She straightened and cast the shorts aside. Her panties matched the bra. Pink lace. Very tiny. Her waist was much smaller than the jeans let on. She was stunning. And he was seconds away from cardiac arrest.
He took a deep steadying breath. “Okay, hold on.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t give me that innocent look.”
She made a face and quietly shushed him. She crooked her finger for him to come closer.
No way. He took a step back.
She whispered, “I thought you had something to say.”
He tried keeping his eyes face level. Not in this lifetime. His gaze had a will of its own, running the length of her body, lingering on her perfect thighs. She worked out, that was certain, but not so much that she was too muscled.
And he noticed she really was a true blonde.
She moved toward him and he knew he should discourage any contact, but he wasn’t sure he was capable. As it was, he didn’t have to worry. She stopped half a foot away and looked expectantly at him.
He told himself not to look at her breasts. He didn’t listen. His gaze dove down her tempting cleavage. Beneath the thin silk, her nipples pearled and strained against the fabric.
What would she do if he reached for the clasp, freed her breasts, took the tips in his mouth?
Shit, this wasn’t good. This was trouble. “Would you explain why you—” He cleared his throat, remembered to keep his voice low. “Why you—” He waved a hand, gesturing to her seminudity.
She lifted her shoulder in a casual shrug calling attention to her breasts. “It’s part of our exercise.”
“And you’re willing to go along with Mary Jane’s instructions?”
“To some degree. If she pays us a visit we’d better be prepared.”
“That’s why I locked the door.”
She smiled. “Wouldn’t it be simpler to get in bed and pretend we’re…you know, getting cozy?”
The fit of his jeans was getting more uncomfortable by the second. “What are you up to?”
“Me?” Her eyes widened. “What?”
“You were the one so concerned about how, shall we say, realistic our performances had to be.” Was he really trying to talk her out of this?
“Yes? And?”
“So what the hell are you doing?”
She frowned. “Keep it down.” She got closer and whispered, “I’m sure you’ve seen a woman in her underwear before.”
“No, this is my first time,” he joked, trying to take his mind off his erection.
“Go ahead, be sarcastic and flip. I’m used to your defensiveness.”
“My what?” He was about to tell her what a kook she was, but she raised a hand for silence and let out a loud, sensual groan.
She closed her eyes. “Ooh, baby, that feels so good.” And then she opened them and asked in a much quieter, less throatier voice, “What were you going to say?”
He stared at her, totally speechless.
She shrugged a shoulder and whispered, “Just in case anyone’s listening.”
He continued to stare, for the life of him, unable to remember what he’d been about to say.
“You know, the carafe has been refilled,” she whispered apparently oblivious to his amazement. “So it isn’t as if anyone tried to hide the fact they were in the room. Of course that would be pretty smart. Are we going to stand here for the next two hours, or can we…get comfortable?”
Obviously a rhetorical question because she immediately headed for the bed. His gaze riveted to the slight sway of her hips. No thong, but her panties were so skimpy it showed off plenty of curvy flesh. How the hell did she expect him to have a normal conversation with her?
Oh, yeah. He recalled now what he’d been saying. “What are you doing?”
She put a frantic finger to her lips and motioned him closer as she sat on the edge of the bed and reached over to turn on the radio, he figured to muffle their whispers.
He had no choice but to comply if they wanted to have a decent conversation over the oldies station she found. As if anything they discussed would make any sense. His jeans had grown uncomfortably tight and she’d have to be blind not to notice.
Just as he gingerly sat about a foot away from her, she let out another one of her loud, sexy, throaty groans. “Oh, yes, honey, right there. Oh, baby, don’t stop. Oh, yes, yes. Again.”
She blinked at him, looking as if she’d simply informed him of the time of day.
Dalton realized he’d been holding his breath and let it out slowly. “You do that too well. It’s damned scary.”
She smiled. “Most women can.”
