Undetected (Treasure Hunter Security #8)

by Anna Hackett

  Darcy said good night to her family, hugging her parents and sisters-in-law. Her bossy brothers got scowls.

  Alastair was quiet on the drive back to his place, except to take several calls updating him on the teams setting up at the Adana Tower. Once they were inside his condo, she sauntered across the living room, more than ready to kick off her heels.

  He flicked a lamp on. “Darcy.”

  One word, but that tone shivered through her, setting every nerve alight. She turned.

  His intense green gaze was on her, sliding down her body. She shivered. His eyes were filled with heat and hunger.

  “You put yourself in danger tonight.” His voice was low.

  Goose bumps broke out on her skin. “And someone shot you and tried to cut you up with a knife.”

  “Someone dragged you off the fucking second story.” Alastair stalked toward her, shrugging out of his tuxedo jacket. He tossed it aside.

  Darcy backed up, excitement skittering through her veins. She hated to admit it, but she was a little nervous, as well. This man was so intense.

  The back of her knees hit the couch and she sat down automatically.

  Alastair stopped in front of her, leaning over her.

  “You don’t risk yourself. Ever.”

  Her chest was rising and falling fast. She shifted. She was so turned on. That bossy, arrogant tone drove her insane.

  “I’m not good at following orders, remember,” she murmured.

  “I do.”

  She ran her gaze over him, taking in that hard, rugged face, the torn and blood-stained shirt. God, he was gorgeous. Her eyes reached waist level and she saw the bulge there. Hunger made her ache.

  She looked up and saw he was watching her. “Are you going to make me follow your orders?”

  He made a harsh sound, and her gaze dropped again. The bulge behind his zipper was growing. He was hard for her.

  His green eyes blazed hot. “Darcy.” His voice was deep and thick, filled with dark promise.

  She reached for him. She took a second to unbuckle his belt, flick open the button, and lower his zipper. She saw the muscles in his thighs flex under his trousers.

  Her pulse was hammering as she pulled his cock free. Oh, God. His cock was beautiful. Thick, long, and hard. She wrapped her fingers around him.

  “You like that?” His voice was gritty.

  “Yes.” She ran her hands up his hard length.

  “You want my cock, Darcy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then show me.”

  With a moan, she leaned forward and licked the swollen head. The musky taste of him filled her and she moaned again.

  He groaned, his hips moving forward.

  Darcy opened her mouth and sucked him in. He muttered a curse, his hips bucking. Then he slid a hand in her hair and fed more of his cock into her mouth.

  “Fuck. I’ve imagined this so many damn times.”

  She looked up, saw his gaze locked on where her mouth was wrapped around him. She moaned again, desire blazing through her. She sucked, loving knowing that she was driving this controlled man crazy.

  “Imagined laying you out on your desk,” he continued. “Getting my mouth between your legs.”

  She squirmed on the couch, aching between her legs. She hurt for him. She started to push her dress up, needing to ease the pain.

  “No.” He pulled out of her mouth. “You don’t get to come yet. You don’t get to have what you want, until you learn to follow orders.”

  He pulled her to her feet and leaned down, his lips brushing hers. “You going to do what I say, baby?”

  “No.” More excitement filled her veins, like the sweetest drug. Fighting with this man excited her like nothing else.

  He leaned down, picked her up, and tossed her over his shoulder. His palm smacked against her ass.

  As she gasped, he strode into the bedroom and everything tumbled as he dropped her on the bed. The bedside lamp clicked on and he stood over her—big and imposing. He shrugged his shoulder harness off and dropped it on a chair. Then he started unbuttoning his shirt with slow, methodical movements.

  Darcy licked her lips. Each button that loosened, showcasing a widening sliver of bronze skin, made her breath hitch. Then the shirt was open and he slipped it off.

  Oh, boy. She drank in the hard chest, the defined abs, and the tiny smattering of dark hair across his pecs. She wanted to lick him—every ridge, every dip, every sleek line of muscle.

