Authors: Carla Swafford
She looked down and noticed the nice long bulge beneath his slacks. Good. She hated to believe he possessed more control over his body than she did.
Why wasn't he doing anything more? Tuned and ready, she wanted everything. He was pissing her off. What was he waiting for?
“Ah, come on. No need to play around,” she said. Release one of her hands and he'd be waking up in the Chattahoochee River. “Let me go, and I promise you'll be surprised. I can take you places you've never been. . . .” She fell silent.
Stupidly she'd forgotten to arrange for a gun to be delivered to her room. For some reason she'd trusted him. See what she got for trusting a man?
If she'd been standing, she'd stomp her foot. Not a blink or look from him to indicate one word had registered. No longer did his hands probe and test but instead heated and rubbed to bring pleasure. His eyes followed every inch he touched. He mounded and then squeezed her breasts with the right pressure. She inhaled deeply. Then panting, she groaned and arched into his touch again. Lord of Mercy, his hands felt so good. She wished she could control her reaction. The man wasn't human; not a drop of sweat touched his forehead, while she wanted . . . no . . . needed him badly. Her fingers dug into his belt as her body moved with each stroke. She hated feeling powerless.
He ignored her as his eyes remained on her heated body. Then he looked away for a second. When his gaze returned to her, she caught the conflict burning in their depths. He wasn't sure what to do next. Nice to know he was human after all.
Her own flaw of needing to be touched had brought her here. What about him? What did he really want?
Being angry and still aching for him drove her crazy. He thrilled her, excited her with the unexpected. Yet a part of her wanted to kill him.
He finally moved back. Seconds passed as his gaze remained on her. Like a bird caught in a cobra's stare, she stared back.
“Fuck it,” he said in that deep, soft voice as he yanked off his jacket, tossing it to the other bed, and then rolled up his sleeves.
Her heartbeat picked up speed again. The sleek muscles on his arms showed how strong he was without being bulky. Just the way she liked it.
Then she noticed where his gaze lingered, radiating enough heat to scorch her, and she forgot everything. His stare centered on the vee of her legs. In a graceful move, he stretched out at the foot of the bed, and his arms wrapped around her legs before she realized what he intended. He pushed her heels almost to her buttocks, opening her wide, and then his mouth covered her.
Her back bowed off the mattress. His wicked tongue dove into her and licked the taut nub already throbbing for attention. His teeth scraped sensitive skin as he moaned with her. Two thick fingers jabbed into her wetness and worked in tandem with his tongue.
Each firm thrust of his fingers and tongue wound her body tighter. When he sucked on the knot of nerves, she gasped. There wasn't enough air in the room. She couldn't breathe. She'd never had a man go down on her like she was a honey jar, and he wanted every last drop. The sounds of his sucking and licking excited her as much as the act itself. Her hips rotated and thrust against his expert tongue and fingers. Her nipples hurt from being neglected, pointing high and stiff.
She squirmed, wishing she could free her hands to soothe the aching tips. As if he'd read her mind, a broad hand moved up and rolled and tugged one nipple and then the other, pushing her over the edge. She released a long high-pitched moan. Oh, hell, she'd never climaxed so fast or so hard. Limp, she opened her mouth and took gulps of air.
He moved up just enough to rest his cheek against her stomach, his stubble caused her muscles to flinch. His heartbeat throbbed against her thigh as his short breaths tickled her sensitive skin. Good. His treatment of her had pulled him in too.
She waited for him to take her. Though he'd done a good job bringing her to the better side of satisfaction, she still felt a light humming in her body. She knew that meant she needed more.
Then his tongue glided from her belly button to her clit. Her hips reached for his mouth. Holy crap! It was as if she'd never climaxed. Her body hit second gear with the needle in the red. She wasn't sure if she could take another one like that. Wasn't he ready for the real deal?
He shoved himself off the bed and stood, shrugging his shoulders, pulling them back as he rotated his head. She heard joints popping. He stretched as if he'd finished a job and wanted to get the kinks out. Then he wiped her off his chin and looked her way with glittering eyes.
She groaned. Oh, shit, he was so damn hot.
He turned away from her.
Shock sent a shiver through her. Was he finished? She admitted his technique was different and a little constraining for her taste, but she wanted more. She'd gotten a glimpse of his groin. Hell, yeah, she hadn't been the only one wanting more. The impressive bulge against his trousers promised he had the right equipment needed to do the job. But first things first, he needed to let her go.
“Okay. You've had your fun. Un-cuff me.” She jingled the handcuffs.
He picked up his tie and slipped it into his jacket as he sat next to her on the bed.
“No. I don't think so. Not yet,” he said in his usual soft soul-sucking voice.
Heat travelled down her torso and centered on the area now tender from his enthusiastic treatment. She liked how he didn't raise his voice. She'd liked it on the plane, though she'd thought it was from wanting to keep their polite conversation private. But she now realized it was normal for him, if she could call him normal in any sense of the word. What man didn't take what was freely offered?
“What do you want?” She narrowed her eyes at him.
When he kept quiet and lifted his chin, she kicked out. In a lightning quick move, he caught her ankles and then threw his torso across her knees. In seconds, he had her feet fastened together with his tie. A snap of his wrist brought a sheet off the other bed, and he wrapped it around her feet. If she'd planned to kick him again, the cushion would make it no more than a nudge.
“Enough already,” she protested. “Who are you?”
He continued to ignore her. Her stomach tightened, and she swallowed to keep the fear down. Was he an operative out for revenge? Had she killed a friend or a brother of his? Which organization was he with? Blinded by lust, what had she missed?
“Who do you work for? Who are you?” she asked once again.
Those eerie amber eyes caught hers. “I'm your worst nightmare, Ms. Olivia St. Vincent.”
A chill swept her body. He'd called her by her real name.
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CARLA SWAFFORD lives in Alabama and is married to her high school sweetheart. A third-generation storyteller, she loves every shade of romance and the many paths taken to find that special someone.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Excerpt from
Circle of Desire
copyright © 2011 by Carla Swafford.
CIRCLE OF DANGER.
Copyright © 2012 by Carla Swafford. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition JUNE 2012 ISBN: 9780062117830
Print Edition ISBN: 9780062117847
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