Two Hot!

The words brought their own kind of pleasure. She felt as if she should respond, but her thoughts were focused on what he was doing with his mouth and where he was headed. At least, she thought she knew where he was headed as he released her breasts, lowered to his knees and drew her legs apart. Anticipation streamed through her, and for the second time she was willing to believe that it was half the fun. But she wanted the rest of it, and she wanted it now.

Her voice was a rasp when she said, “I’m ready.”

“In a minute. I’m really getting into this data collection.”

She wanted to hit him, but she couldn’t seem to lift her arms.

And still he took his time, making her wait, making her want, until the tension building inside of her was almost unbearable. She thought she knew what was coming, what it would feel like when his mouth finally reached its destination, but the quick lick of his tongue shot through her like electricity.

She cried out, arching as her arms shot back to grip the bark of the tree.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured as he gripped her thighs to steady her. Then he pulled her closer for a deeper taste, probing first with his tongue and then more deeply with his fingers. The pleasure grew more intense as he penetrated her again and again in a slow, steady motion. But every time she thought she was close to climaxing, he drew away to trail a line of kisses down her thigh. And then he would start the process all over again.

She wanted to scream but she couldn’t find the breath. She wanted him to go on almost as much as she wanted to end the torture he was putting her through.

When he finally stood up and drew her toward the hammock, she would have done anything he wanted. On the way, he grabbed his shorts, removed a condom, and managed to get it on.

“Getting in is always a bit tricky. Turn around.”

As soon as she did, he slipped an arm around her waist and positioned her back against his chest. “When I sit, I’m going to pull you into my lap and then we’ll tumble in together.”

Her legs felt like jelly. If he hadn’t had a strong grip on her, Zoë was sure she would have landed fanny first on the ground. As it was, they made it into the hammock without a mishap. He’d been right about the close quarters, she decided. They were lying on their sides, pressed together tight like spoons in a silverware drawer. She should have been uncomfortable, yet she wasn’t. He was a solid wall behind her. Their legs were tangled; one of his lay between hers. One of his arms was trapped beneath her, and his free hand was stroking over her hip. She was very aware of his erection pressing hard against her backside, fanning the fire that he’d started inside of her.

“You okay?” he asked.

“No,” she said, suddenly annoyed. “I’m not going to be okay until you’re inside of me. No more data collecting.” But when she tried to turn, intending to get on top of him, he held her still.

“So help me,” she fumed. “You’re going to pay for this.”

His chuckle rumbled again. “I sure hope so, sugar. But trust me. I’ve got a plan.”

“It better be faster than—” She broke off, distracted when he shifted slightly, lifting the leg that was between hers. “Did I mention that getting in is always a bit tricky?” Then he pushed into her in one long, slow stroke.

“Better?” he murmured against her ear.

She wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure she could breathe. He was filling her and the pressure was huge. She drew air in. Maybe. “Yes.”

“You don’t sound positive. We could try something else.”

But when he started to withdraw, she reached behind and clamped a hand on his butt. “No.” She didn’t think she could stand it if he withdrew. “This is fine.”

“Fine isn’t what I’m after,” he murmured. “Let’s try this.”

He moved his left hand to cover her breast and slid his right one lower until one finger was between her folds and pressing against her clitoris. At the same moment, he withdrew and then pushed in again. The fierce lash of pleasure made her cry out.

“Shh,” he murmured, holding her still until she steadied. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she managed. “Yes. Do it again.”

He did, slowly for the first few strokes as if he were waiting for her to get used to him. When her nails dug into his butt again, he steadily increased his rhythm. The pleasure streaming through her grew more intense with every stroke. She knew her climax was close, but he still wasn’t moving fast enough, hard enough. She’d never had release build this slowly, this agonizingly. She’d never known a hunger like this. Was this what he’d meant about anticipation?

