Kitabı oku: «The Complete Red-Hot Collection», sayfa 27
CHAPTER SEVEN
JARED STARTED WITH money for the families first. Local currency and plenty of it. Their dead loved one had had an insurance policy, courtesy of their employer, he told the head of each family. Blood money—nothing more than a Band-Aid applied to his conscience and a couple of years’ financial security for the families—but he had to believe that it would help. Money always helped—stained red or not.
He went after Yegor Veselov next, who was in Singapore. It took him another day to get to him and extract the information he required, and by then he’d missed his scheduled flight back to Australia.
His new director was not going to be impressed.
He rang Sam instead. ‘Tell her I missed my flight.’
‘Oh, no. You can tell her yourself.’
He guessed he didn’t have to identify himself.
There was a click, two rings, and he almost hung up—like a kid on a prank call. Instead he waited.
‘Jared?’ his director offered curtly. ‘This better be good.’
He gave her the name of another director and smiled mirthlessly when the first words out of her mouth were ‘I knew it.’
‘You’re sexy when you’re smug.’
‘Does that line ever work for you?’
‘I’ve never used it before. It’s a first.’
‘In that case I’ll attempt to feel flattered. Is our informative friend in travelling shape? Can you bring him in to testify against our man?’
‘Doesn’t seem wise. He’s currently dining with an Eastern Bloc president. Or aren’t we caring about that?’
‘I guess we’re caring,’ she said. ‘So, have you tied up all your other loose ends?’
‘I still need to check on the kid. I need another couple of days.’
‘No, you need to prove yourself reliable and be back here when you said you would be. That’s non-negotiable.’
‘Even though I’ve given you a name?’
‘That name is going to need your weight behind it. Is there any reason you need to see this kid in the flesh?’ she countered flatly.
Besides wanting to see Celik for himself and gauge the child’s wellbeing …?
‘He’s being monitored by the Dutch authorities,’ she offered next. ‘Check up on him that way, and if you’re still not satisfied I’ll send you to the Netherlands to see him—no question.’
‘I’m already halfway there.’
‘I’m sending you the contact details for the Dutch who are monitoring him. Call them. And then, in the interest of your future career and my current one, get back here.’
‘Is that an order?’
‘You don’t take orders, so let me put it another way. You asked for my co-operation and trust and I gave them to you. How about you goddamn earn it?’
Jared walked with new purpose and confidence. He wasn’t fixed, by any means—he still slept far less than any man should, and indecision still plagued him—but there was no denying that a weight had lifted from his shoulders now that he’d finally finished what he set out to do. Expose the rot in the counter-intelligence organisation he worked for—all the way back to the roots. Maybe now he could rest and get his life back. Figure out what it was he wanted now.
Apart from that kiss.
Director Rowan Farringdon sat at her desk and watched him approach, her eyes sharp and assessing. Probably looking for signs of weakness or fatigue, injury or distress. It didn’t sit well with him that she was most likely sitting there trying to assess his needs. On the one hand he drew comfort from her concern. On the other hand it made him feel somehow … less.
Less worthy, maybe.
Less capable than he was.
‘I’m back,’ he said by way of greeting. ‘What did you do with the information I gave you?’
‘I sent it to the top.’
‘Will they be able to get rid of him? With your information and mine, is it enough?’
‘I put together a solid case. I believe it’ll be enough. Have you had any sleep?’
‘I slept on the plane.’ More or less. Mostly less.
‘In that case you’re wanted upstairs. Management wants a word.’
‘That’s a level of management I’ve never been introduced to. Any tips?’
‘Yes. Try to impress them.’
She stood and came around her big glossy table, crossed the room to where he was standing with his feet slightly apart and his hands behind his back. She stood a good head shorter than him, even in shoes with medium heels. Today she wore a steel-grey dress with a geometrical pattern on the front in pewter and bronze. Professional and classy. Beautiful lean muscles and some very nice curves.
He wanted very badly to have earned the trust she’d placed in him.
He thought he might have.
He wanted very badly to trust that she’d made the right call when it came to him not going to check on the kid.
‘Jared,’ she murmured. ‘My face is up here.’
‘I know.’ He got there eventually and smiled—because he wanted to.
‘Thank you for coming back on time and in one piece,’ she said. ‘I’m impressed.’
‘Did you doubt me?’
‘Yes.’
