Undercover Virgin (8 page)

"Almost. I have some sewing to finish. Then I'll be ready."

"Sewing?" he asked, following her back inside the cabin. He glanced toward the table. "Have an underwear explosion while I was gone?"

Rianna gave him a grin. "No, I'm just practicing an old trick my mother taught me."

"And what's that?"

"Well," she explained as she went back to work, "you buy two matching pairs of underwear,
then
you cut part of the front panel out of one and sew it to the front panel of its mate. That makes a neat little pocket that can be sealed with thin strips of Velcro."

"For hiding something?"

"For hiding a small plastic pouch with cash, an ID, and, in my case, the key to a post office box."

"Nice, neat little package?"

"I never go anywhere without one."

"Even to swim?"

"Even to swim. That's why I bought matching bikinis. The plastic protects everything, so the shower's about the only place I go without my backup supplies."

"Clever. Your mother taught you this?"

"Yes, and it's a trick that's saved me on several occasions."

"I imagine it has," he said.

Conscious of his scrutiny, she lifted her gaze from her handiwork. Tremont had a strange expression on his face. It almost looked like compassion.

"Why are you staring?"

"I'm curious. I know parents teach their kids survival tactics, but why in the hell would your mother teach you something like that? What ever happened to the basics, like putting overzealous boyfriends in their place or protecting yourself against would-be muggers?"

Rianna dropped her gaze again. "My dad taught me that kind of stuff. Mom just expanded on the teachings."

"Why?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, but knew exactly what he meant. How many mothers taught their children strange survival tricks? Hers had done so out of necessity.

"Why did she think you'd need that sort of security?"

"We moved a lot when I was younger."

"So did we, but not without a chance to collect our stuff first. Why would you move with no more security than money tucked in underwear? Were you running from someone or something?"

Rianna debated telling him the whole truth. Instinct told her to trust him, yet it didn't come easily. She held his gaze for a few minutes, and then returned her attention to her work.

"Don't!" He ground the word out harshly, surprising her into looking directly at him again.

"Don't what?" she asked lightly.

"Don't shut me out. Just give me the basics. I can deal with whatever you have to say, and I know how to keep a secret."

Something about the intensity of his demand made her heart stutter. Did he really care? Why? His tone suggested more than idle curiosity, but what? Rianna found herself telling him a little about her childhood.

"When I was twelve, my family got moved into a witness protection program, but we never felt safe. As soon as we'd get comfortable, the location would be compromised and we'd have to move. My parents taught us to be prepared."

"Witness protection? I know about it from the agency's end, but I never gave much thought to living that way. How could your location be jeopardized that often?"

"I don't know." Having finished her project, she gathered up the panties, tossing the ruined ones into the trash. "I was just a kid, so I didn't know all the specifics—just what my parents told me."

"Which agency was in charge of your relocation? Sounds like someone screwed up royally and kept putting your family in danger. Who do you blame for a breakdown in the system?"

She considered his questions as she put her panties away with the rest of her things. He didn't need to know that the FBI had failed her family. Or that she and Donald still didn't know who the informant had been.
Blaine
had been with the agency for years, so maybe he was the key to learning more.

"I don't know all the answers. I wish I did, but I don't," she said. Having already donned the navy-blue bikini, she headed to the rear of the boat.

Tremont followed, but she ignored him and opened the door to the back deck. "I'm going to swim now," she said, then dove cleanly over the side.

End of conversation.

Chapter 5

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^
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R
ianna swam for a while, and then did a little sunbathing. She tanned easily but hadn't been exposed
to
much sun lately, so she wanted to be careful not to overdo it. After coating herself with a liberal amount of sunscreen, she stretched out in a lounge chair on the upper deck of the boat.

Tremont stood near the railing with a collection of fishing gear scattered around him. She decided to lie on her stomach, but turned her head so that she could admire his casting techniques. Every hard line of his body was aesthetically pleasing.

She couldn't help remembering how solid he'd felt when she'd latched on to him this morning. Even the memory of his reaction heated her blood hotter than the sun baked her ski.

It had been so long since anyone had held her, tightly and securely. Just held her. Without pretense, without making demands she couldn't accept.

He'd wanted her this morning. At least, his body had hungered for hers. The thought thrilled a very private, feminine part of her. She found him wildly attractive and was pleased that he reciprocated the feeling, even if neither of them planned to act on it. It still gave her ego a much-needed boost, a warm, fuzzy feeling to hug to herself.

Gregory hadn't wanted her in a physical sense. He'd had plenty of women willing to satisfy his carnal desires. He'd been openly affectionate in public, but very impersonal in private. The setup had suited her needs, yet it had kept her isolated. She'd had no one she could trust or be comfortable with for months.

Tremont had to be applauded for not trying to take advantage of their forced intimacy. She hadn't known whether his legendary honor extended to personal relationships. She supposed it did, yet she had an insane urge to entice him beyond his control.