“Right.” A sobering thought. His gaze drifted downward, lingering on the way her nipples poked at the pink lace. Shit! This wasn’t going to work. He got up, but she caught his hand and tugged him back down.
“Dalton…” She leaned forward and kissed his jaw. “Take off your shirt.”
Bad idea. He pulled the polo over his head so fast he heard one of the buttons pop. “I already explained. I don’t mix business with pleasure.”
“I know.” She kissed him briefly on the lips and put her hand on his chest.
“So what exactly are we doing?” he asked, beginning to care less and less.
“This is business.” She kissed him again, too briefly and then leaned back and said, “Just a minute.”
This time her moaning was even more sensual, more heart-stopping. She even threw in a head toss as she cried out, “I can’t take it. Stop. No, don’t. Oh, oh, baby, oh, you don’t know what you’re doing to me.” She delivered three throaty pants followed by a smile and a shrug.
She cocked her head to the side and whispered, “It wouldn’t hurt if you made some noise, too.”
He squinted at her. “Why the sudden change in attitude?”
She pressed her palm against his chest and made little circles until his nipple responded. “I don’t know. I figure there might as well be perks with the job. It’s not like it would hurt anything. Make our roles more believable if nothing else.”
“Ah.” Brilliant comeback, Styles. “What about the distraction thing?” Another sultry look like the one she just gave him, and he wouldn’t give a shit about anything.
“We’re supposed to be distracted right now. By each other.” She let the side of her hand trail down the shallow valley between his nipples toward the waistband of his shorts. “Besides, we’re stuck in the room. There’s not much else we can do.”
God, he wanted to see her breasts. Without the bra. He wanted to close his mouth around her nipples, suck her like a lollipop. “Cassie…” His voice came out ragged and broken. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
She pushed up against him, her breasts rubbing his chest and her tongue touching his lips. He opened his mouth and drew her tongue inside and ran his hands down the soft skin over her rib cage, the indention of her waist, the curve of her hip.
He moaned when she cupped his erection and stroked his cock through his shorts. He toyed with the leg elastic of her panties, slipping a finger inside until it met soft springy hair. She stiffened slightly as he stroked her gently.
“Cassie, honey, take off your bra.”
She drew back without dislodging his hand and regarded him through glazed eyes. Her lips were moist and shiny, her flushed cheeks making her eyes incredibly blue. “What if this doesn’t work? It’ll affect our attitude toward each other.”
“Huh?” The bra looked as if it had a front clasp, but everything was so small these days you couldn’t always tell.
“Are you listening to me?”
“What?”
“Dalton.”
He looked into her eyes and saw doubt. Big time. He continued his soft strokes, petting her like a tamed kitten. “What’s wrong?”
“I know I started this…” She nibbled her lower lip and swiped at her tangled hair.
He brushed it away from her cheek with his free hand. “But you think it’s a mistake,
” he finished for her.
“No.” She pressed her lips together. “I have no idea why I—” She groaned. “I don’t even like you. I don’t.”
“Thanks.”
She looked away, her face filling with color. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m not myself.”
“This is an odd situation. We’ve been thrown together among a group of kooks, who are all strangers. That sort of undermines the fact that we were strangers until five days ago. Now we’re sort of co-conspirators.” He shrugged, amazed that he could have this conversation while his fingers were between her legs and his mind was spinning. “We have only each other to speak freely, to trust, to understand what’s going on. Of course you might have feelings develop.”
She frowned. “You don’t.”
“What?”
“Have any feelings.”
He exhaled slowly. “Look, agents who go undercover are sometimes pulled off their assignment because they get too close to the people they’re supposed to be investigating. They get attached, disarmed by the perp’s human frailties. It’s natural.”
“Of course.” She looked down, and murmured, “So all this will pass after the case.”
“Sure.”
“So we just have to worry about looking like a real married couple.”
