Strip Search (14 page)

He was taking the rest.

"I'm not apologizing," she whispered.

"I would never ask you to." He smiled softly. "Just keep relaxing. It's going to be so good."

He pulled back, then sank down into her again. Another inch slid home. Nicki arched as his head dragged against a wonderfully sensitive spot.

"You like that?" he asked, repeating the process, entering her a bit more.

Answering "Yes" in a shaky voice, Nicki clasped his shoulders and tugged him back down so she could plant kisses along his neck and jaw, nibble on his lobe, glory in the musky sent of his skin, the murmurs of appreciation he made. She wrapped her legs around his waist.

"That's good. That's right. Open up for me, baby."

He grasped her hips and pushed himself the rest of the way home.

Nicki groaned and tightened around him. Now that Mark was in to the hilt, the feel of him buried deep amazed her. He left no part of her untouched--her walls, the very mouth of her cervix, and when he shifted and pressed down, he bumped her clit. She gasped, wanting more of him. Grabbing fistfuls of his silky hair, she tilted up to slide him a bit deeper.

He felt so right, so inevitable.

"Perfect," he groaned against her lips.

Mark started slowly, moving in and out as if he had all day, hesitating over that one spot guaranteed to drive her out of her mind with need. Pleasure built and multiplied with every lazy thrust, followed by the press of his hips, which put pressure right on her clit. Desire coiled in her belly, winding tighter and tighter with his every move.

Oh, yeah.
He knew
exactly
what he was doing.

Without hurry, he stroked her until her breathing turned ragged, until she felt a sweat break out between her breasts, until pleasure gripped her like a fist, tight and ruthless.

"Mark, ohmigod!" She thrust up against him, urging him. "Faster."

"No rush, baby." He held her hips still with his unyielding fingers, thwarting her attempt to control the pace.

"Harder," she demanded.

"Patience." He forced her to lie beneath him and take the building pleasure as it spiraled beyond her comprehension, even bigger than before. Mewling, she felt herself swell and tighten. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, as he continued to pump slowly into her hungry channel, scraping his head over the G-spot, then nudging her womb as he put pressure on her clit all in one smooth stroke designed to devastate.

Need began to center deep inside her as tingles tore through her body. Liquid fire danced in her blood like a fever that raged. She pressed desperate kisses to his jaw, the comer of his lips.

"Please. Please!"

"Please what?" he returned, lifting one hand to toy with a distended nipple.

That only added to the bliss her body found in his touch. She dug her fingers into his back. He seemed to know what she needed better than she did, and it amazed her. He ramped her arousal up with merciless precision. It rose inside her like a steep slope. Now she dangled over a precipice she couldn't quite cross. Instead, Mark just took her higher and higher with no end in sight.

"More. Harder. Now!"

He controlled the rhythm, the stroke, the depth, the angle--her and himself. Only a slight sheen of perspiration between his shoulder blades hinted at anything less than sheer calm on his part.

"You're not ready," he breathed in her ear, then nibbled on her neck.

Need zinged through her body. She shivered and moaned and clamped down on him.

"Like hell," she parted, arching up as much as the vice grip on her hips allowed. "I am ready. Beyond ready."

"Trust me. I want this to be good, baby."

His voice vibrated through her body as the latest in a series of effortless strokes overwhelmed her senses. Good? It was going to kill her. She was going to drown in the pleasure and never surface.

Above her, he tensed. Inside her, she felt him swell impossibly bigger. A glance at his face showed his clenched jaw, eyes closed in concentration. And still he kept on, ravaging her wits with every controlled surge of his hips, with every soft brush of his mouth over her skin.

"Mark, I'm ready! So ready," she panted between breaths. "Please!"

He opened his eyes, and she drowned in fiery green pools of pure need.
Bing. Zing!
Nicki felt that gaze deep inside her again, this time somewhere suspiciously near her chest, as he filled her again, going deeper than ever before. Their gazes connected them, as every nerve in her body converged between her legs, where they were joined. Her heart skipped a beat. Pleasure shimmered outward from the center of her need, pulsing, warning of the explosion to come.

