Her heart pounded erratically, wildly. He was so big, so masculine, so damn hot. Impulsively, she sniffed his shirt, the scent triggering images of lighted candles and pungent sage.
“I want you,” she whispered hoarsely, rubbing her face against the fabric—his masculine scent shot straight to the pleasure center of her brain.
A groan started from somewhere deep in his chest, rolled out in a long, anguished sound of need as he lowered his head. She drew herself up, parted her mouth, clutched fistfuls of his shirt in her hands as though that could ground her for the onslaught to come.
His warm breath fanned across her mouth and cheeks and, as they drew nearer, she heard her name released on a strangled whisper.
Their lips…finally…touched.
The first jolt of sensation was deliciously, excruciatingly soft.
She opened her mouth wider and traced the tip of her tongue along the sensitive, moist skin of his bottom lip. When he growled in response, she tasted him more deeply, exploring the warm cavern of his mouth before sliding her tongue in and out, slowly, then faster, suggesting exactly what she had in mind.
He clamped his hands on either side of her head and pressed his lips, hard, on hers again. His kiss was demanding, aggressive, full-out alpha-male-you’re-mine and she should have hated it.
But she loved every single pulse-pounding moment.
She answered his primal moanings with her own, as her hands fumbled over his chest, greedy for what she wanted. She grasped and clawed at his shirt as their tongues mated and probed and tangled. She couldn’t get enough…had to have more…
Ripping loose from the kiss, she gasped a lungful of air, like a drowning woman taking her last breath.
“Come back here,” he growled, his massive arms crushing her to him. He coaxed his tongue deeper, his body closer, his hard, muscular body…
She shivered with pleasure as his large, confident hands stroked her hair, her face, roamed over her chest, before sliding underneath her filmy T-shirt and cupping her breast.
With a sharp hiss of pleasure, she arched her back as he deftly unsnapped her bra and slid his fingers underneath the strip of material to massage one mound, then its eager sister. When he gently tugged her distended nipple, a line of fire shot straight to her groin.
Like a woman drunk on lust, she half staggered a step back. “Don’t move,” she whispered shakily.
She tugged off her shirt and bra and tossed them aside. Cool breezes rushed over her bare chest, prickled her skin. Naked from the waist up, she placed her hands on top of her head and smiled. “I want your mouth on me,” she whispered.
He lowered his head and suckled her breasts. Using his tongue and lips, he coaxed and teased the tips to harden, their texture like small, pebbled berries in his mouth.
It felt good to please and accept pleasure again. It was right. To experience this in his world, up here in the sky, was no coincidence.
As he licked and suckled, she tunneled her fingers into his hair and guided his head from one breast to the other. His breaths scalded his lungs, his cock strained against his pants.
Had to have her.
Now.
Straightening, he grasped her small hands in his and placed them on the bulge in his jeans. Then he removed his hands, leaving her to make the next move.
Even in the muted light, he caught her mischievous grin. “I’ve wanted to do this since…”
She popped open one button, then another.
“Since?”
“Since I watched you at the photography studio.”
He chuckled under his breath. “Watched. And took pictures.”
A beat. “How’d you know?”
“Saw the images in your digital camera. Don’t feel bad. I was flattered.”
She popped open another button. “Guess you’re used to women taking pictures of you in the buff, hmm?”
“Only for charity calendars. And I didn’t volunteer myself, by the way.” He sucked in a sharp breath as she massaged him on the outside of the pants.
“Who did?” she whispered.
“Who cares,” he said on a release of breath. Another pop. “At first, I didn’t want to do it, but I’ve made it a practice to volunteer whenever I’m on a job.”
“On behalf of all the women who will buy that calendar—” she pulled open his pants, releasing his engorged cock “—I thank you. Oh…yes…I…do. Let’s get these bad boys off.”
He kicked off his shoes and stepped out his pants in record time. He started to remove his T-shirt, but stopped with a groan when she cupped his scrotum and started fondling the package while, with her other hand, she trailed the tips of her blunt nails along the underside of his shaft.
