Chapter Eight

Rule for success number eight:

Steady your reactions.

AFTER sleeping better than expected, Heath was surprised to wake feeling restless. He untied his ankle from Jolie’s, rose, and made coffee. Barely five a.m. Normally, if he felt this agitated, he hit the gym or went for a run. He couldn’t leave her side now.

But with Jolie still sleeping peacefully, that left him alone with his thoughts.

Briefly, he thought about calling Mystery. She would talk to him. And she knew him, after all.

Well . . . did she really? He frowned. Perhaps it was more accurate to say he knew her. He’d made it his job to learn Mystery’s every habit, quirk, and thought. But he’d never opened up to her. Since she’d gone from his day-to-day life, he realized he hadn’t been in love with her as much as she had been a comforting fixture. She was smart, had a fun sense of humor. His life with her had approached something like normal. Knowing at the end of every day that he’d kept her safe to see another sunrise had given him satisfaction. After the past few days, he saw clearly that caring about her wasn’t the same as the twisting, burning, ever-present ache to claim, comfort, and understand that Jolie made him feel.

Maybe that’s why he’d awakened so agitated. Sleep hadn’t changed his outlook. She was still the fever he couldn’t shake.

Heath grabbed his phone from his pocket and turned it over in his hands. He’d heard a rumor a few weeks back that Myles, his best mate from his MI5 days, had remarried and was expecting a baby again. Good news for him. Great, in fact.

Heath thought back through the last half dozen years of random shags, the avoidance of letting anyone too close. How had Myles managed to work past the grief and guilt to let go of the tragedy and embrace the future again?

Once, he and Myles had done everything together—worked, caroused, drank. Eventually, they’d both gotten married. Anna and Myles’s wife Lucy had got on right away and become the best of friends. Then one day they’d both been gone in the same senseless act of violence, leaving him and his mate struggling with grief and guilt. Heath hadn’t called Myles much after they’d become widowed. The man reminded him too much of all he’d lost. Myles hadn’t called a lot, either. Heath assumed that, like him, he hadn’t been able to handle the memories.

In addition to losing his wife that day, Heath had lost his one real friend.

A couple of weeks after Anna’s death, he’d quit his job and made it his mission to extract revenge. He had been successful . . . somewhat, learning the name of the thug who’d pulled the trigger, ending Anna’s and Lucy’s lives, along with the baby she and Myles had been expecting. The baby Anna had been so envious of. But their killer had been nothing more than a hired gun with a few low-level accomplices, willing to snuff out virtually anyone for a price. They’d been puppets before he had easily wasted them. To this day, Heath had no notion who’d been pulling their strings.

Revenge had solved nothing, and afterward he’d had nothing left but to sink into the bottom of a bottle. Thankfully, a connection at MI5 had recommended him to Marshall Mullins as a potential bodyguard for Mystery. The job had probably saved his life.

Heath glanced at his phone again, then punched in the security code and flipped through his contacts. Though he’d upgraded devices more than once through various versions and countries, he’d never quite been able to let go of Myles’s number. It remained one of his few links to the past. He hadn’t dialed it in at least a half dozen years, had scarcely thought at all about calling in nearly five.

Now he considered it—hard.

It wasn’t yet noon in London. Myles would be up and working. Rumor had it his old friend had a managerial role now. Oh, that was supposed to be classified but Heath heard whispers from time to time. Myles had been shot a couple years ago. He’d also turned forty a few months back. With his new wife pregnant, it made sense for the man to slow it down, play it safe.

Myles had likely changed his number in the ensuing years. If not, what were the odds his old partner and friend would even answer? Would he want to hear from the ghost of his past or stop his life to listen to an old mate’s current woes?

“Heath?” Jolie stood in the opening of the hallway, wrapping a fuzzy bathrobe around her middle. Her hair looked adorably mussed. Concern wrinkled her brow.

He wanted to grab her, hold her, take her back to bed. Forget the world.

Instead, he stood and pocketed his phone again. “Morning.” Calling Myles after all these years would only stir up the past. Dealing with the present was all he could handle now. “Coffee?”

