Harlequin KISS August 2014 Bundle (32 page)

“Because you’re a G-man following procedure?” she said, her voice
breathless.

“Why else?” He stood, his hands smoothing up her belly, between her breasts, out and around both, before finally cupping the curves. “Technically I should check your back too.” His thumbs skimmed her now taut nipples and pleasure surged, her body melting more. She fought to focus as he said, “But it’s occurred to me you don’t need any armaments beyond this.”

His mouth claimed
hers and she kissed him back with all the pent-up, conflicting emotions in her chest. Desire for Hunter, and fear of giving him too much power over her. Hunter simply took what he wanted, demanding everything, and Carly could do little more than comply.

Heat infused her every cell as his hands slid under her dress to clasp her buttocks, pulling her firmly against his hard length. She arched
against him in agreement, their mouths engaged in a primal duel even as his thumbs smoothed soothing circles low on her back.

“We need to lock the door,” she murmured between rough kisses.

“We need a condom,” he said against her mouth.

“The second one from the dispenser is in my purse.”

At her words, he pulled his head back, eyes still fiery with need, his brow creased in surprise.
She had grabbed the condom on impulse, wanting a memento, and she wasn’t sure if he found her charmingly funny or entirely too bold. For the first time in her life she didn’t know where she stood with a man, and it was driving her insane.

After a split second, he said, “I’ll get the door. You get the condom.”

Fortunately neither endeavor took long. When they met back in the center of
the room Hunter removed her dress and tossed it aside. “This time—” with a firm hand he gently pushed her down to the plush carpet and a thrill rushed through her “—I’m in charge.” He kept pressing until she was lying back, and then he slipped off her thong.

Throat tight, body aching for him, she watched Hunter take off his tux, starting with the coat, bow tie, and then his shirt. The sight
of the finely honed torso—the one he’d placed between her and her dad after her father’s insult—left her dying to take control. The acute need to worship lean muscle, warm skin and the hard, protective planes of his chest was strong. But when he shed his pants, was naked, his erection visible in all its glory, her heart pumped so hard she feared it would break free from her chest and flop to the
floor.

Maybe it was a good thing he was taking the lead.

He knelt and lifted her leg, kissing her ankle. He nipped his way higher, scraping his teeth across her skin, palms soothing the fire his mouth left behind. When he reached her inner thigh, with a quick dart of his tongue he licked the nub between her legs, and a sensual jolt shocked every cell.

Before she could catch her
breath he moved his attention to the other leg, giving it equal time. As his teeth nipped up her second thigh she closed her eyes, body humming, nerves straining, and arched to meet him. His lips landed on her center again and lingered, sending hot pleasure rushing through her. She gripped the thick carpet, a moan escaping her lips and sweat dotting her temples.

Time hovered, her mind expanding
even as her muscles contracted, focusing on the point where Hunter’s lips, teeth and tongue brought her to an ecstasy that washed everything away. There was no yesterday to regret. No tomorrow to worry about. Only the beautiful way Hunter made her feel.

Mouth between her legs, he worked his sensual magic, pushing her closer to the brink, so close to climax her whole body tensed.

He drew
back and, crushed, she let out a cry.
“Wait.”

“You’ll have to,” he said, and calmly rolled on the condom. And then, eyes on hers, he shifted up her body. Instinctively she welcomed him. He arched between her thighs, going deep. Relief shuddered through her and she shifted to absorb more of him, meeting him thrust for thrust. There was no doubt. No uncertainty or distrust. Just a desire strong
enough, sure enough, to push aside all the worries.

Heart pumping in her chest, hair damp at her neck, she closed her eyes as their hips strained against each other, her release just moments away.

This time when he pulled out her eyes flew open and Carly clutched his shoulders, speechless as he began to kiss his way down her neck to her collarbone. She found her voice, frustrated and
flabbergasted. “What are you do—?”

His mouth landed on a nipple, eliciting a sharp hiss, cutting off her words. He nipped and kissed, as if relishing her flavor, and the sounds of her soft cries filled the room. Gradually she grew louder, spurring him on as his lips traced a path down her abdomen. He licked the tiny dip at her navel, drawing out a groan from Carly before he continued down.
When his lips landed back on the sensitive center between her legs she called out his name. He lingered, apparently taking delight in pushing her higher, until she was close again, so close to completion she almost felt it.

