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reast. His mouth captured the right breast while thumb and forefinger tweaked her left nipple. Goosebumps appeared down her left arm as he sucked and flicked his tongue. Her spine straightened, shoulders squared. Standing, she looked more like she was doing a crab crawl with each thrust against her hand. The first wave of orgasm was felt over his fingers, a sharp tightening around the ring of his middle finger. Skillfully he extracted his middle and forefinger, leaving his ring in and worked his magic on the pulsating nub controlling her orgasm. Her mouth opened, neck strained. Those long lashes of hers flew open and he watched with excitement as she came all over his hand.
Dante extracted his wet hand from inside her panties, his eyes focused on her luscious lips. He ran his tongue over his teeth at a loss for words. When did that ever happen to him? Maybe if he cleared his throat.
“You don’t have to say a word,” Harley pressed her hand against his chest and pulled herself up. On autopilot he moved out of her way so she could slide off the counter. “I am going to take yet another shower.” She tried to brush past him but Dante was a good foot taller than her and clearly had at least one hundred and fifty pounds on her.
With the island bar at her back, he blocked her in with both hands on either side of her and leaned close, his mouth close to hers. “Maybe I’ll join you.”
“I wasn’t inviting you,” Harley said with a raised brow.
“That’s not fair,” he tasted her sweet breath and grinned. “What about me?”
Harley brought her lips closer to his. The dewy moisture from her mouth moistened his bottom lip. He willed her to kiss him. When did he ever will that?
“How about,” she said, her drawl slow and southern with her hands sliding through the hairs down his chest. Besides the undershirt from possibly some other guys, he never hated material more. “You,” her right hand dove down between his legs, coming up with a hand full of swollen balls, “take care of yourself the same way you got in here. By your own damn self.”
With that, she dropped his erection and ducked under his arms back toward the hallway from which she exited.
****
Harley emerged from her shocking-cold shower expecting to see Dante’s naked ass preparing to come inside. She hated the little nag of disappointment when she opened the shower doors and found herself alone in the room.
How was Javier going to handle the death of Gaston? How deep in danger were the kids? And who in the hell did she marry? Dante said FBI but she’d met her share of G-men. They were boring and tried to make their lives sound more exciting than what they really were. A quiet day working with STB was more exciting than pencil pushers. What excited and angered her at the same time was the fact Dante lied to her from the moment they met and she fell for it—that did not happen to her. She hated a liar. She was a liar and in order for a relationship to work, they couldn’t both be liars. Snorting, she pushed the thought out of her mind. What relationship? The sooner she got dressed, the sooner she could get back out there to him, and the sooner they could talk about an annulment.
The towel she used earlier did not have a chance to dry. She hated using damp ones, and her basket of dry towels still sat on the edge of her bed. Drip drying from the bathroom to her bedroom, she shivered under the air-conditioning vent. The big figure standing next to her bed startled her. Men did not come to her bedroom—not to her sanctuary.
“What do you think you’re doing here?”
“I need a shower,” Dante shrugged out of his button down shirt.
“I believe Chet has a bathroom at his place.”
“But I’m here now with you.”
Harley inhaled deeply at the sight of his massive exposed chest. He bore the scars of a soldier - a bullet wound here, a knife scar there. She liked what she saw and as irritating as she found his cockiness, she admired it as well. Dante Rossi had everything of which to be proud. To further prove his perfection, Dante leaned over to push his slacks down to his ankles. A raging hard-on wagged in front of her.
“You’re incorrigible, you know that?”
A lazy smile spread across his tan face. Too good for his own good, she thought. “You’re welcome to use the shower, there’s not much hot water.”
“Unless you want to return the favor.”
Harley rolled her eyes.
He chuckled and walked toward her, “Well then it looks like I’ll be needin’ a cold shower.”
Harley didn’t feel herself exhale until the water turned back on in the bathroom. Her hands clasped around her throat and she realized she hadn’t made matters better, still standing in the room drip-drying naked. Who in the hell did she marry?
She didn’t have time to answer her own question. A thump came from outside in her side yard. Typically her neighbors weren’t even home this time of day. They were a quiet bunch anyways, so when she heard a thump followed by an oomph, Harley went to the window beside her bed and glanced to the street outside. She heard a car start. She wasn’t sure what made her pull back the heavy cream curtain but when she did, she caught a glimpse of the back of Hannah’s dark head sliding into the driver’s side of a long green Impala. Propped against the window—Javier’s half drowsy face.
“What the—” she started to curse, hearing the sounds of Dante’s horrible singing voice shouting out Warrant’s Cherry Pie song. “Seriously?” she rolled her eyes, noting no steam leaving the shower.
While Dante sang off tune, Harley slid into a pair of denim jeans and tugged a V-neck T-shirt with the police department’s logo over her head. She took off out her bedroom door through the kitchen. Hannah’s keys were missing off the counter. She tore out of her house almost without a second thought of Dante—a second and third thought came to mind. Dante’s black SUV blocked her car from backing out of the driveway. The last thing she wanted to do was go back in and ask him to move or even wait for him. The taillights of Javier’s car already made it to the red stop sign at the end of the street.
Harley dug into her purse for her silencer so she could screw it on to the end of her pistol. The other last thing she wanted was for Dante to follow her. The back tire went down after a high pitch pierce. For good measure she shot the front tire as well. Smiling to herself, she slid in behind the wheel of her mustang and made a sharp u-turn through her yard. The door to her house remained shut. Satisfied, Harley cheered to herself and clapped on the steering wheel. She was so busy celebrating, she almost didn’t see the muscular figure standing in a pair of boxer briefs, bare foot and bare-chested. Dante stood in the middle of the street, sweat or shower water dripping down his skin, glistening in the sunlight.
He cocked an eyebrow along with his black 49 Glock.
Harley raised her brow and revved the engine, trying to make a decision.
