Beneath the Secrets: Part One (8 page)

A shiver raced down her spine and Kara knew Blake felt her tremble even before he challenged. “Scared? Or did I just hit a nerve?”

He was hitting all kinds of nerves. She was wet and hot and…“I’m naked and it’s cold, and where would I hide anything at this point?”
   

“Only one more place I can think of.” Suddenly he was on his knee at her side, tugging down her thong and all but lifting her to rid her ankles of the entanglement of clothing there. Almost instantly, his mouth was at her hip, lips teasing the curve between it and her waist. A shiver ran down her spine, her body sensitive to every touch of his hand, every movement he made.
 

He splayed a hand on her belly, and more anticipation swelled inside her as he lazily caressed her there, his fingers going lower each time, but still not low enough. She could barely breath for the desire to push his hand where she wanted it, where he knew she wanted him. And when his lips pressed to her hipbone, she was so ultra sensitized that it was as if they scorched her skin, burning her like hot coal would a cold night.
 

“Perhaps here,” he suggested, his fingers finally sliding between her thighs, into the silky wet heat of her aroused body.

“Yes,” Kara whispered, unsure what she was answering, besides ‘here’ being exactly right in every way. There was nothing but the desire she felt for this man, and the way his thumb flickered over her swollen nub. The way his lips, tongue, and teeth, were trailing the length of her waist to hip. She wanted that mouth to go lower, to replace his hand, to lick her and taste her and…he slipped two fingers inside her.
 

Panting, she wished her hands free from her blouse around her wrists behind her, wished she could whisk fingers into his hair to steady herself. Blake’s free hand palmed her inner thigh, widening her stance, making her feel even more unsteady. She swayed and his palm curved on her leg, holding her. All the while, his fingers were doing delicious things, stroking her, caressing her. Kara moaned, tingling all over, unable to hold back the sound of pleasure.
 

“At least I know you enjoy your work,” he said with a low voice that was downright burning with acid.
 

The insult jolted Kara back to realty, and she stiffened, her hot blood going icy. What was wrong with her? How had she let herself get lost in this man? He was the enemy. She was just another whore to pleasure him before he did who knew what to her to make her pay for Denver. Suddenly being bound and at his mercy wasn’t erotic at all. It was dangerous. He was dangerous. She, well she was just a fool.
 

Adrenaline exploded from Kara and she acted without thought, seeking escape. Swiftly, she twisted around, managing to take him off guard, and he wasn’t able to stop her.
 
She wobbled without her hands free though, and he was already on his feet, wrapping her in his embrace, and melding their bodies together.
 

“Easy now, sweetheart,” he warned, his long hair falling loose from the clasp at his neck, and damn it, it made him look sexy. Like a sexy asshole who was probably a murderer just like Mendez.
 

“I’m not your whore or Mendez’s,” she hissed.
 

“You fucked me for a bonus in Denver.” His voice was hard, his eyes even harder.
 

“I told you that wasn’t part of the job any more than tonight is.”

“That’s not what Mendez said.”
 

Kara’s stomach knotted with this news despite already assuming as much. Suddenly, she was intensely aware, and resentful, of her nipples pressing into his chest, of her being naked and him fully dressed. “You both have the wrong girl, then.”

His hand went to her hair, twining almost roughly around a section. “So it’s okay to drug me but not fuck me for money?”

There it was. A verbal slap. How had she expected less? “You’re here. You got the job. Isn’t that what matters?”

“If the results what you want, then the means to which you get it with doesn’t matter. Is that how you sell things to yourself?”
 

 
“I never intended to sleep with you,” she blurted, unsure why it was so important he believe her, unsure why her voice trembled when she never lost her composure. “It just happened.”

“I thought it was necessary?”

“I could have drugged you without staying.”

His eyes narrowed. “I doubt that, sweetheart.”

“Do you even remember how I drugged you?”

His expression darkened. “Why don’t you tell me.”

“How I did it isn’t important.” She drew a breath and let it out, softening her voice. “What’s important is that I didn’t have to get naked to do it. I didn’t. I promise you. I stayed by choice.”
 

“By choice,” he said, his voice tight, gravely.
 

“Yes,” she whispered. “By choice.”

He stared at her long and hard, and the air thickened around them. She felt his muscles coil beneath her touch, sensed the anger in him begin to shift, change. His gaze darkened, heated, flickering with something she couldn’t read, something intense, that quickly turned scorching hot. Desire radiated off of him, consuming her in the process. Suddenly she felt him everywhere, inside and out. His fingers flexed in her hair and it was as if a band had been pulled tight and snapped between them. They moved at the same time, leaning into each other, reaching for more, whatever more might be.
 

His mouth slanted over hers, his tongue pressing past her teeth, stroking deep, tasting her, claiming her. Passion overcame her, washing over her in a wicked flush of tingling skin and the tremble of her legs. But there was more than passion and desire. There was so much more.
Too much
more. There were emotions she didn’t understand, emotions that were dangerous with a man who could destroy her. And there was relief, crazy ridiculous relief, that he knew the truth now. That he knew that she hadn’t slept with him for anyone but herself. She cared what he believed of her when she shouldn’t care at all. It was insanity. He made her crazy, opened her up inside and exposed something raw and vulnerable that she didn’t want exposed. She shouldn’t even want him to touch her, but
oh yes
, she did, and to the point of barely being able to breath for her need for him.
 

His hands stroked over her waist, caressing her breasts, and she arched into him, panting into his mouth. He reached behind her, surprising her by tugging away the blouse, and releasing her hands. He lifted her and before her arms and legs fully circled his body, he’d set her on the desk on the opposite side of the room. Kara had barely steadied herself with her hands behind her when Blake settled into the chair in front of her, and lifted her legs over his shoulders.
 

