His to Take (20 page)

But she knew she’d seen him somewhere in the past.

“I’m sorry. Who is he?”

“His name is McKeevy. Does that sound familiar?”

She’d never heard of him. “No. Should it?”

Joaquin shrugged. “He’s the top assassin for LOSS. We think he’s trying to crash Callie’s
wedding this weekend.”

Bailey gasped. “And kill her. What are Sean and Thorpe going to do? They can’t let
him anywhere near her. Even the sight of him made my heartbeat surge. Fear is pressing
in on my chest. I associated his face with danger before you told me anything about
him. They have to protect Callie.”

“They will.” He discarded the picture and the sketch on the nightstand, then clasped
her shoulders. “I’ll put the picture away for now. Take a deep breath. Relax.” He
waited until she’d complied. “Any chance you saw him when you were very young?”

Filtering back through her memories, she knew he hadn’t come from her recent past.
“Probably. It’s the only thing that adds up.”

“But you can’t place him?” When she shook her head, Joaquin caressed her shoulders
with his thumbs, a gentle comforting. “All right. Put it in the back of your head
for now. Maybe something will occur to you. But don’t be scared. You’re safe with
me. I’ll keep you that way.”

Bailey believed him. As long as Joaquin watched over her and stayed one step ahead
of the crazies of LOSS, she’d be alive. But would she have a life? “I’d love to, but
I don’t think I have that luxury. Maybe you should leave the photo here with me tonight
so I can study it.”

He hesitated, and his expression told her he didn’t love the idea. In the end, his
logic prevailed. “All right.”

“Sean and Thorpe must be so worried about Callie.”

“I’m sure, but they’d move mountains to keep her from harm’s way.”

“They’ve done it before,” Bailey agreed.

“I’d do the same for you.”

She swallowed down a lump. “You don’t have to say that. I’m going to cooperate, so
buttering me up isn’t necessary.”

“Is that what you think I’m doing?” Thunder crashed across his expression, his dark
brows sliding over his eyes that lit with anger like lightning.

“Your case hinges on me. It seems like common sense—”

“Baby girl, when it comes to you, I got off the ‘common sense’ bus a while ago. If
I hadn’t, I’d still be interrogating you day and night. Sleep and food would be on
the back burner. In fact, I’d be facilitating your exhaustion to see if it would loosen
your tongue or if I could trip you up in inconsistencies. In short, I’d be doing everything
I could to leave you unsettled and off balance in the hopes it could help my case.”

Instead, he was putting her comfort and mental well-being first. “None of that would
make me remember the past any faster.”

“You might be surprised.”

She reared back. “You’ve employed those tactics before?”

“I’ve done things that would make you recoil in horror. I did them without blinking.
Getting answers was my job. I did it. I moved on.” He sighed. “Then came you.”

“You said I had nothing to do with your job.”

“You never did. I wasn’t working this case for anyone but me and the people who’ve
been slaughtered. I don’t really give a shit that the U.S. government fired me. It
gives me more time and energy to keep you safe. There’s another job out there. But
there’s only one you.”

Oh, goodness.
He knew exactly what to say to make her believe that she mattered, to make it okay
to want him. Bailey already knew Joaquin was more than she could handle. Her one experience
in the back of a limo on prom night hadn’t prepared her for all his masculine aggression.
He scared her even as he turned her on more than she’d imagined possible.

Bailey swallowed. Guard her heart or throw her body into the fire? What good in life
had come from protecting her feelings? So, Ryan Fuller, the butthead who had taken
her virginity, hadn’t really cared about her. She’d been more humiliated than hurt.
She’d recovered. Joaquin might not be Prince Charming, but all the testosterone he
exuded made it hard to refuse him. To be honest, she liked him more than a little.
When it came to doing right, his moral compass seemed to be set to true north. His
methods might be unorthodox, but he sought justice, even above his own career and
personal relationships. Bailey had to admit she found that wildly attractive.

Besides, having a killer hunt her brought home the fact that tomorrow wasn’t a given.
Or was she just rationalizing because she wanted Joaquin so badly?

“Really, you don’t have to say that to make me cooperate with your investigation.”