“Good?” she asked huskily.
A pent-up breath exploded from his lungs. “Take off your fanny pack and shorts,” he whispered roughly.
She did as told and stood before him, ready to pick up where they left off when Hawk suddenly wrapped his large hands around her waist and lifted her several feet off the floor.
With a small shriek, she coiled her fingers through the chain link for support, her head barely above Hawk’s.
“What are you doing?” she squealed.
“Relax, I have you. I want you to look out there. That’s my world.”
Surprisingly, being held slightly aloft was relatively comfortable. Holding on to the chain link, she looked through it at the carpet of twinkling lights that made up Miami. Above her was the vast dark sky with its scattered stars and crescent moon. She was like a bird in flight. Unfettered, free, exquisitely alive.
So this was Hawk’s world. Light. Powerful. Alone.
Emotion crowded her eyes as he lowered her, his lips kissing her stomach, her breasts, then finally her mouth. This time, their kiss was tender, deep.
They were ready to become lovers.
As he supported her buttocks with one hand, she braced one foot against the chain-link wall, opening herself to him. Murmuring her name, he wet the head of his shaft against her stretched opening, then rubbed the tip of his sex around and around her nub until she whimpered with need.
“Now,” she pleaded. “Please.”
He slowly guided himself into her, easing it slowly up until he filled her completely. Then, sliding his other hand underneath her, he lifted her, over and over, until they found their rhythm. Their thrusts grew faster, their sweat-slicked bodies slamming against each other in tandem, straining, aching for release….
Then, for an exquisite, singular moment, everything in the world stopped.
She cried out his name as her insides convulsed in waves, squeezing, milking him until he came with a roar, a primal sound that seemed ripped from his very soul.
He slumped back against the chain link, holding her protectively to him. As they caught their breaths, she lowered her leg until both feet were again on the ground.
Wrapped together, breezes cooling their heated bodies, she thought this had to be the happiest moment she’d experienced in a long, long time. No, not happy. Content.
She didn’t need any newspaper story for redemption because she’d found it tonight, in Hawk’s arms.
THE NEXT MORNING, Gina woke up, a light scent of something familiar in the air. Ah, sage. She blinked open her eyes, sleepily remembering she was in Hawk’s room.
Memories of last night’s lovemaking came flooding back. From the elevator on high, then again here in his room.
From the bathroom, she heard the hush of a shower running. She felt a shiver of pleasure, imagining water and soap sluicing down his big, brawny body. A quickie was definitely in order before he left for work.
The shower stopped. Time to make her move.
She eased out of bed, deciding to position herself between him and his clothes so he’d have to deal with her first before getting dressed.
The bathroom door opened. Hawk, a white towel wrapped around his waist, stepped into the room. Seeing Gina, he broke into a wide-toothed grin that brough
t those dimples to life.
“Good morning,” he murmured, his gaze traveled slowly down, then back up her naked body.
She stood underneath a bright overhead light, which made her feel deliciously on display. Exposed. The glint in his dark eyes told her he liked what he saw, which turned her on even more.
He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms, giving her a look that made her insides go molten.
“I remember when, at the photography studio, you stood between me and my clothes,” he murmured huskily. “I know what you wanted then. But what do you want now?”
Was he kidding? “As though I need to say.”
He cocked a smile. “You do.”
She half gasped in a breath, realizing he wanted her to express her desire. Tell him what made her hot. Okay, she’d told him a few things last night, but mostly they’d made love with sounds, experimental touches, murmured words—there, that’s good, oh, yes—but never a direct, do-me-like-this instruction. She felt her nipples tighten in anticipation of being straightforward, demanding even, in what she desired sexually.
She glanced to her left, at the mirror that covered the wall over the sink, then back to Hawk. The rise underneath his towel told her he was game for anything. But then, men always were, right? Different story for her—well, except when she was on the job. At work, she had no problem going after what she wanted.
