Killer Secrets (5 page)

she had never known a moment's nerves with a potential
lover.

She could feel the blood rushing through her veins, need
pooling between her thighs, and a haunting ache

tightening her chest. An ache that had little to do with
the arousal, but much to do with the emotions he

inspired in her. Emotions as alien as the nerves.

"Is he upset?" She twirled the card in her
fingers as she stared back at Deke, allowing a small grin to curl

the edges of her lips.

Deke glanced at her door, a grin quirking his sensual lips.
"Ask him yourself and see."

As she turned back to the door it swung open. A hard hand
gripped her wrist and jerked her inside

before the door slammed closed behind her.

She was pushed against it, her breath whooshing from her
lips as her hands were gripped in one of his,

held high above her head, and every inch of her body was
molded to the hard length of his.

Her juices pooled between the lips of her sex then eased
into the silk of the thong she wore beneath her

leather pants. Her nipples spiked impossibly harder, and
she swore she could feel a bead of sweat

tickling between her breasts.

No one had ever felt like Ian. Hard, in control,
commanding. Every touch, every action, gauged for

maximum pleasure.

The hand holding her wrists tightened as the fingers of the
other threaded through her hair and pulled her

head back to stare into the blazing heat of his deep brown
eyes. Eyes almost as rich as brandy, fired with

dark little hints of red and filled with fury.

Dark blond hair fell over his forehead; the rich mix of
colors, sun lightened and thick, lying long along his

nape and falling over his brow made her long to bury her
fingers in it again.

He turned her on in ways she had never been turned on
before. She dreamed about sex with Ian. Lusted

for it. Ached for it. She had agreed to deceive him for the
slightest chance to be touched by those hard

hands again.

"What the fucking hell are you doing here?" he
snarled down at her as his head lowered.

His lips buried in her shoulder, opening to allow his teeth
to grip the flesh there, his tongue to lap over it

with quick heated strokes as she jerked against him.

"Business." Her head lowered as well.

The strong column of his neck was there for her enjoyment.
Her teeth raked it. She licked slowly and the

taste of male lust exploded against her taste buds.

God, he tasted good. She sucked at the flesh, a little moan
escaping her throat as he picked her up,

turned her, and in the next second bore her to the bed.

"Ian." She gasped his name, feeling the hard
length of his body covering hers, his thighs spreading hers,

his cock pressing hard and demandingly into the butter-soft
leather covering her sex.

Her hands were still stretched above her head, her breasts
perilously close to spilling from the cups of

the leather bustier she wore.

She felt bound. Helpless. She had never felt that way with
a man before. She had never wanted to feel

that way until Ian had shown her the pleasure to be found
there. Now she craved it. Craved him with a

hunger that refused to be quelled.

"You have no business here." His lips drew back
from his teeth as his free hand tugged at the ties that

secured the front of the bustier. "No business here.
No business close to here."

The top loosened, spread apart, and with a flick of his
fingers the cups covering her breasts were

released. Her breasts spilled free, nipples hard and
pointed, flushed red and aching for his touch.

"You're here." It was a statement and a moan as
his head lowered and his lips covered a tight, sensitive

nipple.

He wasn't easy on her, and she didn't want easy. His teeth
gripped and tugged, his tongue lashed with

wicked wet heat. Her eyeballs were going to roll back in
her head it was so damned good. He sucked on

her like a starving man.

Long moments later his head lifted, thick dark blond lashes
fanning his cheeks as he stared down at his

handiwork.

Her nipple was tighter, if that was possible, gleaming wet
and ruby red.

"You wore too many clothes," he growled, his
voice, which was rough on a good day, grating now.

"I didn't want to appear too easy," she gasped as
his lips moved to the opposite breast and began their

less than tender ministrations.

God, this was what she had loved about the first and only
time he had touched her. He didn't treat her

like spun glass. He didn't touch her like she would break.
He touched her like a woman well able to

satisfy the dark, hungry sex drive she knew he possessed.
That he possessed and she craved to

experience.

"Not easy enough." He nipped the side of her
breast, his free hand moving to her hip, tugging at the laces

on her pants now as his lips moved back to hers.

Oh God, the taste of his kiss. It was incredible. It was
enough to steam her eyeballs, not to mention what

it was probably doing to the glass balcony doors across the
room.

She stretched beneath him, arched closer, rubbed against
the erection seated firmly against her pussy

and wished she could purr. It felt that damned good. So
good, she wondered if she could come from his

kiss alone.

Hell, she had never done that, but this was close. This was
edging closer. His tongue curled along hers,

stroked it, then teased her by licking at her lips. Then he
bit her.

Kira jerked her head back, glaring at him before she
returned the favor by nipping at his lower lip. His

hand tightened in her hair, jerked her back, and his lips
slammed over hers.

He released her wrists, wrapped his arms around her, and
began thrusting between her thighs, stroking

the silk of her panties and the leather of her pants
against her, rubbing against her clit and causing little

snarls to echo in her throat.

