Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“What?” Her breath hitched. “You will? You’ll help me?”
“No. Fuck.” His jaw flexed, and he swiped a hand down his face. “I can’t, Lydia. I spent a year embedded in the Romanian mafia, searching for the traitor who sold that hard drive. Darius Skutnik knows me. He knows my face, my disguises, my loyalties. My cover’s blown. Bridges burned. And besides, I don’t get involved in political or government affairs. Not anymore.”
“Then why are you here? Why are you following me?”
His expression clouded.
“Is this about revenge? Do you want an apology?” She cupped his strong jaw, holding his gaze. “I won’t give it. I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry for meeting you or fucking you or learning how strong and resilient you are. You scare the bejesus out of me and fascinate me and turn me on like no other. If I were a normal girl with average problems, I would chase you and date you and do all the normal-girl things with you. Because this? You and me? It’s real.” She lowered her hand. “You wanted the truth. That’s my truth.”
She pressed her tongue against the back of her teeth, immediately regretting her verbal ejaculation. She’d said too much, overexposed herself, and couldn’t take it back.
How many times would she stumble and fall over this man?
Maybe this was the last time. Maybe he would try to kill her now, and she would finally learn to keep her guard up around him.
“I’m not interested in normal girls.” His finger traced circles on her thigh, invoking goosebumps.
In the span of an eternal moment, her life flashed before her eyes. She lived, and she died, but she didn’t regret. He’d woken her from a long, cold dead sleep, and she wouldn’t change that for anything.
Slowly, his hand dipped between her legs, going straight to the stiletto like he knew it was strapped there. Of course, he knew. She’d rubbed it up and down his leg while they were dancing.
He made no attempt to take it as his fingers crept upward, seeking something softer, warmer, more welcoming.
A tremor crashed through her, and she rose on her toes, trying to slow the climb of his hand. “What do you want from me?”
“This.” He kissed her, deeply, possessively, and sank a finger between her legs. “This greedy pussy’s been leaking all over my jeans.”
She whimpered, her hands clenching on his shoulders, pulling.
“I want your surrender.” His chest pressed against hers, his teeth scraping her gaping mouth as if he were trying to crawl inside her. “Give it to me.”
She was already careening toward it before he added another finger, and another, dipping inside and plunging to the knuckles. His tongue knifed through her mouth, assaulting, owning, and twining her fear and need together.
As if he had all the time in the world, he played with her ache, teasing her soaked flesh, and mounting her lust until she clung to him, moaning and panting against his hot lips.
He seduced her with his mouth, his smoldering looks, and oh God, his touch. His fingers unfurled ribbons of heat within her, clenching her inner muscles, and dribbling past flesh that had become far too hungry for him. It was stupid and irresponsible and…
“There.” She widened her thighs to deepen the thrust of his fingers. “Please, Cole.”
“Good girl.”
“We both know I’m not, but I love the way you lie.”
He slapped his free hand against the wall above her and bowed in, twisting his fingers between her legs. Then his thumb circled her clit and broke the dam.
Her body split apart in waves of orgasmic pleasure. Shimmery stars seized her vision. Trembling bursts of electricity washed up her legs and rendered her senseless, boneless, until noises she didn’t recognize tumbled from her mouth.
He continued to stroke. His fingers. His tongue. Hot and aggressive, he pulled her under and submerged her in the sweetest delirium. Her head tipped back. Her eyes fell shut, and her flesh rippled with unadulterated, carnal bliss.
She shook, stunned and overcome, high on ecstasy and thoroughly mortified.
Mortified, because the voice that broke through her haze didn’t belong to Cole.
“Don’t move, motherfucker.” Mike stood behind Cole, aiming a knife at Cole’s stomach and a gun beneath his jaw. “How do you want to die?”
“Buried three-knuckles-deep.” Cole had the audacity to wriggle the knuckles still buried inside her.
Mike’s lips pulled back, baring his teeth, his eyes blazing with fury.
It was one thing for her to get naked with Cole in Texas when seduction had been part of the mission. Mike had been passionately against it but went along with the plan because there’d been no other way.
But this was a whole other thing. She had no explanation for why she was pressed against him in a dark hallway with her dress shoved to her hips. No explanation would assuage Mike. This had nothing to do with the job. Cole wasn’t even supposed to be here.