Deadly Intent

by Pamela Clare

  Heads nodded.

  Jack went on. “You don’t have to talk about what happened last night unless you want to. I just wanted you to know that you’re safe here with us. We want you to heal and relax while you’re here, so please let us know if there’s anything we can do for you.”

  Mia’s throat went tight. “Thank you. I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you left room for dessert.” Jack got to his feet. “I baked a chocolate cake.”

  “He makes a mean chocolate cake, too,” Joaquin said.

  The cake was delicious, and soon it was Mia who needed a nap. She and Joaquin had just thanked Jack and the others for the meal and their hospitality when Jack’s phone buzzed.

  “What’s up?” He scowled. “Huh. Well, hell. Let ’em in.”

  He ended the call, his blue eyes looking into Mia’s. “There are a couple of FBI agents at the gate. They want to ask you some questions.”

  Mia’s stomach dropped. Were they here about the case—or were they investigating her for divulging information?

  Janet touched her hand to her husband’s arm. “They’re just doing their jobs.”

  Jack gave a noncommittal “hmph” and got to his feet.

  Nate grinned. “My old man has no love for feds—except for the woman he married.”

  Mia stared at Janet. “You’re a federal agent?”

  Janet nodded, her lips curving into a smile, as if this were funny. “I’m a former FBI special agent. Jack once threw me off his property.”

  “She’s exaggerating!” Jack shouted back to them.

  Joaquin took Mia’s hand. “It’s going to be okay.”

  Mia wasn’t so sure.

  15

  Joaquin sat on the sofa in the cabin, Mia leaning back against his chest, glasses of wine in their hands, a fire crackling in the woodstove.

  “They thanked me,” Mia said. “Then Shoals—he’s the tall one—told me that I had been a big help and that I should contact them if anything else came up. Shoals said he thought I was a hero. I wish people would stop saying that.”

  Joaquin kissed the top of Mia’s head. “Does that seem so strange to you?”

  “I haven’t done anything special. I reported people who were flagrantly breaking the law, and I fired a few shots at a guy who was trying to kill me—and missed.”

  “Oh, that’s all.”

  But she didn’t seem to get his sarcasm. “I should have been paying attention. I should have had my weapon out. I—”

  He pressed his fingertips to her lips. “Shhh. Don’t blame yourself. Nothing you did or didn’t do is to blame here.”

  “But if I’d been paying attention…” Her words trailed off.

  That reminded him. “Hey, what were those Spanish phrases you were trying to learn anyway?”

  He glanced down, watched a blush creep into her cheeks.

  “They were supposed to be a surprise.”

  “Yeah? Let’s hear it.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Oh, come on. I’ve seen you in your underwear. You can tell me anything now.”

  She craned her neck, looked up at him. “You’re going to think I’m an idiot.”

  “I would never think that.”

  “Okay.” She frowned as if trying to remember. “Tócame.”

  Touch me?

  ¡Aye, bendito! Good God!

  Joaquin’s night had just gotten a whole lot more interesting. He’d been expecting buenas días or cómo estás or dónde esta el baño, not something flirty or sexual. He found himself grinning like an idiot. “That was … good. Anything else?”

  “Te deseo.” I want you.

  He fought to rein in his reaction. This was a language lesson, nothing more. It didn’t matter what his dick thought. “Bien. Well done.”

  She went on. “Quiero arrancarte la ropa.”

  ¡Carajo! Holy shit.

  “You do know what you’re saying, right?”

  She nodded, then hit him with another one. “Eres el hombre más sexy que he cono… cono … I can’t remember the last word.”

  “Conocido.” Joaquin cleared his throat. “Yeah. That was … uh… good.”

  A surge of tenderness washed over him. Mia had been distracted last night because she’d been thinking of him. She’d been trying to do something sweet and sexy for him when that fucker had walked up behind her and opened fire.

  Joaquin was struck again by how close it had been. Mia could so easily have been killed. Wu and the FBI needed to catch that son of a bitch—and soon. Had they even questioned Powell? Joaquin didn’t want to think about that now, not when Mia had opened the evening to more interesting ideas.

