Chapter Three
“I must be crazy,” she murmured, turning on her side as Ben got out of bed to deal with the condom. Her skin burned from his touch and the sear of his rough beard on her. And her insides still hummed with the pleasure of their coupling.
But yeah, she’d lost her mind. She stared at the bathroom door, waiting for him to come back—if he came back. For all she knew, he’d climb out the tiny window and escape.
That was unlikely, she told herself. And if he came back, would he want to do the post-coitus cuddling session?
Ugh, she was already a wreck. She knew Ben was no good for her, yet she’d let her libido take over every single one of her brain cells. Tomorrow how was she going to do her job and do it well? People depended on her to keep them safe and save lives, and she’d be so caught up in memories of… this… that she didn’t know if she could think straight.
The crack of the door opening almost gave her heart failure, and she jerked the covers up to her chin. His gaze fell over her, and damn if she didn’t feel the heat of it.
He returned to the bed and she felt the mattress give under his bulky weight. He curled around her, his mouth at her ear again. “You all right, honey?”
Did he have to smell so good, feel amazing and have the perfect tone of sweetness? It would be easier to kick him out of her bed if he was a jackass.
Maybe if she feigned sleep, he’d just leave. She wouldn’t put it past him to go against his word to stay till morning anyway.
He trailed his lips across her shoulder, raising the hairs on her neck. “You never told me your middle name.”
She twitched and rolled to her back to stare at him. “You remember that conversation?”
“I remember everything about that night.” He tapped his temple in a way that told her he didn’t forget much. “You know my middle name. I think it’s only fair for you to tell me yours.” He brushed his lips over the crest of her shoulder again.
“Yours is Bartholomew.” Though she didn’t know his last name, she did know that he had a slew of crazy brothers and sisters and was oldest. Other than that, she knew he had a penchant for crawfish and grits, but what self-respecting Louisianan didn’t?
He nodded, eyes shining. So green they reminded her of picnics and long hikes—two things she’d never be doing with Benjamin Bartholomew Whatever-His-Name-Was.
She gnawed on her lower lip until he pressed the pad of his thumb against it, removing it from her teeth. She pushed out a sigh. “My middle name’s nothing special. It’s Ann, after my mother.”
His smile was something straight off the glossy cover of a magazine—part bad boy, part movie star.
“No last names though,” she insisted.
His eyes darkened as if he didn’t like her condition, but he only nodded. “Fine.”
“Since we’re sharing, what do you do for a living?” If he was staying, he was giving more details.
Then at least my imagination would have more to play with.
A crease appeared between his brows. When he didn’t answer, she said, “With all these muscles, it could be construction.”
His brows smoothed.
“Am I right?”
“More like destruction. Demolition.”
Her hands had a mind of their own and roved over his muscled shoulders and hard pecs. When she reached the base of his abs, close to his stiff cock, he stopped her with a hand on her wrist.
“Before I let you have your way with me, you have to tell me what you do for a living.” His eyes burned into her, and she swore when she got off this bed, she’d find scorch marks outlining where she’d lain on the sheets.
“I’m a 911 operator.”
Interest sparked in his eyes. “Are you?”
“Yes. And I had a rough day at work that I need to forget. Now let me use you to forget.” She slithered down his body, landing kisses over his hard chest and flicking her tongue around one nipple to the sound of his groan.
Then she made her way down to the ripples of his abs. Licking each and every swell was the stuff women dreamed of when they looked at him, she was sure of it. She didn’t want to think of how many had navigated this chiseled landscape before her, and continued exploring until she reached his cock.
He lay on his back, one arm slung behind his head in a pose that looked far too casual for the tension she felt humming just under his skin. She flashed a glance at him and snaked out her tongue, tasting the spongy tip of his cock where the sweetness pooled.
His eyes drifted shut and a moan left him.
Feeling the power of having him at her mercy, she went on, swirling her tongue around and around the tip and then gliding it down the underside to the base.
Ben jerked his hips. “Fuck,” he bit off.
“Oh, we will, babe. Right after I drive you a little bit crazy.” When she opened her mouth wide and sucked him right to the back of her throat, he fisted the sheets.
“Jesus. A little bit?”
She reveled in the handsome, rugged man unraveling at the suction of her mouth and the pull of her lips. She bobbed down and then back up. As she lowered her head again, he dropped his hand to her nape and pushed her all the way down. With one hand wrapped around his base, she was able to control how deep she took him into her mouth, but she pressed farther, wanting to give him something to remember.
“Ffffuck.” He shuddered, thighs stiff and bulging with muscle.
Flipping her tongue around his shaft like she was licking an ice cream cone, she made her way back to the tip and moaned as his salty-sweet juice hit her tongue.
He cracked an eye at her as she lapped at his slit.