And then she stepped up into his space, slid her hand around his neck and fitted her lips to his.
It was a quiet kiss—neither tentative nor bold. A very welcome kiss. He tried not to frighten her, tried not to let his hunger show … Except that one second he had his desire under control and his hands behind his back and the next moment he had his hands either side of her face and his longing could no longer be denied.
He coaxed her mouth open and she responded with an intrusion both accomplished and welcome. She tasted of passion and perfection and he groaned his pleasure, for it was a taste he hadn’t known he craved until this moment. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss, unleashed his hunger for her just a little bit and felt her match it.
And, oh, the intensity she brought to everything she did—to the feeding of her need and his. He loved it.
Testing her, he unleashed a little more, and her eyes swept closed even as her mouth opened greedily. Careful, considered exploration turned into surrender after that as he offered up his kind of hunger—the kind with a hard and dangerous edge. His brand of possession—desperate and all-encompassing. And Ro … Rowan Farringdon … his director … was right there with him.
Revelling.
As if she’d been made for him.
He had her backed against the table moments later, because all he could think was that there was so much more of her to explore and he wanted his mouth on every last bit of it—no self-restraint left. Only then did she wrench her mouth from his with a gasp and put her hand to his chest to stop him.
Not that it stopped the tremor that ripped through him.
‘Are you eating with anyone this evening?’ he muttered roughly.
‘I’m working late.’
‘After that?’
‘What? No offer to bring dinner here?’
‘I want you gone from this place.’
He wanted equal footing and he wouldn’t get it here.
‘I want to take you back at my place, or the beach house—anywhere that’s private. I want to be in you, over you, under you, touching you for a good long while, and I want to make good on any promises I made to you that first night at my sister’s wedding.’
A slow smile lit her eyes at that. ‘You never made any.’
‘Make ’em up.’
Her mouth joined the smiling caper then—a generous curve that he desperately needed to explore some more.
‘You’re wanted upstairs,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll be finished here by ten p.m. and I’ll be back at six tomorrow morning. I’ll need food at some point, and I’ll need a bed to sleep in. You can pick me up at five past ten from the steps outside the entrance to the building.’
‘You don’t mind people here knowing who you’re going home with?’
‘It’ll be a problem, yes. How about we let the others choke on it?’
‘Dangerous …’ He liked it.
‘Nothing I can’t handle.’
‘Have they give you permission to seduce me?’
‘They’ve given me permission to use whatever means necessary to gain your trust and co-operation. Not that I need to sleep with you to do that. Let’s not mistake work for willingness.’
‘Are you willing, Ro?’
‘What do you think?’
He waited until he’d reached the door before looking back. She was still leaning against the desk, still wholly focused on him. He wondered if his lips looked as kiss-blown as hers.
‘How many hours of sleep do you need?’
She held his gaze and the smile she sent him was full of promise.
‘In any one night? Six.’
Jared was used to men in suits looking him over and not liking what they saw. He was used to them seeing him as either a threat or a weapon to be used against others. He usually enjoyed a certain measure of respect—and when he’d been in Antonov’s service fear. Lust—he got that too.
Utter indifference was new to him.
The man standing behind the desk was reptilian—cold and imposing to look at. Pale grey eyes and greying black hair … that rare mix of colour that came out of nowhere and stayed in the mind like a thorn. He was in his fifties, at a guess. Big-bodied, well-honed and powerful. Imposing.
‘You hand me the head of one of my directors on a plate and yet you’ve no ambition to succeed him?’
The man’s voice matched his looks. Cold. Precise.
‘You don’t like the rules so you either bend them or outright break them. You’ve no wish to remake them, apparently, and you’re about to start screwing one of my best directors. Tell me, West, what would you do with you?’
‘Probably move me on.’
‘To where, exactly?’
‘A place where section rules don’t apply.’
‘Why would you even think such a place exists?’
‘They always exist.’
The head of the service smiled mirthlessly. ‘If you could put together a team for this place where normal rules don’t apply, who would you choose?’
‘Adrian Sinclair and my sister Lena.’
‘Sinclair I approve of. But your sister’s performance record is unremarkable and her injuries are extensive. What would you do with her?’
The man had no idea of Lena’s determination or her fierce loyalty to family.
Jared didn’t bother explaining it to him—just ran through the rest of his list. ‘My brother, Damon. My sister Poppy.’