  “I’m touched that you did this for me.” He took her wine glass and set it with his on the coffee table. “If you want a language lesson, hermosa, you only have to ask.”

  He sat up, and, careful not to bump her injuries, turned her in his arms, drawing her across his lap so that she straddled him.

  She gave a little gasp, her arms going around his neck.

  “Sí.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “Right now, I want to kiss you. A kiss is un beso. If that’s what you want, too, say bésame. Kiss me.”

  Her pupils dilated. “Bésame.”

  He brushed his lips over hers, contact igniting the desire he’d tried hard to ignore these past few days. He willed himself to go slowly, tasting her, testing her with his tongue, letting her anticipation build. She gave an impatient little whimper, slid her fingers into his hair, drew him closer. He answered by taking her mouth with his, her lips pliant, her body soft against him.

  God, she tasted good. She felt good, too, her body so different from his, the feel of her sending blood to his groin.

  Now she was kissing him back, challenging him, stealing control of the kiss, then melting in his arms when he stole it back. There was nothing cold or hard or aloof about Mia. She was soft and sweet and hot and eager.

  “Joaquin.” She must have felt his hard-on, because she flexed her hips and pressed herself against him, moaning against his mouth.

  His entire body tensed.

  Joaquin broke the kiss, held her cheeks between his palms. “How far do you want to go with this, Mia? I don’t want to rush you, and I don’t want you to do anything you don’t really want to do just to please me. I can wait.”

  “I can’t. I want you, Joaquin. Please tell me you brought condoms.”

  Her words made his pulse skip.

  He saw the longing in her eyes, felt it down to his bones. He reached for his camera bag and pulled out a small foil package. “I grabbed a fistful from the big bowl of free condoms they had at the hospital.”

  She laughed and took it from him, her lips curving in a sexy smile that hit Joaquin in the solar plexus. “Way to plan ahead.”

  Some part of Mia thought she must be dreaming as Joaquin got to his feet, scooped her into his arms, and carried her to the bedroom.

  He set her on her feet beside the bed, ran his thumb along her lower lip. “I want to undress you.”

  She nodded, trying to ignore the voice in her head that told her that he would be disappointed, that she wasn’t sexy.

  “Relax.” He slid his hands beneath her pullover, lifted it over her head, tossed it aside. “Oh, Mia.”

  His eyes went dark, his gaze moving over her. He reached out, cupped the bandage on her ribs, then he dropped to his knees and pressed a light kiss to the skin just above the bandage on her hip. “Lo siento, Mia. I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  The tenderness of the gesture caught her off guard, made her chest constrict.

  “I’ll be okay.”

  “No.” He looked up at her, his intensity taking her by surprise. “I don’t want you to be okay. I want you to be happy. I want you to feel cherished. I want to make you scream.”

  Her breath caught, something fluttering deep in her belly. Did he want her permission for that? “Okay.”

  For som
e reason that made him chuckle. He caught the waistband of her yoga pants and drew them down her legs, wrapping a strong arm around her to help her keep her balance as she stepped out of them and kicked them aside.

  He’d seen her like this yesterday. He’d seen her wearing nothing but panties and a bra, but that had been different. It hadn’t been sexual.

  He got to his feet again, slid his hand into her hair, and tilted her face upward for a kiss, speaking to her just before their lips touched. “You’re beautiful, Mia.”

  His mouth closed over hers in a kiss that left her breathless and made her knees go weak. Seriously? A kiss could do that?

  Somehow, she managed to tear her lips from his. “I want to undress you, too.”

  He was breathing as hard as she was, his lips wet and swollen. He released her, took a step backward, offering himself to her. “I’m all yours.”

  She unbuttoned his shirt with shaky hands and slipped it over his shoulders, leaving him to pull it down his arms while she indulged herself, exploring his chest, his pecs, his obliques, all that delicious muscle shifting beneath her palms, his skin like silk. “I love how you feel.”