“Enough. You’re killin’ me, woman.” He wrapped her hair around his fist and guided her back up. The sting on her scalp only heightened her arousal. She leaned off the side of the mattress and grabbed a condom from her nightstand drawer.
He cocked a brow at her. “I don’t know if it’s sexy as hell that you’re prepared or I’m jealous.”
She only smiled sweetly. Straddling his thighs, she worked the rubber down his veined shaft, throwing him coy looks as she did.
“You know exactly what you’re fucking doing to me,” he ground out.
She caught her lip in her teeth again and released it. “Maybe.”
He grabbed her ass and shoved her over his erection. Oh God, this man had enough sex appeal to make a woman explode. She didn’t want to thrust up and down like a wanton, but if this was the last moment she ever had with Ben, she was damn well getting her money’s worth.
Cupping her ass cheeks, spreading them slightly, he guided her down a little more. They shared a noise of ecstasy, but he was watching her too closely. What was he up to?
When he parted her cheeks farther and skimmed a forefinger over her netherhole, she sucked in a gasp. Liquid heat dumped into her core. Holy hell… She tested a movement, causing his fingertip to skim her most private region.
She gasped. Nobody had ever touched her there, but it was soooo good. Of course it would be Ben to open those doors to her. A man she couldn’t have or couldn’t keep.
He slid his finger along the outer ring of her pucker, and a throaty noise broke from her.
Her gaze flew to his and their eyes locked. She sank another fraction down his cock, and he caressed her unexplored pucker again, a light tease of his fingertip that was doing unspeakable things to her insides.
Quivering now, she waited for his next move. Would he try to break through her barriers and slide his finger into her ass? Did she want him to?
Yes, she did.
She pushed backward and managed to slip down his erection more.
“Hell,” he grated out and pressed on her netherhole. His fingertip sank inside her, and pleasure rushed up. She couldn’t stop herself from moving—had to or die.
She slammed over him, and fuck—the man was good, all right. He sank his finger all the way inside.
The burning pleasure washed over her, and she barely had a second to adjust before he rocked his hips and withdrew his finger simultaneously.
Ben was one dirty lover, and damn she wanted more. She moaned and hung there over him, unable to for a coherent thought around the insane pleasure coursing through her system.
Realizing she was boneless, he took control, moving his hips up and down, his cock stretching and filling her to the fullest capacity even as his finger had breached new territory.
“God, you’re so responsive. I should have known. Dammit, Dahlia.” He spoke as if her being responsive annoyed him, but right this second she couldn’t care less—she only wanted to reach that invisible summit he was pushing her toward.
He fucked his finger in and out in time to his thrusts, and suddenly it wasn’t enough. She needed to move too.
Using her thigh muscles, she rocked up and down on his muscled hips, taking him all the way and forcing his finger right where she wanted it—deep.
“Has anybody ever fucked you here before?” His gaze trained on her face, sweat beading his forehead.
She shook her head, sending her hair flying around them. “Never.”
“A virgin. Dammit to hell.” He moved his finger, stretching her to the point of no return. A deep thrum had taken up residence inside her, and she could feel a brand-new flutter she’d never experienced before.
“That’s it. Clamp down on me. Fuck, you feel so good.”
Need pulsated through her, making her hot, cold, tingly, numb. She had no idea where her body was going with this, but it was like being on a speeding train with no tracks in sight or straddling a runaway horse. Either way, she was crashing at the end, and she had a feeling she’d never be the same after this experience.
Her throaty cries grew louder, harsher. He moaned in response, and soon the room echoed with their noises of pleasure. He stiffened, jerking his hips faster. His fingertip was hitting that spot even as his cock hit another erogenous zone.
There was no going back, but suddenly panic hit her.
“Ben?” The confusion of what was about to happen to her made his name come out as a question.
“I got you, honey. Just let go.”
She looked into his eyes, being pushed over a cliff into the unknown. Her entire body racked with orgasm, her insides clenching and releasing wildly, her juices drenching them both. He continued to thrust upward and used his finger on her backside, stealing all breath, all thought.
She screamed, and he locked an arm around her, yanking her down for his kiss as his own release hit. Her mind locked to his warmth, the feel of his strength grounding her. The need pulsing through her body didn’t die down even a little bit as he found her mouth and took control of a kiss.
A raucous final cry rushed up her throat and shivers gripped her. He slowed his pace, withdrew his finger. She collapsed to the side and he pulled her into his arms, tucking her head beneath his chin. After a moment or two she drifted and felt him get up to use the bathroom. By the time he returned and pulled her tightly against his chest, she knew she was half in love.
No, not love. Lust. Nobody fell in love with a man after two screws, even if he was a master with his fingers and cock.
She’d like to put his tongue to the test. That shower in the morning was looking more and more exciting.
The smooth swaths of his palm on her back made her relax and drift. Her long day was catching up to her, but more so she found he’d fucked the energy right out of her. Under her ear, his heart thudded, strong and true.