"Mark," she sobbed. "I need--"

Suddenly, he thrust himself into her with a hard, pounding stroke, lifting her hips off the mattress. His fingers dug into her hips as his mouth fastened over hers until she felt completely invaded. Completely, wonderfully, taken.

She surrendered utterly for the first time in her life.

"Come. For. Me. Now," he demanded between relentless strokes deep, deep inside her as he captured her lips. again for an wild, sweeping kiss.

Fast, faster. Ohmigod! Oh my--

Nicki screamed into his mouth as the fire burst inside her, hotter than a thousand suns. She pulsed around him, feeling him embedded within her so deep, so perfect. Just like heaven. The dizziness returned, as the orgasm continued to shake her with a pleasure even stronger than before. Sublime ecstasy knocked her breathless.

She squeezed her eyes shut, reveling in the feel of Mark, strong and powerful and so male above her, inside her. She encouraged him with an upward thrust of her hips.

Then Mark tensed and shouted with a hoarse cry. His cock swelled yet again, sending her up another impossible peak. Fingers digging into her hips, he held her tighter as he rode her through his climax.

Long moments later, his thrusts slowed, then stopped. Winding her arms around him even tighter, Nicki held him close. As orgasm subsided, emotions rose, new, powerful, confusing. At the top of the list was a troubling reluctance to let him go.

Mark lifted his head to peer down at her. Gently, he brushed her hair from her damp face. Nicki gazed back through half-closed lids. He really was so incredibly good looking. Add fabulous in bed. And tender afterward. No wonder she was experiencing a moment of attachment. It would pass, but at the moment it made sense. Who
wouldn't
want the complete package?

Why had she spent even thirty seconds resisting him? There was a reason; she just couldn't remember it now.

"Hmm." He planted a soft kiss on her mouth. "That was .. "

"Beyond amazing. I think that registered on the Richter scale."

He laughed softly. "You may be right. Does that mean you don't regret calling me?"

"Fishing for more compliments?" she asked sleepily.

"If you'll take the bait."

"I'm pleading the fifth."

"You're mixing metaphors."

Nicki sent him an ironic but tired smile. "Whatever works."

A long moment passed in peace. Mark remained inside her, now semi-erect. He kissed the arch of her brow, traced her cheekbone with his thumb.

She could melt under that warm gaze, stay here forever, and
not
grow tired of that
dimpled smile
or the beautiful swirl of his hazel eyes.

"I want to stay with you, Nicki."

An odd relief slid through her--trying to melt away her wall of resistance.

Then Nicki frowned. What did he mean? Stay the night? Stay until tomorrow's show began? Maybe he only meant to be here long enough to use those three condoms he had left ...

Suddenly, she remembered exactly why she'd been avoiding him. Funny how a killer orgasm or two could unclog all the lust from a girl's thought process and make things clear as crystal again.

If he wanted to stay the night, that suited her--as long as he left afterward and didn't expect a repeat performance some other time. Seriously. Mark was an employee and a distraction. She needed to be focusing on her business, not her love life. They weren't having a relationship. She didn't have time for one. This was a one-night stand. It had to be.

Why stress? More than likely, he'd last as long around here as a wooden toothpick after a steak dinner, anyway. Which shouldn't bother her. He wasn't the first brief fling; Nicki doubted he'd be the last.

Still, somehow Mark was ... different. In light of the odd sense of connection she'd experienced tonight, Nicki feared it would be easy to get attached. And when he left, well, imagining her broken heart in his wake wasn't a stretch. His sense of humor, his sharp mind, even his bit of mystery all appealed to her. Not to mention the fabulous sex. That in itself was a distraction neither she nor her business could afford.

Putting a stop to this now was the smart thing to do. She just wished it didn't feel so crappy.

"I, um, have someplace to be at ten tomorrow," she lied. "But I'd love for you to stay until then."

Above her, Mark's shoulders stiffened. He cast a hard, narrow stare straight into her eyes. Nicki resisted the urge to cringe under his severe gaze. He knew it was a lie. Knew it.

