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“Well, Mr. Carter, I have to give it to you,” she managed to croak as she struggled to bring her breathing under control. “You have golden hands, so seductively evil and wonderful all at once. I could easily become addicted to your touch.”
“It seems I achieved what I set out to do then,” he said with an amused grin.
“Meaning?”
“You’ll find out in due course, little one. For now, let this be the start of a mutually satisfying union that will only become more intense as we move forward together.”
“And I will hold you to make that prediction a promise.” Jordan eased herself off his lap and quickly fixed her clothes. She cast a heated gaze at him as she picked up the torn panties. “What’s next?”
“Pushy, aren’t you?”
“I’m the kind of woman who needs to know where I stand. I’m too old for a cat and mouse game, Brock. You made it clear I needed to start thinking in terms of us… that’s what I’m doing. I have no intention of sitting idly by, twiddling my thumbs, and waiting for you to make the next move. Either we’re in a relationship or not. There’s no in between or leading up to it.”
“We are in a relationship, Jordan. I believe I already said as much in Turkey.”
“You never actually said…” She heaved in a calming breath as she pointed between them. “I think we need to work on your communication skills, Carter,” she grumbled as pleasure washed over her at the confirmation. She glanced around the large room, empty apart from the two of them. “Where are those two knuckleheads? We’ve got work to do.”
Still smoldering in the afterglow, Brock reflected upon the intense immediacy of their collaboration. A smile secured the glazed look that occupied his face. His heart drummed a syncopated beat against his chest, all the more to provoke the mutiny that besieged his throbbing loins begging for relief. He ignored it as he dialed Cruz’s number. When he fucked Jordan, it wouldn’t be a stolen one for quick satisfaction. He intended to savor every moment of the experience.
“Cruz, get your ass back here. The little red kitty needs you.” He ducked quickly to avoid a paperweight that was hurled with great accuracy towards his head.
“Red kitty me again, mister and you can forget tasting my pussy for at least a week.”
“Ah, fiery Jordan is back.” The grin was immediate. “If that’s a challenge, I accept.”
“It wasn’t. It’s a fact.”
“Hmm. I wonder who will give in first, littlered kitty. Me… or you?”
Jordan cursed under her breath. She would probably be the one ending up begging for it again since Brock had proven to have stellar control over his body and his needs. He might have given her a climax but she yearned for the full monty! Him, driving his hard length to the hilt inside her.
Great going, Jordan. Talk about cutting off your nose to spite your face!
Chapter Seven
Three days later... Luca Boneiro’s luxurious home on Broadway Street, Pacific Heights in San Francisco…
“So, you’re back.”
Luca froze at the quiet anger resonating in the voice behind him. He didn’t move or respond. It stood to reason that Angelo, or Jared Bates, as he was now known, would have eyes out for actionable intel the moment he set foot back on U.S. soil. Luca had scoured every scrap of information he could find about the man. It still astounded him that his brother had managed to survive the odds on that fateful day. The sight of hammerheads circling his thirteen-year-old brother had so traumatized him to wake him in the middle of the night, screaming in terror. To know he’d survived had been the greatest gift fate would have given except for the fact that they were now on opposite sides of the law.
“Was there ever doubt that I would become who I am?” He walked towards the bar. His sharp gaze caught the movement to his right in the reflection on the glass doors of the bar cabinets. “You brought your muscle along?”
“Brock is hardly that,” Jared answered dispassionately.
“You should be grateful, Boneiro,” Brock said. “I’m here to make sure he doesn’t kill you.”
“Ah, of course,” Luca laughed as he tossed each of them a beer. He twisted the cap and took a deep swig as he regarded the two men. “Try another one, Carter. If there’s one thing I know from digging into my supposed dead brother’s life, it’s that he has integrity. He killed many in the line of duty but only those who deserved it.” He saluted Jared with the bottle. “That’s why the four of you left the CIA to start your own covert Black Ops team… because you refused to cross the line.” His lips flattened. “No, Carter, one thing I know for a fact, Jared Bates isn’t gonna kill me.”
“Maybe not but beating you to a pulp for what you did to his little sister… well, that’s a different story.” Brock closed the distance just shy of Luca’s personal space and stood at parade rest with his hands clasped behind his back.
“Which you both know I was unaware of.” Luca’s lips curled into a derisive smirk. “Not that I suppose it matters.” He spread his hands wide. “Well, big brother, here I am. Take your best shot.”
“You think that’s why we’re here? To beat you to within an inch of your life?” Jared sat the beer down on a side table. He didn’t come here to socialize and he sure as hell didn’t intend to become his younger brother’s drinking buddy. He studied Luca for a moment, surprised by the silent plea flashing in his eyes. It was the last thing he expected from a hardened Mafia underboss. “You know that’s never happening,” he said, shunning Luca’s challenge.
Luca finished his beer before retorting in a dry voice, “It was worth a try but, yeah, somehow I knew that would be your response.”
“Yet, you still returned, knowing that I’d throw your ass in jail.”
