Heart pounding and body buzzing with unquenched lust, Declan somehow got Suzanne into her car and buckled in without mauling her against the side of it. He’d practically had to drag her out of the restaurant, but she sat quietly as he settled into the driver’s seat and started for her place. She stayed quiet for a few minutes, so silent and still he thought she’d fallen asleep, but then she turned to him, as perky as ever and showing no signs that she’d nearly gotten him to try out the sex closet.
“I had fun today. Thank you.”
He glanced over at her, amused by the tipsy slur in her voice. “No need to thank me. I had fun too.” His cock twitched as if to complain about the lack of fun. Stupid bastard. He gestured to the bag of comic books. “You’ll have to let me know what you think.”
She cocked her head, and even through the drunken glaze in her eyes, he saw a glimmer of focus. “What made you a fan of comic books?”
The traffic light ahead turned yellow, so he hit the gas and got them through the intersection without stopping. Totally missed the red...and a ticket from the cop hanging out in a nearby parking lot.
“I’ve been reading them since I was a kid,” he said simply. “My mom wasn’t around much, and even when she was, she was so busy working her way up in society that I never saw her, so Batman and The Avengers kept me company.”
Wow, that had come off as crazy bitter, hadn’t it? Which was why he never talked about this shit, but once again, Suzanne was getting under his skin and getting him to open up.
Jules had tried to warn him.
“I’m sorry.” Suzanne reached over and rested her hand on his forearm, and he wanted to hate her pity, but strangely enough, he liked that she was trying to comfort him. When was the last time anyone had tried to make him feel better about anything?
When Gareth died.
His teammates had been there for him. They’d been there when he’d gotten self-destructive, taking stupid risks with his life. And they’d been there when he’d taken the early out offered to him by the Air Force.
A twinge in his spine spread through the shading in his tattoo and became a dull ache, as if the damned thing had a direct line to his heart, so he shoved that shit down hard and was grateful when Suzanne asked, “What about your dad?”
What a joke. “He’s not my dad. He was a sperm donor.”
“My dad too,” she murmured, taking her hand back to tuck it tamely in her lap. “I mean, he’s stepping up now, but I wasn’t conceived out of love. It was all hate and duty.”
“Hate and duty?” He entered the highway, easing between two semis. Her Jaguar ran like a freaking dream. He still wouldn’t trade his Rover for it, though. “And, uh, aren’t your parents dead?”
“Yes,” she said quickly. “Of course. I was talking about my birth father. I was adopted.”
Huh. That tidbit of information hadn’t been in any of the research he’d done, but it wouldn’t be that difficult for a family to keep an adoption private.
She held her hand in front of her face and waggled her fingers. “Now I know why I’m not supposed to have hard alcohol.”
Not supposed to? “Who told you that?”
“I dunno.” She looked up at the roof of the car, which made her breasts lift and strain at the low neckline of her blouse. “It’s just known.” She rocked her head back and forth as if testing its weight, and her breasts tested the neckline. They were going to get into an accident if she didn’t stop that. “You’d think I’d be able to handle it better. My dad drinks like a bile-bone fire fish. Except they drink blood.”
“A what?”
“Nothing,” she sighed. “I guess I have some pent-up feelings about my family. I miss the ones who are gone and I don’t understand the ones who are around.”
“I get that,” he muttered. He didn’t have much family, but he had a lot of friends he missed. “I really get that.”
It must have been something about the way he’d spoken, because once again, she reached over, but this time she took his hand, twining her fingers with his. He was so surprised that he just sat there in silence, unsure what to do. Which pissed him off, because he generally always knew how to handle any situation.
“Where does your family live?” Suzanne asked, her gaze fixed on something outside the passenger window.
“D.C.,” he said, offering nothing else. But Suzanne being Suzanne, she didn’t take the hint.
“Is that where you’re from?”
“Yeah.”
“Brothers and sisters?”
He exited the highway and merged onto the road that would take them to one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in the city. “I have four half brothers and sisters I’ve never met.”
She let out a quiet laugh. “We have so much in common.” Squeezing his hand, she looked over at him. “I’m guessing your parents are divorced?”
“They were never married,” he said. “My father barely acknowledges my existence.”
