Killer Secrets (25 page)

"More. Always . . ." Her head fell forward as a
scream of agonizing pleasure poured from her lips.

He slammed forward. No easy. He plunged inside her in one
hard lunge, aided by the incredibly slick

juices that poured from her. His thick flesh slid to the
very depths of her, but the impalement parted tight

muscles, stroked incredibly sensitive nerve endings, and
sent fiery strokes of pleasure ripping through her,

over her.

"Ian, oh God, what you do to me." She panted for
breath as he withdrew once again. She screamed as

he slammed forward again.

It was too good. So good. Especially when he paused, his
cock throbbing inside her, his thighs holding

hers steady, his hands tightening almost bruisingly on her
hips.

"Do to you?" He held himself inside her as her
muscles rippled around him, throbbing inside her, making

her crazy with the flexing, heavy weight. "You destroy
my control."

He drew back, his cock dragging through the sensitive
tissue as a hard groan echoed behind her.

"What's control?" She shivered, then shuddered as
he retreated.

She knew what was coming. She tried to prepare herself for
it. Her fingers clenched in the cushion of the

chair, tightening as he pressed her into the opposite arm.
But it wasn't enough. He drove inside her, and

she came within a breath of fracturing.

Because he didn't stop. The hard, furious thrusts stroked
and impaled, penetrated and stretched her, in

half a dozen hard plunges that sent her screaming into
orgasm. She clamped down on his cock, felt her

release rush through her, pumping through her veins,
through her mind with a detonated force that had to

rival a nuclear explosion.

Behind her, Ian snarled, groaned, then jerked from her grip
and a second later spilled his release against

the small of her back.

He collapsed over her, the hard ridge of his cock trapped
between them as his hips jerked, stroking it

between their combined flesh as she shuddered in the final
throes of pleasure. It was only then she

realized that he hadn't used a condom.

It wasn't the first time she had been taken hard, or fast.
But God help her if it wasn't the first time it had

blown her mind.

Ian's hand, callused and rough, dragged her hair back over
her shoulder as his lips pressed against the

curve of her arm. Hard breaths rippled over her flesh as he
held her close, the now damp length of his

cock still throbbing between them.

"You have twenty minutes to shower." His voice
was guttural, almost angry despite his harsh breaths, his

caressing lips. "And by God, you better not be
late."

He pulled away from her as she straightened, turning and
leaning against the chair, and she watched him

fix his slacks. Within seconds, other than a sheen of sweat
on his broad shoulders, he was perfectly

collected, while her legs felt like spaghetti and her mind
was mush.

"Eighteen minutes." His voice was hard, his eyes
were blazing with emotions. Anger and remnants of

arousal.

"Eighteen minutes." She tensed her legs and
forced herself to move away from him. "I'll be ready in ten."

Fifteen

SHE WAS READY IN TEN.Ian watched as she strolled out of the
bathroom dressed in white

figure-skimming casual pants and a creamy sleeveless
blouse.

Her long black hair was mostly dry and fell around her
shoulders and down her back in a cascade of

rough silk. Lightly tanned flesh contrasted with the white
fabric, and those sexy-as-hell legs looked longer

with the should-be-illegal white fuck-me pumps she wore
with the outfit. She paced over to the walk-in

closet where the maid had unpacked her luggage, disappeared
inside then returned with a small, matching

leather clutch.

She looked like a fallen angel.

Even after the rough treatment he had given her minutes
before, bending her over the chair, fucking her

like the animal he sometimes felt he was, she still managed
to flash him a teasing smile.

After choosing her clothes, Ian had changed his own slacks.
He wore navy now with a loose gray finely

threaded cotton shirt that hung over the casual pants. He
wore boots today. Not combat boots—damn,

he missed those—but comfortable, well-made leather boots
that would be easier to fight in if the meeting

he was heading to took a nosedive.

A meeting he was going to have to take Kira to. His gaze
checked out her outfit again as his back teeth

clenched in fury. She had to appear harmless, though he
knew for a fact she was anything but.

He moved to the locked dresser drawer where he kept a few
smaller weapons, pulled free a backup

handgun and several fully loaded clips before relocking the
drawer and turning to her.

"Pack these." He handed her the weapon and ammo.

Without comment she took them, tucked them into her purse,
and stared back at him with a glimmer of

amusement in her blue-ringed gray eyes.

"I had my own weapons," she told him. "What
did you do with them?"

"Daniel has them." He tucked his hands in his
pants and let his gaze skim over her again. "Those heels

are going to be a hell of a handicap if one of these
meetings goes sour."

"My heels weren't a handicap in Russia," she
reminded him softly. "And if anyone is going to believe I'm

a helpless little female, then the look has to be right.
Dress me any other way, and they'll be on guard."

And she was right. She couldn't be seen as anything less
than all woman. A trophy. Nothing more.

