Real Men Last All Night (6 page)

Willow wiggled beneath him. "Even the ones with the little ears."

Zane snorted from trying to hold back a laugh and then one escaped him anyway. He pressed his forehead against her collarbone. "You are something else, honey."

"Yeah, well, I'm someone who wants you really bad." She squirmed beneath him. "I think I'll pass out if you don't get to— get to—"

"Fucking you?" He raised his head and looked down at her with a grin before he stated,

"Can't say it, can you?"

"Just do it!" Willow looked like the sweat rolling down the sides of her face were actually tears of pleasure and pain.

Zane decided to have mercy on her—and himself—and began driving in hard and fast, so hard his balls slapped against her ass.

"Yeah. Oh, God." Willow tilted her head back and her chest rose and fell in harsh breaths. "That's what I want. Don't you dare stop or I'll show you that I'm capable of violence."

Zane almost snorted again and choked back a laugh. Who knew great sex could be so much fun, too? But he couldn't stop if he wanted. He kept up a steady pace, ramming into her as deep as he could go and enjoying the feel of heaven as her slick, tight core gripped him.

Willow had thought nothing could be more exciting, more intense, more fabulous than that restaurant sex. But this—this was blowing everything she'd ever imagined out of the water.

As Zane took her, she felt like heat was rushing up and down her skin in waves. He was so big that the walls of her core felt every thrust, every movement he made.

He wasn't moving fast or hard enough as far as she was concerned even though he was pounding in and out of her. She raised her hips up to meet his every thrust and wriggled to feel even more friction in her canal.

She met his gaze and her body started to vibrate. His green eyes focused intently on her, like she was the only thing that mattered to him in the world.

That look, the depth of passion in his eyes, made her orgasm rush toward her in an even hotter wave that burned her as she climaxed.

Willow let loose a cry that had to be heard for miles-—one that would have the neighbors calling the police because they thought someone was being murdered.

As she came close to passing out and everything grew darker, she now knew what the French meant by "le petit mort," an orgasm being a "little death."

She fought to remain conscious as she experienced the most amazing thing she'd ever felt. Waves and waves of heat washed over her body as she shook. She gasped as she became fully conscious, her entire being trembling as Zane continued his relentless thrusting in and out of her.

Then he shouted, "Oh, shit!" before pulling his cock out of her.

At first, confusion sparked in Willow's orgasm-fuzzy mind until Zane fisted his hand around his cock and milked it. His semen spurted onto her belly in warm streaks until he was finished.

"Tell me you're on the pill," he said at the same time he collapsed and rolled them both so they were on their sides, facing each other.

She smiled as she saw the concern in his eyes while he used the sheet to wipe her belly.

"I am."

"I've been tested and I've always used a condom—until right now." He looked up from, what he was doing. "So you don't have to worry about that. Should have thought to tell you before you went down on me."

"I just donated blood a couple of months ago." Willow couldn't help a grin. "But I haven't been with anyone for a very long time. It's pretty much impossible to contract anything when you haven't had sex for a couple of years."

"What the hell?" Zane stopped wiping her belly. "You've gone
two years
with no sex?"

"At least." She shrugged. "I just never met the right person who remotely interested me."

"And then you have sex with a man you don't even know on the same day you meet him."

He let the sheet drop back onto the bed and he moved his hand up to caress her hip.

"That's awfully dangerous, honey. Like I said before, you lead with your heart."

"Okay, okay, you're right." She trailed her fingers over his jaw, his stubble rough beneath her sensitized fingertips. "But I also knew my instincts were dead-on -when it came to you. I didn't have a single doubt in my mind that you're a good man, and that this would be right."

"Thank you." Zane cupped the back of her head and drew her to him for a hard kiss. "But you're not allowed to pick up strange men ever again."

Willow raised her brows. "Oh? And who's going to stop me?" "I'll figure out a way,"

Zane said before he rolled her onto her back and took her again.

"Aunt Becky, really, it was okay." Zane had dropped Willow off five hours ago, at three in the morning, but she was wide awake and exhilarated. She crumpled a paper napkin and made an easy shot into the kitchen waste can. Two points, easy. "Zane's a nice guy and—"

"But you didn't know him." Becky set a plate on the breakfast bar with scrambled eggs, sausage links, and toast, which smelled so good Willow's mouth watered. She climbed onto a bar stool and swiveled on it as she lost a little steam under her aunt's gaze.