No, Declan was an inconvenient secret Senator Thaddeus Cantor III had wanted out of the way since the first time he’d pressured Declan’s mother to have an abortion...even as he’d campaigned on an anti-abortion message. And while it was just a suspicion on Declan’s part, he was pretty sure his father hadn’t given up on trying to get rid of Declan, even to the point of asking favors to have Declan sent on high-risk missions in the military.
“That’s really shitty,” she said softly. “Are you close with your mother?”
He turned into Suzanne’s driveway. “Not at all.”
Declan had been a means to an end for his mother, blackmail material to get what she wanted from a powerful United States senator. Jeanne Burke hadn’t been able to convince Thad to leave his wife and family, but in the years since Declan was born she’d gotten a lot of money, a high-powered job as a Pentagon spokesperson, and she lived the social life she’d always craved.
“And I did it all in spite of you,” she’d once told Declan.
Thank God she never expected him to go home for the holidays. Hell, he was lucky if she personally signed the Christmas card her assistant sent with his annual holiday fruit basket.
After punching in the gate code, he parked Suzanne’s car, but before he even shut it off, she was out of the vehicle and heading toward the house.
“I gotta swim,” she called out, even as she started peeling off clothes.
Shit. She was going to drown her drunk self. He hurried after her, picking up the clothes she tossed to the ground like breadcrumbs.
He had no idea how she’d gotten so far ahead of him, but by the time he got out to the pool, she was in it, naked.
And floating motionless, face down, on the surface.
“Suzanne?” He moved to the edge, his heart beating a little faster. “Suzanne?”
She didn’t move. Son of a bitch! In seconds, he’d kicked off his shoes, peeled off his shirt, disarmed, emptied his pockets, and was diving into the water. As a PJ trained for water rescues he’d pulled a lot of people out of the sea. But this was the first time he’d gone into a pool after a naked woman.
Well, after an unconscious naked woman.
He reached her upon breaching the surface, but even as he pulled her into his arms, she roused, blinking her big, drowsy eyes at him.
“What the hell were you doing?” he practically shouted. “Holding your breath? You scared the shit out of me.”
Her mouth quirked in amusement. “It’s hard to drown us.” She reached up, curling her arm around his neck as she dropped her legs so she was standing on his feet and her bare body was plastered against his. “I was hot. Were you hot? The water feels so much better.”
Okay, sure, the water felt great. But her slippery, hard body felt even more incredible.
It’s hard to drown us.
What did that even mean? God, could this assignment get any weirder? He was going to kick Ian’s ass for this. Assuming Ian didn’t kick Declan’s first, for getting involved with a client.
Not that he was involved. Not really. Although he knew exactly what Ian would say if he walked up on them in this position right now.
“Not involved? Are you fucking kidding me? She’s naked, you’re practically naked, and you know damned well how this is going to end.”
Imaginary Ian would then either rip Declan a new asshole or hand him a condom.
The guy was unpredictable as fuck.
Suzanne’s hands caressed his shoulders and slid around to his back as she buried her face in his neck and nuzzled the sensitive skin between his jaw and his ear. Holy shit, her water-slick body felt good sliding over his. Her breasts rubbed against his chest as she undulated, and her delicate moans vibrated him all the way to his balls.
One of her hands dropped, and her fingers found the fly of his jeans. But before he could stop her, she stopped herself and pulled back with an impish grin.
“Let’s go inside.” Her voice was husky, dripping with wanton desire. “My room.”
Okay, he could do that. He could get her to her room and put her to bed to sleep this off. Granted, right this minute there was nothing he wanted more than to fuck her into submission, but there was no way he’d do that while she was intoxicated. If he was going to risk his job, he was going to do it while they were both sober.
Taking her hand, he turned toward the steps, but she jerked him to a halt with her freakish strength. It made him wonder how she’d manage that strength in bed. Was she a gentle, playful lover, or did she like it rough and dirty?
“Wait.” She reached for him, and he went taut as her palm came down on his shoulder blade. “That tattoo is amazing.”
“Don’t touch—”
Too late. He shivered as her deft fingers traced the outlines of the angel wings that spanned his skin from mid-back to his shoulders. The wings were sensitive, painfully so at times. But sometimes, like now, they became erogenous zones.