‘You’ve no problem with leading them into danger? Your psych report suggests otherwise.’
‘They’d follow me there regardless. May as well make it easier on them.’
‘Who else?’
‘That’s it.’
‘Not Rowan Farringdon?’
‘She’d limit me. Rein me in.’
‘If you let her, yes.’
‘Not really my thing.’
‘You were doing well until then.’
‘You need to find someone who cares.’ May as well come clean. ‘I want Antonov’s last mole gone and then I really don’t know what I want. I don’t like being used, lied to, and finding myself on my own when I come in from fieldwork that you authorised.’
Not for a second did the older man look contrite.
‘Should you agree to head up this team you’ll report directly either to me or to the woman whose desk you passed on the way into this office.’
‘Your secretary?’
‘She’s not a secretary.’
‘Then what is she, exactly?’
‘My confidante. My partner in all things. My conscience, at times, as I am hers. Vera stays in the outer office because she says it keeps her more connected to section politics than she would be if she held equal title to me. Her choice, and I respect her for it. Vulnerability and accessibility are powerful weapons.’
Not what he’d been expecting—and the older man knew it.
‘Every system can be exploited, Mr West. Patriarchy, especially.’
Now there was an argument. He wondered what the woman he’d just kissed would think of it. Whether the lesser status would satisfy her. He didn’t think so, frankly.
‘How would you expect me to trust you or your associate? How would I know that the information you’d be feeding me was good?’
‘You’d get your team to double-check it. I would have a checking mechanism in place as well. Everyone wins.’ The older man’s cold grey eyes narrowed. ‘I expect you to put together a black ops crew and run them in a manner that will get the job done—any job done. You’re being groomed, Mr West, for this chair, no less—in about ten years’ time, all going well, it will be yours. If you’re not inclined towards this outcome you may tender your resignation from the department on your way out.’
‘Do I get time to think about it?’
‘If you need time to think about it you’re not the right man for the job.’
Jared smiled grimly. ‘I don’t believe that.’
‘Tell me, Mr West, do you question everything?’
‘Do you?’
This time he won from the man a smile that might have been genuine.
‘If you have a job for me in the here and now I’ll look at the brief,’ Jared told him. ‘I’ll make the acquaintance of your partner. I’ll approach the people I trust and see if they’re willing to go where I lead. And I will let you know, after that, whether I can be what you need.’
Jared didn’t consider his stance out of line, considering what the older man was asking of him. And if it was—well, maybe it was time to leave.
CHAPTER EIGHT
HE WAS WAITING for her when she stepped from the building and started down the stairs to the footpath. Rowan quickened her step and tried to ignore the acceleration of her heartbeat. His car was sleek, black, expensive, and parked in a no standing zone—and he leaned against the gleaming paintwork as if he had all the time in the world.
He wore battered jeans, a shirt with a collar and a black leather jacket, and he’d look like every muscled guy she’d ever seen in the movies but for the sheer beauty of his face and the fierce intelligence in those midnight-blue eyes. Two of his younger siblings had genius IQs. Jared had been tested too, in his younger years, and those tests had been re-analysed again recently. There was some reason to believe that Jared had screwed those tests up deliberately.
Brains, brawn, an ingrained disrespect for authority, a taste for revenge and utter loyalty to his family. As a director, Rowan had no idea how to handle him. As a woman she had an unhealthy desire to get under his skin and become important to him in ways they’d both regret.
Not exactly a comfortable headspace to be in.
He opened the car door for her as she approached, and she slid him a careless smile and got in.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked when he took the driver’s seat.
‘Some place nice.’
‘Some place neutral?’
‘My father keeps an apartment here for family use. I haven’t been in it for over two years and I probably haven’t stayed there for close to five years. Is that neutral enough for you?’
‘I guess we’ll see.’ She gave tacit agreement to the plan. ‘How far away is it?’
‘It’s in a hotel complex near here. There are several restaurants to choose from—or, if you prefer, Room Service. You’ll have immediate access to other people should you decide to leave the privacy of the apartment. There’s a concierge who can call you a taxi if you need one.’
‘Am I going to need one?’
‘I don’t know. Either way, you’ll have a swift and easy exit available.’
‘Thank you.’