He frowned, not sure what she was getting at. It sounded a lot like rationalization. He nudged her chin up until their eyes met. “I’m only worried about the fastest way to get that bra off you. And not so I can do your laundry.”
That startled a laugh out of her.
“You have no idea what kind of wicked things I want to do to you.” To illustrate, he moved his finger an inch, to the cleft itself, already moist. He dipped inside, just for a second, although once he’d felt that wet velvet, it was all he could do not to rip their clothes off and take her.
She openly shivered, and her lips parted with a moan. He kissed them lightly, briefly, reminding himself this could be a big mistake. He should stop. He couldn’t.
“What about not mixing business with pleasure?”
“I figure this is both.” He found the clasp with his left hand and undid it, then pushed the lacy cups aside.
She gasped but didn’t resist when he palmed her breast. She was soft yet firm, her nipple so responsive, he thought he might come before he got his friggin’ pants off.
When she ran her hand over his erection, he knew he was in deep trouble. He lowered his mouth to her nipple and suckled it until she whimpered.
Still kissing her, he used his weight to lay her back, head on pillow, body open and ready for his next move. She tried to reach for his fly but he wouldn’t let her touch him. Not yet. Not until he’d had his fill of her.
If that were even possible.
The sudden thought rattled him.
This was a perk, mutual chemistry that would make their roles all the more believable. That’s all. No analysis necessary. She tasted so damn good….
A knock at the door made them both start.
“How are you two doing?” Incredibly, it was Mary Jane.
Cassie stiffened. “Can you believe her?”
“Don’t answer.” He sucked in her other nipple and slid his finger up until he found her clitoris.
Another knock. “Hey, you two had better not have fallen asleep.”
“We have to answer or she won’t go away.”
Dalton didn’t care. He’d just tune her out. What he was doing was much more important. He circled her nub, and Cassie squirmed beneath him.
“Cassie? Dalton? You don’t have much more time.”
Cassie opened her mouth as a slow smile curved her lips. She closed her eyes as he continued to stroke her, then, put a hand to her throat and let out a loud sexy moan. For real. “Oh, and, deeper, come on, deeper. Oh, oh…” She moaned again, and he let himself relax into her, circling her flesh insistently.
She whimpered, moaned, panted. “Don’t stop. Please, again, deeper this time. Oh, baby…” Something shifted. Her body tensed around him, and when he looked up, he saw her face and neck flush, her eyes closed. The tone of her moaning changed, deepened, and he smiled. Almost there.
He took her nipple gently between his teeth, and flicked his tongue at the same rapid tempo as his finger. He wanted her to come, to hear the real sounds of Cassie as she climaxed. He might just join her without even touching himself.
Her breathing quickened, her hands gripped the bedspread, and her muscles grew as taut as bowstrings. “Dalton, oh God. What are you— Please, right there. Just a little… Oh, God.”
He picked up the pace with his hand, and let up on her nipple so he could see her face. A second later, her body arched off the bed in a spasm. She cried out, inarticulate and so, so sweet. He was so turned on by her face, her moans, he felt like he was going to explode. But he held off. This was for Cassie.
Her hand went to his wrist, and he stopped rubbing her. But she didn’t stop shaking. Trembling. She opened her eyes and gave him a look of pure, unadulterated satisfaction.
He grinned, and that’s when her rosy flush turned crimson.
Maybe it had been a mistake. Maybe it hadn’t been good for the case. But dammit, he didn’t care. Now that he’d seen her like this, he was hooked. He’d make her come again. And again. Or die trying.
10
CASSIE SAT directly across from Dalton at dinner, wondering if she had totally lost her mind. The guy irritated her. He told blonde jokes, for goodness sakes. And now, she’d blown everything all to hell and back by having an orgasm!
It was her own damn fault, too. She’d been so sure of herself. So cocky. Taking off her blouse like that. Making sexy noises. It served her right.
Her face heated again as she remembered the feel of him, the way he’d known exactly how to touch her. How could she go back to the room tonight? And how on earth could they go back to the way they were before….
