Chapter 13

AT TWO IN the morning, mist and fog dimmed the view outside the Prospect Hotel. Matt could pick out nobody loitering nearby. A light rain fell on the street nearly deserted street. A figure huddled in a slicker hurried past the entrance. An occasional car or delivery truck passed. That was all. Even squinting, he couldn’t penetrate the shadows on the other side. An apt metaphor. He couldn’t see through the shadows inside himself or ahead either.

Instead of keeping watch and worrying, he should try to get some sleep. He’d need to be alert when they left the hotel. At least he’d finally figured out who might help them. Might being the key word.

A noise behind him jerked him around. His hand automatically went for his Glock, but of course it was in his pack. Nobody was in the room but them. He straightened, rolled his shoulders. There was the sound again.

It was Nadia. She whimpered and thrashed, tangled in the sheets. “No... no….” Then something unintelligible. She gasped, twisted as if to sit up, mumbled again.

She was okay. She’d wake up soon. Just a dream. Or should he go to her? He watched her for a few seconds. She continued to fret, in the throes of her nightmare. Leaving the curtains open, he crossed to her bedside in the semi-dark room. “Nadia?”

She rolled onto her back. Her long sleep shirt was all twisted, the v-neck askew, and the ambient light from the street highlighted a pale pink nipple. Heat spilled through him. He swallowed. The light glinted on her wet cheeks.

Tears. Dammit. For Sarika, her father, herself? Or vague weirdness, the aftermath of that horror show this morning? He sat on the bed. Reached out, pulled back his hand. Shit. She was still thrashing, nearly sobbing. He couldn’t let this continue.

He took a deep breath and placed both hands on her quaking shoulders. “Nadia, wake up. Nadia, it’s Matt.”

A pained gasp escaped her as her green eyes opened and she jerked upright. “Wha—”

“Easy, easy. It’s just me. You were having a nightmare. You’re okay.” He didn’t want to scare her further, so he let his hands fall away.

“Oh, it was awful.” She flung her arms around his neck and held on for dear life. “Flames and smoke all around. I could see Sari… and my dad, but the flames….” She sobbed against his shoulder.

He wrapped his arms around her slender, quaking body and breathed her in, the scent of her hair, her skin, sweet and spicy, like her. Her breasts were pressed against his bare chest. His dick exulted into action, and he willed the growing arousal to subside. She was frightened and heartbroken, and for a while he could handle just holding her.

Her head lifted, and her beautiful liquid eyes met his. She kissed him. And kissed him. He couldn’t ignore the feel of her lips, soft and plump. On autopilot, he tangled his tongue with hers and kissed her with a thoroughness that drove them both into a state of frenzy. A lightning bolt of need shot down his spine. Her slender fingers brushed his neck, teasing the hairs at his nape and making him shiver. He touched his mouth to her jaw, licked the softer skin on her neck. Damn, he wanted to lick every inch of her. Murmurs hummed from her throat. And his. She was as turned on as he was. The realization swelled him to an ache that headed toward desperate.

He could barely think through the haze, but he must. He had the hots for a woman who hated his guts a few days ago, who didn’t trust him, and who he was supposed to be spying on. Triple damn. She scooted closer, so close she had to feel the Louisville Slugger between his legs. He’d never forgotten her, had wanted this amazing woman for too long. So talented, so loyal, so beautiful. Maybe…

He eased her away a few inches, not ready to let go. If ever. Placed a hand on her uninjured cheek and tangled his fingers in the warm silk of her hair. “Nadia, honey, it’s just the nightmare. It’s not me you want.”

Her eyes flashed. Even in the semi-dark, he recognized that look. “Don’t you think I know what I want? I sure as hell know what you want.” She proved it by reaching between them and grasping him through the thin cotton of his boxers. Engorged with need, he jerked in her hand, groaned and sucked in a breath. “This isn’t about undying love, Matteo Leoni. It’s about tonight, a man and a woman and feeling alive. It’s about sex. Just sex. ”

He didn’t speak. Hell, he had no argument against her faultless logic. Really? She wanted this — him, no strings, no recriminations, no tomorrow? Wasn’t that all he wanted? Well, yeah, but why did hearing her say it bug him? And there was his mandate to spy on her. But everything had changed, hadn’t it? He had to think. Fuck, at this point, with her in his arms and his little brain in her soft, warm hand, he could barely think at all.