“Sure. I’ll need a tub of it today. I’d like to get into the office early and go over my pitch a few more times.”

He nodded. “I installed as much of the security equipment as I could by myself yesterday. I’d like to finish the rest today. We should get moving.”

“I’ll wake my sister. I hate to. When I peeked at her, she was sleeping so soundly.”

He sent her an apologetic expression. “We can’t leave her alone just yet. She’ll have opportunities to sleep in once I’ve assigned her a bodyguard. I’ll get that done today as well.”

Jolie woke Karis, and soon they were on their way to the office. Once there, Heath sat in a makeshift cubicle, testing the last of the card readers. To get everything operational by close of business today, he needed help, especially setting up the files that would log all the swiped activities, as well as enabling a redundant backup storage system for the data. He texted Sean Mackenzie. Moments later, his phone dinged with a reply. The former fed was stopping by with solutions to several of his issues. Heath sent back his thanks.

Callie’s husband appeared at the suite’s door about two hours later. Beside him stood another man. Blond and obviously military at some point, he looked watchful, war-hardened, and itching for action. Heath very much feared the bloke had come to the right place.

“Heath, this is Cutter Bryant,” Sean introduced. “He works for Joaquin and the Edgington brothers. He has an assignment starting in Dallas a week from Monday, so they’ve lent him to us until then, if that’s agreeable. It gives you a bit of time to find Karis someone more permanently, if necessary.”

He held out his hand. “Hello.”

Cutter shook it politely enough but clearly he wanted to get down to business. “What’s up?”

“A dodgy situation I suspect could quickly turn dangerous.”

When Cutter smiled, it wasn’t happy or polite. “Excellent.”

Heath liked him instantly. “Why don’t I introduce you to Karis? She’s . . .” How did he explain the sweet, slightly bohemian girl? “She’s got a soft heart and she’s trying to put on a brave face but I think she’s scared.”

“Roger that. I’ll try not to raise my voice above a dull roar or startle her unless necessary.”

“Great.” Sean smiled. “Jack Cole is lending Stone to you for the tech help. He should be here in a few hours.” He withdrew his keys. “I’m joining Callie and Thorpe for a late lunch since her contractions have stopped for now. Let me know if there’s a change of plans or you need something else.” When he turned to leave, Sean paused. “By the way, the license plate you asked me to run? That car came back as stolen. It’s been recovered and local CSI swept it. Clean.”

So a dead end. Damn. “Thanks for trying.”

“Always. I asked Thorpe to put in a call. He knows people at city hall. They’re going to look into the street cameras in that area, see if they picked up a face. We should have an answer in a few days. I’ll let you know.”

An excellent suggestion. Heath hoped that nothing dangerous happened while they waited.

With a handshake, Sean left. Heath turned to Cutter and sized the man up. In a perfect situation, finding Karis additional security wouldn’t be necessary. But everything now was far from ideal. Jolie would be lost if something happened to her sister. Heath would never be more than her temporary lover, but while they were together, he intended to keep her as safe and happy as he could. The world would be a less interesting place if grief dimmed Jolie Quinn’s light.

And wasn’t he sounding like a philosophical shit?

“Come with me.” He led Cutter down the hall to a conference room and shut the door.

Heath filled him in on everything happening around Betti. He’d hoped that applying a fresh head to the situation would help him find new perspective but Cutter seemed as perplexed as he was.

“Why send gifts to Karis if Jolie is the target? If she’s actually the target at all . . .” The guy scowled.

“Precisely. Nothing quite adds up. I would be less worried if these three incidents hadn’t taken place so closely together and if the intruder hadn’t been firing real bullets.”

“What’s next?”

“See if the police found any evidence, I suppose. The prowler wore gloves, so I doubt he left behind prints. If the official investigation is fruitless, I fear I’m in a position of waiting for something else to happen that will perhaps provide more clues. Both sisters swear they don’t have any enemies. I’m not even certain what this man wants, so I haven’t the faintest notion where to look next. Or even what to look for.”

Cutter swore. “I’ve got nearly ten days to lend a hand. Hopefully, this situation comes to a head before then.”

“Would you like to meet Karis now?”