She’d totally given up so much as glancing at him. Twice now she’d embarrassed herself by stuttering over a question after having lost track of the dinner conversation.
After another embarrassed glance, she pulled herself together. It wasn’t that big a deal, for heaven’s sake. Why shouldn’t she have something with Dalton that was strictly physical? She wasn’t looking for a relationship, and certainly neither was he, so what was the harm?
“Cassie?”
She looked blankly at him.
“Would you like more potatoes?” he asked, signaling with his eyes.
She jerked when she realized Tasha stood beside her with the bowl of mashed potatoes in one hand and a serving spoon in the other. “Uh, no thanks,” she muttered, careful to avoid the others’ curious gazes.
Mary Jane laughed. “Don’t be embarrassed. Tasha is used to this kind of disorientation after the touching exercises. Amazing how it works, isn’t it? You and Dalton can barely keep your eyes off each other.”
Cassie forced herself to smile, the blush coming naturally. That was so not true. She’d purposely avoided him, hadn’t she? She darted a look his way and saw that he seemed a little uncomfortable, too. Had he been watching her as Mary Jane suggested?
“Oh, it’s just as sweet and touching as could be.” Simone couldn’t possibly look any more bored as she sipped her wine. As usual her food had barely been touched.
“Why don’t you shut up?” Kathy startled everyone with her little outburst. She was usually so quiet, but her face was flushed and her blue eyes angry. “I don’t even know why you’re here, Simone, but you are, and making fun of the rest of us doesn’t help anyone.”
Simone’s brows rose in amusement. “This afternoon was obviously good for you. It’s nice not to see you being such a timid little mouse.”
“Simone!” Mary Jane looked angrier than Cassie had ever seen her.
Tom glared at the redhead, his jaw tensed. “You’re lucky you’re a lady, or I’d have flattened you. But say something like that to my wife again and I may forget I’m a
gentleman.”
Grant chuckled. “He called you a lady, Simone. I believe that’s a first.”
She smiled in that bored-looking way of hers, clearly unfazed by either man’s comment. But then she stared somewhere past Cassie, her expression suddenly wary.
“Simone, may I have a word with you?” It was Bask. He’d come through the kitchen door, his voice calm and controlled, but instantly getting Simone’s attention.
She got up from the table and quietly followed him out of the dining room into the hall.
Cassie met Dalton’s pensive eyes. They’d all been led to believe Bask had left for the evening.
“Well,” Mary Jane said brightly. “Are we almost ready for dessert? I believe homemade strawberry shortcake is on the menu tonight.”
No one answered at first. Kathy stared down at her plate, her face still red. Grant seemed oblivious to the fact that his wife had been called to the principal’s office while he polished off his roast beef.
“I say bring on dessert. I don’t know how much longer I can stay awake.” Dalton made a show of stifling a yawn.
Cassie murmured her agreement. What the heck was he up to? He wasn’t tired, that much she knew. The keen look he’d given Bask meant the wheels were turning in Dalton’s head. She hoped he didn’t have some stupid notion of following Bask. That would be useless, anyway. He probably returned home to Marianne’s house each night.
Mary Jane promptly rang the bell and Tasha ducked in to get the signal for dessert. Within seconds she brought the strawberry shortcake out on a glass platter. It looked delicious. Too bad no one seemed as if they had an appetite. Except maybe for Grant.
The thought of his and Simone’s disintegrating relationship depressed Cassie. They had to have loved and respected each other once. What happened in a marriage that made two people so indifferent to each other? Is this what she had to look forward to if she ever got married? It was both sad and scary.
Dalton wolfed down his shortcake as soon as Tasha served it. He told a beaming Tasha how fabulous she was and that if he weren’t already married she’d have to watch out. Apparently she understood enough of what he’d said that she hummed her way back into the kitchen with the empty dinner plates.
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