But sex? Ooooh, this felt deliciously forbidden. Incredibly hot. Time to be bold.
“The mirror,” she murmured, pointing lazily at the wall-sized mirror over the sink. “I want to watch you make love to me.” Don’t stop there, Gina girl. She cleared her throat. “From behind.”
A pleased look lit up his face as he tugged off his towel and tossed it aside. She’d never get tired of seeing that gorgeous, naked body. Come get me, Mr. August!
He stepped in front of the sink, motioning for her to stand in front of him. She did, facing their reflections in the mirror. Her skin was so pale in contrast to his brown skin. Like cream on cafecito. Her white hair to his black like the moon to midnight. They were so different, yet, when his arms encircled her, their bodies instinctively nestled against each other, spoon-fashion. For a moment, she closed her eyes to take in his freshly showered scent, feel the length of his strong, muscled body against her backside. She smiled, even more pleased to feel the hard heat of his arousal pulsing slightly against the small of her back.
Opening her eyes, she held his gaze in the mirror as she lifted her arms around his neck, indicating what she wanted next by thrusting out her aching breasts. With a knowing smile, he accepted the invitation by skimming his fingertips slowly down the underside of her arms to her breasts, which he gently massaged and kneaded before drawing up his fingers and tugging on her erect nubs.
She struggled to catch her breath as he continued his expert manipulations. As he tugged and played and rubbed her hardened nipples, she spread her legs open wider.
“Now,” she murmured. “I want it now.” She had the fleeting thought that maybe they should take this slower, but that wasn’t what she wanted. No way, baby. Going after what she wanted, no shoulds, no rules, was insanely, intensely erotic.
His eyes burned with passion. “Lean over,” he whispered huskily.
“First,” she whispered, grappling for the ripped-open box of condoms on the edge of the counter, the box they’d hurriedly purchased on the way here last night. Damn if they hadn’t gone through at least three of those babies after getting back to his place.
“I’ll get it,” he said, effortlessly making the reach with his long arm and plucking one foil wrapper. After ripping open a packet, he stroked himself once, twice, his gaze never breaking from hers, before slipping it over his erection.
Licking her lips, she leaned over and pressed her palms flat against the cool sink counter. She wanted to feel him inside her so badly, her entire body was trembling in anticipation.
He slid one finger inside her opening. “You’re so wet,” he growled. And then, in one smooth controlled motion, he slid his length slowly inside her, deep, right to the point she wanted him most.
With an unabashed cry of delight, she moved her hips to accommodate his thick, long shaft. “More,” she murmured, feeling hot and greedy as she pushed down harder, squeezing, milking, taking what she wanted.
A guttural groan wrenched from him as he dug his fingers into her hips, holding her fiercely in place as he thrust deeper, riding her as their groans harmonized.
“So…hot,” she whimpered, watching him drive himself into her, watching how their bucking rhythm lifted and dropped her breasts, watching the shared look in their glistening eyes—primal, needy, unrepentant.
Being a voyeur to her own uninhibited fantasy drove her closer to the edge. Her entire body shaking, she rose up onto her toes, urging him to bury himself even deeper. More. More. On edge, grunting, panting, pounding, she paced his rhythm, so close…so close…
She arched back her head, sobbing with delight and release, as the first spasm rocked her insides, the convulsions rolling one after the other, hard and exquisite and savage. Suddenly he thrust one last time, stretching her to capacity, filling her completely. He held her there for a prolonged moment, grinding his teeth before shouting his release, a wild and guttural sound that resonated through the room.
Slowly, their movements subsided, their bodies stilled. Pulling himself out, he sank against her backside with a drawn-out groan and held her tight against his sweat-drenched body. Catching their breaths, they looked at each other in the mirror, tired and happy and sated.
“Tell me what to do again sometime,” he whispered.
She lifted a lazy hand and stroked the side of his face. “You’re probably the first man on the planet to ever say that to a woman and mean it.”