“Let’s do it.”

Heath had a feeling the two would be like oil and water. Cutter seemed like the decisive sort, a man of action and few words. Karis fluttered her way through life, seeking out happiness like a moth searching for a flame.

Before they could make their way out of the conference room, Cutter’s phone rang in a high-pitched chirp. “One minute. This might be an emergency.”

Heath nodded as Cutter ripped the phone from the holder clipped to his belt, then turned away for some privacy. “Brea? What is it?”

A pause. A faint murmur of a voice on the other end sounded rushed and panicked.

“Slow down. It’s okay. What’s going on?”

Whatever she said made Cutter’s entire body tense. A forbidding thunder suddenly rolled off him. “Have you seen a doctor?”

Heath went on high alert himself. Not that he tried to eavesdrop, but in a small room, he couldn’t fail to hear. The snippets he caught made him worry for the woman on the other end of the phone.

“You need to make an appointment today. It’s not going to go away.”

Now Heath could hear the teary, pleading tone on the other end and frowned.

“You need to see the doctor first. I’ll go with you. I promise not to do anything until then. After that, if you’re right—” She interrupted him, and he shook his head. “No. I can’t promise I won’t kill him.”

More sobs sounded over the line.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Cutter’s voice took a gentle turn. “We’ll figure it out. I’ll take care of you. I always have. I always will.”

A minute later, they hung up and Cutter shoved his phone back into its clip, grinding his teeth together as if his promise of temporary non-violence had used up a serious amount of restraint.

“It’s none of my business, but was that your wife? If so, you should know that Karis is in love with the idea of love and may make a pass at you.”

Cutter sent him a WTF glance. “No. Brea is my best friend. We’ve never . . . It’s not like that.”

Heath wondered if Cutter truly meant that or if he was deluding himself. “Is she ill?”

He hesitated, sighed. “A couple of months back, I got in a hostage standoff. I managed to get the captive released but I had no way out myself. I was outmanned and outgunned. The situation required the help of a world-class sniper. Brea and I know one, a complete asshole of the first order. He likes to be called One-Mile as a nod to his longest kill shot. She asked him to get me out of the bind. He agreed to do it . . . for a price.”

Shock jolted Heath. “The bastard coerced her into sleeping with him in order to save you?”

“Yeah.” He sighed long and heavy. “And now she thinks she’s pregnant. I work with the asshole every single day. I can’t wait to kill him.”

“That option puts you in jail, mind you. Perhaps you could make him own up to his responsibility?”

“Oh, he’d marry Brea tomorrow. But the fucker isn’t good enough for her. Lowlife scum-sucking asswipe. He’d make her absolutely miserable. I’ll take care of her. Pierce Walker won’t ever touch her again.” Cutter seemed to shake himself from his anger. “But that’s another problem for later. Sorry. Let’s get back on track so I can figure out how best to keep Karis protected.”

“Very good.” Heath led the other man down the hall, in search of Jolie’s sister.

Instead, he found Arthur standing in the girl’s cubicle looking slightly flustered. “Have you seen Karis?”

As far as he knew, the sisters had planned to run through the investor pitch together. “No. I escorted her and her sister to work this morning. Maybe they’ve gone to her office.”

With long strides, he made his way to the reception area at the front, Arthur and Cutter following. Jolie’s office sat empty, her computer dark.

If the sisters weren’t in her office, where the hell had they gone? Heath frowned, his senses sharpening.

Arthur scratched his head. “That’s weird. I saw Karis thirty minutes ago. I heard Jolie in her office, on the phone. I wonder where they went.”

And whether they’d gone voluntarily. Last night, Jolie had promised not to leave him. She might be many things—driven, stubborn, headstrong—but she was a woman of her word.

Fear nicked Heath’s composure.

Damn it, he hadn’t yet finished installing the last bit of the security system, so he didn’t know the door through which she might have gone, in which direction to begin the search.

Taking a breath and fighting for calm, he peeked through the suite’s windows and into the lot. Karis’s little car still squatted next to her sister’s. If they’d gone, who had driven them away? Jolie hadn’t mentioned an appointment off-site. He would have insisted on going.

