Betrayed (Hostage Rescue Team Series Book 9) (18 page)

She met every stroke of his tongue, each roll of his hips, her hands sliding over his naked torso with greedy intent. He wanted to claim her right here and now. To fucking
own
her.

He left the shower running, using the white noise to drown out any sounds they might make if either Briar or Rycroft came upstairs to check on them. Not that he gave a shit what either of them thought about him and Georgia. She was the sole reason for him taking this job and he was going to savor every moment of this.

But it wasn’t enough to simply strip her the way he was dying to and plunge into her heat. The darkest part of him needed her stripped bare emotionally too, for her to be wide open and vulnerable like she had been the last time, desperate for release before he gave it to her.

And he would give it to her. As many times as she wanted before they were forced to leave the sanctuary of her bedroom and face the real world again.

But when they left it, he wanted to be absolutely sure they’d be facing the world together. He wouldn’t accept anything less. Not with Georgia.

God, she made him so damn hot he could barely think. Easing back from her, he pushed her thighs from his hips, smothered her protest with another blistering kiss before peeling her shirt over her head and pulling her bra off. The soft mounds of her breasts spilled into his waiting hands, the taut pink centers begging to be sucked.

He was only too happy to oblige.

“I’ve dreamed about doing this again so many times,” he said in a rough voice. One hand fisting in the back of her hair, he gripped her hip with the other and lowered his mouth to a straining nipple.

The instant he took it into his mouth her fingers clenched in his hair and she let out a ragged gasp, her spine bowing. Pushing her deeper into his mouth in a silent demand for more.

Her head fell back against the wall, her eyes drifting closed and an expression of rapture on her face. Fucking gorgeous, and all his. He was going to burn this moment into her mind, imprint himself in her skin so she’d never be free of him again, no matter what happened after this.

He wanted her to crave him with this same uncontrollable need she unleashed in him.

Sucking and teasing her other nipple, he reached between them and made short work of getting her pants undone and down her legs, taking her panties with them. She kicked them free of her feet and stood there completely naked in front of him.

For a second he thought his brain might melt. She was the hottest fucking thing he’d ever seen in his life, all lean, taut lines and creamy skin that was so damn soft, in direct contrast to her edginess.

Continuing to tease her nipples with his mouth, he smoothed one hand up her inner thigh. She shivered and widened her stance, sank her teeth into her lower lip as she watched him, waiting for him to touch the soft flesh between her thighs.

But he was enjoying himself too much to end their torment yet, no matter how badly his cock ached.

With slow, deliberate caresses he trailed his fingertips up her thigh, following the tendons on the inside and stopping just short of the tender folds he was dying to taste. He rubbed that smooth skin slowly, letting his fingers barely brush against the edge of her sex. She squirmed, made a mewling sound and pressed her hips toward him, still clutching his head to her breast.

Finally, he grazed that slick flesh, tormenting her with the promise of more, building the anticipation. God, she was so wet for him.

Her breathing was erratic now, tiny tremors shaking the muscles in her thighs and belly. Releasing her nipple, ignoring her groan of frustration, he pressed his lips to her stomach, added a little more pressure with his fingers.

“Miguel,” she warned in a tight voice, tugging on his hair with a sharp movement. “You’d better damn well put out the fire you started or I swear to God I’ll—” Her threat ended in a breathless gasp when he knelt before her, seized her hips in a firm grip and pressed his mouth to her tender core.

A soft, high-pitched cry left her lips as he opened his mouth and stroked his tongue along her folds, stopping directly over her clit. He let his own eyes close as he tasted her, teasing with soft flutters and licks.

Her fingers dug harder into his scalp, the prick of her nails making the hunger roar hotter. She was whimpering now, lost in her need, her hips moving in a ceaseless motion as she rubbed against his tongue.

He’d memorized everything about her response that night in Miami. What she liked, what she loved, what made her crazy.

