Cold Light of Day (26 page)

“I guess I’ll just have to take your word for that. Won’t I?” She smiled. With her blindfold and bound hands she looked like some erotic lover but that was his fantasies taking over. Fantasies where she hadn’t been drugged and snatched from her own home, beaten, and kept captive.

He was a fool for treating her any better than a stray dog. Getting attached could ruin everything. She’d reeled him in like a salmon on a line—and he hadn’t even put up a fight. The phone in his pocket vibrated. He stood and moved away from her.

The text message had him staring at the screen wondering what the hell he was going to do now.

Raminski did not like this. He did not like this at all. Dorokhov had ordered him to bring Angel to him. Maybe she was being released, but his gut was telling him no.

He knew what the man would do to her. But there was nothing he could do to stop it that wouldn’t get them both killed. He picked up the black sack and put it over her head. “It would be best if you didn’t struggle.”

She began kicking and fought despite her bound arms. He managed to bind her flailing legs, but only after she’d kicked him in the jaw. The stars were his reward for being a heartless coward.

Finally when she was immobile, dripping in sweat, he lifted her in his arms. “Do everything you are told and you might survive this day.”

She started crying. Great gulping sobs. He couldn’t stand it. He put her down for a moment. Even though his boss was going to be pissed, he pulled a syringe out of his pocket and jammed it into her butt. He waited thirty seconds for her to crumple and then he picked her up again.

Scarlett Stone was dead. Why did Dorokhov want this one? The answer was pressed against his body with soft curves and slim limbs. He said a little prayer and walked her out to his car. He willed her to survive whatever came next.

S
he’d made him
swear he wouldn’t leave her alone.

The sound of the shower coming on and the idea of Scarlett being naked in the next room made Matt burn. The idea of making love to her had tempted him since the moment they met. The fact they’d only known each other a ridiculously short amount of time seemed irrelevant. Life and death stakes had circumvented the usual dating game rules. Maybe it had ramped up the attraction, but he was feeling pretty damn invested now.

Yeah, he had a job to do, but it was impossible when all he could think about was the woman wet and naked in the next room.

Maybe he was the one who needed a quick catnap—except sleep wasn’t what he was craving if he got horizontal in the next ten minutes.

Life was short. Nothing was guaranteed.

He thought about his mother, lying comatose in a hospital bed. She always told him to go for what he wanted. People died. He’d lost some of his best friends to war. Jed Brennan had been shot and had almost died just a couple of weeks ago.

Jed had crossed the line with Vivi Vincent and was still a damn good FBI agent.

There wasn’t even a real moral dilemma. Scarlett wasn’t wanted by the law, she wasn’t a witness, she wasn’t her father, and even if that was a real issue, the case against Richard Stone was looking increasingly suspect.

So what was the problem?

He knew exactly what the problem was. If he made love to Scarlett Stone he would get hooked. He was already halfway there and they’d only shared a kiss. Sex would bring him to his knees, just like Frazer had warned.

What the hell was so wrong about being on his knees in front of a hot, wet, naked woman?

Nothing that he could think of.

Wasn’t it Christmas? Wasn’t this the time of miracles? Because he was pretty sure sleeping with Scarlett hit miracle territory.

He started walking to the bathroom, moving too fast for second thoughts. He stripped off his t-shirt and dropped it on the floor. Kicked off his shoes, and opened the shower door.

Scarlett let out a scream so he put his hand over her mouth before Rooney and Parker broke down the door to see what the hell was going on. Not that they hadn’t guessed he was in over his head.

He kept his eyes on hers, which were wide and terrified until she realized it was him and not some serial killer intent on making her his next victim. Her hair looked almost black, plastered against her skull. He needed to ask her if this was okay, but the words wouldn’t come. Just because she was attracted didn’t mean she wanted sex. He knew she wasn’t that experienced, didn’t want to scare the crap out of her or assume she’d want to do all the things he wanted to—

She put the tip of her tongue against the palm of his hand and answered his silent question.

He jolted. “Are you sure?” He took his hand away and ran a thumb over her bottom lip. “Really sure?”

“Yes.” She didn’t try to cover herself and he let himself look. Small breasts, narrow hips, long legs he was already torturously familiar with. Everything about her was small but perfectly formed. Slight. Delicate. Slim. Strong.

Something twisted inside him. Maybe it was the level of faith she had in him. Maybe it was something else.

“Ever made out in the shower?” His hand dropped to the button on his jeans and her eyes followed the movement with an uncertain look that made him pause.

She shook her head.

“Want to try it?”

A grin lit up her features.

He shucked his jeans and stepped into the shower.

Hot spray ran over her shoulders and rivulets of water ran between them. He wanted to follow the water with his tongue. Wanted to touch, taste. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, trying to ease into this. But his body didn’t want to take it slow. It wanted to plunder and take.
Slow it down asshole.
He shook from the effort of doing just that.

Scarlett wasn’t hesitant or shy—a surprise, but a good one. She felt warm and smooth in his arms and very, very female. She opened her mouth and kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her breasts to his chest. He gripped her hips and pulled her more firmly against him, his arousal impossible to miss.

He kissed her again, heat wrapping around them both, building inside him even though he tried to control it. To take things easy. He didn’t want to go too fast for her. Didn’t want to be another asshole who disappointed her.

He eased back an inch and watched as the water dripped off the tips of her tight, pink nipples. He lowered his mouth to catch a drop, licked his way back up to her mouth.

“You taste good.” He was hungry for her. Ravenous. She didn’t smell like lemons anymore. It was strawberries now.

“You’re good at tasting.” Her lips nibbled up his neck to nuzzle below his ear. “You smell amazing.”

