her legs. It would be a shame to wreck such a wonderful dress, but...
"Forget the dress. I can replace it if necessary."
A sensual smile danced on his mouth and he stepped toward her. “You had to think about it."
She took a step back. “It is a Valentino."
"It could be a blue-light special and you'd still look like a million bucks.” He took another step toward her and the same carnal expression she'd seen at dinner crossed his face. “Now take it off."
She licked her lips again and turned, presenting her back to him. “Unzip me?"
His fingers touched her back and before she could suck in her breath, the zipper separated and the Valentino pooled at her feet. A soft whistle emanated from between Lawson's teeth and she almost giggled.
He skimmed her shoulder blades with the tips of his fingers and slowly traveled down her spine to the top of her butt. “Jesus,” he murmured into her hair, his warm breath falling on the top of her shoulders. “I never would have made it through dinner if I'd known you weren't wearing anything under that dress."
As he turned her around, she hugged his neck, bringing her mouth up to meet his and arching into him. He grasped her bottom and lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. One shoe and then the other dropped off her feet.
Walking her backwards a few steps, Lawson deposited her on the ornate Italian marbled tabletop, his gaze roaming over her naked skin. His hands followed, touching her all over.
Zara's lust was now tight inside her. A wonderful feeling, it was also terrifying and overwhelming in its intensity. She sat forward, grabbing Lawson's shirt and peeling it off his shoulders and down his arms. “Your turn."
He stepped back, stripped down to nothing and stood naked in front of her. Moonlight touched the tops of his shoulders. The Greek God statues in the garden below had nothing on him. His solid muscles and impressive proportions were enough to make a grown woman giddy with anticipation.
"I want you,” he said, stepping between her legs and bringing his face down to hers so their noses touched. “But I want to be damned sure this is what you want too."
She whispered against his lips, “This is what we both want. Get to it."
"Yes, ma'am.” He kissed a trail down her neck to the pulse beating in the hollow. He continued his descent, kissing her nipples, then licking them and sucking each one into his mouth as his fingers slipped between her legs. She opened herself up to him and gasped as those fingers touched her with demanding strokes, making her greedy for more. She lay back on the tabletop, feeling the cool night air replace Lawson's mouth on her breasts as he let her go.
His attention traveled over her entire body and then he smiled. A smile so masculine the hairs on the back of her neck stood straight up. When he dipped his head and kissed her navel, goose bumps rose all over her body. She sank her hands into his hair, as soft as her mother's sable cape, and laughed into the night air.
A second later, the laughter stuck in her throat as Lawson moved lower. He spread her legs and kissed her between them, his warm mouth making her swear under her breath and grasp the edges of the table.
White-hot currents shot through her from head to toe, tingling her breasts, her stomach, her legs. She closed her eyes as Lawson used his tongue and mouth to pull moans from her and coax her toward orgasm. “I haven't even gotten to touch you yet,” she whispered.
He withdrew his mouth a micron, his breath sending more goose bumps racing over her skin. “We've got the rest of the night, Zara. The op plan is for you to enjoy every minute of it."
Reaching down, she grabbed his hair and pulled his face up to her
s. “It's been a long dry spell for me in this area. I want you inside me. Now."
He chuckled. “You're the boss."
"Finally, you let me be in charge."
As he moved away, she rose up on her elbows to see what he was doing. He snatched his pants from the ground and shoved his hand into one of the pockets. Withdrawing a foiled wrapper, he ripped it open and proceeded to glove himself with a condom.
"Do you carry condoms on every mission?” she asked without thinking. Probably she didn't want to know.
"No.” He returned to the spot between her legs. “There was a box in my top dresser drawer along with the packaged underwear. Extra-large, ultra-thin. C'est très bien, non?"
Zara laughed at his awful accent and wrapped her hand around him. “Ahh,” she said, loving the way he felt. “C'est très superbe!"
Her body only accepted him so far before it resisted. She held onto his shoulders as he rocked his hips, slowly pushing his way farther and farther into her. Finally her muscles relaxed and let him bury himself all the way to the hilt.
"How's that?” he whispered against her cheek.
The nerve endings in her body screamed for more, and she shifted, grinding her pelvis into him. “Move.” She grabbed his buttocks and pressed him down. “I need you to move."
He did, slipping in and out in a slow, even rhythm. She moved with him, but it still wasn't enough. She rocked her hips harder. “Stop teasing me."
Lawson rocked faster and harder as he delved into her again and again. She met each thrust with her own, her breath coming out in choppy gasps as the first wave of orgasm hit her. She threw her head back as wave after edgy wave rippled under her skin, sucking all the air from her lungs.
As her orgasm pulsed around him, he slowed the rhythm again, teasing out her pleasure. She clung to him and when his ragged breathing mixed with hers and he buried himself fully to her core one last time, she held him close and whispered his name.
In the aftermath, she stared up at the heavens as Lawson's heartbeat tripped hers into its solid rhythm.
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Chapter Twenty-Five
He couldn't stop touching her.
Zara slept on her stomach in Lawson's bed, her head half-buried in the pillow, her backside completely uncovered by the sheet, affording him an uncompromised view.
The sun was rising, one strip of light running the length of her body, illuminating her face, one arm and a thigh. He lightly traced the landscape of her shoulder blades with his finger, watching her slow, steady breathing raise and lower her rib cage. His fingers walked down her spine.
Sex on the rooftop had been a fast and explosive couple of minutes that left him barely able to walk when it was over. He had wanted it slower, wanted Zara to be comfortable so he could take his time and draw out her pleasure. But she kept demanding a different agenda and he had to admit, in the end he hadn't minded a bit. The sex had been amazing.
