Ice Cold (18 page)

Keeping her gaze on his still features, Honey glided the kitten soft cashmere sweater up her rib cage, then touched one hard, puckered nipple with her fingertip. The sensation rippled through her hard enough she had to grit her teeth as pleasure arced through her nerve endings. Curving her palm around the globe, she kneaded her breast.

Rafael’s heated breath bathed her face, breathing in his breath, Honey closed her eyes, sliding her other hand beneath the loose fitting waist of her pants. Her sensitized skin felt silky smooth, then rough as she parted her slick folds with her fingertips. She knew precisely where all her nerve pathways hid and tormented herself. Hovering on the precipice of a climax, knowing the slightest touch could send her over. Fending it off as her body tightened, she gritted her teeth. Her hand drenched as she carefully held the orgasm at bay for as long as possible, teasing and tormenting herself. Pretending the hand was Rafael’s, Honey delved deeper. Her muscles gathered, tightening unbearably, pulsing around her hand.

She climaxed hard, biting the soft fabric of her sweater where it bunched around her neck to prevent herself from moaning.

After a few minutes, she took a couple of steadying breaths and stretched out her legs. A good one that would hold her until the op was over, and she was home in her own bed. She opened her eyes to see Rafael’s black, light-eating eyes open, staring right at her.

“How was that for you?”

“Lovely,” Her face flamed as she yanked her sweater over her sensitive breasts. “Go back to sleep.”

“All you had to do was ask.”

“Navarro, go to sleep?”

He slid his hand from under the pillow to brush her lips with his fingertips. “You’re exquisite when you come. I want you to come for me.”

”Thanks, but I’m all done now,” she told him coolly, withdrawing her hand from between her legs, and wiping her finger surreptitiously on the side if her pants. She’d probably been more embarrassed and humiliated in her life, but Honey couldn’t remember when. She wanted the floor to open so she could just disappear. She wasn’t going to be able to work with Navarro after this debacle. Hell, she could barely look at him now.

Rolling to his side, he cupped her hot cheek. “Want me to tell you all the ways I want you? I-“

“No, Please don’t.” Voice raw with embarrassment, she tried to turn so she could jump off the bed, but he held her face, and there was nowhere to look but his eyes.

“
Te deseo, cariña
,” he murmured softly, his fingers gentle in her hair, the hard length of his shaft distracting and unnerving against her thigh. “We can’t pretend that we don’t both want the same thing and have for days. Stay with me, let me love you.”

“You have brain damage
and
you were castrated, remember?” she muttered, only half joking.

“Those super recuperative powers save the day.” His lips curved. “Tell me you don’t want mind-blowing, primal, no-holds-barred sex, and I’ll go to the other room.”

Her pragmatic, rational mind said, charming endearments aside, not just no, but hell no. But his words and the insidious stroke of his big hand down the side of her throat, screamed yes, damn it, yes. If she’d become hot and bothered lying next to a sleeping panther, having him whisper sweet nothings as he urged her closer to the fire, lit the flame and turned it up high.

“Damn you, Navarro!” His hand slid to her breasts, but she grabbed his wrist. “Don’t. I’m already…ready.”

Propped up on his elbow, he leaned down to crush his mouth on hers. Her heartbeat sped from embarrassment to need, and she threaded her fingers through his silky, far too long hair, to bring his head to the right angle.

He stroked off her pants, paused only long enough to whip her sweater over her head, then his mouth was back. His knee parted her legs. “God, you’re still wet.” He pushed inside her with a rough sound somewhere between a groan and a satisfied masculine purr.

Honey automatically arched her back and counter pumped as he slammed his hips against hers in a relentless rhythm that had her head thrashing the pillow.

He’d been poised on the cliff of a climax, and his muffled shout of her name as he came, was buried against her throat.

After several minutes, when she felt his erratic heartbeat against her breasts and stroked the sheen of sweat on his back, he lifted is head. Brushing her mouth with his, he held her gaze.