But he just gave her a tight nod, withdrew from her body and rolled away in silence.

It was all Nicki could do to endure the aching emptiness she felt the instant he'd gone.

N
icki fell asleep within two minutes. Muscles relaxed and sated, Mark rolled to his back with a sigh and stared at her faux-finished ceiling. He wished his mind felt half as much peace as hers must have.

What the hell had just happened?

One minute he'd been gearing up for sex with a woman who flipped his switch like no other in recent memory. The next, he'd been balls deep, sucked into the depths of her, into everything that made Nicki unique. He'd started in control--then lost it inside her and went completely wild.

Why?

True, he loved the fact she was orgasmic. Really orgasmic.

Tiffany had had difficulty reaching climax, so Mark had learned to be patient, had learned lots of little tricks to get her off, hopefully once for an hour's effort. Nicki had gone off like a rocket four times in twenty minutes, then pushed him right over the edge.

But it was more than that. Was it knowing he had overwhelmed such a strong woman with arousal, that she'd surrendered ? Was it the way she cared about lots of the people around her, even if she liked to pretend she didn't? Was it those blue eyes seeming to stare right into him, as if she needed him?

He had no fucking idea.

And then, she'd brushed him off before he'd even left the bed. What the hell was up with her? It wasn't as if they were exclusive or dating or really involved. Still, it annoyed him. Irritated him, really. But the case had to come first. He'd figure out the odd workings of her female mind later.

Standing with another sigh, Mark disposed of the condom and stared at the clock. It was barely six in the evening. It felt odd to have the club two floors below them so quiet, without music rattling the windows. The parking lot around them looked so dark and empty. Usually the place teemed with noise and people.

The fact it didn't now made it the perfect time to look at Nicki's accounting records.

Mark glanced at Nicki sleeping peacefully and naked, all rumpled and curled up with a pillow and damp sheet. His heart skipped, and he hesitated. Nicki would be one pissed off woman if she ever learned the truth about why he'd pursued this job and the fact he'd taken advantage of her sexual satisfaction to further his agenda. Maybe he should wake her and tell her why he was here, rather than keep up this damned Viking charade.

Except she had no reason to believe him. Sure, he had a CPA but no proof to offer her of either Bocelli's involvement or the FBI's investigation. She'd already defended Blade, more or less, while telling Mark to butt out. He gritted his teeth at the memory.

Telling her about his mission wouldn't get him anywhere. Even if she believed someone was using her club to launder money and that he suspected Bocelli, what would prevent her from taking the knowledge straight to him, her lover? Her other lover.

That reality just sucked. Where was the nearest annoying Italian jackass when you needed someone to hit?

Part of him wanted to vow that somehow, some way, he'd convince Nicki to dump Mr. Hairy America and share her bed with only him. But his first priority had to be his mission, nailing Bocelli to the wall for his crimes, as well as for what he'd done to Tiffany and Mark's marriage.

Still, the need to totally claim Nicki didn't seem to be far down his mental priority list. And he didn't want to analyze why, didn't want to think about it. Maybe it was just the residual glow of good sex, and if he ignored it, the feeling would go away.

In the meantime, while Nicki slept and the club was closed, would be the perfect time to sneak down one floor into Nicki's office and start deciphering her accounting records, so he could complete his first goal and prove to her that Bocelli was dirty. That would free him to get on with the second, more personal task of being Nicki's only lover.

Stepping into his jeans and shrugging his shirt on, Mark padded his way barefoot to the front door, unlocking it on his way out.

Quickly, he stopped in at his apartment and grabbed a few blank CDs and a flashlight. Before he exited his apartment, he heard footsteps on the stairs leading up to this floor. Using the little peephole in the door, Mark looked out, only to find the object of his angry ruminations coming up the stairs.

Dressed in black, carrying a wicked, stainless steel .45 semiautomatic at his side and wearing a diamond stud in his left ear, Bocelli looked as if he'd earned his bad reputation with lots of blood--someone else's.