He saw her sag. Her lips thinned. Shit, now she thought he was turning her down. In a strained voice, he said, “Honey, if it’s just sex you want, I’m ready. More than ready. Hey, it’s never just sex, well, for me. I mean. I thought you wouldn’t trust me because of well, um, and I had to be sure. You know. Hell, I sound like an idiot.”

She chuckled. Thank God it wasn’t an all-out belly laugh. “You’re forgiven. For the dithering, I mean. Understandable under the circumstances. Can we pick up where we left off?”

Before sliding her hand away, for emphasis, or maybe seduction, she gave him another squeeze, and he went to granite. Five years ago, he’d made himself hold back. No more. They were in this together, and he needed this as much as she did. It might be their only chance to be together. “Let’s get you out of that shirt. I want to see more than one nipple.”

Her brows rose. She looked down at herself and laughed. “Let’s.” She shimmied around, tugging the shirt from beneath her and then up and off.

“Beautiful. Perfect.” As always, except now he could see more of her. Her breasts weren’t big, but a generous handful, sweet as he remembered. She was trim and fit but a wonder of curves. He bent and flicked his tongue over one nipple and then the other. Both peaked under his attentions.

And it was her turn to suck in a breath. “Matt.”

He kissed her again and scooted off the bed. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“You’re leaving me? Now?”

In an inner pocket of his pack he found what he needed. He returned to the bed, shucked his boxers and lay beside her. He wouldn’t push, would let her set the pace. But jeez, he ached to be inside her. Now.

She tossed back the covers and browsed his shoulders and chest and on downward to his straining dick, her gaze zapping nerve endings in its path. She nodded toward the handful of foil packets he’d dumped on the bedside table. “Ambitious, aren’t you?” Her husky voice betrayed her arousal.

“Honey, I’ve been waiting years to be horizontal with you. We might need more. I just hope I can hold out long enough to put one on.”

“Oh, I do like a challenge.” She hiked one sexy leg over his hip. The little circles she licked over his nipples made him groan. Her scent spiced with their mutual arousal teased his senses. One hand cruised over his shoulders and down his pecs. “You’ve been working out.” Her other hand floated downward past his bellybutton to the part of him that strained upward. She stroked the vein, circled the tip until she coaxed out a pearl of moisture, and then closed soft fingers around him.

He jerked in her hand. “Boredom. Desk duty,” he rasped out. His heart was racing. Enough talk. More action.

He covered her mouth with his, feeling the hot sweep of her tongue against his, intent and insistent. Pulling her closer, he slipped one hand between her legs — no panties to strip off, yes! — found the sensitive nub and gently massaged. She arched against him, her kiss hot and demanding, her sighs rising and falling. She was slick and wet, ready for him. Sweet. Liquid fire raced through his body, and he craved her with near pain. She was witty, smart, sexy and brave. No other woman had ever affected him so, tangling up what his body wanted with his mind, his emotions… no, he wasn’t going there.

He lay back and grabbed one of the packets. Struggled to rip it open with his teeth while keeping one hand on her smooth, soft skin.

“Here, let me.” She opened the foil and rolled the condom on him one agonizing millimeter at a time.

High-voltage flashes scorched him. “You trying to kill me, Nadia?”

She laughed and opened her arms. “La petite mort, the little death, as the French call a climax. Let’s find it together.”

Their mouths met as he entered her, and every muscle in his body tightened, every cell celebrated. He stroked in and out of her delicious heat — his, hers, he didn’t know — heat that burned his body from the inside out, heat he never wanted to leave, heat ripping up his spine in a wave and tightening his balls. He clenched his jaw. Dammit, he’d hold out, take them both all the way. And then she arched and cried out, her strong thighs clamping his hips as the pulsing took her, and he let his own release explode from him, sweeping him with such exhilaration he was left gasping for breath.

Long moments later, he rolled off her. After making use of a wad of tissues to clean up, he pulled up the covers and gathered her into his arms. “Go to sleep now. After that, no nightmares.”

“You promise? We might need another round to make sure.”

He smiled into the darkness. She was something. “Give me a few and I’ll be up for it.”

She walked her fingers down his belly and patted him. “How about now?”

Damned if he didn’t twitch to life beneath her touch.