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If my pussy is what finally snares this man, so be it.
“Don’t, then,” I gasp up at the stars. The tension twists tighter in my belly with each lick, with each of his hot, shuddering breaths, and I’m trying to hold off, trying to drag this out for another minute, but it’s no use. He’s mastered me, and River wants me to come. “Don’t keep away.”
A low grunt. A bruising squeeze of my ass. My eyes slam shut, blocking out the waxy glow of the moon, and then there’s nothing but the soft sigh of the ocean and the warm kiss of the island breeze, and River’s greedy mouth between my thighs. The pleasure rises up like a wave, up and up and up—then crashes over me, hot and tingly, flooding me from my toes to the tips of my hair.
I shake like a rag doll on the uneven sand. It goes on and on and on, tossing me around in my own private maelstrom until I collapse, completely spent. When I finally blink my eyes open in a daze, River has a hand clapped over my mouth. I think it’s been there a while.
“You were loud,” he says, thick eyebrows lowered in mock disapproval.
I lick the palm of his hand.
He grins.
* * *
Ten minutes later, fully dressed in clothes that are stiff and discolored with sand, salt and sweat, we sit together on a rock by the ocean’s edge.
The red tracker light winks at me from my boot. I rest my chin on my knees, rolling my stiff shoulders. Should I have left the boots behind? Maybe. I don’t know. Surely if they found me missing, I’d be screwed either way—and at least this way, I’m a tiny bit less vulnerable.
“Tell me you have a plan, River.”
His legs are drawn up too, his elbows resting on his knees. The rogue agent stares out to sea, contemplative and silent, but I know by now that his excellent hearing is trained behind us on the footpath from base camp.
“I have a plan,” he says slowly, “but you won’t like it.”
Awesome.
“Does it get us both out of here alive?” I wrinkle my sunburned nose. “Because if so, I don’t care about the details. I love it. Whatever you’ve got in mind, lay it on me. I’m in.”
His mouth twists. He frowns at the glassy waves, barely bigger than ripples as they lap at the shore. The water’s so crystal clear that even at night, I can see the pale outline of a starfish clinging to a rock down there.
“They brought you here on a boat,” he says at last.
Yup. That’s no big secret—it’s anchored beyond the reef, where it’s been rising and falling with the tide for days. I’ve thought about sneaking back to that boat and jetting off into the sunset about, oh, a million times.
“I can’t drive it.” Do you even drive a boat? Gah. This is the problem. “Or navigate or whatever. Can you?”
“Yes. But we need to get onboard first. And we need the agency to leave us alone.”
There’s a long, heavy pause. I wait, stomach tensing.
“And?” I say at last. “And?How do we do that, River? This isn’t theater! We don’t need a dramatic pause!”
The agent fixes me with alook.My tummy flips in response, and my insides go all quivery. It’s like a switch flips, and then he’s just so bossy, so commanding, so stern. I wriggle against the rock.
Down, girl.Plucking at my tank top, I blow out a long breath. Escape first, then sexcapades later.
“You won’t like this,” he warns me again. Oh, dear god.
“River,” I say sweetly. “I don’t care if you could kill me with your pinkie finger. If you don’t tell me the damn plan, I will push you into the sea.”
He huffs out a laugh. Shakes his head and squints at the moonlit horizon.
“Alright, Betty.” A calloused hand finds mine, tangling our fingers together, and I cling on tight, like he’s my personal life buoy. “Here it is: we’re going to let them catch us.”
He’s right. That plan sucks.
Six