She leaned back against the leather seat and closed her eyes. Her last meeting of the day had been difficult. Jockeying with other section heads for project priority was always taxing. When it came to having dinner with Jared, she’d barely had time to think beyond the fact that she’d agreed to it. That he’d gone ahead and taken the time to plan the evening carefully, with both her physical and emotional comfort in mind, was a very welcome bonus.
‘How did your meeting with the management go?’
‘It threw up some … unexpected career opportunities.’
He could have said more but he lapsed into silence and Rowan didn’t push him. Sharing information didn’t come easily to this man. Trust had to be built slowly.
She opened her eyes and looked in his direction, instantly captivated by the play of shadows across the hard lines of his face and those perfectly formed lips. He was so very beautiful to look at. She doubted she’d ever tire of doing so.
‘I patted a puppy this afternoon,’ he offered next, with a wry smile in her direction. ‘It wasn’t my puppy, mind, but I figured it counted as far as taking your advice was concerned. Do you have any pets, Ro?’
‘My grandfather has a tortoise. Apparently I’ll inherit.’
He laughed—and there was a sound to make a woman sit up and take notice, for it was a good laugh. Rich and rolling. Infectious.
The hotel he took her to looked unimposing from the outside—nothing more than a single set of oversized wooden doors with a black-suited doorman attending them—but the inside was a different matter altogether. Anyone would be able to see this place was on the seven-star side of exclusive the minute they stepped through the doors. Assuming you were allowed through the doors at all.
Jared had to hand the doorman a plastic swipe card and then face a camera and be photo-IDd. Rowan had to be IDd as well, for this hotel clearly took the security of their guests and visitors extremely seriously.
‘Your family keeps an apartment here and no one uses it?’ she asked as they stepped into a gilt-edged lift with bronze handrails and mirrors. The kind of lift a princess or a president might be acquainted with.
‘My grandfather bought it. My father keeps it mainly for sentimental reasons, I think. Occasionally he uses it to impress. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t profit from it. We have an agreement with the hotel whereby they have the authority to put guests in the suite when we’re not using it.’
The apartment he took her to was a three-bedroom penthouse, complete with a ten-person dining table, a bar, and an exquisitely furnished lounge area. It was the kind of suite that foreign dignitaries and heads of state stayed in. It was the kind of hotel that afforded its guests several extra layers of security.
‘This do?’ Jared asked as he shut the door behind them.
‘Yes!’ Opulence, privacy, and service at their fingertips. ‘You knew it would impress.’
‘No. I just hoped it would fit our needs. I have no idea what would impress you.’
‘Loyalty. Intelligence. Self-awareness. I’m impressed.’
For a fleeting moment he looked boyishly pleased, and then he shrugged and added a few more words to the mix. ‘Vengeful, destructive, inaccessible …’
‘Trifles,’ she said. ‘You’ll grow out of it.’
He laughed at her words, his eyes warm and his expression boyishly unguarded. ‘We’ll see.’ He crossed to the bar. ‘What can I get you to drink?’
‘Cool, clear, bubble-infested water.’
‘Do you ever drink alcohol?’
‘Occasionally. I don’t dislike it. It’s more a matter of being permanently on call.’
‘That’s a strong service ethic you have there, Ro.’
Maybe he meant it as a criticism—she didn’t know. ‘Plenty of people have one.’
He nodded and handed her the room service menu, then tucked in shoulder to shoulder with her while she read it. She didn’t push him away. He felt good and smelled better, the faintly woodsy tang of his aftershave teasing her senses.
‘Veal for me,’ she decided after careful perusal. ‘With the creamy fennel sauce and greens—and I absolutely do want the wattle-seed and bush honey crème brûlée afterwards.’
‘I’m having the rib-eye,’ he said. ‘With fries, cracked pepper, salad to make it look healthy, and a beer to wash it down with. I’m a simple soul. And I’m not on call.’
He picked up the hotel phone and put the order through.
‘Someone’s coming to sort out the dining area and bring bread and tapas for us,’ he offered when he’d finished.
‘Good service.’
‘Always is.’
She cocked her head to one side. ‘You’re used to this level of wealth?’
‘I don’t need it,’ he said with a shrug. ‘I can exist on a lot less. But, yes. I was born into wealth. I’ve never wanted for playthings. What about you?’
‘I’m used to less.’
He crossed to the entertainment console and moments later the soft strains of a well-played acoustic guitar filled the room. A little bit Spanish … a little bit alternative.
‘Your choice?’ she asked.