What would it take to make him lose control? What kind of woman would it take to make a man like him forget everything but raw, primitive need? Did such a woman exist? Was she stupid to even speculate? Probably. She'd never been the type to stir men to unbridled passion.

Deciding her backside had been exposed long enough, Rianna turned to offer her front to the sun. Tremont had fussed about her staying on deck too long, but it felt as close to heaven as she'd ever known.

Gregory, Sullivan, the agency and its moles were far, far away while she basked on her tiny island of freedom. She tilted a visor over her eyes, but managed to keep Tremont in full view. She loved watching the play of muscles in his arms and shoulders as he swung the fishing pole to cast out his line. His subdued but obvious strength fascinated her.

The
midday
sun soon had every inch of her skin tingling from prolonged exposure. Flesh that had been cooled by the water was now sizzling. Heat penetrated her bikini top to tighten her nipples, spreading the nerve-titillating sensation throughout her body. Watching her hunky companion increased her arousal, so she shut her eyes and tried to get a rein on her wayward libido.

Dozing and unaware of the passing time, she continued to rest until a shadow fell over her body. At the same time, she felt the gentle splash of something cool on her neck. It sizzled on her overheated flesh. Peeking from beneath the visor, she glared at Tremont. He stood beside her chaise, dribbling bottled water on her sun-drenched skin.

It felt like a liquid caress against her bare flesh, so cool and sensual that her breasts grew full and tight. For that reason only, she gasped and glared at him. He returned her gaze with an unrepentant and totally wicked grin.

"Time's up."

"Uh-uh, I'm not on a schedule."

"Oh, yeah, you are. You've had enough sun and enough exposure for one day. It's not safe to stay out here too long."

"Go away. You're just mad because you can't catch any fish."

"What makes you think that?"

She couldn't confess to having watched his every move, so she improvised. "I haven't heard any of those triumphant male whoops," she drawled. "I think they're a must for you macho types."

"Macho, huh? What if I'm just a kind, sensitive guy who throws the fish back in the water?"

Rianna rolled her eyes in disbelief, and then she returned his grin. In that instant of teasing, something hot and electric flashed between them. So hot that her muscles tensed and her breath got caught in her throat.

Tremont's eyes grew hooded, his features a taut mask as he stared down at her. She licked her lips, feeling wary, yet wildly excited by the fierce hunger throbbing between them. She needed to diffuse the situation before it erupted into passion, yet the look in his eyes held her mesmerized.

"If you're going to waste your water, dribble some into my mouth," she said, never imagining that the simple action could take on the impetus of sexual foreplay.

He did as she asked, watching her with an unblinking concentration as she swallowed, then lapped the excess off her lips. The unbridled flash of excitement in his eyes caused her breathing to grow shallow. Her heart banged against her chest as every nerve ending in her body quivered with excitement.

Closing her eyes against the ferocity of desire in his, she struggled to regain control of her rampaging pulse. Counting to ten and practicing her deep-breathing technique seemed the most practical course of action. At least, until he began to paint her body with the remaining water.

She felt the cooling stream of liquid start at her fingertips, run up her arms, across her chest and then down the other arm. Her skin sizzled, the cool water on her hot flesh causing a potent reaction in every cell of her body.

Next, he bathed her left foot, letting the water tickle over her toes and then zigzag its way up her calf to her thigh. She felt
its
pooling coolness on her stomach, where he painted a slow, leisurely pattern of water that caused her breathing to falter and her muscles to contract.

Her right leg got equal treatment, from toes to thigh,
then
the water settled in her naval. Rianna was coming apart at the seams. The erotic bath made her breasts swell against the confines of the bikini top, her nipples aching for attention.

She didn't think she could get any more aroused, until Tremont aimed the water directly onto those rigid peaks. He slowly and painstakingly saturated each nipple through the cloth until her nerves sung with tension and she felt like launching herself off the chaise.

Her sharply indrawn breath signaled the devastating impact his caresses were having on her self-control.

"Kyle!" The exclamation was a tangle of shock, reprimand and excitement. His first name slipped out, inadvertently destroying another small barrier between them.

"I'm cooling you off."

The words were simple, but his husky tone conveyed a more primitive message. His voice was thick with wanting. He wanted her. Maybe as much as she wanted him. Rianna dragged in a breath and opened her eyes, leveling her gaze at his body. He stood so close that his arousal was directly in her line of view. It bulged beneath the thin fabric of his shorts, signaling his own undeniable hunger.

She knew she should close her eyes and block out the sight, but her body wasn't obeying the frantic mental commands. This man had the power to make her forget all her carefully formed plans. Feeling suddenly overwhelmed and out of her league, her panicked brain searched for a way to shatter the escalating tension.

