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He cupped the back of her head in his palm a
nd drew her up to meet his mouth.
Chapter 11
8:44 a.m.
The instant Rye slid his tongue between her lips, he acknowledged that he’d been waiting for any excuse to kiss her.
He heard a little catch in her breath, felt a small puff of it against his lips. Both were sexy as hell and encouraging. He angled his head. The deeper he explored, the better she tasted, the more carnally his intent was channeled. Somehow he’d known her mouth was made for this.
Reaching inside her coat, he curved his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. He felt the giving fullness of her breasts when matched to his chest. A slight shift of his left thigh, and the alignment of their bodies below their waists improved. God, did it ever.
Every sexual impulse he had kicked into overdrive, making him so damn hard, and, for a few mind-blowing seconds, he felt a corresponding softening, an invitational tilt, a momentary fitting of hardness into hollow.
Then she tensed up and broke the kiss, lowering her head, catching a few strands of her hair in his scruff.
He released her gradually. When his arms fell away, she stepped around him, careful not to touch him, careful not even to brush against his clothing. As she moved past, he pivoted in order to keep his eyes on her.
She stopped a short distance away and raised her hand to her mouth. Her back was to him, so he had no way of knowing if she was covering her mouth in mortification, testing her lips for moisture, dabbing at a whisker burn, or wiping away the taste of him.
“You can’t seduce the combination out of me.”
That remark pissed him off. But when she turned around to face him, he had a smirk already in place. “Wasn’t trying to. It’s just that you know me now. Better, at least. Pretty damn good, in fact.”
She gave him a murderous look, which only caused him to grin.
“Surely you can trust me enough to tell me about the two guys trailing you.”
“I don’t know anything about them.” She began to roam the room, seemingly without any purpose except to evade his questions.
“No idea who sent them?”
“You’re assuming they were sent, that they weren’t just two men having breakfast.”
“I would guess that they’re undercover FBI.”
She stopped her aimless roaming and looked at him.
“Narcs maybe?”
She turned away and resumed the agitated prowling.
“The big guy might pass for an agent, except that feds don’t drive Mercedes. The little guy, no way. He’s a punk.”
She was fiddling with the card on the nightstand that listed TV channels. “How do you know what he is?”
“I recognize the type. They’re all over the world. Different languages, different colors, religions, causes. But they’re always looking for a fight, and they thrive on bloodshed.” He gave her a meaningful look. “Which is why I think you’re in over your head, Brynn, and you don’t even realize it.”
She laid the card back on the nightstand. “Why do you care?”
He placed his hand over his heart. “Because I’m such a nice guy.”
For that he got another dirty look. “Why are you sticking around?” she asked. “Why aren’t you long gone?”
“I wish I was.”
“So?”