“Not quite as mind blowing and primal as I’d hoped. I was so hot for you, I couldn’t prolong it.”

Eyes stinging, Honey fingered his hair out of his eyes. “It was amazing. We’d better try and get some sleep. We have a full day ahead of us tomorrow- Today.”

Curling away from him, she felt the weight of his arm and leg over her, as if he was trying to keep her beside him. His finger curved loosely around her breast.

“
Dulces sueños cariña
.”

Honey pretended she was already asleep.

FOURTEEN

 D 
espite having little to no sleep the night before, Rafael felt pretty good, all things considered. He’d thrown down the gauntlet, sleeping in her bed, naked. He’d been sure she’d kick him out—if not violently under the circumstances, then very firmly in her cold Winston way. Instead, she’d stood in the doorway for a full minute before quietly getting into bed beside him.

He’d watched her pleasure herself, and it had taken every ounce of will power he possessed to let her bring herself to completion when he’d craved to do it for her. He’d never seen anything as magical as Honey touching herself.

He was still in her bed at 0830. Alone, but the smell of her lingered on the pillow they appeared to have shared. While she’d slept in thirty-minute increments, he’d spent most of those same thirty minutes watching
her
sleep.

If sleeping positions were any indication of personality, then Winston curled up to protect her soft underbelly. Most of the time, interestingly enough, curled up on top of
him
. He’d learned a lot in the early hours of the morning. About Winston, and about himself. Usually, he preferred his relationships uncomplicated and straightforward. Hardcore casual sex. No strings. No expectations. Mutual satisfaction guaranteed. But for some reason, he didn’t want to analyze, that didn’t appeal with Winston.

He learned she yearned for human touch, at least subconsciously, because every time he rolled on his side, she was right there, snuggled beside him, or reaching to touch him. Maybe her computers weren’t giving her everything she needed.

Rafe contemplated why provoking her had become his new favorite pastime. He wanted to crack open that hard outer shell and get to the sweet stuff inside.

While he liked his sex anytime and uncomplicated, morning sex was one of his favorites. It was impossible to picture Winston soft and compliant first thing. Despite her compassion the night before, he couldn’t imagine she’d wake up willing to postpone her busy day to indulge in something she’d consider unnecessary.

He’d felt her wake up, then she’d jumped out of bed as if the hounds of hell were on her ass. Seconds later, the bathroom door snapped shut firmly behind her. With any other woman, the fact that she didn’t lock the door would be an open invitation, but he knew Winston better than that. The closed, but unlocked, door indicated that he had better stay on his side for the duration.

Rafael grinned. She’d taken her SIG in with her.

When he finally disarmed her, the last thing she’d be thinking about was her weapon.

He’d spent ten minutes in pleasant fantasy imagining Winston slick and wet in the shower, then had to roll onto his belly to prevent her seeing his boner through the sheet when she’d tiptoed out of the steamy bathroom. He’d waited for her to leave the room before getting out of bed himself. While it was damn tempting to see what her expression would be, he’d considered it might also include a gun pointed straight at the still tender part in question. Best not to get one’s balls blown off first thing in the morning. She’d had little enough sleep last night that she might be on the cranky side.

By the time he passed through the lounge area, en route to his own shower, she was hard at work at her computer. Dressed in all black, blond hair neatly coiled on top of her head, gold glinting discreetly at her ears, Winston was once again all business. It was almost impossible to recognize the warm, compassionate woman who’d cradled his head on her breast into the early hours. Almost.

This morning, her usual disconcertingly direct eye contact was missing, and her entire body shouted I’m-in-business-mode as her fingers flew across her keyboard. “Don’t be long,” she told him crisply. “I ordered breakfast and the guys are on their way up.”

All of which he’d heard as he lay in her bed contemplating what had to be done today. He waved an acknowledgment and shut his door.

A few minutes later, showered and dressed, he was hungry as hell and ready for a gallon of coffee and some answers.

