Killer Secrets (18 page)

potatoes. At least he had the presence of mind to wrap his
arm around her thighs and hopefully hide the

fact that she wasn't wearing panties tonight.

"You bastard!" She tried to ram her elbow into
his kidney, only to earn a hard, burning slap to her ass.

Oh no. He hadn't just smacked her butt. He wouldn't dare.

"I'll kill you myself," she screamed, trying to
deliver another blow, only to earn another burning caress as

they passed the exit.

She hated him. She hated him. She was going to kill him
herself. Oh God, just as soon as she fucked

him. Just as soon as the burning, tearing arousal echoing
from those slaps eased just enough for her to

figure out
how
to kill him.

"Get in there." An instant later she was bouncing
on another leather seat. That of the extended Hummer,

whose posh limolike facing seats, separated from the front
driver's area, were a testament to the amount

of money the Fuentes cartel had to burn.

Anger and arousal surged through her blood as she jumped
for him. A week of aching pain, too many

nightmares, and too many fears converged. The vehicle door
slammed behind him as her fists struck his

chest. His hands gripped her wrists, his larger body
slammed her back to the seat, and within a second

his lips were on hers, his body covering hers, his hands
stroking, his knee parting her thighs, his groan

meeting her moans as lust exploded between them.

She wasn't lost any more. It was her first thought as his
lips ground into hers and he anchored her body

against his. She wasn't lost, she wasn't reaching, she
wasn't trying to fill the sudden emptiness inside her

any longer. Ian was filling it. He was her match. The one
man she couldn't defeat. The other half of her

soul.

Her fingers curled as she strained against the grip he had
on her. Her hips arched, pressing her sex

tighter against the silk slacks he wore, loving the feel of
his knee pressing into her.

His lips were devouring hers. Lips, teeth, tongue, he made
good use of them all. He nipped and licked,

stroked and consumed her. He fired responses in her that
she didn't know she possessed, didn't know

she could feel.

She was the female equivalent of his dominant force. She
should be trying to claw his eyes out, not riding

his knee with lusty hunger. And she sure as hell shouldn't
be creaming so hard that the bare flesh of her

pussy was dampening his slacks.

"Son of a bitch!" His head jerked up.
"You're not wearing fucking panties."

He shifted back, his eyes focusing between her thighs,
where the hem of her dress had ridden to the top

of her legs.

"Panty lines," she mumbled, lifting to him again,
arching against the hold he still had on her wrists.

His gaze jerked back to hers, his whisky eyes burning with
hidden flames as his hair fell over his face,

giving him a sensual, warriorlike appearance.

"Panty lines?" He blinked back at her.

"The dress is tight, Ian," she groaned. "The
lines of the panties would have shown through it. Now would

you please shut up and just kiss me again?"

Just one more of those openmouthed, "steal her
soul" kisses and she might be able to save her sanity at a

later date.

"You're not supposed to be here." His free hand
followed the deep cut of the bodice of her dress, one

finger burrowing beneath the material before dragging it
over one hard, spiked nipple.

His nostrils flared. Lust raged in his eyes and in his
expression, sparking a burning flame in her womb

and whipping it to a conflagration of heat.

She could feel perspiration gathering on her face and
beneath her breasts, dampening her but doing

nothing to still the heat burning inside her.

"I'm not supposed to be anywhere else," she
moaned as his thumb and forefinger gripped the hard point,

tugging at it, tightening on it as the pressure of his grip
sent wild fingers of sensation tearing across her

nerve endings. "Let me go, Ian, let me touch you."

She was desperate to touch him. Had she ever needed to
touch a man as desperately as she needed to

touch him? She knew she hadn't. Knew that arousal and
hunger had never been so fierce, so wicked.

Almost as fierce and wicked as the dark eyes trained on her
breasts. They weren't young perky breasts.

Not like the women who had surrounded him earlier in the
club. Her breasts were full, swollen now with

need, her nipples tight and hard, begging for his
attention.

"I dream of this." His voice vibrated with dark
desires. "Seeing you restrained beneath me, your body

begging for my touch. Is that what you really want, Kira?
Don't you know what you're risking here?"

She was certain if she stopped to think about it, then she
would be terrified.

"What am I risking, Ian?" she whispered instead.
"Or are you the one scared of the risk? Afraid that

tough, hard heart of yours might be affected this
time?"

His pupils dilated, his expression tightening as his brows
lowered broodingly.

"I want you." The statement wasn't what she
expected. "All of you."

"I need you," he repeated, glaring down at her,
his body tense and fierce.

"I'm yours." She was panting? Hell, now she was
panting. She wanted him with a hunger and a

desperation she knew she had no hope of controlling.

His thumb and forefinger tightened on her nipple, sending a
flash of erotic heat clashing through her

system. "I want you beneath me or safely behind me, no
matter what. You're driving me crazy putting

yourself in danger."

She couldn't help the grin that tugged at her lips.