  “Take the dress off,” he ordered.

  That dark voice, filled with authority, shivered over her. “No.”

  He leaned over her, gripping her chin with his fingers. His thumb brushed her lips. “So defiant.”

  Then his hands slid down. He caught the neckline of her dress and pulled it lower. Her shoulders were already bare and, as the fabric slid downward, the tops of her breasts were on view. The satin caught on the tips of her breasts, and she was excruciatingly conscious that she wasn’t wearing a bra. There’d been no way to wear one in this dress. He gave a sharp tug.

  The fabric pooled around her waist, leaving her breasts bare.

  His gaze was on her and he made a hungry sound. She felt her nipples pebble.

  Alastair placed one knee on the bed, leaned over, and closed his lips around one nipple. He sucked hard, and she cried out.

  She pushed up into his mouth, not fighting him now. Oh, Jesus. It was so good.

  He switched to the other breast, one hand sliding under her and lifting her to his busy mouth. Darcy slid her hands into his hair, tugging hard. Desire was a molten fire in her belly and her panties were saturated.

  He nipped at the lower curve of her breast. “Take the dress off.”

  “Make me.” She hardly recognized her husky voice.

  Alastair pulled back, hands reaching for her ankles. His hands circled her, then his fingers slid upward. Higher. Over her calves, her knees. Higher. Sliding along her thighs, pushing her dress higher.

  Their gazes locked and the hunger she saw burning in his eyes, etched on his rugged face, made her chest tight. She couldn’t breathe, she was burning up.

  He bunched her dress higher, baring her thighs.

  “You going to do what I say?” he growled.

  “Why should I?” Her resistance was slipping. She wanted him to touch her more than she wanted anything else.

  “Because if you do, then I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll be hoarse from screaming my name as you come.”

  Her belly spasmed. Never in a million years would she have guessed that Alastair Burke would be a dirty talker in bed. It turned her on like crazy. She lifted her hips and he smiled, anticipation flaring. He sank his hands in the dress and pulled it down her legs.

  She leaned back on the bed, wearing only a tiny pair of black lace panties that revealed more than they covered.

  His gaze ran over her. “You are so damn gorgeous, Darcy Aphrodite Ward.”

  For the first time in her life, she thought her full name sounded beautiful.

  His head lowered, and he pressed a hard kiss to her lips, his tongue sliding against hers. Then she lost his mouth as it moved lower—down her neck, between her breasts, down her belly. His stubble scraped her skin, and she couldn’t stop the shocked little cries that escaped her lips.

  Then, he pressed a kiss to her hipbone and she quivered.

  “You want my mouth, baby?”

  “Yes. Yes.”

  “My tongue?”

  Another spasm in her belly. “Alastair.”

  “Damn, I love hearing my name on your lips.” He gripped her waist and flipped her over, onto her belly.

  No. “Alastair, I—”

  He gave one cheek a quick slap. “You take what I give you, Darcy. All of it.” Then his hands were caressing her, kneading the skin of her ass.

  She let out a small moan.

  “I thought I’d lost you tonight. After you went over that railing…”

  His voice cut off and she pushed aga
inst him. “I’m right here, honey. All yours.”

  “Yes, you are.” He gripped her hips, nudging her closer to the headboard. “Grip the slats, Darcy. Hard.”

  He lifted her up onto her hands and knees, and with butterflies bursting in her belly, she quickly followed orders. She wrapped her fingers tight around the wooden slats on his headboard.

  “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” His hands slid beneath the lace, stroking her.

  She pushed back against him, desperate. His fingers stroking through her damp folds felt so good. “Please.”

  His hand twisted and he tore her panties off. “I’m so hard, Darcy, and it’s all your fault.” He stroked her folds again. “Spread your knees.”

  She did instantly, with no thought to disobeying. No one had ever wanted her like this. So all-consuming and desperate. No one had ever wanted her like Alastair did.

  “Now she follows orders.” He pumped a finger inside her.

  Her hands tightened on the headboard. Yes.

