Femme Fatale (15 page)

Blake reached across the white linen tablecloth to take her hand in his. Her skin was so soft and silky against his that he had to struggle to maintain his train of thought. “I’m sorry, baby. I really didn’t want it to come to this.”

She shrugged. “If Esther can’t get on board with me doing the right thing, then she wasn’t the agent for me, anyway.”

“It’ll work out.”

She grew thoughtful. “I’ve been thinking about what you said to me a while ago. About how if I’m not true to myself now, I might end up with nothing that really matters to me. You were right.”

He leaned back, grinning. “Of course I was. I’m always right.”

She laughed, and he reveled in their easy companionship. Not only did he love her body, but he genuinely enjoyed
her
. Her intelligence and kindness. Her sense of humor. Her quick wit. She was an endlessly fascinating human being…on top of being the hottest woman he’d ever had the pleasure of bedding.

As usual, their conversation ranged all over the place, from politics to poetry and everything in between. Their plates had just been taken away and they were deep into discussion about whether or not they were too full for desert when a commotion broke out in front of the restaurant. Every time the door opened, the uproar disturbed the quiet inside. Blake glanced over, his senses on high alert.

“You were right,” he told Olivia grimly. “McDumbass couldn’t pass up the chance to make a scene.”

“Are you okay with this? We can still duck out through the kitchen and get out of here.”

“Your film needs the publicity, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“And I still need to convince the Russians I’m not the guy they’re looking for. You were right to suggest that I hide in plain sight. It’s my best bet to get them off my back.”

“When will you know if the CIA’s going to make the trade?” she asked anxiously.

He shrugged. “No telling. A few days, maybe a few weeks.”

She looked like she was having a major attack of buyer’s remorse now that it was time to face Jeremy and the press.

He squeezed her hand. “You did me a favor. I’m happy to return the favor. And I won’t have to start the fight. McDumbass will take care of that for me.” He didn’t add that he couldn’t wait to take the wimp on, had been aching for it ever since the dickwad trashed Olivia’s reputation. Slow death wasn’t an option, but a good pummeling that left no scars would go far toward assuaging Blake’s anger.

He pushed to his feet and held out his hand to her. She wrapped hers around the crook of his elbow and snuggled against his side. He loved the feel of her leaning into him like he could protect her from anything on earth.

He led her toward the exit with one last instruction. “If I tell you to let go of my arm, do it fast and then jump out of the way. I don’t want you to get hurt when I send the kid flying.”

“He’s had some martial arts training—”

“Honey, I’m trained to kill seasoned warriors with my bare hands. This won’t be a fair fight.”

She gazed up at him, her eyes big and dark with worry. He dropped a quick kiss on the end of her nose as he reached for the door. “Trust me, sweetheart.”

They stepped outside into a circus. The paparazzi shouted at Jeremy. He cursed back at them. Blake noted the camera lenses swing toward Olivia and him as soon as they appeared, and Jeremy wasted no time turning on them, either.

Blake stepped in front of her. “How are you doing, Jeremy?”

“I’m going to kick that lying bitch’s ass is how I’m doing!”

“Been drinking a little, have we?” Blake asked evenly. McDaniels reeked of whiskey. Nothing like a little alcohol-induced courage to make an ass out of a man.

“Fuck you, bastard. You’re so fired when I get done talking to Adrian. I got the last military bastard shit-canned, and I’ll get you tossed out, too.”

Blake shrugged. “No loss. You make a shitty soldier, anyway.”

Jeremy reached up respectably fast with both hands and shoved hard at Blake’s chest. Blake absorbed the impact and merely rocked back slightly on his heels. “Don’t make a bigger fool of yourself than you already have, Jeremy,” he said blandly. As he expected, the calmer he got, the more it infuriated the actor.

“I’ll kick
your
ass!” Jeremy shouted. He took a swing at Blake’s face.

Blake jerked back easily from the flailing fist. “You made two mistakes, there, Sparky. First, you telegraphed the blow. Second, kid, you took way too big a swing. You have to keep it more compact.” He jabbed lightning fast with his left fist and connected hard with Jeremy’s chin. The actor’s head snapped back. “Like that.”