She turned into his warm, strong embrace. For a long moment, they simply held each other, returning gradually from their fog of lust. He brushed a strand of hair off her sweat-dampened face and eased his mouth to hers. Tenderly, he kissed her, lazily dueling with her tongue, sharing her very breath.
The moment felt so right, so good, so soft.
She pulled her head slightly away and looked up into his relaxed face. To think she’d always believed going soft was a bad thing, as though vulnerability was something to be ashamed of. She smiled as she nestled closer again, pressing her head to his solid chest, listening to his heartbeat. At this moment, feeling soft and open and vulnerable made her feel stronger than ever.
Over his arm, she spied a stack of papers on the floor next to the trashcan. “Thought you were a neatnik, Hawk,” she teased.
“Hmm?”
“Those papers. Not like you to stack stuff on the floor instead of just tossing them…”
She paused, staring at the top document.
It was a bill of lading sent to Bowen Builders. At the bottom was a signature that appeared to be Hawk Bonaparte.
“Need to ditch this condom,” murmured Hawk, pulling out of their embrace and stepping into the bathroom. “Be right back.”
She barely nodded, intent on a closer look of the document. After the bathroom door clicked shut, she picked up the stack and flipped through the papers, all bills of lading, all signed by Hawk. Why would he be signing for construction materials? With a sickening feeling she recalled Hawk’s question—Can you prove anything’s been stolen?
She possibly had the proof in her hands.
“What are you doing with those?”
She’d been so caught up in her thoughts, she hadn’t heard his return. They stared at each other for a long moment.
“So you know what they are,” she murmured. Tell me you don’t. Tell me what I’m seeing is wrong, a mistake.
“Yes.”
Her heart shrank. So Bowen had been right all along. Hawk was the thief. Except now she knew the thefts hadn’t occurred at the work site, but after they’d been shipped to Bowen Builders where Hawk had signed for them. How he’d fenced them to Central
America was for the D.A.’s office to find out.
“I’m taking them to the police,” she said quietly, matter-of-factly, avoiding his gaze. She couldn’t look at him. Not after what they’d shared.
“Gina, Bowen asked me to sign for him several times, that’s all.”
What an impressive liar. Came up with a reason without missing a beat. “Clerks sign bills of lading, Hawk, not CEOs or their construction workers,” she snapped, heading to the chair where she’d tossed her clothes last night. “Besides, Bowen would have told me if he’d asked you to sign.” Stepping into her shorts, she felt nauseous, sickened by the truth. “You screwed up, Hawk.”
Strong hands grasped her shoulders, turned her around. She grabbed her blouse and held it over her naked breasts.
Hawk’s black eyes bored into hers. “You’re not listening with your heart.”
“My heart?” She choked back a bitter laugh. “This isn’t about love, it’s about crime and deceit. I should never have—” She bit back the hurt. “Let go of me.”
His gaze traveled slowly over her face, her mouth, her hair, before he released his hold. “When I first met you, I sensed you brought danger. Then I decided that danger was only my fear of being close again to a woman who courted risk.”
As she put on her shoes, she glanced across the room at the dried rose. Nine-eleven had done more than break Hawk’s heart. It had broken his spirit, his sense of right and wrong. Gina felt sorry for him, but not enough to let a crime go unpunished.
“But now I know the real danger was trusting you,” he continued. “Go in peace, Gina, and don’t return.”
“Go in—” He had a lot of balls, turning it back on her. She’d dealt with a lot of criminals in her day, but none that had wished her well after learning she was about to jail their ass. “And to think I believed I’d been redeemed,” she muttered, trying to ignore the empty ache where her heart had been.
She grabbed the stack of papers and headed for the door.
FOR THE REST of the day, Gina stayed on the move, visiting city hall to copy the high-rise building specs at the assessor’s office before conducting a brisk surveillance-combo-interview on Pilar’s significant other. Gina worked cases via cell phone from her car, never stopping because she knew that when she did, she’d have to finally deal with the devastation of Hawk’s betrayal.
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