Yanking his phone from his pocket, he launched the app he’d secretly installed to trace her mobile, only to realize moments later it was somewhere in the building. He sent a text. The device dinged not two feet from him.

She was not where she should be and had no way to contact him if someone tried to hurt her.

Fear began to chill into panic.

Visions of her body limp and lifeless on a morgue table, waiting for identification, ran through his head. Heath had done that once already. He’d be damned if he ever endured that again.

“We’ve got to find them,” he barked at the men.

“Let’s fan out,” Cutter suggested.

“Check the break room on the east side of the office and bathrooms through the door to the south. I’ll hit the file room at the west.” He turned to Wisteria, who meandered to her desk just then. “Did Jolie and Karis leave?”

The blonde shrugged. “I don’t know. Jolie asked me to clean up the break room and organize the supply cabinet. I’ve been back there for the last hour.”

Heath held in a curse and forced himself to breathe. But his heart revved. Fear burned. “Keep looking, everyone.”

As Cutter darted away, Heath tore down the hall toward the back of the suite, a vision of life without Jolie assaulting his brain. He imagined her as prey of a killer, imagined standing over her remains sealed forever in a casket while people sang, the scent of too many flowers choking him as he wondered when everything had gone so fucking wrong. How he would cope without her?

Bloody hell. He was falling for her. And now he might lose her.

“Jolie . . .” he called. “Jolie!”

A moment later, the door to the file room opened and she poked her head out. “What?”

His relief in seeing her was a bleeding, palpable thing. His breath rushed out with a shudder. He tried to grab hold of himself, waited for calm to return.

Nothing. He still felt shaky and worried and overwrought.

“Is Karis with you?” Arthur asked behind him, sounding somewhere between concerned and confused.

The door opened wider, and her younger sister stepped out. “Yeah, I’m just helping Jolie with her pitch for tonight.”

“In here?” Heath demanded.

“You were in the conference room with that hot—” Karis stopped herself. “That other guy.”

“And my office phone kept ringing since Wisteria was busy in the break room and couldn’t answer.” Jolie frowned. “So we came in here and locked the door. Is that a problem?”

“It is when you don’t tell me and don’t take your phone with you.”

“We didn’t go far,” she argued.

“Um . . .” The accountant looked ruffled as he focused on Karis. “The invoices for the . . . ah, the photographer who took the website pictures? I’d like to go over them today.” He directed his attention to Jolie. “And I have a question for you, boss. Can you spare a minute?”

“No, she can’t.” Heath couldn’t wait another second to get to Jolie. He knew all too well that life could be short and he intended to seize this opportunity now. “She’s busy.” He marched toward her, pausing to peer at Karis. “You’re all right?”

She looked bewildered. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Excellent. Will you excuse us?”

Karis glanced between him and Jolie. Understanding lit her eyes. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Go easy on my sister. She’s really nervous about tonight and—”

Heath stepped into the little room and shut the door in her face. Then he locked it.

“What are you doing?” Jolie’s voice shook.

She must feel the tension pouring off him, couldn’t possibly miss his restraint hanging by a thread.

He dragged in a breath, then another. Every urge running through his head was foolish and mad and irresponsible.

Heath didn’t care anymore.

He took two long steps toward her and pulled her stiff body against him. “What I should have done last night.”

His lips crashed over hers. He was so far past worrying whether this was right or wrong, whether he should break his own rule or not. He only knew that holding Jolie felt perfect, and in that moment he needed her alive and warm and welcoming in his arms.

She met him halfway, opening to him instantly. He ate at her mouth as if he was both starved and half-crazed. She was there with him—every breath, every touch, every heartbeat. She pumped his veins full of need, fired his blood with warmth.

The last eighteen hours he hadn’t been inside her had felt like the worst sort of hell.

As Heath reached for her skirt and lifted the hem over her hips, he brushed his lips across the swells of her breasts. “Give me your knickers.”

“What?” Her voice shook, her expression puzzled. “No. Heath—”

“I thought you had disappeared. I thought . . .” He clenched his jaw tight and swallowed the words. “I thought the worst. I don’t want to think now. Take off your whatever you’re wearing under that skirt.”

