Crash Into Me (28 page)

“You
are an idiot.”

He
laughed harshly, agreeing with her.

“Did
you cheat on her, too?”

“No,”
he said, sobering. Not liking the question, or the context under which she’d
asked it before. “And I didn’t go on any more surprise tours.”

Sonny
stared back at Ben, finding him devastatingly handsome and painfully sincere.
Every time he opened up to her she fell in love with him a little bit more. It
was so ironic that his devotion to his wife, the very reason he would never be
able to commit to another woman, was what made him irresistible to her.

In
her mind, she was stepping over the threshold of balcony doors, walking past
the stark, soulless interior of his bedroom, and right out of his life. In
reality, and a repetition of their short, tumultuous history together, he
wouldn’t let her go. And she allowed him to detain her, because she wanted to
stay.

“I’m
not going to lie to you,” he said. “I loved her. She was the mother of my
child, and I really loved her. Being with her was as comfortable as breathing.
She drove me crazy sometimes, but it was never like this.” He put her hand
against the middle of his chest. “There’s nothing comfortable about you.”

He
was a little off the mark, as far as compliments went, but his heart was
pounding and his eyes were hungry.

Maybe
he didn’t love her, but he wanted her.

He
must have understood that she needed more convincing. “I’ve never wanted a
woman the way I want you,” he said, covering her mouth with his and proceeding
to convince her with some very tantalizing movements of his tongue. He broke
the kiss, breathing hard. “If you don’t let me fuck you again, I’ll die.”

She
laughed at his overstatement, but he took himself very seriously, and went
about seducing her as if his life depended on it. He sank to a cushioned lounge
chair, pulled her onto his lap, and had her all but purring in minutes.

He
touched her and she shuddered. She unbuttoned his pants and touched him, too, stroking
lightly until he took her hand away.

“Come
here,” he said, leaning back in the reclining chair. Sliding his body under
hers, he urged her forward until she was straddling his chest, her belly level
with his mouth. Her robe gaped open, baring her from the waist down.

She
cast a worried glance for watchful neighbors, who would surely be able to guess
what they were doing. Seeing none, she felt totally exposed, nonetheless.

And
unbearably excited.

Bending
his head to her, he traced the rim of her belly button with his tongue. When
she sucked in a breath, he glanced up at her, the corner of his mouth quirking
into a slight smile. Reaching underneath her robe, he cupped her bottom and
brought her up to him.

She
twisted her fingers through his hair, gasping as he slipped his tongue inside
her.

With
a helpless moan, she surrendered, moving her hips, pressing herself to his
mouth. When his tongue found her clitoris, the whole world fell away. She came
in a shuddering rush, collapsing against him, brilliant orange sunbursts and
white-hot flashes dancing behind her eyes. She could literally hear the
crescendo ringing in her ears.

Or
maybe it was just waves, crashing on the rocks below.

She
drifted back to earth, chest heaving, and realized she’d just screamed down the
rooftops in broad daylight. She felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“Sorry,”
she said, climbing off him.

“For
what?”

She
stared at his face. Her scent was probably all over him. “For mounting your
head. Smothering you. Going crazy.”

He
laughed. “You think I didn’t like it? My mission in life is to make you go
crazy.” He shifted uncomfortably. “You can mount any part of me, anytime.”

She
looked down. He was painfully erect, oozing with arousal. She bent her head to
lick the pearly drop from the tip. When she took him fully into her mouth, he
moaned, and a moment later, she had him quaking with pleasure. “Baby…”

Making
a soothing sound, low in her throat, she stayed right where she was.

“No,”
he said. “I want to be inside you.”

“Do
you have a condom?” she asked, because he was breathing hard, struggling with
himself.

“In
my pocket,” he ground out.

She
pulled his jeans down his legs and searched the pockets, doing the honors once
again. Letting the robe fall off her shoulders, she climbed astride, easing
herself down on him. As soon as he was buried to the hilt, she leaned forward
and kissed him very softly on the lips. “I like you here,” she said, tracing
the crescent-shaped scar above his hard, beautiful mouth. She could feel his
stomach quivering, and every inch of him, thick and pulsing within.

“Don’t
move,” he warned.

“Okay,”
she breathed, clenching her inner muscles.

Groaning,
he took her hips in his hands and rode her on him, hard and fast, up and down,
back and forth, his movements wild, uninhibited, uncontrolled.

Panting,
she pushed him back against the cushions, bracing her palms on his chest and
reestablishing control. Matching the pace he set, she rode him desperately,
raking her nails down his torso and squeezing his pectoral muscles, slipping
her fingers into his mouth for him to suck.

When
he licked the pad of his own thumb and placed it against her clitoris, she was
so wet and sensitive that one touch sent her skyrocketing.

Gripping
her hips tightly, he came, too, a hoarse cry wrenching from his throat in the
moment of release.

For
a long time, she lay sprawled across his chest, replete.

“I
love you,” she murmured against his neck. His body tensed under hers as those
words penetrated the sensual fog surrounding them. She lifted her head,
wide-eyed and suddenly alert. “I didn’t mean that,” she said quickly.

He
brought her head down to his chest. “I know,” he said, stroking her back. His
words were almost swallowed by the sound of the surf pounding on the shore
below, and the heavy thudding of his heartbeat, a frantic rhythm that matched
her own.

“Somebody’s here,” she said, placing a
hand on his hip.

“Just
Carly and James,” he murmured against the back of her neck, smoothing his palm
over her stomach.

“No,”
she whispered, sidling away from him. “Two men. Coming upstairs.” She cocked
her head, listening. “Do you have a gun?”

He
looked at her like she was crazy. “What?”