He nodded slowly. "I'm meeting with Josef Missern.
After the assassin that followed him to the buy and

last night's confrontation, he's offered me a hell of a
deal to make up for any
misunderstandings
. We'll

be meeting with him to iron out the details and see what he
has."

"I should follow behind," she told him.

Ian watched the frown that pulled at her brow as she began
to consider the drawbacks to the meeting.

He continued, "We're meeting on the southeast coast of
the island. The terrain is flatter and easier to do

a flyover. We'll come in on the ground after Trevor takes
the copter over it. We'll be in two vehicles.

You and I will be with Deke, and Mendez and Cristo will be
in the other vehicle. Missern will be meeting

with us in the limo rather than in the open. I'll see what
he has and then we'll leave."

"Why not teleconference? It would be safer."

"But harder for me to detect facial and body
language," he told her. "Missern knows I'm pissed and he's

trying to smooth things over before I retaliate against
him. Let's see how determined he is to stay alive."

He watched her closely, gauging her reaction to the mention
of his retaliation against the arms buyers.

There was none; she nodded slowly as though considering the
options.

"When we leave there, I'll be meeting with the men
that transport Fuentes drugs from the Colombian

ports to American waters. You'll stay with Trevor and
Cristo while I talk to them. You won't be a part of

that meeting."

Her head snapped up as her eyes glittered in protest.

"Wouldn't you consider that a mistake?" She
questioned him with an undertone of the commanding force

he knew she was capable of.

"No, I consider you being at that meeting very
ill-advised. As my lover, your influential position in

American society as well as your recognizable name would be
a hazard."

Her lips tightened.

"Why didn't you come in disguise?" he asked her.
"Why risk yourself like this?"

"You're not in disguise," she finally answered,
her voice low. "We do this together, as who and what we

are, Ian. And I don't ever want to hear another name from
your lips while you're taking me. No matter

the circumstances."

Damn her. He hadn't expected that, and he hadn't expected
the sharp tug of response that pulled at his

chest either.

"Not using a disguise was stupid." Anger built
inside him. Dammit, he hadn't had a problem with control,

with the things he had to do, until her. Now, the anger was
rising inside him, making him a danger to her if

he didn't find a way to contain and control it. "Do
you have any idea the risk to yourself and your

reputation?"

"Temporary." She waved it away. "When it's
over both our reputations will recover."

Irritation flashed through him, emotion wore at his
control. She was too confident, too certain of her

abilities. It terrified him.

It made him hard.

He stared at her for long moments, trying to understand the
effect she had on him, the strength he saw in

her. What could have produced a woman so incredibly
feminine and yet so strong? In all the years he

had come into contact with her she had been protecting
rather than protected, and despite her uncle's

insistence on a bodyguard, she was fully capable of defending
herself.

She made him crazy, and he was smart enough to know that
part of the craziness was based on the fact

that he was at heart as chauvinistic as they came. He
wanted to protect her. He wanted to shield her.

And she was having nothing to do with it. It was playing
hell on his control and drawing him close enough

to her that he could feel the risk to his own soul.

If something happened to her— He cut the thought, pushed it
away and turned quickly from her.

"Let's go. Diego is waiting downstairs for us and then
we have to head for that meeting."

No emotion, he reminded himself. If he kept his emotions
buried then he could watch her enter the life he

was forced to live and hopefully survive it.

Hell. Who the fuck was he kidding? She was shredding his
control to the point that the night before he

had allowed himself to be drawn into a confrontation with
Diego and now he was bending Kira over a

damned chair and taking her like an out-of-control bastard.

Hell, he hadn't even kissed her first.

As he escorted her from the room, something had him
allowing her to move abreast of him, his hand

lying naturally at the small of her back. Just to touch
her. Guilt was eating him alive, curling in his gut and

burning in his chest.

The memory of her bent over that chair, taking him, taking
the mix of arousal, jealous anger, and furious

concern she caused in him, had his teeth clenching again.
He was going to end up wearing his molars

down within days because gritting his teeth was the only
option at this point.

He couldn't have her kidnapped and held for her own safety.
He'd already broached that option with his

boss at DHS during his latest secured contact. She was
there to stay, he had been informed. Whether or

not he put her covert talents to work was up to him, but he
couldn't have her taken out of the game, and

he couldn't force her out of it.

She was determined to be a part of this and he still
couldn't figure out why. Unless she was working with

Durango team.

They moved down the steps and headed through the foyer to
the breakfast room. He was taking his

lover to meet the monster he called his father and he was
supposed to do it with a measure of control. He

wasn't supposed to be gritting his teeth in arousal and
irritation and fighting a hard-on he shouldn't have

because his lover was the most self-assured,
psychologically strong woman he had ever known in his

entire misbegotten life.

As they neared the breakfast room, the houseman opened the
double doors, standing back

expressionlessly as Ian escorted Kira into the room.