  “Fucking tight. Just waiting for my cock.”

  Alastair’s frank words were winding her higher. She’d never felt desire like this, so hot, so on edge. She might not survive.

  He worked a second finger inside her. “This is mine, isn’t it?”

  He added another finger, stretching her. She moaned.

  “It’s been mine for a while.”

  “Alastair.” She pushed back against him. “More. I need—”

  “I know what you need.”

  Then she felt his hot breath on her thighs. He nudged her legs wider apart and his mouth was on her.

  Darcy cried out. Alastair Burke’s mouth was between her legs. His tongue lapped at her and her entire body trembled. God. God.

  His tongue was inside her, working her. She tried to stop the sounds escaping from her throat, but then his talented mouth found her clit.

  Her cries turned loud and desperate, her body shaking. “Alastair.”

  “Come, Darcy,” he growled against her.

  Her orgasm hit hard and her vision wavered. Wave after wave of pleasure swamped her, and she didn’t care who heard her cry out Alastair’s name.

  Chapter Twelve

  Alastair’s jaw was tight from gritting his teeth. His need for Darcy was huge, pumping inside him.

  He felt sensations clamp down on the base of his spine and his cock ached. He’d never needed anything like this. Never needed anyone the way he needed Darcy.

  Her hands were loosely holding onto the headboard. That sexy, naked body was limp and flushed. Damn, that ass. Her delicious taste was still on his tongue.

  He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed a foil packet. He tore it open with his teeth, and made short work of rolling the condom on. Then, he gripped Darcy’s waist, pulled her up, and turned her. He wanted to see her face when he slid inside her.

  Her eyelids fluttered. So damn beautiful.

  They faced each other on their knees. He knew that this woman had brought him to his knees a long time ago. He’d tried to fight it, but every interaction had tangled her with him more and more.

  Alastair slid his hand between her slim thighs and stroked. She let out a keening moan. He thrust a finger inside her. “Mine. This is mine.”

  She bit her lip.

  “Darcy, tell me.”

  “Yes, yours, Alastair. Now fuck me, please.”

  He circled her waist and lifted her. She gasped. He could tell that she liked that he could lift her so easily.

  He pressed her back to the headboard, and gripped his cock with one hand, lodging the head between her slick folds.

  “Look at me,” he growled.

  Blue-gray eyes met his, and then he slammed her down on his cock.

  She cried out.

  Fuck. Jesus. She felt so good. Hot, slick, tight. Her fingers dug into his shoulders and her head fell back.

  “God, yes.” She wrapped her legs around him.

  As he lifted her up, she drove herself back down, letting out a wild moan.

  “You feel so good, Darcy.” He worked himself inside her, sinking deep.

  “Alastair—”

  “I love being buried deep in your sweetness.”

  She gripped his shoulders, bouncing up and down, taking his cock and meeting each one of his driving thrusts.

  “Darcy.” He grunted, the pleasure growing inside him. He reached up, tugging her hair to make her look at him. “Look at me when you come.”

  “Okay.” Her nails bit into his skin and her heels dug into his ass.

  “I can feel you trembling around me.”

  She cried out, her head falling back, and she started coming.

  Alastair thrust into her, and then lodged himself deep, staying there. He yanked her closer and sank his teeth into the spot where her shoulder met her neck. She cried out again, and his orgasm slammed into him, ripping a groan from his throat.

  He knelt there, chest heaving, sensations still rushing through him. Darcy dropped her forehead to his, her arms and legs still wrapped around him.

  “Okay?” His voice was hoarse.

  “Better than okay.” She lifted her head and smiled. Her cheeks were filled with color. “That was fabulous.”

  Warmth filled his chest. After he lowered her to the bed, he kissed her, nipping her bottom lip.

  Her eyelids fluttered. “We might kill each other if we have sex like that every time, but it’ll be fantastic.”

  Alastair moved lower, brushing his teeth along her jaw, down her neck, across her collarbone. He took it slow, savoring her. She stretched under him, making a sound close to a purr.