Once more, before she could peak, he swooped up her body and drove deep between her legs. Arching his hips, he took all he could, and this time her body’s response bordered
on frantic. She let out a sob, the pleasure and need so great she dug her nails into his back, her legs aiding his thrusts as their hips bucked in unison. Tears of frustration burned her lids. The intensity of his gaze and the dark, determined look on his face shoved her closer to the edge. She began to whimper. And his movements, though controlled, grew carnal. Rough. Primal.

Mind spinning,
muscles straining, she marveled at his strength. At the hard body that pushed her to the brink, exposing her even as he held her close. The hips that drove her closer to a dangerous ledge, his arms providing security.

Laying her open even as he protected.

Until she burst through the barrier, crying out from the force of her orgasm. And clung to Hunter as he joined her, the quake shaking
her body with a ferocity that rocked the very foundation of her world.

* * *

“Looks like that cloud is bringing rain,” Abby said.

From the lounge chair beside her, Carly shaded her eyes from the glare. “I think we’ll be fine,” she said, staring at the single gray ball of fluff blotting the horizon.

The noontime sun sparkled in the brilliant blue Miami sky—clear except for the
single offending cloud—and the lingering cold weather added a slight nip to the breeze. The utilitarian concrete rooftop of Carly’s apartment building was strictly for maintenance access. It wasn’t as nice as her multimillion-dollar childhood home overlooking the Atlantic. But Carly had added a few potted ferns, along with some used patio furniture, and with the city sprawled out in front she considered
it heaven. After about a week of wondering where she stood with Hunter Philips, right now she needed the tranquil haven.

“Pete Booker asked me to spend the weekend with him,” Abby said.

Carly sent her a pleased grin. “And you said he wouldn’t ask you out after the last date.”

“Yeah, well...” Abby picked at her black leggings and smoothed her hand down the dark top with sleeves that
flared at the wrists. “There’s always a chance he’ll change his mind.”

Carly studied her friend, her tone soft. “Not every relationship ends in catastrophe, Abby.”

“All mine have.” She twisted to face Carly, her black hair in pigtails. “And unless you’re holding out on me,” she shot her a meaningful look, “so have yours.” Carly resisted the urge to wince at the truth, and Abby went on.
“Speaking of questionable relationships—have you heard from Hunter?”

Carly’s heart took a tumble. “Not since my dad’s party.”

“You’d think by now he’d, like...you know...actually ask you out on a date.”

Carly slunk down in her chair and pulled her sun visor lower, shading her eyes. Too bad she couldn’t block her concerns as easily.

Confused, emotionally and physically exhausted
from the evening, the moment she and Hunter had rejoined the party Carly had left. And she’d spent the last seven days wondering what Hunter would have done if she hadn’t begged him to make love to her. No longer sidetracked by his disturbingly delicious presence, it was impossible not to scold herself for continuing to pursue a man who didn’t trust her. Wasn’t it enough to beat her head against
the stubborn attitude of her father?

Must she continue to seek approval from those who doubted her the most?

After deliberating for hours, she’d decided it was time to cut her losses. Apparently self-control was impossible when it came to Hunter. She had no choice but to face him on the third show, but she could stay far, far away from him until then.

As plans went, it was all she
had.

“And speaking of catastrophes,” Abby said in a grim tone, as if she’d read her mind, “you put a lot of effort into getting approval to write a piece on Hunter Philips. Now that our boss has finally said yes what are you going to tell her?”

Carly stared at her friend, and tension flooded her faster than she could reason away her fears. The look on Abby’s face reflected all the dark
predictions she’d made from the beginning. For the first time Carly feared her friend wasn’t so much a pessimist as a realist.

And then Hunter’s voice came from behind. “Hello, Carly.”

Carly’s heart plunged to her stomach, and Abby shot from her chair, mumbling excuses about rain, getting wet, catching pneumonia, dying and burning in hell as she made a beeline for the exit. Gathering
her courage, Carly twisted in her seat to watch Hunter approach, clad in a sleek leather jacket, pants and a dress shirt. He looked fresh and rested, but she hadn’t slept well for a week, reliving every moment with Hunter in her father’s house.