"No." She couldn't give him that. She wouldn't
give him that. "Do you want me, Ian, or one of the

mindless little submissives you've been fucking for years?
If it's the latter you want, then you'll have to find

it somewhere else."

She refused to be less than who she was with him. Not just
a lover, but a partner. For so many years

she had hidden who she was, always playing a role, always
aware of the mission, whichever mission it

might be. This time, she couldn't play a role. Not in his
arms. Not with her heart.

She watched the gathering ire in his expression, felt the
tension that raged in his body. But his touch

never crossed the line between pleasure and pain.

"You think this is a game with me," he stated,
his rough voice grating now. "Damn you, Kira. I can't think

for the need to touch you, to hold you. To protect
you." His fingers left her nipple but his head lowered,

his tongue swiping over the now tender tip. He nipped the
sensitive flesh, causing a shocked moan to

leave her throat as pleasure washed through her system.

"I protect myself." Her voice was weak, too weak,
as she felt his fingers at her thigh, felt his knee move

back only to have his hand cup her sex. Grind against it.
The heel of his palm rasping over her clit

deliciously. "God, Ian, when will you realize we're
together in this?"

Oh God, she could come so easily, from that touch alone.
She stared back at him, dazed, on fire for

him. All she wanted was the pleasure she had found in his
arms before. The erotic high that came from an

orgasm she had only found with him.

"You're mine while you're here. Period," he
snarled. "I won't tolerate another man touching you or you

will disappear, Kira, until this is over. Somewhere where
you'll have no chance to escape. No chance to

endanger yourself or what I'm doing here. Is this
understood?"

The erotic high fizzled just enough for her to stare back
at him in shock. He wasn't talking about sex. She

would follow behind him in this operation or he would have
her kidnapped.

"You wouldn't dare!" she whispered. Though she knew
he would. He had hardened that much further,

grown that much more determined in only eight months within
the cartel.

Fury tightened his expression. "I'm the biggest
fucking male chauvinist you'll ever meet in your life. The

thought of
my
woman in danger is more
than my guts can tolerate. You will do this my way or by God I'll

make damned sure you're protected another way."

Dominant. Overbearing. Possessive. But at least he was
admitting he was on an operation now.

"Ian, I know what I'm doing." Confusion colored
her voice and she knew it. Hell, she was a trained

contract agent and had been one for ten years now. She
wasn't exactly a new recruit to this world.

Haunting shadows flashed in his gaze before his eyes slid
down her body to where his hand cupped her

pussy, his fingers caressing it. Her breath rasped from her
chest as pleasure threatened to swamp her

senses again.

When his eyes came back to hers, they were filled with
tormented, raging desire. "I need your promise.

You'll be careful. Let me protect you. No matter
what."

"That's not an issue, Ian," she said.

"If you were hurt . . ." His throat worked
convulsively as he swallowed. "Kira. Don't make me live with

that. Don't make me have to live with your death."

What was she seeing in his eyes now? What was that lurking
demon of pain that burned like a hidden

flame?

"I could make you promise the same thing," she
said softly. And she would agree simply because in

allowing him to protect her, she could protect his back.
And his soul. Because she knew what he

intended would destroy a part of him if he were allowed to
follow through with it.

For all his crimes, Fuentes was still his father. And for
all the horror he had visited on others, he was also

still a DHS contact that they didn't want to lose. That
they couldn't afford to lose.

His fingers moved between her thighs then, two of them
pressing hard and deep, forcefully, inside her

weeping pussy. Her hips arched, one heel digging into the
leather seat, the other into the floorboard as

she worked his fingers deeper and felt the erotic flames
licking through her body.

"I find out you arranged that scene with Missern and
I'll blister your ass," he said with a groan, coming

over her, his fingers fucking into her, stretching her,
perspiration beginning to dampen her entire body. "I'll

tie you to my bed for a week, Kira. You will never play
games with me like that again."

Her head shook. "No game," she gasped, her
muscles tightening convulsively on his fingers. "Ian,

please."

His lips covered the nipple he had revealed, drawing it
into his mouth, suckling with strong, heated

hunger as pleasure began to steal her common sense.

She had never known sex could be this good. She had never
imagined it. Never thought she could

possibly lose her mind in a man's arms.

"Do you belong to me, Kira?" His head rose, his
gaze pierced hers as she forced her eyes open. "Seeing

you with Missern knowing he was ready to strike you. I
wanted him dead."

He was talking to her? Asking her something? Now? While his
fingers were filling her, stroking her, the

tips rubbing in the most pleasurable spots, areas she never
knew could feel so good.

"Belong to you?" she panted.

"Tell me you belong to me, Kira." His fingers
moved harder, deeper, plunging into the slick, saturated

muscles of her pussy as shudders of response raced through
her.

"Always." She screamed the word. She couldn't
hold it back, no more than she could hold back the

knowledge that she did belong to him in ways that even she
couldn't define.

It was a battle she would have to fight with herself later.
Not now, because now she was consumed. His