Dangerous Tease (4 page)

Holding her breath, she lowered his zipper at a turtle's pace, wanting to draw out the anticipation as he'd done
for her, to take him to the same nearly delirious plane. The end result did not disappoint. Thick, hard and heavy, his dick was a woman's fantasy cock. She wrapped her fingers around his girth and lowered her head to lick the salty pre-cum from its tip.

Sam's fingers threaded through her hair. “If you do any more of that, I won't be able to control myself.”

She stroked him, enjoying its iron
smoothness. “Control is highly overrated.”

He groaned and slid her up his hard body, until they were face-to-face. There was nothing sweet or soft about his kiss. Hard and demanding, it shot flames of need through her body. Her clit ached to be touched. She couldn't wait any longer.

Josie broke the kiss long enough to pull her T-shirt over her head and drop it to the floor, then sought his lips
again. The air crackled around them with anticipation and something more—a yearning she hadn't experienced before.

They tumbled onto the bed. He swept one arm outward, shoving the overabundance of pillows to the floor. There were no words. Hands moved everywhere. Touching. Stroking. Squeezing. Tension in her stomach pulled tighter. Clothes disappeared, replaced by a condom that for all Josie
knew had appeared out of thin air.

Her nipples hardened under his tongue. She writhed on the bed. His fingers traced lines down her sides, stopping at her hips and leaving a trail of fire on her damp skin. She wrapped her legs around his waist, twining her ankles at the small of his back, her heels pressing him forward.

“Fuck me, Sam, I can't wait.”

He growled in answer, a mix of triumph and
relief that put her on the edge of coming undone. His buttoned-up exterior hid something wild, and she loved being the one to set it free. That they could both find a kind of escape tangled in the crisp white sheets of a hotel bed made the night even better.

Sam pressed his face into the curve where her shoulder met her neck. His teeth nipped at the tender skin and he slid into her wet pussy
in one deep thrust. Pleasure ricocheted through her body. Her back arched like a bow. Their fingers intertwined, staying bound together even as their bodies separated and joined at an ever-quickening pace.

With a quick twist, she flipped him onto his back and rode him until her thighs burned. Sweat slicked, she bent backwards and grabbed her ankles, the angle allowing him to slide deeper, as
if he’d always belonged embedded inside her.

Her climax started like an electric ball of energy in her lower back, enlarging in waves until her entire body buzzed. Sam groaned as he withdrew and entered, going deeper than before. The charged sphere snapped, her orgasm exploding like a lightning bolt with his body stiffening a moment later.

They collapsed next to each other, his arm draped across
the curve of her waist. Eyes closed in a sublime state of relaxation, Josie promised herself she'd sneak off as soon as Sam's breath steadied with sleep. She'd just close her eyes for a minute.

Sam shifted beside her, bringing the fluffy comforter down over the two of them and securing her closer against his side. A weak SOS signaled from deep within, prodding her to stick to standard operating
procedure, but she squeezed her eyes shut against it. The bed was too comfortable, the moment too easy and the man too perfect of a fit.

However, the more she ignored that inner voice, the louder it became, until it blared like a foghorn. Prodded by the self-preservation habits made over the past decade, Josie unwrapped herself from their warm cocoon and sat up.

“Don't go.” His fingers stretched
across her taut thigh.

“I have to.”

Josie glanced over her shoulder at Sam, who had turned on his side to watch her. The fast flutter in her chest confirmed that somewhere between the bar and the bed, this had moved beyond the usual fuck-'em-and-leave-'em routine into something more interesting.

“Do you want to go?”

“No.” The word escaped before she could come up with one of her usual cover
stories about an early work shift or her nonexistent dog that had to be walked because, for once, no was the truth.

“Then stay.”

His plea hung in the air until she relaxed back onto the bed.

Sam traced the tattooed vines winding across Josie's shoulders and followed as they dipped lower, shadowing her spine and ending in another infinity
symbol on the small of her back, right above the matching dimples at the top of her round ass.

She shivered under his fingers. “That tickles.”

“It's so…pretty.” So much for being able to use his Scrabble-worthy vocabulary.

He buried his nose in her soft hair, her curls like silk against his cheeks, and inhaled her amber scent. His cock stirred in response. Ducking his head lower, he kissed
the infinity sign's center.

“My friend is a tattoo artist so I get a discount.”

“Did he design this?” Sam kissed the spot on her shoulder blade where the vines passed closest to her freckled shoulders.

She sighed and snuggled her ass closer to his stiffening cock. “Nah. I draw them up and he traces them onto my skin before inking me.”

“Even the princess and the dragon?”

“Yeah. I got that
right before my first show.” She laughed, a dry sound with more than a touch of disappointment “I thought I'd finally slain the dragon.”

He pulled her closer to him as they spooned and kissed her shoulder. “What happened?”

“A so-called friend stole my art and the original sketches then passed it off as her own at a gallery in L.A.” Her husky voice went silent.

“Did you say anything?”

“Yeah,
not that it did any good. Her rich parents had so many deep connections in that world that no one believed me.” Her shoulders slumped. “You don't want to hear this. We're both old enough to know that life doesn't work out like you think it will when you're young, now does it?”

She sighed and Sam wished he could erase the disillusionment in her voice. “It's not over for you yet.”