“God damn you!”

And the fight was on. All five seconds of it. Just long enough for Jeremy to charge and for Blake to sidestep, catch Jeremy in a head lock, and drive him to the ground.

“Sonofabitch!” Jeremy grunted from underneath the knee on his neck.

“I was trying not to mark up your face,” Blake commented casually. “But if you want me to let you up and beat the shit out of you, we can do that.”

“Get off me,” Jeremy growled.

Blake stood and stepped back to let Jeremy recover his feet, if not his dignity. Halfway to his feet, the actor lunged, a flash of metal in his fist. Olivia screamed and Blake leaped away, barely escaping a knife in the gut.

“I remembered what you taught me,” the actor taunted. “If you want to win a fist fight, bring a knife, right?”

Not amused now, Blake stepped in fast and chopped down hard across the back of Jeremy’s hand. Howling, the actor dropped the knife and commenced rolling around on the ground like he’d cut the guy’s hand off. Blake stepped across the guy’s prone form and wrapped Olivia, who had her hands over her mouth in horror, in a quick fierce hug.

“See? Not a mark on me, baby,” he whispered into her hair.

Her hands went around his waist and she hugged him like she was never going to let go.
If only
.

He tucked her under his arm and she shook like a leaf against his side. As he guided her away from the restaurant, he told the paparazzi, “When McDumbass gets done screaming, tell him I said it’s neither nice nor smart to pull a knife on a real soldier.”

The photographers laughed while shooting pictures of Jeremy sprawled on the ground making an ass of himself. One of them even shouted, “Hey, Liv. You picked the right one.”

Another shouted, “Go Army!”

Praise the Lord. If the press believed he was some fictitious ex-Army sergeant, and not the Marine he actually was, maybe the Russians would, too.

Blake hustled her away from the restaurant and toward her town car. She’d paid the limo company to have her driver stick around in case they needed to make a quick getaway. “I’m so sorry,” she said low. “I had no idea he’d pull a knife on you. I’d never have put you in that situation if I’d known—”

He pressed his fingertips against her mouth. “It’s no big. Jeremy’s sitting up right about now and giving the boys a great photo op, and I’m here with you, safe and sound. Don’t give it another thought.” He added as he ushered her into the car, “Jerks like him want to take a swing at a Marine to see if we’re as tough as we say we are. Comes with the territory.”

“I feel kind of bad for him. I did set him up and provoke him.”

Blake snorted. “He’s a big boy. He should know how to hold his booze and control his temper better. And if he didn’t want you spreading stories about him, he shouldn’t have spread stories about you first.”

Olivia looked slightly less mortified. He slipped in beside her and drew her into his arms for the short ride back to the hotel. “Is there some way I can take your mind off him?”

It started as a sidelong look and turned into a smile so sexy his heart skipped a beat. “There might be,” she drawled.

When they got back to the hotel, this time she took the lead, drawing him into the bathroom by both hands. He stood still as she stripped his clothes off of him and then performed a strip tease for him that had him about jumping out of his skin. But every time he reached out for her she stepped back and wagged a reproving finger at him.

He was getting tired of the game by the time she turned on the shower and drew him into the large, glassed-in enclosure. Whether it was them or the hot water that steamed up the glass and heated the space to sauna-like temperatures, he couldn’t tell. But as her soap-slippery hands slid all over his body, he groaned with delighted lust. When her right hand slid up and down his shaft and her left hand slid lower to cup his balls, the game was over. He surged forward, lifting her by the waist and backing her into the tile wall.

She linked her legs around his waist and pulled his hips to her, impaling herself on him with a cry of pleasure as he filled her with every inch of his rock hard cock. She was tight and hot and slick, and as she rocked against him, he gritted his teeth against exploding right that second.

“How long can you take it?” she asked wickedly, as he set up a steady, maddening rhythm of stroking and sliding and writhing, making her ride his cock slow then fast, soft then hard.

