The Risqué Target (6 page)

He studied her face, then moved closer to her heaving chest, his eyes still holding hers. She felt the heat rise in answer to his brazen gaze.

“It also doesn’t turn me on to take a woman against her will,” he said, lifting his hand slowly to her face. The pad of his thumb ran along her bottom lip.

She licked the spot he'd just touched, savoring the sumptuous caress when he moved to her collarbone. He traced his finger down along the exposed skin between her breasts. The illicit action sparked a curious caution throughout her body. If he indeed took her, it wouldn’t be against her will.

He heedlessly grazed her nipple through the thin material with his finger. “So why don't you tell me when you want me to stop?” He ran his finger over her swollen bud.

Never
! She never wanted him to stop. An ache, a wild throb began between her legs.
Stay in control, Nala. You've got to break free and remove the gun before you can fuck him.
Because fucking him was what she planned to do. It'd been too long, and Marcus Richards was leaving her no other choice. He was a master of seduction, and she was certain to let go of her inhibitions. There were no boundaries, no rules to follow. His daring touches didn’t frighten her. They were nothing more than temptations.

She opened her lips to request to be released to go into the bathroom—she had to get rid of the gun—but he seized her mouth before she could get the words out. His warm tongue slithered past her lips, sweeping and swirling, fighting for her returned touch. Fingertips pinched her nipple, and that was when she gave in and met his hot fight.

Tugging on her wrists, he arched her further toward him. She succumbed, bending into his impudent taking. There was something erotic about being bound by his hand, something profane about being taken by such a potent man, but she found she kind of liked it and wanted more. The pulsating ache between her legs heightened. A flood of moisture pushed through her as he continued with the torture.

A velvety but hoarse moan slithered up her throat and escaped her lips. Her eyes flew open from the noise, from the little emission, and she looked up into his ardent glare. An indecent and knowing smile appeared on his face.

The power of masculinity gazed down at her through naughty, bad-boy eyes. It was those eyes she'd gotten caught up in. She never thought she would be wooed so easily by such an arrogant man, but this particular man was irresistible. Nothing about him was fake or too much. His proficient movements and his to-die-for looks were purely sexy, even if on the verge of improper.

“Make that sweet little sound for me again,” he coaxed with that all-too-male voice, teasing her with his skilled fingers as he squeezed and pulled at her nipple.

She couldn’t do it on demand. That she'd done it at all was a surprise, even to her.

“You need some help, don't you?” He slid his hand beneath her dress and cupped her breast, scooping her swollen mound into his hand. He firmly palmed her.

She bit back another moan that wanted to get out, dead set against giving into it and enjoying his challenging advances.

A zealous grin spread over his confident face. His teeth were straight except for the left canine, just a bit longer than the rest and the one break in his perfection. She aspired to run her tongue over that little imperfection.

Arching a brow, he asked, “No?”

With that one little word, she sensed he wasn’t beaten. He had no doubt he'd get that moan from her, whether she liked it or not. Imprisoned by his assurance, that laid-back attitude worked for him. He could get away with it and still be enticing.

“Do you need a little more persuasion?” His masculine scent and his low, rough drawl mingled to enhance his natural attractiveness.

“Yes, persuade me.” She hardly believed she’d said it. But she wanted to know what he'd do to pluck another moan from her.

The smile on his face became perilous. He pulled her dress to the side, and her naked breast thrust out into the cool air. As he stalked it with his eyes, she felt her nipple lift toward him, calling out to him. She almost lost her ability to stand as his head lowered, his lips coming close to her bare, aroused peak. Anticipation clawed inside her.

Flicking those tempting, strange-colored eyes up at her, he caught her observing him but returned to his purpose. Each calculated movement was painstakingly slow. There was no rushing. His unhurried teasing drove her insane, as if it were possible to make her want him more.

“How about this?” he taunted, his tongue sliding between his lips, striking her imploring nipple.

All her self-discipline gone, she shamelessly leaned in for the next strike. He licked her, wetting her tight nipple and sensitizing it. His mouth, his tongue, sent waves of excitement throughout her incapacitated body.

“I don’t hear anything. Perhaps a bit more persuasion?” He snatched the tip between his teeth, adding light pressure, nibbling, and then he started to suck.

She couldn’t prevent the moan that rumbled from her. It had to get out, the sexual frustration, the energy building in her. It needed release.

Praising her, his husky tone stroked, “Ah, that's it, sweetheart. That sexy sound makes me so fucking hot.” Recapturing her mouth, he pressed against her, proving exactly how hot, how hard she made him. A strong hand grabbed her thigh. “But what I really want is to make you hot.” He pulled her leg up and around him. His fingers slid along her heated flesh, nearing her pulsating core. He stopped, took his mouth from her lips, and looked down at her. Like his tongue and his hands, those incredible eyes ignited her.

“Tell me, what am I going to find if I keep going?” His fingers inched closer. Her heart raced. “Are you damp?” His hand moved another inch up her thigh. “Wet?” He smiled wickedly, and she gushed from the inside out. “Or, will you be drenched, sweetheart?”

Nala bit her lip. The forecast was indeed a flood warning. She wanted him to continue with this splendid tempest, to break every dam. She needed him to dip his fingers into the deep pool of her desire.

The side of his mouth kicked up. “What's wrong? Have I rendered you speechless?”

Nala found strength from his cockiness, from the challenge in his baiting tone. “No, I'm just wondering when you're going to stop teasing me”—she wielded her sexiest smile—“and finish what you've started.”

