by Myla Jackson
Joe’s team of dogs and handlers arrived at eight o’clock and laid out the plan for checking through the vendor-delivered items and the trucks waiting at the loading docks, as well as making a thorough sweep of the building itself.
Wyatt met Joe at the entrance and shook his hand. “Sorry about running out on you last night.”
Joe shrugged. “I know what it’s like. Been where you are and still have my moments.”
Wyatt swallowed past the lump in his throat. Damned right, Joe knew how it was. He’d been in therapy for over six months. The dogs had been the ticket out. “Thanks.”
“Yeah. You didn’t hurt my feelings.” Joe grinned. “Besides, I got some one-on-one time with the pretty redhead.”
Wyatt’s hands knotted into fists until he realized Joe was yanking his chain.
“She’s feisty that one,” Joe said. “I had to hold her back to keep her from going after you.” He shot a glance at Wyatt. “Smart, pretty and caring. Three of the things I like most in a woman. You going after her?”
Wyatt shook his head. “I’m not ready.”
“Well, if you’re not ready, mind if I ask her out?”
“Yes, I mind,” he bit out before he could think.
Joe laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I get it. You don’t want to stake a claim, but you don’t want anyone else poaching on the lady in the meantime.” He crossed his arms. “Doesn’t quite seem fair, but then I’m not a man to horn in on another man’s lover.”
Wyatt started to tell Joe that he wasn’t Fiona’s lover. But then that would be a lie. He’d made love to her the night before. That didn’t mean he had any kind of claim on her. He’d told her he didn’t want to start something. And he meant it. With his memories so fresh in his mind and the violence of his dreams, he didn’t trust himself to sleep with anyone. Especially not Fiona.
“I can see you have some issues to gnaw on.” Joe jerked his head to the side. “While you’re chewing, let’s get this show on the road.” He assigned sectors for each handler to manage and sent them on their way with instructions on what to look for and the procedure for if they found anything. When the dogs and handlers had dispersed, Joe tugged on Bacchus’s lead. “Come.” He glanced at Wyatt. “You’re welcome to tag along if you want. Bacchus and I love company.”
Wyatt fell in step with Joe and Bacchus as they searched one of the sections of the convention center Wyatt had been through earlier that morning. The dog sniffed and nosed around, moving on without stopping for long. Once they’d completed their sector, Joe guided the dog to the vendor displays in the center of the convention center. One row at a time, they traversed the showroom, noting each display, the items arranged on the tables and the people representing the products. Wyatt had scanned through the list of names and companies. Each entrant had been run through the FBI’s watch list before being approved, something Fiona had arranged months in advance of the convention.
Bacchus never once stopped to lie down like he would if someone had packed a bomb among the display setups or swag.
When they’d completed the sweep, Wyatt felt a little more confident about the building and the contents. His stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten. “Want to get some breakfast?” he asked Joe. “I’ll buy.”
“I’m always up for a free meal. Why don’t we ask your boss to join us?” He nodded toward the door where a perfectly dressed, prim and proper event planner entered. Her light charcoal skirt and wrinkle-free matching jacket were as neatly put together as the woman wearing them. She wore her deep red hair up and twisted into an elegant knot, pinned to the back of her head, the wild curls tucked in place, exposing the long pale length of her throat.
Wyatt could almost taste her skin. His groin tightened as he recalled every line and curve of the body beneath the skirt and jacket.
Before Wyatt could stop him, Joe raised a hand and called out, “Fiona, over here.”
Fiona glanced up and smiled at Joe. When her gaze connected with Wyatt’s her smile slipped and a rosy red blush crept up her neck to blossom in her cheeks.
Joe’s brows dipped and his lips curled up on the edges. “I didn’t know redheads could blush that red.” He glanced from Fiona to Wyatt and back. “Damn. You two got it on last night, didn’t you?” he said quietly enough only Wyatt would hear.
Wyatt’s jaw hardened. “Shut the fuck up.”
Fiona crossed the tile floor to where they stood.
Joe’s grin broadened and he reached out to shake Fiona’s hand. “You look gorgeous as usual, Ms. Fiona.”
Her answering smile made Wyatt’s cock jerk. “Thank you, Joe.”
Joe tilted his head to the side. “Are those shadows I detect beneath your eyes? The convention making you lose sleep?”
Wyatt shoved an elbow into his friend’s side. “With as much riding on this event, as well as terrorist threats, I imagine sleepless nights come with the job description.”
Fiona gave him a brief smile. “Right. I’ll be glad when it’s all over and everyone is safely on their way back to their respective countries.”
“In the meantime, won’t you join us for breakfast?” Joe asked. “Would sure make the scenery a lot brighter than looking across the table at Wyatt’s ugly mug.”
Even before he’d finished asking, Fiona was shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I have too much to do this morning.”
“You should eat to keep your strength up. From what I understand it’ll be a very long day, and if I’m not mistaken you probably skipped breakfast.” Joe gripped her elbow and led her toward the exit, refusing to take no for an answer.