“Well, Dry
Creek is long gone, that's for sure.”

His pulse hiccupped. “Dry Creek, Nebraska?” Blasting out of his comfort zone with someone like Josie in Vegas was one thing. It was quite another to do that back home in a small town that thrived on gossip—especially gossip concerning the Laytons. Everyone and his mother would be taking notes.

“Yeah, there's an artist colony there. I was going to paint
until my fingers fell off, but it doesn't look like I'll be able to go. I'm just hoping they'll refund the money I've already paid.”

He'd no more than released a relieved breath than guilt twisted him. “That's…that's too bad,” he stuttered.

Josie rolled over in his arms, her gray eyes soft. “It would have been nice to go knowing that there was somebody there I knew.” She smirked at him and traced
her finger down the scar on his cheek he'd gotten that summer on McPherson's Bluff. “We could have even gone treasure hunting together.”

His entire body tensed. “What are you talking about?” The blood iced in his veins.

He should have known. Treasure hunters had been after the Layton family treasure, Rebecca's Bounty, for decades. They wouldn't think twice about using any means necessary to
gather information. Even sleeping with the one family member who'd spent decades looking for it. God knows more than a few had tried to get close to him in hopes of getting a look at Rebecca's diary or other family relics.

“Were you waiting for me, Josie? How long have you been watching me?”

Josie sat up, the sheet falling to her narrow waist. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

Despite
the temper building, he couldn't stop his gaze from straying to her pendulous breasts.

“The treasure.” Gold, jewels and who knew what else buried somewhere outside of Dry Creek. He'd been raised on the legend. Lost his belief in happy endings while searching for it the summer he turned twelve. Michael's last August. Regret and anger tag-teamed his chest, squeezing his lungs tight until he could
barely breathe.

“You are completely off your nut.” She threw the covers off long legs that had wrapped so tightly around him. “God, why do I always attract the weirdoes?”

He refused to let her off that easy. “Don't try to distract and discredit. Who hired you?” Uncle Harlan was his first suspect, but there were others.

“That's it. Have a nice life.” She jumped off the bed and made a beeline
for her clothes.

How could he have been so wrong about her? Usually his instincts were pretty good, but something about Josie had fucked-up his compass as badly as if it had been placed on a slab of iron.

Now dressed, Josie stomped over to the chair and grabbed her backpack. The zipper must have been open because its contents spilled out onto the chair and scattered on floor. Her shoulders
shook as if she was trying not to cry.

Doubt niggled at Sam. A born cynic, he never bought the company line and always expected the worst. What if he hadn't been wrong about Josie? What if she didn't know anything about Rebecca's Bounty? He didn't have any proof, just natural-born suspicion. Fuck. He couldn't leave it like this.

“Let me help.”

“Stop.” Her order cut through the room. “I can
do it myself.” She gathered up a small book, cards and an extra pair of shoes and shoved them into the bag.

Without another word, she stormed out of the hotel room and out of his life.

He slumped down in a chair, gut aching like he'd gone
mano a mano
against a giant. When had he become such a prick? He couldn't blame a failed treasure hunt for that.

An image of twelve-year-old Michael looking
up with death staring out from those familiar hazel eyes flashed in Sam's mind and bile rose in his throat. The memories always came back when he forgot to be vigilant. The more orderly his life, the less Michael haunted him, so Sam had worked hard to create a life of black and white with no colors in between. Being with Josie and her riot of hues had jostled the memories loose.

Sam shifted in
the chair and paper crackled underneath him. In a haze, he pulled it out and unfolded the yellowed page.

Charcoal landscape sketches filled the page. A natural rock bridge. Stubby sagebrush trees barely hanging on to a stone ledge with the expansive prairie pouring out into the distance. A rocky formation towering above a flat, barren field with a glimpse of craggy badlands peeking out from
behind. A small inscription had been scrawled in the corner.

There is a beauty to this hard land more valuable than treasure, but for those who insist, I give you this. Rebecca, 1865
.

It took a minute for its meaning to hit him.

“Holy shit.”

Rumors had circulated for years about a treasure map but he'd never found it despite searching. While plenty of fakes had turned up, the real one remained
elusive. Sam scanned the paper, taking in the quality, the discoloration, the unique script that at first glance matched Rebecca's writings. He wouldn't know for sure until he got back home to compare it with other documents in his collection, but this had all the markings of the fabled treasure map for Rebecca's Bounty.

How the hell did Josie get it? His uncle had lost the diary in a poker match
ten years ago.

The contents of his stomach curdled. The small book she'd shoved into her backpack. The whole fucking thing had been a setup.

Josie hadn't been interested in him. No. She wanted a Layton to pump for information for some fool's errand and he'd walked right into the trap—until he'd called her out. People had been searching for his great-great-great-great-grandmother's treasure since
before his father had been born.

His gaze caught on the jeans he'd ironed that morning lying in a puddle by the bed and anger blazed through him.

He should have known better.

Josie jammed the elevator down button with her finger, then poked it again and again for good measure.

Paranoid asshole. This was why she stuck with no-strings-attached,
one-night stands. She had the personality judgment skills of a gullible puppy.

This wasn't the first time she'd been screwed by her missing bullshit detector. Getting fired, Cy's huge debt and the fresh wound Sam had inflicted revived old hurts, allowing the worst of them to break to the surface.