Page 84 of Lethal Obsession

I draw her face upward, intending to touch her lips with my own, just a taste to seal the promise I’ve made.

Except that when her eyes flutter closed, her lips part beneath mine, and she melts against me in heat and scented silk, my brain leaves the fucking building completely.

The kiss deepens, her ass a lush, ripe curve under my hand, her breasts crushed against me, her mouth so sweet and full I dip into it over and over, until Ofelia is moaning, the blood is roaring in my ears, and my cock is straining painfully hard against my leathers.

“Come upstairs,” she whispers against my mouth.

I tear my mouth from hers with a monumental effort. Staring down at her swollen lips, holding her hard against my throbbing length, I give a hoarse laugh.

“Soon,” I say roughly. Taking a deep breath, I release her and reluctantly step away to a safe distance.

“You,” I say, giving her a stern look. “Phone. Now. Go.”

Biting her lip in a way that makes me want to bite every fucking part of her, Ofelia turns and bolts upstairs, giving me a sideways look from the stairs that nearly shatters the last of my resolve.

I take advantage of her absence to call the Quantum Drift.

“I need Lola to hire a car,” I say abruptly when Andrew answers. “And not a town car. Something inconspicuous. Tell her to drive it to Granada. Yes, today. Immediately.” Now that I’ve made my mind up, I can’t make this happen fast enough. I give my instructions, then hang up, just as Ofelia comes running back down the stairs, waving her phone at me.

“Stop,” I say warningly, before she gets too close. “Hand me the phone.”

She giggles. It’s the sweetest fucking sound I’ve ever heard.

I enter Lola’s number, then Andrew’s, but not my own. I don’t want to chance any kind of connection between us. Nothing that could possibly place her in danger.

“Lola will be here as soon as she can. She’ll liaise with the dragons regarding security, so you’d better send her their numbers.”

Ofelia giggles again. “You can’t keep calling them that. Their names are Teresa and Julia, and they’re both really nice.”

“Uh-huh,” I say dryly. Given that I nearly knocked one of them out when I arrived earlier, I doubt we’re likely to be on close terms anytime soon, but so long as they stay out of my way, we should be good.

And once we’re safely aboard, they won’t have a whole lot of choice in the matter.

“Right.” I try not to stare at the long length of tanned thigh extending from beneath the cami shorts, at the nipples clearly outlined under the silk, or at Ofelia’s swollen lips, her taste still lingering on my own.

Fuck. I need to get out of here.

“I’m going next door to talk to the dragons.” I back away from her before I can’t. “Lola will call you when she’s on her way.”

“And I will see you,” Ofelia breathes, her eyes shining. “Soon.”

“Yes.” I open the door and step out into the blazing sunshine, feeling something dangerously like happiness spread through me. “Yes, you will.”

I ride toward the coast at breakneck speed, my body raging.

Despite whoever is currently determined to kill me, the fact that I’m in the country illegally, and the very real risk I’m about to incur the wrath of Roman Borovsky, it’s hard not to feel almost deliriously happy.

There is no world in which Ofelia joining me on the Quantum Drift is a good idea.

And there’s no world in which it isn’t going to happen.

Maybe it’s the isolation of the last few days sailing south, without the normal distractions of work, the swamp, and life in general. Maybe Mak’s request has given me a legitimate reason to delegate the hunting of Miami’s vermin to someone else, for the first time in many years.

And maybe it’s because the memory of Ofelia’s body under your hands and mouth has become an obsession.

One that haunts every moment of every day, either waking or sleeping.

I considered turning back to Ibiza a hundred times on the way south. Imagined heading into one of the island’s famous nightclub districts and losing myself in any number of the beautiful women to be found there. I know there’d be no shortage of aspiring actress-slash-models who’d be more than happy to indulge my every sexual fantasy in exchange for a sybaritic cruise down the Spanish coast on a luxury yacht.