B008DKAYYQ EBOK (30 page)

Through his jeans, he was hot and hard against her hip, and she ached to have nothing between them. She started unbuttoning his fly. “You should get out of these pants.”
 

“You should get out of these shorts.” He tugged them and her underwear down her legs and off.

She fumbled with his zipper, her knuckles pressed against the bulge under the denim, and she heard his intake of breath. “Hang on there, Sparky,” she said, “I’ve almost got it.”

He chuckled, covering her hand with his. “Let me take care of that while you think of something to call me besides Sparky.”

She rolled on top of him and straddled his hips, waving away his helping hands. “Don’t. I let you torture me earlier. I want payback.”

He groaned, bowing his head back against the pillow as she worked his jeans and briefs off. She couldn’t wait to touch him, couldn’t wait to feel him inside her, filling her.

Suddenly, he flipped their positions so that she was under him. The sudden move made her dizzy, and she laughed in surprise. He reached down and snagged his jeans from the foot of the bed and dragged them up. He grinned at her as he got his wallet out of a back pocket and then a condom out of his wallet. “Lucky for us, I saw that there are more of these in the bathroom.”
 

She flushed with anticipation as he quickly took care of business, then she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him close, eager to take him finally, finally inside her.

He plunged.

She gasped.

He tensed.

She arched.

Neither moved, savoring the first intense moment of connection, the silence marred only by their rapid, shaky breathing.

He shifted, withdrawing slowly then sinking deeper this time, slow and easy.
 

She swallowed, her fingers digging into his back. “Oh … God.”

He withdrew almost completely, then slid a hand under her and lifted her hips slightly as he drove forward, faster this time, more forceful, as if he couldn’t get deep enough. “Jesus, Bailey.”
 

The strain in his voice, in his body, did wonderful things to her senses, and she spun with them. He felt so good, so right.

He kissed her as he began to move, his rhythm sure and steady as his tongue teased hers. She threaded her fingers through his hair, loving the taste of him, his smell, his texture. The way he moved and kissed and thrust.

His hand skated over her, setting off firecrackers of sensation everywhere his fingers stroked. She wondered at his ability to know exactly where she liked to be touched, how much pressure to apply, how fast or slow to do it, to make her pant. How could he know all of that already?

Or was she so responsive because she was with
him
?
 

Maybe she loved him.
 

The thought hit her with the force of an orgasm. Staggering. Breathtaking.

Was it even possible?

She hadn’t expected love to be on the menu. Lust, sure. But not love. And what do you know? It appeared to be the only damn choice, for breakfast, lunch and dinner. It was even the daily special.

She’d take it, she decided, take him. And she was greedy for more. Seconds. Thirds. And dessert. Mounds and mounds of dessert.

Whatever he had, she’d take. She’d give back as good as she got, and more.
 

She’d eat up every moment with him until she had no choice but to walk away.
 

And then how would she live without him?
 

His rhythm faltered and he stopped, his breath uneven as he trailed his lips back to her ear. “We need to slow down or I’m not going to last. You feel too damn good.”

His need exhilarated her. She did that to him.
She
did. “I’m one ahead of you anyway.”

“Are we keeping score again?”

“We can if you want.”
 

He eased back, then forward, and the wave of pleasure stunned her, made all the more intense by the emotion that rode its crest.
 

“Just so you know,” she said, her breath hitching as he plunged again, faster, harder, riding her in exactly the right spot, “I’m winning.”
 

He laughed. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
 

Another thrust and he tensed, groaning deep in his throat.
 

The sound and vibration pushed her higher. She was … so … close …

He flexed his hips, ground against her, and the orgasm slammed into her like an explosion had gone off inside her. She dug her nails into his back as she shuddered and arched under him on a ragged moan, vaguely aware that he was moving more slowly now, stroking in and out of her, expertly drawing out the waves of intense pleasure.

When she began to come down, she realized he’d stopped moving, as though waiting for her to regroup, or regrouping himself. He kissed her, slowly and deeply, one hand caressing her breast, rolling and lightly pinching her nipple in time with the hitches in her breathing.
 

He nuzzled her ear, his breath warm and moist and uneven.
 

“Are you with me?” he rasped.

She shivered at the intensity of having him still inside her, so hard and so hot, after such a powerful climax. Oh, yeah, she was with him. She was
so
with him.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes.”

“Open your eyes.”

She did and met the heat of his gaze.
 

“Stay with me,” he murmured. “Stay with me.”

He began to thrust again, more powerfully now, holding her gaze, looking into her, seeing
her
.
 

The ache built again, throbbing impossibly higher, hotter.

He began to move faster and faster, and his eyes slipped closed an instant before he bowed his head back and came, his body quaking against hers. Then he found her gaze again and reconnected, his eyes impossibly bright in the darkness.

As though her body had been waiting for that reconnection, she began to climax again, more intensely than before, the force of the pleasure made all the more powerful by Cole’s eyes fixed on hers.

* * *

“Have you ever had an out-of-body experience?”

Cole chuckled softly, his breath sawing in and out as he pressed a kiss to the side of her damp neck. “You want me to talk now?”

He was sprawled on top of her, and she loved his weight and the sensation of him still inside her. Every so often, his body shuddered, as if shocks of pleasure continued to zip through him. It thrilled her to know that being with her did that to him.
 

