She whimpered, and the sound brought him undone. He captured her in a passionate, frantic kiss that was a lot more aggressive than he would have planned—but she didn’t seem to mind. She delved her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer, and he intensified the strokes of his tongue, and grazed her bottom lip. Strands of desire traveled from his thighs to his cock. If he didn’t get inside her fast enough, he would come in his pants like a damn teenager.
He withdrew from her, and her head bobbed toward him in protest. She opened her eyes slowly.
“Not here,” he whispered into her ear, and she nodded.
By the time they reached his house, his body soared, every cell sizzling on high alert. How ironic that he was the one returning from the beach breathless with his hair ruffled and sweat glistening on his face. They raced through the living area, mixing kisses and moans; bumping and stumbling between pieces of furniture. His vision was blurry, arousal fogging his brain.
When he finally reached his bedroom, he groaned. It didn’t take long to close the door behind them with a kick of his foot, his blood simmering. How lucky was he? To finally tear down her walls, he thought, fumbling out of his shirt.
The full moon stretched over the carpet. Nice, but he needed more. He wanted to see every inch of her, to contemplate her, to show her she had been a fool for doubting her alluring beauty.
He motioned to flip on the light, but she gripped his wrist and said in a rush, “No.”
“Next time.” He managed to hide his disappointment. Too aroused to waste time picking that battle.
She splayed her hands on his chest. He registered the satisfaction on her face, and shameless male pride washed over him. She traced circles on his taut nipples, and she slid her fingers down his pectorals.
He shivered and drew back as if he had been burned. His erection grew harder, and air was squeezed from his lungs. “Miss-Don’t-Touch-Me likes to touch.”
“She likes a lot of other things, too,” she whispered, the pitch in her voice lowered. “I’m sure you’re about to find out.” She perched her hand on his belt, her fingers toying with the loops.
Man, he couldn’t find out fast enough. He swallowed hard, and unzipped himself, pulling down his trousers and boxers. Turning around, he helped her out of the dress. When he reached for the bra, she inhaled deeply, as if she could absorb all the oxygen around them.
“Relax, mi amor. I’m not going to hurt you.” He leaned, planted a kiss on her shoulder, and could feel the little hairs rising on the back of her neck. The statement was obvious, but he figured he needed to remind her, just in case old insecurities threatened her.
She let out a long sigh, and turned to him. “I know.”
He took her to the bed, and eased her on the mattress as if she was a precious china doll. He knew her gaze was riveted on him, and even with the dim lighting, he could see the beam of approval on her face. Moving on, he spread her legs apart and she lifted her bottom to help him rid her of her underwear.
When he touched her hips, he caressed a pocket of skin, his sense enhanced by the low lighting. She quivered under his hand, and he decided to continue his exploratory search of her body. He set a path of feather light kisses on her prickled skin, moving down her.
By the time he would be done with her, she wouldn’t remember anything but him. A part of him he refused to acknowledge for longer than an instant alerted him to be careful. Otherwise, he would be the one having a hard time forgetting about her, when all was said and done.
***
Sydney clenched her fingers on the soft sheets, and rumpled them. When was the last time a man had gone down on her? Years. She willed that thought away. To think about any other man while in bed with Alejandro, was fucked up.
Not that he’d lose in a comparison game. Hell no. He licked the skin above her sex. That alone made her inch toward him, her control over her own body and reactions, null. Currents of sexual energy surged through her, each time faster. Each time, stronger. He cupped between her legs, and nibbled on her damp thighs.
“Alejandro,” she pleaded, finding it hard to breathe.
“What? You want me to stop?” he asked with a trace of playful innocence.
“No,” she rushed to say. “You’d better not stop.”
With a sexy chuckle, he positioned is face in between her thighs, leaving no doubt of what was about to happen. Oh. God. She buried the back of her head in the pillow, arching herself toward him. He licked at her center, his tongue stroking her with mastery, and she moaned loud. She thrust her hips at his mouth. He rose to the occasion, plunging his tongue in her and caressing her clit.
She gritted her teeth. A fire brewed in her belly and flooded her entire being, the sensation too good to bottle up. She began shaking in a glorious surrender, happy to lose control over her body if only for a moment.
When the spasms subsided, he found his way to her again, this time kissing her belly button and spending a generous amount of time on her breasts. He cupped one breast while sucking her other nipple, causing the peaceful after sex glow to reenergize.
Her body rumbled. She dug her fingernails in his shoulders, scratching him, wanting to translate the sensations she herself couldn’t describe. Wishing she could brand him like he was branding her. Crazy, she knew. He probably had his pick of women without half the baggage she carried. They had tiny, designer labeled carry-ons. Well, besides his crazy ex.
He nipped her breast, and she angled toward him with a whimper. He worked his way up her neck, and when his lips found hers, she was quivering. She licked a bit of her own tangy and sweet taste on his tongue. He intensified the kiss, anticipating her need for more.
More. The man was magnificent. Screwing him was like sending a hungry homeless person to a lavish all-you-can-eat buffet. Clearly, she would have consequences to deal with later. At the moment, she just wanted to savor him. Every. Single. Bit.
