by Debra Webb
He tapped on the door. "Would you like that brandy now?"
Her smile stretched into a wicked grin. "Yes, please."
The door opened and he stepped inside. She drank in the sight of him, but couldn't quite quench that particular thirst by merely looking. He set the cup on the little wrought-iron table next to her tub, the one she used for shampoo and body wash.
"Thank you." She reached for the brandy and sipped it, braced her fledgling courage.
"I'll call you later tonight. Let me know if you need anything else."
Her heart bucked against her sternum. He was going to leave. She couldn't let him go…she had to do something or say something.
"Can you stay a while longer?"
God, the request came out all whiny instead of sultry. Couldn't she do anything right?
He hesitated at the door, allowed his gaze to search hers for a time before he spoke. "I'm not sure you re ally mean that the way it feels like you do."
Dammit. He obviously knew a pathetic job at seduction when he had one thrown at him.
She moistened her lips and summoned her bravado. "What does it feel like I mean?" She downed the rest of the liquid courage, suppressing the need to cough.
He sighed. She held her breath.
"You're beautiful, Jayne, and I'd like nothing better than to climb into that tub with you, but it would be a mistake. I, for one, have already made enough of those for one lifetime."
If she let him go after a confession like that she re ally was crazy.
She set the cup aside and pushed up from the steaming water. For a second she thought he might bolt, but when she stepped out of the tub he just stood there, staring at her as if…as if he felt torn in some way she couldn't fully understand. No girlfriend, no wife. No need to be torn in her opinion.
She walked right up to him and took his face in her damp hands. Before she dragged his mouth down to hers she took a long, slow look…first into those smoldering eyes, then at the planes and angles of that face she'd come to see in her dreams…and then those full lips. Her mouth watered the same way it did when she anticipated the first bite of a delectable hot-fudge sundae.
Her pulse pounded, her heart raced, but she'd never done anything this bold before and she wanted to experience every single moment and detail of it. She tiptoed, moving closer, parting her lips slightly. He held absolutely still, as if he'd read her mind and knew exactly what she intended.
The ache of need was more than she could bear…she had to touch him. She pressed her lips to his, keeping the pressure light, enjoying the sensation of his mouth against her. Warm…firm and smooth. His lips felt good. Heat seared through her, took her breath. She had to have more. She drew his bottom lip between hers, sucked it like candy, tasted the man and the lingering flavor of coffee. She moaned with the flood of sensations that washed over her.
Her hands began to move, to feel, to seek new discoveries. She loved the varying textures of man and material. Her breath came in rapid bursts…his did the same but he held completely still, waiting.
She wanted to feel his naked flesh. As she drew more deeply on his lips, sucking, enveloping, then licking, she tore at his soft undershirt. When her palms found his hot skin the urgency inside her increased to a fever pitch. Her arms went up around his neck and she closed her mouth fully over his, out of patience…needing more.
She'd wanted to make this moment last, to feel it evolve to the next level, but she couldn't slow down the pace. She wanted to experience more of him. She lavished him with fervent kisses—his face, his mouth—allowed her lips to drag over those planes and angles she'd admired for days now.
Just when she was certain he wasn't going to respond at all, his arms went around her. Those long-fingered hands glided over her wet skin, tracing, teasing. He took control of the kiss. Touched his tongue to hers, then suckled gently, drawing it into his mouth. She moaned. Buried her fingers into his thick hair. He learned her mouth with his tongue, tasted and sucked until she thought her heart would hammer right out of her chest. The lure and heat of that wicked tongue made her hungry for more.
He lifted her bottom, pressed her hips against his. He was hard. A responding desire coiled tighter inside her. He wanted her. She wanted him. Why had she waited this long? She should have kissed him the first moment she laid eyes on him.
She wanted him naked. Right now.
Pulling away from his mouth took all her willpower. They peeled off his undershirt together, tossed it aside. He yanked off one boot. Impatient, she dropped to her knees and removed the other. And then she reached for his fly, her gaze fixed firmly on his.
He didn't try to stop her, just watched as she tugged off the pants and then the long underwear the day's adventure had required. She hesitated at the snug fitting boxer briefs remaining. Her hands trembled just a little as she fingered the waistband, unable to take her eyes off the way they formed to his body, giving her a heady preview of what waited beneath that soft fabric.
She took her time, leaned closer, heard his sharp in take of breath as she kissed his lean hip. Once she'd started she couldn't stop. Her fingers curled into the waistband of that final barrier and dragged the soft fabric down his long, muscled legs. She touched him and he shuddered, balled his fingers into fists and pressed his head back against the closed door. She liked this feeling of power over him.
With more sexual daring than she'd realized she possessed she licked his entire length. The earthy taste of him, the tormented groan he exhaled fueling her confidence. The feel of his hardened length against her bare shoulder made her shiver with anticipation as she kissed her way over his ridged abdomen. Slowly, painstakingly, she licked and kissed, teased his male nipples, then stretched upward, seeking that hot, carnal mouth.