He dragged her closer. “Damn it, we’ve been over this. You know better.” His fingers
tightened. “And if you can’t remember, let me remind you. Tell me to kiss you.”

Joaquin hovered now, so close his breath warmed her lips. His stare delved into hers,
demanding, urgent. But his touch remained gentle. He checked himself for her. In fact,
he’d revealed one of his deepest pains and shared it with her. That had to mean something.

Bailey pulled herself from his drowning stare, her gaze skating over the hollows of
his cheeks and the firm angles of his chin. His lips, full and so close, waited for
her.

God, she was probably going to regret this.

“Kiss me,” she panted.

Not even a single beat of her heart passed before he tumbled her back to the bed.
The second her back hit the mattress, his fingers dug into her hair, fisting tightly
at her nape. He angled her head to his liking and devoured her lips. His chest eclipsed
hers. His hips wedged between her thighs, making himself at home.

Bailey couldn’t lie to herself and say she didn’t like it. As he drove his tongue
deep and took command of the kiss, all her self-control and will to resist disappeared.
He didn’t ease inside or test his welcome. No, he crushed her lips with his own and
took complete command.

He tasted like a heady swirl of man, beer, and desire. The stubble of his way-past-five-o’clock
shadow scraped gently as he grabbed her wrists and shoved them over her head. As soon
as he transferred his grip to one hand, he took deeper possession of her mouth, his
tongue surrounding hers, laving, seducing. He gripped her hip, his fingers holding
her tight.

Under him, Bailey arched restlessly. His onslaught was everything she remembered—unrelenting
and insistent—but more. Hungrier. Somewhere between another swooping kiss and a long
groan, she tasted his hot persuasion. Less than twenty-fours had passed since he’d
last seized her mouth, but his touch vowed it had been a lifetime to him.

Her head spun. Her heart soared. Her only anchor in this dizzying desire was Joaquin.
She couldn’t throw her arms around him, so she wrapped her legs around his hips and
ground against his thick erection. He prodded her sex, sending an electric impulse
skittering between her legs.

The appreciation in his moan inflamed her more. He knew precisely how to enthrall
her, and he used his knowledge without hesitation. Bailey floated in a thick morass
of need she’d only believed possible in books or movies. It scattered logic. It set
her body aflame.

She whimpered and opened her mouth wider. Joaquin claimed the space instantly. Her
whole world narrowed to him alone as she caressed his tongue with her own, still pushing
her hard nipples into his chest and gyrating on his cock between her legs.

He tore his lips from hers, breathing heavily. Searching her stare, he cupped her
nape again, and aligned her under his mouth for his next conquering kiss.

“Tell me to take off your shirt,” he murmured first.

She craved the touch of his fingers on her bare skin. “Touch me.”

“I want to so fucking bad, I’m about to crawl out of my skin. But you’re going to
have to tell me that you want me to rip that little shirt off your body and expose
those pretty nipples before I lay a finger on you. Full consent or nothing.”

Bailey couldn’t catch her breath. Her blood heated, raced, churned. As he dragged
his lips up her neck and skimmed across her jaw to hover just above her mouth, she
knew she’d say almost anything to feel him inside her.

“Take my shirt off,” she gasped. “I want you to see me.”

Joaquin didn’t hesitate. He didn’t bother with buttons or dragging the garment over
her head. He released her wrists, fisted the silky soft fabric just above her breasts,
and yanked. It gave easily, rending under his strength.

Cool air splashed her skin. The hot flame of his stare negated the chill. Her nipples
beaded under her bra. The way he looked at her, like he’d die if he didn’t take her,
made Bailey reach for him.

The second she wrapped her hand around his shoulder, she wished he’d lose his shirt.
Everything under the cotton felt steely, unyielding. She was no stranger to men with
good physiques. Dancers were always well developed. The strength and discipline necessary
to execute lifts made for cut chests, bulging shoulders, and tight abs. But Joaquin
excited her more. He hadn’t developed his muscles by wearing spandex and lifting women
who weighed less than a hundred pounds. He’d earned his on the streets, in battle,
trying to make the world a safer place.

“Take this off.” She tugged at his sleeve.

He raised a black brow at her but didn’t move.