‘Probably Damon’s—although I recognise who’s playing. Sounds of my youth.’
‘Do those youthful memories relax you? The ones you had before ASIS?’
‘Yes. There are good memories there. My teenage years were good ones. I thought myself invincible and thought that the world revolved around my every whim. Because it did.’
‘See? Told you—you’ll grow out of things.’
This man could have done anything. Been anything. Yet here he was.
‘Why did you join ASIS?’
‘I think I was looking for a cause. A way to combine adrenalin-junked-up dangerous activities with righteousness.’
‘What did your father say to that decision?’
‘Nothing.’ Jared shrugged. ‘It’s not that we don’t get on. We just never saw much of him after my mother’s death. Damon and Poppy got the worst end of that stick. They barely know the man at all.’
‘Do they care?’
Jared shrugged. ‘Can’t speak for them, but I like to hope that even if our father wasn’t around much while they were growing up they didn’t miss out on having family who loved and cared for them. Lena’s good at binding people together. Love, concern, support—just being there for people in the day-to-day. She’s bossy as all hell, mind—and so was I. But the four of us kids held together as a family. We still hold, even though we’re scattered across the globe.’
‘I’m glad you have them.’
‘Trig’s a part of the family too. I’ve been thinking about something he said the other day. A question he asked me. You and me … if we get together … how will that affect your career? Are you looking to me to enhance it?’
He crossed to the bar, poured himself a Scotch and stared down at it, frowning.
‘Because I have to tell you, Ro, that I’m considering finishing up with special intelligence altogether—so if you have some notion that you and I could team up at some point … be some kind of power couple within the organisation … I’m not on board with it.’
It had been a long time since someone had managed to shock her so thoroughly, and it must have shown on her face because Jared suddenly grinned.
‘A power couple?’ she echoed flatly. ‘In what way?’
‘Management offered me a black ops crew of my own choosing—provided I also chose you for your expertise and experience. They spoke of grooming me for the top job. Your name was mentioned. In a partnership. A working one. A personal one. I felt as if they were handing you to me on a plate.’
It took a lot to make Rowan lose her cool, but she was getting there. She sipped at her water and set it carefully on the bar-top while she tried to stem the angry tirade of words that wanted to spew forth.
‘If you want to stop working for Section, then stop.’ She kept her voice level and her gaze steady. Good job, Rowan. ‘Believe me when I say that whoring myself out to you—or anyone else—in order to gain power is not on my list of things to do. If I want more power I’ll damn well go after it on my own, thank you.’
Okay, now she was getting snappy.
‘You have vastly underestimated my self-respect.’
‘You’re sexy when you’re riled.’ Jared smiled again, his big body relaxing infinitesimally.
She speared him with her meanest glare. ‘No. You don’t get a free pass on this. You believed them. You thought I was in on it.’
‘I never said that.’ His mouth hardened. ‘I told you what they said and then I told you what I was thinking. There’s a difference.’
‘And now you know what I think.’
‘Exactly.’ He lifted his glass and drained it. When his voice came again it was raspy. ‘I still want to know you, Ro. It feels good to explore your boundaries.’
A knock sounded on the door, accompanied by a softly spoken ‘Room Service …’
He crossed to the door and let in a man and a woman in black and white service uniform. Rowan watched in muddled silence as the two attendants set silver-domed serving trays on the table before crossing to the sideboard and opening it to reveal everything a well-dressed dinner table would ever need. Thirty seconds, tops, and the table had been expertly set for two and a candelabra lit.
‘Your main meals will be with you in fifteen minutes,’ the older man informed them with a smile, and then left.
‘You can leave any time,’ Jared offered quietly, but Rowan took a steadying breath, crossed to the table and took a seat instead.
‘I’m hungry. I need to eat and relax and I like your company. Will you join me?’
‘And make small talk?’
‘You could always try telling me about yourself,’ she murmured as he took the seat opposite, candlelight and shadows making him even more beautiful.
‘When I was eight I wanted to be a submariner,’ he said as he reached for the bread. ‘When I die I want to be fed to the fishes.’
‘Do you think about dying a lot?’
‘I think about surviving more.’ He broke his bread, put it in his mouth and chewed.
‘When I was eight I wanted to be a foreign correspondent news reporter,’ she offered.
‘Seriously?’
