Caught in the Act (15 page)

His hand stilled. “Maybe.”

Her stomach fluttered in anticipation. Moistening her lips, she glanced over her shoulder. “Then why did you come?”

His gaze darkened, from medium brown to espresso black. “Just tell me what you’re mixed up in.”

Instead of spilling her secrets, Kari turned to face him. She knew Adam would alert his superiors about the shipment. He was too honest to give her the kind of help she needed. But he wasn’t perfect. He didn’t step back when she closed the distance between them, or pull away when she twined her arms around his neck.

“Let me help you,” he said, a muscle in his jaw twitching.

“I can’t.”

“Damn it, Kari—”

She lifted her lips to his, shutting him up.

10

There was a dead man in the broom closet.

Maria startled when she saw him, smothering a scream. The slumped figure straightened unexpectedly, opening red-rimmed eyes.

Drunk. Not dead.

She knew those eyes,
color de avellano
. She couldn’t remember the English word for eyes that muddy shade of green, but she’d recognize them anywhere.

Her inebriated savior frowned, trying to free his arm from a tangled mop head.

She glanced past the vending machines. Chuy’s office door was closed. Sonia had just gone in for their afternoon appointment. “What are you doing?” she asked in a low voice, leaning over him.

“Shut the door,” he rasped.

“You can’t sleep in here.”

He thought about that for a minute, grappling with the concept. “Where’s Armando?”

“I don’t know.” She hadn’t seen him in the past hour, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t on the premises. “Are you hiding from him?”

He shook his arm loose from the mop strings, ignoring her question.

Maria realized that he was on something a little stronger than alcohol. He didn’t smell like booze, and his eyes were strange. “What will Armando do if he finds you?”

“Kill me,” he said, slumping forward again.

She shut the door, her mind racing. Armando wasn’t around, as far as she knew, and Chuy would be occupied for about five more minutes. If she left this man in the broom closet, one of the other maids would report his presence within the hour.

Would Armando really kill him? He’d already beaten him to a pulp. His face still bore the bruises.

Maria knew she should walk away. This was a dangerous situation, and she had plenty of other people to worry about. Kari might have been arrested. And the last time Chuy had caught her interfering with his business, he’d been furious.

She didn’t want to be dragged into his room again.

On the other hand, this man had saved her—twice. Maybe he’d lost his way and taken too many drugs, but he was still a good person. He was the same man who’d held her hand in the hospital, the handsome agent with the rough-soft voice. She couldn’t leave him in such a vulnerable position.

Decision made, she ran to the elevator and pressed the up button, then rushed back to the closet. “Come,” she said, tugging on his wrist. “I hide you in better place.”

He seemed willing to go, if not quite able.

She crouched over him, putting her arms around his lean waist. “Hurry,” she panted. “We go to elevator.”

With her help, he staggered to his feet, and they moved
toward the end of the walkway. She supported him on one side, urging him to walk faster. The elevator doors sprang open with a noisy jingle. They almost didn’t make it inside.

As soon as the doors closed behind them, he collapsed against her.

“Levántate,”
she ordered. “Stay on your feet!”

He nodded, appearing half asleep.

“Don’t you dare pass out,” she hissed in Spanish, trying to hold him up. There was no way she could do this if he lost consciousness. For a skinny guy, he weighed a ton, and he was a head taller than her.

His throat worked as he swallowed. “Okay.”

The doors separated, revealing the empty second floor. Maria breathed a sigh of relief. During the middle of the week, the hotel was never fully occupied, but a guest could leave one of the rooms any minute. Worse, Armando might step out of the shadows.

“Let’s go,” she said, digging her fingernails into his ribs. He lurched forward, his mouth set with determination. Although he put forth a lot of effort, his motions were clumsy. He was a hard man, all sharp edges and ropy muscles. She had a difficult time directing him.

Thankfully, the hiding place was close. Over the weekend, one of the rooms had been damaged by a small fire. A guest had been careless with a cigarette, igniting a trash can and burning up a section of carpet. The room had been closed for repairs, and no one had actually started the work. Chuy’s other business was his top priority.

Maria propped the man against the wall and used her card key to unlock the door, glancing around to make sure they were still alone. She helped him inside, wrinkling
her nose at the smell of stale smoke and burnt carpet fibers. As soon as he saw the bed, he stumbled toward it, falling facedown on the bare mattress.

She shut the door and peeked out the window, seeing no one. So far, so good. He could sleep it off in here while she finished her shift.

Her heart continued to pound, from tension and exertion. She didn’t know what would happen if they were discovered. Armando was a cold-blooded criminal. He might not enjoy hurting women, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do it.

He’d kill her quickly, perhaps.

Shivering at the thought, she turned to face the sleeping man. His name suddenly came to her: Agent Foster. He looked so different now. His hair was still dark brown, but medium length, his jaw covered with a scruffy beard. There was a dark circle under his left eye. He was wearing a faded black T-shirt and worn gray jeans. The clothes weren’t just old and frayed, they were dirty, as if he hadn’t changed them in days.

Despite this evidence of his deterioration, something about him appealed to her. Beneath those dingy clothes, he had strong muscles. Under the overgrown facial hair, he was handsome. Agent Foster was still in there.

She sat at the edge of the bed, sweeping a lock of hair off his forehead. His skin felt cool to the touch, and his breathing was deep and even.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, not opening his eyes.

“
Estás bien, señor?
If I leave, will you … 
como se dice
 … stop breathing?” She didn’t know how to say
overdose
in English.

“I’m okay. Leave me.”

But she sat and watched him for several more minutes, reluctant to walk away.

The instant his lips touched hers, Kari’s stressful day faded into the background. Her concerns for Sasha were pushed aside.

The only thing she cared about right now was Adam. His mouth, his body, his touch.