“The detail is exquisite. The tattoo almost feels...alive.” Yeah, it felt that way to him too. “When did you get it?”
“Few years ago.” His voice was clipped, spoken through clenched teeth. He really didn’t want to talk about this.
“Why?”
Rage and pain hot-loaded like acid into his chest, burning like a mother. He hated the question so much, but he couldn’t find the willpower to tell Suzanne to fuck off the way he did everyone else.
“Declan?” she prompted, her fingers stroking the inked feathers at the bottom of one of the wings. Erotic sensation shot straight to his cock, becoming the only reason he was still standing there when he wanted to bolt. “What’s it mean?” Her voice became teasing. “Are you some kind of guardian angel?”
“I’m no angel, Suzanne.” he growled. “The tattoo means nothing.”
He started to pull away, to get out of this damned pool where he was trapped with a naked siren who tempted him to not only unload his cock inside her, but to unload his past as well. But then he froze as he felt a different sensation on his back. Something warm. Soft. Wet.
Her tongue.
A gasp escaped him as she dragged her tongue across his shoulder blade, where he knew exactly which feather she was tasting. Her lips pressed into his skin as she kissed him there, and he shuddered at the erotic tingles that spread from every point of contact.
“Suzanne,” he groaned. “You have to stop.”
“Why?” She kissed him again, this time at the very top of the right wing, her wet breasts pressing into his back.
Because I’m tempted. “You’re drunk.”
“Yes. But I knew what I wanted before I took a drink.”
Shit. This wasn’t going well. Gently, he reached behind himself and caught her wrists, but in a surprisingly powerful and quick move, she slipped his grip and spun him around so he was facing her, his chest against hers, his erection pressing into her belly through his soaked jeans.
Smiling, she leaned in, burying her face in his neck. Her soft lips nibbled at his throat as her hands roamed downward, sliding from his chest to his waist, the tips of her fingers sliding beneath his waistband.
A small plane flew overhead, and didn’t it figure that it was an expensive-ass private jet, probably heading for the hoity-toity private airport nearby. He would have rolled his eyes if he hadn’t been standing in a luxurious infinity pool with a rich heiress who was tempting him like no one ever had.
But what was her game?
As the plane’s engine drone faded away, he pulled back so he could see her face. “What is it you want? Really.”
“Huh?” She blinked, but her gaze was still unfocused. “I want to have sex with you. And I want you to tell me about the tattoo.”
Closing his eyes, he let out a long, strained breath. He wanted sex too, but in all reality it couldn’t happen. He already cared about her more than he should, and sex would only deepen his feelings for her, making him less effective in his job.
“Well?” Her palm found his fly again, and his eyes flew open. “How about you tell me about the tattoo and then we have sex?”
His fingers circled her wrist as he reluctantly pulled her hand away. “Suzanne, listen to me. We can’t do this—”
Lightning fast, she took his other hand and settled it on her mound. “Right there,” she said softly. “Oh, yes...” She pumped her hips so his fingers slid between her folds and he nearly came in his pants. “Touch me, please.”
There was a desperation in her voice unlike anything he’d ever heard. Oh, he’d made women beg before, had delighted in their pleas for release, but this was different. There was pain behind this request for pleasure.
“Suzanne...” His voice sounded tortured to his own ears. “I can’t.”
Her fingers dug painfully hard into his wrist. “But what if I die?”
“From not having an orgasm?” He tried guiding her toward the steps. “I don’t think that’s possible.”
“No.” She shook her head, her damp curls slapping against her cheeks. “What if I die and I didn’t have one?” She was serious, her brown eyes swimming in unshed tears.
“What’s this really about, Suzanne? Your stalker?” He lifted her face with one finger under her chin, making sure she saw the determination and promise in his expression. “I won’t let him hurt you. I swear it. Nothing is getting past me.”
The tears threatened to spill, and he couldn’t stop himself from tugging her close. She came willingly, folding herself into his arms as she pressed her forehead against his chest. They stood like that for a long time, until her sobs settled down and she sagged into him.
“Suzanne?” He kissed the top of her head. “Hey. You okay?”
There was a soft snore.
Unbelievable. She’d passed out. Standing up. In a pool.
And he now had a new What’s The Strangest Thing That Ever Happened To You On A Job story.
Damn, this job was bizarre.