“Please . . .” She wheedled, kissing her way up his chin, brushing the corner of his
lips.

“If we’re both undressing, you understand it’s very likely I’m going to fuck you.”

“I haven’t said yes,” she reminded him with a sly smile.

Joaquin propped his elbow on the mattress beside her head, his face hovering over
hers. “I wouldn’t stop until I found a way to make you scream your consent. You think
about that, then let me know if you want me to start stripping down.”

The girl inside her knew she ought to heed his words. Some devil inside her prodded
her.

“Making me scream sounds pretty ambitious. It may not be something you’re able to
do.”

He froze. “If you have any intention of putting a stop to this, don’t tease me. Because
I’ll be so fucking happy to prove you wrong.”

His words only whipped her into a darker frenzy. Bailey had little doubt he could
do exactly as he threatened. And the idea made her sizzle. “Please take off your shirt.”

A slow smile spread across his face. “You’re in so much trouble, baby girl. I’m going
to enjoy the hell out of this—and make sure you do, too. I won’t rest until I’ve wrung
every ounce of pleasure from your body.”

“Promise?”

At her taunt, he gave her a low laugh, then raised himself up enough to straddle her.
He didn’t make a production of removing his shirt, just reached behind his head, gathered
it in his fist, yanked, and flung it across the room.

Bailey gasped. Each inch of him rippled and bunched with every movement. Dark satin
skin stretched across hard flesh. A light dusting of hair over his chest led to a
treasure trail that zipped down the line bisecting his chiseled abdomen. Honestly,
if she had conjured up a fantasy man, he’d have looked a heck of a lot like Joaquin.

“Your turn,” he said thickly, sliding a finger under her bra strap. “Tell me to take
it off.”

She swallowed down nerves. As a ballet dancer, she wasn’t exactly the most gifted
in the breast department. Small boobs worked great in a leotard, and she never had
to worry about curves messing up her lines. It was even a bonus when she wanted to
wear something backless or strapless because she didn’t have to worry about finding
the right garment to support girls she lacked. But staring a potential lover in the
face . . . A man as downright manly as Joaquin probably expected ample breasts. He’d
probably had some beautiful ones in his past.

“I’d rather see you lose the rest of your clothes.”

“Maybe so, but I might not be motivated to lose my pants until I see your nipples.
Give me permission to strip you out of that bra.”

His gaze looked fixated on her breasts. The undergarment didn’t hide much. He had
to be able to see that, well, there wasn’t that much to see. Her legs and her butt
were way better.

“You seem like the kind of guy who always gets what he wants. I’m in the mood to make
you wait.” She gave him a mock sigh. “But after bagels and booze and other stuff I
almost never eat, these jeans are awfully tight.”

As she toyed with the button just below her waist, he watched. “Are they? We can’t
have you uncomfortable. You want to lose those or do you want help?”

If she dropped these jeans, the chances they’d actually have sex increased exponentially.
Bailey doubted very highly that he’d be okay with making love to her with her breasts
still covered. On the other hand, maybe she could occupy him in other ways before
she had to expose her nonexistent chest.

“Why don’t you help me?” She dropped her fingers to her zipper and let it fall with
a quiet hiss.

Joaquin gripped the denim, looking at her like he couldn’t wait to tear into her.
Her heart skipped. Blood rushed to all the places it only should when aroused. Lord,
she was probably in way over her head. So why was she baiting the beast? Because he
made her feel desired and sexy, and she wanted him every bit as on edge as she felt.

“I can’t resist a damsel in distress.” He tugged on the fabric around her hips.

As she held on to the lacy waistband of her nude panties, he made quick work of her
jeans, jerking them down her thighs, past her knees, then shoving them beyond her
feet. He tossed them across the room, too—in the opposite direction he’d thrown her
shirt.

As he looked down at her now, his eyes darkened, glittered with lust. He gripped her
hips, his hands so big that his thumbs almost met on top of her mons. Bailey’s breath
caught. He nearly touched her
there
, and as electric as her body pinged now, she couldn’t imagine how turned on she’d
be when he actually did.

“Pretty panties, but useless. I want to see that beautiful pussy underneath.”