  “Feel all you want.”

  She glanced up, a thrill shivering through her to find him watching her, a faint smile on his lips. Holding his gaze, she reached down, unzipped his fly and slid her hands between his underwear and his ass, pushing all that irritating fabric down his hips and freeing his erection. He took over from there, bending down to shuck his jeans and boxer briefs. And then he stood naked before her.

  God, he was beautiful, his body so muscular and lean, his cock rising thick and hard from black curls, his testicles heavy and full. If she’d been an artist and someone had asked her to draw the perfect male nude, she would have drawn this.

  She would have drawn Joaquin.

  He took a step toward her, rested his hands on her waist, then brushed the knuckles of his right hand slowly up her left side, his touch turning her skin to gooseflesh. His hand found its way to her bra clasp in back, and her bra sprang free.

  She caught it, held the lace cups to her breasts, a sudden rush of insecurity leaving her self-conscious.

  He looked into her eyes, took hold of the bra, and pulled it slowly out of her hands, dropping it onto the floor. Then he caught her hands with his, his gaze burning over her, making her exposed nipples tighten. “Mia.”

  He pulled her against him and kissed her, their bodies pressed together, her breasts against his chest. His hands found their way beneath her panties to cup her bottom. He lifted her off her feet, turned with her in his arms, and laid her back on the bed, pulling off her panties with a single deft motion.

  For a moment, he stood there, looking down at her, his smoky gaze moving over her body like a caress, the hunger on his face making her heart beat harder. He said something in Spanish that she didn’t understand. Then he stretched out beside her and cupped her left breast, his thumb teasing its already tight nipple, sending jagged little bolts of arousal into her belly. “Does that feel good?”

  “Yes.”

  He kept it up until she was all but writhing beneath his touch. Then he lowered his mouth to her nipple—and suckled her.

  Mia drew in a breath, her fingers sliding into his hair, nothing on her mind now but how Joaquin made her feel. The heat of his mouth. The sweet tug of his lips. The stroke of his tongue. She ached for him already, ached to have him inside her.

  No man had ever made her feel like this—desperate, on edge, out of control.

  Then he switched to her other breast, one of his hands sliding down her belly to cup her, nudging her thighs apart with his hand. “Let me in, angel.”

  She bent one knee, opening herself to him, her body humming with arousal, the anticipation almost killing her.

  He explored her, finding and teasing her clit with slow strokes until Mia thought she would go out of her mind. Then he slid two fingers inside her, his thumb pressing circles to her clit as he stroked her inside and out.

  Oh, it felt good. It felt so good.

  “Joaquin.” She found herself moaning in time to his motions, her nails digging into his forearm. “God, don’t stop.”

  She could come from this. She knew she could—if he just gave her time.

  He chuckled. “I could do this forever.”

  He kept up the rhythm, his mouth moving from one nipple to the other and back again while she slowly unraveled, pleasure burning white hot inside her, stripping away her self-control, nothing in her heart or mind but Joaquin and what he was doing to her.

  She came with a cry, climax washing through her like a tide of bliss. Joaquin stayed with her, prolonging her pleasure with clever fingers, keeping up the rhythm until she was spent. When she finally came back to herself, she found him watching her through eyes gone black.

  Joaquin watched the ecstasy on Mia’s face relax into contentment, a knot in his chest. God, he loved her—loved her, wanted her, was out of his mind over her. He hadn’t planned this, but here he was—head over heels with a woman he’d known for one week.

  Then again, it had been one hell of a week.

  He wasn’t sure she would understand if he told her. She had such a skewed notion of herself and not much experience with close relationships. Maybe she’d spent too many years in uniform dealing with Powell’s harassment to see how special she was. If only she could see herself the way Joaquin did.

  He withdrew his hand from between her legs, his fingers drenched from her climax, and circled a still-puckered nipple with her juices, her musky scent filling his head. He lowered his mouth to her breast, flicked his tongue over that nipple, taking her taste into his mouth. Oh, he wanted more of that. “Mmm.”