“Dahlia.” His low voice penetrated her sexual haze.
“Hmm?”
“I’m glad you were in that club tonight.”
“Me too.”
He drew her closer, his breath warm against her skin. Odd how comfortable she felt sleeping against this man, a virtual stranger. Surely that was odd…
Hours later, she woke to daylight streaming over her bed—her empty bed. She pushed to her elbows, straining to hear the shower or her lover banging around the kitchen to fix coffee. But the apartment was silent, Ben was nowhere around and there was a note on her nightstand.
With a groan, she jerked into a sitting position and snatched up the note.
Dahlia,
I’m sorry I went back on my word and couldn’t stay till morning. I’ve had someone collect your car and you’ll find it parked out front. Next time we meet at the club, I promise to clear my schedule.
B-
She crumpled the note in her fist. “Son of a bitch. That’s two strikes, Ben. And you don’t get a third.” Too bad her body was already latched onto the idea of a next time and the man’s yummy scent clung to her and her sheets.
* * * * *
“Whose car was that anyway?” Sean’s question didn’t even warrant a response from Ben. He was too involved in keeping watch through his binoculars. The wet sand clung to his black clothes and dampness seeped in, making him even more pissed off that he’d been dragged from Dahlia’s bed and into this mission.
Sean elbowed him. “The car?”
He grunted. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you? It’s a friend’s. Thanks for picking it up for me.”
“It was fun. I haven’t hotwired anything in years.”
“Knew you’d enjoy yourself.” He paused. “Give the signal. I see it.”
Sean scooted closer in the divot they’d dug in the sandy beach to conceal themselves. “You have eyes on the craft?”
“I see a light and it’s growing closer.” His words were soft but deadly. When he’d received the urgent call that he was to meet his brothers to intercept a vessel rumored to be carrying enough cocaine to give all of the French Quarter a buzz for days, he’d been pissed. Climbing out of Dahlia’s bed, leaving her sleeping so peacefully, her dark hair streaming over her creamy skin… Hell, she’d probably never let him in her bed again.
Who could blame her?
Why the hell the DEA wasn’t handling the drug trafficking case was his first question put to Colonel Jackson. Apparently, in addition to the drugs, a known hunted terrorist was also among the cargo. That had gotten Ben scrambling pretty quick.
Sean gave the signal, a flash of a mirror that the rest of the Knight Ops team could detect but was in the opposite direction of the incoming craft.
“Tell our team to sit tight. The light’s coming nearer.” Ben barely breathed out the message.
Two flicks of Sean’s mirror had them on the ready. Their operative—to let the drug runners reach the shore and use darkness on their side. They were trained for stealth and boarding that watercraft wouldn’t be any difficult matter. Though they had no clue who may be guarding the criminal trying to slip into the country, Ben was confident that his men could stop anything that came their way.
The best possible outcome was that everything went peaceably, with no gunfire exchanged and no boat explosions.
Though blowing shit up sounded right up his alley at the moment. The fuckers had yanked him from Dahlia’s bed, dammit, and she was never going to understand because he couldn’t explain it to her.
A metallic click sounded, and he and Sean scrambled, twisting in the sand, training their sights on the man moving through the darkness like nothing more than a shadow.
“Easy, Knight Ops. Rocko reporting for duty.”
“Jesus Christ, Rocko. About time you joined us, but you have piss-poor timing.” Ben lowered his weapon and grabbed his binoculars again as the sixth man of their team who’d missed out on all the fun of the compound raid landed in the sand next to them.
“Sorry I’m late, Captain.”
“You’ll make it up to me, don’t worry,” Ben grated out, low. He scanned the water, right, left, right, left, and couldn’t see the goddamn boat. “Dammit, it’s disappeared.”
“Probably spotted a man on shore and booked it out of here,” Sean added.
“Bullshit. No one saw me,” Rocko scoffed, amusement in his tone. “He’s still out there, just circling. It’s what illegals do when approaching shores. Take it from a SEAL.” He pulled out his own binoculars and trained them on the inky black water, the small waves stronger with the night winds.
Each time Rocko shifted, his shoulder rubbed against Ben’s. “This is one hell of a way to meet our sixth team member. I don’t even know you and we’re already cuddling.”
Ignoring him, a heartbeat of silence passed and then Rocko said, “I got eyes on it.” He gave a hand signal that the boat was two hundred yards to the left offshore. “We’re in the wrong position.”
“We’ve got it covered. Rocko and Thunder, you keep the lookout and wait for my command.” Ben belly-crawled away for a few yards before getting into a crouch and rushing through the darkness to meet up with the other half of his team.
Behind him, he heard Rocko say to Sean, “Thunder? That you?”
