Savage Secrets (Titan #6) (11 page)

“Caterina.” He sucked her name through his clenched teeth.

She didn’t recognize herself. Losing control had never happened, but now it was. Rocco met her stroke for stroke. The bastard would kill her with pleasure, she was sure of it, but she’d die happy. This was too good to just do once. She’d live to fall in bed with him again. It was a promise to herself.

“Roc.” She couldn’t catch her breath. Didn’t want to try. Breathing was for wimps. This was the major leagues, and if she was going to survive, it had nothing to do with oxygen. “Help me.” Breath. “Hold me. Push me over the edge.”

His jaw worked. Resolve painted across his face. Sweat beaded on his forehead as her juices wept from her, coating both of them.

“So close.” Her fingernails ripped into the sheets.

His hips pistoned, driving until she couldn’t see. Fireworks exploded behind her eyes, between her thighs. Her muscles tightened until…she combusted, rippling over his cock. Pulsing. Tensing. Extraordinary flashes of satisfaction blew through her veins, and when she thought it wouldn’t last another second, when she was too sensitive to be touched, Rocco slowed his roll and kissed her through the amazing intensity. His head rolled to the side, dropped back, then he inhaled, expanding his chest wider than she thought possible. Slowly, he brought his gaze back to her and lowered himself down, his face mere inches from hers. “I need you close to me.”

She nodded; she might’ve been crying, might’ve been cursing. She didn’t know what she was doing.

“Let me hold you close.” The tinge of sadness in his voice brought her back to his arms.

Her heart clenched. There was something about that gravelly, forsaken sound. “Rocco?”

He shushed her with a kiss. Soft, again. Back to where they’d started. He was wounded, though he’d never tell. Required loving and caring, but he’d never ask. She knew that about him, just like she’d known who he was when she first set eyes on him on that bench weeks ago. And right now, she knew that the couldn’t-wait-another-second frenzy had morphed into a couldn’t-crave-you-more-than-now dance.

Rocco’s chest pressed against hers. A fine mist of sweat kissed their skin. Her legs wrapped around him, then her arms did the same, hugging and holding onto all the power and strength that made him loom so large. His hips rocked her slowly over and over. The intense, overwhelming fullness short circuited her brain until all she could think, see, and believe in was them. Her tongue explored his skin. His saltiness seared her taste buds, and the sweetness of the man holding her stole her heart.

“Damn, you are amazing,” he whispered into her ear.

Amazing
?

Her? Not really.

Them? Absolutely.

His body swallowed hers; his embrace all-consuming, so powerful and delicate. Easing and penetrating, slow and steady, thrusts that made her mind desperate for their interlude to both last for hours and demand relief, again.

“Roc.” Shivers swirled over her sweat-dampened skin. All she could do was repeat his name. And beg.

“What do you want, Kitten? Tell me what you need.” His teeth scratched her neck and chipped away at her sanity. Rough hands swayed over her back, cupped her ass. She could feel him all over.

“This. You.” Their passion flooded her. “I want nothing more than you—”
Handsome
.

She almost said it. Almost did it again, where she showed her hand and told him the things she was keeping to herself.
Like the tattoos
.

His mouth took her, languidly. Tongues dancing and dueling. He kissed the side of her mouth, her cheek.

Drowning in his scent, succumbing to emotion she would never admit to, Caterina embraced another incoming climax, wanting nothing more than for him to come with her. Waves of pleasure hit them both. His hips surged. With spastic thrusts, he shuddered, holding her to him. A heavenly second of watching him completely lost in her was all she needed to come again. Lost in a dream of what a normal life could be, she memorized the feel of his arms and pretended he was her lover, not her partner. The idea was entirely too tempting.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Caterina fell back asleep in Rocco’s arms. He scrubbed a hand over his head. Last night, she’d been asleep when he crawled into bed, and he’d stared for hours before somehow falling asleep. It was wrong not to tell her where he’d gone, what had happened to him yesterday, if for no other reason than he might endanger her life. A bad trip in the wrong location. Hell, any trip at an inopportune moment could get them both killed. Guilt was a wrecking ball. And he’d had the opportunity to walk out. He’d had the chance and intelligence not to strip her down and dive onto her naked body, but he had ignored reason.

Damn.

He rubbed his head again, scared to look down at her. It hadn’t been all fast and hard, not at all, and that was some scary shit. Something between them rocked his sensibilities, making hot sex that could have been nothing more than an adrenaline-filled free for all into something he’d memorized. Every move, sound, sigh, and climax, was scored into his memory. He’d dragged it out because fucking her was insane. Goddamn, this was bad news. He liked it. A lot.

Get your game face on, man
.

The internal pep talk didn’t work.

Rocco sat up, tucking her against him, and grabbed his barely warm coffee off the nightstand. Dark, mussed hair covered the side of Caterina’s face, and he moved a few strands to see her better. He’d let her sleep because if she woke, he’d talk to her about op jobs and torture tactics. About how Titan and whatever drove her to this line of work always came first. Cat was different. His job was the most important thing in life, and Cat would totally get it.

Yeah, if she woke and opened her mouth, saying something all sexy like
let’s go blow this up
, or
wanna catch a terrorist today
, in that killer accent, he would fall for her.

They’d check out El Mateperros’s location later that day. Focusing on that terrorist piece of shit was a solid plan. Playing the part of Daniel Locke was part of bringing that POS to justice, but working this op was an eye-opener. It made him realize that it was possible to have as much passion for something that wasn’t Titan. And that was Caterina Cruz.

***

Godforsaken rain had drenched the entire city for the past few hours. Out of habit, Rocco’s eyes searched the sidewalks and front entrance of the hotel, always looking for threats. Nothing caught his eye. Travelers. Tourists. Bellhops. All looked ordinary enough. After shutting the door behind Caterina and throwing their gear bags in the back seat, he circled the front of the Audi. The hood was warm in the cold weather thanks to the valet bringing it up.