He put it to good use now, driving her up to the peak but refusing to give her the release she was fighting for. Over and over he licked the taut bundle of nerves at the top of her sex, enjoying every cry he pulled out of her, every tremble in the muscles of her thighs and belly.

“God, please make me come,” she gasped out. “I need it so bad.”

Not until he was inside her. In Miami he’d taken her in the dark, his only regret from that night.

This time he wanted to see everything. He wanted them joined as intimately as possible, stare at her face while he made her come in broad daylight.

Surging to his feet, he fisted one hand in her hair as he took her mouth in a deep, urgent kiss and wrenched his pants open. His cock sprang free, hard and aching, desperate to plunge into her. Georgia grabbed his shoulders and wound a leg around his hip, her urgent cries drowned by the kiss.

With one hand cradling her ass he shifted her until the head of his cock lodged against her entrance. Then he broke the kiss, panting as he stared down into her face.

Her blue eyes were drugged with pleasure, with need. “Miguel,” she groaned, arching into his hold.

You’re fucking MINE
, he thought in triumph.

Tightening his arm around her hips, he thrust upward, burying himself in her heat with one slow, inexorable stroke.

Her lips parted and her eyes squeezed shut at the feel of him inside her, a guttural cry of pleasure exploding from her. God, she was so tight, so hot around his cock. He sucked in a breath and locked his knees, ready to explode, fighting it.

She writhed in his hold, her movements tight, urgent. “Miguel,” she pleaded, her voice rough, desperate. “Miguel,
now
.”

Yes.
Now
.

Easing his hips back, he waited a beat before plunging deep once more, releasing her hair to slide his fingers between their bodies, finding and stroking the hard bud of her clit. The back of her head thumped against the wall, an expression of erotic torture spreading over her face.

Beautiful, angel
. Miguel took her nice and slow, making her wait, forcing her to endure the ride as the pleasure spiraled higher and higher.

She was shaking now, her legs locked around him, hands digging into his shoulders with a frantic grip. When he couldn’t stand it a second longer, when her desperate cries echoed in his ears, he took her hard and fast.

Georgia sobbed out his name and flexed backward, her lithe body forming a beautiful arch as the pleasure crested and burst.

Heart thundering against his ribs, he stared at her, drinking in every detail, relishing the moment as she surrendered to him, her core milking his cock. A groan ripped free of his chest.

He buried his face in the curve of her neck and thrust hard, roughly chasing after his own release. The muscles at the base of his spine tightened, a warning tingle spreading up from his balls and then he let himself go, exploding inside her.

He couldn’t breathe, could only hold on, locked inside her as the orgasm hit. He was vaguely aware of saying her name, of her hands stroking over his bare shoulders and back, the warmth of her surrounding him.

When he finally found the strength to open his eyes and raise his head he found her watching him with a softness, a vulnerability in her gaze he’d never seen before. “So now what?” she whispered, running her fingers through his hair.

Catching her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he leaned in to capture her lips in a slow, lingering kiss. She sighed and melted for him, twining her arms around his neck.

He pulled back and lifted an eyebrow. “Any more questions?”

Searching his eyes, she gave him a tender smile that turned his heart inside out and shook her head. “Not at the moment, no.”

“Good. Because you’re all mine.” He reached over to kill the shower switch. Without releasing her, he kicked his pants and underwear free then carried her out into the bedroom where he curled up in the big bed and held her tight in his arms.

“Good morning, how may I help you?”

Nico gave the young female bank teller a polite smile. “I’d like to set up an account and open a safety deposit box, actually. A small one is fine. I just moved into town.”

He leaned casually against the counter, one hand in the pocket of his dress slacks. He’d changed into business attire for the occasion, dark slacks and a white button-down shirt.

Professional but nondescript, completely forgettable. Which was exactly what he wanted.

“Of course, sir.” She listed off the fees and the procedure and he agreed to the terms. “I’ll get that all started for you. May I have two pieces of photo ID please? And here’s the paperwork you’ll need to fill out.”

