Ring of Lies (65 page)

‘
Why now?
’

His expression was tight with strain.
‘
Because we got lucky tonight.
Next time, things might not go our way.
I just don’t want you to get hurt.
’

‘
I’m not going to run away, Jack.
’

He gathered her into his arms.
‘
Yo
u wouldn’t be running away. You woul
d be protected.
’

She smiled at him.
‘
You protected me.
’

‘
And a damn poor job I did. Look at you
. Y
ou’re covered in cuts and scratches.
’

Grace smiled, touched by his concern.
‘
They’re not your fault. I’ll put some antiseptic cream on after I’ve showered,
’
she said and traced the line of the cut on his cheek.
‘
Your face—
’

‘
Is fine.
’

‘
At least let me put a dressing on it.
’

‘
Stop worrying about me.
’
He captured her right hand and kissed her fingertips. Her breath hitched. It was the most seductive thing she’d ever experienced. He turned her hand and taste
d
each one of her fingers before his lips moved across her palm to the sensitive flesh at the base of her wrist.

‘
What are you doing?
’

‘
What I’ve dreamt of doing every night for the last six months.
’

Grace’s eyes widened. She started to say something, but the words never formed. His mouth covered hers hungrily, his tongue gentle and probing. Currents of desire rippled through her. Instinctively, her arms went around his neck, her lips parted as he gave her what she wordlessly sought.

Heat chased through he
r body, and settled in the pit of her stomach
. She could feel his heart thudding against her breast and felt the answering beat of her own. His hand slipped under her sweatshirt, and explored the soft lines of her back, waist and hips, his fingers teasing and arousing her. Shivers of delight followed his every caress, flooding her body with desire.

When he finally ended the kiss, Grace rested her cheek on his chest with a sigh of pleasure, her breathing almost as ragged as his.

‘
I meant every word I said earlier. I want to make love to you, Grace. I have done since the day we met. But—
’

‘
But you’re married and you have a daughter.
’

Jack closed his eyes for a moment hiding the guilt and the pain.
‘
Who told you?
’

‘
Frank, b
ut
I don’t think he meant to.
’

‘
Emilia is seven weeks old. Rosa, her mother, and I aren’t married and never will be. In fact, Rosa doesn’t want anything to do with the child.
’
An inexplicable look of withdrawal came over his face, yet he didn’t physically move. He lifted his hands and cupped her face.
‘
If you can’t accept that Emilia and I come as a package, then this ends now.
’

For several heartbeats Grace remained silent. When she finally spoke there was a gentle softness in her voice.

‘
Emilia is such a beautiful name.
I woul
d very much like to meet her.
’

His whole face spread into a tender smile.
‘
You’re sure?
’

Her emotive blue eyes held his gaze. In answer, she drew his face to hers and kissed him, lingering, savo
u
ring every moment.

With a husky murmur of pleasure, Jack pulled her hard against him and returned the kiss as deeply as she gave it. He took her hand and led her upstairs to the bathroom. He turned on the shower and checked the temperature. And then he kissed her, teasing and tasting her until she moaned and moved against him in a haze of hunger.

Taking hold of her sweatshirt, he pulled it up until they had to break away from each other so that he could get it over her head. Underneath she wore a rose colo
u
red bra, the lace cupping the creamy swell of her breasts. He undid the zip on her jeans and slid them down past her hips until they pooled around her ankles. She stepped out of them, at the same time kicking off her
socks
.

He trailed feather-light kisses down her neck and shoulders, his warm breath searing her skin. His every caress filled her with desire and anticipation until all she could think of was him.

Watching her intently, Jack flicked the front hook of her bra freeing her breasts, fondling them in slow, sensuous circles, skimming his thumbs over her nipples, teasing them into hardness.

Grace inhaled sharply, her body hungry with desire. When his hands stroked her thighs,
then
pushed aside the lace of the thong that covered her soft, moist
centre
, she arched helplessly, and cried out.

He quickly discarded his own clo
thes, stepping out of his jeans
and shedding his
sweatshirt
, then pulled Grace into the shower stall. Standing behind her, he began to lather her entire body with a bar of citrus-scented soap. Fragrant steam swirled around them. His hands moved gently down the length of her back, then over the swell of her hip to the taut and sensitive flesh of her stomach.

Grace felt her knees weaken, t
he pleasure
pure and explosive. H
er cries, soft at first, became wild and demanding. His hands sought her breasts again, his fingers soaping the swollen nipples. Waves of desire coursed through her leaving her aching for the sweet release she knew only he could give.

She turned in his arms
. H
er fingers wove into the crisp dark hair on his chest, luxuriating in the wealth of sensations flooding her body as his erection pressed against her thigh. His hands, more urgent then, stroked and teased until she writhed against him.

Jack lifted her out of the shower and wrapped her in a towel, the fabric soft as it moved over her skin. He carried her to the bed and lay down beside her. His tongue continued the exploration his hands had begun, teasing and sucking until the need grew and she could take no more. His body moved to cover hers, her warm moist folds sheathing the hard length of his penis. There was nothing languid about their lovemaking then. His hands held her hips, as
he
t
h
rust deeper until the desire and passion overwhelmed them as they sought release.

Heat pulsed through Grace. She wrapped her legs around his, crossing her ankles, driving him deeper until her breath came in long, surrendering moans, and
she
trembled as the first wave of her orgasm washed over her.

It was eight-thirty when Catherine woke. Her movements stiff and awkward, she
staggered into
the bathroom. Water trickled out of the showerhead. With a muttered curse, she stepped inside the stall. Barely tepid, it was sufficient to wash away the last of her tiredness. Once dry, she pulled on
fresh underwear,
a pair of jeans and a check shirt, and finger combed her hair. She longed for some coffee, but she’d most likely catch salmonella poisoning if she drank the burned tar from the ancient coffee machine in the motel reception.

Catherine carried her suitcase out to the car and placed it in the trunk. She started to back out, when a car screeched to a halt directly behind her. It was black, and she could see nothing through its darkly tinted windows.

Two suited men in sunglasses leapt out. One came to her window and tapped on it.

Her mind turned over a thousand scenarios in the second before she rolled down the window. Immigration? FBI? MI6? Something darker?

At the end of the longest second in history, she chose to fake indignance.
‘
Who the hell do you think you are and why are you blocking my car?
’

Expressionless, the first man pulled his blazer away to show the butt of a gun.

‘
Get out. Move slowly and keep your hands where we can see them.
’

Catherine’s mouth worked, but words were slow in coming.
‘
I need…
I need some identification.
’

‘
Step out of the vehicle
, ma’am and I’ll show you some.
’

Panic like she’d never felt before welled in her throat. She fought hard not to scream. Moving slowly, she slid gracefully out from behind the wheel. Before she had chance to say a word, she was spun round and shoved up against the side of the car. Then the man roughly patted her down. Crimson suffused her face, as she seethed with anger and humiliation. When he finished, he turned her round to face him and thrust a shiny gold badge under her nose.

‘
Agent Lowell. This is Agent Purcell,
’
he said nodding at the red-haired man standing next to him.
‘
DEA.
’

‘
DE… what?
’

‘
Drugs Enforcement Agency. L
et’s see
some
ID.
’

Catherine felt her knees buckle.
‘
In… in my purse, behind the driver’s seat.
’
She chewed on her lower lip and stole a glance at the other agent as he grabbed her purse and tipped out the contents. It didn’t take him long to find her passport. She shook as he thumbed through the pages, comparing her to the photograph on the back page.

‘
My name is Catherine Peterson. You’ve made a mistake. I’m no drug dealer.
’