He tapped on the quarter panel, slid around for his door, and slipped into his seat. “You ready?”

She smiled. “Haven’t been this excited in so long.”

Raising eyebrows, he raked a look over her, intentionally reminding her of just how excited she’d been recently. “I might take offense to that, Kitten.”

A gorgeous blush lit her cheeks. “You play the newlywed card well.”

“I’m not the only one. Let’s do our recon then get back to it.”

A taxi cab cut in and idled in front of their car. He mentally cursed the backward way everyone drove, checked his mirrors, looked over, and—the passenger caught his eye. Rocco’s mind lurched.

“Give me a sec.” Opening the door, he cautiously stepped out.

No way
.

He angled to the side, backing a step for a better look at that fellow. Tall. Broad. Business attire. Maybe strapping, judging by the bulge at his back. If Rocco could just get a better look at the guy paying his fare and talking to the bellboy.

He shook his head. That massive dude looked a lot like…

“Hang tight.” He held one finger up to the window.

Cat nodded.

Two steps later, and he cut the guy off. “What the fuck?”

It didn’t make sense, but nothing had on this job.

Roman’s eye narrowed. “You owe me.”

“What are you doing here?” Rocco looked at Roman from head to toe to baggage and back again. “Are you wearing loafers?”

“Yeah, this wasn’t my idea, buddy.” Roman pulled at his collar.

Button down shirt. Pinstripe tie. Sports coat and slacks. “You look fuckin’ ridiculous.”

“As do you, asswipe.”

Rocco looked down. His outfit mirrored Roman’s. Fuck. He did look like a tool. “For the job.”

“Same. Since your ass apparently needed a Brooks Brothers hand.”

“No way. Get out. Go home.”

“Not my orders. Take it up with Boss Man.”

“Shit.” Why was he so pissed anyway? One of his main concerns was their manpower limitations. Taking out El Mateperros with just the Cat-and-Roc twosome seemed borderline insane. Still, his chest felt tight. The urge to grab his girl and run took hold.

With Roman around, spending every waking second in bed with her wasn’t going to happen. He and Cat could play husband and wife to a certain point, but with his boy there, he’d have to take the charade down a notch or two in the hot and heavy department.

“We’re on our way out.”

“No problem. I gotta check in, do my thing.” Which probably meant grab a couple beers so he could handle to the suit and tie. “Here.”

Roman reached into a
brief case
. And now, Rocco had seen it all.

“Is that a purse?”

“Jared would understand if I pummeled your face in.” Roman kept searching. What did he keep in there, anyway? Wasn’t as if it was an actual, in-use briefcase. “Read this, jackass.”

Rocco laughed, watching Roman tug at the tie and smooth his jacket. “More paperwork. I’ve never been on an op that required this much reading.”

“Glad I’m not alone.” Roman handed him a folder of papers then undid the top button under his tie. “Find me at the bar later.”

“It’s going to be a few hours.”

“Trust me. That’s where I’ll be.”

Rocco slapped his shoulder. “See ya.”

A bellboy nodded to Roman. His bag sat stacked on a cart. Rocco thought about giving him hell for not caring one stupid bag, but then again, he’d done the same thing. Both them were trying to fit into the role of having more money than God, earned behind a desk. Titan paid well, but they absolutely didn’t have to wear suits and ties.

He rolled the folder and turned toward the Audi. Caterina’s gaze followed Roman until he went through the hotel’s sliding doors. Then it shot to him. Rocco rolled his eyes, shrugging, then got in the car.

“Here you go, Kitten.” She could be in charge of their reading assignment.

“What’s that all about?”

It was a freakin’ buzzkill was what it was.
“And then there were three.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Me either. Read that, and see if we learn anything worth a damn.”

They pulled out onto the main road, and he followed the directions that he’d memorized to the location that Parker swore was El Mateperros’s English home base. Caterina paged through the folder, and the sound of papers shuffling made him more anxious.

“We know all this. Duplicates of the images Titan pulled. The only thing new is the addition of the Locke’s
bodyguard
, who was your friend, I assume. It’s a backup plan.”

Jared never made backup plans without a reason. There could be a hundred reasons, and none of them were great for Rocco.

“His name is Roman.”

“Well, the paperwork says his name is Liam Laird.”

Rocco drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. What was Jared’s move, and why didn’t he see it? The next forty-five minutes of their drive was silent, and he searched for the reason Roman had shown up.

“Here we go.” Nothing came to mind.

He pulled onto a bumpy side road. Trees reached high overhead and arched over their jangled pathway. As long as Jared didn’t know Rocco had slept with Caterina or that he had a serious mental mishap, he was golden. He pulled the Audi over into a location Parker had scouted via satellite images. The site would leave the vehicle out of sight unless someone was really looking, and far enough away that it wouldn’t be a red flag to anyone working with the ACG. Without saying a word, Caterina slid into the backseat, stripping off her clothes. It’d be so wrong not to steal a glance, and before he opened the door and changed, Rocco watched in the rear view mirror.

“Pretty, pretty, Kitten.”

Long black leggings covered her legs. She lifted her ass to scoot them on. “I thought it was pretty pie hole.”

“Never livin’ that one down, huh?”

“Get dressed.” She slipped on a skintight black shirt, dropped the clip out of her Beretta, and inspected it before sliding it back in.

If he wasn’t careful, they’d slip onto El Mateperros’s property while he was sporting a hard-on, and that would be a bitch to run with. He shucked the khakis and button down, donning camo cargos and an UnderArmor shirt. Suddenly, he could breathe again.