“Bloody hell, man!” Mandek, about to sit down with a loaded plate, said when he saw Rafael’s face. “What happened to you? Did you get the license plate of the lorry that ran you over?”

The left side of his face was slightly swollen and abraded from the kick, fortunately, no a black eye. The butterfly bandages Winston had applied were doing the job of holding his face together. She was a good medic, and the constant application of ice had done its job.

Rafael poured himself his first cup of coffee, added his customary half pound of sugar, and stood drinking it as he filled the group in on what transpired the night before. “They wanted to make sure I believed the attack was instigated by Winston,” he concluded, by which time he was on cup number three.

He took mild ribbing for the new hole in his head, but other than a few comments on his fighting skills, they were more interested in the details. “And by the time I came around—I think it was only a matter of a minute, maybe two—everyone, including the three bodies, was gone. Not a trace. I reported to the Garbage detail, then I split. They notified me a few minutes ago that there was no trace of the altercation at the scene.”

“Definitely professionals,” Roan noted.

“Yeah.” Rafael poured another cup of coffee and added five spoons of sugar.

“Not even a bullet casing to be found?” Mandek asked.

“Not a damn one. The woman was Winston’s height and build. Implied we had a history.” He didn’t tell them that she’d smelled like their fellow operative. Knowing that his partner had a distinctive scent would give them far too much to think about.

Still, as one, the men turned to look at Winston sitting at the desk, a little apart from them, still typing madly. “
Implied,
gentlemen,” she remarked coolly, fingers still moving.

Sam Poole caught Rafael’s eye and mock shivered, rubbing his arms. Bennett grinned. Rafael ignored them both.

After last night, he no longer bought into Winston’s Ice Princess hype. Frosty she wasn’t, not deep down. He wished he hadn’t had that tantalizing glimpse of her human side. Because now when he looked at her, he didn’t see a steely-eyed operative, but rather a hot woman with unplumbed depths. For him, that was like waving a red flag in front of a Spanish bull. Damn it to hell. They’d be better off if last night hadn’t happened. Unfortunately, it had, opening a Pandora’s box Rafael wasn’t sure he wanted to slam shut.

“Whoever she was, she was as well trained and professional as the others- as anyone in this room. Strong, fought smart, and knew how to hurt with the least amount of hard work.” Rafael scanned the breakfast offerings and grabbed a plate. He glanced over to see if Winston had eaten. No plate, just a half-filled glass of pale, smelly herbal tea, her breakfast of champions.

He resisted the urge to load a plate of protein and stand over her while she ate it. She wasn’t his responsibility, nor would she thank him for telling her what to do, especially in front of the others. He made do with loading his own plate and looked for somewhere to sit.

“I hope you gave her back what she was dishing, Navarro,” Reid said around a slice of toast.

“It was tit for tat. I had the weight and reach advantage. She was good, damn good. As good as you were at Hansen’s house the other night,” he told Winston, without making eye contact. “Whoever is doing this is not exactly being subtle in her bid to implicate you.”

“As long as I know where I am at all times, I’ll know it isn’t me,” she said wryly. The dip of several degrees in her tone indicated she was mad as hell.

“And in the meantime, let’s see if any of the other techs have updates.” He’d assigned sites to each of the men to gather all the intel, and while they ate, they compared notes, got info from the other bomb sites, discussed possibilities, and ran data. It was like one huge brain in the room, and they were all different sectors working on the same thought process.

“We’re outta here,” Rafael announced after the men had eaten and each consumed multiple cups of coffee. He put down his empty plate. A glance out the window proved the weatherman wrong.

Those weren’t snow “flurries,” but a full-fledged snowstorm. Traffic in the street below was at a crawl. The bank site was going to take even longer to process with this weather. And, he remembered, he didn’t have a warm coat because he had been so pissed when he’d come in last night, he’d stripped the soaking wet thing off and dropped it on the floor as he went in search of Winston. He had no clue where the hell it had gone. Damn and double damn. Freeze his ass off or stop everything to go shopping. Something he rarely did unless he was out of clean underwear.