He released a deep, throaty chuckle. His finger was now close to her inner flesh, a mere stroke away. “Hot and sassy,” he drawled. His eyes boldly bathed her. They twinkled with a feral passion. “Don't worry, sweetheart. This is going to be the best night of your life.” Nearing her aching pussy, he squeezed her thigh with the tips of his fingers, pulling her heated flesh. “But you're only going to come when I say you can, and not one second sooner.” He withdrew slightly from the begging wetness between her thighs, possibly for another tormenting tease.

She went from on fire to frosty to completely frozen as the thought came to her.
Did he feel it?

Suddenly she was staring down the barrel of her own gun. She had her answer.

With narrowed eyes, he made an annoying clicking sound from the corner of his mouth as he turned to inspect her gun, the one he’d snagged from between her legs. She hadn’t even felt him take it.

He inhaled, tilted his head, and twitched the gun at her. “Didn't your daddy ever tell you that little girls shouldn’t play with guns?”

“On the contrary, it was a gift from my father.” She eyed him skeptically. “And I'll appreciate you giving it back.”

She waited to see what he’d do. She knew nothing about the man pointing her gun at her chest. She was still trapped, her wrists gripped by his hand behind her back. Slowly, as if it was a caress, he pressed his thigh across her legs. It rendered a groin kick impossible.

“Maybe we won’t find out how wet you are sweetheart,” he said regretfully. “Instead, I'm going to take a step back from you. If you move, my finger may slip. Do you understand me?”

She looked him steadily in the eye. “Yes.”

She heard the safety button click. The weapon was ready to go off. She remained still. He meant business, and she wasn’t going to mess around with a loaded gun. He could have it. “Guess I’ll have to ask Daddy to get me a new gun next Christmas.”

He released her. Slowly he moved away but kept his aim steady as he reached over to the sofa and picked up his jacket. “In my experience, a woman who straps a gun to her leg only does so for one of two reasons.” He threw his coat over his shoulder. “One, she's a killer, a hired assassin.” He released the cartridge from her gun and put it in his pocket. “Or two, she's an agent,” he said and tossed her empty gun to her. “Until I figure out which one you are, sweetheart, I can't sleep with you. I need to know who I'm fucking. But when I find out, you can bet your sweet little ass I'll be coming back for you.” He took a lethal step toward her.

She pressed her empty gun against her chest and held her breath. Both his forearms, the ones that flexed so beautiful when he poured her drink, trapped her again between him and the wall.

He glared into her eyes. “When I return for you, those sexy little moans will be turned into pleasurable, sweet, satisfied cries.”

Damn it!
He smelled so good she couldn’t resist breathing in his scent. She wondered if he knew how desirable he was.
Yep!
It was smoldering in his devil-dancing eyes. Marcus Richards was a man worth waiting for, but she had no idea if she’d ever see him again.

A firm hand snatched her chin, and he gave her a hard kiss. Not open mouth, only a brief, quick brush of his unyielding lips before he left her with the wall holding her up. Shaking, the terrible twos left unsatisfied, she exhaled, trying to alleviate the anxiety and turn off all the parts of her that he’d so expertly turned on.

She was still shaking from the man's kiss, from his touch, and the abrupt way he'd just walked out on her. He left her unsatisfied, aching for that second kiss. Nala's phone vibrated in her purse, and she stumbled over to the table. There was a text message from Gidget.
All right, chickie… still no ID on Tantum Maddox, but I sent a picture of his parents. Maybe he looks like them, and he may have a tattoo on his neck of a… oh, it's hard to describe. A curved knife or something tribal, not sure, just something I came across… will keep trying
.

Nala clicked the attached photos. An old picture of a couple popped up, a beautiful Latino woman and an attractive Anglo male. She zoomed in on the male. Her body went numb, and she became deaf. A rush of doom washed over her, knocking the terrible twos right from her mind.

The man's eyes! She'd seen them before, and that tattoo… .

It hit her, and her body shattered. The tiny pieces didn’t come together. They broke apart as it all started to blend. The eyes were that strange aqua color. His mother's skin was….

She grabbed her switchblade, the only functioning weapon she had, and sprinted the thirty-two feet to the elevator. She'd just let Tantum Maddox slip out of her hands. Worse, she'd almost had sex with the man who’d murdered Gabe.

Shit!

She kicked her foot between the elevator doors to stop them from closing.

Tantum Maddox casually stood with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a phone. He cocked his brow curiously at her. “What is it, sweetheart? You couldn't stay away?”

The doors closed behind her, locking them in together. She pressed slightly forward, wanting to pounce on him, but managed to hold back. She slid the handle of the blade lower, toward the palm of her hand. Her body was shaking on the inside, but she managed to keep her cool. Her words came out measured but resolute. “No, I couldn't. I've waited a very long time for you.”

“What, ten hours too long? We've just only met.” His husky voice no longer feathered her skin. Instead, it grated and sent a revolting shrill through her half-naked body.

She lifted onto her toes and took a careful step forward. “No. I've been waiting for years.”

He impassively sighed. “Listen, if you're looking for some kind of knight in shining armor, believe me, I'm not him,” he drawled out, and she wanted to slit his throat right then for his cocky, shrewd behavior.

She had been so close to spreading her legs for him, for Tantum Maddox, the devil himself. The notion caused a bitter, slow burn in her stomach and the acid sizzled up to her throat. She was going to kill him. Her feet moved and she nestled her body close to his. She sensed he wasn’t threatened by her. No, the pompous man thought she wanted more of him. Taking advantage of his relaxed state, she slowly lifted her arm and positioned the knife against his throat. Her heart started to race, “Oh, I know who you are,” she seethed, her lips tense.