Desperate, she dug her nails one more time into his butt. “Please. I need—”

He used his mouth on her neck, biting hard on that spot that he’d located before. Then he began to move faster and faster until her orgasm finally erupted in a violent explosion of pleasure.

Even then, he didn’t slow the rhythm, and when he cried out with his own release, she climaxed again.

Afterward, he held her close for a long time until the trembling that she couldn’t seem to control stopped.

And she let him hold her. There was pleasure, a totally different kind, in lying there in the hammock with his arms holding her tight.

That one small piece of data told her that she was in deep trouble.

5

“WE NEED TO TALK,” Jed said.

Ryder turned from the railing of the houseboat where he’d been watching what he could see of Sierra’s car disappear up the dirt road in a cloud of dust. The early-morning sky was pale gray with a sliver of silver moon still visible in the sky. “Right now? What time is it?”

“Six o’clock.” Jed tried to keep the impatience out of his voice. He’d wanted to talk to Ryder since Zoë had left the afternoon before. Since his friend had been occupied with Sierra, he’d bided his time. But the sense that his time was running out had been growing more urgent since Zoë had left. And he knew from experience to trust his instincts. He handed Ryder one of the mugs of coffee he was holding.

“Thanks. You read my mind.” Ryder took a tentative sip, then a long swallow before he narrowed his eyes and studied his friend. “You’re up early.”

“Didn’t sleep much.”

Ryder made a grunt that Jed interpreted as sympathy, then took another long swallow of the coffee. “Give me a minute here. Need the caffeine.”

Jed could appreciate that. He was on his second cup. He didn’t suppose his old friend had gotten much sleep all weekend. Jed himself hadn’t slept much because his thoughts had been filled with Zoë.

It hadn’t been merely the lovemaking that had filled his mind whenever he’d closed his eyes and tried to drift off. Although he’d thought about that. A lot. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake loose the memory of what she’d tasted like, what she’d felt like—that silky, smooth skin, that slender, athletic body.

Also on his mind had been what had happened afterward when he’d held her…and hadn’t wanted to let her go. Even now his body was recalling the pleasure he’d felt simply lying there holding her close. He’d drifted off then, and he wasn’t sure how long he’d slept. But when Zoë had awakened him, she’d been all business, all tightly wound nerves.

He hadn’t been able to resist the urge to loosen her up again. He’d wanted to experience once more what it felt like to make her come. Unfortunately, his attempt had tumbled them both out of the hammock.

She’d laughed. They both had, like idiots. And strangely enough it had been the image of Zoë McNamara, sitting next to him on the ground and laughing that had most persistently haunted his thoughts during the night.

He’d never heard her laugh before and he wanted to hear that rich, delightful sound again almost as much as he wanted to make love to her again.

But he couldn’t follow up on either desire. Jed took a long swallow of coffee, and this time he tasted the bitterness. It suited his current mood. Pursuing any kind of further relationship with Zoë McNamara was impossible as long as he was a “dead” man.

If the gut feeling he’d been experiencing that Bailey Montgomery had spotted him at that big D.C. party hadn’t been enough to spur him to action, the time he’d spent with Zoë certainly had.

“Shit,” Ryder said. “This coffee sucks. It’s been—what?—ten years since we shared an apartment in college, and your coffee hasn’t improved?”

Turning, Jed raised an eyebrow as he studied his friend. “Well, your taste buds are functioning. Are the brain cells up and running yet?”

Ryder ran the fingers of one hand through his hair, glaring down at the mug in his hand. “Making a decent cup of coffee isn’t rocket science. I don’t know anyone who’s a better shot with a rifle than you are.” He waved his free hand. “Except for me, there’s no one who can match you at finessing the information highway to find out anything you want to know, whether it’s classified or not. You know Shakespeare’s plays like the back of your hand. My God, you’re even a brilliant tactical fisherman. If you ever want to give up government work, you can probably get your own show on the fishing channel. I can’t see how you can screw up fixing a simple cup of coffee day after day.”