Kara sucked in a breath at the intimate, vulnerable position she was in, wearing nothing but thigh-highs and heels, spread wide open for him. A sense of that vulnerability mixed with extreme arousal overcame her, scared her. Suddenly, desperately, she needed some form of control, some ability to impact what came next when she had none now. “Blake, I—”
 

“We’ll talk later,” he said, and with a hot flick of his gaze over her breasts, he leaned down and licked her clit. And then licked it again, and again, until he suckled her nub with a gentle, perfect pressure that had her lashes lowering, her body quivering. So much for control. She needed a plan, a defense. Right. Defense. That’s what she needed. He slipped two fingers inside her sex, stroking her, pleasing her. She moaned and decided the plan could wait until later.
 

Chapter Seven

She shattered for him, the sweet honey of her release teasing his tongue and thickening his ridiculously hard cock. The already insane and intense ache to be inside Kara deepened, became nearly unbearable, but it was the kind of ache he knew how to satisfy, the kind that he often sought as an escape from the torment of the past two years. Finally he was with this woman in the place he belonged, in a place where only one thing mattered. Hot, sweaty, forget-everything-else sex. It was the only place the enemy belonged, the only place he could afford to let her, or anyone else for that matter, perhaps, ever again. This was a place, a feeling, he could deal with. This, Blake could embrace.
 

Just thinking about being naked with Kara again had his blood roaring in his ears, pumping through his body like liquid fire. Blake licked her clit one last time, feeling her tremble and soften into the aftermath of release. He eased her legs off his shoulders, then lifted her from the desk. Her legs wrapped his waist, arms wrapped his neck, and she buried her face in his neck, tangled her fingers in his hair. There was something about her gentle fingers on his scalp, the way she held him, the way her soft curves pressed into his, and her silky hair tickled his cheek, that broke through the fog of desire and allowed an uncomfortable pinching sensation in the center of his chest. Emotion. It was emotion. He hated flipping emotions. Emotions led to attachment, and attachment led to trouble…to loss and pain, and…more trouble. He wanted none of those things ever again, most especially not with the woman formerly known as Tiffany Snow.
 

He simply wanted to give the one woman he’d ever loved the only send-off he could by way of the slow, painful death of the man responsible. He didn’t give a damn who thought that was wrong. He could bet Whitney didn’t either considering she was dead and in the ground. Damn it to hell, why was he thinking when he could be fucking? It was past time to get naked and deep inside Kara.

Blake lifted Kara and carried her toward the bed, settling her onto the mattress. He tried to pull away from her, intending to make quick work of undressing, but she wrapped herself around him, and somehow their eyes locked. And Holy shit, the impact of that connection all but knocked him over. His breath lodged in his lungs, and his damn heart raced as if he were running a marathon. He had no idea what it was about this woman, but she reached inside him and twisted him in knots. His gaze dropped to her mouth, her lush, tempting mouth, that he wanted to kiss way too damn much for comfort. His teeth ground together, the muscles in his body tightening. It was time to shove Kara into a “fuck only” box, and make damn sure she knew that’s where she belonged.
 

With a low growl, Blake slanted his mouth over hers, devouring her, hungry for that dark place he knew would allow him to escape, to get lost in pleasure. His tongue suckled Kara’s, and then delved deeply for a long, seductive lick.
 

She moaned at his invasion, a delicate, sweet sound when he knew she was anything and everything but sweet. But she sounded sweet now and tasted it, too. Sweet and delicious and addictive. Too addictive. He couldn’t stop kissing her. Damn, he needed her wrapped around him, all tight and wet, the way he remembered her feeling in Denver.

With a low growl, Blake tore his mouth from hers, intending to push away and undress, but the creamy expanse of Kara’s throat called to him, demanding attention. His lips trailed over it, downward, while his hands caressed her breasts, his mouth finally settled on her quivering belly. He believed her when she’d said Denver had felt “necessary”. She was too responsive, too completely his when he touched her, for it to be a lie. His ability to affect her drove him wild, made him even crazier with desire for her. But it was still just sex and he planned to make sure she knew it, too.
 

He pushed away from her, tugging his shirt over his head. She sat up, her breasts high, her nipples puckered, and kicked away her shoes, lounging in front of him, watching him with a languid quality that reminded him of a regal feline, ready to be served, pleasured. Her gaze followed his jeans and briefs to the ground, her dark lashes lowering over her chocolate-brown eyes, and lingering on the thick jut of his erection. Holy fuck, she was killing him, and the flick of her tongue over her bottom lip that made his cock jerk, told him she knew it, too. She was everything and anything but sweet, and he’d be smart to remember that.
 

Blake snatched a condom from his jeans before tossing them aside. She scooted to the edge of the bed and held out her hand, her legs opened just wide enough to tease him with a glimpse of what was between. “Can I?” she asked softly.

Damn, she did the “innocent temptress who wasn’t innocent at all” role to perfection. And that temptress called to his need for control, a need that had become bigger, more powerful, more demanding, every day since he’d left behind the ATF, every hour he didn’t have his revenge.
 

“Since you asked,” he murmured, stepping closer to her.
 

Her fingers closed around the package he held, her gaze lifting. “You aren't very good at asking.”

“I have my moments.”
 

“Just not with me.” She ripped open the condom.

“No,” he agreed. “Not with you.” But he had a soft spot for her. And soft spots were like poison kisses, easily lethal. It angered him.
She
angered him. If only that was all she did to him.
 

She reached for his cock and he grabbed the condom and pulled her off the bed and against him. “I don’t like games.”

“I wasn’t aware we were playing one.” Her gaze cut to his chest, a sign she didn’t believe the words.