Somewhere in the back of his head, Heath suspected she would balk because his kneejerk response was out of line. But he couldn’t stop it. To lose Jolie to violence—hell, to lose her at all—would do something to him. Heath didn’t want to consider what that meant.

He should slow down, scale back, but the blinding, primal urge to have her against him, around him, holding on to him, and crying out his name wouldn’t be banished.

“I’m here,” she assured, not moving to do his bidding. “I’m fine. But I can’t have sex with you now, in my place of business.” She frowned. “You can’t have sex with me again, either, remember?”

He no longer cared about his no-repeat rule because he’d found a good reason to break it.

He bent to her ear, softly commanding, “I want your knickers, Jolie. Give them to me.”

“We’re supposed to be working,” she argued but now sounded breathy. “My sister and I—”

“Hand them over or I’ll take them. Unless you’re saying no. Say that, and I’ll stop.”

She swallowed, blinked, stared as if trying to figure him out. Maybe it was the barely leashed need pinging off his body. Maybe it was her own hunger.

He didn’t care when she bit her lip, then bent and removed her panties. Then she gave the silky scrap to him.

His fingers closed around the warm softness that had just graced her skin. “Thank you.”

He held the garment to his nose. Her breath caught as he inhaled her scent. Hmm . . .

Her nipples beaded under her white blouse. He wanted that—and her standard bra beneath—gone.

Heath shoved her lacy knickers in his pocket, then he brushed his knuckles over the curve of her breasts before settling his fingers at the top button of the filmy shirt. “Tell me you want this.”

She hesitated for a moment before she gave in. “I want it.”

That should make him happy, satisfy the requirement for consent. Instead, the words only made him ache more. “Tell me you want me.”

By god, if he was going to break his one rule for her, he was all but admitting—to her and himself—that she meant more than a fuck. That she was important.

Her breathing turned choppy. Jolie stared, searching his face. “Will you resent me later?”

She worried that he’d blame her for giving in and distance himself afterward. She feared he’d hurt her, just as Karis had said. “I think I’m way past that.”

A wariness he wanted gone gleamed from her eyes. “I’d be taking a chance.”

“You won’t regret it. I need to feel you.” That was bloody hard for him to admit.

Jolie hesitated, clearly grappling. “I still don’t want anything lasting. I’m not looking for love.”

She might believe that, but she was fooling herself. Still, Heath didn’t argue because he had to have her. “I understand. I want you here, now, mine in this moment. Can you give me that?”

“Yes.”

Heath didn’t think for a single instant that would be the end of the passion between them, not when it gripped him in the sort of chokehold he’d never experienced. He didn’t think he affected her any less. His head reeled with the possibilities and implications but the last thing he wanted to do now was pry the attraction apart and examine it.

“Is that a yes? You want me?” he demanded.

Her lips parted softly. “I don’t know how not to want you.”

That was all he needed to hear.

He began tearing into her blouse, unfastening one button after the other with ruthless efficiency, then pushing the pearly silk from her shoulders. Jolie shrugged it off the rest of the way, letting it skim down her arms, then onto the floor.

Her bra was built for efficiency, not seduction. Heath didn’t care what her lingerie looked like. She was still unbearably sexy to him. And that white cotton was in his way. “Bra off.”

“I don’t like it when you give me orders.”

Her breathless anticipation made her a liar. She loved it when he gave orders. It was only afterward, when they weren’t in a haze of passion, that the strong female in her had second thoughts. Jolie would soon learn he had no desire to strip her power, just her body.

“I promise to make it worth your while, love.”

Jolie flushed softly. Her lips parted. After a long moment, she reached behind her back and unhooked the garment. When she relaxed her shoulders, it fell away. Heath didn’t bother to watch the garment hit the floor. He was too busy staring, seeing her body soften, her nipples harden, her gaze cling to him as if he alone held the answers to her burning questions.

Her pale skin fascinated him. Over the years he’d had sex with women of nearly every race, color, and creed. But Jolie wasn’t like any of them. The night they’d shared passion, he’d taken her repeatedly in the dark, not really savoring the pristine, milky flesh.