He sank into the lounge chair vacated by Abby. “Nice view,” he said, nodding at the city.

She doubted he was here to take in the sights. “How
did you find me?”

“I saw your car in the garage and asked your neighbor where you were.”

They stared at each other, and silence fell. After her tumultuous family reunion, not to mention their sizzling interlude in the study, she was unable to play games or pretend to be polite—her nerves were too raw for her usual charm. She needed peace—which meant she needed him to leave. “What do
you want, Hunter?” she said bluntly.

His voice was low, sincere. His blue eyes warmer than normal, their usual frost...gone. “I have to attend a conference in Las Vegas this weekend.” His gaze was steady. “I’d like you to come with me.”

Stunned, Carly bit her lower lip, struggling to adjust to the development. A weekend together didn’t exactly jive with her goal of avoiding the man.
Unfortunately she loved how he made her feel, and it went well beyond what he did to her in bed—not that they’d technically made it to a bedroom yet. A part of her was tempted to risk a bigger piece of her heart just to spend more time with him. Another part was scared as hell.

She really should refuse.

Heart thumping with the force of a thousand bass drums, she tried to play it cool
and keep it light. She hiked a teasing brow. “It won’t make me go easy on you on the show.”

“I’m not afraid,” he said, his faint smile utterly seductive.

Her resolve slipped a bit. “I’m still going to challenge you to pull The Ditchinator.”

“I can handle it.”

Her heart thudded, and her attempt at keeping it light died. “My boss has accepted my request to do a story on you.”
If that didn’t get him to bolt, nothing would. And, though his body didn’t move, his whole demeanor tensed as her words hung in the air.

“And if I refuse?” he said.

“It doesn’t matter. We’ve slept together. I can’t write it now.”

He cocked his head. “Have you told your boss?”

Ah, yes. There
was
that little hiccup to contend with. Carly briefly closed her eyes as panic threatened
to overtake her, but she fought it back. After months of chasing Sue about potential story ideas, and having spent a considerable amount of time pointing out the advantages of a story on Hunter—including his current popularity with the local press—now she had to figure out a way to tell her boss no. Short of claiming the public’s interest had waned, or sharing that she’d slept with the man,
she was out of ideas. The first was an obvious lie. The second could get her fired. Again.

Swallowing past the boulder in her throat, she met his gaze. “I’ll tell her soon.”

She just had to figure out how. Sleeping with him hadn’t been the smart thing to do. But the enigmatic Hunter Philips had captured her attention where every other man had barely registered a “huh.” And now he was
here offering her a whole weekend with him.

A gift that could eventually bite her in the backside.

Delay tactics were in order. “What kind of conference?” she said.

“The largest hacker convention in the US. Hackers, security experts, even law enforcement attend to keep up with the latest tricks. I’ve gone to Defcon every year since I was a teen.”

“Did your dad take you?”

Hunter let out a laugh. Stunned, Carly watched amusement roll off the man. “No, my dad’s not into technology—though he
is
retired FBI,” he said. “His dad was a Fed too.”

The news explained a lot. “It’s in your blood?”

“Absolutely. But not in the same way. Dad is old school, and doesn’t like reliance on computers, so we’ve had a few heated debates in our time,” he said dryly, giving
the impression he was understating the truth. And she knew a lot about heated family debates. “But...” His expression grew thoughtful as he looked out over the city. “Even when we disagreed about everything else,” he said, and then turned to face her, “the law and justice were two subjects where we always saw eye to eye.”

She tipped her head. “Fidelity. Bravery. Integrity...” she mused softly.
Would that
her
family mantra was so noble. “You grew up living the FBI motto.”

A dark look flitted across his face, and he shifted his gaze away. “Not exactly.”

Surprised, Carly crossed her arms. “You mean you
haven’t
always lived the life of a justice-seeking action hero?” Silence followed, and her teasing statement grew awkward as his expression remained serious, his eyes studying
the skyline. Curiosity now at full throttle, Carly said, “Do tell.”