Becky put her hand on one of her portly hips. "Staying out until three a.m. with any man the first day you meet him isn't safe."

If she truly had an idea of exactly what Willow and Zane had been doing until two-thirty in the morning . . . Willow wasn't sure she wanted to know how her aunt would react. No, make that she
definitely
didn't want to know.

"Well, now I've met and had dinner with Zane. And we spent a lot of time talking and getting to know one another." Well, some of the time. Willow folded her arms on the breakfast bar. "And I know he's a good guy."

Becky sighed and adjusted the clip at the back of her silver-streaked blond hair. "Secret Service, right? That's what you said?"

Willow swallowed back the desire to tell Becky that she'd learned that Stacy had died for her country. Everyone thought it was a random act of violence. It was so unfair that no one outside of whatever agency Stacy worked for could know the truth.

Becky straightened and Willow met her aunt's hazel eyes. "You've been an angel to stay with us these past few months and helping out like you have with your job at Macy's."

Becky reached up and put her hand over Willow's. "But you have a life to get back to."

"I'm enjoying being here with you." Willow said, and meant it.

Becky squeezed her hand. "For the Lord's sake, child, you've done everything but defend your dissertation to get your doctorate. You keep putting it off to stay with us. You need to go back to NYU, take care of it, and start applying for a position doing what you're so good at. Helping people."

Becky drew her hand away and her smile showed she was proud, sad, and frustrated with Willow. "Just imagine the lives you'll be touching. The positive impact you can make on so many futures."

"I want to be here for you right now." Willow glanced around the large, eclectic living area that she could see from the breakfast bar.

A place that would never have the grandchildren running around that Stacy and her fiance would have had. Stacy and Barry had planned to start a family—she was going to be quitting her job as "an interpreter" to start her new life with her future husband.

Now that future was gone. No grandchildren would be terrorizing this house or their grandparents' cranky poodle.

Willow met her aunt's eyes. "Would you rather I leave?"

"Lord knows I love having you here." Becky's eyes grew a little watery and she busied herself wiping down the kitchen counters. "But you're putting your life on hold when you need to be living it."

"Right now I'm where I need to be." Willow picked up her fork but her hand shook for some strange reason. "I need to start preparing again to defend my dissertation anyway, and I can get busy on that in the mornings while I work in the cosmetics department in the afternoons."

"Then promise me this." Becky carefully folded the cloth she'd been wiping the counters with and set it beside the stainless steel sink. "After your daily morning run, you
will
go to the library every weekday morning with your laptop and do whatever polishing up you need to on that big paper, the dissertation.
And
schedule a date to go to New York City and be done with it." Becky's gaze was firm, determined. "No more keeping me company in the mornings before you go to work. I'm fine."

Willow gave her aunt a faint smile. "Can you and I still have Saturdays together as our day?"

"Until it's time for you to move on." Becky looked so much younger when she smiled.

"Absolutely."

"Good." Willow looked at her plate and back to her aunt. "How about breakfast? Can we still chat over your wonderful dishes?"

"Of course." Becky reached up and stroked Willow's hair over her shoulder before letting her hand drop away. "I want you to promise me one more thing."

Willow tilted her head to the side. "What's that?"

Becky gave Willow "the eye" that said she wasn't fooling around.

So many times that look had scared the crap out of Willow and Stacy when they were kids. Willow had to fight the urge to squirm on the bar stool.

"No more picking up strange men in the Common," Becky said in a firm tone.

Willow smiled as she thought of Zane, who'd actually never left her thoughts at all. "I've heard that somewhere before."

Zane hadn't managed to get much sleep after he'd dropped off Willow and he'd forgotten to shave this morning. One glance at the glass wall of his office and seeing his reflection told him he looked like shit.

He couldn't get images of her off his mind: Willow looking fresh and pretty while she sat on a park bench in the Common eating ice cream; then supermodel-stunning at the restaurant; and best of all, how she looked after she'd just been fucked. Her features flushed, her lips parted and swollen from his kisses, her hair messy on his pillow, and her sea-blue eyes looking at him with pleasure and trust.