“Joe, let her be. If she doesn’t want to go to breakfast with you, don’t push her,” Wyatt said.
Fiona wavered. “Well, I could stand a cup of coffee.”
“It’s settled then.” Joe pulled her hand through the crook of his elbow. “You’re coming with us.”
Wyatt followed behind the two as they walked out into the already warming Texas sunshine. As he trailed the other two, he couldn’t avoid noticing the twitch of Fiona’s hips and the way her skirt tightened around her thighs with every step she took. Those thighs had been wrapped around his waist at several points during the previous night’s mattress gymnastics. They were strong and sexy as hell. The woman worked out. Another thing he liked about her. Hell, there wasn’t much he didn’t like. Which made it even harder to resist her.
His jeans tightened, his cock pressing hard against his zipper. If he could trust Joe not to make a move on Fiona, he’d leave and let them eat breakfast alone. But the thought of Fiona with anyone else but him set his teeth on edge. Which didn’t make any sense at all. He didn’t want her. No, that wasn’t right.
He wanted her more than he wanted his next breath.
Trouble was, he didn’t want to hurt her.
Chapter Eight
Fiona sat beside Joe, directly across the table from Wyatt. Though she didn’t let her gaze connect with his too often, she could feel him staring at her and it made her squirm in her seat, her thighs tightening, her pussy creaming all over again. She could still feel the warm, wet rasp of his tongue across her clit and the weight of his palms cupping her breasts.
Trying to force her mind out of the bedroom, she picked at the breakfast taco on her plate, her appetite nonexistent.
For food.
What was Joe saying? So deep in her thoughts about being naked with Wyatt, she’d missed half of what he was talking about.
“One of my connections at the local FBI office informed me that they have been getting warnings from Washington to be on the lookout for trouble. The tech gurus in the cyber division say there’s been increased activity among known terrorist organizations in connection with the International Trade Convention.”
Fiona dragged her attention back to the conversation, the importance of which coul
d be the difference between a successful convention and a complete disaster where delegates and civilians could die. “All the more reason to be on our toes at all times. We don’t want anyone hurt.” Despite her effort to avoid Wyatt, her gaze rose to his and locked.
His dark brown gaze bore into hers. “No, we don’t want anyone hurt.”
Joe stared from Fiona to Wyatt. “On that we can all agree. Which makes it all the more imperative to stop situations from happening before they become dangerous.”
Wyatt nodded. “Exactly. We should avoid trouble where at all possible. Even if it means denying certain persons from being around others.”
“Right.” Joe tapped his finger on the table. “I understand the Columbians and the Venezuelans have been calling each other names. Perhaps you should keep the delegates from those two countries out of each other’s way.”
Fiona stared at Wyatt a moment longer, her brows lifting. Not only would they need to keep certain delegates apart, Wyatt would probably try to maintain his distance from her as well. “The social event tonight will be a challenge. I’ve studied the list of guests and made notes on who has issues with whom.”
“I’d like to have that list,” Wyatt said.
“It’s in my room at the hotel. If you come two hours before the event, I’ll brief you on who to watch out for.” She glanced away, fighting to keep her lips from quirking up on the corners. Not only would she brief him on the people attending, but she might even debrief him for a little pre-hors d’oeuvre snack before the evening’s ordeal.
Oh yeah. He didn’t wear briefs. That smile she’d been holding onto broke through. Even better. If the man thought he could make love to her so expertly the night before and walk out of her life the next morning, he had another think coming. So he had some issues with PTSD? She could deal with it. Her parents hadn’t raised a wimp.
Her mind made up, her day laid out with so many coordination tasks to tick and tie, she pushed back from the table to get started. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I have work to do.” She stared across the table at Wyatt. “I’ll see you later.”
His eyes narrowed, but he nodded.
As far as Fiona was concerned the day couldn’t go fast enough. All the plans she’d made for the convention were falling into place. The caterer was on target to deliver on time, Joe and his dogs would be sweeping the hotel again at noon. Preston would have guards positioned at each entrance and exit, along with one of Joe’s bomb-sniffing dogs and handlers. The social event would take place in the hotel’s grand ballroom.
And if she was lucky, precisely two hours before the social hour, she’d take care of that itch that was threatening to consume her.
Wyatt spent most of the day between the convention center and the hotel, double-checking with Preston, Arthur and Joe at intervals to make sure all their bases were covered and nothing slipped through. When it was time to meet Fiona in her room, he couldn’t deny the rapid beat of his heart or the fact that his jeans had become two times tighter than they’d been all day. Standing outside the room they’d shared the night before, he raised his hand to knock instead of running his keycard through the locking mechanism. He had yet to find another room, the concierge insisting all the rooms in the River Walk area had been overbooked and he’d be lucky to find anything until after the convention.
Drawing in a deep breath, he knocked, telling himself he’d be in and out as soon as she imparted the information he’d need to mingle at the party effectively.
Less than a second passed and the door swung open.