  She smiled up at him, a shy kind of smile, then twisted, reaching for the condom. She tore it open, but he took it from her and set it aside on the bed.

  “There’s no hurry.” He kissed her breastbone, licked her nipple again. “When I’m inside you, I want you to enjoy it as much as I do.”

  “I’ve never been able to come like that.”

  “There’s a first time for everything.”

  Watch it, amigo. Don’t get cocky.

  He had learned long ago that the secret to satisfying women in bed was actually paying attention to them, seeing what they liked, and not assuming that their sun rose and set on his dick. Women were different than men when it came to sex. A guy could finish in two minutes and call it good. While there were probably women who got off like that, most would find it to be a major disappointment.

  His Tío Danilo had once told him that women were like flowers. If given the proper attention, they would open and share their beauty in their own time, but without the right care, they would wilt while still buds and never bloom. They hadn’t been talking about sex—Joaquin had been all of ten years old—but Danilo’s words certainly applied in the bedroom.

  “In Spanish, your name means mine. Isn’t that convenient?” He kissed her breastbone, felt her heartbeat beneath his lips. “‘Eres Mia’ means ‘You are Mia.’ But lowercase with an accent on the ‘i’, eres mía could mean ‘you are my woman.’”

  She gave him a drowsy, sexy smile. “That’s fun.”

  “I think so.” He knew she would be hypersensitive, so he started small, nibbling the undersides of her breasts, tickling the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, skimming her puckered nipples with the flat of his palm.

  She began to revive, her desire stirring again.

  When she seemed ready, he reached between her thighs, using what he had learned about her to bring her to the brink once more, her nails digging into his arm, her eyes closed, her breathing rapid. “Joaquin, please.”

  He took the condom out of its package, rolled it down his length, then settled himself between her thighs, mindful of her injuries. “Open your eyes, Mia. Look at me.”

  She did as he asked, her eyes looking into his as he entered her, penetrating her with a single, slow thrust that made them both moan.<
br />
  Oh, she was heaven.

  “God, Mia.” He fought to rein in his need, giving her a moment to get used to him. Then he started to move in deep, slow strokes. “Does this feel good?”

  She didn’t answer, her eyes drifting shut, her lips parting.

  He’d take that as an emphatic yes.

  He kept his rhythm slow, willed himself to stay relaxed, wanting to make this last, to give her the time she needed. But she was so tight and hot, and it had been a long time since he’d been with a woman.

  He might have tried to ride her high, rubbing his cock against her clit, but he was afraid that would put pressure on the wound near her hip. Instead, he withdrew from her, raised himself up and sat back on his heels, wrapping her legs around his waist.

  Her eyes flew open. “What…?”

  But her question turned into a moan as he entered her again, rocking into her with deep thrusts, his hands now free to play.

  He saw that she was watching what was happening between her thighs, an expression of blatant hunger on her face. No, she was watching his abs contract and release as he drove into her.

  Mia liked muscle? That was fine with him.

  He glanced down, too, and almost came right then, the sight of his cock moving in and out of her, stretching her, filling her, almost too erotic to handle, her pussy bright pink beneath that thatch of red curls, her delicate inner lips like petals.

  Relájate. Relax.

  He reached down, toyed with her, stroking her clit just the way she liked it. It wasn’t long before she was at the edge, her hands fisted in the sheets, her skin flushed, her knees bent and drawn back. Dios mío, she was beautiful like this—strung out on sex, not worried, not even thinking.

  Her eyes flew open, went wide. “Oh, my God, Joaquin.”

  His name became a cry as a second orgasm took her, the bliss on her face straining his tattered self-control. He fought to stay with her, to drive her pleasure home, but he was too far gone now, her inner muscles contracting around his cock.

  He shifted again, stretching himself over her, holding himself off her so as not to hurt her. Then he let himself go, driving himself into her until climax overtook him, shattering the world around him and turning everything to light.