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She was lying on her side, one breast plumped by her arm. Gently, Marc rubbed a knuckle over the velvety, slightly swollen texture of her nipple and watched, fascinated, as it immediately tightened and elongated, the pinkish beige color darkening almost to red.
Her heavy eyelids fluttered open, and a sleepy smile curved her lips. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I didn't mean to wake you."
She reached out and wrapped her fingers around his swollen penis. "Oh, I think you did." Her voice was drowsy, sensual. Lazily, she stroked him up and down, bringing him to full erection.
He laughed and moved her hand away from him before she aroused him to the point where all he cared about was orgasm. She shifted closer until they were lying pressed together and lifted her mouth to his. "How long before you expect to hear from that McPherson man?"
"I'll give him until tomorrow afternoon."
She looked wide-eyed and solemn. "Are we going to spend the entire time in bed?"
"Probably."
"Don't you have to work?" She traced his lips with one fingertip, then trailed it down his chest to circle his flat nipples.
"I took some personal time off. A case I was working cleared yesterday, and I didn't have anything else urgent." He didn't let himself think about how the case had cleared.
"So we can stay right here?" She hadn't lost the solemn look. Marc inhaled deeply as that slender finger worked its way down his torso, bypassing his erection to reach beyond and stroke his testicles.
"Right here." He did a little of his own stroking, down her spine to the crease of her buttocks, back up, down again. Each time his fingers stroked farther down. She gasped and arched against him, her buttocks tightening. Her nipples were pebble hard.
"What do we do if he doesn't call?"
"Proceed on our own." He squeezed her bottom, then eased one finger into her. She felt like warm, wet satin inside, tight on his finger, shivering delicately with arousal. He thought it was Henry Miller who had said entering life by way of the vagina was as good a way as any, and he heartily agreed. He could happily spend the rest of his life with some part of his body inserted into Karen, feeling her excitement, watching her little squirms.
She didn't have much patience. Her brown eyes were almost black as she suddenly put both hands on his chest and shoved him onto his back. He laughed as she straddled him, using both hands to position his penis and sliding down onto him so completely that his laugh changed to a groan. Oh, yes, he was definitely'going to marry this woman.
His beeper sounded.
"You said you're off duty," she accused, frowning.
"I am. That would be Antonio." He stretched to reach his beeper and checked the number. "Bingo."
"He can wait five minutes," Karen said firmly.
"And you can't?" He was teasing. He didn't think he could, either.
"No," she said, and proved it.
"You sound as if you've been running," Shannon observed when Marc called him, ten minutes later.
"I was downstairs," Marc replied. It wasn't a lie. He had been downstairs—about two hours ago.
"McPherson just called back. They're looking into any acquaintances Whitlaw and Medina had in common, but right now they don't have anything. Ah, he did say they were going to put a tail on Karen, to see if they can spot anyone else following her and also to step in if she's in danger. I didn't tell him she's here."
"Good. Hold off on telling him for a while. I might change my mind later, but for now I don't want anyone but the two of us to know."
Marc wanted to think more about the situation before he gave away Karen's location. Involvement by the CIA, even peripherally, made him uneasy. He didn't assume, as a lot of people did, that they were either bad guys or assholes, but by natu
re of the Agency they dealt with a lot of bad guys.
On the other hand, it could be handy to have McPherson's shadow following them when he and Karen went to Columbus, to that storage unit. Tomorrow should be interesting.
* * *
Chapter 18
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