Now wasn’t the time, he knew. The office wasn’t the place. But if he was going to break his no-repeat rule once, he could do it again and again, until he satisfied his desire to consume every part of her.

Heath turned her toward the wall and lifted her businesslike skirt as his hungry gaze ate up her alabaster shoulders, the smooth expanse of her back that led to the gentle sway of her hips. He could grip them, tell her to spread her legs and brace her hands against the wall and scream at will. He’d done it hundreds of times with hundreds of faceless women.

But he couldn’t make himself speak those practiced words to Jolie. He’d fucked so many women standing up and from behind precisely because it was impersonal. He never had to look into a woman’s eyes and care what she was thinking during sex, never risk knowing her beyond a shared orgasm.

Taking Jolie like that would never satisfy him.

“Talk to me,” he skimmed his lips up her neck and murmured in her ear. “Tell me what you like, what you want.”

He ached to satisfy her in the way she wanted to be pleasured.

“Touch my nipples. Kiss me. Make this burning go away.”

A little smile tugged at his lips. The burning was never going to go away, he feared. But he didn’t mention that now. He merely gripped her hips and turned her to face him again. “In that order?”

“Yeah,” she challenged. “Hurry.”

Of course she’d have an assertive side when it came to sex. That was Jolie.

Caressing his way down her chest, he cupped the firm weight of one of her breasts in his palm, thumbing the nipple. Then he lowered his head and swallowed the sweet sound of her gasp before he delved deeper and possessed her lips utterly.

Sweet honey surrender. He savored her texture as she opened to him, tasted her tongue. The pleasure was like a riptide, pulling him under until he didn’t care that he was drowning.

Jolie threw her arms around his neck and jumped into the kiss with a passion that had his body tightening, his cock hardening, his head reeling.

He pinched her nipples, worked them, dragged his knuckles over them, then started the cycle again. They stiffened. She whimpered, digging her nails into him, sharp even through his T-shirt. He reveled in the fact that he could seemingly get under this amazing woman’s skin and make her stop thinking long enough to feel.

“Heath.” She pulled away with a gasp, reaching for his all-too-eager shaft.

Once she touched him, he’d be inside her in less than three seconds. He wasn’t ready for that yet. Jolie didn’t know it, but neither was she.

Swallowing a curse, he lifted her onto the nearest flat surface—a forgotten desk—and shoved her skirt around her hips. Jolie didn’t play coy; she knew what he liked. She laid back and spread her sleek thighs.

He found himself staring at her dark curls and feminine pink flesh.

Desire seared him as he bent his head and inhaled her scent with a groan.

Everything about her dazzled and thrilled him. Other people would argue that she wasn’t perfect. She could be every bit as aggressive as any of her male counterparts. She had a temper, a ruthless streak, a desire to control everything. Yet she cared, she listened, and she was often honest even when it hurt her. She had a heady sort of feminine lure Heath had never experienced.

Gripping her thighs, he sank between them, braced over her as he pierced her folds with his tongue and raked his way up her wet slit. He lapped at her, focused on the little bud at the apex before he sucked it between his lips and drew it deep.

As he tasted her, his heart thrummed in his chest with a wild cant. Her flavor was so exquisitely sweet and tart and addicting as she melted around him. She responded artlessly, groaning as she threw her head back with a long, low wail.

Everything about her intoxicated him. He bloody loved this intimacy, the potent thrill of owning her. Vaguely, he wondered how he’d resist wanting to taste her every time he saw her.

When she spread wider and gripped his head with grasping fingers, another hoarse cry fell from her lips. “Heath!”

The rest of the office could probably hear them, but he wasn’t about to quiet her or stop the glide of his tongue through her flesh. The urge to consume her utterly fired his blood.

He pulled her vulva apart with his thumbs to expose her, open her to him totally. Then he slid a pair of fingers into her opening, already swelling in pleasure. She clenched around him, clamping down tight as she bucked her hips in demand, disturbing the rhythm of his tongue. With his free hand, he held her down to the table.

“Stop thrashing. You can’t control this orgasm. It’s not for you to take. It’s mine to give you.”