His lips quirked. She must have been waiting on the other side. It was nice to know she had been as anxious as he had been for the agreed upon hour to arrive. She stood in the doorway, naked, her long red hair hanging down over one of her shoulders, barely covering the tip of one breast.
All good intentions of remaining hands off flew out the window.
She grabbed his hand, yanked him through the doorway and shut it behind him.
He swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around hers to keep him from reaching out to capture one of her perfectly formed breasts.
Focus on the eyes.
“Uh, did I catch you at a bad time?” he asked, his gaze slipping from her eyes down to her smiling lips and lower to those smooth mounds jutting out as perky as ever, the tips knotted into hard little buds, tempting him to perdition. Oh boy.
“You and I both know this is as good a time as any.” She reached out, grabbed his T-shirt and pulled it up over his head, tossing it over the back of a chair. “We have exactly one hour before I have to be in the ballroom directing the preparations.” Her fingers made quick work of the button on his jeans, pushing it through and then sliding the zipper down.
His cock sprang free, hard, thick and throbbing. Wyatt groaned. “I told you, I’m no good for you.”
“Let me be the judge of that.” She stared down at his manhood. “Lose the boots,” she commanded, as she cupped her breasts and squeezed the tips. “I don’t know how long I can wait.”
Surrendering to her demands, he toed off his cowboy boots and shucked his jeans in record time. “This changes nothing.” He scooped her up into his arms and strode across the room to the bed, vaguely noting the rollaway had been removed. Nothing got in the way of the two of them and the mattress they’d be testing for endurance.
He tossed her in the middle and climbed in beside her, taking one of those sexy nipples into his mouth. Sucking hard on it, he released it and kissed his way across to the other. “Shouldn’t we be checking on something?”
“Umm, yeah. On how wet you make me.” Fiona ran her fingers down her torso to the juncture of her thighs, parting her folds for him.
“Got it.” He took over, pushing her fingers aside. Her pussy was wet with thick, musky juices. Wyatt slipped two fingers into her channel, swirling around to drench them before sliding up to stroke her clit.
Fiona arched her back off the bed. “Oh yes. That’s it. That’s the spot.” Her heels dug into the mattress and her bottom lifted.
Her apparent satisfaction spurred his desire. When he sat up, she touched his side. “I want to taste you,” she said, her hand finding and gripping his dick, tugging him toward her. “Let me.” Angling him toward her, she nudged his knees, urging him to straddle her head and lower himself until she could take his straining cock into the warmth and wetness of her mouth.
By all that was paradise, he couldn’t think past the way she made him feel with her lips wrapped around him, the suction of her mouth pulling him deeper. Fiona gripped his ass and pulled him down until his cock bumped against the back of her throat.
He groaned and rose. Again, her fingers dug into his butt and she brought him back to her, fully encasing him with her mouth. He almost shot his wad right then.
Several deep breaths and a will of iron got him under control and he moved in and out, settling into a smooth, easy rhythm he could handle while he bent to the task of bringing her to the same heights of ecstasy.
Parting her folds with his fingers, he stroked his tongue across the tip of her clit.
Her ass rose from the bed and she moaned around his cock.
Wyatt flicked her clit again and then ran his tongue in a long, thick sweep that ended at her entrance where he tasted the musky cream of her desire. He dug his tongue into her channel, while he fingered the tight little hole of her anus.
Her knees came up to squeeze around his ears and her teeth scraped his dick.
If he wasn’t careful, he’d come in her mouth. She had him so hot he could easily forget himself.
Focusing on her, he swiped and swirled his tongue along the swollen strip of flesh until she cried out, the noise muffled by his dick in her mouth.
She drew him deep into her mouth, her fingernails digging into his buttocks, holding him deep inside her.
Wyatt tensed, hovering on t
he edge, his body straining for release. Seconds before he lost it, he pulled free of her lips and turned around in the bed, settling between her legs. “Protection,” he gritted out.
She held up a foil package in triumph, then tore it with her teeth and rolled the condom over his engorged cock, her fingers lingering at the base, rolling his balls between her digits.
The urgency of his desire won out and he thrust into her, pumping in and out so hard and fast the friction made their connection burn.
She rose up to meet him, their bodies slamming together in a hot and powerful union. When he could hold back no longer, he rose up on his knees, shoved a pillow beneath her hips, gathered her bottom in his grip and rammed into her one last time, burying his dick as deep as it would go. He held her there as he shot over the edge, his cock throbbing against the walls of her channel. At that moment, his entire world consisted of him and her and the bed they lay on. There was nowhere else he’d rather be.
Fiona wrapped her legs around his waist, digging her heels into his ass. She fondled her breasts, tweaking the nipples, her head thrashing side to side as her body shook with her own release.
When he finally came back down to earth, Wyatt pulled the pillow out from beneath her. Without breaking their connection, he lay on his side, rolling her over to face him. “I didn’t come here to fuck you.”
She smiled and kissed his chin. “But aren’t you glad you did?”
He closed his eyes. “You know I am.” He brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “I could easily become addicted to you.”