  Darcy Ward was beneath him, wet from taking his cock, and she was perfect.

  He spotted the bruise forming where he’d bitten her and he pressed a kiss to the mark. His mark. She looked up at him, her eyes huge.

  Shit. Darcy was more than just a distraction, she was taking over his life. He felt a pressure in his chest.

  “I’m hungry,” she murmured.

  “I’ll feed you. So you have enough energy for me to fuck you again.”

  As he pushed off the bed, Darcy rose up on her elbow. She didn’t bother to hide the fact that she was checking out his naked body. After a quick stop to the bathroom to deal with the condom, he headed for the kitchen.

  After checking his phone—no messages or updates—he raided his cupboard and refrigerator, and grabbed some cheese and crackers. When he got back to his bedroom, Darcy was wrapped in a sheet. He set the plate down on the bed.

  She smiled. “You should be naked all the time.” Her nose wrinkled. “Except you look pretty darn fine in a suit.”

  “Really?”

  “I may or may not have had inappropriate thoughts of taking your suit off in the past.” She grabbed a slice of cheese and nibbled.

  Darcy was in his bed. He felt pretty damn satisfied about that.

  Then her face changed. “I wonder what the Collector is doing?” she said quietly.

  “He’d better be enjoying his last night of freedom.”

  She was quiet for a minute. “I realize now that taking down Silk Road is very personal for you.”

  He turned his head, looking at the framed picture of him and his mom. “Yeah. Losing my mother…it was why I joined the FBI, and why I helped create a team specializing in art and antiquities crime. I want justice for her.”

  “I always knew something deeper was driving you.” Darcy stroked his arm. “What happened to you after she died?”

  “Foster homes. My father was never in the picture.” Alastair chewed on a cracker. “It took me a while to settle. I had terrible nightmares for years. Every night, remembering her screams, that I was helpless to get to her.”

  Darcy’s hand slid into his and tightened. “You were a child. There was nothing you could have done.”

  He looked at her slim, competent fingers. He’d never held hands with a woman before. “My mom had nothing, came from nothing. She’d run away from a bad home as a teenage
r. But she worked hard. She was a waitress.” Alastair smiled, remembering his mother’s pretty face, the affection in her eyes. “She wanted me to have a job where I got to wear a suit.” He’d forgotten that. He’d forgotten so many of the good times in his focus on finding revenge. “She always thought people in suits had important jobs.”

  “She loved you.”

  “Yes, she did.”

  Darcy shifted, climbing onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around her, absorbing her warmth.

  “I bet your mom would love to know that you look mighty fine in a suit, Alastair.” She lowered her head, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “And pretty darn good without one, as well.”

  He barked out a laugh.

  “She’d be proud of the important job you do.”

  And as Darcy kept nibbling on his skin, he looked down at her dark head. He felt the need growing in him again. “What are you doing?”

  She looked up at him, then nudged him. He fell on his back and Darcy straddled him.

  “This time, I’m going to fuck you, Special Agent Burke.”

  “Really?” Need slammed into him.

  “And remember I told you that you’d owe me if I got those impossible, undetectable trackers for you?”

  Her smile made his gut clench. “Yes.”

  “Time to pay up.” She smiled. “Now, where are your handcuffs?”

  Darcy raced into the living room, looking for her shoes. Early-morning sex had left her feeling tremendous, but running late.

  “My shoes?”

  “Next to the front door.”

  She looked up. Alastair was in the kitchen, dressed in a crisp shirt and trousers, hair damp from the shower. Memories of the shower slammed back into her. He’d pinned her to the tiles, whispered dirty things in her ear, and given her another soul-shattering orgasm. And just as delicious was the memory of him stretched out beneath her with his hands cuffed to his headboard, muscles straining as she’d touched him. Mmm.

  She stared at him now. He was wearing his shoulder holster over his shirt, and damn, he looked sexy. Her exhausted and satiated body still reacted to the sight of him.

  “You are so damn handsome,” she said.