Damn him, he was burning her alive.

Her hands buried themselves in his hair, pulled at it. Her
knees lifted and bent, clasping his hips as she

dug the sharp heels of her boots into the bed and tried to
defy the layers of material between them.

She wanted him, bad. She wanted his cock pounding into her.
Wanted him fucking her, filling her,

stealing her senses and her much lauded control with the
lusts that blazed between them.

This was no place for those lusts. The middle of an
investigation, in the eye of a storm that threatened to

close in on Ian like the narrowing spout of a cyclone. And
yet, just as before, the wild hunger flared

through her, rocked her, seared her senses. Opened
something inside herself that she didn't recognize. A

core of femininity. A certainty that the rabbit hole the
woman hid within had been discovered. The agent

she had become could no longer hide the woman desperate to
reveal herself.

She was immersed in thick, white-hot sensation and flowing
with damp, desperate need. And when his

hand slid into the loosened edge of her pants, his hips
pulled back, and his fingers found the bare flesh of

her saturated sex, Kira knew she was doomed.

She froze, but Ian didn't have any such inclinations. His
fingers found the narrow, sensitized slit, slid

through it, and two fingers speared into the snug, slick
entrance of her vagina.

"Oh God!" She tore her lips from his, the words
bursting from her lips as she felt the muscles surrounding

his fingers spasm, felt her juices spurt around them.

"Damn you, you're hot!" He bit her neck, just
like a damned freaking vampire. Just bit right into it and

sent her eyes rolling back in her head again as a shudder
tore through her.

Her hips jerked, working her sex on his fingers as she felt
the explosion just a breath away. Just a frickin'

breath. It was so close she could feel it, taste it, smell
it.

"Oh, it's not that easy," he snarled, his fingers
stilling inside her, just filling her, holding her on the edge of

a precipice that was painful.

"Would be," she panted. "If you wouldn't be
such a
jackass
!" She just wanted to come. It wasn't
like

she wanted national secrets or something. Hell, she already
had those.

His smile was tight, hard. His hair, mussed from her
fingers, fell around his dark tanned face, his lips

swollen from her kisses.

He looked like the dominant male he was. A sexually
dominant, fierce and forceful, take-all-control

kinda guy. He wasn't going to let a lover control her
sexuality or his. That was his prerogative, and by

God if he didn't know how to do it. Not exactly her normal
taste, but he had become a craving.

"What are you doing here, Kira?" He stroked her,
inside, just the sweetest, most delicious rubbing of her

internal muscles with the tips of his fingers.

Shiverlicious. She shivered and gasped and grew wetter, it
was just that damned good.

"Business. Working." She tried to breathe. Hell,
breathing was overrated anyway. If she held her breath,

just held it, she could almost fall off the edge from those
rasping little strokes inside her pussy.

"Working huh?" He bent and ran his tongue over a
stiff nipple. "You do remember how I punish liars,

don't you?"

Was that really her moaning like she wanted to be punished?
Oh hell no, couldn't be. She didn't play

those games, and she wasn't into any kind of submission.
Until it came to Ian. Her butt clenched, she

couldn't help it. And she knew he felt it. She knew she
felt his knowing chuckle against her nipple.

"Bite me," she groaned. She didn't order or snap.
Nope, she groaned, like a helpless whimpering little

submissive begging for her master's touch.

"Where?" His teeth rasped over her nipple.

"That works."

He bit her. Not too hard. Just enough. He closed his teeth
on her nipple just enough for her to feel the

pleasure/pain.

Sweet Holy Mother . . . She arched, bearing down on the
fingers filling her, and thought for certain she

would go off like fireworks from that alone.

God help her, she needed to orgasm.

"Might as well answer me." He blew another breath
over the tight, tormented peak. "What are you up

to, Trouble?"

"Trouble," she agreed, a moan filling the word as
his fingers shifted inside her, reached higher and found

the most amazing little bunch of nerve endings. Hell, where
had those come from? That wasn't the

G-spot, it might even be better than the G-spot.

The I-spot. The Ian spot.

"Oh God, just let me come," she panted, her hands
tightening in his hair as her breathing became harder,

rougher.

"Tell me," he whispered, but despite his seeming
determination, he wasn't unaffected.

Kira stared into his eyes and saw the near black irises,
the burgundy glow of lust, and the flush mantling

his cheekbones. Heavy sensuality shaped his lips and gave
his gaze a drowsy, wicked appearance.

"I swear on my uncle's bank account. Business. Just business.
Now get me off, dammit." She tried to

writhe beneath him, tried to go that last little sensation
into orgasm without his help.

"Goddamn you!"

Before Kira could react his fingers had slid from her body,
jerked from beneath her pants, and he was

jackknifing from the bed to glare at her as he stood over
her.

And there she lay, panting, her nipples standing as
straight and tall as the imperial guard and her vagina

still gushing with need.

"Tease!" She rolled to the other side of the bed,
sat on the edge, and jerked her boots off first, then