Trust. Zack looked out through the glass wall and toward the Command Center and its rush of activity with agents working on cases. The hundred or so monitors and screens gave the whole floor a blue glow. Goddamnit, Willow was too trusting and it was going to get her into trouble.

What are you going to do about it, Steele?

Zane rubbed his temples with his fingers. That was a question he wasn't ready to answer even though that answer hovered at the edge of his mind.

Why'd he agree to have lunch with Willow today?

Because she deserves more than a one-night stand, fuckhead.

And because he had to see her again. Her smile, the honesty in her clear blue eyes, the fact that she said whatever was on her mind, and her unpretentious beauty . . .
damn.

Last night, before he'd dropped her off at her aunt and uncle's home, they'd agreed to take it a little slower.

Now he was regretting that agreement like hell.

"Knock knock."

Zane looked up to see Georgina Rizzo at his door. The agent showed every bit of her Italian ancestry in her striking looks. Those looks had gotten her a long way undercover.

She was not only beautiful, but a damned fine agent.

"Are you all right, Steele?" Rizzo wore what looked like an incredibly expensive red silk blouse along with a tailored black skirt that came to mid-thigh. Her long dark hair hung in waves around her shoulders and she wore large hoop earrings that were obviously pure gold. She was the poster girl for the perfect Italian mafia girlfriend.

She tossed her hair back in a way that was sure to grab a man's attention. "I wanted to stop by and give you a report before I headed back out into the jungle."

"Everything okay?" Zane pointed to a chair in front of his desk.

Rizzo gracefully sat in the chair, crossed her legs at her knees, and casually draped her arms on the armrests. "At least Albano Petrelli is, a gorgeous bastard of a mafioso,
Capo
Bastone."

"So you're in good with the underboss?" Zane reclined in his own chair. He didn't have to worry about Rizzo being followed— she was too good of an agent for that.

"Of course." Georgina held out her hand and examined her red nails before putting her hand down and giving Zane an amused look. "Albano didn't know what hit him once I got a hold of him."

"So what's up with the arms deal?" Zane said.

"The arms the Petrellis are selling?" Rizzo said. "They're Barrett 82A1 .50 cal. Armor piercing."

High-capacity semiauto rifles. Shit. Zane rubbed his temples again. "Okay, we've got specs on the shipment. But I still don't have time, location, and who they're selling weapons to."

"Oh, but I do," Rizzo said with a wicked smile. "One a.m. Tuesday morning at the Klein warehouse." She got to her feet. "Albano's totally in lust with me so he doesn't worry if I'm around when he's talking business." She frowned. "And get this. They're selling the weapons to a terrorist faction led by a man named Hisham Nasri."

Zane ground his teeth. "Since when did the Italian mafia start trading arms with terrorists?"

"When the terrorists offered more cash than the Petrellis make pushing dope, they went for it," Rizzo said.

"I doubt any of the other families are going to be happy about this if they find out."

Rizzo nodded. "We might want to leak that info."

Zane studied Rizzo for a moment as he thought of what she had to do to get this intel.

"You're still okay with this op?"

Rizzo winked at Zane. "Like I said, Albano's
hot.
I can handle him." She shuddered. "It would be worse if I had to snort coke or if he shot me up with that designer sex drug, Lascivious, and tried to share me."

"If we're looking for a positive, that would be it," Zane said. "Excellent work, Rizzo. Just watch your back and your front."

Georgina Rizzo gave Zane a sultry look as she put her hand on her hip. "Baby, you're the only one for me," she said in a way that would send most men to their knees. Then she laughed. "Gets Albano every time.

"He thinks I'm out shopping." She held up the red purse that matched her blouse and looked even more incredibly expensive than her clothing. "Just wait until Wickstrom gets a load of my expense report for this purse and the clothes I had to buy before I got into Albano's graces." Rizzo opened the clasp of her purse. "Check this out." She tilted her purse so Zane could get a good look and he shook his head at the enormous roll of hundred-dollar bills. "Baby, I love to shop. No hardship here."