Skin Dive (12 page)

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Authors: Ava Gray

Tags: #Romance

BOOK: Skin Dive
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“Thanks.”
She turned then, just as he withdrew his hand from her shoulder. He didn’t plan it; God knew he had no desire to torture himself. But Taye caught the towel and it pulled free, wafting to the floor. He had his first look at her fully bared body, and it hit him like a sledgehammer in the gut. Christ, he’d never seen anything as lovely as the sweet flare of her hips. And that ass—
No, don’t turn around.
But she did. His breath went in a rush and Taye stared at her in dumb fascination. He felt like a teenaged boy confronted with his first naked woman. There must have been others, but he could recall only her with that cream and rose-petal skin, the smooth indent of her waist, and the coppery curls at the lee of her legs. And her breasts . . . so pert and pretty, rising and falling with each breath. The berry nipples firmed as he drank her in.
He might have managed not to touch her if only he hadn’t looked at her face. But one glimpse of those wide eyes and parted lips, and Taye lost the battle. In her he saw echoed hunger, and the fear that he would not find her pleasing.
She had kissed him before, a clumsy caress that left him reeling with pleasure. He’d kissed her at McGinty’s to get the bastards to leave her alone. This time it would be different. He snared her hand and spun her into his arms. Lowering his head, he claimed her lips with fierce longing; he parted them with a single movement and then touched his tongue to hers. She whimpered, a sound full of innocence and curiosity. It set him on fire.
Naked in his arms, she was utterly at his mercy. Conversely, he was determined not to take this too far. Nothing irrevocable. Delight consumed him, as he realized nobody had ever touched her like this, smoothed a hand down the graceful slope of her back or cupped her heart-shaped ass. In this, he could give without taking.
Gillie writhed against him, falling into the kiss with a passion that made the top of his head tingle. She followed his lead, press and taste, slide and thrust, until their bodies echoed their mouths, straining together. He fell back a step, and she cried out in protest.
“Not again. Not this time.”
He soothed her with little caresses and kisses, edging her with his body back toward the sink. In a smooth motion, he lifted her and she splayed her knees unselfconsciously. In that moment, she was a creature of fire and silk, burning for him endlessly. Taye knelt, paying homage with featherlight kisses dusted on the inner curve of her thighs. That didn’t shock her. Instead her eyes turned sultry, dropping to half-lidded expectation, and she tangled her fingers in his hair. He smiled as he inched upward, teasing her with teeth and tongue.
“You have to tell me what you want before you get it.”
Though he half expected shyness, she answered with bold confidence. “Lick me, Taye. Suck on my clit. Put your finger in me and play with me until I come.”
Maybe he didn’t know her as well as he thought. Maybe she was right. She didn’t use the dirtiest words, but this was all new to her. For someone who had never been touched before, it was an impressive showing. She
wasn’t
a demure little virgin—and that turned him on fiercely.
“Your wish is my command,” he growled.
But she wasn’t prepared for the heat of his mouth; he could tell by the way she jerked, eyes widening, and then her hands tightened in his hair. Her hips shifted in restless, seeking surges. He licked her in slow strokes, denying her a fast release. He wanted her sobbing and screaming before he was done.
If I can’t keep you, sweet girl, then I’ll give you a memory that’ll stay with you always.
She tasted so fucking good, fresh and clean, with a hint of musky sweetness. Taye did precisely as she asked, kissing and nuzzling, using his fingers and his lips to drive her ever higher. Her encouraging words melted into incoherent sounds and then sobbing pleas. He eased a single finger inside her; she was astonishingly small. Imagining her pussy wrapped snugly around his cock almost made him come in his pants. She didn’t react as if it hurt her. But nobody had ever touched her. That electrified him on a primitive level.
He worked her body with ruthless expertise, muscle memory filling in what his mind had lost. She arched and sobbed, contracting on his finger as he sipped at her clit. Gillie wrapped her thighs around his head and bucked. It took most of his strength to keep her balanced on the counter. Taye nuzzled her through another orgasm before her pleasure sounds drifted toward pain. Then he dialed it down, little kisses and soothing touches to calm her nerves. She fell limp into his arms, eyes glazed with satiation and perfect trust.
Words rose up inside him; he had spoken them to her before or some similar permutation.
Don’t look at me like that. Not
me.
“Nothing for you?” she asked dreamily, curling into his arms. He smiled and shook his head. Incredibly her delight dulled his own ache. It felt manageable, almost pleasurable, down at a low hum instead of that endless roar. She was the cool river that could slake his most dire thirst; he would like to lie down in her like a green valley and let his soul absorb her peace.
“Not tonight.”
Not ever.
But she didn’t need to know that. It would only upset her, and he would like to spend this one night holding her. He could allow himself that much: scraps from the banquet. Perhaps it was selfish, but he’d earned this much of her.
As the snow became a blinding curtain outside, Taye carried her toward the stairs.
CHAPTER 9
The routine snatch
and grab had turned into a complete goatfuck. Cale had lost his whole team, trying to bring those two in alive. Now he was inclined to peg them both in the head when he caught up to them, but that wouldn’t get him the rest of his payday. The terms of the agreement were clear. He had to take them alive, if he wanted his other quarter mil. That was crazy money. Which was why he was starting to wish he’d passed.
Over the years, he’d become selective about the jobs he accepted, no more grunt work, no more body dumps. He should’ve known this was too good to be true. It would’ve been nice if his freakish employer had seen fit to tell him just how creative the male target could be. The row of burning cars and all the subsequent explosions inspired his admiration; if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he never would’ve believed it. He had been forced to scramble before the cops showed up—and it’d been a long time since anyone got the best of him. This game had gotten boring, but the potential for catastrophic failure and death? That rendered the chase interesting. It was also the only reason he didn’t refund the Foundation’s money and say,
To hell with this.