"I think I'll take a swim. That should cool me." She intended to make a firm announcement, but the words came out all low and shaky. Clearing her throat, she tried again. "Maybe we both better take a dip."

Kyle took a step backward and offered her his hand, his gaze never wavering from hers. The blue in his eyes had gone dark and hazy with need, but he allowed her some space. She slipped her hand in his and let him draw her to her feet. The touch of skin on skin lit more fires along her nerves. Another minute of contact and she'd disintegrate into a pile of ashes.

"Race you?" Her challenge lacked spirit, coming out all confused and breathy.

"Not until I get a drink of that water," he said on a low growl, pulling her tight against him and taking her mouth with savage hunger.

He tossed the empty water bottle aside and clutched her head with both hands as he ground his mouth onto hers. The force of his kiss left Rianna helpless to respond or withdraw, until he gradually eased the pressure. Then she opened her mouth and welcomed his tongue with abandon, stroking and sucking until she drew a moan from deep in his throat.

Her hands clutched at his waist, the feel of the taut, warm skin making her eager for closer contact. He continued to cradle her head, devouring her mouth, while she strained to fit their bodies more snugly together. The rigid pressure of his arousal against her lower body made her insides quiver. Her legs began to tremble, and soon his strength was all that kept her upright.

Kyle finally lifted his mouth, allowing them to gulp in air, and then he nibbled at her lips while she fought to regain some control. Her desire for him was too strong, frighteningly so. She'd never wanted a man as much as she wanted him, and that scared the hell out of her.

Desire warred with common sense, but then he captured her mouth for another long, deep kiss. He coaxed her tongue into his mouth and sucked deeply. She felt the pull of it deep in the pit of her stomach. Moaning and rocking against him, she felt herself falling off a dangerous precipice and fought to pull herself back from the edge.

"Kyle, please!" she whispered against his hard mouth, unclear of what she begged for most.

"Tell me you're protected," he insisted gruffly, grasping her hips, lifting her and pulling her legs around his waist.

The action brought his arousal to the juncture of her thighs, and she gasped at the exquisite feel. So close. The satisfaction she craved was so close, his body straining and throbbing against her. She rocked herself against him and then swallowed his groan in another ravishing kiss.

"Protection," he repeated, while his fingers dug into her flesh and pulled her still closer.

She took birth control pills. A female agent in a potentially dangerous situation had to protect herself against the possibility of sexual assault. But she couldn't get the words past the lump in her throat. She wanted him, ached for him, yet something kept her from making the final commitment.

"No!" She almost screamed the word.

Kyle jerked his head back as though she'd slapped him. She felt every one of his long fingers pressing into her skin as his features underwent a frightening transformation. Rianna watched in horror as contempt replaced the passion in his eyes.

"Forget
yourself
for a while?" he snarled in a soft, dangerous tone that sent a shiver over her. "Or are you as skilled at teasing as you are at everything else? Another day, another conquest? Is that how you operate?"

For just an instant, she felt a shiver of fear. Kyle's demeanor had changed in the space of a heartbeat. The drastic change shook her, and then it made her sick with shame.

She shouldn't have screamed; but her instinct had been to protect them both. He believed her capable of selling herself, body and soul. It only proved how little they really knew each other. Succumbing to passion would satisfy a temporary urge, but ultimately make their situation worse.

She tried to pull out of his grasp, but he wouldn't let her go. Instead, he swung her into his arms. Stifling the desire to scream, she clung as he moved across the deck.

"Hold your breath," he commanded harshly.

The next thing she knew, they were catapulting down the sliding board. They hit the water hard and sank so deep that she nearly panicked. Quickly disentangling herself from his arms, she fought her way to the surface and dragged in a much-needed breath of air.

He swiftly put some distance between them, swimming toward the shore with strong, sure strokes. Rianna watched him, her heart heavy. What must he think of her? And why did it matter so much? He'd been equally guilty in the explosion of passion, but she felt like a fool and a phony.

After dragging in a few long breaths, she floated in the water until she'd recovered her composure. When he started swimming back toward the boat, she climbed from the water and headed straight for the shower.

Once she'd finished, Kyle took a turn, and she made them a light lunch. They ate in silence, each having withdrawn into a protective shell. Then he spent the next couple of hours boating around the lake while she watched a movie on the VCR. Despite their separate pastimes, each was acutely aware of the other's proximity.

* * *

Toward late afternoon, Kyle realized the fuel tank was getting low. He turned to Rianna, allowing
himself
to study her for the first time since he'd had her in his arms. His muscles tightened at the memory, but he determinedly ignored the reaction.

Once his hormones were under control, he had gotten over the anger at her rejection. She'd prevented them from committing a major act of stupidity. Pregnancy might not be a concern, but he didn't have any condoms with him. It shook him to think he would have engaged in unprotected sex with a woman who'd shared her body with scum like Haroldson.