“Then give it to me now.” Her voice sounded like something between a whimper and a demand.

Perhaps he should remind her that he was in charge in the bedroom, but that would require him to stop exploring her succulent heat with his mouth again and have a conversation in which she’d merely argue. Or try insisting again that he hurry this pleasure along.

Talking was overrated.

“Once you hold still, I will,” he murmured the silky vow across her skin. “If you do, I’ll fuck you with my fingers and my tongue. I’ll wring orgasms out of you until you’re deliciously sore and sated. I’ll work my cock inside your pussy, which I know will be snug and hot and perfect. I’ll ride you until you can’t scream anymore.”

Almost instantly, Jolie stilled. Her body trembled in anticipation. Her eyes pleaded in a way her words simply didn’t.

Heath smiled. Now he had her.

Gliding his fingers in and out of her tight walls, he lowered his mouth to her clit again, nudging, teasing, the slow drag making her breath shudder and her skin flush. Her fingers found their way to his head again as she tried to grip his too-short hair. Her nails dragged against his scalp with a little bite of pain that urged him on. He shuddered against the dizzying rise of need.

Around him, he could feel the swelling of her folds, the clenching of her cunt. She panted, made other sounds he barely recognized, welcomed him by opening even wider.

God, when had any woman ever been half so alluring?

Tasting a female was an intimacy he hadn’t indulged in for years. It required not only time, a bed, and some privacy, but it implied a deeper connection than mere fucking. It meant that a woman had to share every bit of her body in a way that left her vulnerable. Since Anna, he hadn’t sought anything but no-strings sex.

Jolie changed everything. Whatever the reason, whatever her lure, he couldn’t seem to get enough of her.

“Oh, love. You’re tangy and sweet on my tongue.” He twisted his fingers in her opening and found a sensitive spot, then rubbed it ruthlessly. “I’m going to want this again. I’m going to crave you. We’ll spend our lunches with my head between your legs. I’ll need you again with evening cocktails. And dessert.” He lapped at her again. “Especially dessert.”

“That’s too much, too c-crazy. Y-you can’t . . .”

Since she couldn’t speak without stuttering or losing her train of thought, Heath knew he could have her however he wanted her now. She would let him.

He smiled and dragged his tongue through her essence again. “Never tell me I can’t. I’ll prove you wrong. Over and over. You’re going to come, aren’t you?”

She whimpered and nodded frantically. “I . . . Oh, my god. I can’t stop it.”

“Let’s have it. I want it. I want all of you.”

“That’s it. Yes!” She dragged in a huge gulp of air. A glance up the beautiful curves of her body proved her nipples tight, her lips parted, her dilated green eyes focused on him and widening with every uptick in pleasure. Then sensual shock splashed across her delicate face. “Heath!”

Her entire body convulsed with the force of her ecstasy, legs shaking, hips bucking, back arching, lungs working.

He looked up her body. She was positively stunning, and Heath only wanted her more as he ate at her like a starving man. He was determined to guide her into the sugary haze of aftermath so she’d be damn pliant when he impaled her and fucked her with abandon.

Jolie tried to close her legs, as if she’d suddenly decided to be embarrassed that she’d climaxed nearly hard enough to shake the walls. Heath refused to allow her that misplaced modesty now. He pushed against her tensed thighs and continued to lick, suck, and nibble, groaning when she somehow turned sweeter, diving in deeper when she softened and became accepting beneath him again. Ravenous when her breath became uneven and the little moans filled his ears. Harder than hell when she swelled with need once more and he realized just how bloody tight she would be.

Jerking away, he stood and fumbled through his pockets until he found a foil square—the last he had tucked away.

Fuck, he hoped once was enough to satisfy this craving. Since he was with Jolie, he had his doubts.

His movements were a blur and he blocked out her whimpering protests until he’d sheathed his cock and held himself at her opening. Then he shoved his way in with one savage thrust.

Jolie twisted her back and cried out in an impatient roar. “Yes . . . Fuck me.”