‘Yes. I grew up an only child in a very serious household where news ran twenty-four-seven. Foreign correspondents were my rock stars. I guess you had to be there.’
‘Chances are I wouldn’t have stayed there. I like being outdoors—anything to do with water and swimming in the rain.’
‘Is this a song?’
‘Feel free to add your own verse,’ he offered generously.
‘I like scalding hot showers, with multiple shower heads.’
‘Hedonist.’
Their conversation continued, sporadic and easy, as they ate their way through plates of truly excellent appetisers.
The fact that Jared wanted to be open and honest with Rowan didn’t mean that it came effortlessly to him. It had been years since he’d last shared pieces of himself with anyone, even if she did make it easy for him.
And then their main meals arrived, and he tried not to let the silence ratchet up his tension again. Every scrape of cutlery on a plate fed his senses. Every taste and touch—every glance—branded straight through his skin to enflame the beast beneath.
When she pushed her plate aside at the end of the meal and leaned back in her chair to study him he was hard-pressed not to start trembling, his need to reach out and take was so big.
‘Ro …’
He wished his voice worked better, but all he could manage was a gravel-scrape across the vowel. He needed to lose himself in sensation, sink so deeply into it that there was no thought for anything but pleasure, no thought of anything but sex. No room for memories, no way to screw up.
‘How do you like your sex?’
And she looked at him with those all-seeing eyes and just knew where he was going with this.
‘Soft and sweet not really going to cut it for you?’ she asked.
‘No. And I don’t want to break anything. You, especially.’
‘I’m hungry,’ she murmured. ‘It’s been a while for me. If we do this, I don’t mind getting a little reckless.’
She was saying all the right words, and her delivery was malt-whisky-smooth. Then again, she’d read his psych report.
‘I’m trying to be honest here.’ And maybe—just maybe—he was trying to avert disaster. ‘I’m touch-starved, apparently. And I’m hungry for you. I’ve been sitting here fighting the need to reach for you. And it’s big, this need, and I’m struggling to control it. If we start this … If you want to … I need to know that you’ll be okay if I get a little greedy.’
He needed more from her than a simple touch, more than a simple caress, and he didn’t know where this would take them or how it would end.
‘I usually lead during sex—I take control. But—’
The thought of bringing two years’ worth of abstinence to the table and not being able to control himself …
She stood and crossed to the bar, poured him another whisky and brought it to the table, leaning into him and brushing her breasts against his shoulder as she did so. She threaded her fingers through his hair and he closed his eyes on an indrawn breath, unable to do much more than ride the spark of heat that shot from head to groin.
‘There is another way we could do this,’ she whispered. ‘A way to take all that fear of breaking things right out of the equation. Shall I tie you up, Jared? Would that help?’
One hand was still in his hair and the other was tracing a slow trail around his neck. He swallowed hard and nodded as a tremor ripped straight through him.
‘Yes.’
She kissed him then, slow and careful—until he framed her face with his hands and let the hunger lick through him.
‘Get up,’ she whispered, so he did.
And somehow they made it to the bedroom without breaking anything.
She undressed him and kept his tie in her hand. He knew that silk was strong—he’d trusted his life to it on more than one occasion—but if she thought one necktie was going to hold him she was mistaken.
The knot she used to bind his hands together in front of him was impressive.
‘On your back, on the bed, arms above your head,’ she said next, and then crossed the room and reached for the thick silk rope that held the curtains back.
That was more like it …
He groaned, his dignity in tatters, because … yes.
She tied his hands to the bedhead—the very centre of the bedhead—and she had to straddle him and lean all over him to do it. Or maybe she didn’t have to. Either way, he wasn’t complaining. He twisted beneath her, seeking skin with his lips—the soft inner skin of her upper thigh—and tasted salt and sweetness, felt the give in her as she momentarily melted against him, the strength in her as she redoubled her efforts to secure his hands.
The scent of her … he breathed it in. Skin—he wanted more of it. She obliged by lifting her dress up over her body to reveal two lacy scraps of underwear and then she leaned forward again, so that the skin across her ribs was within reach of his lips, and sighed her approval when he went there, and then higher, to the underswell of her breasts. Higher still as she pushed the lace of her bra aside and gave him access to her nipple. He took his time with that, played her soft and sweet, until finally he clamped down and sucked hard, deeply satisfied by the dark flare that lit her eyes. Yes, she’d take more of that.