He rolled the condom on and slid on top of her. She parted her legs, and he positioned himself in between them, the tip of his cock brushing against her pussy. He plunged inside her, the sensation overwhelming and exhilarating, and she threw her head back. Quickly, she pushed him and flipped him against the bed so she could be on top. A glorious sense of female power rippled through her, the type she hadn’t experienced, well, ever. This gorgeous man beneath her wanted her. Growled for her.
She straddled him, dictating the rhythm. He egged her on, massaged her breasts, and she let out a trail of hoarse moans. He tugged at her hardened nipple, and another thrill surged through her, starting between her thighs and fast tracking throughout. He groaned, and held her waist with his hands, increasing the pressure his cock delved into her. At each thrust, he hit a deeper, more sensitive spot. She matched his passion with her own, and leaned over him, the promise of pleasure threatening to run her raggard. Her breasts bounced down his face, and he licked her nipples. The tip of his finger swirling over her prickled flesh.
“Alejandro,” she moaned, and he spun her on her back and continued to impale her, quickening the rhythm. Oh. Yes.
Her heart slammed against her rib cage, every beat stronger than the last. She closed her eyes, and enjoyed the moment. She clenched her inner muscles one last time, then her body followed suit…currents of climax shattering through her. Wow.
They lay next to each other, as their breathing slowed. He took her hand and kissed it, then murmured something in Spanish. When he swung one leg over the other and headed to the bathroom, she assumed he was disposing of the condom. She pulled the sheet over her and clicked her tongue. Damn. What just happened?
She wrestled against an urge to giggle. Wait a minute, giggling?
He made his way to the bed, deliciously naked. Impossible not to admire the hard ridges of his broad chest. A path of dark hair dusted his olive skin, narrowing down his amazing abs.
“You are gorgeous,” he said.
“You haven’t seen all of me.” She grasped the hem of the sheet, and wondered if she wa
s talking about her mind or body. Did it matter?
“That’s why there’s always tomorrow, like my father used to say.” He ran his finger down her nose, and a thrill of excitement spread through her.
A grin teased her lips. “I doubt your father meant this specific circumstance.”
He chuckled, the sound hearty and rich like the man in front of her. “Guess not.” He snatched her into his arms. “I would say you are safe if you are naked with me…although I guess it depends on your idea of safe.”
“Trust me, from someone who’s been to prison…people have different concepts of safety.” Her voice hardened against her consent. Shit. There she was, blurting this out again. She didn’t want any of that—to express her past, a chapter of her life she much preferred keep hidden. There was something about Alejandro, the way he studied her, his eyes attentive and kind, that made her want to share with him more than she should allow herself to.
He delved his fingers into her hair, and the caress had her leaning into his hand, needing more. “Tell me about it.”
“I can’t compress one year into one bitter sentence,” she said, then sobered. “It was awful. Shower time was the worst. There were guards, but sometimes they pretended not to see what was going on…because they had a special deal with some of the inmates. Contraband and stuff. They sold the stuff they brought under the table.”
“Were you ever taken against your will?”
She closed her eyes, the image of a burly, tattooed inmate cornering her against a stained wall. The smell of urine and body odor filled the air. Her temples throbbed as if it was happening again, but he started to massage her shoulders in a soothing motion.
“No.” She opened her eyes and kissed the salty curve of his neck. Post-sex intimacy was a novelty for her. Catching a whiff of the wonderful clean scent of his skin, she continued, “A few times, though, this woman tried…I said no, and she hit me.”
He stopped massaging her, and heaved his hand over her shoulder blade. “I’m sorry you had it so rough, Tesoro. I wish I could have known you then.”
Really? They belonged to different worlds. If he had known her then, he wouldn’t have given her a second glance. “I doubt you would have been on my side.”
He pulled her up until they were eye level. The intensity in his gaze sent shameful electric ripples through her. She swallowed hard, but he cupped her face before she could escape from his contemplation. From him.
“I can’t think of a better place to be.”
Her heart raced, and, for a moment, she wished that was true.
***
The warm water glided over her body, and she tilted her head back for more. Within seconds, the powerful spray soaked her hair, and she glanced at the pristine marble countertop. There should be a hairbrush somewhere, right? Of course, one would wonder why she chose to wash her hair at midnight. For the same reason she had been under the oversize showerhead for the last fifteen minutes—stalling.
What should she do next? They had sex, and of course, it had been fantastic. That said, the best thing to do moving forward was to keep her head in the game. Someone had killed the writer, her coworker and quite possibly tried to harm Alejandro’s family. They needed to get to the bottom of things so she could start over. Yet again. Somewhere new.
She was good, no, great at starting over and making a new life for herself. Living that same life for a long period of time, well, that was a different story.
“Got any room for me?” he asked, his deep sensual accent a bit more pronounced.
She blinked and there he was, opening the door, proud in his birthday suit. She parted her mouth to protest, to send him away, but c’mon, not doing something about his throbbing erection was like throwing a perfectly delicious, mouthwatering piece of filet mignon in the trash. Pure blasphemy.
“Maybe.” She gave him a shrug. “What’s the magic word?”