“Go
in the bathroom,” she ordered, jumping up from the bed. Not waiting to see if
he complied, she searched the room for a ready weapon. Knowing she had only
seconds to spare, she jerked one of the upper drawers from his dresser, shook
its contents onto the floor, and stood beside the door, stark naked, ready to
brain someone with it.

Ben
gaped at her incredulously.

“Get
out of the line of fire,” she whispered, motioning him with her free hand. “You
don’t have a gun, but these guys do. I can tell by the way they’re moving.”

Instead
of leaving her to her own devices, he planted his back against the wall beside
her, and when Special Agent Colby Mitchell kicked in the door, Ben jumped.

Sonny
didn’t.

She
swung the mahogany drawer up, hitting Mitchell under the forearms and causing
him to discharge his weapon into the ceiling. A cloud of plaster rained down on
them. Although she’d banked her strength as soon as she recognized him, the
impact must have been excruciating, for Mitchell fell to his knees.

She
was on his back, with control of his gun, in the blink of an eye.

“Drop
it,” a voice said from behind her.

A
bead of cold sweat ran down her spine. She trained the weapon on the back of
Mitchell’s head and cast a glance over her shoulder.

Grant
was pointing his service revolver at Ben.

Underneath
her, Mitchell began to shift. She never should have looked back. In that moment
of distraction, he gained the upper hand. He rolled over her, crushing her
underneath him, knocking the air from her lungs and smashing the back of her
head against the hardwood floor. Disconcerted, she tried to put the gun between
them, but Mitchell plucked it from her hands like he was taking candy from a
baby.

Damn.
He’d been practicing.

She
was down, but not out, so she managed to get enough leverage to aim a hard
right at his left eye. He moved at the last second, and her fist glanced off
his cheek, opening up the skin. Facial wounds were gushers, and she was pleased
to have drawn first blood, although a blow to the eye socket would have been
more effective.

In
retaliation, Mitchell backhanded her across the face so hard she saw dark
flashes.

“Are
you done?” he asked.

She
bared her teeth. “Get off me, you ape.”

At
the open doorway, Grant lowered his weapon. “Are you Benjamin Lyndon Fortune?”

Ben
placed a hand over his heart, as if to make sure it was still beating. “Yeah.
Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m
Special Agent in Charge Leland Grant and this is Special Agent Colby Mitchell.
We need to take you in for questioning.”

Sonny’s
eyes flicked over Grant. The sound of her voice last night must have tipped him
off to her wanton behavior, but she’d never have guessed he would fly in on the
next plane, or try to take Ben into custody by force.

“Call
off your dog, Grant,” she said wearily.

“Let
her up,” he said, gesturing to Ben. “Get him instead.”

As
Mitchell released her, Ben’s eyes narrowed. “You know these guys?”

Her
stomach churning with dread, she stared down at the floor, unable to meet his
gaze. “Just do what they say, Ben.”

“Can
I put my pants on first?” His tone was surly and bewildered, an understandable
reaction from a super-rich judge’s son who had never expected to be manhandled
by the police. Or betrayed by a woman.

Grant
motioned his assent. “Please do. Let’s all holster our weapons, so to speak,
and proceed in a rational manner.”

Ben
took it all in and came to the natural conclusion. “You’re a cop, aren’t you?”
He jerked his pants up, shooting her an angry glare. “You lying fucking bitch.
You’re a cop.”

Mitchell
forced a laugh. “Look how bent out of shape he is. You must be dynamite in the
sack, Vasquez.”

“Fuck
you, Mitchell,” she bit out, mad at herself for letting him get the best of
her, although her pride was stinging more than her face.

“Anytime,
baby.”

Sonny
dragged on her own clothes, aware that Mitchell was ogling her nude form and
furious with Grant for allowing it.

She’d
just been demoted, and this was part of her punishment.

“By
the way, I like what you’ve got going on downstairs,” Mitchell added, elbowing
Ben in the ribs. “Don’t see that every day, do you? Usually it’s the other way
around. Light on top, dark down below.”

Ben
wasn’t much of a fighter, but there was only so much insult a man could take in
his own home. With a low growl, he drew back his arm and sent his fist into
Mitchell’s stomach. Mitchell didn’t even flinch. Ben shook out his hand,
wincing, and Mitchell had him facedown on the carpet, hands cuffed behind his
back, before he could say
Ouch.

“You
want to resist some more, motherfucker?” Mitchell panted.

Ben’s
response was muffled, but it sounded affirmative. Not amused by his attitude,
Mitchell jerked Ben to his feet, handling him with deliberate roughness.

Grant
turned his dispassionate gaze to Sonny. “Speaking of body hair, thanks for the
sample, Special Agent Vasquez. We’ve got a positive match on Lisette Bruebaker,
from above
and
below stairs.” He gave her a pitying look. “I regret that
you had to take such extreme measures to collect it from this bed.”

Sonny
began to pull on her socks and shoes in silence, clenching her jaw until her
teeth ached. By implying that sleeping with Ben had been part of her official duty,
Grant was protecting her, but she was too devastated to feel relieved.

Grant
inclined his head at Ben. “You’re a popular man, Mr. Fortune. Getting your
money’s worth out of that Egyptian cotton.”

Sonny
glanced at Ben, gauging his reaction. The expression on his face, when he
realized she’d been deceiving him from the beginning, tore her apart. She
watched every tender emotion he’d felt for her wither up and die.

“I
want my lawyer,” he said, eyes cold.

“Take
him downstairs,” Grant ordered, dismissing Mitchell and Ben with a wave of his
hand. When they were out of earshot, he turned to Sonny, his steely gray eyes
speculative. Her boss was a hard-ass, but he’d never been deliberately cruel.
He was aware of her history with men and had always treated her with respect.
The look he gave her now was more paternal than professional, but it still cut
her to the quick.