He slanted his lips over hers and took the kiss deeper. Her tongue followed his, turning the kiss from playful to volcanic in a heartbeat. Their hands explored each other, stroked and smoothed, traced contours that he’d only guessed at beneath her clothes. He reached for the soap and ran it over her collarbone, down to her navel, back up over her breasts, the dusky pink of her nipples vivid against the paleness of her skin.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

Her eyes told him she only half-believed him so he figured he’d show her. He cupped her breast, rolled her nipple between thumb and forefinger. Her lips parted on a gasp as he did the same to her other breast. Her eyes grew slumberous, breath shallow and fast.

He turned her in his arms, his other hand gliding lower as he tasted the pulse that pounded at the side of her throat. He rubbed the soap in slow circles as he moved lower, reaching between the apex of her thighs and urging her legs apart. She opened, tentatively at first, and he was reminded this was new to her. Take it easy. Take it slow. Pressed against her lower back, he was so hard he was hurting. But it wouldn’t kill him to wait.

It wouldn’t kill him to stop.

She could have no doubt as to how completely turned on he was, and he didn’t want her freaking out and regretting anything that happened between them. He wanted this to be something they did again and again when the danger was over.

Which would probably freak her out if she knew. Too new, too intense, too uncertain.

He slid the soap between her legs, over her slick folds, pressed harder on her clit before returning to her breast. He nibbled the skin of her ear, her neck, felt heat pour off her in waves.

As he repeated the movement she groaned, and her head dropped back against his shoulder. She opened her legs wider, making his head spin just from the feel of her satiny, smooth skin.

He dropped the soap, but he didn’t need it anymore. He moved one hand back over her nipples. Her hips bucked against him as he sank two fingers deep inside her, she went on tiptoes and braced her hands against the wall.

“Oh, God, that feels good.”

No kidding. He turned her around and dropped to his knees, exactly where he’d been dreaming of being since Frazer had put the image in his head. Probably not the effect his boss had been going for.

He put his mouth on her, and her knees buckled. He held her up with one hand wrapped around each thigh as he made love to her with his lips, tongue and teeth. Her body tensed, her muscles quivered, just moments before she cried out. He waited for her to recover before kissing his way back up her body.

She ran her hands over his shoulder and then down his front until she found him hard against her stomach. She wrapped her fingers around his rigid flesh and moved her hands over him until he thought his own knees might buckle.

“Tell me what to do,” she demanded, kissing the side of his mouth.

“You’re doing just fine on your own.”

“I want you inside me.”

As much as he wanted to take her in the shower, as much as it pained him physically not to slide deep inside, he couldn’t.

“Matt…oh, dammit.” She leaned her forehead against his chest as if she was going to burst into tears.

What the hell? Was she having regrets? Had she changed her mind?

“We don’t have a condom.”

He picked her up in his arms and turned off the faucets. Stepped out of the shower with a cloud of steam billowing in his wake. “I have condoms in my wallet.”

“More than one?” She flicked water out of her face. “I don’t know whether to be horrified or grateful.”

“Are you asking if I’m a man slut?”

Her cheeks flushed pink. He was trying not to let his amusement show because laughing at a naked woman never went over very well. He carried her into the bedroom and dropped her to her feet.

“It’s none of my business.” She looked away.

“You’re naked and I’m naked. It’s definitely your business.” She started to shiver so he snagged a towel from the rail just inside the bathroom door and wrapped it around her shoulders, dragging her closer, inch by perfect inch. “When I was in the military I got hit on, a lot. Sometimes I took advantage of the opportunity, sometimes I didn’t. But a friend of mine ended up married to a woman he barely knew when she got pregnant after what should have been a one-night-stand. It was a shitty situation, especially for the kid.” Matt was not going to repeat his friend’s or his father’s mistakes. If it ever happened, he was gonna be the best goddamned, hands-on dad he could be, and the best goddamn husband any woman could ask for. The fact that those kinds of thoughts were in his head before he and Scarlett made love wasn’t lost on him. He wasn’t about to declare undying love, but he’d known from the moment he saw her she was a woman he
could
love, given time.

He caught her hand. This conversation was about so much more than safe sex, but maybe it needed to be said. Maybe if anyone deserved brutal honesty it was Scarlett. “When I was younger I was with a lot of women, but I haven’t been with anyone in quite a while—over a year now.” The atmosphere pressed heavily around them. “I haven’t wanted anyone in a long time.”

Her eyes flashed and her gaze heated. He gave her time to digest what he’d said to her. Time to change her mind.

He turned away, found his pants, tossed his wallet on the bedside table.

When he turned back a shadow passed through her eyes. “I’ve never been very good at sex.”

The fact she wanted to pretend whatever was going on here was just sex amused him. He tipped her chin. “You’re beautiful, Scarlett. And you’re hot. The fact that other guys don’t know how to make love to a woman is not your fault.”

She laughed, just the way he wanted her to. “The feminist in me wants to object to that statement, but I’m too curious about whether or not you’re right to bother.” Her eyes flashed to his and her lips formed a small smile. “But I don’t want my insecurities to ruin this.” He could see the nerves in her eyes, in the tense way her fists clenched.

“Scarlett, what I’m telling you here is you can’t ruin it. It’s already spectacular.” He nipped her bottom lip, then again harder, forcing her to think about the physical sensations, not old hang ups. “How about I worry about the details and you concentrate on feeling good?”

His hands curved down her hips and rested there. His lips made love to hers, long, sweet kisses that drew her out of herself, drew her back into the moment. She put her hands on his shoulders and stood on tiptoes to reach him, taking the kiss deeper, heating his blood as her hunger grew. His hands slid over her bottom, her skin unbearably soft. Did she know how good she felt?