There should be a law against filthy rich men having chiseled bodies and the ability to turn women into putty in bed. It just was not right. He winked at her and reached for the shampoo bottle, his body brushing against hers enough to set a path of goose bumps on her arms. “Orgasm.”
“The season of giving.”
He grinned. “Who knew you were so traditional?”
She chuckled, and he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist.
Before she lost her courage, she got down on her knees and slithered her tongue over his cock. He groaned and she could feel the frantic rush of blood pounding in his veins, the stiffening of his muscled thighs. The sharp intake of his breath. She began to taste him, and savored the soap-scented skin, warm in her mouth. He grew more, and she moaned, anticipating what would happen later. He murmured her name, and she swirled her tongue around him leisurely, feasting on his large, thick cock.
“Come here, tesoro,” he whispered, pulled her up, and in one swift movement, placed her against the wet tiled wall. She gasped.
She wrapped her legs around him, so organically it was like they had done that for ages.
“It’s been far too long since I was last inside you,” he said in a coarse voice.
Her toes curled, and she quivered. Where did he learn to talk like this? Some sort of Renaissance man intensive workshop on how to pick up women?
She barely registered when he retrieved the condom he brought with him from the soap holder and ripped off the foil, wrapping his length. A couple seconds later, her world shook again. His deep, powerful thrust yanked her from further rationalizations. With a low moan, she clenched her sex around him, snuggling his cock against her clingy, soaking walls. Out of everything she knew, this made sense—Alejandro impaling her, driving into her, in a fast motion that left her gasping.
“More,” she demanded. “More.”
He lifted her a bit, and removed his length almost all the way out. Temporarily, she panicked. Then, he returned home again, and one last time, he thrust into her until she choked out his name. Her mind was like the sun shining down through a cloudless sky on an empty field.
Chapter 8
Sydney dialed Jacob Berg’s number, her fingers gripping the cordless phone.
“Hello,” said a low male voice after the third ring.
She cleared her throat. “Mr. Berg?”
A sigh from the other side of the line. “Yes.”
Crap. She hoped a family member would pick up the phone, like last time, just to give her a couple more seconds to prepare. She rubbed her forehead. Who was she kidding? “Hi. I’m Sydney Bell, I met you a couple of times when you visited the base.” She cleared her throat. “I’m very sorry for your loss. Patty was a dear friend and colleague.”
“Thank you,” he said, his voice clipped. The man was probably tired of talking to people and repeating the same thing over and over.
“Listen, I know this will sound crazy, but I’d like to respectfully ask for your permission for an autopsy of Patty. She and I worked together that last shift, and we transferred a patient who told us a confidential message. He died shortly after, and I was attacked in my place the next day.” She paced in the airy, spacious room. “Mr. Berg, I have reasons to believe she was murdered.”
A clearing of throat. “Have you told any of this to the police?”
“No. There’s a private detective on the case. We just wanted to make sure our theory is right before we get the police involved.”
“Sydney, my wife had a very stressful job.” He coughed. “She was sixty-two.”
“I know. But she was in great shape. I mean—”
“I disagree with cutting a dead body. That goes against the faith I was raised in.”
“I thought Patty was Christian.”
“Yes, but my father is Jewish, and although I struggled with some aspects of my religion over time, I strongly believe no one should be buried without parts or fluids removed during an autopsy.”
“Even if that means she could have been killed?”
“I lost my wife of t
hirty-two years. I can’t deal with this right now. If you believe strongly that something happened, call the police and let them handle it.”
She registered Alejandro walking in the room, holding two cups of coffee. For the next several minutes she let out a couple more condolences and finished the conversation per Jacob’s request. Alejandro placed the cups on the bedside table, opened the glass French doors, and the drapes swooshed. A powerful ray of sun stretched over the marble tiled floor.
Drawing a breath, she tossed the phone on the big bed, and refused to stare at the stunning beachfront view. The brightness of the day couldn’t fool her; as far as finding Patty’s killer and her attacker, they kept hitting brick walls. “How much did you hear?”
“Enough.” He had only a pair of forest green pajama pants, and she had to exercise hardcore self-control to keep from running her fingers over his hair-dusted chest. “Don’t get discouraged. I got a missed call from Joe, maybe he has news.”
“Yes. Maybe. Call him on your cell. While you do that, I’ll call my supervisor at work and see if anyone was looking for me, or if there is news.”
She couldn’t give up on finding out what happened, if she wanted to get her life back, and honor her friend. She wouldn’t.
***
Alejandro sipped on coffee and dialed Joe’s number. “I saw you called. Got any news for me?” He had decided on making the phone call in the living area, as Sydney was still prowling the room, calling her work in NY.
“Yes.” Joe coughed on the other side of the line. “I’ve been working with Meryl, Frank’s former assistant. She’s been helpful. A bit of a chatterbox, but—”
Alejandro sat the coffee cup on the counter. “What have you found out?”
“Turns out Frank’s wife, Courtney, was still talking to an ex boyfriend. She was at home when he died. I located the guy, but he’s tough to crack.”
“That still doesn’t explain why Lewis would say someone was after me.”
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