This was no slow, sweet kiss. This time it was urgent, needy and pushed her over some edge that she hadn't anticipated this quickly. He lifted her into his arms and carried her back to the tub. The water had cooled but did nothing to slow the sizzling passion building between them. Water sloshed onto the tile floor as he pulled her down on top of him beneath the water's enveloping embrace. She could feel that hard ridge of flesh beneath her, throbbing, pulsating with need. He pulled her to him, trailed a finger over her breast. She gasped. Wanted more.
He tilted her lips up to his and his hands moved over her now with renewed urgency, making her body mindlessly arch and undulate in search of the fulfillment only he could give. But she couldn't bear to leave his mouth and those mind-blowing kisses, couldn't stop touching his face long enough to do what needed to be done. His hands curled around her waist and lifted her upward, drawing her greedy mouth from his, at the same time, bringing her breast to his mouth. She braced her hands against the rim of the tub and gasped at the feel of his seeking mouth on her breast.
While he pleasured one breast with those skilled lips, he satisfied the other with his hand, plucking her tender nipple, cradling her roundness. Her thighs squeezed on either side of his hips. She couldn't stop that instinctive back and forth movement of her own hips. Every move pushed her closer and closer to release. The feel of his sex pressing against her, hard and smooth, was driving her mad. She wanted him inside her.
As if anticipating her desperation, his free hand slid between her legs, touched her. She cried out, unable to contain the wanton sound.
He shifted his tip into position but stopped her when she would have sunk onto him. She searched his eyes, a question in her own. He cupped her face in his hands and pulled her to him for one more of those slow, easy kisses. Every emotional barrier she kept locked so securely crumbled helplessly.
As precious as that kiss was, her body ached to be filled by him. To complete this mating. He didn't make her wait any longer. He settled his hands on her hips and ushered her downward.
Climax came in a landslide of sensation…of pure pleasure.
He wrapped his arms around her and rolled her onto her back sending more water cascading over the rim of the tub. He held
still until she could breathe again…think again and then he started the whole process over again. He thrust long and deep, taking his time, kissing her like she'd never been kissed before. And then she knew why he'd waited until she recovered. He didn't want her to miss anything…wanted her to feel every inch of him, every thrust, until she flew apart in his arms once more and he came with every bit as much force as she did.
* * *
HEATH HAD NEVER shampooed a woman's hair before. He liked it. He liked it a lot.
"That was amazing," she said, sitting upright, her legs still wrapped around his waist. He'd lost count of the number of times they'd added more hot water to the tub. They had taken their sweet time washing each other's body, relishing the simple act of touching.
"If you think that was amazing, wait till I do this." He took her hand in his and kissed each fingertip and then the palm of her hand. She sighed dreamily. He was certain he'd kissed every part of her at least twice and still she responded like it was the first time.
"You know," she said drawing his gaze up to hers, "I'd planned to spend this night questioning you."
He leaned back in the tub, loving the hell out of the view. She had a gorgeous body. But that was no surprise. The size and tilt of her breasts were every man's fantasy. He couldn't help reaching out to touch one.
"I'm serious." She batted his hand away.
"Okay. I'll behave." He clasped his hands across his chest and gave her his undivided attention…well most of it anyway. There wasn't a damned thing he could do about the reaction of his sex to her round bottom.
"Why don't you take notes?"
He frowned in confusion. "What notes?"
She folded her arms over her chest, hiding those luscious breasts from his view. "Notes. You are writing a story, right?"
He gave himself a mental kick. "Oh, yes." He shook his head. "I don't need notes." He grappled for some explanation. "I'd rather observe and then tell the story in my own words."
That appeared to satisfy her on that score. "But what about questions? Don't you have more questions for me? Additional background information for your story?"
Now she was worried about whether he was legit. She was running scared. He had to do something about that. A deliberate smile kicked up the corners of his mouth. "I've been asking questions. Just check with your friends, like Rafe."
Her serious expression rearranged into surprise. "Oh." Then she fired off another question. "What did you mean last night when you said forgive me?"
He carefully schooled any reaction to her reminder of his one slip in composure. Forgiveness was some thing he did not expect…not when she learned the truth.
Dodging her question, he threaded the fingers of one hand into her hair and pulled her close. "Don't do this, Jayne. Just let me make love to you."
She hesitated, then surrendered without a fight. He made it worth her while. He kissed her until they both had to come up for air. With that done, he lifted her out of the tub careful of the numerous towels they'd scattered about to soak up the water.
He settled her on her feet and took his time smoothing a towel over her skin, kissing her shoulder, her elbow…every part of her the terry cloth touched. When her breathing grew as choppy as his own, he swung her off her feet and carried her to the bed. He lowered her to the sheets, his eyes never leaving hers. He wanted her to see how much this meant to him. How much she meant to him.
He kissed his way down her satiny skin, pausing to pay special attention to her breasts, something he'd just learned she loved. He traced a scar on her leg with his tongue and made a mental note to ask about that later, then licked and suckled until she quivered beneath his touch…until she begged for him to finish it.