Afterwards, he'd put her in the shower and washed her from head to toe, soaping her slowly and studying every curve of her body while he sorted through his feelings for her. At dinner he'd realized there was something more than physical attraction stirring his gut every time he looked at her. More than her big blue eyes and her even bigger attitude.
He liked the way she was up for every challenge he handed her. The way she refused to take his bullshit without giving a healthy dose of it back to him. The way she wasn't letting her past interfere with her future.
He liked how she defended her point of view with passion and substance. She knew what she was talking about whether the topic was fashion or war, and she could argue anyone into the ground about either.
He'd known before she knocked on his door last night that he wanted more than sex from her. The fantasy had already turned into something else. Something deeper and far scarier than anything he'd ever faced on any mission, air, ground or sea.
His gut had warned him one night with her wouldn't be enough. Their mission might last another week, maybe longer, but now he knew even that wasn't enough time. He wanted more. He just wasn't sure how much more, and he wasn't sure how much Zara was willing to give him.
He palmed one of her butt cheeks, and she grabbed his wrist, tried to push him away. Sleep made her voice husky. “Don't you ever rest, Vaughn?"
He kept his hand where it was and gave a little squeeze. “Never.” He leaned over and planted a kiss between her shoulder blades.
She shivered under his lips. “You've got to get over this Superman complex,” she said into her pillow. “You're killing me."
He planted another kiss on her back, lower. “Too much for you, huh?"
"That's not what I meant.” She started to roll over, but Lawson moved down her body and pinned her legs underneath his arms. He placed his open mouth on one beautiful butt cheek and sucked her cool, smooth skin into it.
She gasped. “Easy,” she said over her shoulder. “I don't like pain."
He moved his mouth to the other butt cheek and repeated the process, enjoying her wiggle as she tried to escape. Then he released her legs and, as expected, she rolled over and sat up. She stretched and pulled her knees to her chest.
He propped himself up on one elbow as she raked her hands through her tousled hair. “I would never hurt you, Zara."
Her hand stilled. She looked away from him, embarrassed, and scanned the room. Her attention landed on the Valentino hanging on the armoire. A tiny smiled curved her mouth. “You hung up my dress."
"I knew it was important to you."
Her gaze came back to his. “That's so sweet."
Lawson wasn't sure he'd ever been described as sweet—he sure as hell wouldn't want the guys of Pegasus to hear that—but coming from Zara it sounded nice. For her, he'd be as sweet as his mama's peach preserves. “My mother tried to raise me to be a gentleman,” he said, putting a bit of southern Georgia into his words. “I guess her hard work must a done some good."
"Seems to me your mother did a fine job teaching you to be considerate of others.” Moving toward him, she nudged his hand out from under his head and pushed him over on his back. She straddled him, leaning forward so her face was only a whisper above his. “Your benevolence is downright sexy. Makes me hot."
Running his hands over her thighs, he took stock of his benevolent arsenal. “Did I ever tell you about the time I rescued the president from a terrorist and stopped a ticking nuclear warhead?"
Zara shifted her hips and took him in her hand. “My hero.” She brushed her lips over his, stroking him at the same time. “You deserve a special reward for all the good work you've done."
Her lips moved to his jaw, to the hollow of his throat, to his collarbone. Her velvet hand continued to stroke him in a steady rhythm. “In fact, I never thanked you properly for supposedly saving my life. You get big points for that."
"Supposedly?"
She kissed his bellybutton and proceeded to go lower. Lawson closed his eyes as her warm, wet mouth replaced her hand.
"No thanks necessary,” he said, although he wasn't sure why he would say such a thing at the moment.
Her mouth left him. “Really? You don't want to be recognized for a job well done? You don't want me to make you feel appreciated?"
Jesus, she was such a tease. Of course he wanted her thanks if it involved her mouth returning to its previous spot. He drew in a deep breath and opened his eyes to look at her. He liked the way her blonde hair contrasted against his tanned legs and darker hair. “A man always likes to know he's appreciated."
Low, husky laughter matched the carnal female look she gave him. “Then lay back, Lawson, and relax, ‘cuz I've got a boatload of appreciation to show you."
When it was over a few minutes later, Lawson was sure he'd just had something akin to a religious experience. Zara had done things that had both amazed and impressed him. He'd tried to give her back as much as he took, but it had been all he could do to remember to breathe.
He'd closed h
is eyes to block the beauty of her arched back and her compact butt riding him. He'd tried to concentrate on something besides how tight and warm she felt inside. He'd tried to shut his ears to her moans and whispers.
Even with his eyes closed and his mind trying to remember all the names of his pet dogs he'd had as a child, he just couldn't distract himself enough. So instead, he'd opened his eyes and enjoyed the view.
Now he was still trying to get air into his lungs as she slid her body next to him. “Jesus H. Christ,” he mumbled.
Laying her head on his chest, she tangled her fingers in his chest hair and laughed. “Did you like it?"
"I think I just died and went to heaven."
"Good.” She smiled against his chest before slinging one of her legs across his waist and running a hand over his biceps.
There would come a day in the not-too-distant future when she'd be out of his reach again. When they left this little fantasy land of Villa Bernier behind and returned to their normal lives. He would go back to tracking people down for the CIA or the FBI or whoever needed him, and she would probably be back in Paris running agents. The only way he'd see her again would be if he went to wherever she was.
And he would probably do it. At that moment he knew that even if Zara never wanted to see him again, he would still fly anywhere in the world to be near her. He would even force himself to sit through a ballet performance if it meant being in the same room.
Wrapping his arm around her, he pulled her closer. For now she was here with him and he could touch her and hold her to his heart's content. He wasn't the kind of man to let such an opportunity pass him by. “I can't get enough of you,” he murmured into her hair. “I'm at your mercy."
She raised her head to look at him. “Really? Most of the time I can't decide if this partner thing is working for either of us."