He squatted in a condemned office building across the way, waiting for the heat to die down. But when the fires were out, and all the city personnel and insurance adjusters disappeared, he eased out of the structure and down the stairs. It was early afternoon, and he got a good look at the destruction. Impressive, really. No less than seven cars. Bits of them had been left behind when the city towed them away. The heat was such that it had scorched the pavement. Dirty snow mingled with the metal shards and seared plastic.
Considering the mess it had been the night before, the street appeared quiet and clear. He had watched the scene long enough to be sure they hadn’t left any surveillance behind. He jogged five blocks south to where he’d parked his car. In a stroke of good luck, it was untouched, and given the neighborhood, that was saying something. But he’d deliberately chosen a nondescript vehicle, nothing that would arouse interest or envy. If they’d known what kind of gear he kept stashed in his trunk, though . . . yeah, best not to tempt fate.
Cale drove back to the scene and risked parking nearby. It shouldn’t take him long to roll the apartment and see if they’d left any clues as to their next stop. He already had a complete dossier on Gillie Flynn, at least until age twelve. Truth be told, he felt a bit sorry for the moppet, but this was business. Her protector offered nothing but question marks, which seemed odd. The Foundation ought to have records on him. But his case files—and the more recent documents on Ms. Flynn—had been blown up in some lab mishap and they weren’t the sort of organization that left data backups all over the place. Most likely for good reason.
He swung out of the car and unlocked the trunk. The jacket concealed his weapons.
Should be no need for them.
Therefore, he only needed one thing from here. Cale snagged the aluminum case and headed for the brownstone. Part of the lobby had been cordoned off with crime scene tape. He skirted that and went up the stairs.
They’d occupied the first apartment on the left, top floor. It was a total armpit of a place, stained with the procession of tawdry lives that had passed through the door. Dirty brown carpet, peeling paint—one room with a kitchenette and bathroom. The furniture looked like it hadn’t been replaced since 1976. There were dishes in the sink.
After donning gloves, it took all of five minutes to flip the place from top to bottom. Nothing. With a shrug, he shifted to plan B. Cale cracked open the case and assembled what he would need to dust the place for prints. Maybe he could learn something about Electro by putting him into the system.
The inner doorknob was the obvious place to start, and he got lucky. Two sets of clean prints, which he lifted with tape. Then he packed his kit and headed downstairs. There was nothing for him to find but clothes. Nothing written down or tossed in the trash. They were extraordinarily careful. After years of unqualified success, Cale didn’t mind. He enjoyed pitting himself against an intelligent opponent.
In retrospect, he knew where they’d gone wrong. His men had secured the perimeter
too
well, neutralizing any potential interference. That resulted in a lack of normal ambient noise. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again. No, these two he would capture himself, alive, as the Foundation wanted. After this last job, he’d retire. The paycheck would certainly permit a life of leisure, somewhere tropical. He’d earned it.
No point in delaying here any further.
Cale bugged out, moving down the stairs with his customary watchfulness. He didn’t think Electro had anyone watching his six, but one could never be too careful. Not in his line of work.
Once he left the brownstone, he drove for a good ten minutes to clear the neighborhood and then he found a motel, one of the low-end chains that offered wireless Internet as its greatest amenity. He needed a little privacy to do some digging.
The clerk looked tired, though it was only three in the afternoon; the guy had enough luggage beneath his eyes for a European vacation. His thinning hair stuck to his oily scalp, revealing patches of eczema. The heat inside the lobby steamed the front windows and created low visibility. If he worked in here, that wouldn’t stand. He needed to see what was coming.
Cale handed over his credit card and ID, then tapped his fingers, giving the unspoken signal for
hurry the fuck up.
Despite his appearance, the attendant was efficient, and pretty soon he had a keycard for room 208—second floor, overlooking the parking lot. Perfect. He went back out into the cold and skimmed the cars. Near the street, a couple of guys stood wrapping up a drug deal; at least he surmised as much from their furtive looks and the exchange of cash for a brown bag. Eight cars, not too many guests. This was a decent place to do some research.
Grabbing his gear, he went up to his room and checked the place thoroughly. Paranoia perhaps, but it had kept him alive where other mercs ate a suitcase bomb. He made a habit of scouting any place he intended to spend more than a minute or two. But other than some slovenly housekeeping, this motel appeared to be clean. After pulling the drapes, he set up his equipment on the prefab desk. Once he had the prints ready to go, he dialed an associate at Interpol. Direct line, important business only.
“Hausen?”
“What?” He sounded none too pleased to hear from Cale, especially at this time of night.
“I need you to run some prints for me. Unlikely to be anything internationally, but you have access to US databases, yeah?”
“Don’t you have any American friends you can bother?”
“None that owe me favors, like you do.”
Heavy sigh. “Right. Send them to the usual address. I’ll get the info as soon as I can. But I’m knocking another off the tab. Now you only have one marker left.”
“You’ll need me to save your arse again soon, I have no doubt.”
Hausen cut the call with a derisive sound, but the truth was, he called whenever he had a mess that needed clearing up. In the past, Cale had specialized in that sort of thing. Sometimes interrogations took a turn for the worse, and he did whatever paid best at any given time, making him a true mercenary. In general, people didn’t cross him because he knew where the bodies were buried.
He was somewhat concerned about dealing with the Foundation, however. Their enemies—and even their allies—had a history of disappearing, so he’d laid contingency plans, making sure they knew certain information would be sent to the press, should anything happen to him once he completed his end of the contract, leverage to keep the corporate kraken honest. Done for the moment, he put away his scanner and laptop, stowed both in their cases and slipped them beneath the bed. Better if he showed no sign he was different from any of the other faceless patrons.

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