Hot Ice (22 page)

His large, tanned hand looked shockingly male against the milky paleness of her skin. Hands trembling with urgency, she started unbuttoning his shirt, peeling the fabric away from the furnace of his skin.

He hooked his thumbs in the narrow ribbons on her hips and yanked the lacy thong down her legs. She kicked it off, hands going to the crisp dark hair on his chest, leaned forward and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the center of his chest.

She looked down at the heavy erection tenting his neatly pressed black slacks, then up, her lips curved in a smile. A cat-with-cream kind of smile, she knew. He reached down and unzipped his pants. Dropped them, kicked them aside.

She didn't move as his gaze traveled her naked body with the impact of a physical touch. There seemed to be a direct line from his eyes to whatever body part he was looking at. Little flairs of electricity danced across her skin. Air seemed to be in short supply as she struggled to fill her lungs. But breathing was a two-edged sword as the scent of him made her head swim. "You seem to have a thing about bathrooms."

"I seem to have a thing about you," he corrected thickly. Using both hands, he wrapped them gently around her throat, thumbs at the heavy pulse pounding at the base, fingers cupping her skull beneath her hair. Instead of squeezing the life out of her, his thumbs moved up and down her throat in a caress that made Taylor's nipples harden painfully and her breath hitch.

She licked her lips. "I'm not buying that one. Your body's telling me it's not killing me you've got in mind."

His large hands, callused and strong, moved down her shoulders, brushing the sides of her breasts as they skimmed down her arms. "You have a smart mouth, you know that?"

A tremor rippled across her skin at his touch, excitement leapt in her chest at the heated look in those fire-and-brimstone eyes. She tilted her chin up. "Why don't you put it to good use, then."

He bent his head, his mouth hot as he skimmed his lips across her cheek in a caress of barely restrained greed. His fingers hurt as he tightened his grip on her elbows. "I don't want to want you."

Taylor slid her hands up his chest, paused to feel the heavy
thump-thump-thump
of his heart beneath her fingertips, then wrapped her arms about his neck. She turned her mouth up to his. "Door's… there. Go."

She waited to see if he'd do it. Slam the door. Leave her in here alone. His pupils contracted to pinpoints, his mouth thinned in a hard straight line as he looked down at her with the eyes of a predator about to feast. Her mouth went dry as lust surged and intensified to the brink of pain.

Anticipation traveled along her nerve endings at the speed of light. Bright and white. She imagined him, a sleek animal lying in wait in the tall grass, every muscle taut with awareness, eyes and ears tuned to his prey.

She smelled the starch in his shirt, felt the crisp scratch of it against her naked breasts as time stretched. The edge of the counter behind her pressed into her bare butt, cool and hard. Hunt pressed against her front. Hot and hard.

The hum of the plane's engines took up a counter rhythm in Taylor's body. She felt like a ripe juicy peach about to burst as she waited, pulses pounding in interesting places. She refused to look away as their gazes locked, battled, and challenged. Tossed a silent gauntlet she wasted no time accepting.

"Does this heat scare you?" Hunt's voice was thick, ragged. His tight grip cut off her circulation in her arms, but she didn't give a damn.

"No. Only your self-control," she said thickly, smelling her own arousal and feeling the heaviness and moisture between her legs.
Insane. Crazy Hurry
.

After what seemed a torturous eternity, he took her in an open-mouthed kiss that rocked her off her feet. No. He'd lifted her onto the cool countertop, she realized as her tongue met his in a bid for supremacy.

They both won.

The kiss went on and on. Hot and wet. Erotic enough to steam up the mirrors. Tongues, slick and in constant motion, slid and slithered in a motion mimicking penetration. Taylor's breath hitched and caught.

He slid one hand up her leg, drawing her toward him. She wrapped her legs around him, shoving his shirttails up in back with one foot so she could feel the rock-hard muscles of his behind. She crossed her ankles and pulled, using muscles she'd used only to scale balconies and air-conditioning ducts.

This was better—oh, God, so much better.