Oh, he would do far more than that. And if she wasn’t ready to admit that whatever they had went beyond mere sex, that was all right. He’d only just realized it himself. Being with her again, inside her, was undeniable proof. The rightness of her lit up his body, rolled down his spine in an electric shudder. He suspected Jolie also knew what they shared wasn’t meaningless. But he’d be patient . . . for now.

Leaning over her, he balanced his forehead on hers. She exhaled against his lips, then she breathed in. Heath kissed her, letting her taste the passion he’d wrung from her. She didn’t fight, so he grabbed her hair, changed the angle of the kiss to dive deep, and pressed his hips forward until she took every last inch of his cock.

He didn’t move his body then, just filled her mouth, her pussy, her senses. It wasn’t long before she wrapped her legs around his middle and arched restlessly, as if she needed everything he could give her.

He lifted his lips, narrowed his eyes at her. “You keep trying to control the way I fuck you, Jolie. Stop. It won’t happen.”

“Why are you teasing me? What are you waiting for?”

“Didn’t you learn anything when I had my mouth on you? Didn’t it feel better when you finally let me send you to climax? It wouldn’t have been half so good if you’d taken it when you wanted it.”

Jolie stared at him as if understanding that he had answers to questions she’d never thought to ask. “I know. But we shouldn’t be doing this. I have work.”

When she gave him a half-hearted push, he held her still. The last thing Jolie needed was for her brain to work overtime, for her anxiety to notch up before tonight’s crucial dinner. Best if he drowned her in bliss, sated and relaxed her. Even better if he somehow helped her realize this crazy spark between them probably wasn’t going to fizzle out.

Heath wrapped his fingers around the edge of the table above her head and gripped tight, using the leverage to pull himself deeper into her body, reveling in her gasp. “Enjoying the pleasure, love? How does that feel?”

She didn’t admit aloud that he was turning her inside out . . . but she stopped arguing. Instead, she let him have his way, meeting him thrust for thrust as he pulled back to the sensitive head of his cock, only to drive in once more, ensuring that he hit every tender spot along the way. He ground his pelvis against hers at the top of the stroke, giving her awakened clit a press-rub that sparked more need.

Jolie cried out again. She was so damn responsive, fit him so perfectly. And once they passed the negotiations of the will-we-or-won’t-we stage, she always gave him her total attention, complete arousal, and whole body.

In that moment, it wasn’t enough. He wanted her soul. No, that wasn’t all. He fucking wanted her heart. Her devotion. Her tomorrows.

That should have alarmed the hell out of him. At the moment all he could think about was how explosive the orgasm between them was going to be and how tightly he intended to hold her afterward.

“Take everything I’m giving you, Jolie. Every kiss . . .” He dragged his lips up her neck, then to her ear. “Every stroke, every inch. All my determination to make certain you crave me again and again.”

“I already do,” she admitted in a rush. “It’s never been like this, so intense, so addicting, so distracting.”

Drunk on triumph, Heath plunged inside her even harder.

She tightened on him again, and it drove him to new heights. Not just because the sensation shot down his cock like lightning or because the sheer force of his arousal felt like lava running through his veins. No. Somehow, they were connected deeper than their bodies.

Her arms tightened around him, fingers digging into his shoulders, around his spine as she dragged them lower—until she cupped his backside, rocking with him and urging him deeper with every thrust.

“Jolie,” he gasped. “Love . . .”

“Yes.” She nodded frantically. “Yes. Oh, hell. Yeeessss. Heath . . . Heath!”

Fire lit his blood, burned his flesh. He held her tighter as he felt her convulse around him then followed her into the white-hot ecstasy that blistered as much as it soothed. And as he plunged into her one last time, Jolie held tight to his hips and pulled him in even more, continuing to grind out her climax and proving what he already knew: She would give herself to the people in her life, the people she knew and trusted and cared about. But she would also never be a passive partner who laid back and allowed things to happen to her. Jolie was a take-charge woman.

Suddenly, despite his years with Anna and his attraction to girls who might never manage anything more ambitious than a grocery list, Heath couldn’t imagine sex—or life—with a woman who didn’t have her own agenda, goals, and demands. In short, he couldn’t imagine life without Jolie.