And still he tortured her…tortured himself with the most intimate of acts. He spread her legs wide and tasted her. She arched upward, her fingers knotting in the sheets. He didn't want her to forget the way he'd loved her…had to imprint his touch on her memory. He had to have her until he exhausted himself. He wanted her so much…had thought himself incapable of feeling this way again. It was a blessing and a curse.
He couldn't think about that tonight.
Nothing else mattered…not the future or the past. There was only here and now. He couldn't let it go.
"Please." She reached for him and he could not deny her.
He moved up over her with the knowledge that she was right on the verge of going over the edge. Her body writhed with needy impatience under his. She couldn't catch her breath.
He kissed her cheek. Just like the first time he'd kissed her…before her birthday party.
"No more," she pleaded. Her legs wrapped around his and pulled his hips toward hers.
He pushed inside her in slow, agonizing increments. His entire body shook with the effort of restraint. She clawed his back, surged upward and the control he'd held on to for so long snapped. He pounded into her until she screamed his name…until he followed her over that emotional cliff and altered the landscape of his heart forever.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Inside the Colby Agency
Cole Danes turned off the portable remote observation monitor and pushed away from the desk.
He moved to the wall of windows overlooking the city of Chicago. Lights glittered in the darkness for miles all around him like fallen stars. Maybe there was a single sentimental cell left inside him after all, but he doubted it. More likely his mental waxing was a result of boredom.
He'd underestimated Heath Murphy's self-discipline. He'd expected this physical bonding twenty-four hours ago.
Cole crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his chin. There would be no more waiting, however. Stephens would act at once as he'd done in the past.
Murphy was no fool. Even with next to no facts on the case, he'd figured out the target's motivation as well as his M.O. That definitely merited high marks.
Cole smiled. He'd made the right choice.
Stephens would have no recourse but to reach out to any and all contacts. He would need to know who'd breached his carefully constructed security.
Tonight had given Cole the reassurance he'd needed. Murphy would not fail, nor would he require backup. He would eliminate the target without hesitation. Stephens would provide the necessary motivation…it was his one fatal flaw. His emotions where his daughter was concerned were unerringly predictable. And that would be the death of him.
Then justice would be served on all counts.
Cole turned out the lights and walked out of Victoria Colby-Camp's office.
The next move was the target's.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jayne lay still for long minutes, watching the morning sun creep into her bedroom. Fingers of golden light reached across the bed, highlighting the masculine planes and ridges of Heath's muscular body. A smile played around the corners of her mouth as she considered how warm and secure she felt in bed with this man. The feeling was so unfamiliar, surreal almost…like a fantasy come to life. He made her feel complete. Complete on some level she'd never known existed before now. She'd felt a kind of bond the two other times she'd fallen for a guy, but nothing to compare with this.
She didn't want to think, she just wanted to enjoy this moment. Overanalyzing was a bad habit of hers. Searching for the hidden agenda behind everything good in her life was growing tiresome. This was good. Heath was good. Being with him made her feel fulfilled, something she'd been lacking for a very long time.
A soft sigh whispered past her lips. She could look at him like this forever. Shadows still obscured his face but she knew every angle and curve by heart. A day's growth of beard gave him a rugged, almost dangerous air. That smile nudged at her lips once more. She liked his strength, even that hint of mystery that shrouded him.
A reporter who asked few questions. By his own ad mission he preferred diving into a subject and then writing the story in his own words. After last night, she decided that she liked that strategy herself. Diving in was very, very good, she mus
ed.
Memories of the water sloshing over the sides of the tub, and Heath pulling her down on top of him filtered through her mind like a movie in slow motion. The way he'd kissed her. Her smile widened to a grin. The way she'd kissed him. Boldly, wantonly. Now that was a first. She'd liked that power. Had loved the feel of his skin against hers, of his body mated fully with hers. Soft moans, savage groans, urgent pleas combined with the sounds of their bodies coming together in those final frantic moments. And the sweet, earthy fragrance of their lovemaking.
Heat simmered inside her, making her wet and restless with anticipation, making her want to push him onto his back and climb aboard.
And why not do just that?
She'd decided to go for it. To put aside her usual inhibitions and defenses. There was no rule that said this had to be a one-time thing. They could make love at every opportunity for as long as Heath was in town.
An ache pierced her. Because she was certain that when he was gone she'd never be able to feel like this with anyone else.
No more thinking.
She smoothed her hand over that awesome chest. His lids fluttered open and those dark brown eyes instantly cleared of sleep and focused on her. He smiled, the sexiest damned smile she'd ever laid eyes on.
"Good morning," he murmured, his voice husky with sleep and with the desire that promptly shimmered in his eyes.
She had done that. Her touch had set him off the same as merely looking at him had done her.
He didn't resist as she pushed him onto his back. To the contrary, he relaxed into the pillow, his arms thrown over his head, those corded limbs resting on either side.
"Don't move," she ordered.
He licked his lips, his gaze settling intently on hers.
"Not even if you put a gun to my head."
Raising up on all fours, she straddled him, braced one hand next to his face and leaned down to taste those tempting lips as she simultaneously rubbed her moist heat along his smooth, hard length. "I woke up wanting you," she whispered breathlessly, her voice reflecting the wondrous glow she felt inside at the memory.