“I’m just saying that I think I left my body there for a minute,” she said.

“A whole minute?”

“Maybe two.”

“I don’t think I’ve returned to my body yet,” he murmured.

“I bet you feel better now, though, don’t you?”
 

His lips curved against her throat, the tip of his tongue caressed and retreated. “That’s what this was all about? Making
me
feel better?”

“Well, you were obviously having some discomfort.”

“That’s so sweet of you to look out for me like that.”

“I figured it was the least I could do, seeing as how you’ve been looking out for me all along.”

He raised his head and, bracing on his elbows, looked down at her. “You know it’s more than that, right?” His eyes, so blue, were dark now, intense, his forehead lined.
 

She closed her eyes, let the wave of emotion pick her up and carry her out to sea, away from the island she had become marooned on so long ago. She let herself float with him, basking in the warmth of his sun. Even if it was for just a little while.

“Hello?”

She opened her eyes, beamed up at him. “Hi.”

“Hi.” His lips curved, and he studied her as the seconds ticked by. “You know this isn’t just a one-time thing, right? We’re in it for the long haul.”

She shifted slightly, so that he settled more firmly against her. His breath caught, and she sighed, wishing they could stay like this forever. “You’re awfully sure of yourself.”

“I’m inside you, aren’t I?”

“Ohhh, aren’t you the cocky one.”

He laughed softly then kissed her for a long time, his tongue stroking hers as he cupped a breast and used his thumb to tease her nipple to a hard, aching peak.

The way he savored her sent her pulse tripping all over again. And, oh God, he was such an outrageously fabulous kisser. Simple kissing had never felt so … erotic. If he kissed her long enough, just like this, she would be coming again in no time.

He drew back with his lips just an inch from hers. “Surprise.”

She gazed up at him, confused. “What?”

And then she felt him lengthening and hardening inside her. And, okay,
that
was the most erotic thing ever. “Oh.”

“Think I’m ready to make you scream again.”
 

“I didn’t scream.” She gasped on the first, short thrust of his hips.
 

“Uh, yes, you did. My ears are still ringing.” His breath shuddered out as he moved slowly, gently. “Jesus, Bailey, you’re so hot and tight. I’m never going to get enough of you.”

She arched her head back into the pillow, already right there with him. Unbelievable, she thought. Simply unbelievable that he could do this to her. Make her moan and thrash and want and need. Make her forget that this couldn’t last—

“Oh, God, Bailey,” he gasped, his rhythm picking up. “I can’t go slow this time. I can’t. It’s too much.”

She grasped his butt and met him thrust for thrust, recklessly racing with him to the edge of the precipice without any grace or finesse. They hung there on the edge for only a moment before they fell together.

Chapter 41

James paced next to his car.
 

The night air was cool, the breeze carrying a hint of salt from the waves slapping at the shore less than a block away. Insects buzzed in the trees, and thick clouds tumbled across the inky sky like gray cotton balls. He could smell yet another storm coming.
 

Clenching his hand, James focused on the answering sting of the cuts he’d gotten when the broken plastic of his cell phone had sliced through skin. He flexed again, imagining how it would feel to drive his fist into Payne Kincaid’s face.

Bastard.

He turned to glare at the gate that separated him from the son of a bitch who’d ruined his life. Or at least helped. He wasn’t so foolish to think that Kincaid was entirely to blame. James knew he was responsible for his own mistakes. Still, if Kincaid had not offered him a job so many years ago, maybe none of this would have happened.

Now, that same man was trying to force him to run out on the only family he had left.

Pacing away from the gate, he dragged his hands through his hair.

Four hours ago, he’d made it as far as Tampa, where he’d pulled into the parking lot of a Publix supermarket, shut off the car and weighed his options for what felt like the millionth time in a week.

He was running.

Doing what Kincaid wanted.

He’d pointed his car north.

But he couldn’t keep going.

He remembered the last pizza he’d shared with Austin—four days ago—how his son had watched him pick up a messy piece and fold it over before taking a big bite. Austin’s little fingers had fumbled, trying to fold his own piece, which was bigger than both of his hands put together. Amused, James had helped him. Afterward, Austin had declared that pizza tasted better when you ate that way.

James had laughed with his son at the same time that the world had seemed like it was ending. Being with Austin made everything seem not that bad. Seeing that kid smile, his eyes sparkle … no high had ever been so satisfying. How was he supposed to live without that? How was he supposed to break that child’s heart by running away?

So he’d turned around, and now he stood, glaring at Kincaid’s iron gate and trying to decide what the hell to do.
 

Turn state’s evidence was the only option where James would get what he wanted: his family safe and away from a deadly dangerous man. But it would take a miracle for James to survive the host of assassins Kincaid would send after him. Could he trust the feds to keep Bailey and Austin safe?
 

“Thought you were supposed to be to Jacksonville by now.”

James whirled.
 

Dixon Ramsey stood behind him, one hand in his pocket and a cigarette in the other, as if he’d ambled up after a long stroll.
 

James squared his shoulders. “I made a U-turn.”

“Bad idea.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t give a shit what you think.”

Ramsey nodded, an odd smile turning up one corner of his mouth. He took a drag on the cigarette, blew out a long stream of smoke. “You need a plan, James.”