He stood between her legs, huge, dark, and powerful. He slid both hands up her thighs and thrust inside her wet, ready heat with barely restrained ferocity. She made a sound in the back of her throat and shuddered with the beginning of a hard, fast climax.

"Not yet," he muttered thickly, withdrawing a little and dragging in a harsh, ragged breath, hard fingers gripping her ass cheeks. "Not…" He rammed home again, Taylor's back arched, as she shot another three feet up the lust ladder."… yet." He pulled out, slick and hard. Hot and greedy.

He brought her to the very edge. Again and again. Prolonging the climax in a dance that had her clawing his back as violent ripples wracked her body, making her pant and sweat and moan his name.

Soaking with sweat, shaking with mindless need, she tried to tighten her grip on his hips. He was trying to control her. Show her who was boss. Silly, silly man.

"Bastard," she choked out, ripping her mouth from beneath his to take a much needed breath as he withdrew yet again. Each time he did, it made the buildup more intense, more exquisite than the last.

"Hellcat," he ground out, crushing his mouth back down on hers as he thrust back inside her as if determined to come through the other side. Strong and relentless, he controlled the speed and intensity of his thrusts as if he could read her body's every action and reaction.

Harder and harder, closer and closer together, until she couldn't tell where he began and she ended.

Staked. His. Lost.

Blood thundered in her ears, roaring through her veins in a sweet blaze that left her shaking. This time she didn't let him pull out. She held him with every well-toned muscle. Inside and out.

He plunged into her like a hard-driven weapon. She didn't give a damn what he was trying to prove. And she didn't think he did either. Not anymore. Now, hunger was its own reward and carried its own demand.

Taylor buried her face against his shoulder to muffle her scream as they climaxed together. Hard and fast.

Chapter Twenty

Black Rose satellite office

Barcelona, Spain

Lisa Maki was a stunningly attractive, statuesque blonde with the face of a Botticelli angel. In her mid-thirties, she looked twenty-five, and easily passed as a student. Which she frequently did. She and her small group were responsible for the student uprising at the University of Madrid earlier in the year, resulting in many new, if unsuspecting, supporters and hefty donations for Black Rose's coffers.

She'd successfully hijacked an American airline flight from Paris, and had been responsible for two embassy bombings. One in Valencia, and one in Rome. She was proud of the work she did. The Black Rose cell in Spain was small, only seven members, but she made sure their numbers counted.

When her phone rang, she answered it eagerly, ready for her next directive.

" T-FLAC has the woman en route to Zurich. Be there," her leader informed her without greeting. Lisa's heart pounded with anticipation.
At last! Madre de Dios! At last
!

This was the Black Rose's most ambitious act of terror; overthrowing the
Mano del Dios
was no small task. Taking down another terrorist organization was a bold move. Particularly one of
Mano's
strength and worldwide control. Participation was a guaranteed star maker.

Lisa would be the Black Rose's star player, if she had any control over the situation. She'd do everything in her power to make her move count. But stuck here in Spain, she knew there was little chance of her seeing any of the action. Until now.

"ETA Kloten, six hours, fourteen minutes." Her boss proceeded to give her the exact flight particulars and the call numbers of the T-FLAC private jet. Lisa committed the information to memory. She already had photographs of the T-FLAC operatives involved, as well as a quarter-profile photograph of the woman they held. It was enough.

"Take your team, intercept them inside the terminal. Do not make contact. Do not let them out of your sight. Do not let them see you."

Lisa didn't take notes on the call. She didn't need to.

"They will wait until the last minute to hire a car and driver. Do
not
underestimate these men. St. John is both determined and tenacious. He won't let the woman out of his sight until he has the disks in his hands
and
is assured that it holds the information he needs. The information
we
need. Keep in mind, he trusts no one and has eyes in the back of his head.

"Let him do our job for us. When he is satisfied,
I
will be satisfied. Follow them, confirm delivery, then eliminate them.
All
. No mistakes. I will expect to receive the disk—from you, in person—first thing tomorrow morning in your office. Understood?" The line went dead.

Lisa understood perfectly. She couldn't wait.

Chapter Twenty-one