Ben gave a mental shake of his head. He was going to have to bring this kid up to speed on their team. He didn’t even know the nicknames of his fellow members, and there was no excuse for not doing his homework. Rocko should know everything from what each Knight brother ate for breakfast down to his ammo of choice, and he had damn well better know the names and appearance of every terrorist on the planet too.
Ben waded into the water, moving in a way that would reduce waves and keep them from lapping against the boat where his men waited.
“Thunder?” Dylan whispered.
“Nope. He’s back with that squid.”
“Squid? Rocko showed up?” Dylan moved aside as Ben pulled himself silently up and into the boat. Water streamed off him, and he looked to the shore for his team’s signal.
Nothing came. He had a second to explain.
“He apologized for being delayed and said he’d make it up to me.”
“Good thing. The Knight Mobile needs cleaned.”
A huff of a laugh came from Chaz, who’d most likely caused most of the mess in the SUV with food wrappers and empty energy drink cans.
Ben swung his gaze between the water and the sand. “Nothing yet,” he said quietly.
“We have time for the story then,” Roades said.
Ben looked at him. The moon was nonexistent tonight, a perfect night for a delivery of goods on US soil. But it meant his youngest brother couldn’t see his glare.
“No story tonight.”
“Aw, c’mon, Ma. Just one?” Roades always was a whiner at bedtime, but since he was the youngest, he’d often gotten their maman to read one more story.
“Nothing to tell.” Ben knew what they were after.
“When we’re instructed to stop at a club, hotwire a woman’s car and drive it to an unknown locale, then it’s a story. Who is she?” Roades pushed.
“None of your fucking business. Now where— Fuck!”
They all went on high alert, scanning both water and sand. Ben twitched two fingers in the direction of the van rolling across the sand, dangerously close to where Sean and Rocko lay.
“Transport’s here,” Ben said. “Hope to hell this doesn’t go sideways.”
Dylan’s teeth flashed white with his self-assured smile. “Not fucking likely, bro.”
“Time to move.” Ben slipped back overboard, along with Dylan. Leaving two on the sand, two at sea and them in the middle, covering all angles. As the boat drifted into sight, the doors of the van opened and closed. But through the darkness, Ben couldn’t see a single man leave the vehicle.
Because they were already on the ground, gagged and bound, if Sean and Rocko had done their jobs properly.
A quiet call came from the approaching craft, followed by a splash as a man dropped overboard. Ben raised an arm, a reflector in his hand giving his men the signal. Chaz and Roades started the engine and shouts sounded from the drug runners. But it was too late, because he and Dylan had reached the craft and Rocko joined up with them while Sean guarded the prisoners.
In minutes, Knight Ops had five men trussed up like pigs for Sunday dinner on the beach and half a mil in cocaine seized. Not to mention an overlord of terrorism who could have let dozens more just like him into the country in custody.
“Here comes the DEA now.” Chaz flicked his head toward the vans with DEA painted in white letters on the sides.
“Hm, what gives you the impression it’s the DEA?” Ben drawled. Maybe if they could pass these criminals off to their counterparts quickly, he could hurry back to Dahlia and slip into her bed before dawn.
He looked at the horizon. Fat chance. A pale band of light appeared between sky and sea. He compressed his lips.
“You in charge here?” A woman in slim cargo pants and a dark jacket stormed across the sand to Ben.
“Uh, I am,” Chaz tried to lure her away as usual.
She threw him a look that could shrivel any man’s balls, but Knights were made of tougher stuff and Chaz just chuckled.
Ben jerked his jaw upward. “That’s me. Let’s make this quick. I’ve got someplace to be.”
“I need to know who authorized you.”
“Well, if I tell you that, I’d have to kill you.” Ben wasn’t putting up with some harpy on a power trip. A deep ache to feel Dahlia in his arms again had taken up residence in his core.
“You military types are so funny,” the DEA woman said with a tinkle of a laugh that had Chaz’s head whipping. She gestured to the men lying like sardines on the beach along with a few crates of cocaine. The rest of the drugs was still in the hull of their vessel. “Load everyone and everything into the vans while I deal with this matter,” she ordered her men. She turned back to Ben.
“Look, lady, I don’t answer to you. You know who sent us and why.”
Ben didn’t have much time, and he still had to debrief and unload this terrorist onto his superiors. He sighed. More hours of bullshit talk and forms filled out. More hours spent away from Dahlia, if he returned to her at all.
“Sean, make the call so we can get this show on the road.” He raised a hand and his men fell in around him. They started away with the terrorist in tow. Over his shoulder, he said to the DEA agent in charge, “By the way, that’s your boat we borrowed to do our jobs. Hope you don’t mind loading it back onto the trailer. Thanks.”
For the next hour and long into the morning, the guys joked about how Ben had ticked off that woman, but he could only think about the dark-haired beauty he’d left behind and whether or not he’d ever get another chance with her.