He slid his hand into her hair, holding her still. The subtle use of force excited her. It suggested that, although she’d started this, he was going to finish it. She liked that. Letting her eyes drift shut, she tilted her head back, inviting him to continue. When he covered her mouth with his, she parted her lips on a low moan.

The way he kissed was kind of … indecent. He didn’t test the waters or use a light touch. He just dove right in, filling her mouth with his tongue. There was nothing polite or tentative about it. He used her mouth for his pleasure, delving inside, taking what he wanted.

Kari liked that, too. She pressed her body closer and grabbed handfuls of his shirt, squirming for more. He tasted as good as he smelled, clean and spicy and delicious. His tongue was hot and his lips were firm. She wanted his mouth all over her body. Her sex tingled and her nipples tightened against the cups of her bra.

He broke the kiss, panting lightly. Her lips felt swollen and wet. His eyes dropped from her mouth to her breasts.

Kari indulged him, tugging her T-shirt over her head. His gaze darkened at the sight of her white bra, which barely held in her endowments. It wasn’t a push-up, but it squeezed her breasts together in a sexy way.

He groaned, covering her breasts with his hands and taking her mouth again. She kissed him back hungrily, arching at his touch. When his thumb brushed over her taut nipple through the fabric of her bra, she gasped against his lips. Even that slight barrier was too much. She was too eager, too sensitive.

“I need to take this off,” she said.

He released her immediately. “Good idea.”

She unclasped her bra and let it fall to the ground. He wanted to stare, but she didn’t have any patience for that. She brought his hands to her breasts, delighting at the feel of his rough palms cupping her soft flesh. He trapped her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, watching her face as he applied gentle pressure. His hands looked so beautiful on her, dark and strong and long-fingered. Her legs began to tremble and her panties got wet. She bit down on her lower lip, afraid she might come just from this.

He must have understood how close she was, because he glanced around the room, assessing all possible surfaces. The plastic table wouldn’t hold their weight. Her work counter was a little too high. He backed her toward the stack of handwoven rugs in the corner, lowering his mouth to kiss her again.

“Wait,” she said, holding his arm. Before they lay down, she grabbed a drop cloth, protecting the merchandise.

They both laughed at her compulsive behavior. Then his lips met hers, and all of her concerns drifted away. There was only here, and now, and him. She unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, her fingertips dancing over his chest. Her mouth made a mew of approval as she explored his taut muscles.

“You must work out,” she said, smoothing her palm down his flat stomach.

With a low growl, he grabbed her wrists, holding them over her head as he stretched out on top of her. She could feel the rasp of denim on her tender inner thighs, the jut of his erection against her cleft. It felt big.

Trapping her wrists with one hand, he reached under her skirt with the other, removing her panties. She moaned when he stripped the damp fabric away from her sensitive flesh. The flimsy white cotton snagged briefly on her ankle strap before he tossed it aside.

It felt strange to be naked except for a skirt and sandals. She was completely exposed to him, her thighs parted, sex bare.

He just looked at her for a moment, his gaze on her mouth, her breasts, between her legs. She hoped he liked what he saw. When his eyes met hers, she moistened her lips in anticipation, desperate for him to get on with it.

In no particular hurry, he released her wrists and sat back on his heels, unbuttoning his distended fly. He pushed his jeans and shorts down to his knees, freeing his erection. It bobbed up against his flat belly, heavy and thick.

Kari wanted him inside her. Her inner muscles clenched in anticipation, her body greedy to accept his. Driven by a desire she’d never known before, she fisted her hands in the well-worn denim skirt, lifting it higher. He studied her tingling flesh, his nostrils flaring. She knew she was wet, glistening.

Her nipples were ruddy and puckered, her eyes half-lidded.

He stretched a condom down his length and placed
the blunt tip against her. She barely restrained herself from lifting her hips to seat him. Teasing her, he slid the head of his penis along her slippery cleft, rubbing her clitoris.

She groaned, so close to climax she could taste it. Her chest was flushed, her tummy quivering. “Please.”

He gave her what she wanted, plunging his thick cock into her, all the way to the hilt. She cried out as her body sheathed him, grasping tight. He paused a moment to let her adjust, and she needed it. She felt stretched to the limit, full of him. Trembling with anticipation, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Okay?” he asked.

“It’s better than okay,” she panted.

Watching her face, he drew back and drove deep again, wrenching a gasp from her lips. He repeated the motion, hitting the perfect angle, maximizing her pleasure. “Yes,” she said, beyond shame. This was too good to feel bad about. “God, yes!”

His hands gripped her hips, sliding her up and down his length. She sobbed out loud, wanting more. Harder. Faster. When he didn’t find a pace to suit her, she dug her heels into the cloth and lifted her bottom off the ground, rising to meet him.

“Slow down, honey,” he said, trying to still her movements. “You’re going to make me come too fast.”

Mindless in her own need, she ignored him, sliding her hand down her belly. He watched, transfixed, as she worked her hips in a pagan rhythm, pressing her fingertips to her clit. The combination of sensations hurled her into a bone-melting orgasm. She bucked against him, convulsing in ecstasy.

When she drifted back down to earth, he was gazing at her, an appreciative expression on his face. She might have felt embarrassed about taking matters into her own hands if he hadn’t enjoyed the show so much.

His cock pulsed inside her, hard and hot. “Do that again.”

She didn’t think she was capable of a second orgasm so soon, but when she traced her stretched opening with her fingertips, circling her swollen clitoris, the tension inside her recoiled. He drew himself out and eased back in, rocking against her. This time, the ride to the top was gentler, but no less intense. He felt deliciously stiff. Reveling in the slick friction, she locked her legs around his hips and cried out again, dissolving in pleasure. He followed her this time, his shoulders quaking as he found his own release.