Vixen
. Now he would have to hold out as long as he could. Long enough to make her scream with her own pleasure. To make her throw her head back, giving him the slender column of his neck to bite and lick, to make her arch her back even harder, thrusting her breasts up and forward for his tongue and teeth to tease and nip until she thrust her hands into his wet hair and tugged his face up to hers.

She shuddered around him once, twice, three times before she begged. For more. For it to stop. For him to take her to the moon. And finally, simply, for him to do whatever he wanted to her.

Never pulling out of her, he stepped out of the shower, pausing only long enough for her to turn off the water. Wet and dripping, he carried her to the bed. He laid her down on her back long enough to swing her left leg up and over his head, maneuvering her in a one-eighty-degree-turn. He lifted her hips up and back to him, posing her on the bed on her elbows and knees, her beautiful teardrop-shaped ass high in the air, presented to him for the plundering. His cock still buried inside her, he reached between her legs to stroke her clit with his finger in time with his cock stroking her body. She trembled, her entire body rosy with sex and the hot shower, and cried out as a violent shudder passed through her. God, she was beautiful when she came apart like that.

She reached between her legs and surprised him by returning the favor, cupping his balls, squeezing and tugging lightly in rhythm with her internal muscles doing the same. The pulling, sucking sensation was too much. With a shout he came, thrusting into her over and over as her body and hand milked him dry.

Supporting his upper torso on his elbows, he collapsed on top of her, spooning his belly against her back. He nibbled his way across the back of her neck to her velvet soft earlobe.

He murmured lazily, “How on earth did you not know before now how sexual a creature you are?”

She answered simply, “Because I hadn’t met you.”

Something deep within him went still at her declaration. The deep kind of quiet when snow falls and blankets the entire world in silence. Eventually he replied, “It’s the same for me. I’m no monk, but…wow, that was really amazing.”

“Addictive, isn’t it?” she murmured.

Yes. It was.
She
was. He couldn’t imagine leaving this—leaving her—and returning to his regularly scheduled routine. She was part of his life, now. Maybe even the biggest part of it. The married guys in his unit talked about their wives like that and he’d always thought they were nuts. But he got it, now.

Olivia, his wife? The thought made him snort. She would never agree to such a thing. She was a young, rising star and had her whole life in front of her. Why would she hitch herself to a rough-edged soldier who couldn’t do a damned thing to help her career?

“Blake?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you have any fantasies? You know. Stuff you’ve never tried before with a girl that you’ve always wanted to do?”

Yeah. To find one exactly like her, marry her, and make love to her every day and every night for the rest of his life. And in between, laugh and love and raise a family with her. “Why?” he asked cautiously. “Is there anything you’re dying to try?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about a few things…”

He rolled on his back and drew her onto his chest. She propped herself on her elbows to look down at him solemnly. “Tell me,” he ordered.

He thought she might be blushing, but it was hard to tell in the faint moonlight. She said shyly, “After I got over being furious at you for it, I was kind of turned on by being tied up. And in the limo that first night when you rode back to town with me…”

“You mean when you tried to breathe the whiskey and ended up across my lap with your perfect little derriere sticking up in the air begging to be spanked?”

She gasped. “So you were turned on by that, too?”

He laughed. “I wanted you so bad I could barely stand it. I wanted to strip you bare and watch your ass turn pink and then cherry red as it heated up under a nice, sharp spanking. To see you squirm as the burn spread between your legs and you got so horny you begged me to take you right there.”

“Oh my. We
do
think a lot alike, Major Ramsey.”

“Any other dirty thoughts you’ve been harboring in that clever mind of yours?”

Her gaze grew distant, maybe even a little wistful. He couldn’t wait to hear what put
that
look in her eyes.

“It actually doesn’t have anything to do with sex. But I’d really like to wake up in your arms in the morning. To have the sun shining in on us as we laze in bed and maybe talk about what we’re going to do that day.”

His heart hitched. “Anything else?”

She laughed a little. “Give me time. I’m sure I’ll think of more. Those were just the first few things that came to mind.”

It sounded as if she were actually considering making this an ongoing enterprise between them. Was it possible that she wasn’t just pretending to love him a little? That she meant it when she said she wanted to stay with him?