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“Tomorrow.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “We both need sleep. Get yourself sorted and get into bed.”
The color drained from her face. “I thought there would be more kissing and stuff first.”
An alarm sounded in his mind. He was missing something here and needed to backtrack fast to find out what it was. “First, before what? Before sleep?”
She blinked up at him. “Before sex. Isn’t that why you want me to get ready?”
“Bébé.” He let out a sigh. “I already told you. Sex isn’t part of our deal. You don’t need to worry about it. Right now, we’re exhausted and need to catch some sleep.”
About a million different emotions seemed to race across her face—relief, confusion, disappointment, acceptance. And with that last disheartened look, he knew she’d come to the wrong conclusion.
Wide blue eyes looked up at him. “Don’t you want to have sex with me?” Her words were like a punch to his gut. If the woman knew the effect she had with her vulnerably honest questions, she’d be dangerous.
“Chère, if you believe anything, believe this: I definitely want you.”
She didn’t look convinced, making him close the distance between them to crouch in front of her. “You’ve turned me into
a desperate man, Friday Jones. It’s been a long time since I wanted a woman as much as I want you. I want to strip you naked and lay you down on cool cotton sheets, then take my time exploring every inch of that smooth, creamy skin of yours.” Her full pink lips parted with a little hiss of air that made him want to taste, and touch, and indulge. When they had time. “I want to tease you with my lips and teeth and listen to those little gasps and groans you’ll make when I drive you crazy with need. And then, when you’re begging me to take you, because you can’t stand the pleasure no more, I’m gonna cover you with my body and slide into your warm, wet heat. Then, mon amour, I’m gonna take us both to paradise. Over. And. Over. Again. Until you can’t think from wanting me. Because I can’t think from wanting you.” He stroked his thumb over her bottom lip. “Does that sound like a man who doesn’t want you?”
She leaned into his touch, her eyes dark, her cheeks flushed. A perfect picture of pure temptation. “It can really be like that?”
“Yeah, it can really be like that. But, with you, I think it’s gonna be something more. I’m not sure we’re gonna survive that much passion.” He gave her a slow, promising smile. “But I sure am willing to try.”
She let out a shaky little breath. “I didn’t know…”
No, from her reaction, he didn’t think any man had taken proper care of her in bed. He’d change that. When they had time.
With deep regret, he forced himself to stand and move away from her. “Trust me, there’s gonna be way more kissing in your future, but not right now. We’re exhausted, and we need to get in some sleep before we head out again.”
“Okay,” she whispered, but she didn’t sound convinced. “Maybe we could have sex then sleep?”
She was too damn tempting. And he couldn’t resist. He leaned over, clasped her face, and kissed those soft lips of hers. He took his time, making it last, letting her feel the need he wanted to unleash, but couldn’t. When he pulled away from her, she was dazed and swaying, her cheeks pink, her lips red. Beautiful.
“When we make love, I’m not going to rush to fit it in before something else. I want to take my time. I want to have hours, days, to spend making you desperate for more. Tonight, we sleep.”
He forced himself to turn away from her and head out of the room. It was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. But he had to talk to his team and make sure they were ready for the rest of this mission.
They had three days to get to La Paz. More than enough time if they didn’t have the entire Northern Territory Enforcement agency on their ass. They had to be prepared for anything if they were going to make it to the antidote in time.
And they would make it on time.
Or die trying.
Chapter Seventeen
The penthouse, CommTECH building, New York
Miriam Shepherd opened her eyes and read the personal message that flashed across her comlens. A message from the Broker. A message that had woken her up. And she didn’t like what she read one little bit. For a moment, she stared up into the star-filled sky through the glass ceiling above her bed and wondered what her next move should be. Should she tell her fellow leaders that Friday Jones was still a threat? Or should she deal with the problem and inform them after the fact?
She pressed her fingertips to her temple and rubbed circles. Enforcement had let her down again. How Ms. Jones had evaded them in Galveston, she didn’t know. But she was going to get to the bottom of the incompetency as soon as she’d dealt with her latest problem—whether to tell the other leaders or not. It was tiresome to have to consult others in such matters. Not that they would be of any use. Ju-Long would offer up outdated ideas for Friday’s capture. Serge would most likely be drunk and fucking his way through one of the downtown clubs by now. And Sandrine would find a way to use the information to further her own agenda. Because Sandrine was power-hungry. Miriam saw the look every time she met the other woman’s eyes. She recognized it because it was the same visceral need that drove each of her own decisions. No, she wouldn’t inform the others. Not yet.
With a sigh, she rolled to the edge of her bed and reached for the silky robe draped over the arm of the antique chair. The white fabric was smooth and cool against her skin. Another reminder of the power and money at her disposal. A moan brought her attention back to the young man currently tied on his back to her bed. She’d been very careful to ensure that the wrist and ankle cuffs didn’t break his skin. Not because she cared about damage, but because she couldn’t tolerate the thought of her pristine white room becoming contaminated with his blood.
Her eyes slid down his muscular body, to the painfully stiff erection straining up from his groin. She had planned to use him again before morning. Now, with yet another mess to clean up, she found her mood had changed. With the slightest thought, she sent a command for her head of security. A moment later the door opened, and Kane strode through. The man was an uncanny combination of brains, brawn, and ruthless obedience. For years, he’d functioned as her personal bodyguard and head of her security. And he had never failed to please her.
He inclined his head in acknowledgment before eyeing the man on the bed. The muscle in his jaw ticked at the sight of the brutal erection.
“Please get rid of that for me.”