Nico handed over two pieces from a fake identity he’d made with a local address, and took the forms. He sat in the chair she indicated and began filling them out, sneaking little glances around while she worked on her computer.

He’d already noted the position of the security cameras outside and inside the bank when he’d first entered. Not that he was worried about being caught on camera because his IDs were solid and he wasn’t on any wanted lists.

Only because the feds hadn’t been able to link him to any of his hits, he thought with a surge of pride.

Once the forms were filled out he handed them back, gave her a polite smile when he caught her watching him. He wasn’t a bad looking guy but he didn’t want her or anyone else in here to remember his face once he left.

She blushed a little and got back to work, verifying everything on his forms and checking his ID. “Very good, Mr. Allen. Do you have the item or items you’d like to put in the deposit box with you today?”

“Yes.”

“Great. I’ll just go get my manager to get everything set up for you. She’ll take you back into the vault once it’s all ready.”

“Thank you.” He passed the time waiting for the manager to process everything by scrolling through his phone. No new messages from his boss.

The bank was quiet, not surprising given how small this town was. He couldn’t imagine it ever got too busy here so it should be easy enough to figure out if anyone had gained access to Georgia Randall’s safety deposit box.

As long as his plan worked.

After a few minutes a middle-aged woman wearing glasses and a skirt suit emerged from an office in the back. “Mr. Allen.” They shook hands and she gestured to the back. “Here’s the key to your safety deposit box. If you’ll come with me, I’ll take you into the vault now.”

Nico kept his eyes open for more cameras on the way to the vault, noting their position in case he had to break in after hours. The manager unlocked the vault and took him over to the safety deposit box area. Immediately he scanned the box numbers and found the one supposedly belonging to Georgia, at the top of the third row.

The manager opened the logbook, asked him to sign in and checked his signature to verify it. But his entry was the second one on a new page, someone having visited the vault an hour before him. Not Laura Johnson, the identity he’d been told to look for.

After pulling out his box, he followed the manager to a viewing area.

“Take your time,” she said with a smile, and turned her back.

As expected, he didn’t spot any cameras in here, which made sense for the bank’s privacy policy. He used his new key and her master key to open the box.

As he dug into his pockets for the items he’d brought to put inside it—a replica antique pocket watch and other trinkets he’d picked up at a junk store before coming here—he coughed.

Two times. Four.

Sucking in a gasping breath, he faked a full-on coughing fit.

The manager turned back to him, an alarmed expression on her face. “Are you all right?”

He waved a hand at her, bent over with one hand on the desk as he pretended to wheeze through the bouts. “Sorry. Just getting…over a bad cold,” he gasped.

She frowned in concern. “Can I get you some water?”

Bingo.
He nodded. “Please.”

The second she hurried out of there, he raced to the logbook and flipped it open. Still coughing to keep up the ruse, he scanned the last few pages, looking for any familiar names but didn’t see any. He worked fast, knowing he only had moments.

Pretending to stifle the coughs, he listened. Footsteps on the carpeted hall outside the vault told him his time was up. Shutting the logbook, he rushed across the room and was back in position at the desk when the woman walked in with a cup of water.

He let out another few harsh coughs, gave her a pained smile as he reached for the cup. “Thanks,” he whispered and gulped half of it.

“Tara mentioned that you’ve just moved here,” she said, taking the cup back when he handed it to her. “The pharmacist at the local drug store is really good. Phil. You should go talk to him, because you don’t sound too good.”

“I’m okay.” He wiped his face, expelled a shaky breath. “Thanks for the water. I’m all done here.” He locked the box and left it for her.

Outside in his rental he immediately drove to a secluded area of town, changed and called Diego. “She hasn’t accessed the box recently. At least not that I can tell.”

Although that didn’t mean much, since she likely used fake IDs all the time too. And he couldn’t be sure whether that box was in fact the one she used. If Rycroft knew about it, he might have already sent someone in with a warrant and had the bank drill the original box open.

“Want me to get it?” She had to have other copies somewhere, but they didn’t know where, so for now this was their best option.